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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

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Title: wine nights [coward series au] Pairing: F!Reader x Miya Atsumu Genre: fluff, parents au, slice of life au Synopsis: in which the older Miya twins and you have a heart to heart talk over wine.

Warnings: brief mentions of trauma

notes;

highly suggest to read the series for more understanding but either ways be my guest and just read it as a standalone if ya want to. also um the taglist has been closed ever since chap 7 was out so im really sorry :(

happy 415 followers btw uwu. will be releasing my kita angst fic next week to celebrate a new milestone.

read the series here! [ ss;; one, two, three, four ]

Osamu admits that you and him never saw eye to eye back in college (actually it was mostly him), it only took a worse turn when you left his twin. Now that he knows that the person you loved was actually his twin and that the father was the said person, he takes it back.

Yep, he takes it all back.

After profuse apologies and numerous deadpan responses from you saying that it was alright. You sort-of developed a weird friendship? He’d tell jokes and you’d just give him a blank expression and shake your head as if you were disappointed to be in the same room as him.

You always invited him and Daiki to your home every week on Sunday dinners though, he’s glad to be a part of it. He’s getting to know you a bit more and he’s slowly starting to understand why his brother loves you a lot.

The night is young and Atsumu is in the kids room, putting them to bed while you get ready for wine night. The younger Miya twin sits at the counter and nibbles on the cheese crackers as he watches you dry the dishes, “Has ‘tsumu ever told you how he first met you?” he suddenly asks out loud, curious if you knew how whipped his twin was for you and how much power you held over him.

You turn to the grey-haired twin with a plate on one hand and a dish towel on the other, “I don’t believe he or Shion-san has ever mentioned it.”

He chuckles, of course they wouldn’t. It was usually kept in the dark then and because of your strained relationships towards them when you were in college, they never actually got to tell you the story.

“He saw you one day, earlier in the school year…”

“He did mention that one time.” your forehead creases as you remember a fleeting conversation you had back then.

“Yeah, he kind of fell in love with you at first sight, Y/N.” his twin chuckled, “Sounds crazy right?”

Growing up, Osamu knows that his brother had attitude problems so imagine his shock and surprise when his twin called him up on a random night and started talking about this girl. This girl who barely paid him any attention at all.

Osamu recounts his thoughts then, how cruel fate would be for his twin to fall in love with a girl who paid him no mind when he had many others on his beck and call. He recalls how he’d call his brother a masochist, telling him to stop the fruitless chase towards you because you barely gave a time of day to Atsumu even if it was clear that he was completely and utterly enamored by you.

Well, it ended happily for the both of you. Stable careers, dreams reached, happy family, and adorable kids.

Son of a bitch, the old Osamu would be given a run for his money if he saw what had happened to you two now.

“That must’ve been a long time, then.”

“Oh, trust me.” Osamu breathed out, taking a sip of his wine, “It was only the first few months of the school year that time, Y/N. He says he saw you all the time but he could never pluck out the courage to actually go and talk to you.”

“Hm.” You mused, “I always thought that Atsumu had women hanging by his shoulder.”

Osamu chokes at the idea of Atsumu being a player, “Before he met you, it’s always been about volleyball. The idiot would go so far as insult the girls when they’d disrupt practice.”

“Huh,” you blink, “Was I his first girlfriend then?”

“Not exactly.” Osamu drawls, tapping his chin, “‘tsumu would say yes to girls but he never really knew what being a boyfriend was, he never hung out with the girls he said yes so it never really was a relationship. Hence why he’s got a reputation as a player.”

Osamu recounts even one time how annoyed his brother was when one of his ‘girlfriends’ came to their matches and screamed out his name when he did serves.

“She was fucking annoying,” Atsumu grumbles, walking in the middle of his brother’s tale and casting his twin a look, “Although I do wish that Y/N would come to my games. You never did come to any of them back when I was in college.”

“I was trying to graduate early.” you deadpan, placing the last dish on the dish rack to join them on the table.

“You’re forgiven, sweetheart.” He fakes a coo, making you roll your eyes as you pour yourself a glass.

“Atsumu tells me that he’s never smooth around you.”

“He isn’t.” you glazed, “Back in college when I gave him a tuna flavored onigiri as thanks after our meeting at the frat party, he had a nosebleed.”

Osamu chokes on his drink, “What the hell, ‘tsumu?” he barked, howling in laughter at his twin.

Atsumu would never deny the fact that what we had towards you was a school boy crush at first, he’d always be a nervous mess or his brain would cease to function whenever you came by then in college. He couldn’t put two and two together too, when you simply gave him one word replies, he’d be lost immediately. Not knowing what to say, all the charisma and overconfidence he had went down the drain by your curt replies.

What would anyone expect, really?

He’s never had crushes on anyone growing up.

The idea of putting time and effort towards something that wasn’t volleyball disgusted him yet here he was now, completely whipped for you and the brats while putting volleyball on second.

My, my how the tables have turned.

“You were really hard to talk to then, sweetheart.” He murmurs, “For the record, Y/N was the very first girl I asked out and you didn’t exactly make it easy after. I was thinking I was going to fail after those countless rejections.”

“You’re more pushy than Daiki, I’d have to admit. The guy stopped after his third rejection.”

Osamu raises a brow, he knows of your situation, Atsumu has mentioned it in passing but hasn’t gone into full detail about it but he’s curious, Daiki’s been around longer after all, “He’s known you longer than, ‘tsumu. Probably even deeper back then, how come you never ended up with him?”

Atsumu blinks and turns toward you, he’s curious too, Daiki has even openly admitted that he proposed to you seven years ago after knowing about the kids but you rejected him yet again (that was the last and final attempt)

You swirl the wine around, thinking of a proper response, “To be honest, I don’t know.” you answered, pondering as you turn towards Atsumu, “I just- it never felt right.”

Osamu whistles, “Dang, you just love my twin too much too. I take it back, yer both simps for each other, it's sickening.”

Atsumu lets out a childish tongue out in which he is replied by a middle finger from his other half.

You three continue to talk about random things and after deeming himself too sleepy and needing to open shop early tomorrow, Osamu says his goodbyes.

You sat in front of your vanity as you did your nightly routine, brushing and untangling the tangles of your hair after you showered and changed to a comfortable bedroom attire.

Atsumu exits the shower half naked as usual, his hair damp as he ruffles the towel on it, he slowly approaches your side and dips down to kiss your naked shoulder, “Hey Y/N.” his voice is muffled and vibrating through your skin.

You hummed a reply, still brushing your hair.

“Why didn’t you marry Daiki?”

You paused mid-action and raised a brow at his sudden question, turning to him as he suddenly stood up straighter with his hand now replacing his lips, “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not,” he grumbles, he’s been married to you for two years already and everyday’s like a honeymoon phase that doesn’t end, why would he be jealous of that scrub? as if, “I’m just curious. The idiot’s good looking, rich, good with kids, and a full package. A blind man could admit that.”

“You're a full package too.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment, as if he was saying, really?

You chuckle in a low voice, “Because he’s like my psychiatrist, Atsumu.” You simply said, shaking your head as you turn back to the mirror, “Unlike you, Daiki found out about it accidentally and we weren’t on good terms before that when we were kids. He became nicer so you could say that we became friends because he pitied me.”

Atsumu blinks for a moment, taken aback by your explanation.

“Growing up, the anxiety would eat me up that Daiki’s friendship and feelings all stemmed because he pitied me. You could never build a decent relationship with that, it wouldn’t be healthy.” you continued then you turned to him, “Remember what I said to you then? How I felt when I was with you?”

Atsumu slowly nods.

“You didn’t pry and that was probably the best and worst thing you ever did throughout our relationship in college.” You smiled softly, “I was never ready to tell you then and you didn’t force me at all. You just kept staying and loving me without knowing anything to the point where I took advantage of it.”

“Y/N-” He dryly starts, knowing where this is going.

“I know I shouldn’t apologize but it was toxic, atsumu.” You softly said, laughing, “I’m really sorry.”

“Well you gave your forgiveness in the form of kids and being my wife until I die, I think it turned out pretty well in the end.”

You cast him a glare in which he immediately raises his two hands, “Hey, we both had our downplays in the relationship. We’re not perfect, sweetheart.” he reassures you as he walks up to you and grabs a hold of your hand with a wedding ring on it, “But we try to improve, learn,and be the best for each other and for those two brat- i mean kids. ”

He proceeds to entangle your fingers with his, “I don’t regret it, ya know.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I don’t regret hanging onto that girl who barely gave me the time of her day then. I don’t regret seeing ya on that random spring day where you give yourself heart palpitations or better yet, I don’t regret everything. I don’t regret any of that. I’d do that shit again if I get to be here now.” He reassures you, he never gets tired to remind you of that as he squeezes your hands.

You cut the serious moment with a laugh, Atsumu is happy these days because of how easy it is for you to be like this around him, “You’re batshit crazy.”

“I was expecting a confession too.” He feigned hurt, “You wound me, sweetheart.”

“You kind of are though.” You stop laughing,wiping the little tears on the side of your eyes, “You’re probably the only person who’d come back after that wretched heartbreak.”

“And you’re the only person who I’d do that to.” Atsumu sticks his tongue out as he tugs you to your shared bed, “Jus’ so ya know, Y/N. You’re impossibly hard to forget. If we never did end up together or if you ended up with Daiki, I think I’d focus on volleyball for the rest of my life.”

“I doubt it.”

Yet Atsumu doesn’t reply and just kisses your lips goodnight as he drags you back to bed, what you didn’t know was that he was telling the truth.

It was just you, the kids, and volleyball (and his brother).

taglist [officially closed, if you guys want to be removed for the side stories, feel free to tell me hehe ilyasm and thank you once again, coward wouldn’t be possible without all you people + other readers]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ; @svtbitch ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi ; @yams046 ; @dope-squish ; @chrisrue15 ; @vermillionwaves ; @demursv1ogs ; @just-snog-already ; @angmarwitch ; @simpingonothers ; @woo-youngs ; @cowward ; @chaelysian ; @sempiternal-amour ; @jungshookmeup ; @jovialnoise ; @karlitabi-rrito ; @iwaizluv ; @sugarandsoft ; @tspice283 ; @ohshirabu ; @syzygymai ; @volleybloop ; @oikaw-ugh ; @pockytokyo ; @differentballooncollection ; @keniloveshaikyuu ; @turquoiselace ; @playboygeniusphilanthropist ; @keijislut ; @notyourbitchboy

@misosamu @Etherynaw @ryaaaax @allysasteaparty @mikaashi @brownie0food @ph10xy @Chocolaterumble [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

#haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu fanfiction #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x y/n #atsumu imagines

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chalkrevelations · 4 years ago

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SO, Episode 28 of Word of Honor was a roller-coaster ride.

(Spoilers, as ever, so scroll away and come back later if you want to see it unspoiled.)

They managed two entirely separate scenes in this one that had me going “Did … did that just happen? Is this really happening?” Let’s get this one out of the way first: The scene of Zhao Jing in his serial killer lair with the altar and memorial tablets and his serial killer trophies. Y’all. I swear, scene opens with a shot from behind of drunk Awful Yifu in his Fantasy Ancient China underwear staggering through a set of doors into a room with candles and draperies, and before I was able to register the rest of the set design, my brain gave a terrified squeak and started rabbiting around like, “Oh my god, please do not let this be Xie’er’s bedroom. Oh my god, they wouldn’t actually go there, not even hinted, surely that would be too far!” Then my eyeballs caught up and registered the set, so I thought I was safe, but that didn’t even turn out to be the moment in the scene that had me going “Is this really happening?” (Although I do think the fact my brain immediately jumped to that scenario speaks to the creepy vibe the show has managed to build between Awful Yifu and Xie Wang). So, Zhao Jing is a sloppy drunk and absolutely shitfaced, stumbling around and yelling at his dead brothers, and I’m sitting here watching him, feeling like I need a shower, with my skin a little bit trying to crawl off my body, and then he picks up Rong Xuan’s memorial tablet and pours an entire stream of alcohol out of the pitcher all over it, and I say, out loud, to the screen, “Oh my god, they just had him figuratively piss on that tablet.” Only, no, they didn’t, because there was no need to have him do it figuratively because then, he literally whips it out of his pants and takes a piss on the tablet, complete with sound effects, and I’m open-mouthed, thinking “Is this really happening?” As some background, I grew up in mainstream U.S. culture where ancestor veneration isn’t formally practiced - although it isn’t an entirely absent part of our cultural mythos, it’s just that now when I when I offer cultus to the Patres Patriae, it’s deliberate and intentional – but I’ve been doing ancestor work in my particular flavor of polytheism for long enough, and intensely enough, that I had a visceral reaction of disgust and horror to this. Hand literally clapped over my mouth in shock, even after watching all of his ranting at his dead brothers and spitting at his dead shifu and just generally being a disrespectful asshole with delusions of grandeur building up to it. So, yes, show, you have indeed convinced me that Awful Yifu is the worst, even in an episode that also devoted that much screentime to Prince Jin.

Fortunately, the other “Is this really happening?” moment was at the other end of the spectrum, somewhere in the face of how married Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing are, which I cannot believe passed censorship. I know I keep saying that, but every time I think I’ve adjusted to how far they’re going to go, the show laughs gay-ly as it pushes the envelope another mile down the road. Truly, this show is the gift that keeps on giving where these two are concerned, and not just because of Zhang Zhehan’s face. I realize I had to spend 50 episodes deciphering Lan Wangji’s smallest microexpression (not that I’m complaining), but I can’t believe how expressive both Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun are in these roles, with Gong Jun’s little sadness eyebrows when WKX wants ZZS to humor him, and how soft Zhang Zhehan’s face gets when ZZS looks at WKX, and how great they both are at making all this look like a pair of adults who are in an established relationship and confident of each other. I’d be as weak as Wen Kexing if Zhou Zishu pouted at me the way he does when he tells Chengling that he can’t do anything to help decorate the Manor except observe and direct because he’s oh, so injured and frail, poor him. Wen Kexing can laugh at Zhou Zishu when ZZS pokes at him by saying the papercrafter was such a beauty! (Compare this to his reaction back in the day, when ZZS deftly manipulated him out of bringing A-Xiang along on their honeymoon adventures by calling her a beauty and implying she might draw attention away from WKX!) Wen Kexing waves kitchen knives at Zhou Zishu in (somewhat fond) exasperation! Zhou Zishu now accepts Wen Kexing piling his plate with food at the table as perfectly normal! There’s no crying in Spring Festival! They send their kid outside to watch the fireworks so they can have sex some alone time! (Merciless killers. How the fuck so adorable?) Someone must have backed up an entire truckful of money to the house of someone very important to get this aired, because what is the heterosexual explanation for … any of this?

Other thoughts:

We continue to get small things that maintain the parallels between Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishou and Gu Xiang/Cao Weining, including the mirrored theme of finding a home with a welcoming family, shown through family dinner, and expressed through WKX’s description of his former self as a “lonely ghost,” echoing A-Xiang’s self-description (to Shen Shen in an earlier ep) the same way.

HAN YING! Listen, I am stupidly attached to this bit player, and not just because he’s a familiar face (because half of Wen Xu’s screentime in The Untamed was just a disembodied head hanging at the entrance to the Unclean Realm, so it’s not like there was time to get … attached). And I say stupidly attached because ever since we first saw the way he looked at ZZS with big puppy heart-eyes, I knew he was going to be a goner. I just know they’re gonna fridge him for the next step in ZZS’s journey, because something has to pry ZZS out of Four Seasons Manor, as much as I, personally, would like nothing better than to see 8 more episodes of wedded bliss for two gay dads and their son. (OK, one thing I would like better would be if their daughter and son-in-law came to live with them, too.) At least it looks like Han Ying will get to die taking a figurative bullet for ZZS, which will make him happy and might prevent him from finding out the Glazed Armor he’s so proud of bringing is actually pointless, because don’t think that didn’t hurt to know while I watched him being so proud of managing to get his hands on it. But I’d prefer he didn’t die at all, show. Also, why on earth are there only two (completed) stories under the ZZS/Han Ying label on AO3? Because yes, I have looked. I have the search open in another tab right now. Why haven’t more people taken advantage of this guy’s utter devotion for ZZS? How are people looking at the way Han Ying reverently brushes his fingers over the single white blossom on the wall mural in ZZS’s rooms back in Prince Jin’s palace and not falling all over that?

Xie’er, oh, Xie’er. You’re killing me, here. I need someone to rescue you, you desperate affection-starved little sociopath. So, to recap, last time we met, your Awful Yifu finally let it slip that he was never ever going to acknowledge your existence in public. So now, you’re being a very clever boy, setting up a scheme to manipulate him into having to publicly acknowledge you if he’s going to claim credit for your successes (because I’m sure you can’t even contemplate failure) in service to Prince Jin. So clever, but I hate to tell you, you’re clever at everything except learning from your mistakes when it comes to your Awful Yifu. You really learned nothing from Beauty Ghost, did you? Ugh, your sad little face as you watch your hot mess of an Awful Yifu while you wait for the maids to make tea – it hurts me. Please tell me you’re playing some kind of long game, and you’re just a really great actor. Because he’s sloppy drunk, and right now, watching your face journey, I think maybe you think that makes what he’s saying true – that he’s not guarding his words, and he means it when he tells you that of course he loves you and would never leave you. “Are you still angry with me?” Awful Yifu literally asks. “Alright, I’ll apologize. I was just mad. It didn’t mean anything. We’re together in this. I’ll always stand by you.” Xie’er, you have got to stop believing gaslighting abusive men who shovel that BS. This is what they call the honeymoon period in the cycle of abuse. Seriously. This is textbook. Please stop making the same mistakes over and over again. Maybe think about the fact that your Awful Yifu is, single-handedly, the reason the Department of the Unfaithful actually exists in the first place. He is THAT AWFUL. I would like to think actually seeing his serial killer trophy room will make a difference, now that you have some confirmation of what Tragicomic Ghost told you and not the ability to wave it off as part of some he-said, she-said situation where how could we ever possibly know the truth, despite the fact that Zhao Jing has shown he’ll stab anyone in the back in his quest for power? But, then, I also thought maybe learning last ep that he never planned to publicly acknowledge you would make some kind of difference. Are you going to roll the dice again, gambler? Because I’ll tell you right now, the house always wins. (Not that you’d listen to me anymore than you listened to Beauty Ghost.)

(Also, wait wait waitwaitwait. Waitaminit. This is pure speculation and probably way too out there to be true (oh, but, someone’s going to write this AU for me, right?) Hot-mess drunk yifu tells Xie’er that they’ve been depending on each other “ever since I picked you up and brought you back home.” I can’t remember if we know anything about Xie Wang’s background at this point, but it does sound like Zhao Jing might have literally yoinked him off the street to raise him. He … he doesn’t think Xie’er is actually Yan’er, does he? Only he kidnapped the wrong orphaned urchin by mistake? I’m just sayin’, thinking back to Shen Shen’s reaction to finding out Zhen Yan was still alive, it would be exactly the kind of thing Zhao Jing would do, to keep this kid that his brother(s) wanted to find hidden right under their noses.)

Chengling and the chicken. I can’t, y’all. And Zhou Zishu’s face as soon as he realizes what Wen Kexing is telling Chengling to do – he knows this is going to be a show.

Prince Jin, you are almost as bad as Xie’r and his awful Yifu combined:

Prince Jin: Zhou Zishu, you mastermind, your super-secret spy network continues to spread everywhere, including into my very own palace. Oh, the things you must be plotting against me!

Zhou Zishu, chillin’ at Plum Blossom Manor, day-drinking, dressing up in pretty festive robes, taking advantage of his disciple’s unpaid labor so he doesn’t have to raise a finger for himself, and providing his husband with sex so incredible he is never required to actually cook: “OK, my gay husband and our son-with-two-dads, how about we just stay here together forever and be happy?”

Also Prince Jin: *Creeps on Zhou Zishu like a gaslighting m’fker*

Anyway, if Prince Jin always knew what Han Ying was up to all along, is the letter about ZZS’s father a plant, with false info? It was just kind of suspiciously hanging out in the open on Prince Jin’s desk.

#zhao jing #xie wang #zhou zishu #wen kexing #gu xiang #cao weining #zhang chengling #han ying #prince jin #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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ticklishpeter · 4 years ago

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oh, diego (diego/basically everyone)

SELF-INDULGENT FIC HELLO!! i truly had lots of fun writing this and i’m,,, just so soft for this boy. i hope y’all enjoy!!!!

summary: there were two things diego just never grew out of: his love for knives, and his unbearably ticklish tummy.

word count: 2,776

7 months.

Seven months of the seven tiny superpowered babies living in Reginald’s household. Grace, of course, couldn't comprehend that fact; and Reginald was always too “busy” to. Making her rounds through the halls, she found herself stopped outside of the master bedroom, suddenly attentive towards a familiar sound.

“Oh, Diego,” Grace muttered over the sound of his loud crying coming from the second crib in the lineup of seven. He’d always been the loudest crier.

“Hey, silly,” she smiled, reaching into the crib to hold the baby. Bouncing him up and down, she hummed a little song.

His dark eyes stared at her, within seconds he'd quieted down, even beginning to smile a bit.

“There's my boy.” Grace wiggled her fingers lightly on his tiny stomach, chuckling at the bubbly laughter that the action produced.

Tummy raspberries always had done the trick for Diego. He could be crying one second and squealing with sweet laughter the next, which is exactly what happened that night; he got all tickled out.

“Goodnight, silly.”

No more tears left his eyes that night, as he dozed off alongside his six siblings.

4 years.

“Oh,” Grace hummed, noticing the warm glow of Number Two’s Batman lamp through the crack of his door. She opened the door further, only to find him twirling a slightly rounded, tiny, ‘child-safe’ knife that he'd gotten for his birthday; purely for practice purposes. “Diego, sweetie, it's time for bed.” Her voice was soft and sweet, much unlike Reginald’s.

“But I don't want to,” he whined, typical for a four year old, as he sat up in his bed, back resting against the wall and his legs sprawled out in front of him.

Grace thought for a moment, looking at the floor with a small smile, before looking back up at her clearly sleepy son, “Well, what if I told you…” She sat at the edge of his bed with wide playful eyes, “that the tickle monster says it's time for bed.”

“No he didn't,” Diego crossed his arms, holding his chin up high towards her with a knowing smile.

“Yes, he did,” Grace corrected him, “and he's right here!” Growling playfully, she grabbed at his tiny thighs, pinching up and down.

A loud squeal escaped Diego's mouth, “No! M-m-mama,” he giggled, instinctually twisting and turning his body to and fro.

“Sh, sh, shh,” his mother chuckled jokingly, “You don't want to wake the others, do you?”

Diego slapped a hand over his mouth shaking his head, attempting to stop the flood of giggles, only to squeal again, perhaps even louder, when he felt Grace’s mechanical tickling fingers move their way up to his tummy.

“Mama,” he giggled, arching his back and kicking his little legs.

“Who's ‘mama?’ I'm the tickle monster, remember?” Her deep, gruff, pretend-voice mixed with the teasing made little Diego laugh even louder. She took advantage of his PJ shirt riding up slightly, slipping her fingers underneath it, poking curiously at his belly button, “What's this? A tickle button?”

Diego screamed the highest-pitched scream you would ever hear out of a little boy, “NO,” he hiccuped, curling up his body and attempting to roll onto his stomach in defense, “No more tickle monster! Tickle monster, go away! I'll go to sleep! Promise!” he laughed, slapping at Grace’s hands.

As soon as Grace let up, Diego settled his head back onto his pillow, wary about any additional tickles that would ensue if he didn't.

“Goodnight, Diego,” she laughed, placing a kiss to his temple and tucking him in under his matching Batman blankets.

