#can it not... i did not ask for sideburns... i am meant to be the beardless boy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sonkitty · 11 months ago

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The Sideburns Scheme Post #8 v2

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 1, The Arrival, finding out Gabriel is in the bookshop

I like my old post too much to just flat out edit it. Plus, I'm so excited to answer some of my own questions even though I can't be too sure of everything. Here's the old one if you wish to see.

In a way, I am re-visiting it, but I'm also redoing some parts.

All that said, let's dig in.

What do we learn from the sideburns?

They are both long.

It has taken me an absurdly long time to catch on, but generally speaking, the left sideburn will have less hair or fullness to match the often intended "lighter" side of Crowley's hair. The story seems to favor making the color brighter on the left side of his head. Instead of making a sideburn brighter, the sideburn is styled with less hair to look more light.

If I'm reading this scene properly, the left sideburn increases in fullness between after the cut from when Crowley takes off his sunglasses and walks toward a more centered area of the bookshop floor.

The left sideburn is probably still more light in amount of hair than the right, but it is notably thick compared to everything the story has showed up to this point. The right sideburn is thick as well, but we saw a similar thickness earlier when Crowley answered the phone by the Bentley.

Crowley says, "You'll never guess who Shax was asking me about."

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, in the direction of where we assume Crowley's presence is, and he says, "Yes, I think perhaps I will."

Here are some thoughts to toy with.

In all of season 2, how many times did we see Crowley and Aziraphale cross the threshold together with no other angel already inside?

Never. They crossed twice with Gabriel already inside, once in episode 1 and once in episode 2. We assume they crossed together at some point after episode 4 ended because they were walking toward the threshold. Even if they did, Crowley's sideburns were staying their length at that point.

How many times were Crowley and Aziraphale on the main bookshop floor with just the two of them?

Twice. Crowley entered from the stairs as Aziraphale was preparing for the ball in episode 5. Aziraphale entered from the threshold to the building in episode 6.

How long were Crowley's sideburns those times?

They were not as short as (usually) around as humans and not as long as when Crowley is around Gabriel.

The story never tells us if Crowley would already be having longer sideburns around Aziraphale that are not as long as they get around Gabriel when only Crowley and Aziraphale are on the bookshop main floor.

Does Crowley need a mirror to know if the sideburn length changed?

We can only guess. His drive after his visit from Hell makes a point to remind us the mirror is there, just in case he does need one. Those "two minutes" from the call Aziraphale made...that might have meant, or included, Crowley needed two minutes for them to shorten "properly" (for lack of a better word).

Is the effect intentional?

Crowley is supposed to be able to change his appearance as he pleases. Since I'm led to believe he is intentionally creating his own space at the park and intentionally using his knowledge about them on how to handle Shax's call and intentionally letting them shorten even on his drive to the coffee shop, it seems they are related to how he manages his own space, at least when it comes to the Bentley and sitting in the park. I never mentioned this on Shax's call, but Crowley can see his reflection in the phone.

At the same time...we don't see this type of management from Aziraphale for Aziraphale's own space. The current space is Aziraphale's, not Crowley's, even if Crowley is welcome in it, and it is like a secondary home base to him.

It seems there is something more that these sideburns do that I can't quite figure out and keep guessing is related to memory.

Whatever that extra something is, memory or not, this sideburn effect is NOT to alert Crowley, "Gabriel is nearby! Gabriel is nearby!"

It alerts us but not him. Aziraphale is way beyond needing an alert by this point.

That look from Aziraphale, that could be a recognition that the sideburns are that long on Crowley because yes, Gabriel is truly inside the bookshop with them, and his anxiety about the situation is further confirmed.

Is the brighter red streak visible?

Oh yes. This scene wants you to know it's there despite the dim lighting of the scene itself. We get close enough views multiple times.

Is the hairstyle different from the present day Crowley scene before it?

Yes, it is quite different actually though we don't see it as much from the top as from the front. The sideburns are longer for a start, but it's also become more collected and tidy. The top front swoops further upward, like it did in earlier scenes, with a little tilt and curve to Crowley's right.

Additional Notes:

If you thought I was having fun toying with questions above, wait until you see this.

There is so much going on with this scene, but I guess I should focus on hair first.

Now, I didn't go over the "Before the Beginning" scene at the start because I'm more interested in the "present day" scenes and not interested enough for the others, well, to make posts about them anyway. However, that scene exists and showed us an angel who eventually becomes Crowley. That character had long sideburns. As I'm comparing while drafting this post, I think that angel's sideburns were not quite as long as the sideburns shown in this scene. So, the sideburns were maybe more like the length when we saw Crowley at his own threshold with the Bentley.

Oh, here's the fun bit, for me!

~Start me responding my own questions of original post~

So, why does Gabriel's presence make Crowley's sideburns long for the audience to see? None of the other characters react to his sporadic hair changes, sideburn length changes or not, and Crowley himself never shows an awareness it's happening either. But we get to see it.

Ah, but you see, my past self, two characters do react. Crowley does have an awareness, as does Aziraphale. They are both just very deliberately subtle about it. They never verbally say it, but they look, and they act with intention to them, I am reasonably sure.

If the Metatron is editing the Book of Life, why is he telling us about Crowley's constant hairstyle changes and care so much given the utter contempt in a single glare at Crowley we see in episode 6? Is he that obsessed?

If this is some tremendously twisted literary battle within a book between Crowley, Aziraphale, and the Metatron, they are taking advantage of the fact that the Metatron is probably going to have no clue about physical human appearance and that sideburns do not behave this way on mortals.

Otherwise, well, this just plain isn't the Metatron editing the Book of Life.

I mean, personally speaking, I think the Book of Life is hidden as that matchbox somehow because that is a very risky yet possibly clever way to hide it from Michael or Heaven in general. Not strong in that thought, just...where I am.

But anyway...

These are GUESSES, which I will say repeatedly. I am nowhere near as sure on these guesses as I am on the "space matters for these sideburns!" thing.

If the Metatron's not editing it to that extent, who/what wrote it initially to that extent?

Current findings suggest...Crowley and Aziraphale. They co-wrote this story...for us and/or each other. That's why we have a mix of Aziraphale's romance fantasy and Crowley's spy fantasy. Crowley even tries to play match-maker for Aziraphale while Aziraphale gets into the spirit of being an investigative reporter (not quite the same as spying, but still, seeking intel, figuring things out, etc). The Metatron might be some kind of invasive editor or opponent due to how it ends.

If the characters are trapped in a time loop that keeps resetting to create the story we're given, why are the sideburns reacting based on character presence and space but with little acknowledgment of chronology?

My current guess...it is not a time loop. It is a very thorough edit or possibly a few more edits. At least one story happened once that involved the box, Gabriel, and the Book of Life. Beelzebub may have been involved too with the end result or intention being to help those two get a happy ending.

Crowley and Aziraphale went back and took some specific things out, replacing them with specific other things in ways only they should be able to understand between each other. It can't be too much different because then it loses too much meaning to the reader(s).

Problems arose with the Metatron breaking into the story. He also made some edits.

If memories are being stitched together to create a new story, why don't those memories care about such an obvious inconsistency?

Current guess: If that is what is happening, they do care. They are supposed to be noticed as part of the messages between Crowley and Aziraphale. The Metatron will hopefully not understand, but he is trying if his mimicry of their behavior is any clue.

Is it a key to direct the memories on what to do? He's not in every scene!

Current guess: More like a key for what they were, at least between those two (if that is their function, they seem vastly more related to space as I study this stuff).

Sure, Crowley can change how he looks whenever he wants for whatever reason he wants, but like...is this subconscious?

Current guess: Somewhat, but he likely initiated it on purpose and took things from there.

Who, in this fictional world, is trying to tell us what they mean?

Crowley and Aziraphale, so we can enjoy their story as they sort it all out.

And you know, what do they mean?

Still working on that, but it's helping Crowley manage his space when he is in or around his car at the very least. There's something more I still can't figure out because they must be doing more than that, especially when it comes to Aziraphale's space.

When I ask seriously in my head "Why Crowley? What's so special about him, besides my own current obsession, but within the context of this story?" the first thing that leaps to mind is the continual hints about his past angel status and most specifically the hint that Crowley was a "first order" archangel. Gabriel is almost always referred to as the "Supreme Archangel," not a "first order" archangel. However, in episode 6, "first order" are the words Gabriel uses when the camera pans to Crowley's face. I don't think "first order" is used any other scene.

So, maybe Crowley was a past first order archangel before his fall and maybe that's going to matter at some point.

Plus, you know, that past angel had long sideburns.

I am still in this same place of thought.

All the "why" rambling aside, I think it also relates to the space Crowley shares with Aziraphale in the given context of this scene. The bookshop is "technically" Aziraphale's bookshop, but Crowley is always welcome in it. However, Gabriel's presence changes the meaning of that space, not for the entirety they are in it throughout the story but enough that the longer sideburns are always on if there is going to be a scene of just Crowley and Gabriel or just Crowley, Aziraphale, and Gabriel. All such scenes take place in the bookshop from start to finish of the season.

I am about as sure I can be that it relates to the space as a type of home base for Crowley. I am not as clear on how length is supposed to mix with character relations. I am leaning toward rank, memory, or both...and/or supernatural existence since "short" is strongly associated with being around humans or a supernatural entity acting human.

Once humans get involved later with the ball, the medium or long sideburns will actually alternate depending on what is happening in the presented story.

I am going to point out as well, the sideburns can and do slightly foreshadow what I've ended up calling qualifying encounters. They are long before Crowley knows Gabriel is there. And they are there, in my assumption, because this is a scene that has Crowley, Gabriel, Aziraphale, and no one else, in the bookshop.

I have stopped thinking of things as qualifying encounters. Sideburn lengths have activation points based on space and character presence. From there, they lengthen or shorten depending on movement or lack thereof (stillness). Muriel threw me off because I didn't grasp how literally the bookshop as a space took their claim to be human.

An extra note: Despite my theories on the story, I don't think it's all Crowley and Aziraphale POV or completely their story. There's too much from everyone else to be quite like that.

~End me responding my own questions of original post~

Non-hair things:

This scene is fascinating. Crowley is terrified instantly. We've seen him terrified before but that included trying to stay composed nonetheless when it came to Hastur and Ligur and not being able to really run when Satan was coming. This context is different, and Crowley is caught completely off-guard, also unusual. Aziraphale had been confused and only took a step back when Gabriel asked to come in. Crowley doesn't have that chance, so he has to just instantly back away.

There is zero doubt in Crowley's head that this being is Gabriel with something having happened to him whereas earlier Aziraphale told Gabriel who knew someone who looked a lot like him. I mean, I'm sure Aziraphale was relatively sure himself, but he gave and acknowledged that inkling of doubt, that there could be something else.

Not Crowley though.

And even though Beelzebub later refers to the fly holding all of Gabriel's memories as "all your you", we know bare minimum there are some things in this being that Crowley, and only Crowley, was able to tap into. That "institutional problem" part sounded like a little bit of Gabriel's actual memory to me, no purple eyes needed for it either.

This scene continues with blocking and blurring for who is on screen. The characters interact but are blurred at times when supposedly on screen together. A lot of times only one of the characters is on screen, the audience left to assume it's because of distance and focus of who's talking or reacting. This entire scene is Aziraphale, Crowley, and Gabriel yet all three are never on screen at the same time. When Gabriel shows up, the blur switches between him and Crowley, ensuring both are not clear when we see them briefly in the same part of the scene together.

Tag: crowley s2 hair project

Crowley S2 Hair Project - Main Point of Reference for Sideburns

Crowley S2 Hair Post #10 (angry lightning walk

#crowley s2 hair project #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #david tennant #crowley

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ypokosmo-theos · 1 year ago

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emmetrain:

There was someone after all. The unrest within his soul got worse instead of lessening–the itch to do something, be useful in whichever way possible -though it would be futile- was almost overwhelming.

( God, he was losing his mind.)

Millenia? Emmet was used to taking words literally. Too literally, in fact. But with every “I will call you once I have a tip”, and every “I care about your brother”, every lie, every pleasantry that was never truly meant–he was inclined not take it at face value now. Not anymore. It felt like a bleeding wound upon his very soul, for a humans such as he who valued the truth and even chose to make it his name, “Emmet”, he could not even believe in the words spoken without doubting, without bracing himself for lies in every turn.

With the person he challenged stepping out of the shadows, Emmet’s stomach churned–his eyes narrowed. The peculiar clothes were not with a criminal organization attached. The appearance was far from normal, even of those with the fashion that deemed normal a mortal enemy. So, why? Why did he still take a step forward, and attach the pokeballs back to his belt–his only defense, really, with how spent and exhausted the trainwreck of a body was. A state so tragic that back in his mind, he had to laugh.

Had he always been this weak? Nothing on his own. Nothing even when he should have fought with everything he had.

The amused smile, though horrifying given the circumstances, also calmed him enough not to head straight into the tracks of a battle.

“You, I have not questioned. Maybe, you will be the only one that can tell me the truth. I am looking for someone.” Emmet took another step forward, and reached to his pocket to open a poster that had been neatly folded–too new, possibly printed on that day. Every day ended with tears ruining the poster of the day, and to the pieces it would go as his hope went up in flames.

The missing poster had the picture of someone with the same grey hair, and same, unique sideburns the exhausted form had shared. Someone in black clothing, frowning through the picture–was he disappointed that Emmet was failing him yet again? … Of course. Of course he was. Emmet darted his eyes away from the judging gaze of the photograph.

“Have you seen this man? Subway Boss Ingo. He is from Unova, last seen in Nimbasa City. He…” Emmet took off his mask– cracks in his skin darkening the corners of the sickly smile on his face. “He is my twin brother. We are identical twins. So you might have seen me, but it may not be him that you saw–it’s… It is verrrry complicated, at time. Please stay on the line. I… I need to know.”

It wasn’t hard for the deity to sense the deepening darkness growing in the man before him. How close was he to breaking? He could almost taste the madness that this man was facing and was growing evermore curious about what exactly he’d gone through to reach this state. What exactly had he lost to break him to this point? The god of darkness was rather intrigued now, wanting this mystery to be solved. Perhaps it was his own growing influence over this man that drew him to this cave to begin with? He couldn’t be sure yet.

Hades watched the human put away those strange balls and cants his head a bit in interest. Perhaps the world has changed far more than he assumed. Strange how this man had assumed that they would be able to protect him should the god have been a hostile enemy. Another curiosity to add to this bizarre human. Perhaps later he could ask so that mystery would be solved as well. For now, he waited ever patient as the other stepped forward and spoke up. Tell him the truth was it? That would be no problem.

“Ask away young one, gods can only speak truths.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully at the poster produced from the other’s pocket. Was it a self portrait? No... While subtle the god could see the differences between the image and the man bearing it. Twins then. It was confirmed when Emmet speaks again and further affirmed at the removal of the mask. Sure, the man before him looked worse for wear than the one in the poster but it was easy enough to see.

“Though you shall not like my answer but I have not seen this man... He still yet lives. Where, though, is another matter entirely. Given you are here in such a remote part of the world though tells me you have exhausted most leads."

Hades knew this answer would break the man before him further and something in him disapproves of this. It was true however that this Ingo was not yet buried within the earth and still walked it somewhere, still linked so with his twin. While yes he was so close to losing his mind and completely falling into his realm of darkness he did not wish to see such a fighting spirit broken so completely. After a few more seconds of silence the god comes to a decision and takes just a few more steps closer to the other, gaze far softer than before and smile more sympathetic.

“I have decided to offer my aide young one... Tell me more the circumstances of his disappearance so I may discern the truth for you.”

ypokosmo-theos:

How long had the god slept this time? How many years had passed? He knew not this answer and didn’t feel inclined to try and discover it. It mattered not after all. Nothing will have changed so drastically that he would be surprised by it. Certainty in his mind about this is what he felt as he’d begun to exit his deep grotto within the ancient cave system. He’d left it a few times already just to investigate but always he returned to his home before too long. Hades paused near the entrance to the tunnel that led to his grotto, feeling a great amount of darkness approaching. Someone close to losing their mind he imagined. That was a bit of a surprise actually since normally humans would send those so close to madness to their doctors to try and heal them. So then, what was this one doing so far out in the wilderness he wondered. Hearing the command nearly has him giving out a chuckle but not quite. It was more an exhale of amusement. “No one has tried to order me to do something in millennia. Intriguing...”

Deciding to investigate this person further, the deity stepped forward from the shadows of the cave. What Emmet would see is a lithe pale man with hair long enough to pool around his feet though it was neat and clean as if dirt was repelled by it. His clothing, if you could call it that, was form fitting black that had long fluffy fur on the shoulders, a deep V-neck went to the man’s waist but it looked as if the ‘clothes’ were a part of the man. A pair of obsidian black eyes peered out at Emmet, taking in all his details with an amused smile on his face. However, all this was nothing compared to the strange man’s horns and ears, features which seemed to shift and change in appearance as if they were shadows from a tree in motion from the wind. “You are a bold one, I will give you that. So then, I am here, what ever shall you do now?”

There was someone after all. The unrest within his soul got worse instead of lessening--the itch to do something, be useful in whichever way possible -though it would be futile- was almost overwhelming.

( God, he was losing his mind. )

Millenia? Emmet was used to taking words literally. Too literally, in fact. But with every "I will call you once I have a tip", and every "I care about your brother", every lie, every pleasantry that was never truly meant--he was inclined not take it at face value now. Not anymore. It felt like a bleeding wound upon his very soul, for a humans such as he who valued the truth and even chose to make it his name, "Emmet", he could not even believe in the words spoken without doubting, without bracing himself for lies in every turn.

With the person he challenged stepping out of the shadows, Emmet's stomach churned--his eyes narrowed. The peculiar clothes were not with a criminal organization attached. The appearance was far from normal, even of those with the fashion that deemed normal a mortal enemy. So, why? Why did he still take a step forward, and attach the pokeballs back to his belt--his only defense, really, with how spent and exhausted the trainwreck of a body was. A state so tragic that back in his mind, he had to laugh.

Had he always been this weak? Nothing on his own. Nothing even when he should have fought with everything he had.

The amused smile, though horrifying given the circumstances, also calmed him enough not to head straight into the tracks of a battle.

"You, I have not questioned. Maybe, you will be the only one that can tell me the truth. I am looking for someone." Emmet took another step forward, and reached to his pocket to open a poster that had been neatly folded--too new, possibly printed on that day. Every day ended with tears ruining the poster of the day, and to the pieces it would go as his hope went up in flames.

The missing poster had the picture of someone with the same grey hair, and same, unique sideburns the exhausted form had shared. Someone in black clothing, frowning through the picture--was he disappointed that Emmet was failing him yet again? ... Of course. Of course he was. Emmet darted his eyes away from the judging gaze of the photograph.

"Have you seen this man? Subway Boss Ingo. He is from Unova, last seen in Nimbasa City. He..." Emmet took off his mask-- cracks in his skin darkening the corners of the sickly smile on his face. "He is my twin brother. We are identical twins. So you might have seen me, but it may not be him that you saw--it's... It is verrrry complicated, at time. Please stay on the line. I... I need to know."

#emmetrain #;v: main #//i'm glad you're excited for this :D cause i am too~#//also Hades just up and admitting he's a god #//gives no shits lol #//then again it's not like he can lie about such a thing.

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tooruswhre · 2 years ago

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calling them by their last name !

w/ shoyo hinata , tobio kageyama , hajime iwaizumi and toru oikawa.

first blog for another fandom :]. i have no clue why kageyama’s is the longest. i literally made his last

✷ kageyama !

tobio had just finished a few laps around the gym perimeter before nearly collapsing next to you on the bleachers.

“here kagayama,” you say handing him your water bottle. you had noticed he didn’t bring anything besides his volleyball and his headphones to listen to music. and you being you, had always came prepared.

he didn’t hear what you had called him just a few seconds ago, the music blaring in his ears was to blame, “t— thanks,” tobio took a few deep breaths before unscrewing the cap and downing half the bottle. his black strands sticking to his forehead and his white tank top sticking to his body like glue.

“you’re welcome, kageyama.” you repeated, this time gaining his interest, he side eyed you before fully turning his body to get a good look at your facial expression.

the look on your face is one he never grew to recognize, were you mad at him?

“you good?” he huffed out, using the back of his hand to wipe off the sweat from his sideburns.

he’s used to hearing you say his first and last name, but the tone in your voice wasn’t something he liked at the moment.

“yeah i am, why wouldn’t i be?”

“you said my name weird.”

“i say it like i always do, kageyama.”

“okay. what’s up?” he questioned, clearly not buying your façade of a joke.

“nothing, i’m just messing with you,” you say with a laugh, running your hand through his damp strands.

✷ hinata !

the two of you were by the gym room’s vending machine when the thought of calling him ‘ hinata ‘ to mess with him popped up into your head. you requested for him to buy you a drink.

he did just that, despite you calling him by his last name, he still obliges doing what you asked of him. you raised an eyebrow as he hands you the can of sparkling water,

“thanks… hinata.” you emphasize more this time, “ you’re welcome y/n!” he said with his orbs still shining with a cute little smile on his face.

still not the reaction you were looking for, “actually, hinata? can you also get me a bag of chips too?” you request and he hums his response going back to the vending machine, “what kind?” , “ any kind!” you say as he presses the selection number pushing in a dollar and again, returning to you.

what the hell. is all you can think of when he has zero reaction, “sorry, what’d ya say?” the unsure smile on his face, his hand extended out for you to grab the bag from his hands.

“ do you not care?”

“care about what?”

“ me not calling you shoyo?”

“oh! i noticed, but it’s still my name so i didn’t mind it!”

✷ iwaizumi !

“ hey iwaizumi, can you hand me the notebook?” you request, pointing to the notebook next to him who was across the table.

you two would be in the library when you decided to pull a harmless prank. he ignores you, focusing in the book in his hands. you notice his eyebrows furrow and he bit the inside of his lip, in hopes to conceal his impending frustration.