He slept with a small smile throughout the night.

7 years.

It was sparring time; everyday from nine to noon. Diego hadn’t slept well, as it was his first night without a night light, which he never admit to the others. With the lack of sleep, and the totally unfair matchup of him and his super strong brother, he was a bit slow today.

Luther and Diego tussled on the floor, surrounded by padding and soft mats in case of any throwing around. All had been going as it always did, until the wrestling ceased, “Oh!” Luther yelped at the super sudden movement and wince beneath him.

“Diego, are y-?” Thinking he had hurt him by accident, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise when he saw a grin on his smaller brother’s face. Noticing Diego’s firm grasp on his wrist, in addition to the fact that his hand was pressed to his stomach, everything clicked.

Diego practically saw the lightbulb in Luther’s brain turn on, and he began to squirm. “N-No,” Number Two whined, a strain in his voice as he tried hopelessly to push the strong hand off of his middle.

A chortle left Luther’s mouth as he began to wiggle his fingers. The screech that followed made a few of the other siblings stifle their own laughter.

“Stop it! No -” he growled, trying not to laugh, twisting his body around as he pushed as hard as he could at his brother’s tickling hand. “Dad! One’s ch-che-...cheatihihing! - AH!”

Why wasn’t his father doing anything? Was this fair? It sure didn’t seem like it.

Luther’s tickles were relentless, and surprisingly light, which only made things worse. The high-pitched scream that escaped him made him blush as he squeezed his eyes closed, “S-s-stop it! Sh-shut up!” He could hear his siblings laughing at the probably pitiful sight.

His legs kicked and drummed at the matted floor beneath them as he reached an arm out to smack the floor, tapping out. “Stop, stop! O-Okay! I give.”

He stood, pout plastered on his face, as he bumped Luther with his shoulder and made his way over to his siblings.

11 years.

“Oh,” Five scoffed and crossed his arms, “Diego, c’mon! We don't have all day.” He stood alongside his four other crime-fighting siblings, in line for their monthly physical exams.

“Sh-shut up. I-I can … d-do-do it,” he muttered, readjusting himself on the paper-covered table. The scowl on his father’s face made him want to cry, so he closed his eyes, gripping the sides of the table in anticipation.

“Diego, sweetheart, you have to relax your stomach, dear.” Grace stood over him, on the other side of the table, opposite Reginald.

He relaxed his muscles as much as he could, before tensing them back up with a sharp gasp when he felt his mother’s cold robot hands touch his stomach. “No!” Squeezing his eyes closed, he whined and turned his head away, trying his hardest to focus his mind on something other than his poor ticklish middle.

Mere seconds after the examination continued, Diego was sitting straight up, covering his middle, and looking at his father with puppy-dog eyes, “Ca-c-can I have a b-...break, please? M-m-m-...maybe Five can go?” His stutter always became especially prevalent when he was nervous.

“No,” Reginald snapped, “Number Two, we don’t have all day, and three of your siblings still have yet to be examined. We need to be wise with our time.”

Diego closed his eyes again with a nod as he settled back down onto the table.

“I'll try to be quick, sweetie,” Grace said to him over the squeak that left the boy’s mouth when she placed her hands back onto the hypersensitive skin.

Diego’s lips formed a straight line as he tried to keep his laughter at bay, but as soon as his mother reached his lower tummy, he broke, drumming one foot on the table. A stream of uncontrollable giggles, punctuated by snorts and squeaky hiccups, flowed out of his mouth as he grabbed at the table, ripping the paper in the process.

He held onto her wrists as she finished up the examination, as if it would help him feel more in control and therefore, less tickly, to no avail. Trying his very hardest not to pry them away, he wriggled and screeched at the feeling of each finger prodding into his belly.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Diego? Ticklish tummy?” Klaus laughed, elbowing a giggling Luther. Allison laughed as well, glancing over at Five, who was trying not to smile, and Ben, who was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, almost.. Nervously?

“Okay,” Grace’s kind voice piped up, seemingly a millisecond before Diego was on his feet and storming away, arms crossed and face red.

18 years.

Klaus caught Diego stealing another piece of their birthday cake, “Hey, you already had your piece,” he tattled, pointing at him, which directed Allison and Luther’s attention to him. Sighs and scoffs from the both of them only made him want to steal the cake more; he loved making his siblings mad.

“Oh, Diego,” Allison exclaimed in an almost warning tone, “We’re 18 now, and you're… well…being a little bit of an ass,” she chuckled, turning to the rest of them, “I think he's deserving of 18 minutes of tickles, don't you guys?”

“N-no - hey,” Diego grunted, feet suddenly lifting off the ground before he could run, “P-put me down! Luther!” He kicked and writhed as much as he could within his brother’s strong hold, his arms flailing at his sides.

Luther had picked him up from his underarms, which had made his shirt ride up, and Diego imagined it looked absolutely pathetic.

“Oh, look Klaus! You remember how ticklish he was here, right?” Allison poked at his exposed tummy once, before laughing at the way he thrashed.

Diego’s eyebrows furrowed as he frowned, still using all his might to escape the situation, “No, I-I… I’m not,” he growled.

“Really,” Allison mused, her voice dripping with mischief as she crossed her arms and looked at him.

“Timer’s set! - It’s showtime.” Klaus stood and cracked his fingers with a smile before wiggling them teasingly towards Diego’s torso.

Number Two silently cursed at the giggle that had bubbled up in his throat. Looking at those goddamn fingers and knowing how much they were about to tickle was enough to make him squirm like mad. “St-stohop,” Diego kicked a leg out, as if he could push his two menacing siblings away, but they just kept coming closer.

Diego let out a strangled noise and his smile grew bigger as they moved towards him. Why could he already feel it? … Or at least, he thought he could, because the second he felt ten brutal nails touch down on his stomach, and ten more fingers wrap around his sides, he was done for. He yelped and twisted fervently, “F-f-fuck OHOFF -” he guffawed before his laughter immediately went silent.

“Sorry, Allison, did I hear him right? He said he’s not ticklish?” Klaus inquired, an eyebrow raised as he squeezed expertly up and down his smaller brother’s sides.

“That’s what I thought he said too. But look at him now! He’s so giggly and squirmy! Looks pretty ticklish to me.” Allison smiled with a shrug, poking all ten of her fingers into the flesh near his waistband.

“Shut up,” he squeaked, definitely trying to sound intimidating, but he ended up sounding just like he did when he was seven years old, which made him blush at himself, attempting to hide his face in his shoulder. Falling into a fit of snorts and cackles when Allison and Klaus burst into a cacophony of “tickle, tickle, tickle”s and “kitchie koo”s did not help his case in the slightest as he felt his face heat up and he kicked his legs around helplessly.

“Aww, isn’t his laugh just the cutest?” Klaus cooed, skating his fingers around to his stomach. Allison nodded as she shook her hands into either side of his belly button.

Diego’s eyes wettened and his struggles became weaker, “Shut up,” he mouthed through silent laughter. A loud hiccup made him whine and hide his face again.

Needless to say, Klaus and Allison took their sweet time; 18 full minutes of unbearable torture.

Some birthday, Diego thought, about an hour later when he came to. And he never even got his extra cake.

25 years.

“Oh, Diego,” A blissful sigh left Patch’s lips as she plopped down onto the bed next to him, “You're so fucking good at that.” Her hand traced over the scar on the side of his head and down to his chest.

“You’re so fucking good at all of it,” he hummed, slapping the other’s butt before moving his hand up to hold her waist. Their lips found each other’s, both sighing into the kiss. That is, until Diego angled his head away with a sharp inhale. He just couldn’t help but notice Patch’s nails tracing little shapes right below his chest. A gulp.

Patch’s eyebrows furrowed as she moved her head back to look at her boyfriend.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he squirmed ever-so-slightly.

Not slightly enough.

“No way,” Patch grinned, “Are you ticklish?” She spidered her fingers over the side of his stomach.

“N-Nohoho,” he pressed his lips shut after the unfairly cute giggle slipped out. The eye contact seemed to make it three times worse.

“It sure sounds like you are,” Patch only smiled bigger as she continued to scribble her nails around Diego’s toned stomach, laughing at his dramatically violent reactions.

He laughed louder than her though, cackling when she pinched the area right below his belly button. He flung his legs up, getting his knees as close to his chest as possible… but god damn it, her hands were still there. His curling up ultimately made it more difficult to get away from them. “S-stop,” he whimpered between bouts of laughter, letting his legs kick back down, only exposing his worst spot more, “Eudorastopit!” Rolling onto his stomach, he managed to push her wrist away.

“You are never gonna be safe now, you know that?” She propped herself up on her elbow, smirking down at the blushing man as he tried to recollect his breath.

“I know,” he mused, unable to help but smile as he turned his head away from her.

30 years.

It had been so long. Diego’s days in the 60s, upwards of 80 days, to be exact, had not been ideal. Of course, he’d met Lila, which… well, he wasn’t complaining about; but he wouldn’t say he was thankful for the asylum experience.

So when he’d gotten out and found himself residing at Elliot’s loft with his siblings, he was… happy? Even more so when he saw Klaus & Allison walk in the front door alongside Five.

He’d greeted Klaus with a mere “Oh, you are drunk.” Hardly even a greeting.

Allison noticed this. “Hey, Diego! Can’t say hi to nobody?” she later exclaimed across the room.

“Hi, Allison,” he muttered unenthusiastically, turning towards the stairs and away from his sister.

“What was that?” she called over to him, only for Diego to respond with a snarky middle finger and another indistinguishable mutter under his breath.

Allison cleared her throat, almost in warning, before opening her mouth when Diego still didn’t pay her any mind. “Hey! I heard a rumor that you stopped in your tracks,” she smirked knowingly.

“Dammit, No! — Allison,” he growled, fearing that he knew what was about to happen, according to his previous experience with getting stuck by her rumors.

She made her way over to her brother, who was struggling to move his legs. Crossing her arms, she stood next to him.

After poking experimentally at his side, she relished in the giggle that left Diego’s clearly reluctant grin. “I missed you, Diego.” Allison moved to his stomach and dug all ten fingers into it, knowing that his tough-guy front wouldn’t last for long.

“Shit! Fuck!” He squeaked out a variety of expletives and let out another small giggle before cursing at himself and falling into hysterics, in and out of silent laughter, “Okay, stop! S-stop it,” he growled, opening one eye to glare at her, which had perhaps been the least intimidating glare Allison had ever seen.

“You know what to say to make me,” she smiled, raising her eyebrows, and continuing to wiggle her fingers over any part of his belly that she could reach.

“ACK! — H-Hi, Allison,” he choked out through his laughter before tripping backwards over a step, now able to move.

“Thank you!” Allison couldn’t hold back a chuckle at her ticklish brother.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shooting his still-grinning sister another glare as he made his way weakly up the stairs.

“Sure didn’t miss those manners,” she called behind him as she followed him upstairs, not without noticing the snickers from the other siblings, who’d been watching the whole time.

“Oh, Diego,” they thought to themselves. Oh, Diego.

#!!!!!#ticklish!diego #tua tickle fic #tua #tickle fic #my fics

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nekoabiwrites · 5 years ago

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Love on the Fly Floor

My lecturer once told my uni class about this story of an actor who was crushing heavily on one of the flymen, and then they had said flyman be shirtless on the actor’s birthday when he was flown out - just to fuck with him. I loved it so much that I wrote it down and now I finally got around to writing it

(PS: the Fly Floor is where the flying is done for a show. And flying is raising and lowering pieces of set, which is done by flymen.)

AU: Theatre Pairing: Pining Prinxiety Words: 1411 Warnings: Nothing.

Summary: Roman is crushing bad on one of the flymen on his show. When his birthday rolls around, the cast and crew decide to help things along.

“Oh my goodness, Patton. You should have seen him the other day…” Roman sighed dreamily as he stretched his arms towards the ceiling. He was thankful that their current venue had provided the two of them a dressing room with enough space where he could warm up alongside his friend, rather than his usual routine of having to find another space somewhere in the building.

Patton giggled softly, trying his best not to move too much as he continued applying his stage makeup, “I dunno, Roman. Seems like you want to keep a sight like that to yourself.”

“Shut up!” Roman snapped to standing straight up, “Such stunning beauty should not be confined to just one person’s sight. It should be shared with the world!” He spun around, as if gesturing to said world. “Either way, he is far too gorgeous to be hidden so far up. He has just the most perfect face for the stage, and a strong physique too. Oh, he is so perfect…” Roman daydreamed happily as he took up a seat beside Patton, sighing as he did so.

“Alright, Birthday Boy. Maybe you can ask him for a present today?” Patton suggested, grinning widely when Roman’s face turned a lovely shade of red.

“I could never use that as an excuse! Besides,” Roman waved a hand in dismissal, “I’m sure someone like him either is uninterested in me, has a partner or is… straight.” Roman almost shuddered at the thought of someone he felt so strongly about being entirely incompatible with himself.

“How will you know until you ask, Ro?”

“…I won’t. But that is far too personal, Patton. It is highly unprofessional to pry into the affairs of a co-worker.” Roman ended the conversation there. Patton picked up on it quick and changed the subject, but the topic still lingered in the back of his mind.

“All company to the stage please. That’s all company to stage. Thank you.” The voice of the stage manager rang through the speaker high on the wall and the pair finished up their current tasks before taking the short walk to the stage. They managed to converge upon the stage at the same time as many of their fellow actors, all of which wished Roman a happy birthday when they approached him.

Roman thanked them but didn’t allow them to linger on the topic for long before starting up a new conversation. As much as he loved being the centre of attention, Roman didn’t want to seem too self-centred around his fellow cast members. He did have to travel with them for a few more months and his job would get far more difficult if they all started to despise him. His thoughts almost started to spiral into the darker side of things when the stage manager entered and caught everyone’s attention.

“Thank you all for arriving so promptly. We have some important things to get through before the stage can be reset. The most important things we’ll need to run are all scenes that involve flying people up and into the grid, so we can ensure the safety of all involved as a new flyman is joining the crew for the remaining shows. The crew are all set and ready to go, so if we could get prepared for that.”

The cast went to disperse, but a shout from the dance captain stopped them all. “Before we do that, there is one important thing we need to do!” He scurried off into the wings, followed by two ensemble dancers. They returned quickly with a card and a small cake. As if on cue, all the cast turned to Roman and began to sing happy birthday for him. It was short and sweet and Roman truly did appreciate the sentiment. He thanked them all graciously, offering hugs to all the cast around him.

“I’ll take them back to the dressing room, okay?” Patton said, taking the card and cake from Roman’s hands.

“Thank you, Patton. That is so kind of you.”

“It’s nothing! You have things to do anyway!” With that, the other man was off into the wings whilst Roman got into position.

He was handed his harness, which he was helped into before being hooked up to the thin yet strong wires that would allow Roman to be lifted. After the checks were done, the stage manager called out to him, “Alright Roman, are you ready?” He nodded in response, “Okay. You can take him up.”

Roman steadied himself as he felt his weight leave the ground. He was used to this by now, as he had been doing it almost four times a day for a while. They went through the scene, getting him moving from position to position, all under the watchful eye of everyone in the area. The scene was almost over, Roman delivered his last line and was flown high up into the grid, out of view of the audience. Underneath him, Roman knew that if he looked down, he would see the crew that were working fast to bring in the next set and another fly bar far ahead of him came in to mask his inevitable descent. It was almost over; he was so close. But Roman was never one who was good with avoiding temptation. He looked over to the fly floor and his mouth promptly fell open.

The man he’d been gushing about to Patton. The gorgeous flyman. The fantastically strong, mouth-wateringly pretty flyman. Was leaning against the railing. Staring directly at him. A smirk gracing his beautiful mouth. Utterly, wonderfully shirtless.

Roman’s mouth ran dry and his face quickly blushed as he took in the silent strength of the muscles that he could make out. The crossed arms that were resting on the bar were defined subtly, as were the rest of the chest and torso. The man’s skin was as pale as Roman had thought and it offered such a blank canvas that was just begging to be decorated. And then that infuriating yet intoxicating smirk and look that the man was giving him; he had to know that Roman was into him, there was no other explanation for that look.

The man played with his hair as he stood back up, pushing it into its usual position of almost covering his eyes before making a gesture that could only mean one thing: “call me”.

Roman didn’t know when his feet had reached back onto the ground. Nor when he’d been crowded by people. He was dazed, almost as if the sight had completely dazzled him and left him brainless. It was only when people started laughing that Roman managed to snap out of it. He noticed that they were all looking at him and that all the set was still in its original position. Roman’s brain pieced everything together in an instant, “You… you all set this up!” The laughter got louder at his realisation. Roman pouted and crossed his arms, “You’re all disgusting creatures! How could you?! Taking advantage of my situation like that! I am delicate! What if you had destroyed me?!”

A soft chuckle broke through the loud laughter and an arm wrapped around Roman’s waist, the free hand of the person behind him unhooking the wires, “What are you gonna do about it, Princey?”

Roman stood straighter, his mouth suddenly dry once more as he looked down at the black-painted nails and the bare arm. “I’m going to… to… um…”

“You are going to call me.” Roman had to fight not to shudder at the breath that fanned over his neck as the flyman whispered so close to his ear, the tone deep, rich and oh so sinful. A piece of paper was slipped effortlessly into Roman’s hand, “And, when the show is over, you’re going to dinner with me.”

“I… we, what?”

“Dinner. You know, eating, drinking, talking. All that stuff. We’re doing that after the show tonight. My treat, birthday boy.” With that, the flyman left. He sauntered off in the direction of the backstage corridor before someone called out to him.

Roman was still a little shocked from the interaction. He’d not actually considered that he’d be interested in him, let alone would be taking him out on a date… He looked down at the paper in his hand, the scribbled name above the number just about legible, “Virgil…” the name fell from Roman’s lips like a prayer.

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist Recreating Masterlist: https://nekoabiwrites.tumblr.com/post/611395890160238592/recreating-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides @hogwarts-my-love

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Prinxiety #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Creativity Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Morality Sanders #Theatre AU

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jamielea81 · 5 years ago

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Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 7

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, pining, fluff

A/N: This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 3,959

Catch up with Chapter 6

“You so owe me. BIG time.” Travis said, getting into the Uber you ordered.

You had taken an Uber to the airport and grabbed another to go back to the hotel. Chris had offered up his driver, but technically that driver was paid by the studio and you didn’t want to take advantage like that. Besides, having a car on your own terms meant you and Travis could talk in private, minus the stranger driving you.

“I know. I know. And I appreciate you so much.”

When you texted him a week prior telling him you needed him to be your fake fiancé, he called you immediately. That call had been uncomfortable to say the least.

“So, let me get this straight. You told everyone your fiancé was named Travis? And then you showed Chris Evans a picture of me, Travis?”

“Yes, you, Travis,” you muttered. “It wasn’t on purpose. I wasn’t thinking and thought of you, one of my dearest friends. You should really take this as a compliment that I consider you husband material.”

“Ye-ah, sure. Compliment. What do you need me to do?”

A week later you were picking him up for the airport for his three-night stay in cold Vancouver. The plan was to get a room at a different hotel away from everyone else, but Monica had insisted on you taking the room while she bunked with Maggie who had her own room.

“Just don’t fuck on my bed,” she had said.

“What’s the plan today?” Travis asked.

The two of you had just gotten back to the hotel. Travis was laying across your bed with his arms behind his head.

“I’ve gotta be at the studio in two hours, so I thought we’d just hangout and catch up. We can order some food or eat at the studio when we get there.”

The plan was to have Travis come with you to the studio, meet everyone, and then head back on the shuttle bus to the hotel. He was then free to do whatever he wanted, but was not allowed to bring a girl back to the room. You didn’t even want to think about that scenario. It would frankly be a nightmare.

“Let’s order something. I’m kind of starving,” he said, sitting up and pulling out his phone from his pocket.

Monica, David,” you began, Travis’ fingers entwined with yours. “This is Travis. My fiancé.”

Boy, was that hard for your lips to spit out.

The fiancé. Finally, in the flesh,” Monica said.

“Thanks, for offering up your room,” Travis responded with a smile. It was too nice of a smile. You had seen that particular smile when you had been out with Travis. Your group of friends had called it his “take me home” smile. He needed to tone it down.

“Yeah. No problem,” Monica said, apparently not picking up on his subtle flirtation.

“So, this is the fiancé. ‘Bout time you came by for a visit.” David said, patting an arm on Travis’ shoulder.

“Trust me, I’ve tried, but this one won’t let me.” Travis said, putting his arm around your shoulders.

You scoffed and pushed on his chest. “You know that’s not true, babe. Our schedules just haven’t lined up.”

You and Travis always called each other babe, so saying it in front of your colleagues, no, work friends, wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Well, either away, it’s good to see her smile about something other than work. Are you as big of a workaholic as she is?” David asked.

“No one loves working more than this one. But she keeps me motivated, so I can’t complain,” Travis said, kissing your temple.

This is going better than I thought.

Hugh, the assistant director Steven, and Travis were all huddled together discussing shop. Travis was still and up and comer so he wanted to pick their brains since they both worked on major studio projects. You took the time to go over the scenes for today. Having found an unoccupied chair, you envisioned the scenes in your mind as you read through them. It was something you always were able to do and it worked well in your favor.

“Travis go home already?”

Chris

“Funny,” you deadpanned. “Yeah, he said it’s too cold here. Turned right back around for the airport. He’s one of those odd ones that’s actually from Los Angeles.”

Chris grinned, taking a seat on the table next to your script.

“That him talking to Hugh?” Chris asked pointing in the direction of the three directors.

“Yep. That’s him.”

Travis looked up and saw you looking in his direction. He raised his hand and gave you a wave. Boyish smile present on his face. He was good at that. Of course, you two had been friends for a long time, so it wasn’t too hard to pull off. He said something to Hugh and Steven and then jogged over to you.

“Hey babe,” he said, stopping in front of you.

Chris hopped off the table and got to his feet. Travis stuck out his hand.

“Travis, this is Chris,” you said as the two men shook hands.

“It’s great to meet you, man. Love you work.”

You internally rolled your eyes. You really hope he wouldn’t fan boy out and you could tell Travis was just on cusp.

“Thanks, man,” Chris replied.

What’s with the word man? Must be a guy thing.

“What time did ya get in?” Chris asked.

Travis looked at you. “Like, ten. Right, babe?”

“Yeah. Picked him up and we ordered some lunch before coming here,” you smiled back at Travis before looking at Chris.

Chris nodded his head absentmindedly. This whole interaction just felt weird and you couldn’t figure out why. It didn’t feel this way when you introduce Travis to the others, but you kind of just wanted to run away now.

“Travis is actually going to take off though. You’re going to nap, right Trav?” You got to your feet and wrapped an arm around his back.

“Yeah, figured I’d nap for a bit and then maybe go explore the area while I wait for you to get back.”

“I’ll call you when I’m on my way back,” you said, leaning into his side. Travis wrapping his arm around your front, giving you a squeeze.

Travis turned to face Chris offering him his hand again. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“For sure. ‘M having people over tomorrow actually, so I’ll see you there,” Chris replied.

He is?

“You are?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah,” Chris gave you a questioning look. “It’s a whole thing.”

You honestly had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but you weren’t going to have that conversation in front of Travis.

“Cool. Looking forward to it.” Travis looked back at you. “Walk me out honey?”

You nodded your head, and then looked back at Chris. “Be back in a few.” Chris nodded before heading to the table that held coffee and hot water for tea.

When you were safely out of view from prying eyes, you pinched Travis’ side. He yelped and released his hold on you, rubbing the offending spot with his hand.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“You need to control those flirty eyes of yours.”

Travis shook his head but kept pace along side of you. “I didn’t flirt with Chris.”

“Good one Trav,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “I’m talking about Monica. I work with lots of pretty people. You need to rein in the flirtiness. I don’t think you even know when you’re doing it.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close. “I love you, button. My eyes are only for you.” He touched his free hand to your nose. “Boop.”

You chuckled lightly and shook your head. “No wonder we didn’t work out.”

“Ouch! That hurt.”

“No, it didn’t,” you replied.

“You’re right. It didn’t,” Travis chuckled.

You snuggled into Travis’ side while you waited for his hired card in the cold. To anyone walking up to your exchange, they would buy that you were indeed a couple. The two of you were just close. It was no wonder his name was the first to pop in your head when you needed a name for your fiancé. You were lucky to have him as your friend and even luckier that he didn’t have anything going on this week.

“I’ll shoot you a text when I’m on my way,” you said, patting his head.

“Have fun at work dear!” he called, getting into the car.

You blew him a kiss before going back inside.

Filming had ended for the day which was great because you were beat. Waking up early to pick up your fake fiancé from the airport really took a lot of a girl. You sent a text to Travis to let him know you were on your way back.

Travis: I’ll order more food

Y/N: Chinese?

Travis: Anything for you dear

You chuckled to yourself, sliding the phone into your back pocket.

“What’s so funny?” Chris said, approaching you.

“Uh, nothing. Travis said he was ordering more food. That man can really put it away.” Chris hummed in reply. “So, you’re having people over tomorrow?” You gave him a questioning look.

“Well, I’d like to get to know this young man that plans to marry my friend. Figured having you guys and some others over would be a good idea.”

“He’s not that much younger than me. You really need to knock it off.”

You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much, but it did. It was such a double standard. What if you and Travis were really together? Him being five years younger wasn’t that big of a deal. Plenty of guys date and marry women ten or twenty years their junior.

Chris held up his hands in surrender. “I was only implying that he is a young man compared to me.”

“Yes, because you’re so old Mr. Evans,” you sassed.

“Older than you.”

“Ah, yes. That’s true. A whole what, four years? Tell me about the world, old wise one.”

“You offend me greatly, Y/N. I’m having a special get together in your honor and this is how you treat me.”

“Shuddup,” you mumbled.

“Make me,” he replied. Roughness ever present in his voice.

You let out a slow breath. He was too close to you. So, damn close.

“I, ah. I ah…have to go,” you stuttered out. “See you tomorrow?” You chuckled. “Of course, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You started to walk away. “See you tomorrow morning.” You were nearly to the exit and still couldn’t get your damn head on straight. You turned around to face him in the distance. “Night, Chris.”

Fuck me. I mean, really.

Thank goodness for an outdoor shoot, even if it was cold out. You bundled up as much as you could and still have the ability to walk. Keanu was filming with Maggie this morning on a couple of scenes, then she was shooting one scene with Chris before you wrapped for the day. You had some work to do back in your cubical slash office, but that was only because it was impossible to work with Travis in the room. He was technically on vacation, that you paid for, but you still weren’t going to ask him to turn down the TV. He was doing you this huge favor after all.

Since you were busy going over scenes with Keanu, Chris didn’t have the opportunity to talk to you for most of the morning. You sent him a wave from across “the stage” which was really just an open field. He returned it with a megawatt smile on his face. He sent you a text an hour later of him in makeup getting an open wound applied to his face. You sent him a GIF back of someone’s head in a toilet. There was such a comfortability there that you hadn’t experienced before.

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. This was not a good thing. Had this been another studio. Had this been another movie. Had you not lied to everyone you had gotten to know and worn your grandmother’s ring on your left-hand finger. Then maybe. Maybe you wouldn’t be scared out of your mind. Maybe you would flirt right back. Maybe you’d ask him to have a drink with you. Maybe you’d ask to see him after filming wrapped. Maybe in a year you could say that you and Travis called it off. But that couldn’t happen. How often did you keep in touch with the actors you had worked with? Maybe one. It was hard to do when everyone was working on other projects with a new group of people. He’d move on by then. Chris was too in demand. He’s too good looking. Too charming. There’s no way he’d be there a year from now. Let alone, interested in you.

Pressing the doorbell for the second time, Travis shook his head and turning the door knob on Chris’ condo door until it opened. Someone had propped open the door into the building, so you hadn’t buzzed to be let in.

“Trav!” you scolded.

“It’s a party. Relax.” Travis said, shrugging his shoulders.

Walking in, you waved as you saw a few people from the crew sitting on chairs and the couch in Chris’ living room. Kings of Leon’s Sex on Fire played in the background and you wondered if this was Chris’ playlist or someone else’s.

Maggie, Monica, Daisy, and Joe were our on the balcony with drinks in their hands. Monica spotted the two of you and motioned for you to come out there. You mimed a drink in your hand and held up the pointer finger of your other hand indicating that you’d be out after getting a drink of your own. Only one drink, of course.

You moved to the kitchen, spotting Chris, Keanu, David, and a few others from wardrobe and makeup. Essentially the people you interacted with the most.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Chris jested.

“My fiancé is pretty. It takes time for him to get ready,” you teased.

Travis smacked your butt. “Not true. She couldn’t keep her hands off-” You cut him off by putting your hand over his mouth and shaking your head.

“Give this man a drink! Please.”

David grabbed a beer from the fridge and passed it to Travis.

“Thanks, man,” he replied getting a nod from David. “And thanks for having us over,” he said to Chris.

“Oh yeah. No problem. We all kind of like this one and wanted to get to know you.”

“Such flattery. Kind of like. You’re going to make my head explode.”

Travis wrapped an arm around your back and kissed your temple. “Not you, my love.”

He was good. You had to give him that. He remembered all the little touches, things you were totally forgetting. You leaned into him a bit more and smiled at your friends.

“Beer me please,” you said.

When Harry Styles’ Adore You came on, you knew it wasn’t Chris’ playlist.

“Whose phone is playing this music?” you asked Monica.

“Chris’ actually. He found your Spotify playlist and added a bunch of your songs.”

You were pretty sure your eyes had popped out of your head. Okay, not really. But you were sure you resembled a cartoon character.

“Again. I don’t understand why he’s single. Most importantly, why hasn’t he asked me out?” she whined.

“Um…Not sure. I think he’s just really professional,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Well, I wish he would get a little unprofessional with me,” she whispered.

You chuckled awkwardly looking around the room. “Have you seen Travis?”

“I think he was talking to Maggie last time I looked.”

You nodded. “I’m going to grab another. Do you need one?”

“Of course. Thanks,” she replied.

Travis wasn’t on the balcony and he wasn’t in the living room with you, so you headed to the kitchen where the beer was. You spotted him immediately, a glass of dark liquid in his hand, one elbow leaning on the kitchen counter talking closely with Maggie. You rolled your eyes and shuffled to them.

“There you are babe.”

Travis looked up and held his free hand out to you. “Perfect. Y/N, come here. I was just telling Maggie about that script I got a hold of. Don’t you think she’d make a perfect Erika? She’s the right age and height.”

Maggie had the decency to look a little ashamed. Granted, you were sure nothing happened, but Travis was doing the lean in thing that no doubt led to the moving a strand of hair behind her head, which led to the hand hold.

Fuck, Travis.

“You know, babe, I haven’t read it in a while so I can’t recall at the moment. Could I actually talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, love,” he said sweetly. “I’ll talk to you about it later Maggie. We should exchange e-mails or something.”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll give it to Y/N to pass on,” she replied.

You gave her a tight smile and pulled Travis down the hall into the guestroom you had stayed in.

“Travis,” you said shaking your head.

His arms crossed over his chest. “What?”

“What?! Dude, you’re totally flirting.”

“I can’t just turn off the charm.”

“Could you at least try?” you asked. “I know you’re the one helping me out, but Trav, it looks so bad when you’re flirty. Why not just try flirting with me?”

“Ick! You’re like my sister.”

“Har-har. You’re so damn sweet to me.”

Travis pulled you into a hug. “You know I’m kidding. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

“I know,” you sighed. “That’s what worries me.”

You gave up on the whole one drink about an hour ago. You were on your third and it was helping. Travis was being very cuddly with you much to your relief.

Jonas Brothers’ What a Man Gotta Do came on and you physically clapped because it was one of your favorites.

“I'm not tryna be your part time lover. Sign me up for that full time, I'm yours, all yours,” you sang.

Travis grabbed your hand and spun you around causing you to erupt in giggles. He had always been into swing dancing. His mother owned a dance studio and he was required to choose one type of dance and he went with swing. You had no idea how to dance, but you had grown accustom through the years of Travis spinning you, Emma, and Joanna when he had the chance.

So what a man gotta do? What a man gotta do? To be totally locked up by you What a man gotta do? What a man gotta prove? To be totally locked up by you

“You guys are so cute!” Daisy cheered.

David along with Elaine from styling had both gone home in the last twenty minutes, but everyone else was hanging out in the living room. A couple of people sat on the floor. Travis and Joe sat in the two upholstered chairs, no doubt talking shop while Maggie, Monica, Daisy, Chris, and you all sat cozy on the couch.

“We should play a drinking game,” Monica suggested, handing you a new beer. There was a small cooler on the floor in front of the couch you hadn’t noticed before.

A sourpuss look flashed across your face causing Chris to chuckle. “Okay, that’s a no from Y/N.”

“What’s next for everybody after we wrap?” you asked, trying to change the topic.

“I’m filming in New Mexico. It’s a thriller, but I haven’t really read through the script.” Daisy said quietly. “I usually just let my manager handle all that.”

Maggie raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

“I’ve got couple of months off. Didn’t want to jump into something else right away,” Chris responded.

“You and I will be on the next project they put us on most likely. David said they liked us as a team,” Monica said, bumping you with her elbow. “I don’t see it.”

“Bitch,” you said, glaring at her.

“You love me,” she replied.

You popped a shoulder while taking a long pull from your beer. At least they were considering keeping you on.

Lizzo’s Cuz I Love You started to play on the speakers.

“Turn it up!” you shouted. When everyone turned to look at you, you ducked your head. “I really like Lizzo. Okay?”

“I don't know what I'm gonna do. I'm crying 'cause I love you, oh. Yes, you,” erupted from your mouth.

Maggie gasped out a laugh.

“It’s the best part of the song,” you replied bringing the bottle to your mouth once again.

Conversations continued, but when the chorus started again, Monica, Maggie, and Daisy all joined you.

“I'm crying 'cause I love you, yeah. I'm crying, hey,” the four of you sang out.

Chris gave you the most endearing smile causing you to lose any focus you may have had.

“What?” you asked softly.

Chris shook his head lightly, bumping his knee against your own. “You’re just cute.”

The chorus came around again and you sang it along with the other three, but your eyes were on Chris. “Cause I love you…” His eyes widen and you realized your error. You turned your head to Travis who was still deep in conversation with Joe. “Trav, I think we should head back to the room.”

He looked to you, seeing the worry in your eyes. “Everything okay babe?”

“Ye-yeah. I just want to spend some more time with you,” you said getting up from the couch.

A chorus of oohs echoed around the room. You promptly stuck your tongue out and spun around. Okay, it was safe to say you were a little drunk.

“Cars ordered. Says the driver is ten minutes out.” Travis said holding up his phone to you.

Chris promptly got up, turning his back to you as he promptly moved down the hall. “I’ll grab your coats,” he yelled over his shoulder. You were about to offer to help, but Travis offered before you could.

A minute later the two men were back. Travis promptly helping you with your coat. You gave Chris a hug but it was awkward as he hands just lightly tapped your back. It was an impersonal hug and you knew he was doing it for Travis’ sake. The two of you had been pushing boundaries without even trying.

Travis was on his way home and you were at work. The two of you had stayed up late as you confessed your feelings about Chris. Travis, the ever-supportive friend held your hand throughout as you relayed your fears about your job and your heart. That’s the funny thing about love, you never truly knew how the other felt. Love involved risks.

Chris was back to texting you several times a day. When Travis was in town, he didn’t text at all as he wanted to give you and Travis time together. Neither of you spoke about the get together at his place and you took at as a sign that it was all one sided. Filming would be ending soon and everyone would be back in Los Angeles where the spell would be broken. You lived in California full time and Chris was in Massachusetts eighty percent of the time. You wouldn’t see each other. In a matter of months, he’d be promoting this film and you’d be on to the next one.

Chapter 8

A/N: Tumblr wasn’t letting me tag a few of you. If your name is crossed off below, please check to make sure you can get tagged. Thanks!

Tag list: @chrisevansfanfic @zsuzstyina @peach-acid @hista-girl @trynnabemultifandom @mrsshiddleston @tfandtws @heyyouwiththeassbutt @evanlys19 @cheeseburgersstuff @evemej @whymalu @straightforwardly @deidrashouseofpain @samsgoddess @fanfictionaffair @sweet--rabbit@lakamaa12 @imaginesofdreams @captnstarryeyed @the-walking-daryl @illi-vanilli @benedictcumberbabe @the-walking-daryl @dezzylou24 @jennabenna12 @tinycertain @oncloudnani @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob @patzammit @heartislubbingdubbing @collinsstanharbour @twittytelly @linki-locks11 @ab-baybay @rda1989 @impalaimages @jesseswartzwelder @rainbowkisses31 @xostephanie @smoothdogsgirl @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xxloki81xx @thenormreedus @firstangeldragonranch @soitmightgetweird @maeleeme @denisemarieangelina @rvgrsbrns @icanfeelastormbrewing @velvetwonderbucky @kitkat1690 @smilexcaptainx @suppu97 @dangerouslovefanfic @dwights-new-plague @kelbabyblue@sweetlittlegingy @chrisevansforever @evansxxx @southerngracela

#chris evans #just a simple lie #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader insert #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #cevans #chris x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction

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hazbincalifornia · 4 years ago

Text

Amount of writing I’m getting done for OT and my IZ fic: Some.

Amount of writing I’m getting done for self-indulgent bullshit: Somewhat more.

Anyway, wrote out Bella meeting Sir Pentious because I was bit by the muse bug. This is written for the four people who know who they both are, f.

Wordcount: 2075

The second she saw the airship soaring through the red-tinted sky, shooting anything that looked at it funny, Bella knew she had to get inside of it. Let Kit flirt with their host (or, if she was honest, fail to flirt with, man, she didn’t even like flirting and even she knew that he turned into a pile of goopy mush when he was around a guy he thought was cute) and let Vee attempt to kidnap yet another animal to try and smuggle home, she wanted to find out who the heck made a steam-powered airship in the twenty-first century.

Or maybe Hell was actually stuck in the year 1900, who knew? Time probably passed funny in the afterlife, but the fact that nobody had shot them out of the sky yet said that there was something else afoot- the pilot had to have some way of warding off attacks considering rivals probably had, like, grenade launchers, and she wanted to find out how. Style merged with substance, ruling the air with confidence- and she wanted in.

“Hey! Hey you!” She flagged down somebody with four arms and purple fur who looked short enough to be less likely to punt her into orbit- Mom had warned that most people down here were mean as, well, Hell- and pointed up at the ship. “What’s the deal with those?”

“You a newly dead?” The demon raised one of their four eyes, and Bella nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, newly dead. Anyway. Story?”

“They’re made by Sir Pentious, one of the Overlords. He’s some kinda inventor, I’unno. Never blew up anything that mattered to me, so I never cared that much.”

“Sir Pentious…” She rolled the name around in her mouth, plucking the ‘T�� in the middle thoughtfully along with the rubber bands wrapped around her braces. “Got it. Thanks!”

“Er- you’re welcome.” They darted off, but that was fine. Now it was just a matter of actually getting onboard.

____________

She couldn’t find a rocket pack anywhere- lousy Hell lagging behind Earth technologically- but ended up stumbling across the next best thing in a warehouse that had an extra ship that had clearly been in some sort of accident. This one was only partially-reassembled, and there was a lot of burn damage sustained to the aluminum and copper outside, but that just meant that she could see the skeleton without having to slice through a lot of layers, so it was almost better- and a lot easier to crawl in one of the big holes in the front window via a pile of parts in front of it.

The interior was decorated like a mansion, with vivid yellows, reds, and blacks- she could respect the commitment to the aesthetic, especially with torn-open snakesheds and red eyeballs plastered everywhere. It looked like something out of Mom’s old comic book collection, toxic and yet intoxicating, every detail chosen for maximum dramatic potential. It must look even better with all the lights on and more than her phone’s flashlight illuminating bits at a time.

It was the best playground that she could imagine- nothing but her and a massive ship the size of an apartment building. Oddly enough, there wasn’t much dust- maybe it had crashed recently and was being held here for repairs? It was certainly of a similar design to the one that she’d seen from the ground, so she couldn’t imagine that it wasn’t just an iteration or two away.

Her fingers ran over the sleek machinery like it was sacred- some of it looked like it belonged in a museum, but the rest was cutting edge, and the seamless way they blended was like something out of a dream. A genius indeed- if she’d been born a hundred years ago and was suddenly thrust into the modern day, she could only hope that her tech would look this good. There was room for improvement of course, there always was, but it was loads better than most of what she saw digging through the junkyard, and a lot closer to the stuff she made with Grandpa Zim using his irken tech. Impressive for someone who’d clearly been dead for some time, considering he’d made enough of a name for himself that some rando off the street knew it.

“Genius inventor, huh…?” Bella pulled out her screwdriver, starting to work on freeing the control panel. It had a touchscreen and levers, what was that about? She had to know what it looked like underneath- did Hell even use cables and wires or was she going to need to drag Kit in to do his magic business here?

It took some doing- whatever had taken this particular ship down had welded the panel into place and it took a crowbar to pry off, ha, take that Venus for saying she ‘didn’t need to bring it’- but eventually she got into the guts of the thing. Sure enough, it was wiring, spiraled all into itself in a knot- it must have gotten all messed up at some point, maybe that was what caused the crash on top of whatever burnt the outside?

She was about to start taking it apart when she heard a pitter-patter behind her.

“I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it, ya know,” she said, rummaging around in her pocket before pulling it out. “Mom insisted I bring the one that can vaporize people since apparently half of you can’t even die the normal way anyway? Bunch of freaks.” Her finger twitched towards the trigger as the pitter-patter became a shadow as the thing scrambled up towards the same hole she’d come in. “I’m warning you, I’m a great shot. Won’t take two to blow your brains out.”

“Whoever you are, bossman says you gotta go!”

It was an egg. Not like some kind of insult, it was literally an egg, and probably a third of her size. It was also wearing a little hand-tailored suit and top hat. She stared down at it, and it stared up at her.

“Who’s bossman?” Bella asked after a few very long seconds of silence.

“You know… bossman!” It blinked. “He doesn’t like people pokin’ around his cool, cool stuff and you tripped the motion sensor. Hey, is that a ray gun?”

Bella’s finger eased off the trigger. “Yeah, it is. It can probably scramble you.”

“Oooh! Fun! Not as good as boss’s, I’m sure, but-”

“Hey, what say you take me to this boss?” Bella crouched down, knowing this was incredibly stupid but also already entirely committed to it. “Then he can decide what to do with me in person.”

“Hmm… alright, but no funny business!” The egg looked her up and down before turning heel, starting to clamor down the pile of parts. She had to hold back a snort when she saw that it had ‘#69’ written on its back.

Some things never changed no matter where you went.

____________

The egg blabbered on all the way back to the ship, mostly about jazz music oddly enough, but soon enough they were nearing a different ship that had settled behind a building. It was either the one she’d seen before or a duplicate, and she felt a shiver run up her spine as she got close- it looked a lot cooler in one piece and lit up bright yellow. Her phone buzzed, and she discreetly pulled it out as the egg launched into a diatribe on the importance of the saxophone. It was a text from her sister.

dolittle 🐭: bells where ARE you

dolittle 🐭: kits distracting clove so I could grab one of those bugdog things but moms gonna be asking how were doing soon, what should I say

Bella thought for a moment before sending back a reply. ‘im checking out that airship we saw earlier. have weapons. ill be fine. meet you back at the cafe later’

dolittle 🐭: be careful ok? know you can handle it but still

Bella smiled a little at that, sending a thumbs up before tucking her phone back into her pocket as they ascended the bridge.

“And then, then he saysss to me, he sayssss- Ah, there you are! Good, good.” She heard him before she saw him, voice booming as he welcomed his hench-egg back. “And what was poking around the warehouse?”

“This, boss!” The egg tugged at her jeans by the knee around the corner before pushing her forward with surprising force. “They said they wanted to see you!”

“Well well well!”

Bella’s antennae twitched as her eyes widened. The man in front of her was a jet black snake, with fangs, a top hat, a bowtie, and eyes on his face as well as nestled on the open space on his chest and hood. Best she could pin from Venus’s nature lectures he was a cobra of some sort, and there was a smug fang-y grin on his face as he slithered up to her, taking advantage of the height that his tail gave him- he’d probably be seven feet easy to Bella’s mere five foot one.

It took her only a moment to shake off her awe. “So you’re the famous Sir Pentious!”

His grin widened. “Ah! You’ve heard of me, little tresssspassser?”

“Obviously, considering I knew your name, right?”

“Er- yes!” He faltered for just a moment, and she went in for the kill.

“Your work’s fantastic, but you really need a way to keep the gutty stuff in order in case of a hit- that’s probably part of why that other ship went down, y’know? But your sense of design and how you mold your century-old designs with the new stuff- it’s fantastic, I just want to cut it all open and see how it works.”

“What did you do?” His hood flared, and she twirled the gun in her hands.

“I only touched the control panel, and your little egg boy got at me before I messed with anything, but I’d give anything for a couple of days working on the interior of this place- I bet I could make it run faster and with less fuel.”

The eye on his hat rolled itself as he narrowed the eyes on his face. “Who are you to come in and think you know better than I about my own shipssss? I should end you right here for your insolence and your trespassing!”

Bella folded her arms, glancing around. “Hmm… far left column, the one with a yellow eye instead of a red one.”

“What about it?” He folded his arms as well, waggling his head. “Are you-”

“It’s welded weird. Something went wrong with the metal when it was being forged, so you put it in the back so you wouldn’t have to look at it. You didn’t want to waste a perfectly good column because somebody screwed up one little part. And that’s just what I see looking around in, like, five seconds- gah!” The end of his tail had wrapped around behind her while she’d been talking, and struck before she finished her sentence, lifting her up to his eye-level with her arms pinned to her sides.

“Little wrench! How dare you?”

“I’m…” Her legs kicked a little, ribs feeling uncomfortably bendy at the moment as his scales pressed against her chest and back. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

His tongue darted out as he hissed, just barely brushing her nose before sliding back into his mouth.

“What do you really want, missy? I don’t like competition, you know.”

“You to let me breathe, for one,” she wheezed, fingers turning to try tickling what she could reach, and his cheek twitched funny before she dropped bodily to the floor, only managing to roll in time thanks to muscle memory from combat training. Thanks, Grandpas. “I really do just wanna see how all your stuff works. The ways I could improve my own inventions if I just could figure out how to blend different functionalities the way that you do...”

“I am quite impresssssive, aren’t I?” He puffed up his chest a bit. “And you have no intention to-”

Bella drew an X over her chest. “Cross my heart. You’re the bossman.”

He looked her up and down. “Hmm. Get back to me when you have a proper uniform and not those ragssss, and I suppose I could show you around a bit, if- if!- you show me something of yourssss. ”

Bella’s grin slipped into a smirk as she gave a bow. “Bella Donna at your service, then, Sir Penny.”

#iz #shadow writes stuff #hh

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mommadon · 5 years ago

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Adventurer: Chapter 2

Say hi on Ao3!