“iwaizumi, i need the notebook— so i can see the notes that toru wrote earlier.” you pry, this time reaching out for the notebook with your hand pressed flat against the wooden table that was scattered with your study papers that looked nothing like his neat section. you can almost feel the grin on your face fade from his eyes, darting to yours with the most semi annoyed look within those olive green eyes.

“ go ask toru to come grab it for you,” he grumbled, going back to his page that you are sure he can’t even get past the first paragraph from your nagging. you stifled a chuckle as you slid back into your chair, a smile reclaiming it’s position back onto your glossy lips. it’s working, you thought. he mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t really make out. he rose from his chair, clamping the book shut,

“wait, wait, it’s a joke hima!” you revealed looking up at him, who’s eyes just barley meant yours, “it better be, i was about to go tear shittykawa into bits.”

✷ oikawa !

“thanks oikawa, this was really helpful.”

the two of you were in the living room of your shared apartment going over a school project that he offered to help with when he seen you were perplexed from the vague instructions, that luckily he cleared up for you.

he gave you a warm toothy smile, proud of himself that he could of use to you. when is he not? his childish antics always are beneficial, “you’re welcome y/— y/n did you just call me oikawa?!” the smile quickly dissipated from his thin redwood shaded lips, a pout taking place of it. he knew he heard right when you nearly blew your cover with a chuckle.

“why did you call me oikawa? were you just being sarcastic? was i not helpful to you?” the words flown in a haste from the stunned brown haired who eyes shown a hint of pain. it wasn’t that serious, “ you get called shitty-kawa from hajime.” you reminded him. he blinked, not once, but twice at your lips fixed to say iwaizumi’s name, but not his.

he falls back, clutching his red t shirt in direction of where his heart is. he groaned over exaggeratedly, “ god, my heart, what has my life come to? hajime? but not toru?!”

by this point, you couldn’t help but begin to laugh, holding your stomach from the pain as it tightened. you gained a blank look from the setter who is know sitting up to question your motives. “ what’s so funny y/n?! is my heartbreak also amusing to you too?!”

“ you— you dumbass, toru it was a joke! you seriously are a lost cause.” you joked as he smiled at hearing his name, the rest he didn’t bother listening to.

reblogs and shared are always appreciated <3 have something to recommend? tell me through asks!

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years ago

Note

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #narcos fic #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories

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lifeisjuicy92 · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, would you be willing to share some of the positive things Thomas had in the movie (you seem to have enjoyed the movie for Thomas). For example, him being butler, any cool lines or favorite scene/s?

Thank you for your ask! I must admit I was not fond of Thomas's storyline then I learned of the spoilers, but after seeing the movie twice, I am much more satisfied with it. Or calm at least.

This will contain major SPOILERS FOR DOWNTON ABBEY: A NEW ERA, so don't read further if you haven't seen the movie and want to remain free of spoilers.

I enjoyed the scene with Thomas and Mrs Hughes. Thomas tells her Richard Ellis is getting married. This was my number one fear with the movie; that it would somehow break up Thomas and Richard (I have never cared so much about a fictional ship before as I have with these two). Heartbreaking as this was for me to watch, I love that Mrs Hughes encourages Thomas to talk to her about what is upsetting him, and that he feels comfortable enough to be as open as he is to her. The relationship between Thomas and Mrs Hughes have always been one of my favorites, so it was nice to get this scene between them. I have always wished to see how the scene would have played out when Thomas talked to Mrs Hughes in s03e08 after the Jimmy incident, and this scene in the movie is how I imagined that conversation between them could have gone.

I like that Thomas was actually allowed to be the butler in this movie, and not showed to the side again like in the first movie.

Thomas leaving Downton was something I first struggled with. I was one of the people who liked that Thomas was made butler at Downton at the end of the series, and that he formed friendships and had a secure job. But as we see in the new movie, a lot of the staff is married (or soon to be) and don't live at Downton anymore. I can imagine this must be a lonely feeling for Thomas, seeing everyone around him being allowed to love and be with who they want. Maybe going with Guy Dexter to America will offer up a new chance for happiness for him. It's left very open-ended, but since this is possibly, probably, the last time we will see Thomas, I am choosing to believe he will have a great time in Hollywood and meet many interesting and like-minded people.

(In my head I imagine that he and Richard never really forget about each other, and after some years start to write to each other again and meet up and get together finally. But that's a different topic).

Speaking of Guy Dexter: I think he seems like a very nice man. I wish we could have had more scenes with him and Thomas, but I like that he seems very calm and he doesn't push Thomas into anything and tells Thomas this could mean as much or as little as he (Thomas) wants. Thomas saying “what?” then Dexter asks him to come to America with him is very endearing. The same when he says “I've done it” after handing in his resignation and the big smile he gives Dexter (I also like that Mary wished Thomas to be as happy as our cruel world allowes and the soft way Thomas says "thank you" and the music that starts to play).

Oh, and I also liked the hair and sideburns he had to wear when the servants got to be part of the movie; he looked both silly and very cute.

All in all not the story I really wanted for Thomas, but it is meant to be a happy one for him, and I hope it will be. A lot of the characters in Downton Abbey is moving on, and Thomas is one of them. As he said in season 4, he did find America to be very modern and very interesting.

#thomas barrow #downton abbey #downton abbey a new era #downton abbey spoilers #downton abbey a new era spoilers

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ladymercysletters · 4 years ago

Text

The Moment I Knew// Anthony Bridgerton - Chapter 1

Word Count : 1663

Warnings: none. [but it’s gonna get spicyy]

A/N: based on this request from @albeeox. This is going to be seven chapters long and it really gave me The Moment I Knew - Taylor Swift vibes so there we go ... enjoy :) Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

At the beginning of Season your mother had been frantic; it was your first season, but with an older sister still unwed after her fourth, she was adamant that you marry as soon as possible – to ‘make the most of your youth and beauty.’ Following your debut at court she had circled the floor with you at every ball, thrusting you into the arms of any unsuspecting gentleman who so much as smiled at you. Little did she know that your heart may already fully belong to another. Another whom you had known since you were both in leading strings, one who had tormented and teased you through your youth but had grown silent and stoic since the untimely death of his father.

You had first seen Anthony Bridgerton again at your debut. Despite the silence from her brother you had retained correspondence with Miss Daphne Bridgerton, and wished her luck as she walked past you on her way to the doors with her mother. You swallowed a deep breath as the doors were re-opened for you next; the scrutiny of the Court and accompanying families made you nervous but as you looked to the right you locked gazes with a pair of deep brown eyes you had not seen since you were 16. His eyes followed you on your way to the Queen, you could feel them burning into you as you watched her smile and bless you. Turning to exit you looked over and saw him again. His expression unreadable but his eyes just as fixed. You had not seen him in so many years but what was once a girls crush came flooding back right away as you tried to regain composure and look ahead of you.

The evening of your first Ball he didn’t approach you, having Daphne to accompany and guide, but you could feel his glare from across the room. Only when your mothers met in the middle to discuss any potential suitors did he bow and greet you like a gentleman. Taking the liberty of the distraction he asked how you were. Where once had been a carefree young man, he had been replaced by a stiff, conforming gentleman- head of his household and in keeping with societies expectations. That wasn’t the Anthony you had known. His façade loosened after Daphne joined your conversation, and completely crumbled when his two younger brothers intervened to come and poke fun at their big brother and his enormous sideburns; the smile you had known since childhood returning to his face as he gazed up at you laughing with his family.

You had always loved the big Bridgerton family, all of them feeling like an extension of your own. You had especially been friends with Benedict growing up, being closer in age to him and Colin, he always tried to protect you from his older brothers more bullish jesting; indeed, having no brothers of your own Benedict had adopted you as yet another sister to look after.

Looking back at Anthony you watched in fondness as his eyes crinkled at the sides with laughter at one of Colin’s drier japes, before flushing as he caught you staring at him. Despite the long glances you had been giving each other all evening, Colin Bridgerton was the first to offer his hand for a dance. Taking his arm, he escorted you to the floor where you joined the cotillion.

“Miss Y/N is a fine young woman is she not, brother?” Benedict asked, none too subtly. Anthony side eyed his with suspicion at the direction of the conversation.

“Yes, quite. I’m sure she will have no problem finding a match.” He gritted out, taking a sip of wine.

“It is a wonder then, you did not ask her to dance yourself, brother.” Benedict mocked, turning to face Anthony with a tilt to his head. That roughish smile that always preluded trouble graced his face as he turned back to watch the dance and sip his own wine.

“I do not dance.” Anthony said bluntly, finishing his glass. Just then he spotted his old school chum, Simon Bassett across the room, and left Benedict swiftly to greet him.

The following week you found yourself at Bridgerton House, having afternoon tea with Daphne Bridgerton and her mother. The warm spring was beginning to turn into summer and the younger Bridgerton’s, and Colin, had flung the French doors open and galloped onto the extensive lawn to run about. The Bridgerton’s had always had such fine sweets and cakes, all of them having a hereditary sweet tooth, and after a long tea you sat in peace discussing the next ball and the latest Whistledown. Only a short time after a footman disturbed you to inform the Ladies Bridgerton that a visitor had arrived for Miss Daphne. No sooner announced, than Lord Berbrooke broke into the room, his presence made all of you tense, and a little queasy, and as you took you leave of the room you sent a small, sorry, smile to Daphne.

You wandered the quiet halls of Bridgerton House before coming to the library. Slipping in you enjoyed the quiet and far away laughs of children, as your eyes scoured the bookshelves. You barely heard the door open before a gruff cough asserted that someone was behind you and you turned to see Anthony Bridgerton. He stood there, purposefully but without further words, giving you a chance to take him in. He had forgone his jacket in his own house; a look which, although proper, was still foreign and relaxed to your eyes, although your attire, sans jacket and gloves was surely the same. “Your Lordship.” You curtsied.

Anthony was dumb-struck. He hadn’t expected to walk into his own library and see you there; your hair in some sort of cascade down your neck as you look up at his extensive collection. He was midway through rolling up his shirt sleeve when he saw you, a glint of sun through the tall windows acting like a spotlight on your gown, you were just a beautiful as the last time he saw you. You had grown into an elegant lady, but the wild streak that had caused you all so much mischief in your youth was still there; if he looked dep enough. Snapping himself out of his trance he heard you speak. “Miss Y/N” he bowed “I did not realise you were still with us.”

“Yes. Your mother insisted I not leave on Lord Berbrooke’s account, and so I found my way here. I hope my presence here is not an inconvenience too you.”

“Of course not.” He said, moving around the table towards you “is there anything I can help you with?” You looked into his eyes for a moment as they held yours before turning back to the bookshelves.

“I am happy to browse Sir, I hardly know where to start.” You concluded, reaching out for a book on a high shelf. You struggled to reach it and stretched on the toes of your slippers to try. The warmth emanating from Anthony surrounded you as you felt him come close behind. He reached up over you and plucked the book from the shelf, lowering it down to your reach. His breath fanned across the back of your neck making your small hairs stand on end as goosebumps rippled over your flesh. Anthony tracked your reaction closely, not having meant to become this close to you but now finding himself unable to move. “Here.” He whispered, his lips almost grazing the shell of your ear “And please. Call me Anthony.” Your light scent was intoxicating to him and he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin onto his lips. He closed his eyes and drew a breath to steady himself, pulling back a little so he did not break his composure and overstep the mark.