Chapter Two

There were fourteen missed calls on Adrien’s phone when he finally dropped his transformation and dared to look. Two from Nathalie, one from his bodyguard, and eleven from Kagami. He sighed. He was going to feel the consequence of his foray to the bakery. Still, he didn’t feel bad about it, not one bit. As he showered and climbed into bed, he couldn’t stop smiling.

He figured he’d put out a few fires before bed, so he quickly texted Kagami:

Adrien: So sorry about today. I swear I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. Ended up trapped in one of Adventurer’s carts and had to walk home. Can we talk tomorrow?

It was well after midnight, so he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond. Still, he knew a big conversation was inevitable, and he’d have to make it face-to-face. Ladybug’s words to him rung in his ears… you can’t be two people at the same time… so that begged the question: who did he really want to be? Were Adrien and Chat Noir two different people? He had never really thought that much about it. He felt free as Chat Noir. Adrien’s life was so controlled and intense. But he liked himself as Adrien as well—he knew he was a good person, and that had to count for something.

He shook his head to clear these way-too-deep-for-this-late thoughts, bid goodnight to Plagg, and postponed any further pondering for morning.

When Marinette came down the stairs for breakfast Sunday morning, her parents immediately knew something was off. Of course Marinette was smiling, of course she ate breakfast and made pleasant conversation. But something was off.

“Marinette, dear, are you sure everything is alright?” Sabine asked for the third time.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yes, everything is just fine. I think I’ll go for a walk though.”

“Do you want any company?”

“No, I just want some quiet time. Unless you need any help here? I can certainly stay—”

“We’re fine, sweetheart,” Tom insisted. “Why don’t you take your sketch book?”

“That’s a good idea,” she said, a bit absently. A few minutes later, Marinette struck out on the streets of Paris, armed with her sketch book and pencil.

She didn’t come home for hours. “Who should we call?” Tom said, nervously pacing the bakery floor.

“Oh Tom, there’s no need to panic. Our daughter is more than capable of getting home by herself, and she’s only been gone a few hours. She said she needed some quiet time. Give her space. She knows we love her.” “But Sabine, are you sure she’s safe?”

“Of course. She had a hard time yesterday with Adventurer,” Sabine consoled, stroking her husband’s broad shoulders. “We know how much she cares for Luka. It must have been torturous for her to see him akumatized, and then to have to go after him herself—she deserves a little bit of time to think through things—”

“That’s my fear,” Tom said, pacing again, “She’s now shown us she’ll fly straight into danger without even thinking…”

Sabine laughed a little. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you call her and find out where she is. She has her phone on her, you know.”

“No, no,” Tom said brusquely, accelerating his pacing, “I don’t want to invade her privacy.”

Sabine laughed harder this time. “Whatever you say, dear. I’ll be in the office, preparing orders for next week.”

“Adrien!” He looked up at the sound of his name, but inwardly groaned when he saw the smiling face that had called it. “Look! Our photos were highlighted in Paris Teen Weekly!” Lila stuffed a copy of the magazine in his face. “How should we celebrate? How about dinner tonight? I know this adorable little bistro and ever since I saved his vanilla bean farm from being sold to hippopotamus hunters, the chef and I have been very close.”

“Uh—” Adrien could barely breathe, she was so close.

“Excellent!” she squealed, squeezing his arm. “Give me your phone so I can—I mean you can make the reservation. I don’t like to take advantage of our friendship.” She talked so fast that he couldn’t quite make sense of what she had said. All he knew is that she was digging her hands into his pockets looking for his phone, and he felt horribly uncomfortable.

“Hey Adrien,” a gentle voice said from behind, that brought both him and Lila up short. Lila’s hands flew back to herself, and Adrien released a gasp of relief.

“Marinette!” He said, prying away from Lila’s clutching fingers. “Did you have a good weekend?”

She gave a little half smile and said, “Just fine, thanks.” Adrien didn’t know why, but he wasn’t sure he believed her. They started walking lazily toward the classroom. “I have something for you,” she said. She opened her backpack and pulled out three pink and white boxes of passionfruit macarons. “I’m afraid they’re a day old. Chat Noir and I made these for you on Saturday afternoon, but when Adventurer got akumatized, he forgot them.”

Adrien feigned surprise. “Chat Noir made those? With you?”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah, he said he was having a rough day, so he spent a few hours in the bakery and my dad taught him how to make macarons. He said he wanted to try passionfruit because you had recommended it once.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess I did do that, huh? Well, thanks! What’s Chat Noir like anyway? Super cool?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “I thought you two were friends.”

“Oh, oh yeah, of c-course we are. He’s a nice guy. I was just wondering what you thought.”

“It was fun,” Marinette responded with a much more convincing smile. “Usually he’s pretty self-absorbed, but Saturday, he was…”

“Was what?”

But whatever Chat Noir was, Adrien didn’t find out, as the bell rang and Marinette’s eyebrows few to her hairline. “Oh no! And I was actually on time today!” She pressed the boxes of macarons into Adrien’s hands and bolted for her seat. He chuckled to himself. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but she was different today.

“GIRL!” Alya hissed seconds after class dismissed for lunch. “You talked to Adrien! Without tripping over yourself!”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t… I just brought cookies to a friend.”

“Wait, don’t you like him anymore?” Marinette stole a quick glance at the blonde still packing his things up at his desk. He was talking to Nino. Just then, he looked up and their eyes met. One corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes softened. Her stomach flipped and her pulse quickened.

“Oh Alya, I don’t know--” Alya laughed at the exchange, but Marinette held up a hand to her, “—but he’s in love with Kagami. Kagami’s so cool, I just don’t compare.”

Alya shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. I mean, you’re… you know… and you still think you don’t compare.”

Marinette grabbed Alya’s wrist, “Shh!”

Alya just laughed lightly. “I know, I know. We talked about it. I promise I’ll be good.” But Marinette’s eyes still dropped and her shoulders sagged. “Are you ok?” Alya pressed.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Marinette said vaguely as the two walked out the door toward the locker room.

“Do you want to get lunch with me?”

“Nah, I’m not super hungry, I think I’ll just go for a walk. Get some quiet time, you know?”

“Well, at least make sure you eat something.”

“Yeah,” Marinette said with a little shrug. “Maybe I’ll do that.” As Marinette strolled away, Alya’s eyebrows knit in concern. Now the text she had received from Marinette’s mom on Sunday afternoon made more sense. Alya pulled out her phone to re-read:

Sabine Cheng: Would you keep an eye on Marinette for me? I don’t know what, but I think something’s up.

Alya: sure thing, Ms C.

Now Alya added to the conversation:

Alya: I see what you mean, Ms C. do u think this is about adventurer?

It took a few minutes to get a response, so Alya got some food at the cafeteria and sat at the table where Nino and Adrien were still talking. She tuned them out.

Sabine Cheng: I don’t know. Come to think of it, it started a few weeks ago.

Alya wracked her brain. A few weeks ago was that awful fight with Miracle Queen and Hawkmoth. A few weeks ago was when Master Fu had left and Ladybug had been named the next guardian. Alya tapped her fingernail on her teeth as she put it together. Poor Marinette had been dealing with the weight of Paris on her shoulders.

Alya: I think I know what it is. Marinette has a lot of responsibility here at school. She’s stressed.

Sabine Cheng: hm. You are probably right. Any ideas of how to help?

Alya: lemme think. I’ll get back to u

Sabine Cheng: Thanks dear

Adrien’s voice pulled her from her phone, “Alya, have you noticed anything strange about Marinette recently?”

“Dude, are you going to share those macarons, or do I have to steal one from you?” Nino asked as soon as the bell for lunch rang. The room buzzed with the noise of scraping chairs and a dozen conversations breaking out. He and Adrien stood and started packing up their things. “They’ve been taunting me all morning!”

“Oh, sure, of course!” Adrien held out one of the boxes to Nino who took four greedily and stuffed one, whole, in his mouth. “Oh man, these are the best. Marinette sure can bake!”

Adrien carefully stowed the box back in his bag, then looked at Marinette. She was talking to a very animated Alya. Just then she turned her head and looked back at him. They made eye contact and Adrien couldn’t hold back his smile. The thought crossed his mind again that she looked different today, somehow. “Yeah,” Adrien said, turning back to Nino and heading for the door. “She sure can bake. Have you noticed anything different about Marinette, though?”

“Marinette? Different?” Nino questioned through a second mouthful of macarons.

“When she brought me the macarons, she seemed different. And Saturday… I mean, last week sometime she just seemed… I can’t quite figure it out.”

Nino chuckled. “She’s not different, she’s just dating Luka and so she finally can talk to you without tripping all over herself.”

“What?” Adrien scoffed.

“Yeah, she’s been hung up on you for so long, dude, that she could never talk to you. But now that she’s dating Luka, she’s moved on.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh come on dude, it’s not like it was that big of a secret…” Nino backpedaled.

“Marinette was… hung up on… and no, she’s not dating Luka.” Adrien’s brain was buzzing.

Nino’s hands flapped with the realization of his blunder. “I mean, it wasn’t like really hung up, it was like, just kind of a thing and she just didn’t want to and Alya told me not to say anybody likes anybody and… Hang on. She’s not dating Luka? Says who?”

“Says her,” Adrien replied simply.

“When did she tell you she wasn’t dating Luka?”

A year of covering Chat Noir’s tail came in handy sometimes. “I got sucked up in one of those carts on Saturday with Adventurer. I heard her tell him that she just wanted to be friends.”

Nino raised an eyebrow. The boys finished collecting their lunches and sat down. Alya was texting someone and sat with them. Adrien was still processing what Nino had said. He was reminded of something Marinette had confessed to him—or rather, to Chat Noir—on Saturday. Someone she had hoped would be someone. Hung up on him. Was Marinette…

“Dude, don’t read into things,” Nino said, as if he could see the wheels turning in Adrien’s brain. “Marinette is the same old Marinette we’ve always known and loved.”

“Yeah,” Adrien said and took a slow bite. “Still, Alya, have you noticed anything strange about Marinette recently?”

Alya’s head snapped up from her phone. “Ma-Marinette? Strange? Uh, uh… why would you think there was anything strange about Marinette?”

Nino and Adrien both noticed the over-the-top response. Adrien smirked, “So, you have noticed something’s up.”

But Alya had been steeling herself for this moment all weekend, ever since Marinette had brought her the fox miraculous and placed all Ladybug’s cards in her shaky hands. Alya knew then that her friendship with Marinette had changed into a fully-fledged partnership, and now it had to include protecting this crucial secret at all costs. “Ok, you’re right,” she responded smoothly. “Marinette’s super busy and I think she’s feeling the stress of it all. I mean, between being class representative, designing yet another album cover for Jagged Stone, upcoming finals, and submitting dress designs to two major fashion houses around Paris, I think she could just use some cheering up. Or helping hands.” The two boys just sat and gawked. “She’s really got all that going on?” Adrien whispered, aghast.

Alya just laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh you two, she’s always had that much going on. Sometimes more.”

“But surely she’d just say no if it got to be too much,” Nino countered.

Alya laughed harder still. “Marinette? Say no? Don’t you know her at all?”

The three of them laughed again, but again the wheels whirred in Adrien’s head. Alya was right—Marinette never said no. Marinette never turned anyone away, or asked for help, or thought about herself. It was just so second nature for her; he’d never thought it might be burdensome. But wasn’t he one of the masses placing their emotional burdens on her petit shoulders? Wasn’t she the one he’d instinctively gone to after that horrific half-hour in the archery range? “So, Alya, do you have a plan?”

Marinette’s feet thumped soundlessly along the familiar pavement, taking her home. Her bones ached—a deep, permanent, throbbing reminder that everything was on her shoulders now. There was no one she could talk to, no one to share the load with. She missed Master Fu; she missed racing to his home to ask for help; she missed knowing that there was backup in case she failed, that there was someone out there who always knew what to do. Her fingers instinctively lifted to her earlobe and felt the tiny black earrings there. They felt heavier than ever. She breathed in deeply and kept walking. She had briefly felt comfort in Luka’s calm, listening ear. But now that escape was lost to her forever. She remembered the comfort of the underwater hug with Chat Noir and then again two days ago, without her mask, moments before Adventurer got akumatized. She was grateful she’d told Alya her identity and had someone to talk to about things now, but she knew that she’d have to be incredibly careful—Hawkmoth knew Alya was a miraculous holder, and would undoubtedly be watching her every move, just as he had Chloe’s.

Oh, Chloe. She’d only come to school a handful of times in the last few weeks, and even then, she’d been totally aloof. And then there was Lila, who was just the opposite—way too close, way too loud, and way too devious. But Marinette was having a hard time feeling the drive to help them, as she knew she should. She was having a hard time feeling much of anything besides overwhelmed.

Her hand pushed the bakery door open with a tinkle and she slumped in, letting her backpack slide from her shoulders.

“Surprise!” a chorus yelled, making her jump, shriek, and throw her books everywhere. Her parents were flanked by Nino, Alya, Kagami, Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Ivan, Alix, Max, Kim, and Adrien. She smiled at all of them, taking an extra second to gaze into those vivid green eyes.

“What are you all doing here?” she gasped.

“We came to help you out,” Adrien responded for the group.

“Yeah,” Rose piped, “You are always helping us out, and your mom said you’ve been super busy, so here we are, ready to work!”

“You are all so sweet, but I really don’t have that much work to do—”

“Nice try,” Alix teased. “I’ll bet you my skates that there’s eight unfinished dresses upstairs on your sewing machine.”

“I’ll take that bet—I say nine,” Kim boomed, “and I’ll throw in my favorite pair of swim trunks that there’s forty dozen macarons she’s making for charity.”

Marinette smiled as her friends thumped upstairs to her bedroom, but she hung back a bit. Her mother slipped an arm around her waist. “Sweetheart, they really do care about you. They wanted to help. Put them to work?”

“Mom, I really don’t have that much going on right now, I swear,” Marinette promised. At least nothing anyone can help with, she thought.

“Well, then at least take some treats upstairs and have a game night or something,” Sabine insisted, pressing a tray of quiches into Marinette’s grasping hands. She sighed and followed her friends to the back of the bakery and up the stairs.

But after the first flight, she heard two familiar voices talking in hushed tones. “I fail to see how me being here helps anything,” Kagami was hissing. “She clearly doesn’t need me here, and it’s hardly a productive way to spend an evening.”

“She’s a friend, and friends do nice things for each other,” Adrien responded. Marinette slowed her pace so she would stay just behind the wall where they couldn’t see her.

“You said you wanted me to come so we could hang out. You just wanted me to come to be a workhorse for some other girl,” Kagami retorted with an edge of frustration in her voice.

“No, no, that’s not it at all. I wanted to see you because… well, I just wanted—”

“You know, Adrien, for being the one who keeps asking me out, you sure don’t seem to know what you want at all. I’ve made it perfectly clear what I want. Do you want to be with me or not?”

“Kagami, of course I want to—” Adrien started, and then he was silent. Marinette couldn’t help herself. She took a step forward, rounded the corner…

And wished she hadn’t. Adrien stood one step lower than Kagami. Her hand was wrapped around the back of his head, her lips pressed against his. A girl was kissing Adrien, here in her house, and it wasn’t Marinette. Even though she had practiced through tears and fought the raging beast inside her heart for weeks and reminded herself over and over again that Adrien loved Kagami, watching them kiss was torture. Her knees wobbled, her stomach sunk, and her heart leaped from her chest. She silently retreated around the corner, taking deep breaths and forcing the tears to stay put in her eyes. After a second, she steeled herself against the pain, plastered a smile to her face, and rounded the corner again, much louder this time. Adrien and Kagami separated with a little sucking noise. Marinette ignored them and marched straight upstairs with her tray of quiches.

She paused outside the trap door to her bedroom for several minutes, trying to lower her heartbeat. Finally, when she felt like she could adequately feign a cheerful mood, she pushed the trap door open and climbed into the crowded bedroom.

“Hey, guys, my mom sent up these quiches, but I’m afraid tonight’s not a good one for hanging out,” she said in a much-too-high voice. “It’s probably best that you all… head…” Her friends all stood there, with sad little furrows in their eyebrows, looking at her. Her bones ached again. “Out to the movies!” she finished with a generic thumbs-up. There was a shuffle and startup of several conversations at once. But just then, the dreaded buzz of the news alert on her phone pulled her to reality. Alya and Max also pulled out their phones—they’d set up the AkumaAlert app as well, it seemed.

“Oh no,” Rose gasped, looking over Alya’s shoulder. “Looks like some kind of foodie gone bad. Oh my, he just turned that kid into a bowl of salad!”

Marinette scanned around her room at the faces all checking their phones for updates. She was just starting to panic on how she would get out of this one with all her friends right there, when she locked eyes with Alya. “Oh, Marinette, your parents said that they needed you to watch the store front for a few minutes while they put together the rest of the food. We’ll figure out a movie and head when you get back, okay?”

Marinette thanked Alya with her eyes and ran downstairs and out the door to the alleyway. She didn’t even notice that Kagami was a block away by now, with her head sagging.

“I’ll take that bet—I say nine,” Kim boomed, “and I’ll throw in my favorite pair of swim trunks that there’s forty dozen macarons she’s making for charity.”

Adrien laughed and sighed in relief as he saw the smile wash over Marinette’s face. He turned and followed the rest of his friends upstairs. “This was a great idea,” he whispered to Alya.

She shook her head with a little smirk, “Yeah, it was, Adrien. Don’t try to give me any credit. You’re the one who said we should stage an intervention.”

He shrugged. At the landing for the next flight of stairs, he felt a hand on his wrist and stopped. Kagami’s head was low, her hair covering her eyes. “Adrien, we need to talk,” she said heavily.

Oh great. NOW she wants to talk. She hadn’t answered his calls for days, and he’d been hesitant to invite her to this intervention tonight, before remembering that she and Marinette were friends—and tonight was about Marinette, not about his comfort level. “Look, Kagami, I think you’re a really amazing girl…” Adrien stammered.

“Do you have feelings for Marinette?”

“Wh-What?”

“Do you have feelings for Marinette?”

“C’mon,” he scoffed, shaking his head a bit. “She’s struggling right now.” “Why did you ask me to come tonight? You know how my mother feels about these kinds of things.”

“I knew you were friends, and I thought you could help her.”

“I fail to see how me being here helps anything,” Kagami hissed, taking a step up so she was a head taller than him. It felt uncomfortably familiar, like when his father sneered at him down his nose. “She clearly doesn’t need me here, and it’s hardly a productive way to spend an evening.”

“She’s a friend, and friends do nice things for each other,” Adrien responded, raising his voice slightly.

“You said you wanted me to come so we could hang out. You just wanted me to come to be a workhorse for some other girl.” Kagami’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

“No, no, that’s not it at all. I wanted to see you because… well, I just wanted—” he wasn’t sure where he was going with this. All he knew was that he wanted out, away from this conversation.

“You know, Adrien, for being the one who keeps asking me out, you sure don’t seem to know what you want at all. I’ve made it perfectly clear what I want. Do you want to be with me or not?”

“Kagami, of course I want to—” Several things happened in rapid succession. First, his phone buzzed, and Plagg tugged on the inside of his shirt—his sign that he really needed to take this call. As he reached for his phone in his pocket, though, Kagami grabbed the back of his head and leaned in. He was so surprised by the sudden motion that his brain stopped working. She pressed her lips to his. He noticed what her eyelashes looked like, what the color of her forehead was up close, even the scent of her hair. The only thing he didn’t register was what it felt like to kiss her. A small but persistent noise behind them startled him and he pulled back. He turned just in time to see a tense-shouldered Marinette push past the two of them on the stairs with a fake, saccharine smile pasted to her face. So, she’d seen that, had she? His heart plummeted and he felt nauseous. That was not how he planned on tonight going. “Marinette!” He called softly, gently moving Kagami aside to follow the bouncing pigtails upstairs, but Kagami pressed a hand into his chest and glared.

“No, no you don’t, Adrien.” Plagg tugged at the inside of his shirt more fervently now, and Adrien instinctively pulled out his phone.

Lila had posted a picture of a romantic table for two on the front steps of a restaurant he didn’t recognize with the caption: Waiting for my bf—@ParisTeenWeekly superstar. #LuckiestGirlEver The post had already gone viral, and by the looks of it, had drummed up quite the media presence.

“Lila…” he murmured under his breath.

“Lila? First Marinette, now Lila? How many girls are you stringing along, Adrien?” Kagami snapped.

“What? No, Kagami! You’ve got it all wrong! Lila asked me to dinner tonight—”

“A dinner with her, a date with me, an intervention here… you do know this is cruel, don’t you? I told you to pick a target. Maybe I wasn’t clear. Pick a target and then don’t switch.” And in a move that was becoming increasingly familiar, she pushed past him, dropped her shoulders and head, and marched away.

“Kagami,” he called, chasing after her. “Please don’t do this again. I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt a friend.”

She wheeled around on him. “A friend? I kiss you and you call me a friend?”

“Isn’t that what a good relationship should be based on? Friendship?”

She glared. “We have so much—no, everything in common. We are perfect for each other. You will never find someone more compatible with you than me.”

So there it was. Yet another girl who felt entitled to him, like he was some kind of prize. “Kagami, I’m a heck of a lot more than just trophies and report cards,” he growled.

She breathed deeply, clearly at a loss for words. Her mouth moved up and down a bit before she spun on her heel and marched off again. He didn’t follow her this time, but stood there in the doorway of the Dupain Bakery and watched as she shrunk into the distance.

His phone buzzed again. AkumaAlert, at the same little bistro Lila had posted about online. Oh goodie, he groaned to himself. Still, he looked forward to punching something. “Plagg, Claws Out!”

Ladybug was nowhere to be found when he arrived on the scene. “Adrien Agreste, I am Fooderator! I’ll teach you to miss your dinner reservations!” the akuma was yelling. He was shooting lasers out of his hands, which turned panicked Parisians into various bits of food.

“Hey Fooderator,” Chat Noir called, “hungry for this?” He extended his baton and spun it in a flash of metal, dissipating several blasts. He used his baton as a shield while he scanned the area. It was worse than he feared from Lila’s post; it looked like half the paparazzi in Paris had come to glimpse Adrien Agreste with a girlfriend. It made his blood boil. He charged Fooderator, landing several punches and a round-house kick. Fooderator responded with a punch to his stomach and two more blows aimed for Chat Noir’s head, which he dodged easily.

Just then the familiar zip of a yo-yo string made them both look up. Chat Noir’s heart leapt to his throat. She did a graceful backflip over his head, tucked into a swan dive, caught by her string at the last second, and dropped in a three-point landing. “So, Chat Noir, what’s eating this guy?” she said, straightening up and walking toward him.

He grinned. How he loved it when she made puns with him. They took a few steps back and yo-yo and baton alike whizzed as shields while they shared knowledge. “I think he was looking forward to some major publicity. Apparently some girl promised him that Adrien Agreste would come tonight—as her boyfriend.”

Ladybug’s eyes narrowed and she bared her teeth. “Adrien Agreste was bringing his girlfriend here?”

“No,” Chat Noir laughed, “the girl just made it out to look like that.” Chat was surprised at the way Ladybug’s face lit up when he said the word ‘no.’

“Good,” she said, a smile teasing her lips. “Though poor Fooderator; that would have been the moment of a lifetime, to have Adrien come to your restaurant.” Oh man, Chat’s heart couldn’t stop leaping. She was cracking jokes and saying his name, in one night. “Any idea where the akuma might be?”

“Maybe his chef hat?” Chat Noir responded, noticing the tall black hat on Fooderator’s head. They nodded once at each other, and then launched their attack. Chat Noir raced to Fooderator head-on and Ladybug swung up and over his head before attacking from the rear. They landed blow after blow. They were making serious headway, and Chat started to think they might be able to get this one without needing their powers, when a bunch of flashes startled him from behind.

“Chat Noir!” a sickly sweet voice called to him, “Smile for the camera!”

“Lila!” Ladybug hissed, “This is not the right time!” But the momentary distraction was enough for Fooderator to get the upper hand on Ladybug and fired a laser right at her.

“No!” Chat yelled and threw himself in front of Ladybug. The laser caught him in the stomach and he felt the energy drain from him. Ladybug watched in horror as her dear partner transformed into a bowl of mussels, his baton still spinning in the air and transforming into a loaf of crusty bread, then falling with a little splash into the broth.

“You’ll pay for this,” Ladybug growled—not at Fooderator, but at Lila. “Lucky Charm.” It wasn’t a happy spin of her yo-yo; it was a warcry. A pellet gun dropped in her hands, and with eyes still locked on Lila, she shot a round over her shoulder. It caught the chef hat on Fooderator’s head and ripped it down the center. The tiny akuma wriggled out. Ladybug didn’t say a word, she just threw her yo-yo at it and released the white butterfly while marching straight at Lila, who was looking downright petrified. Ladybug growled “Miraculous Ladybug” and threw the pellet gun over her shoulder, not even caring to see the completion of the battle. She thrust a finger in Lila’s face. “How dare you distract my partner or me while we’re battling an akuma. How dare you put all of Paris at greater risk.” If Ladybug was aware of the hundreds of cameras snapping pictures of this moment, she didn’t show it. “We’re trying to protect millions of people, and you have the gall to take advantage of the moment for a selfie with Chat Noir? Don’t you know how important he is to Paris? Without him, none of us would be here. Don’t you know how important he is to me?”

Lila stammered, “I… I… just wanted to…”

“Just don’t, ok Lila?”

A sick smile stole over her face. “I’m sorry, Ladybug, it’s just that I was so excited to see you both in action, I couldn’t help it. You’re the best ever,” she sneered.

“Just think about it more carefully next time, alright?” Ladybug warned, trying to soften her face and hide the loathing. Lila nodded and skipped off, giving the paparazzi a wink as she left.

Ladybug turned around to see Chat Noir and the dazed chef staring at her with slack jaws. She tried to smile at them.

“Whoa…” Chat sighed. “That was… that was…”

“Chef!” she said to the poor akuma victim. Her earrings beeped. “I’m sorry you didn’t get your big moment in the spotlight. I think the girl who said she was Adrien’s girlfriend was a bit confused.” Her earrings beeped again. “Chat, can you help him out tonight?” Chat Noir nodded and they pounded fists. “Bug out!” she cried before soaring off into the night.

The chef looked confused, but happy. Chat Noir thought his heart might leap right out of his suit. How important he is to me… And he fell again. He couldn’t help it. No matter how hard he tried to move past it, one small sentence, one small look, one tiny touch from her and he was right back to where he was the moment he met her. But it felt better this time—more like a partnership, more like a friend, more two-sided.

“It’s too bad she couldn’t stay for dinner,” the chef murmured. “I’ve got such a lovely meal prepared, since I was planning on feeding Adrien Agreste tonight.”

A sudden idea popped into Chat Noir’s head. “Would you be willing to take in a stray cat instead?”

The chef’s face broke into a huge grin. “Chat Noir? Eating at my restaurant? That’s even better than Adrien Agreste!”

“Great. I’ve got something I need to do first, though, but I promise I’ll be right back, ok?”

The chef nodded, then raced back to his kitchen to make a few final arrangements.

Marinette made a show of stumping upstairs to her friends. They were huddled around her room, eyes glued to their phones. “Marinette!” Alya cried as she entered. Everyone looked up. “Did you see that akuma attack?”

“Yeah, crazy!” she responded.

“I can’t believe Lila would distract Ladybug and Chat Noir like that,” Max said, with a shake of his head.

“Yeah, really not cool,” Ivan agreed.

Marinette’s heart swelled to hear her friends recognize Lila’s manipulative and dangerous behavior. Nino continued, “Yeah, good thing Ladybug was still able to capture the akuma. She really is the greatest protector of all time.”

The achy bones returned full force.

“Hey guys, if we want to make the evening show, we’d better go now,” Juleka said quietly. Everyone looked up expectantly at Marinette, who sat gingerly on her bed. How she hated always having to make the decisions.

“I’m kind of tired, and you guys can go without me,” she started. Alya gave an I-told-you-so look to everyone in the room. “Come on, Marinette,” Mylene crooned, “let’s go have some fun.”

But Marinette still couldn’t shake the feeling of weight on her shoulders. She looked in the faces of her friends—grateful for each of them, but envious of their innocence. None of them would truly understand, or could ever understand. There was only one person in all of Paris who knew just how heavy this life was, and he was nowhere to be—

There was a knock on the balcony skylight. It made Rose squeak with surprise. Everyone looked up at the ceiling. Ivan was closest—he opened the latch and a pair of smiling green eyes, shrouded in a black mask, descended into the room, upside down. “Hey guys, how’s it hanging?”

“Ch…ch… CHAT NOIR?” Kim stammered. “What are you doing here?”

He lowered himself into the room with one arm and landed softly on all fours. He smiled around at the gawking faces. “I got reservations at an amazing little bistro, and was wondering if I might steal my Purrincess away for an evening,” he said, strutting toward Marinette. “If you’d like, of course.”

She blushed as he took her hand and kissed it lightly. “Oh you silly cat,” she said. A brilliant peal of laughter escaped from her throat—something only he could elicit.

Alya gave her a little shove. “Go, Marinette, you deserve it.”

Marinette didn’t resist. She gave Chat Noir her hand, but he took her waist. Her friends watched in shock as Chat Noir walked to the skylight, lifted Marinette off her feet in a bridal-style carry, extended his baton, and launched the two of them into the fading evening sky.

#miraculous ladybug #lovesquare #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #guardian marinette #action #stupid lila #akuma

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uzumaki-rebellion · 5 years ago

Text

“Stark’s New Intern” Chp. 7

Summary: Erik receives a clue from his past...

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"Leave me breadcrumbs for the ride To guide me back Leave me breadcrumbs for the ride To guide me back Leave me breadcrumbs for the ride To guide me back Leave me breadcrumbs for the ride To guide me, guide me back…"

Jamila Woods (Feat. Nico Segal) —"Breadcrumbs"

Devika pulled in front of Erik's apartment unit and Maria was already standing by the curb waiting for him.

"Thanks for the ride," Erik said.

Devika nodded and Erik was surprised to see Giselle walk down their apartment steps to meet him too. Her eyes glanced at Devika in the BMW.

"See you tomorrow, Erik," Devika said.

She drove away and Erik faced Maria and Giselle.

"Where have you been?" Maria asked.

"Stark had me at his—"

Maria's arms were thrown around his waist before he could finish speaking.

"I thought you were gone for good until I saw your luggage," she whispered into his chest.

"It's all good. Stark had me work in another lab and then he took me to his house."

"For what?" Giselle asked.

Erik hoped she would hug him too, but she stood next to Maria with concern in her eyes. She was worried about him too.

"He had a party and I followed him around. That's it."

"He doesn't have a house. He has a mansion that is out of this world. I saw pictures of it in Architectural Design," Maria said.

"So you're not leaving the internship?" Giselle asked.

"Nah."

She let out an audible sigh and he followed them both back into the apartment.

"Who brought you home?" Maria said.

"Stark's secretary."

Erik looked at Giselle.

"Why are you over here so late?"

"Maria called me."

Maria showed him her cell.

"I received this email from our Project Manager. It says I have to meet in a different department tomorrow morning—"

Maria's face looked stressed out and beyond worry. Erik removed his bowtie and pulled off his tuxedo jacket. Both women ogled his clothes.

"Don't trip. You and Valentina are moving to a new department with me."

"Why? I thought…I thought they liked my work—"

"They do, but Stark let me move to a place that wanted me and he asked me to name two people from my team to go with me. I chose you. And Valentina."

"You chose me?"

Maria's face lit up and she hugged him again.

"Lemme change real quick," Erik said prying her fingers from around him again.

His luggage was on his bed and he quickly slipped into shorts and a t-shirt.

"I gotta warn you Maria, where you're going is pretty intense. The boss of that lab ain't no joke."

"I can handle it," Maria said.

"I know you can," he said.

"I'm going to bed so I can be ready. I can finally go to sleep. Night Giselle!"

Maria scurried into her room, her spirits lifted, and Erik let his eyes rest on Giselle. She looked shy almost, her eyes breaking away from his stare.

"Guess I'll head home," she said.

"You don't have to leave."

"It's really late. I'm glad things worked out."

"Me too."

He walked over to her, stepped close enough so that his face was near hers. Her energy was pleasant, but she wasn't welcoming in the way he wanted. Professional. Bet.

"Night then," he said heading to the front door and opening it for her.

Giselle patted his shoulder and left.

###

Valentina and Maria brought their A-game.

Erik was in the middle of trying to interface two software programs that had maddening glitches that stumped him all morning when Janine pulled him aside.

"You gave me some sharp picks, Stevens," Janine said munching on baby carrots.

"Yeah?"

"Valentina and Maria fit right in. You have a good eye for talent. Tell me something…what do you want to gain from this internship?"

Erik rolled back his standing chair and faced Janine as she snacked in front of him.

"Practical real-world experience with coding applications—"

"No, your endgame. Don't give me the resume speech. What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Erik smiled.

This always happened.

His work ethic, extreme focus, and interests in multiple fields always brought the curious his way. His being Black never let him blend into the background with white people like the Asian staff. Being the small five percent of Black faces in Stark's offices never allowed anonymity. And when one was as good as Erik, that subconscious threat always reared its ugly head: Who is this uppity negro blowing up the spot? Janine wasn't even aware of how she was sounding to him. They never were. It showed up as curiosity, but the goal was to assess where they stood compared to him. Was he coming for their spot? Janine really had nothing to worry about, but after two weeks of him helping that department make progress in such a short span of time, she needed to know if Erik was aiming to become permanent.

"I'm joining the Navy. I want to be an officer."

Janine bit into a carrot and nodded.

"A Navy career. No interest in working for us at all?"

He shook his head.

"Been wanting to be in the Navy since I was little. It's why I went to the Naval Academy."

"Our loss," she said walking away.

Erik rolled back to the computer viewscreen. Janine was glad he wasn't trying to stay there. And she would use his brain up all she could before he left.

"Erik, can I see you for a minute?"

Valentina's face popped up on the viewscreen in a smaller chat screen. Erik closed down his work station and padded over to another station.

Valentina lounged in a beanie bag with her keyboard on her lap and her floating screen hanging above her.

"'Sup," Erik said.

"Does this look right?"

Erik enlarged the string of code near his face.

"What are you trying to do?" he said.

"Bypass all this junk code. There's got to be a better way to streamline all of this. We're on deadline and Janine wants a working simulation by Friday. This is going to take longer than Friday."

"You tell her that?" Erik asked swiping images, searching for problematic links.

"I'd like to keep my head on my shoulders."

"Want me to talk to her?"

"No. If you do that, then she might question why I'm here. Can you look this over later? Maybe you can catch something I'm missing. I'm getting a migraine over it."

"Let's go to lunch."

"Outside of the cafeteria?"

"Yeah."

Valentina powered down her computer and grabbed her purse. They walked through the hallway and found an express elevator they could crowd on. Once they made it to the lobby, Valentina gave out a loud sigh.

"How can you deal with Janine? She makes me feel like I'm not pulling my weight," she said.

"She giving you grief?"

"She doesn't say anything, just gives you those looks with those creepy eyes of hers. It's like playing poker and she has that neutral poker face, but with shades on. And a ten-gallon cowboy hat. And six-shooters on her hip waiting to take you down."

"She ain't that bad."

"I enjoy the work that I do, so don't think I don't appreciate your name dropping me, but sheesh…every time she comes to my station, I feel like I'm under a guillotine."

A bit of a ruckus stirred up near the entrance as Tony breezed in followed by reporters. Security surrounded the paps as Tony pulled off his shades. His head security officer, a big dude he heard Tony calling Happy, posted up next to him with his hands folded in front of him but his green ear bud glowing as he whispered instructions discreetly to the rest of his staff.

Tony held his hands out to the paps.

"There is no connection between my deal with the Afghan government and the SICA rebels. I am a businessman who works with many countries and I don't deal in politics—"

"But your weapons systems give certain groups advantages that our government has questioned because of anti-democratic behavior and human rights abuses—"

"And our government does business with plenty of countries with anti-democratic behavior and human rights abuses…China anyone?"

"Tony-!"

"Mr. Stark-!"

Tony turned away from the paps and Happy herded them out of the lobby with security in tow.

"Stevens, Berlotti…"

Tony's eyes swept over them.

"We're heading out for lunch," Erik said.

Valentina stood next to Erik a bit starry-eyed.

"Where to?" Tony asked looking at his platinum watch.

"The taco spot—"

"Cool, let's go," Tony said.

They followed Tony to a side exit.

"You not worried about reporters following you out here?"

"Happy has that under control," Tony said.

Alberto's Tacos was a small vendor cart that Erik found to his liking. The carne asada street tacos were flavorful and cheap and washed down with a cold Coke, it was heaven. The three of them sat on a bench not too far from the Stark building. White-collar workers streamed past them and no one took notice of Tony scarfing down greasy meat with his fingers.

"This is really good. Had no idea this stand was here all these years," Tony said licking his fingers.

Erik gulped down his Coke and Valentina kept quiet as she listened to Erik shoot the shit with Tony. He couldn't understand why she didn't ask the questions she was burning to ask him that she was always pestering Erik about during their lunch breaks. Tony took notice.

"You're really quiet Valentina," Tony said, his eyes taking her in.

"I'm just soaking it all in, Mr. Stark," she said, her eyes darting over to Erik.

"Things working well for you in your new set-up?"

"Yes—"

"Janine makes her nervous," Erik said.

Valentina nearly choked on her Sprite as she pulled the can from her lips.

Tony chuckled.

"You alright there, Berlotti?"

"Yes…yes, Sir. Went down the wrong pipe," she said wiping her lips.

"Janine is a tight ass, but don't let her chilly façade scare you. Are you worried about something?"

Erik gave Valentina a look for her to open her mouth and speak on her concerns openly. Her perfect bow lips quirked and then she put her soda can down. Erik nodded his head slightly at her.

"I'm worried about an assignment I have due on Friday. I won't be able to finish it because I need more time to work out the kinks because there are so many of them. There is no feasible way to have a working simulation up and running by then. There are four of us working on it and I'm the lead, but I can't…I can't fix it under this rigid time limit."

She pushed her hair back behind her ears. Her face looked ashamed. She sipped her soda again and Erik felt all of her confidence drain out into the ether.

"What do expect to happen on Friday?" Tony asked.

"Failure. I asked Erik to take a look at the work—"

"What about your immediate team?

"They are working on it—"

"Why aren't you with them now?"

Tony's eyes were bright and firm looking. He wasn't here for excuses.

"I have to eat."

"Working lunches are a thing Berlotti. You are the team leader. You wrangle your people and you figure the problem out. Why are you asking Stevens to look at your work? He has his own deadlines and team to worry about. You want him to take on your workload too? Alvarez has the same deadline and you know where she is right now? At her desk grinding. Janine said jump, Alvarez asked how high."

Valentina crushed her soda can and tossed it in a trash receptacle. She stood up and stared at Tony.

"I better get back to work," she said. The click-clack of her heels echoed as she left them.

"That was cold," Erik said.

"Cold? How?"

"She was confiding in you."

"That's what you're for. Not me. I expect results. Janine answers to me. So who do you think needs those codes running on Friday? Me."

"Did you have to throw Maria in her face like that though?"

"Maria works her ass off—"

"Valentina does too. She just hit a snag."

"And she will unravel the snag."

Erik finished his taco and Tony made a quick call.

"Let's get back to work," Tony said.

Erik followed him back to the offices and when they separated, he texted Valentina.

You okay?

He thinks I'm shit.

No he doesn't. Just high expectations.

Did he talk bad about me when I left?

Said you'd figure out the problem. Want me to look at the codes tonight?

No. I'll figure it out.

I know you will. Badass.

She sent him a happy face emoji.

"Erik Stevens?"

A guard at the information desk stopped him from going to the elevators.

"Yeah."

The guard reached down behind the desk and handed Erik a FedEx package.

"This came for you twenty minutes ago."

"Thanks," Erik said.

He walked over to a lobby couch and sat down. The return address was from his Uncle Bakari in D.C. Erik quickly opened the package. A folded note was taped to a small black notepad.

"JaJa,

Hope this finds you well. We found this in some of your mother's belongings when we cleaned out our attic for some installation issues we were having. Don't know how we missed it. Looks like it belonged to your father. We didn't want to throw it out. Not much written in it, but we wanted you to have it.

We are proud of you and look forward to seeing you at the end of August.

Love and Hugs,

Uncle Bakari & Aunt Shavonne"

Erik quickly pulled out the small black notepad. He flipped through the pages that had his father's distinct script written in it. All in Wakandan.

His eyes darted around where he sat. No one was paying attention to him. He jumped up and walked briskly to the nearest restroom.

Locking himself in a stall, Erik pulled down the toilet seat cover and sat down. He opened the notepad again and flipped to the first page. His fingers touched the paper gingerly, and he saw his fingers shake. His tongue touched his top lip and he felt the sting of tears prick the corners of his eyes.

"Baba," he whispered.

Wiping his eyes, he tried to gather himself together. The writing was neat, legible, and concise. Erik's brain shifted its language mode. Memories flooded his mind.

Sitting in his room back in Oakland tracing letters.

Wakandan letters.

Baba singing to him in his language, telling him stories about his homeland. Copying Baba's habit of writing in journals.

Stringing symbols to make sentences that looked otherworldly.

Think.

Remember.

Translate.

These were numbers. Cardinal directions.

Coordinates. GPS coordinates.

His father had made a handwritten map. For himself or someone else?

The numbers came to him quickly, but it took several minutes to accurately make out the rest.

Three places.

There was something buried in three different locations.

One of the places wasn't that far away. Joshua Tree. A little over three hours away.

Erik stepped out of the restroom stall and washed his hands. He stuffed the notepad in his shirt pocket right over his heart.

He wiped his face with a paper towel, and when two interns walked in chattering away, Erik slipped out and onto an elevator.

Baba left him a treasure map.

He just needed to figure out a way to go find what was buried in all three places.

###

Part 8

Tag List:

@fd-writes @soufcakmistress @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon @thadelightfulone @allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky @raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514 @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling @chaneajoyyy @sweetestdream92 @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @hennessystevens-udaku @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry @honeytoffee @meilintheempressofdreams

#stark's new intern #killmonger #erik stevens #n'jadaka #tony stark #black panther fanfiction #killmonger fanfiction

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gotboredwrote · 5 years ago

Text

His Personal Constellation // BHM

Pairing: Brian May x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.3K Style: One-Shot Warnings: Serious injury, amnesia, fluff Summary: While working as a roadie during a tour, Y/N gets injured doing something extraordinary to Brian, leading to a discussion and bond over a mutual interest. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: First, this is the first Brian fic I’ve ever written, so go easy on me, Queen side of tumblr (I’m a Deaky babe at heart). Second, I know nothing about astronomy or the medical field, so again, go easy on me science side of tumblr. Third, let’s pretend that Bri already had his PhD at his point, shall we?

Masterlist

Prepping for a show in a country and season where the dark takes over around five in the evening has one advantage and one advantage only. Seeing the night sky in all its grandeur, each and every ball of gas twinkling in its own unique way creating a stunning collection for the eyes to gaze upon. While the vastness of space is intimidating to say the least, there is also something soothing and beautiful about it. Very few people were already out working on the stage, considering showtime was not for another three hours, so you took advantage of the quietness and stillness to climb what appeared to be a stable scaffolding that came maybe about fifteen feet off the ground. Heights never bothered you. The closer you could get to that rich, deep blackness in the sky, the better. The platform of the scaffolding was just long and wide enough for you to lay down. You would be closer to space if you stood, but you felt like you could appreciate the sight before you more by laying down, not focused on keeping yourself upright. You managed to lay yourself down and find a comfortable position for about two minutes. All was calm, despite a few more voices roaming about the stage. Then you heard it.

clack.

You remembered nothing. Absolutely nothing. The doctors were surprised you even remembered your name before you passed back out. When you awoke for the second time, you still had no idea what day it was, what city you were in, and all you could feel was a sharp pain radiating through your body. Especially your right leg. God, what happened to your right leg? What happened to you? Prying your eyes open, the sounds of the extremely white room you were in started making their way past your ears to become recognized by your brain. You heard a steady beeping, a couple people chattering, and the rain hitting the window to your right lightly. You made no movement with your body, just your eyes, so no one knew you were awake yet. Had you been asleep long? What happened? You had so many questions and you felt like you had no energy to do anything about it. You took a slow, deep breath in to try and ground yourself further, and by the time you exhaled all the air, you realized there was a hand on your knee, your left knee. You put every fiber of your being into moving that kneecap ever so slightly to get the attention of the person who was there. A face you could not see from where your head laid. You managed to move your knee maybe a distance of three inches, but it was enough. Soon, you heard a swarm of voices and footsteps approach you, and you forced your neck to crane around slightly to see who all was in the room. You could see doctors and nurses – white lab coats and scrubs giving them away. Then you saw a few crew members you recognized from your job, but you could not remember their names nor what their jobs were. You could not even really remember your job at the moment. Then you saw a cluster of three guys that were just a little bit more recognizable than the crew workers, but again had trouble remembering names. One had a dark, bushy mustache, one had shaggy blonde hair, and the third had a frizzy poof adorning his cranium. Clearly recognizable appearances, so why could you not remember their names? Then the face attached to the hand that was on your knee made its way into your field of view. Again, you recognized it. Then one of the doctor’s spoke up.

“Y/N? Are you with us again?”

All you could manage was a nod, even trying to smile hurt too much.

“Wonderful. I hate to rush right into things, but there are some new faces in the room and I need to know if any of their names come to mind. I’m going to point to each one and you can say their name or say you don’t remember it. But do tell if you at least recognize the face.”

The doctor started at the opposite side of the bed from where the hand on your knee came from. He first pointed to the shaggy-haired blonde. You shook your head, but squeaked out a short fragment of a sentence that told the doctor you know the face. The face dropped slightly, feeling sad that you did not remember his name, but at least recognized him. The same exact process happened with the mustached man, the frizzy poof man, and the people you recognized as crew members for something. You expressed to the doctor that you remembered that part, but not what they do or who they work for, and that you could not remember your job, either. Then the doctor’s hand went to the body on your left. The one with its hand on your knee. You had barely made eye contact with the full-volume dark curls when you quietly yet triumphantly said his name.

“Brian.”

His eyes shone brighter than the sun hearing his name come from your mouth. Despite feeling disappointed that you did not remember their names, everyone around beamed at you, proud that you were not completely amnesia ridden. You swore you even saw Brian flush with color, realizing that he had gone pretty pale waiting to see if you would remember his name. First a pale white, and now red as could be.

“I remember Brian. He… plays an instrument. Guitar. Built his own.”

“Bloody hell, why does Bri get all the attention from ‘er?”

“Relax, Roger.” Freddie placed an arm on Roger’s shoulder while Deaky spoke to him.

The doctor spoke up again, clearly bemused by the antics shared between the bandmates and overflowing with joy and relief at the fact you remembered something more than your name.

“Alright, well, I have good news, but I need to talk to the four of you,” motioning to the band, “in private, seeing that you guys are her bosses and she fell on the job.” He then motioned for the four of them to follow him into the hallway and the nurses informed the crew that they could leave if they wanted while they checked on your vitals. Once everyone but the nurses were out of the room, you felt a single tear roll down your cheek, fully aware that you had gotten into some kind of accident and that something was clearly wrong with your brain. Through a choking sob, you managed to ask the nurses who flocked over you a question.