Your head turned slightly at his words. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, his eyes burning into your skin and making you feel hot all over. As you reach up to take the book from him he let his hand graze down yours, his finger lightly trailing your un-gloved arm. “Anthony” you gasped in a breath; turning to face him. He was still so close to you, closer than any gentleman had been before, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It felt so right, having him close to you, his lips slightly parted as he drew a gentle breath – his cravat loose and shirt sleeves rolled up showing so much more skin than was proper, on refection. Your eyes trailed to a small triangle of chest hair, visible in the gap, your breath caught in your throat as you thought about what was under his shirt. Your eyes flicked up to meet his and he was already staring at you; a twinkle in his dark eyes letting you know he could read your mind.

Anthony brought a hand up to brush at the curls on your neck; gently pushing them off your shoulder and exposing the smooth skin of your collarbone to his gaze. Slowly, he leaned in and pressed a feather light kiss to the base of your neck. His lips, pillow soft, enflamed your skin and made your blood burn within you. He pulled back, ever so slowly, bringing his deep gaze back up to your eyes, gauging your reaction to his actions. The air was thick between you and you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on every inch of you skin twice over. Just as you wrestled your demons against leaning into the touch a shout from the parlour broke both of your attentions and made you both whip your heads around to the door left ajar.

“ANTHONY!!” Violet shouted for her son. He stepped back with a shake of his head, clearing the fog of your union and rushing to tend to his mother.

#Bridgerton #Bridgerton imagine #Bridgerton x reader #Anthony Bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton imagine #my writing #req #Anthony Bridgerton x reader

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miracul0us-multishipper · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Back - Interlude

Adrien centric. Basically an apology for all that chameleon induced salt I had on him during wttb.

Masterpost

Adrien sneaked a look outside. There was a gap between the panels that made up the background of the show, just large enough to peek out without being seen. It was quiet here, away from the bustling make-up artists and designers, hurrying to put finishing touches on their assigned models. His father wasn’t among them of course. He was Gabriel Agreste and didn’t need to improve anything, his designs long since perfected during late nights in his atelier. And he had full faith in his son!

(“I trust that you know how important this is,” he had said this morning, with face like marble, “how crucial it is to not lose face when working with the competition. I have no doubt you will behave accordingly.”)

Still. His happiness that his father had taken the time to build him up did not keep him from scanning the crowd for him. Was he there already? Or would he arrive in a way his mother called “fashionably late”?

Sighing, he turned away from the panels. He wasn’tsad that his father didn’t visit him before the show. Really, he had already talked to him only hours ago and was doubtlessly busy; Adrien shouldn’t be selfish.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was on his own.

“Are you nervous?”, he asked the other model when he returned to their private changing room. “There are so many people out there!”

Felix Leanne rolled his eyes, but his finger was tapping on the table relentlessly.

“Of course there are many people. Otherwise this whole ordeal wouldn’t be worth the hassle.”

“You’re dodging the question,” Adrien noted with a tiny hint of smugness. He liked Felix, even though he was a little cold sometimes. They had worked together often enough to be on friendly terms, both being the only models of each other’s age in their shoots. Both fairly isolated, both so busy.

Felix sighed.

“I’m not. Nervous, I mean. Just impatient.”

His eyes flitted towards the door.

“Mum… Mum said I can start accompanying her to work if I do well tonight. I’d get to see how everything actually works! I wrote down so many questions I want to ask. I just want to be able to askthem already.”

Adrien frowned.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be so interested in… company math?”

“We’re the same age, Adrien.”

“Exactly! The same youngage.” He couldn’t hold in a deep sigh. “If mymom offered to let me do anything I want, I would ask to go to a real school. No more homeschooling, just… doing something normal for once. I’d get to meet so many people, to make so many friends!”

Felix pretended to shudder.

“Ugh, people. Horrific.” He ignored Adrien’s giggling. “Seriously, they’re everywhere.”

“I bet you could go to school with me!” he, in turn, ignored Felix’ nagging. “Then we’d already know someone there. Plus Chloé, of course.”

Felix grimaced at the name but refrained from commenting. He’d learned that Adrien didn’t handle it well if you openly disliked his only friend. He wouldn’t have had the time, anyway, because just then a blur of oranges and yellows stormed into the room, carrying dozens of safety pins and wearing several dozens more clipped to her dress.

“Felix!”, Evelynn Leanne squealed, “you look wonderful, darling, navy blue just makes your eyes pop! Let me see the jacket, will you? Oh, this looks a little tight! It doesn’t chafe, does it? Does it?”

“Mum, stop it! Personal space, please.”

Felix pulled a face when his mother gave his jacket one last tug before stepping back.

“Of course, of course. It’s just… Ugh, you look adorable! Doesn’t he, Ms. Cess?”

The Leanne’s assistant, a round black woman that looked absolutely unshakable, gave Felix a small smile.

“He looks like a professional.”

Felix didn’t beam. Adrien was sure his face was physically incapable to. But the hint of a smile that graced his usually tight lips might be his version of that.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, before sobering up again. “Now, if you’d leave me to prepare? Also, I’m pretty sure you have more than one design to check up on.”

Evelyn sighed, just the way her son was prone to do.

“Let me have my moment, will you? But fine! I still haven’t heard any news from the missing accessory line, and that Sancœur lady was very adamant that it be complete. Good luck, Felix! You too, Adrien! Love your tie, by the way.”

He perked up immediately.

“Thank you, Madame Leanne!”, he tried to answer, but Felix was already hurrying her and Mademoiselle Cess out of the door. When they were gone, his coworker was leaning against the door in relief and Adrien’s throat felt weirdly tight.

“Sorry about that,” Felix said nonchalantly, “she’s been a little clingy since… you know.”

Of course. The divorce, he’d read about it in the newspaper. He couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to lose his father like that, how terrible Felix must feel.

“Are you okay?” the (slightly) older boy asked after a moment. “You were so quiet.”

Adrien shook his head, shushing those thoughts.

“Of course! Your mother is great, I just… Mine can’t be here today. She’s still not feeling well.”

An understatement, he feared. His father wouldn’t let him into her room to say goodbye before he went to the show. He was just worried, of course! And he’d explained it to him.

(“Don’t bother your mother now, Adrien. She needs her rest.”

“I just wanted to see her before the show. To say goodbye- “

His father flinched at that; his tone sharp.

“There’s no need to- She’ll still be here after the show! Don’t- Don’t let your nerves get the better of you.”

Then, a little softer: “You can talk to her tomorrow.”)

Felix looked at him through somber blue eyes.

“I’m… sorry to hear that. But your father will be here, yes?”

Hurrying to smile, Adrien nodded.

“Yes, we’ll drive home together.”

At that, Felix’ eyes narrowed.

“Uh… great? But before that he’ll want to see you, won’t he?”

To be honest, he was never quite sure what his father wanted. But that wasn’t what this was about, anyway!

“He is very busy,” Adrien explained. “Managing the Show, and all that. But that’s alright! It’s very important to him, and I’m happy to be part of it. It makes me feel… I don’t know, closer to him.”

Felix’ did not relent.

“But don’t you want him to say Good Luck or something? Surely, he can’t be thatbusy.”

“Well…” he admitted. “I… I did hope he’d come by. Like your mom always does. But I don’t want to be greedy! He’s needed elsewhere, probably.”

He straightened.

“Besides, I don’t want to complain to you. With all that… divorce business you’ve already got on your shoulders.”

It was a cheap trick to change the topic, but it worked. Felix scoffed and turned away.

“Oh please, I’m happymy Dad isn’t here. Not that he would care, anyway. I barely saw him even before Mum kicked him out, and what I saw of him was distant, dismissive and derogatory at best. Really, I could never see him again and not lose any sleep about it.”

Adrien couldn’t believe anyone could truly feel that way about their father. Sure, he was disappointed in his father from time to time, sometimes even angry. But he was still, well, his father.

“I’m sure he does love you.”, he tried to comfort his friend. “Maybe if you gave him another chance, he would- “

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Felix snapped, still not looking at him. “He had thirteen years’ worth of chances. I won’t let him… I won’t stand for that kind of inconsequence.”

With that, he straightened his shoulders and turned around.

“Besides, you’re hardly unbiased. It’s rather obvious you’re projecting.”

His voice was harsher than intended and it showed. No sooner than he said it, his eyes widened and he looked away.

“I… I meant…”

“I’m not projecting.”, Adrien said. His voice was oddly quiet to his own ears, and his chest felt cold. “I’m not- I love my père. He’s not- I love him. You don’t know him. He’s just- I’m sure you love your father too, deep down.”

He didn’t know what his own face looked like, but Felix looked stricken.

“Yes,” he said softly, caving, “I guess so. I didn’t mean to imply…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien quickly assured him. No need to be so upset. He was just getting emotional again, and that so close to the beginning of the show. “I know you didn’t mean it that way. I’ll just…” – he pointed towards the door – “…leave you to, y’know, prepare.”

He was out of the room before Felix could protest, towards the back entrance. He needed air, just for a moment. To ground himself.

The heavy door swung open and the security personnel outside gave him a curious glance, but let him pass without question. Cool evening air hit him, soothing and clear. It helped. It always helped.

He could always think more clearly when he was outside. Felix hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant it, because it wasn’t true. Adrien’s father wasn’t dismissive. He wasn’t distant. He cared, and he loved him. Adrien knew it. So what if-

The crash of a shutting door around the corner caught his attention.

“…know who I am?!”, an angry voice shouted. “I have a right to be here!”

Curious, Adrien came closer until he could see the speaker. A light-haired man with impressive sideburns and an expensive looking suit was raging against a closed door, or rather the person who had shut it.

“You can’t keep me out! Tell her that! Tell her she’s a- “

The man fell silent when he spotted Adrien.

“What are you looking at, boy?!” he snarled and Adrien took a step back. Oh god, had he been staring?

“S-sorry,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean to- “

That’s when he noticed his eyes. Blue-grey, like cold stone. Like Felix’ eyes.

“Monsieur- Monsieur Leanne?”, he asked tentatively. The man in front of him flinched, then towered over him with something in his eyes Adrien couldn’t place. It frightened him.

“It’s Bordeaux.”, he spit, emphasizing every syllable, “René Bordeaux. And who are you?!”

Oh god, he was doing everything wrong today. Leanne was Felix’ mother’slast name.

“Adrien- Adrien Agreste,” he pressed out, not knowing whether to apologize or to run. His fear was misplaced, however. Within mere seconds Monsieur Bordeaux relaxed, all hints of aggression evaporating like boiling spaghetti water.

“Agreste!”, he said cheerfully, a dizzying contrast to his previous demeanor, “Gabriel’s boy, I take it?”

“Y… yes!”, Adrien confirmed quickly, relieved that the situation was apparently saved. Had he imagined Monsieur Bordeaux’s anger? There was no trace of it now! Perhaps he had read the situation wrong… it wouldn’t be the first time. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Well, I’m a big fan!”, the reporter beamed. “Of you andyour dad. Excited for the show? You must be so nervous, being the main star!”