“Could someone please tell me what happened?”

“As you are probably aware by now, Y/N was on a scaffolding that collapsed under her and pieces of it managed to fall onto her by the time she collided with the ground. Nothing metal hit her head, but the impact of the fall caused quite a jolt to run though her entire body, her brain being no exception. That is what is causing the amnesia. On top of all of that, one of the heavier pieces of metal managed to crush her right kneecap, which we replaced. She will be able to be discharged today, but she will need to be in a wheelchair for a week, and then we have a full leg brace that she can walk on slowly after that for about eight more weeks. Basically, the duration of the tour, if I understand correctly. I’m not so much worried about her leg healing properly, considering she could push herself around on the wheelchair, if necessary. However, my concern is the amnesia. I’m not as worried as I would be if she could not remember anything. But she did recognize all your faces, knew that some people had the label of “crew member,” and she clearly remembers Mr. May, here. So, I’m sure with some reintroducing, everything will come flooding back in due time. My request of you guys is to just keep an eye on her. From the conversations I have overheard, she seems like the kind of girl who can fend for herself, but regardless of what she says, she needs at least one person by her side for a while. Just until things are back to normal. Did you catch all of that?”

The members of Queen all silently nodded their heads in the direction of the doctor. Each of them knew they would be helping her, but none of them minded. Especially Brian. For some reason, he felt that he had an obligation to help her more than anyone else considering what she was doing when the fall occurred. That is his specialty. This would be his chance to get close to the girl whom he would like to call his. Once the small, one-sided conversation between Queen and the doctor concluded, they made their way back into the hospital room to see that you were already in your wheelchair with the brace on your leg, dressed and ready to go. The nurses told you everything that the doctor told the boys, and now that you all were on the same page, Brian stepped up to push you through the hospital to the van door.

“I got you, love, no need to exert yourself more than you already have.”

After a smug look was exchanged between the boys and Brian, you were rolling your way through the hospital, ready to get back to… whatever it was you did for a living. Eventually, the van you were riding in pulled into its destination, which to you looked like a massive arena. This could not possibly be related to what your job was, right? Why would someone like you work in a place like this? The van parked, and Brian scrambled around to your side of the van to help you into your wheelchair. He might be lanky, but the boy is strong. He was pushing you into the wide empty floor of the arena where the janitors were already cleaning up when he spooked you with a question.

“Anything here look familiar, love?”

“Not really. I can’t even imagine what it would be that I do for a living in a place like this. I’m no security guard.”

Brian chuckled behind you, so quietly you never even heard him. He wanted to just tell you everything, now that he had an excuse to really talk to you, but the voice of your doctor rang in the back of his mind. He was not supposed to tell you things, he was just supposed to show you things and hope it jogs your memory. You cannot relearn the things you knew. If they do not come back on their own, there is no hope for getting them back. Brian noticed something about the stage – it had not been put away yet. When the fall happened, everyone rushed to the hospital, and they all wanted to stay while you were operated on, but their management insisted that they go back and do the show and come back once you were awake. The stage was just as they had left it, and Brian got an idea.

“Would you feel comfortable if I left you alone for a second and hopped up on stage to grab something?”

You shook your head at him, practically expressionless, and he slowly turned away from you to hop up onto the stage, long legs making him look like a frog jumping. You saw him grab a guitar. The guitar you mentioned when you were still in your hospital bed. He also grabbed a stool and made his way back down to you. About forty feet from the edge of the stage. He plopped the stool down directly in front of you and plopped himself right down on top of it. Then he started to play. And you remembered. Well, you at least remembered why you were at this arena, what your job was. Nothing else really came back, like the name of the band, the names of his bandmates, anything like that. But hearing Brian play helped you remember something. And that was all he needed to do for you. He was there to be a walking memory. As he played, he made eye contact with you to try and see the little stars in your eyes he always looked at. They were there when you were happy, and that was all he wanted to make you feel in this moment. He could tell you were feeling defeated about the whole situation and he just wanted to see your eyes light up. Little did he know that you would make him feel the way he wanted to make you feel.

“You Take My Breath Away.”

“You… remembered.”

“I… I guess I did. I also know that that is the guitar you made. The one I remembered.”

“…”

“But I still can’t remember the name of your band.”

At this point, you and Brian were laughing so hard it was a wonder neither of you had started crying. He had stopped playing, and the light started to leave your eyes again. Brian could see it, and he started to think he did something wrong.

“What happened? Are you feeling okay?”

“Please keep playing.”

“Wh…what?”

“Play for me. It helps. My memory and my mood. Please keep playing.”

Brian continued to strum and sing quietly for you, testing your knowledge on the band whose name you could not remember.

A week had gone by, and slowly but surely, you were starting to remember things. You watched a show, and before it all started you gleefully shouted “QUEEN!” at the boys, signaling that you remembered their name. Then you went one by one and pointed at them, exclaiming their names, making them beam with pride. Other things you remembered were your job, your birthday, and some of the interests you had. The one that you really could not forget was your love of all things space. It was what got you into this mess in the first place. Something you had not remembered, though, was that Brian, the bandmate who had been by your side this entire past week, had a degree in astrophysics. Meaning he knew space stuff. Brian made no effort to tell you that, because he was afraid it would trigger something in your brain and that you would forget him. He voiced that fear to his bandmates and they all called him dramatic. He did not feel that his fear was over the top, but it was three to one, so he lost by default. On the first day you could walk on your leg, everyone doted on you, making sure you did not fall. You felt fine, but really only accepted help from Brian. You had come to trust him more than anyone else after all he had put up with this week. He had seen sides of you that no one had really ever seen, especially in vulnerable moments. At hotels, you two shared a room because you needed help in the bathroom and getting changed and whatnot. At least, that is what Brian told himself to keep himself from admitting the obvious. But now that you could be own your own, he felt like there was not much he still needed to do for you, which made him feel slightly depressed. He wanted to help you all the time, and he meant all the time. Not just when you were hurt. He wanted this companionship you had formed to be a lifelong one, filled with more than just the occasional shy look exchanged between the two of you. He wanted more. He wanted you. The bus had pulled into the hotel where the boys would be staying that night, and you shocked everyone by what you said to the check-in lady.

“Make that one less room, put Brian May and myself together, please.”

Brian gaped at you, completely red in the face, while his three bandmates snickered behind him, knowing how he felt about you and how oblivious you seemed to be about the whole thing.

“Love, my room is for one person.”

“You have a queen bed, we can fit, silly.” Then you saw the look on his face. “Unless you… don’t want to share your room with me.”

“Room 445, May and Y/L/M. It has a nice ring to it. Who am I to say no to that?”

You all made your ways to your respective rooms. Once you and Brian were settled in for what you thought would be a relaxing night flipping through television stations, he proposed an idea. Something to jog the last parts of your memory that had not come back yet.

“Would you be opposed to coming outside with me for a few moments, my dear? There is something I want to show you.”

“As long as I can borrow that sweatshirt you’re wearing, I have no complains, Bri.”

You flashed him a warm smile, still completely oblivious to how much you had him wrapped around his finger. He would do anything you asked him to do, no questions asked in any situation. He tossed you the sweatshirt he was wearing. The two of you quietly started to make your way to the back entrance of the hotel, and you found yourself being helped by Brian up this small hill at the back of the property with nothing on it but a lonesome bench. How Brian knew it was there was beyond you, but you did not find yourself questioning it, either. He helped you up the hill carefully, so as not to cross a boundary but make it as easy for you as possible. Once you made it up the hill, with a few stumbles along the way and grabbing of hands and torsos, you sat down side by side in a comfortable silence. You heard Brian sigh lightly next to you, and you turned your head and body to face him.

“What’s troubling you, big guy?”

“Nothing. I just want to talk to you about space.”

He said that as a precursor. A warning. He wanted to gauge your reaction to see if you leaned into his words or scooted away from them. He did not catch a grimace, or see your body tense in anyway, so he milked the moment. He wrapped an arm loosely around your shoulders and lightly squeezed as if he wanted to capture you in his embrace. You gladly moved yourself so your side was flush against his. Except Brian felt even more confident, knowing that you were not shying away from him. He had no reason to believe you were feeling for him the way he felt for you, but he wanted to take this moment by the horns, since he was not certain he would get to do this again. He reached down with his free arm, hooked your legs in it, and he swung them over so your body was facing perpendicular to his with your bum seated against the side of his legs and your legs laid across his lap. You turned lightly so you could still face partially the same direction he was facing, and pressed your side into his once again. Then he began to talk in that calming voice of his.

“Let’s see who we’ve got to work with tonight…” Brian started rambling off the constellations he could clearly see and tried to get you to see them yourself. He loved the look on your face – despite feeling frustrated with yourself that you could not see them, he thought your scrunched-up nose was adorable. He could tell you were genuinely interested in all the space stuff he talked about, unlike past girls he found himself enamored with. He continued to talk and you even asked him a few questions you had wanted to know the answers to, things about black holes, supernovas, comets, and the like. Brian practically felt like he was up amongst the stars seated next to you talking about all of this stuff. To him, you shone like brighter than all of them combined with the sun, and even if he was too shy to do anything about it, just being able to spend time with you was what he wanted. Eventually though, he took a break from his rambling ask you a personal question.

“Do you quite understand why I asked you to come out here with me so I could talk about space?”

“Do I have to? I’m really happy listening to you. Everything you say is… enthralling. Enchanting, if you will, Bri.”

His heart swelled. So much that it actually hurt his chest a little.

“Well, allow me to explain myself.” He turned his head to he was no longer looking at the stars, but the expression on his face when his eyes landed on yours made it seem like he still was. “You and I have known each other for a little while now, about six months, if I’m not mistaken. Besides your obvious personality quirks,” you lightly punched him, smiling up at him, knowing it was a playful jab at you, “there is something about you that I have noticed. Any time we are playing a show that has no roof, you find something you can climb so you can look at space. Even when there are nights with a venue that has a roof, you climb all the way up to find a window or go outside. Clearly, you are just as enamored with the scenery up above as I am.”

“Clearly, Bri. You just rambled off more facts about space than I even thought possible.”

“Well, that’s just the thing – there is something you need to know about me.” For some reason, he was nervous to admit he had his degree. Like it would make you think he is too nerdy and that you would be repulsed by him. “I actually have a degree in astrophysics. I specialized in interplanetary dust, but if simple facts about comets are enough for you, there are plenty more where that came from, love.”

You laughed from your core. It was music to his ears, and he wished he could make that sound come from your lips every day. Very few girls that he had dated in the past found him funny. They found him too stoic or serious. Yet somehow, you appreciated that side of him and the dry humor that came with it. He was certain by this point that the stars you so fondly gazed at had aligned in all the right places to get you two on this Earth together at the same time in the same place. He continued…

“But back to the matter at hand. I mentioned before that you always find a way to look at the sky at night before shows, and I’ve sworn I’ve seen you do it after some shows, too, if we get done early enough and you have time before all the vans leave. I sincerely don’t want this to come across as strange or uncomfortable, but I’m just speaking my truth in an effort to get you to see and hear me.” He took a shuddering breath, knowing by your expression that your full attention was on every word that dripped from his intelligent mouth. “Every time I see you do that, I stop what I’m doing to look at the expression on your face. You always look so calm and at peace, and I have never seen someone look at space the same way that I do. Everyone thinks I’m a dweeb, frankly. But you… you’re different. You look at space the same way I look at space. I also look at you the same way I look at space. You’re like my very own personal constellation, love, and if it isn’t already obvious, you have me wrapped around your little finger. I am infatuated with you, and this is one instance where I truly don’t know how to handle the situation.”

You had just been staring at him wide-eyed, trying to process the words coming from him. Brian was… infatuated with you? You knew what the word meant, you just weren’t sure if he meant it in regards to just how you held yourself, or if he was… in love with you. So, one of your signature quirks, as he liked to call them, came out when you bluntly asked him to explain himself further.

“Bri, when you say infatuated with me… do you mean what I think you mean?”

Brian was not the confident type around women, but for some reason, a surge ran through him at the prospect of you not completely rejecting him already. This surge coursed through his veins and overtook his senses. The next thing you felt were his lightly chapped but somehow still soft lips gently pressing and moving against your own. It was the definition of a kiss filled with love. He answered your question, alright. You pulled away from each other, lips remaining close enough to brush each other with each word spoken breathily.

“I, uh, I guess I know the answer to my question. Huh, Bri?”

“I guess you do.”

“You really feel like that for someone like me? A nobody?”

“Y/N, love?”

“Yeah?”

“Not even the stars above us compare to you.”

#brian may #brian may x reader #queen #his personal constellation #brian harold may #brian harold may x reader #astrophysics #interplanetary dust #phd #constellation #roger taylor #freddie mercury #john deacon #gwilym lee #fanfiction #fanfic #amnesia #you take my breath away #a day at the races

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inkribbon796 · 5 years ago

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Whiskey and Exhaustion

\Summary: Ed doesn’t get paid enough for half of the things he does, from babysitting the younger enforcers that worked for Dark, to making sure Bim doesn’t expose all of them to the police. He’s contemplated asking Dark for a raise, or a vacation . . . Or both.

For Ed Edgar’s birthday.

When Ed was a kid he had grandiose plans of how his life was going to go. He’d of course wanted to be a cowboy, obviously. Living a rough and tumble life out in the middle of nowhere mostly on horseback.

A dream that had been more riddled with holes than Wil’s victims often were. Ed’s father had started working for Dark, in the exact same position that Ed now held in his stead. Ed’s first encounter with a horse revealed one thing: Ed had bad knees, even as a kid. It made getting on and off a horse hard for him. Along with the fact that his dreams of being a cowboy were filled with fantasies that his father quickly ruined for him.

So he was currently one Dark’s most experienced enforcers. There were only a handful of people still alive that had worked for Dark as long as he had. So he’d seen a lot of rough stuff, things that every once in a while kept him up at night with a glass of whiskey in one shaky hand and a cigar in the other. Tonight, Dark had given him free reign over the whiskey and bourbon in his liquor cabinet, a rare mercy from the person responsible for putting Edgar in this state.

Today, even on his birthday, it was one of those days.

Edgar was sitting in Dark’s office, Google and Dark’s personal assistant had been in the room for a little bit but they’d mercifully left Ed alone. Now he was the only one in the room.

The door opened and Ed tensed, last thing he needed was a drinking buddy.

“Hey, Ed,” Illinois walked in.

“Shit kid, thought yeh were in Brazil,” Ed looked up, still sober enough to notice the much deeper tan he had.

“I got a lift,” Illinois walked over to Dark’s liquor cabinet to grab a whiskey glass. “Mind if I join you?”

“Yes, tell yer ol’ man yah can drink at home,” Ed told him.

“Was it Dark or the Bookworm?” Illinois ignored him and checked the ice, starting to pour himself a drink.

“Where did Dark even find that kid?” Ed groaned. “He’s got balls ‘a ice.”

“Oh yeah,” Illinois agreed as he took his first few sips of his drink. “Guy’s a real piece of work, had to talk to him before I came in. Who got killed this time?”

“My assistant,” Ed told him. “She was creeped out by Dark’s new pet, and I think she had a crush on him.”

“Poor thing,” Illinois rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure the guy’s veins are ice too, but last I checked people don’t get set on fire for flirting poorly.”

“She was tryin’ ta pry inta Dark’s personal business an’ apparently found out about Celine in a way he didn’t like.”

“Yikes, the Ol’ Man’s gotta go public about her before he keeps digging that pit for himself,” Illinois groaned.

“Dark, quit digging pits fer ‘imself?” Ed scoffed. “What world have yeh been living in? Sounds like fun, can I join?��

That got a chuckle out of the young adventurer. He took two boxes out of his coat, one was square shaped, another was a flat box.

“Nice magic trick, did Dark teach yah?” Ed asked, clearly suspicious of the gifts.

“Maybe,” Illinois shrugged. “I picked up my own tricks here and there, had to since I was babysitting Artie and Yan all the time. I mean, I got adopted for a reason.”

“Yah got yerself picked cause Dark could tell even from day one that yah were going to follow ‘im around like a lost puppy. I mean kid, you practically grabbed onto his arm an’ refused ta let ‘im go. Even Kay thought yeh worshiped the ground he walked on.”

“That’s a bit much,” Illinois dismissed, tipping back the rest of the glass. “Probably when I was ten and didn’t know he had the disposition of quicksand.”

“Yeh can still jump out,” Ed warned, staring at Illinois who gave him a murderous glare.

“Just open the boxes, Ed,” Illinois warned. “I’m not going anywhere, you’re in one of my dads’ offices.”

“Fine,” Edgar sighed and took the larger box to pull out a case of four whiskey glasses with horses etched onto them.

He took one of the glasses out and examined it, “Huh, thanks.”

“Second one’s from Sierras, she wanted to know if you picked up any cute girls lately,” Illinois smiled.

“Why?” Ed chuckled to himself, “so she can steal my date and my bike?”

“Probably,” Illinois answered, a little bit of humor coming back into his voice.

Ed laughed as he pulled out a shirt that read: “I’ve got OLD BALLS, what’s your superpower?” It came with a card that read: “From one fabulous bitch to another.”

What surprised Ed was the shocking nice note inside, even if she did insult him several times. “Huh, she’s lost her mind.”

“You know the old saying,” Illinois shrugged, pouring himself another drink. “Distance makes the heart grow fond.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when she stops sending me brochures to old folks’ homes,” Ed warned. “I’m not even fifty.”

“Could’a fooled me with all those wrinkles and bags,” Illinois jabbed.

“Can it you,” Ed snapped goodnaturedly.

“The Old Man said you have the day off tomorrow,” Illinois said, standing up and taking his glass with him. “Try to sleep in.”

“What’s the occasion?” Ed whistled. “I get to drink an’ not walk in with a hangover tomorrow.”

“Take advantage of it while you can, I’ve got to be in bright and early tomorrow, found the Old Man’s face on a rock slab in Brazil, and he wants it translated out ASAP.”

“Shouldn’t he know what’s on it?” Ed asked.

That question got another noncommittal shrug, “Thanks again for the adoption.”

“Thanks for being one ‘a the only two brain cells yah Lost Ones had, made it easier,” Ed told him.

Illinois smiled and took off his fedora, blowing air on the bronze star pinned inside of the hat. Immediately a portal into Dark’s side of the Void ripped open to let Illinois through.

With a lazy, improper two finger salute, Illinois jumped backwards through the Void, leaving Edgar to his whiskey and the comforting silence of the room.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Markiplier #Ed Edgar #Illinois the Adventurer #ahwm Illinois #birthday post #birthday alcohol

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j2badwolfclevergirl · 5 years ago

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Dear you,

I know today isn't actually my birthday, but it's still close enough that it doesn't feel wrong to write this.

I remember the last time I wrote a letter to myself was when I was eighteen. Wow. That was four years ago now. Hey. It's me. You.

You were such a different person back then.

Still raw and broken, trying to find something, anything to hang onto. Your life was falling apart.

Friends were growing up and leaving. You were growing up and it fucking terrified you. You were so scared and insecure that you closed in on yourself, all long sleeves and sweaters. You couldn't bare your arms because all your pain was written on them.

You were losing your religion, your faith.

You had no fucking clue who you were or what you wanted. Well, you thought you knew what you wanted but now you're not as sure.

Do you remember those walks on the beach with Evan, how happy and yet how miserable you were?

You remember thinking "these are the memories I'll treasure."

And you were right. But you were also wrong.

Because those memories couldn't compare to some of the ones that came later.

You, at eighteen, would never have even imagined who you would become.

At nineteen, things finally started to heal. You cut off all your hair and you fucking loved it. You left religion in your rearview with all the trauma it had caused you. Ok, maybe not all of it. Some of it you still carry deep in your chest and you're still trying to pry all the sharp-edged, heavy pieces out.

You went to England, for a whole month all by yourself. You literally got on an international plane and flew for seven hours and were awake for almost twenty four hours straight and then

you were there. In England.

That "someday" dream actually became a reality. You got to see Shakespeare's birthplace and visit Jane Austen's house.

You went out to a pub for the first time and drank for the first time. You even got kinda drunk. You tried a hand-rolled cigarette. You felt free and a little terrified by it.

You went for walks by that river, beautiful and a little haunting.

You were pretty lonely for most of that month, but you don't really regret a second of it.

It showed you that you were capable of so much more than you thought and that maybe some of your dreams could acutally come true.

Then you started college. For real this time. Moving away from home, leaving behind your remaining two friends and your dear, crazy family.

You remember how scared you were that drive down? How you had your headphones on and were trying to drown out the frantic voices in your head, the twisting vines in your chest and stomach? How your fingers kept knotting in your lap as you tried to wring the anxiety out of them?

Remember that first night in the dorm room? Scared but also kind of excited. College was a place to start fresh, to try and figure out who you were now.

That first semester was a bit of a mixed bag. You made some friends but being around them made you anxious, insecure. Casper died and you cried more than you thought you would.

And then there was that night with your friends, playing drinking games and drinking wine out of a red solo cup with a twisty straw. They went out to smoke and you thought, "Why not?" And then you came inside and everything shattered. You were on the floor, in someone's lap, crying and trying to breathe. You couldn't stop saying sorry. Four and a half hours you just kept gasping "sorry" over and over and over, begging for forgiveness for being weak, being a burden, for ruining everyone's night. And that was the night everything started to crack again.

The long sleeves came back. It got hard to breathe more often. You couldn't spend time with your friends because your brain wouldn't shut up about how they didn't really like you, how you were a burden, how they judged you for being weak, how they wouldn't miss you and how they would even be better off without you. And so you hid. You stopped going to dinner. You unfollowed and avoided. You cut them off and shut them out because you couldn't make the voices stop. You started to break again.

But then summer came and it was almost a relief. Home was the same, except it wasn't. The twins had started to get boobs, James was in high school and everyone was fucking growing still. It felt good to be home but it was also hard to see that everything had continued while you were gone, that your little siblings were growing up when you weren't there to see.

The second year was a little better, a little easier. I honestly don't remember much of it off the top of my head. You started to tentatively make some new friends. Just aquaintence level really but it was a start. You kept learning, kept struggling a bit but you didn't break again.

You had your first kiss at 20 years old with the first girl you ever liked. Oh yeah, that's right. Somewhere before college you figured out you liked girls. In fact, you really like girls. It was scary and, like the nerd you are, you turned to google. You spent hours researching, taking quizes like

"am i gay?"

"is it a crush or a girl crush?"

"do i really like her?"

You watched dozens and dozens of videos just trying to get used to two girls kissing. You imagined what it would be like to kiss a girl. And you didn't hate the idea.

It took months before you decided you were bi. You didn't tell anyone for a long time. But when you did, no one made it a big deal. But you couldn't tell Gammy. You still haven't told Gammy. You're too scared. You don't think your relationship with her will survive.

You also went on your first date at 20. It went ok but she told you she wasn't interested after the second date. That seems to be your lot. You still haven't made it past the second date.

21 was when things really started to get better. You made some real new friends. They aren't perfect and sometimes you still struggle with insecurity but you're learning that it's ok and that often they are just as nervous and insecure as you.

You could finally legally drink! The first time you go to the liquor store they don't even card you and you think it's pretty funny.

You started trying to love yourself. It wasn't easy. It still isn't. You also started to let loose, take more risks, try to go with the flow a little more. You went on more dates but nothing ever panned out. You also started smoking weed. You really fucking love weed now.

You spent more time with Emma and found out you actually have a lot in common. She became your fun-friend, the friend who would drink with you on a weekday, smoke with you when-fucking-ever and who encouraged you to let loose. You were each other's cheerleader and each other's encouragement to live like the young 20 year olds you were. Remember that night you went out drinking on a Wednesday afternoon before class? You had drinks and then two shots. I don't think anyone noticed though. Two weeks later, you were back at the bar before class again and you both split a pitcher of mimosas in celebration of the ending semester. Those were two of the best nights you ever had. But they weren't nearly as fun as the days you would go over to Emma's apartment to "study." Those afternoons and evenings spent drinking, smoking and talking. Sometimes playing a game, sometimes watching a TV show, but always having so much fun.

Now, here you are. 22 years old. Four years ago, you were on suicide watch and feeling like life would never get any better. Now, you're thinking about teaching abroad after you graduate.

You still aren't in a relationship but for the first time in your life, you are genuinely okay with that.

You don't have a lot of friends but the ones you have you wouldn't trade for anyone else.

You're still trying to find the balance between responsibility and living life to the fullest but you're getting better at it everyday.

You also started practicing witchcraft, which is kinda cool.

You feel more confident in yourself and you are having fun experimenting with your style.

You shaved your head and it makes you look kinda badass. (It is also so much easier to deal with and let's be honest that is really why you love it.)

You smile so much more than you used to. You laugh more and cry a little easier. You're finally starting to let yourself really feel again. You're trying not to be so afraid of feeling, trying to stop numbing yourself when you feel overwhelmed. You're trying to sit with your emotions more and let them pass rather than ignoring them because you're scared you'll fall back into the dark place. You're growing.

You have changed so much.

You still think being an adult sucks, but you're starting to notice and take advantage of more of the perks

You have transformed from a scared, broken, bleeding teen into a confident, curious, and free-spirited adult.

The future isn't as scary now. I mean, there are definitely still days where it terrifies you and your chest aches for everything you've lost with time. There are still days where you relive a memory and long to go back to when things were simpler.

But there are also days where you remember that the future promises more of those good times and memories.

You're doing what makes you happy more. You're letting yourself be happy without guilt.

You're finding the pleasure and joy where you can and learning to enjoy it as it washes over you, instead of trying to grab it and hold on.

You're letting yourself make mistakes and trying not to feel as embarrassed or ashamed of them as you used to.

I am so proud of you. I am so proud of who you're still becoming, of who you won't ever stop becoming.

Keep growing, keep learning, keep taking risks and making mistakes.

Be brave.

Be curious.

Be tender.

Because you're alive and that's all that matters.

Love,

You at 22

#personal #personal writing #letter to me #poetry #original poem #22 #life in your 20s #open letter #my thoughts

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ariahearthockey · 5 years ago

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Love Me, If You Will - Chapter 3

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

_/_/_/_/

Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Tags: 2017 NHL Playoffs, Concussion, Memory Loss, Medical Inaccuracies, Unexplained Medical Conditions, Alternate Reality, Time Travel (sort of), Pining, Fluff, Porn With Feelings, Happy Ending (sort of)

Soundtrack: Dancing On My Own - Calum Scott

_/_/_/_/

Chapter 3

He feels odd walking down the familiar hallway towards the locker room in the PPG Paint Arena. Everything looks as it should be and yet, it feels somewhat difference. He has just finished a brief chat with Sully in his office, relaying the good news after his follow-up check-up with the team doctor. As expected, Dr Vyas has cleared him to play in game five but not before he is reminded to keep a look out for any more symptoms. He has decided not to enclose his issue with his messed-up memory, and it is arguably the most conflicted he has ever felt. It feels a lot like a betrayal of trust to the management, but with the playoff on the line, too much is at risk.

On the drive from their house to the rink, he has some time to think about the matter on hand and he has decided not to let anyone know other than himself and Geno. He is still shaken about it for sure, but years of practice has allowed him to compartmentalise his fear and do what needs to be done. And what he needs is for this to not interfere with his chance to go for the Stanley Cup with his team.

It took him more than half an hour in the staffs' parking lot to convince Geno. Geno has looked so offended when he has first suggested to keep it a secret. Geno was absolutely appalled and almost recruited Brisson to talk some sense into him until he begs Geno not to. He talked to Geno with as much sincerity as he could muster, reasoning with Geno that there would not be a quick fix to his condition. What if Dr. Vyas decided to pull him out for the rest of the playoff? What good will that do to the team?

And Geno had been so angry that he said to hell with the playoff because everything else pales in comparison to Sidney's health. Sidney would have been really touched by that, that Geno is genuinely scared for his sake. If only he wasn't a selfish bastard.

He pried further into Geno's weakness and used it to his advantage. He pleaded Geno to understand his desire to keep playing, telling him how much it would mean for him if he could raise the cup over his head again, how happy it would make him if they could kiss the cup again and bring it home together. And that if his memory never comes back, then at least he could have this, and they could build new ones together. It was a cheap shot, borderline manipulative to be taking advantage of Geno's kindness like that, but he was desperate, and it did get him what he wanted. Geno's reluctance was torn down bits by bits, and finally crumbled down when Sidney promised to come clean right away when he feels any worse.

So, as of right now, the secret is safe.

In a moment of honesty, he is willing to admit that he has never been as shaken as he has. He is somehow thrust in the center on an entirely different life that he knows nothing of. He has a husband and a beautiful, doting 3-year old daughter. Sofya, the child who is rightfully theirs through surrogacy. He is still not done digesting the fact that his own sister has volunteered to donate her egg and carry the child to term. It feels all too weird at first, but when he sees the picture of his—their daughter—on Geno's phone, he has never been more thankful. Dressed in tiny hockey gears, bright smile on her face, and clutching a giant penguin plushie in her tiny arms, she is just a ball of sunshine that makes him want to weep. A little bit of Geno and a little bit of him, she is just the perfect little miracle that melts his heart through and through.

And then he wonders to himself, how could I have forgotten my own child, as sweet and as beautiful as her? And all that has accomplished is making him dispose of any doubt he has for keeping his condition under wraps. This whole thing about not remembering is messing with him quite a lot. He can't seem to shake off the gnawing feelings his guts. It grows stronger with more stones being turned, and he can't ignore that something is disproportionately wrong with him. He thinks that it is his body trying to tell him something, that maybe his time as a hockey player is dated. That thought leaves him petrified and that further pushes him to make the most out of whatever time he still has.

He doesn't know what to expect when he pushes the door into the locker room. It smells just as it should be right after every practice session and just as loud too, maybe even louder. The picture of twenty over something men in all states of undress is a comfortable norm to him and for brief moment, he feels at home for the first time since he woke up. He doesn't know why but he comes in, prepared to feel somewhat out of place, but the warm greetings and lame chirps from his teammates give him a sense of familiarity he didn't know he craves until now. It calms him.

Geno is already out of his gear—thankfully with his undershirt still on—when he makes a beeline over to Sidney. He ducks down to give Sidney a chaste kiss on the mouth and hears some of the guys in the room hollering at them to get a room or something along that line and Geno chirping back. He doesn't know what to make of that little display of affection, nor he has the time to, because his mind is still reeling with it as he is being escorted back to Geno's stall. It isn't much, just a brief touching of lips on lips but it is enough to keep him stunned for a bit. The guys don't seem to bat an eye to see their captain and their alternate kiss, which tells him that it may be something of a frequent occurance.

Oh, yes. Of course it does. He just remembered that he and Geno have been married for five fucking years. They are practically one of the old married couples now.

"Sid, talk with Sully okay?" Geno asks and he almost can't hear it when the younger guys throw a couple more dirty chirps their way that comprises of their sex life. Sidney blushes and nods at Geno as a respond before they are once again interrupted, this time by Cully who comes by and gives his back a couple of friendly pats.

"Hey, babe. Good to have you back in one piece. You scared the hell out of a lot of us when you stayed down on the ice, especially your protective Russian bear over here."

"It's true, I can attest to that." Chimes Phil who looks like he has just came out of the shower judging by how his hair matted on his forehead. "You know, this guy here looked about to hurl when you went down and it took three of us to physically stop him from going over to make Niskanen pay."

Sidney chuckles when Geno grumbles disapprovingly at the two babble mouths and to his surprise, he finds Grumpy Geno kind of adorable. "Well, it's really just bad luck that he got me that way. It's just how it is, right? I don't think it was on purpose or anything. It's just ill-timed, is all. I think he left me several texts, probably apologising, but I haven't check them out yet, so."

"Ill-timed my ass! More like perfectly timed to me, man. If he hits any harder, who knows if it's gonna end it for you right there and then, huh? I don't know about you guys, man, but Flower definitely agrees with me, right Flower?"

"Huh?" Flower looks up from his lap where his helmet is on, and takes a few moments looking back and forth between Kuni and Sidney to catch on to what is being asked of him. He tosses a roll of tape onto the bench and smooths his long fringe away from his eyes. "Oh, yeah. For sure, man. Sid, so glad you're okay. What Nisky did was so not cool and I'm gonna make sure he knows that we're very upset with him."

Sidney frowns because Flower is usually not much of an instigator but he must say, he is curious to see what Flower would do to show his dissatisfaction. "Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it. I'm sorry for making you guys worry about me. But hey—it's game four. You guys are gonna kill it tonight, eh?"

"Hell yeah, baby!"

"You bet your gigantic ass we will!"

"We're gonna take this game for you, man!"

"For Sid!"

"Watch and learn, boys. I'm gonna make Ovi cry like a baby tonight."

To say that Sidney is touched by the support from his teammates is an understatement, especially when Horny make his way over without a word and gives him a tight, bone-crushing hug. It lasts longer than any ordinary locker room hugs should be, and probably longer than Geno has liked because it has him practically prying Horny's arms away to end it. When they part, Sidney thinks he caught a glimpse of Horny's watery eyes before he heads out of the locker room. At that moment, he thinks himself as the most privileged guy to be surrounded by these group of good people and he is grateful.

He stays in the room while he waits for Geno to come back. Geno is with Dana in the equipment room, sorting out some issue Geno has on his pair of new skates. Some of the rookies come to him and they talk for a bit, mostly asking how he is doing and talking about how to improve their plays. Shearsy—who is also out for concussion—sits quietly beside him and listens when he comments about Jake's wrist shots.

It is nice to be having these talks with the boys. It makes him feel like he is contributing something to the team, as much as it distracts him from searching for answers that never seem to be there. For what it is worth, apart from being called Mrs Malkin every five minutes or so—all in good fun, of course—the team is still more or less the same. They are still the same driven group and he wants nothing more than to help them achieve their best game, regardless if he is playing or not.

Optimistically, everything will return to normal once he regains his lost memories. But realistically, the brain is quite a fickle thing and God knows what will happen to him in the near future, if his health will deteriorate drastically at some point. Whichever way his health leads him to, he wants to be able to look himself in the mirror and says that he has done everything he can to help his team be the better team.

"Okay, rookies. Time's up. I'm take husband back now."

"Come on, Geno. Don't hog Sid all to yourself, man."

"I'm hog because I'm put ring on it. Now fuck off, Olli."

Geno squeezes himself into the space between Olli and Sidney and pushes Olli's blonde head away. Olli pushes back playfully and it makes Geno loses his balance a little, causing him to land onto Sidney's lap. Sidney catches a lapful of Geno and his hands flies up to Geno's waist on instinct, just as Geno wraps his arms around Sidney's shoulders. He has to bite back a moan when Geno moves to sits himself more comfortable and—probably not deliberately—grinding onto his crotch. He can't help the blush that rises when the rookies give them some horrified scandalous looks.

"Oh, come on. Really? Stop with the foreplay, dude. You know we can't unsee this, right?"

"Don't be baby. You see worse." Geno snarks at Jake as he make a show to tease the watchful eyes around them by tracing his hand slowly down the line of Sidney's spine. Sidney can't help the shiver that wrecks through his body and hides his profile behind of Geno, shielding his blush that is unmistakably colouring his cheeks.

"Ugh, don't remind me. I'm still trying to bleach that image of your naked ass out of my brain."

"Hey, is good ass." Geno counters and defends his ass further when the rookies shakes their head in disbelief. "You not believe me? Wait, I'm show—"

"Yeah, okay. I think we're just gonna go now and leave you two to it. And Sidney, try not to drain too much out of Geno, okay? We kinda need him tonight? Alright. Good talk, team. Dismiss!"

It is amusing to see how fast the rookies can disperse at the threat of seeing Geno's ass. Just in a few minutes time, Sidney finds himself alone with Geno in the room, with Geno still perched comfortably on his lap. He is in no hurry to get Geno off, and he will never admit it to Geno, but he is starting to lose feelings in his legs.

"Sorry for long wait. I'm make sure Dana do job."

Sidney glances up and stunned to have Geno's face just inches away from his. "It's fine, G. New skates, I know how it is."

"Yes. Dana say Sid worse than me."

Sidney shoves him away with a firm push and laughs a little guiltily when Geno lands on the carpeted floor with a thud.

"Hey, why Sid push me? What I'm say?" Geno asks as Sidney straightens his suit and heading for the door.

"Yeah, keep playing dumb, Geno. Come on, I'm hungry. Hurry up or I'm leaving without you." He shouts over his shoulder just as the door closes, and hears Geno chuckling lightly on the other side of the door.

_/_/_/_/

#sidgeno #fanfiction #Love Me If You Will #ariahearthockeywrites #men's hockey rpf

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kainks · 7 years ago

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midnight suck. 2

pairing: vamp!jungkook x reader

genre: vampire au, destined lovers au

warnings: scary vampy jungkook, badass min yoongi, intimidation, and a little bit of angst because reader is going through some shit

words: 4,457

summary: you had seen him drain the life out of someone, there was no way he could leave you alone now.

“Come on little human, come out and play.”

–> 1 | 3 | 4

Series updates every Saturday at 8PM PST!

The sound of a casserole dish cracking into a million pieces is what silenced your sudden screams. Taehyung and Jimin’s voices fell silent, their footsteps becoming louder as they rushed from the kitchen back into the main area of the house, confusion overcoming their features.

You on the other hand, were stone cold, petrified.

Rich, coffee eyes lit up at your quivering, enjoyment lacing his face as you stared up at him, tiny beads of sweat sliding down your temples, and fingers clutching the brass knob of the door a little too tightly.

Is this where you die? Where he sinks his pearly whites into your neck?

“I have to admit, that was not the reaction I was expecting.”

Yoongi’s voice broke out from behind you, and though you couldn’t see for yourself, you sensed a hint of a smirk on his face. What the fuck.

Without thinking, you quickly attempted to slam the front door closed, pushing your right shoulder into the heavy wood in attempts to make it close quicker, but your efforts were halted with a single black combat boot. Stuck right between the door and the wall, halting you instantly.

Your stopped breathing.

“___, what the heck are you doing!” Taehyung yelled, rushing over to your side to help pry open the door. You wanted to yell at him, plead that he was letting a monster into his own home. That you were all most likely going to die tonight.

Truthfully, your brain felt too foggy, too frozen to really grasp onto the reality you were currently in. The thing that had been haunting your consciousness for the past twenty four hours was now standing in front of you, the same thing you had seen kill a man right before your eyes.

“Yeah, what are you doing?” Yoongi questioned, chuckling from behind you.

Jimin was at his side, staring at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads, not paying attention to the satisfied face of his boyfriend. Your eyes narrowed at the older male, because he definitely knew something you didn’t.

“Come on in Jungkook, I’m sorry about that..” Taehyung pushed you behind him gently, removing you from blocking the door any further, and once it was fully opened again, you found yourself taking a few steps back.

Fuck, it really was him. You had been hoping your eyes had just been playing tricks on you, but he was really standing in Taehyung’s doorway and staring right at you. The same grin gracing his lips as the night you’d first seen him, only this time there wasn’t any blood and death surrounding him.

“It’s fine hyung,” He waved it off, stepping through the doorway with an easy stride. “I always tend to have that effect on women.”

You would have scoffed if your heart wasn’t threatening to beat right out of your chest. Adrenaline was running high through your veins, and you found yourself feeling suffocated within the small apartment.

Right as you were about to make an excuse to escape, to go hide away in the bathroom or something, Jimin was grabbing onto your shoulder from behind and turning you towards him, a look of concern on his face.

“You okay? Why did you scream like that?”

Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Panic was weighing heavy on your body, and you could tell you were seconds away from having an attack right in front of everyone.

Shaking your head, you sent him an easy smile, one that you hoped was reassuring enough. “I uh- I saw a moth. It was.. really big.”

You really were a fucking terrible liar. You avoided making any eye contact with Taehyung, or the killer beside him, and instead sighed with relief as Jimin lightly laughed at your half ass excuse.

“You hear that Jungkook, it wasn’t you after all. She saw a bug.”

Then everyone was laughing, Yoongi pulling Jimin into his side to give him a quick peck on the cheek, and you would have rolled your eyes at the sight, if it wasn’t for Jimin’s blushing cheeks and fond smile. You had a sickening feeling that there was something up with Yoongi, the guy was just too mysterious.

You would’ve slipped away in that moment, if Taehyung’s hand hadn’t grabbed your wrist, turning you to face him. You really didn’t want to, because Jungkook was standing right next to him, close enough to touch, and you wanted nothing more than to run away and hide.

When Taehyung looked at your face, his smile instantly dropped. That was an advantage of knowing someone so closely for a long period of time, you were able to catch on instantly when something wasn’t quite right. And Taehyung sensed that almost immediately.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He leaned in closer, voice lowering to a whisper as to not alert anyone else. You could hear Jimin and Yoongi talking, all the while he was leaned up against the front door, which was now closed, arms crossed and seemingly listening in on both conversations. Yet his eyes never once left you and Taehyung.

Oh god.

“Y-yeah, I’m.. fine.” You swallowed back the nauseous feeling in your stomach. “I think I need to go lay down more..”

It seemed as if Taehyung wasn’t as convinced as Jimin, opening his mouth to say something, but ultimately deciding against it. Instead, he nodded his head, the hand on your wrist coming up to grab your shoulder in a comforting squeeze.

“Sure, that’s fine.” His eyes did a quick glance over to the three guests, before landing back on you. “I’ll bring you some dinner when it’s done, just in case you’re hungry later okay?”

Your heart felt heavy from Taehyung’s gentle nature towards you, and you quickly nodded in reply, sending him a grateful smile. “Thanks Tae…” You choked out in a whisper, right before turning around and bolting from the room.

It was rude, and bold, just leaving so suddenly, but you were sure your knees were going to give out any second. Your body felt light, like you were floating, as you rushed down the hallway and towards the guest bedroom.

You couldn’t believe you were currently in the same vicinity as a murderer. Not only did you fear for your own life, but Taehyung and Jimin’s as well. And maybe Yoongi, just a little bit.

You slammed the door to the bedroom harshly, securing the lock into place and therefore your own safety. Or so you hoped. You had a hard time believing that a cheap bedroom lock could keep a.. him out.

You slid down the door in a silent relief, yet your veins still ran cold as you shut your eyes, seeing nothing but your own blood staining cherry red lips.

/~/

Time seemed to stop altogether, the longer you sat against the door. Your erratic heart had long but slowed down to a steady, yet worrisome pulse. You were bathed in a sea of black, not having found the energy to reach up for the light switch. It was an eerie isolation, yet it allowed your mind the chance to break through the confusion.

Like how Taehyung and Jimin seemed to know Jungkook surprisingly well. Like how Yoongi was definitely keeping a secret, one that you were sure was no good.

Oh, and there was also the fact that Jungkook was a killer.

A fucking vampire.

Honestly, if you weren’t so scared, you would have been consumed with rage instead. How dare he mess up your stupid little life, that you had been living just fine before he showed up and drained the blood out of a man right in front of you.

It was all too much.

What was even worse, was that he knew you were staying at Taehyung’s now. Your chance at hiding away was all but useless. You had nowhere else to go, and no money to stay anywhere.

If he was planning on killing you, you hoped he got it over with quick. The anxiety of sitting around, waiting, was consuming you into a blinding sickness.

“I’ve lost my mind, oh my go-”

Two knocks on the door halted any remaining thoughts.

Your body tensed against the wood, breaths stilling in your lungs in attempt to be as quiet as possible. You had no idea who was on the other side, but you really didn’t feel like dealing with anyone at the moment.

It was probably Taehyung, bringing you dinner.

You knew you couldn’t ignore him, not when he’d been so concerned over the way you’d acted earlier. Plus, you really didn’t want him asking any unnecessary questions. Especially when you didn’t have easy answers to give.

It’s better to put on a good face.

Standing up, your joints ached from the prolonged position they’d been in for who knows how long. You winced slightly, quickly flicking on the bedroom light and squinting as the harsh artificial glow from the lamp stung your eyes.

Twisting the lock out of place, you opened the door, other hand rubbing your eyes gently, trying to work your vision back into place.

“You’re not going to slam the door in my face again, are you?”

Your hand froze, falling from your eyes almost instantly.

He stood there, holding a dinner plate in both hands, and a heart attack inducing grin on his face. Not the good kind of heart attack either. But one that would surely leave you dead if you stared for too long.

Your body stilled from the shock, of once again having him so close, so close to being able to kill you if he truly wanted.

Yet all he did was stand there, smirk on his lips and brows raised in an arrogant gesture. As if he expected another crazy fit from you, perhaps you screaming ‘killer’ until you passed out from lack of oxygen.

Which didn’t sound so bad, now that you thought of it.

“I-I..” Your words stuttered out of a dry mouth, throat seemingly closing up from the pure anxiety that coursed through your body, at that very moment.

It was sort of bizarre, watching the torment of your very nightmares hold a dish of chicken casserole between his hands.

He probably doesn’t even eat chicken..

“What? Have nothing to say?” He tutted condescendingly, and when you proved to further say nothing to your defense, his boots were stepping heavily towards your quivering form in response. The sound was akin to heavy thunder, closing in on you unwantedly.

You walked backwards, until your back met the flush of the wall on the other side of the room. Swiftly, with ease, he used the heel of his boot to shut the door with a soft ‘click’, setting the plate of food down on the nearby dresser.

The odds were definitely not in your favor, as you were at the very opposite end of the apartment from everyone else, while simultaneously stuck in a small bedroom with a known killer, who happened to be blocking your exit.

Not like you could outrun him anyways.

“S-stay the hell away from me!” Your right hand came out in front of you, in some weak attempt at keeping him at arm's length. A look of amusement crossed his face, lips turning up into a blinding grin at your pathetic attempt at looking strong.

“Why should I?” He teased, tongue running a path over his bottom lip enticingly.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t, not when he now stood only inches before you, height overshadowing your own in a way that made you feel so small and weak under his gaze.

“I know it was you that night.” He drawled. You gasped, oxygen stinging your lungs as your eyes widened in shock at his bold statement, how he wasn’t even attempting to deny what had happened.

“Did you really think you could run from me?” He chuckled, shaking his head at his own words, bringing his thumb to the apple of your cheek as he pressed the pad into your skin, caressing right below your left eye.

You tensed, muscles burning in protest.

His touch felt like fire, consuming you in steady flames.

“Pathetic little human, thinking she escaped and outsmarted me.” He hummed darkly, eyes flashing with the barest hints of anger. “Sorry to tell you, but I let you go willingly.”

His words only further confirmed what you had already expected. It hadn’t just been luck on your side that night. Your escape hadn’t been an escape at all, but a chase.

He’d been toying with you the entire time.

“Why.. why didn’t you-” You couldn’t find the words to finish the sentence, not with the heavy wave of nausea creeping up on you.

He didn’t seem to care about your pained expression as he let his hand fall from your face. “Why didn’t I kill you?” He questioned with a smirk. You noticed how he seemed to question it himself, eyes flicking to your neck for the smallest second before finding your gaze once again.

“Because,” You watched in horror, pure fear, as his pupils shifted from dark onyx, to a vibrant shade of deathly red. “It’s more satisfying to play with your food.”