Flattered, Adrien shrugged.

“Oh, it’s not… not a big deal. But thank you, Monsieur Bordeaux.”

“But it is!”, Bordeaux insisted. “Call me René, young man, no need for formalities.”

He put a hand on his shoulder, lowering his voice.

“To be honest, I’m very impressed how well you are handling all this pressure. I have a son your age, and I know he would be at a total loss for what to do.”

“Oh. Oh!”, Adrien realized, “You mean Felix! I’m actually working with him tonight!”

“Oh? You don’t say!”

“It’s true! He’s doing great, though. A real professional!”

Monsieur- René sighed.

“I’d love to believe that. The Felix I know tends to be… stubborn. I fear he’ll refuse help from everyone, even those who have his best interest at heart.”

Adrien frowned. That was true, Felix was stubborn. But Adrien hadn’t noticed anything the other boy might need help with, so he couldn’t judge. It just didn’t sit right with him that his dad didn’t believe Felix could do it.

“Really, you can be proud of him!”, he tried again. “He’s gonna be flawless, you’ll see at the- oh.”

Another mistake. René wouldn’t see his son, because he was not allowed at the show.

“Well, yes.”, Felix’ father agreed, patting him on the back as if to say ‘no worries’. “There’s the problem, you see?”

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Ah, don’t be! It’s not your fault. Really, that’s between me and Evelyn. She just… doesn’t want me to be a part of Felix’ life anymore. All because of some small mistakes I made. And now, now Felix will never…”

“Give you a chance.”, Adrien concluded. René smiled wistfully.

“Exactly. I just want… another, uh, chance.”

He was looking into the distance, before promptly jumping up and turning to him.

“Wait a minute! You are the star of the evening! What if youbrought me in with you? Then I could see Felix before the show!”

Adrien blinked. He… he could do that! But…

“I… I don’t think that would be a good idea. Felix said he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did. But sometimes, what people say they want, and what they need are two entirely different things!”

…that sounded familiar, but not quite right.

“I don’t understand.”

“See,” René began, crouching down to his height, “take your dad! He’s probably very busy, isn’t he?”

He didn’tflinch.

“That’s fine! I am supporting him!”, Adrien said, voice sharper than intended.

“Of course you do! And you probably tell him that. You don’t wanna nag him, am I right?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“But surely, deep down, you would like him to see you more, wouldn’t you?”

“I… I guess. And you think Felix is the same? Even though he is mad at you?”

“Let me put it that way. I did some tinythings wrong, and now Felix wants to punish me for it. But you make mistakes too, don’t you? And you don’t want to be abandoned for them either.”

“No!”, he gasped, horrified, “No, of course not!”

“See? And you’re right! Know why?”

René gestured into the distance.

“There’s good people, and there are evil people, who do evil things, like bombing churches, or kicking puppies. But people like you and I – Good People, the rightkind of people – wecan change.

“...or explain why we didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. There’s always two sides, and all that. Nothing is made better if everyone just turns away from us! Punishing us for mistakes doesn’t make them disappear. Only if we are given another chance we can make things right.”

Something still didn’t sit right with Adrien, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“But… but what if the mistake is really bad?”

René’s face darkened, before lighting up again.

“Clever kid, you! Even then, punishing bad things never made them good, am I right? You can only” – he snapped his finger – “suck it up and support others to do better. And you are exactly the kind of person who would know better, clever as you are. Really, Felix could take a page from your book!”

He stood up, looking down on him.

“So, what do you say, young man? Do you wanna be my hero and help a worried father care for his son?”

Adrien looked back at the private entrance. The security people who would do as he said. The building his own father was probably in.

“I…”

Felix would thank him, eventually, right?

“I’ll do it.”

“So, here we are!”, Adrien announced to his companion. “Welcome to the back... stage. This is the hallway that leads to the stage, there you’ll arrive at the stairs to the audience, and here’s the way to our private changing room! Do you want me to tell Felix you are coming, or do you want to talk alone?”

René wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were darting over the many settings on his camera, then towards the changing room.

“Know what, kid? Maybe don’t tell Felix I’m here just yet.”

Adrien’s smile faltered.

“But… but the show is going to start soon! Don’t you want to wish him good luck?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.”, René dismissed with a wave of his hand, “Luck is the last thing he needs. Tell you what, I have something… special planned. You don’t want to ruin the surprise, do you?”

That made sense. He shook his head, and the reporter grinned.

“That’s what I thought. No off you go, get ready for your modeling gig!”

Adrien’s chest felt tight. He didn’t like the expression in René’s eyes. But he had been wrong so often. Felix would thank him eventually, he reminded himself. René just needed another chance.

Felix would thank him.

Felix did not thank him.

An hour later, there was press everywhere, and at least one police car. Adrien was lost and stumbling around between running people. Camera’s clicked, someone was yelling, he could see Felix’ mom talking to an officer. Her make-up was running. Was she crying?

“Adrien!”, a hoarse voice yelled, and suddenly Felix was there, pulling at his arm, “What did you do?!”

His eyes weren’t like stone anymore. They looked like thawing ice. Cold and watering andbreaking.

“I-”

“What did you do?!”

“I only wanted- I was just- “

“What?! Whatwere you?! Trying to ruin everythingfor me!?”

“No! I didn’t think- “

“There you are!”, a familiar voice called and Adrien almost sagged in relief. Nathalie pulled him away from Felix with no effort at all, instructing the security personnel to drag the kicking and cursing boy back to his mother. Then she pulled Adrien with her, towards the private box where his father sat.

Adrien gulped.

Gabriel Agreste was utterly motionless, looking down upon the chaos below. Not a hair was out of place, not the hint of an emotion in his eyes.

“That would be all, Nathalie.”, he said simply, and Nathalie let go of Adrien to return to her tablet.

“Father…”, he said, voice breaking. “I don’t understand what happened. Did I… did I do something wrong?”

His father was still watching the crowd below. The press, trying to get a shot of Evelyn Leanne. The police, running around and interviewing people. A blonde boy in navy blue, so small from above, blocking his ears and trying escape the cameras.

A show in ruins.

“Sir,” Nathalie spoke up again, before Gabriel could even turn to his son, “we heard back from Madame Bourgeois. She wants to reconsider doing her Fashion Highlights article about the Gabriel Brand instead of Leanne’s. And there’s a British perfume company looking for a new partner in fashion.”

With that, Gabriel stood up. His son lowered his head, trying to sink into the ground before the yelling could begin. But instead of raising his voice, his father raised his hand and –

“Let’s go home, Adrien.”

–…pat him on the shoulder.

“Father?”

He was confused. He’d been so sure this was his fault, that he had messed up somehow.

“Shouldn’t I- shouldn’t I go talk to Felix first?”

His father looked past him, towards the Leanne’s.

“I doubt you will be working with him again.”, was his reply. He looked almost… content when he turned away from the scene. “Let’s not waste our breath.”

With that, Gabriel Agreste started walking away.

And Adrien, ever the obedient son, followed.

—

Many things would happen between that fateful night, and another night that promised to be even more fateful.

Adrien had lost his mother.

Adrien had gained friends.

Adrien had gone to school; Adrien had left it.

He had been a hero and a villain, and through it all, a child.

A child that had to be better. A child that now knew, he could become what had become of René Bordeaux.

A child that would not.

He would not become like Bordeaux. Like Lila. He wouldn’t allow it.

And he would prove it!

He would do better, be better. So that he could return to school, to his friends, and show them that he wouldn’t let them down again. If they’d still have him.

He would show Nino that he’d never ever lie again.

He would show Alya that he’d never let her be used again.

He would show Marinette that he would never abandon her again.

And… he would show Felix that he got it now. That he wouldn’t disappoint him again.

And maybe, that would show Ladybug that she had been right to trust him one last time. Even if it wasn’t as her partner.

The door to his room opened, and Adrien held his breath. Nathalie would have knocked.

“Adrien,” his father greeted him, an even for him atypical amount on tension in his face, “we need to talk.”

“We do,” Adrien agreed, opening the tab with the list of therapists he’d been considering. Then he remembered himself and bit his lip. “Uh, you go first.”

He didn’t know if his father had even heard him. He was turned towards the window, before looking back at his son.

“I always wondered… I knew you were hiding something. Your behavior was so… unlike yourself.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed.

“Father?”

“I am not mad at you Adrien, though I admit, at first…”

He turned around, simmering anger in his usually cool eyes.

“I couldn’t believe you would be able to hide something of that importance from me. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Father, I- “

“No. Listen to me, Adrien. This might be our chance, our onlychance. Your mother’s only chance.”

The room seemed to get colder. Gabriel talked on.

“I never thought I would be able to involve you, always thinking you might be too… fragile. I see now that this was a mistake. If I had been more open in my endeavor, this would have ended a long time ago. But maybe it needed to happen. It needed to happen, so that you would truly understand what needs to be done.”

What do you mean, Adrien wanted to ask, but his mouth was frozen shut. Something icy was growing in his chest. In his pocket, he clutched a colorful little lucky charm like a lifeline.

“Adrien.”

His father stepped closer.

“I know that you were Chat Noir.”

Somewhere, deep in his soul, his subconsciousness was already connecting the final dots, only waiting for his mind to catch up. It kindly refused the invitation, choosing to revel in blissful ignorance for a few more minutes.

“I… F-father, I… I swear- “

“It’s alright, son. Everything will be alright. Look at me, Adrien.”

He did. He did, and he did not know who he was looking at.

“My son,” his father said, and there was a spark in his eyes that scared him, “it seems so fitting. That all of us would carry such a burden, at one point. As if fate itself kept a close eye on our family.”

“You are Hawkmoth.”, someone said. It took both Agreste’s a few moments to realize it had been Adrien who’d said it. And even then, it took Adrien’s mind several more to put ‘blissful ignorance’ back into its box and catch up with his subconscious and mouth. The lucky charm in his pocket felt cold, so cold, like it had felt only once before.

At TV1.

“You are Hawkmoth,” he repeated, and his voice didn’t falter. Neither did his father.

“I understand if you feel… betrayed.”, the latter said slowly, pronouncing the last word like something spiky he didn’t want to get too close to. “There is much you don’t know yet. But until I show you, I need you to remember that we are family. And that we have a common goal, and since quite recently, a common enemy.”

In his head, his thoughts were racing, too fast to be of any use to him. He felt numb. But fifteen years of experience with his father had taught him when to be quiet, and when to ask questions.

“A… common enemy?”

“Yes.”

His father smiled. It looked wrong.

“You were a hero. You were the Black Cat, you were Chosen. But they took that from you. The moment you didn’t meet their expectations anymore, they tossed you aside. As if you hadn’t sacrificed so much for them. I saw you, everything you did for them. For her.”

“Ladybug.”

The word felt odd in his mouth, as if it didn’t want to be said. His father’s smile widened.

“Ladybug,” he agreed, and if the name had hesitated on Adrien’s tongue, it positively rebelled on Gabriel’s. It sounded poisonous, dripping with disdain. “And the Guardian. And, not to forget, the imposter that took your place.”