“That’s enough kid.”

A voice that didn’t belong to either one of you spoke out, without much emotion but full of demand. It was a gravelly, rich voice, and you knew instantly to whom it belonged to.

Yoongi.

Shifting your gaze over Jungkook’s shoulder, you spotted the older male leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest in a bored manner. Yet his eyes weren’t on you, but on the other male in the room.

Jungkook’s face seemed to break out of whatever mindset he’d been in, because his eyes flashed back to their regular hue of coffee brown, with hints of gold flecks that seemed to beckon you in subconsciously.

“What do you want hyung?” His eyes remained on you even as he spoke, and you were a little shocked at the lack of respect he gave towards Yoongi, something that the older man seemed to demand from everyone that crossed paths with him.

“Step away from her Jungkook, now.”

You were so fucking confused. Why was Yoongi there? Why did he seem so calm, considering the situation? You were practically pinned to the wall by a stranger, in his eyes, and clearly freaking out.

And most importantly, where the hell were Taehyung and Jimin?

“Fine.” The younger practically spat out, taking three long steps away from you before turning around to eye the shorter man. You had to admit, you were slightly afraid for Yoongi, since Jungkook seemed to have the upper hand. Yet something told you that Yoongi could most definitely handle himself.

Your heart was still beating erratically in your chest, and you wondered silently if Jungkook could hear it. If he knew exactly how scared you were of him.

Of course he did.

“Get out of here.” Yoongi ordered in a brash tone, eyeing the younger with a steel gaze. It even made you waver a bit, sweaty palms rubbing against the front of your jeans nervously.

“Hyung..” Jungkook started, clearly not happy with being bossed around, and his time with you being cut short.

Too fucking bad, because you were ecstatic.

“Now, before I kick your ass.”

With that, the younger let out a growl that seemed to echo throughout the entire room, lips curling up into a silent snarl before shoving past the older male and leaving the room in a hurry.

He hadn’t even spared another glance at you, and even with his presence gone, you were still frozen to the same spot against the wall. You didn’t think your muscles would work even if you tried to move them.

“Are you stupid?”

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. Had Yoongi really just asked you that? You gave him a look of bewilderment, to which he ignored as he stepped into the room, yet the door remained open.

“Are you looking for trouble?” He shook his head, a breathy exhale of annoyance leaving his mouth.

“W-what? What the hell did I do?!”

His footsteps rushed towards you, until he stood in the exact same spot that Jungkook had been in moments prior. Except he looked considerably angry and irritated that you’d decided to open your mouth.

“Keep your voice down,” He demanded instantly. “And listen to me, got it? You don’t speak, I do.”

You had no other choice but to nod your head in agreement, his aura too dominant, like you’d be committing the biggest sin if you didn’t do what he asked.

“Good.” He nodded, pleased with your silent acknowledgement. “I’m not sure what you know, or saw, but I have a feeling that you know quite a lot by now.”

You nodded. What was he implying exactly though?

“Jungkook is the type to torment, and for some reason, he has his eyes set on you.”

You bit back a scoff at the clear insult, but said nothing in return. Yoongi shook his head, and you could faintly hear the loud laughs of Jimin ringing through the apartment. The small reminder of his boyfriend seemed to calm down the irritated look on his face, because it almost instantaneously softened.

Yet his words brought you back to your current situation. Type to torment? What did he mean by that exactly? Your gut was leading you to believe that the usually reserved Yoongi knew a lot more than he let on. Or maybe… knew just as much as you.

“Do you know-” You gulped. “Do you know Yoongi, that Jungkook is.. Is..”

He was silent for exactly ten seconds, staring at the wall behind your head, before he shut his eyes in a pained expression of defeat.

“Yeah.. I know.”

It was like the world instantly shrunk in on you, suffocating your lungs and chest into a breathless emotion of relief and dread all at once. Because in that moment, judging by the tone of his voice and the pitiful expression on his face, you knew nothing good would come from his next words.

“I’m the same, as Jungkook.”

You hated being right.

Words no longer existed, your brain completely shutting off from any logical thinking because now you were in a confined space with not one, but two, killing machines, and at any moment you and Taehyung, and oh god, Jimin, could all be slaughtered for a late night snack.

“Oh fuck.”

You were quick to sidestep him, rushing to the end of the bed where your bag still sat full, untouched. “I need to get the hell out of here, oh my god.”

A firm grip on your upper arm stopped you from bending down to grab the strap and book it out of the apartment. Spinning you around rather harshly, Yoongi glared at you with narrowed eyes. His grip on you was bordering on painful, yet you knew he wasn’t exuding as much strength as he could be.

“Don’t be stupid.” He spat angrily. “If you run now, he’ll just follow you. Is that what you want?”

You quickly shook your head, yet felt your own anger rising in return. “Well I’m not sticking around to let you both fucking kill me! I saw him murder someone Yoongi, and he knew I was there. He’s going to fucking kill me anyways.”

At that, his own eyes widened, as he let his grip from you fall hesitantly. “What did you just say?”

“I said, I saw him kill someone. Last night.” It was the first time you’d dared to speak the words, and it only further dawned on you just how real and terrifying the situation was.

“In the city?” You shook your head. “No, just on the outskirts. Near where I work. I live close to where it happened, and he let me get away. Why didn’t he just kill me then?”

You couldn’t believe you were having the current conversation. Your mind was still floaty and confused, as if nothing made sense anymore. Yoongi was a fucking vampire. What the hell were you supposed to make of that?

Now you had double the chance of dying, which was just great.

“Dammit.” He growled, more to himself than you. You noticed how he didn’t answer your question, and you weren’t sure if that was intentional or not.

“Are you better?” You asked pathetically small, voice quiet as you stared at him with something akin to hope.

“What are you talking about?” He asked quickly, seemingly annoyed with you for the hundredth time that night.

“Are you better… than him?”

It was surreal, watching various emotions flicker across his eyes as he took in your words. Regret turned into sorrow, which brought about a cold gaze of anger that you were used to seeing permanently etched onto his face by now.

“No.” He spoke harshly, taking a step away from you. “No, I’m not.”

/~/

The next morning brought summer rain and cloudy skies. You longed for the sun, when was the last time you’d last felt its warmth on your skin?

How long had it been, since you’d truly felt okay?

The feather comforter was molded to your body, covering every inch except for your head. In your temporary cocoon, you felt the slightest bit safe. Daylight was there once more, you could hear the faint murmurs of people talking and cars speeding by from outside the window.

Taehyung was bustling around in the kitchen, pots and pans clattering loudly as the television played softly from the living room, most likely some random show that he’d never watch. It was just useless noise.

Everything seemed useless to you.

Your inability to keep yourself and friends safe. The world you thought you once knew, was gone, completely destroyed within two days. You felt cheated and broken all at once.

Closing your eyes tiredly, your mind rushed back to last night, recalling on events that still made your pulse run rapidly with fear.

….. “No, I’m not.”

You didn’t say anything. What could you say?

“Does Jimin know?”

He shook his head. “No, never. He will never find out from anyone.” At the last word, his cold gaze zeroed in on you. You felt yourself shrink back in response.

“You won’t breathe a fucking word to him about any of this, do you understand?” He spat out. “Or I will kill you myself.”

You felt tears pool in your eyes, spirit being crushed within moments. It was only rational, for you to cry at such a threat. You wanted to sob, really. Just scream and yell until your throat ran dry and you could no longer speak. Instead, you let silent tears fall down your cheeks as you stared at him wordlessly. Numbly.

“I- I wish I’d never fucking met you. Any of you.” You brought your hands up to wipe at your face, and Yoongi seemed to cool down the venom pooling on his tongue, as he let out a sigh.

“Fuck, I- I didn’t really mean it, I’m just angry.” You scoffed, to which he ignored. “I’m just scared okay? I fucking love Jimin. I wouldn’t hurt him… or you. Alright? So stop crying.”

“You don’t think I’m scared?! I just found out monsters exist, and that one wants to kill me!”

Yoongi stood silent, until he was placing his hands on your shoulders, making you face him. His grip was gentle this time, you noticed.

“We’re not all monsters.” He spoke quietly between the two of you. “I know you think you’re crazy but you aren’t, okay? Jungkook was reckless that night, you should have never seen him.”

He sighed in disappointment.

“I know you won’t believe me when I say this, but he’s not going to kill you. So stop worrying.”

You looked at him as if he’d gone insane. Out of all the things you’d experienced over the past two days, that had to be the craziest thing you’d heard.

“Then why were you so eager to make him leave earlier?” He’d practically thrown the younger male out of the room.

“Jungkook is… complex. He doesn’t kill for sport, he has a method. He won’t kill you, so just trust me on that okay?”

Your face scrunched in confusion.

“How do you know he won’t? He was pretty clear that he didn’t like me, and I was just a game to him…”

Yoongi just shook his head, hands falling from your shoulders.

“Just trust me, Jungkook would never kill you. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

It was then that Jimin’s loud cry of laughter broke through the silence, his calls for Yoongi echoing out from the living room as he laughed along with Taehyung.

“You should go.” You whispered, stepping towards your bed.

“You shouldn’t.” He responded. “Stay with Taehyung as long as you can, I’ll talk to Jungkook.”

You nodded, because it was really all you could do.

You heard his footsteps walk towards the door, before he turned around and eyed you, an expression of desperation crossing his face.

“Please… don’t tell Jimin.”

Your heart throbbed at the pure agony shining in his eyes. It was the rawest and most open you’d ever seen him.

“I won’t, I promise.”

As if you’d ever willingly make someone suffer like that. As if you’d ever make someone feel how you currently felt.

Lost.

......

You still felt confused, and afraid. What had Yoongi meant when he’d said there was a lot you didn’t know? He had seemed so sure that Jungkook wasn’t waiting to sink his teeth into your neck at the next chance he got.

What really got you, was the fact that sweet Jimin was dating a fucking vampire.

Honestly, what type of world did you truly live in?

Yoongi had said that he would talk to Jungkook, yet about what you weren’t exactly sure. What was there to talk about anyways? Was he going to ask Jungkook not to kill you? Was Jungkook going to kill you?

A stead headache soon turned into a pounding migraine, and you groaned into your pillow in defeat. You were sick of being looked over, being left with nothing except more questions the longer time went on. There was still so much to figure out, so much to do. And you knew you weren’t going to sit around like an easy target for that stupid bloodsucker. Hell no.

If there was one thing you knew in the mess of craziness in your life, was that you wanted answers and you wanted them now.

Luckily, you knew just where to find them.

#bts scenario #bts au #jungkook scenario #jungkook au #bangtan scenarios #bts vampire au #jungkook vampire au #bts #bangtan #jeon jungkook #angst #only a little #smut will come later #jk is not bad i promise lmao #give it time

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female-fogbank · 6 years ago

Note

Garcy Prompt: when team came back from another mission turned out that there's a three-years old child who's calling Lucy and Flynn as his parents and really confused by their shocked reaction.

I’m terrible at short stories they just explode into multi-chapter story… two chapter are up. (Read on AO3 here)

Consequences: Chapter 1

Just unbelievable.” Lucy said angrily as she so mad at Wyatt she was shaking to the point that she could barely get her seat belt on and when he tried to help her she smacked his hands away. “Don’t, you’ve done enough damage today.” she growled at him, Wyatt pulled away with his hands up in surrender.

“I said I was sorry.” Wyatt told her, not letting go even though Flynn and Rufus wished he would.

“Oh because ‘sorry’ is going to fix what you’ve done!? Do you even realise what you’ve done?” she asked him incredulously as she managed to snap in one of the four belts into the jack. But she was struggling to get the others in as her eyes were blurry with tears. She was tired of missions where History was changed dramatically. Today was one of her top three worst missions. She was a fried wreck, her hands and knees scrapped from being pushed down out of the line of fire. A historical figure killed before her time, before she even got to leave her mark.

“It was an accident.” Wyatt said, his voice rising as if it would help his cause.

“You shot Claudette Colvin.” Lucy told him in a dark tone.

“There’s still that other one.” Wyatt argued, Lucy was flabbergasted at how after two years of this Wyatt still ran through history like a bull in a china shop. He had zero respect for her as he couldn’t even remember a small relevant piece of history.

“Oh my god!” Lucy felt like she was losing her mind. “Rosa Parks! Does everything I say go through one ear and out the other?” She asked him. Wyatt shook his head at her dramatics.

“It was still an accident, I was aiming for Emma and Claudette got in the way. These things they happen in the field.” Wyatt said calmly but to her ears it sounded so blasé. Lucy opened her mouth but before she could start Flynn spoke.

“Lucy, it can’t be undone.” He said in a placating and calm manner. He unbuckled his belt and reached across to hers. She didn’t smack his hand away as she was ready to cry and he was right. “Just because Claudette Colvin is dead, doesn’t mean Rosa Parks won’t still do what she has to. She may do it on her own not because she was inspired by Claudette’s actions. History sometimes works out in it’s own mysterious way.” Flynn said in a reassuring manner, he snapped the belt together before he finished.

“Yet I’ve spent so long trying to explain over and over, every single mission” she looked at Wyatt with daggers in her eyes. “How important it is to not destroy history! Now! You’ve set civil rights for African Americans back for god knows how long!” She shouted at Wyatt. In the small space it was loud enough to make everyone wince.

“Rittenhouse-“ Wyatt started but Lucy cut him off.

“Oh no, no” she told Wyatt. “You don’t get to justify or excuse yourself. I don’t want to talk to you.” She informed him, she pointed at him as he opened his mouth to argue. “No, don’t even open your mouth. Breathe through your nose.” She ordered.

“I’d do it.” Flynn advised Wyatt.

“I’m buckled in. Can we please we go home?” Lucy asked as she pulled on her skirt and tried to put her mind off the past events.

“Yep.” Rufus said as he closed the hatch, Lucy closed her eyes; she felt the tears run down her face. She didn’t care, she just wanted to go home and forget today ever happened. She gripped the edge of her chair as she hated this part of time travel. The turbulence and the sound of the chains running on the outside. The Lifeboat shook and, in a few seconds, it was over they were back.

Lucy opened her eyes and looked over at Flynn, he wore a pensive expression. He unbuckled his seat, Lucy undid her own and turned her chair around. The hatch opened, her jaw dropped as Jiya came over with the stairs. It wasn’t the act that had her shocked.

It was Jiya’s hair. It was cut to her collarbone and blonde. Her fashion was still the same with exception of the gun strapped to her thigh, it made Lucy wonder what other changes they were in for.

“Hey, how did it go?” Jiya asked with a smile.

“Ah, bad.. Claudette Colvin died.” Lucy said a little dazed as she was reeling. The blonde hair looked good but it was such a shock. She got out of her chair and walked down the stairs. “Your hair.” She said was now on firm grown.

“What about it? I tried to your beach waves my hair hates curling. Who’s Claudette Colvin?” Jiya asked casually as she stepped back and waited for the others to come out.

“Whoa, what’s with the Blond?” Wyatt asked, Jiya’s response was not kind. She drew her weapon and pointed it at Wyatt. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “What the hell?” he demanded.

“What the hell is this?” Jiya demanded as she looked to Lucy to explain herself.

“What’s the hold up?” Flynn asked as he came out of the lifeboat. It was so old hat that home was safe that he hadn’t even noticed what was going on until he was at the bottom step. His eyes went wide at Jiya’s hair and the gun in Wyatt’s face. Though after their day, Flynn didn’t have much of a problem with that. “Ok.” He said slowly, he kept his hands in the open as he moved out from behind Wyatt as he didn’t want to be in Jiya’s firing line.

“Lucy, Flynn. What is going on? Why is he here? How is he here?” She demanded just as confused as they are.

“It’s Wyatt.” Lucy said.

“Yeah, Wyatt Logan the traitor, Taliban terrorist who is linked to the Washington bombings? Oh, yeah everyone knows this douche bag.” Jiya said as she glared at Wyatt.

“Hey, I’m not a terrorist.” Wyatt said as he kept his hands up.

“Mommy!” a little voice yelled with glee. Lucy saw a tiny little girl in denim overalls and red and white stripe sweater race at them from the kitchen area; holding an orange in her hands.

“Holly, stay back!” Jiya ordered but the girl didn’t listen as he raced straight into Lucy’s legs; nearly toppling her over. But she managed to stay upright as the little girl hugged her legs. The orange had hit the floor and rolled.

“Mommy! You’re home.” The little girl A.K.A. Holly said with glee, her pigtails bounced as she looked up at Lucy with big, beautiful hazel eyes and a grin with missing a couple of teeth. She had Lucy dark brown hair and it was almost like looking at her younger self. She had seen her baby pictures and her as kid, but the nose was just a little different as was her hairline.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, Holly. I’m not your mommy.” Lucy told Holly as gently as she could. She tried to pry her from her legs.

“Mommy.” She giggled and squirmed as if Lucy was tickling her. “You’re my mommy.” She announced loudly as she thought it was a game.

“No, I’m not.” Lucy assured her as Jiya was telling Wyatt to surrender his weapons slowly to Flynn.

“Yes, you are.” Holly told Lucy.

“No, I’m not.” Lucy said a little firmer, her heart beating erratically as her day was already tough and now she had this little girl attached to her leg calling her mother.

“Yes, you are!!” Holly said louder and more adamantly as she didn’t think it was funny anymore. She clearly thought if she shouted it louder, it would make it true.

“Help.” Lucy said looking to the others.

“Really? You don’t have a gun in your face.” Wyatt said, he passed his gun off to Flynn as Jiya seemed to trust Flynn more than him. Holly detached herself from Lucy, she picked up her orange and ran over to Flynn and latched onto his leg. She leaned back and held her orange up to him.

“Daddy! Mommy’s being mean.” Holly announced with pout. Lucy’s jaw dropped yet again as she looked at Flynn. He wore a bemused expression as this entire situation was bewildering. She realised in that moment where the little girl’s green eyes and nose came from.

“What is going on out here?” Rufus asked as he finished his post flight check. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at the scene. “Jiya?” Rufus asked in disbelief.

“Oh my god! Rufus?” Jiya breathed in disbelief, tears filled her eyes. Wyatt decided stupidly to take advantage of her distraction and went for the gun. But it did not end well as Jiya had him on the floor with her knee in his back, gun to his head and his arm pulled at an unnatural angle. Wyatt groaned in pain, face in the concrete. “I swear to god, I will paint the floor with your brains if you try anything stupid. Capisce?” she asked him in a dark and promising tone.

“Got it.” Wyatt said in a pained voice.

“Do it again, Auntie Jiya!” Holly cheered as she bounced on her feet and giggled.

“What is going on here?!” Rufus demanded again.

“Daddy, naranča.“ Holly said as she held up her orange to him. She stepped onto his shoe and grabbed onto his leg to try and reach up to him. Flynn looked down at her, his heart flipped a beat as he just knew this little girl was his. She looked so similar to Iris and yet so much like a tinier version Lucy it left him shaken.

Old wounds re-opened as he thought of Iris, then this little girl like a mirage of ‘what could be’, she was perfect and cute as a button. Her once Croatian word, just touched him as he hadn’t spoken or heard someone speak his native tongue in years. He swallowed and cleared his throat.

“One second.” He told her, Holly stepped down and back a step as she held the orange in her hand waiting patiently. He moved to the staircase and quickly dismantled Wyatt’s gun, placing the pieces down. He made certain the safety on his weapon was on. He would’ve removed it but he was concerned by Jiya carrying a weapon on her. He holstered his gun and moved to Holly.

The little girl that reminded him of Iris but at the same time looked like a small Lucy held her arms up. It gave him incredibly mix of emotions as he lifted her up into his arms. Holly held the orange in her hands. She looked at him. “Can we eat the Naranča now?” she asked.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He said as he walked them into the living area. The place looked the same as they had left it except there were toys and books. Historical biographies for kids mostly. He went to the couch and set Holly down. She waited until he was down on the couch before she crawled into his lap and held out the orange. “So, do we always eat a Naranča when I come home?” he asked as he took the orange.

“Yep, always.” Holly replied as she leaned back against him and watched him peel the skin off the orange. Flynn couldn’t help but smile at how much she looked like her mother.

“Jiya, please let Wyatt go.” Lucy pleaded, Jiya threw her an incredulous look.

“Hell no, this dirtbag is going in the brig. Then we’ll talk as clearly something is wrong here especially when you’re bringing dead terrorists home.” She said with a girlish smile.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Lucy told Wyatt as Jiya was strong arming him down the hallway.

“Really?” Wyatt asked her angrily. He growled in pain as Jiya twisted his arm to encourage him to keep walking.

“Jiya, listen to me. Claudette Colvin died before she brought could fight for civil rights of African Americans and challenge the law that led to segregation recognised as an unconstitutional. The case won and was one of the leading factors that helped abolish segregation in America.” Lucy told her.

“Are you saying you’re from an alternate timeline?” Jiya asked them, as she kept walking and pushing Wyatt forward.

“I – I don’t know.” Lucy said honestly.

“We haven’t figured that part out yet.” Rufus said honestly.

“But the point is, in our timeline; Wyatt is a highly decorated Delta Force operator. He’s been on our team since the beginning, two years ago. He’s not a terrorist. He’s the good guy.” Lucy explained to Jiya. Jiya laughed and shook her head.

“The team formed over three years ago. This guy, bombed the capital and killed 150 people 9 years ago, He nearly killed the Obamas. So, excuse me if I would feel a little more comfortable with this guy behind bars.” Jiya said frankly.

“Hey, I’m not a terrorist.” Wyatt argued.

“Tell it to the wall.” Jiya said as she shoved him into the cell. She closed the door before Wyatt could get a chance. She locked the door and pocketed the keys. She turned to Lucy and Rufus. “This woman Claudette Colvin affected the future slash present. You’re from a different possibly original timeline?” Jiya asked.

“Yes.” Lucy said as she looked to Wyatt who was losing his mind as he paced the cell steaming quietly in anger.

“Is Trump President?” Rufus asked.

“No, Bernie Sanders is in. Why is that relevant?” Jiya asked him.

“It’s not. I was curious.” Rufus said.

“If you’re all from a different timeline then what is real?” Jiya asked them.

“This is real.” Lucy said as she knew the fact was they couldn’t go back and save Claudette Colvin. They were stuck with this new reality unless another solution came but Lucy was still reeling from everything.

“No, we’re going to fix it.” Wyatt told them.

“How? We can’t travel into our timeline or to where we’ve been twice.” Lucy reminded him, Wyatt’s face pinched in a dark manner.

“We did it to get Rufus.” He said.

“In an upgraded Lifeboat, I still haven’t figure out how to calculate the variables to make that happen.” Rufus told him, he looked Jiya who was grief stricken. “What?” he asked softly as he hated seeing her in pain.

“You died trying to travel into your own timeline. To prove it could be done. You came back in pieces.” Jiya said, it was written in her expression that it still haunted her. She couldn’t handle the thought. “I can’t stand here while you all discuss whether this present is valid or not.” She told them, she shook her head and walked away.

Rufus tried to follow her, but Wyatt reached through the bars and grabbed him by the shirt.

“You guys, we have to fix this.” He told them, Rufus pulled his hand off him and stood outside of his grasp.

“No, I gotta fix that.” Rufus said as he gestured in the direction Jiya had gone. “And after everything we’ve learnt while time travelling, not everything can fixed. Before we can even discuss that, we have to know all the facts.” Rufus added.

“He’s right.” Lucy told Wyatt. “Just sit tight, Rufus and I will figure this out.” She said, she pulled Rufus and they started walking away.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked Lucy in a low voice when they were out of Wyatt’s hearing.

“I don’t know.” She said.

“You and Flynn have a kid.” Rufus said in a low voice.

#garcy #timeless #timeless fanfiction

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