Adrien looked up at him, slowly.

“You akumatized me.”

His father didn’t flinch. But he blinked, once, before stepping back.

“So I did.”

He turned around, towards the window. Towards Paris beyond, that feared him every day.

“Imagine my surprise when I learned that the one I was doing this all for was the one fighting me, all along. That the key to our happiness had been beneath my very own roof.”

He shook his head.

“The past is in the past. I know exactly how you felt, in that moment. I could feel it firsthand. How alone. Abandoned by those that should have stood with you.”

He turned back around, facing his son. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was genuine emotion on his face.

“Adrien, if you still feel that way, then we can fix it. Together. We can retrieve your Miraculous, and every other Miraculous too!”

He gripped his shoulder with unexpected strength, eyes wide.

“Adrien, I know just how deep Ladybug’s betrayal cut you. But now that you see her for what she really is, you have the power to make her regret. To take back what you deserve, what you are owed.”

He remembered Lila. Her power to make people believe anything. Just by knowing what they wanted to hear.

“Imagine it, son.”

Adrien imagined.

Being Chat Noir once more. The thing in his life he had loved so much, so much.

But he knew, it hadn’t been the costume he’d loved. When he thought of being Chat Noir, he thought of Plagg’s annoying voice. His constant company, his purrs. He thought of Ladybug and laughter, and racing over rooftops with someone that believed in him.

He thought of escape. Why did he want to escape?

Alone. Abandoned by those that should have stood with you.

He hadbeen alone, for so long. He had been abandoned.

“I love you, Father.”

He looked up. His father looked confused.

“I will always love you.”, he added, and the words felt right. They felt true. He smiled.

“Of course I will help you! I have always supported you, no matter what.”

Because what else could he do?

“I knew I could trust you.”

He was no hero anymore.

“I am so proud of you.”

And he was no villain either.

“You’ll see, Adrien.”

He was a child.

“It will all be worth it, in the end.”

A child that knew he could become everything his father wanted him to be.

A child thatwould not.

“Of course, Father.”

He would not become like Bordeaux. Like Lila.

Like Gabriel Agreste.

“Let me show you the reason for all this.”

Adrien felt like he knew already. Like it would be painful. Like it still wouldn’t change anything. And yet, he smiled. He smiled, the exact same smile he had always worn when his father ignored another birthday. The smile for when his father turned his back yet again. The smile that was so false it hurt.

The smile that would have given him away if his father had looked at him just a little bit closer, those past few years.

“I’m right behind you,” he said, reaching out with one hand for his father’s, with the other for his phone. He had no way to contact Ladybug now. But he knew someone who could. Whose lucky charm was in his pocket, comforting and warmonce again.

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t angry. He knew exactly what needed to happen, and that she would makeit happen.

“With your help, Adrien, this will all be over soon.”

Alone. Abandoned.

Oh yes.

Distant, dismissive, derogatory.

He was right.

I will not disappoint you.

More so than he knew.

“My son,” his father said, and Adrien was so sure he could see love in his eyes. “Now I know that we will be victorious.”

With that, Gabriel Agreste started walking away.

And Adrien, no longer the obedient son, followed.

#miramu writes #wttb #welcome to the back #felinette #adrien agreste #salt fic #this one isn't particularly salty tho #ml sugar #?#let me know if the tags don't fit

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bohemianrequiem · 3 years ago

Text

The Tablet of Vesuvius Caper

Despite the holiday season being over, and the crowds of eager tourists that entailed having gone home, security was no less tight that night at the Piazza del Campidoglio. Especially at the Piazza’s flagship building, the Capitoline Museums.

“Which, despite it’s name-“Player’s voice remarked quietly into her ear. “-Is actually only a single museum containing multiple different groups of archeological finds, relics, and artwork. Pretty neat, huh?”

Carmen couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of her lips as she swiftly crossed the distance between two adjacent buildings. Safely in the shadows, she replied, “Extremely.” Her voice silent on the warm wind that blew in from the Mediterranean. “But did you know that the Capitoline Museums are also widely regarded as being one of the first museums in the world after it was opened up to the public by the Pope in 1734?”

“Not bad, Carm. You’ve definitely done your research. Now it’s time to hope the research I did was all correct too. I’ve got the passcode generator fired up, so just get to the Museums’ emergency backdoor and I can make a key to get us in.”

Having gone over the layout of the Piazza and the various buildings that called it home again and again in preparation for this caper, Carmen knew that the door Player spoke of was just a short distance ahead of her. Although it was officially an emergency exit only to be used in case of a fire or similar disaster, it’s purpose tonight would be as their perfect entryway into the Museums unseen.

Or at least, it was meant to be. As Carmen approached the door, she noticed that the passcode protected lock already shone a bright green. Meaning someone had unlocked the door and intentionally left it so, most likely to help speed up their get away.

“Player, we’ve got trouble.” She swung the door open and stepped inside.

“You’re telling me. Cameras are already down, and I’m not the one who turned them off. You’ll be going in blind, Red.” His voice wavered as he spoke. His worry for Carmen’s well-being evident from his warning.

“I’ll manage. You just focus on getting those cameras back online.” As she moved through the Museums back hallway, Carmen wracked her brain for who might have been able to infiltrate the building before her.

El topo and Neal were both out: Topo would have just dug his way in, and Neal would have likely opted for using the ventilation system rather than the backdoor. What about Mime Bomb? Or maybe Tigress? They had both used Dr. Bellum’s technology to gain an edge against her in the past.

“Whoever hacked into the Museum’s security definitely knew their stuff. I can barely find any trace of their online infiltration.” Player remarked. Carmen listened intently for a moment before opening another door that led further into the interior. Now she was passing by walls of centuries old artwork, heading towards the section possessing what both her and VILE were after.

“Are you saying you won’t be able to reactivate it to give us an advantage?” She peered around a corner before proceeding to the archeological relic gallery.

“Never said that Red.” Player’s smirk was practically audible, as a few keystrokes later he snapped his fingers. “Bingo! I’ve reactivated the cameras in the wing you’re headed. And…. oh no.”

Carmen stiffened as she heard the crackle of professional issued radios reverberate off the walls around her. As stealthily as possible, she slipped open the door leading to the archeology wing and closed it shut behind her. “I could hear security in the artwork gallery. Who do you see? Tigress? Le Chevre? The Mime?”

“None of them. It’s somebody I’ve never seen before.” A few moments of silence. “He has it! Carmen, he has the Tablet of Vesuvius!” That’s all Carmen needed to hear. With a sudden burst of speed that threw all caution of being caught to the wind, she rushed into the main viewing room just in time to watch as a man in a bright blue coat gently tuck the treasured tablet away in a rough-spun drawstring bag.

Having heard the sudden commotion, the man looked over his shoulder and shot her a curious half-smile. “Oh, you’re new.” He had neat sideburns stretching down to his bottom jaw, an impeccable black button up, and a contrasting red tie. He wasn’t much taller than Carmen herself but carried about him an air of relaxed confidence. Like he’d done this same thing a hundred times.

“I could say the same for you. Aren’t you a little old to be a new graduate of VILE’s? Or are they having to start calling in the benchwarmers just to keep up with me?” She took a few strides forward, urging the man to keep talking and keep his mind off trying to find a way past her.

“Lady, I’ve honestly got no idea what you’re on about.” He tucked the tablet bag close to his chest, as if he were carrying a small child, and took a few steps backwards from the recently pilfered display case. “What I meant was that you must be a new friend of Pops’. It really warms my heart to see him playing so well with others. A fellow detective trying to track me down, am I right?”

Now it was Carmen’s turn to stare incredulously at the man across from her. “Pops? Who on Earth are you talking about?” He was well within range of her grappling gun. If she could just get a clear shot at the bag, then the tablet would be safely in her hands.

The stranger looked her up and down. “Y’know now that you mention it, you do have significantly better fashion sense than most detectives and private eyes I’ve encountered.” His grip on the sack tightened. “Which can only mean that you’re a rival thief here to steal the same treasure as me.”

Carmen smirked and shrugged her shoulders. “Guilty as charged. Now put the relic back where you got it from before I have to take it from you.”

The male thief quirked an eyebrow. “A thief who steals precious treasures just to return them. What a waste! I, on the other hand, have a much better idea of what to use the tablet for.” Carmen only had a moment’s time to react as he raised his hand in the air. Reflecting off the moonlight streaming in through the windows, her eyes caught a small spherical object between his fingers just as he slammed it down to the floor.

In an instant, the area where the thief had been was rapidly being enveloped by a layer of thick white smoke. “Player!” Carmen called into her earpiece, rushing into the smoke to find any trace of her quarry.

“I’ve got eyes on him. He went out a door at the back of the room leading off the main showroom.” Despite the heavy smoke hampering her vision, her expertly trained eyes cut through it and homed in on the door the thief had absconded through. Without a moment to lose, Carmen rushed towards the door and nearly stampeded over the man on the other side.

Before she could make any kind of comment about having caught up with him so easily, Carmen saw why the man had stopped in his tracks so early on in their chase. Standing halfway through the narrow hallway was a figure dressed up in lime green and black punk rock attire.

“Paperstar.”

“Carmen Sandiego.” Her piercing gaze shifted to the blue coated man beside her. “And associate. I’ll say this once. Hand over the relic and I’ll let you both leave this place. Try to run away and…” She produced a sheet of brightly colored construction paper from a holster on her thigh and deftly folded it into a dangerously accurate looking replica of a shuriken.

The male thief scoffed, pushing his way past Carmen and closer towards the VILE operative. “Or what? You’ll pelt us with your papier-mâché?”

Paperstar frowned. “I’ll do much more than that to you, monkey face.” She reared her hand back and threw the paper shuriken with all her weight behind it.

“Monkey face?! Why do people keep saying-“

“Move!” Carmen tackled him to the ground just as the folded weapon sliced through the space they had previously been occupying. It lodged itself deep into the mahogany door behind them, earning a nervous squeak from the blue sporting thief.

“Crap! Nice save, Red.” He wiggled his way out from underneath Carmen and reached deep within the folds of his blue jacket to produce a small pistol. Just barely had the sound of crinkling paper reached his ears did he notice that Paperstar had now resupplied herself with half a dozen paper shurikens.

“Stop it! Both of you!” While the male thief was still down on one knee, Carmen had already thrown herself back up onto her feet and was yelling in a hushed tone. “If you two go to shooting and throwing things at each other, the guards will be on us in seconds. Then nobody gets the tablet.”

The other two thieves seemed to consider this for a moment. “That tablet belongs to VILE, Carmen. Make this easy on yourself for once and have your henchman give it up.”

“Henchman? I’m nobody’s hired goon, little Miss ‘Papercut’.”

Before further aggravations and taunts could be hurled, Carmen spoke; “The tablet *belongs* in a museum. Not to you, not to VILE, and especially not to this guy.” She glowered down at the thief, eyes shifting to the tablet hidden away inside the drawstring bag in his other hand. “What does VILE even want with such a random piece of Roman history?”

Paperstar shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Perhaps unused to going so long without folding something with her idle hands. “Professor Gunnar simply tells me what to steal and where. I make a point of not asking too many questions, unlike a certain little Black Sheep.”

Now it was the blue coated thief’s turn to interject on Carmen’s behalf. “Maybe I could be of some help in shedding light as to why any of us are interested in this little beauty.” He stood up, pocketed his weapon, and dusted off his jacket’s shoulder pad.

“The Vesuvius Tablet, one of the most famous relics recovered from the site of the ancient Roman city of Pompeii. Famous, in fact, for the depiction of Mount Vesuvius on it’s front and the seemingly indecipherable text on the back. It’s neither Roman nor Greek, not even early Persian or Aramaic.”

“So, it’s in a language nobody’s ever discovered.” Carmen had read up on the history of the tablet. From it’s recovery in 1750, to it’s public release to the Capitoline Museums’ archeological gallery just last year. Despite those countless hours of research, she still couldn’t understand why VILE sought to pillage the item.

“I never said that, Ms. Sandiego.” He smirked, a knowing thing that did little to make her thing the tablet was any better off with the male thief than VILE. “According to some confidential reports from the first excavation team sent by the king of Naples, the Tablet of Vesuvius initially read something like a map. However, the further the tablet was taken away from it’s resting place in Pompeii, the more illegible the words on it became.”

Paperstar chimed in, a giggle playing on her lips. “You don’t seem to know when to shut your mouth, do you, old man? I can help with that.” She shifted a foot backwards, preparing herself for the coming encounter.

“So I’ve been told. I’ll try to keep this short and sweet then.” He lightly jabbed at Carmen with his elbow. “How about you go high and I go low, Red?” He whispered.

“What? But just a minute ago you were the one throwing smoke bombs and running away from me.”

“Yeah, well, seeing as you’re not the one trying to merc me at the moment, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to suggest a team-up. After all, I get the sense you and this girl really don’t care for each other.” The stranger did have a point. After all, the absolute worst Carmen would do is leave him tied up for the proper authorities to find. Paperstar on the other hand….

“You’ve got me there. Let’s move!” Shurikens as deadly as steel sliced through the air as the pair of thieves pressed an advance towards their neon green assailant. With a high jump, Carmen pushed herself off the side of the wall and aimed a kick towards Paperstar’s head.

She dodged but stayed distracted long enough for the blue coated thief to get in close and swipe her legs out from underneath her. “No!” The paper wielder fell flat on her back, with Carmen’s boot soon digging into her gut.

“Too slow, Papercut. Better luck next time?” She quipped. Before Paperstar could spit out the vitriol that was surely brewing between her lips, the communicator on her arm flashed bright green.

“Paperstar,” The voice of Professor Gunnar emanated from it. “Local authorities are en-route to the Museums. It appears a detachment of Interpol is already present on the grounds. This is an Alpha zero-one situation. Vacate the region and return to the isle immediately.”

“Interpol.” The male thief murmured. “Just what I needed.”

“Devineaux.”

“Zenigata.”

The two looked up at each other. “Wait, you have someone from Interpol chasing you?” Carmen probed.

“For the better part of my entire career, yeah. You?”

“Something like that. He’s more of a minor annoyance, but-“

Paperstar’s eye roll was nearly audible. “Wow, great, you two are such besties. Now let me up so I can-“

“Ah, ah, ah. What’s the magic word?” The thief dug into his pocket and retrieved a bundle of cylinders consisting of interlacing bamboo strips. He swiftly set out about attaching them to Paperstar’s fingers, much to her protest. “There, I’d like to see you try and fold paper with your fingers all stuck together.”

“What - CHINESE FINGER TRAPS?!” She raged, only succeeding in making them tighter the more she pulled. “LITERALLY WHY DO YOU HAVE THESE?”

“Oldest trick in the book, kid. Well, the book I just made up in my head, but you get the idea.” He pointed down the hallway. “There’s a stairwell that leads to the roof down this way, Red. Let’s motor and leave our little paper tiger for the cops.”

“Let’s.” Carmen agreed with a smile. They made their down the hallway just as Paperstar finally moved herself into a sitting position against the wall.

“I will find you, Black Sheep! VILE will find you! And when we do, there won’t be anything left for-“

“Jeez, maybe I should have brought one for her mouth too.” The thief opened the door. “Ladies first.”

“You think?” As she slipped by, Carmen carefully slipped the weighty bag from the blue thief’s hand. As he turned around to jeer one last time, he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Toodles, Papercut. See you around!” With the two of them safely within the stairwell, he slammed the door shut. Only then, when Carmen was halfway up the stairs, did he notice he was missing something. “Hey! No fair, I thought we had something going there for a minute!”

“Sorry, but I don’t exactly play well with other thieves.” With the door to the roof now in reach, she slowed and called back behind her. “Speaking of, they don’t usually go this long without at least telling me their name. What’s you?”

The blue jacket wearing thief appeared at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at her, something like anticipation gleaming in his eyes. “My name, Ms. Sandiego? My name is Lupin the Third, grandson of the original gentleman thief, Arsene Lupin. And when I set my eyes on a treasure, I never fail in stealing it.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Lupin, but I think you’ll just have to let this one go.” Carmen placed a hand on the doorknob.

“Real quick, Red. Why do you think these people, the ones you call VILE, are after that tablet? And what’s stopping them from stealing it again later after you’ve left?” He took a few steps up the stairs. “Like I said before, that tablet isn’t just a pretty picture of Mount Vesuvius, it’s intended use is as a map leading to something. Only way to ensure VILE won’t want to steal it again is to steal whatever it leads to, right?”

Carmen wavered. If the tablet really was a map and it lead to some kind of…treasure, then VILE would stop at nothing to get their claws on it. “Okay, Lupin. So what exactly are you suggesting I do with it?”

“Well, seeing as I’m the only one privy as to how the map needs to be decoded, I’d say you can hold onto it for me. Don’t think of it so much as stealing, more like borrowing.” He chuckled. “How about another team-up? You hold onto the tablet, I can show you how to decode the map, and we take whatever VILE would have any interest in stealing. Sound like a plan?”

Player’s voice buzzed in her ear. “Carmen, Interpol forces and local police are surrounding the Museums. Zack and Ivy have the car running, but it might not matter if you hang around too long. How do you wanna play this?”

She debated for only a moment. The man was letting her keep the tablet, so in any case she’d still be coming out on top. He may have been a thief, but he at least seemed earnest about wanting to work together to outset VILE from getting their hands on the relic.

“Okay, fine. My people will talk to your’s and we’ll get a meeting place set up. There, we can decode the map and find whatever it leads to.”

“Music to my ears, Red.” He joined her nearly at the door. “Now, how‘s about we make our escape?” Making sure that the tablet was secure in her hands, Carmen opened the door into the warm Mediterranean night.

Bright spotlights illuminated the entirety of the Museums’ rooftop. From squarely in the center, a man in a dull burgundy trench-coat faced the opening door.

“LUPIN!” He yelled. “I knew you’d be here. You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back to Italy after last year.”

“Pops! So good to see you again after my, shall we say, extended hiatus?”

Carmen quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Long story, I met Leonardo Da Vinci. I’ll tell you next time. You get out of here, I’ll keep the Old Man and Interpol busy.” He winked. “I’ll see when I see you.” And with that, Lupin strutted out to meet Inspector Zenigata as Carmen excused herself to the shadows.

True to his word, the Italian police force seemed much more preoccupied with keeping their sights on Lupin than Carmen herself and she was able to beat a hasty getaway to Zach and Ivy’s waiting vehicle.

“Carm,” Player started once they were safely on the road. “Do you really think that Lupin guy’s legit? How do know anything he’s saying about a treasure map on the Tablet of Vesuvius is true?”

“I’m not sure. He seems earnest enough, but…” Carmen stared at the ancient relic in her hands, turning it over. “Maybe he’s on to something. See if you can turn up anything about those excavation reports he mentioned, the ones from the 18th century.” She checked her watch. “In the morning. You’ve got school tomorrow, right? I can’t have my white hat getting detention any time soon.”

Player grumbled. “Pfft, hackers don’t have bedtimes. While I’m at it, I’ll see what I can find out about this Lupin III guy. He sure seemed to know his stuff.” He shifted on the other end of the call. “Goodnight, Carmen. You did good tonight.”

“You too, Player. Sleep well.” Carmen ended the communication and leaned forward between the two front seats. “Guys, take us back to the hotel. I think it’s time we all got some shut-eye.”

“You got it, Carm. Ivy, get my ‘Post-caper tunes to rock out to’ playlist started. I’m going to merge.”

~~~~

“So, Lupin, you really think she’s the real deal?” Jigen hung a hand outside of the Fiat 500’s passenger window, gently shaking off the ash from the still burning end. He returned it to his lips and took a long drag. “She better be, seeing as you gave up the relic just to earn her trust.”

Beside him, Lupin thoughtfully scrolled through a number of news articles on his cellphone. “‘La femme rouge’, the red woman. She breaks, she enters, and apparently, she steals before others can. She’s done some impressive work.” He laid down his phone, reaching into the backseat to procure a book recently pilfered from a private collection. “I believe this could be the start of a beautiful friendship, or at least a mutually beneficial one.”

“And how about Pops? Was he happy to see you again?”

“As a clam. I gave him the old runaround, then borrowed a uniform from an extremely unfortunate Interpol agent at the scene and slipped away. Poor soul, was not a good day to wear the underwear with the hearts on them.” The two shared a chuckle. Jigen snuffed out his flame, just in time to help Lupin light one of his own.

“Now, what’s this about a treasure you were telling Red all about? You know I’m always down to get our hands on something shiny, but I’d at least like to know what kind of scheme you're cookin' up” Jigen pulled his lighter away from Lupin’s cigarette, giving him a few moments to take a couple starting puffs.

“Old pal, have I got a story for you.” He propped the book up on the steering wheel and turned a number of pages in. “And this one’s called ‘The legend of the Tomb of Hercules.’”

#Carmen Sandiego #Lupin III #my writing #Jigen Daisuke #Inspector Zenigata #Zack and Ivy #Infinity War is the most ambitious crossover-#Posts Carmen Sandiego meets Lupin III

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coramatus · 3 years ago

Text

Subway Boss Emmet vs. the Multiverse, part iv

More self-indulgent nonsense featuring Subway Boss Emmet getting simultaneously heckled and fanboyed by a bunch of kid OCs and then getting dogpiled by his Pokémon.

Co-starring original characters: Kathy of the Ten-Thousand Shades, Wyatt the tree hyena, Émil the belligerent 8yo mute, Azar the girl with a headscarf that isn’t actually a headscarf, and Rhys the melanistic anthro fox boy.

———————————

“Wow, would you look at that,” Rhys said, tapping his very watch-less wrist, “A second is up and she’s not back yet. Typical.”

‘Oh shut up, Rhys,’ Wyatt huffed in telepathic irritation. ‘You know what she meant.’

“Do I?” Rhys shot back, “Kathy’s sense of time is borked even at—”

At that exact moment, a burst of rainbow light chose to form into a bright shining portal. Almost as if taunting Rhys.

The fox blinked at it, his ears quirked, “Huh, I guess her grasp of time is working for once.”

Wyatt just snorted at him and went back to lapping up his maple syrup dinner.

Rhys wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy staring at the person stumbling out of the portal right after Kathy.

From Rhys’s perspective, Kathy had just dragged in some homeless human man. It was the only way to explain his disheveled appearance, grody clothes, and some magnificently frazzled sideburns. Maybe if he were in better shape, Rhys would’ve thought the guy was a lost train conductor but as it stood, nope, just some hobo. Though that swooshy coat did look familiar…

“Hey kids!” their guardian announced in cheery singsong, “Check it out! I got another potential travel buddy for you to rake over the coals. Lemme know whatcha think~”

The words ‘potential travel buddy’ got everyone else’s attention. It wasn’t everyday that a new person joined them. But it also wasn’t typical to be asked to judge a newcomer, which meant that they were not simply dealing with another lost kid.

Azar and Émil turned to regard him easily enough — Azar turning and smiling politely; Émil’s dour expression suddenly deepening — while Rhys kept racking his brain to recall why he was sure he’d seen this guy before.

Wyatt’s reaction was a little more spectacular.

Glancing up, Wyatt’s eyes abruptly snapped wide open and he spat out his maple syrup in shock.

Unfortunately, he spat this directly into Émil’s face, the smaller child squeaking and flailing in revulsion. Shaking in silent fury, Émil wiped the syrup off his face and smeared the sticky mess into Wyatt’s fur in retaliation.

Wyatt was too boggle-eyed and slack-jawed to even notice.

On his part, Emmet hadn’t noticed either as he was too busy looking around in wide-eyed, grinning wonder. Clearly the planet-filled alien sky was a novel experience for him even if they were just on barren rocks in the middle of nowhere.

Kathy sauntered up to the kids and cleared her throat to catch Emmet’s attention.

“OK, so! Quick introductions!” she announced cheerfully and pointed to each kid in turn, “Now left to right, we’ve got Wyatt, Émil, Azar, and Rhys.” She held out an arm, gesturing to the man at her side, “Kids, this is Emmet.”

“Hello! I am Emmet!” the possibly homeless man greeted boldly, smiling wide as he saluted smartly. “I request a track switch to your line! Destination unknown! Ready for safety checks!”

The kids exchanged glances. For a second, no one seemed sure what to say.

“Might wanna brace yourself. They can get pretty brutal,” Kathy muttered under her breath to him.

If Emmet was nervous, he certainly wasn’t showing it. Even if he had been, that would be dispelled rather quickly.

‘I say yes! Let him join us!’ Wyatt’s mental voice echoed aloud, nodding excitedly, his mouth open in a wide dog-like grin.

Rhys squinted at him, ears pulling back, “What? Why?”

‘Because he’s cool!’ Wyatt insisted.

“No, he’s not. He sucks,” Emil signed, scowling as he toweled himself off.

Wyatt’s long jaws fell open, gaping at Émil, ‘What?! How can you say that??’

“Last time he cornered us and talked at us a whole bunch,” Émil signed back in rapid-fire agitation. “It was really weird!”

‘I didn’t mind it!’

“Liar.”

Azar quickly cut them off and asked Wyatt, “Wait, isn’t this that subway guy you were nerding out over that one time?”

Rhys snapped his fingers in realization, “Oh! It is that guy!”

‘Yeah! That’s him! Subway Master Emmet!’ Wyatt thought giddily.

“The hell is a Subway Master?” Émil demanded. “Does he make sandwiches??”

Kathy couldn’t hide her snort of laughter while the others, sans Wyatt, simply burst out laughing.

‘Oh my god, he’s right there, guys!’ Wyatt protested with a whine.

“I have missed a joke,” Emmet stated with a blank smile, only mildly perturbed. He then pointed at Wyatt, “Are you psychic? I don’t see your mouth moving.”

‘Just telepathic, sir!’ Wyatt yelped, sitting up straighter, a blush of shyness touching his thoughts. ‘I can’t really talk otherwise, my everything is kinda wrong for that now, haha…’

“Oooh~ someone’s got a crush~” Rhys teased.

‘I will bite your tail off, Mori!’ Wyatt hissed with a snarl.

“I have a question for Rhys too!” Emmet said, cutting them off. “You look different! You were a verrry badly-disguised Zorua last time I saw you.”

“Nah, this is the real me, baby,” Rhys gestured at himself with both thumbs proudly. “I’m a fox. Not a Pokémon.”

‘And I’m not either,’ Wyatt hurriedly added. ‘I’m a human that got transmogrified by an evil plant demon thing.’

“Human,” Émil signed preemptively.

“Human too,” Azar added.

“Also human!” Emmet chimed in, hand raised. He looked at Kathy, “I still have many questions.”

“That can wait. You guys are all from different universes and timelines so there’s tons of questions all damn time,” Kathy chuckled, bemused. Stepping closer, she reminded the group, “Right now, the matter is if you kids think he’s alright to join us.” She gave Emmet a thoughtful look, “I personally don’t find him threatening. But I’m me. What say you?”

“I will ask you about that later too,” Emmet said, his smile wry.

‘Hey, wait a sec,’ Wyatt cut in. His head tilted, eyes squinting in sudden realization, ‘If Emmet is here, then where is—?’

Emmet stiffened.

“That’s why he wants to join,” Kathy answered abruptly, sparing him the need to do so. “He’s trying to find his bro.”

‘What…? What happened??’ Wyatt whined, his eyes now wide open as his ears drooped in horror.

Kathy shrugged, “Some kind of portal ate him it sounds like.”

The smile Emmet gave Kathy was less than happy, “That is not a nice way of putting it.”

“Am I wrong?” she pointed out.

Emmet wasn’t given a chance to retort.

In a burst of motion, Wyatt loudly slapped his hand-paws on the ground and growled at the others in challenge, overlaid by his mental voice shouting, ‘Then I vote yes! I don’t care what you guys think. I am helping him!’

“Cruuush~”

Rhys was summarily slapped in the back of his head by Wyatt’s tail leaves.

On the other hand, Azar just considered Emmet intently before asking,

“Mr. Emmet, you’re a Pokémon trainer?”

He perked up, grinning as he tipped the brim of his hat, “Yep! I am!”

“Do you have them on you?”

“Of course!” he displayed his belt, lined with a surprising number of Pokéballs.

“Are they good at fighting?”

‘Dude, he’s like boss-levels hard,’ Wyatt nudged her, telepathically whispering even though everyone could hear him.

Emmet visibly preened, subtly straightening his back.

“Then, I’m with Wyatt,” Azar smiled. She grinned at the others slyly, “Me and Kathy can’t keep saving your guys' butts all the time.”

Rhys made an undignified noise, rolling his eyes at her.

Meanwhile, the youngest of the group had just finished rinsing his face and hair with a bottle of water. He seemed to be trying to pointedly ignore the others as he dried off.

“Émil?” Kathy called out to the youngest, tilting her head with a playful smile, “You want to say something or are you going to just be passive-aggressive about it again?”

He froze as he started to take off his sticky sweater. Realizing everyone was staring at him, he shoved it back on with an irritated huff and signed,

“Can we not?”

‘Why?’ Wyatt asked plaintively. ‘Ok, yeah, that time him and his brother were trying to type me was kind of a lot, but I wasn’t expecting it so it threw me off!’

“You were thinking ‘oh my god’ over and over the whole time,” Émil reminded him, glaring incredulously.

‘It was a happy ‘oh my god’! Like meeting a cool celebrity kind of freaking out!’ Wyatt defended.

“You sounded scared.”

‘I’m always scared!’

“Of him??”

‘No!’ Wyatt yipped incredulously, ‘I already voted for him!’

At this, some of the fury Émil had been holding back fizzled out. He slouched with a frown, seemingly unhappy with his reading of the situation. After a moment of thought, he amended,

“Then, I don’t think he’s dangerous. Just really, really, really weird.”

“Is that a dealbreaker?” Kathy clarified.

“Not really,” Émil signed with a scowl. He gave Emmet the stink eye, doubting the adult understood him, “I just don’t like him. As a person.”

“That’s not a ‘no’,” Azar pointed out with a smile.

“OK, fine! He can come too!” Émil threw his hands up. Then, glaring at Emmet, he signed, “I’m gonna kick you extra hard if you do that thing again.”

“Signal received!” Emmet signed back, his grin cheeky.

On his part, Émil looked shocked but quickly shoved it under another surly scowl.

Azar was not hiding her surprise, “Uh, how do you know ASL?”

“I don’t know what that is!” Emmet grinned, “But Émil is definitely using Unovan sign language.”

Azar was about to say something but then stopped as she remembered, “Oh, right, Unova’s basically the US.”

‘Just the east coast. New York City, really,’ Wyatt corrected.

Émil stared at them all in abject confusion, “I use American sign language. What the heck is Unova?”

Emmet was about to interject when Kathy beat him to it with a loud,

“OR! How about we not worry about it. It’ll just cause an existential crisis.” She turned to fix a scowling grin at the kids, snarling between her teeth, “GUYS.”

For once, the kids seemed appropriately chastised.

“Now that just leaves you, foxy boy,” Kathy pointed to Rhys with her hands held together.

On his part, the black fox looked as if he’d already dozed off, arms pillowed behind his head with his snout raised to the sky as he laid on his back. The white tip of his fluffy tail twitched irritably.

“C’mon, Rhys. I know you’re not asleep yet,” Kathy chided.

“Ugh…” Rhys grumbled, ears flat as he lifted his head to glare at her, “ Honestly? I don’t care. If he’s not a creep or serial killer, then we’re probably fine.”

‘He’s not!’ Wyatt thought heatedly.

“Alright, good enough for me,” the fox shrugged.

Azar frowned at Rhys, “That’s an awfully low bar to set for someone you’re traveling with.”

“I have low standards,” he shrugged again. Then his lips curled back into a mean smirk as he pulled his arms up to point to the others, “I mean look at you guys!”

The other three groaned.

‘Oh fuck you too,’ Wyatt snapped.

“Someone’s going to stab you someday,” Émil signed with a flat glare.

Rhys yawned, laying back down sleepily, “That’s future-me’s problem.”

Émil just rolled his eyes.

“So… yeah. I guess we’re OK with Mr. Emmet,” Azar offered to Kathy. She side-eyed Émil’s scowl and amended, “Mostly.”

Kathy nodded, satisfied.

“Looks like you’re in,” she turned to Emmet, smiling as she held out a hand to shake, “Welcome aboard.”

Emmet’s grin could have outshone the sun as he clasped Kathy’s hand in both of his, shaking hers vigorously.

“I am Emmet! Thank you!!” Releasing Kathy’s hand, he stood straight, performing his favored point and call pose as he announced, “Safety checks complete! Everything’s ready! Follow the rules! Safe driving! Follow the schedules! Everyone smile! Aim for victory! All aboard!”

Dead silence reigned as Kathy, Azar, Rhys, and Émil all stared at Emmet.

“…uh, sure!” Kathy agreed, not sure what else to do.

Only Wyatt looked absolutely star-struck by this display, his eyes wide and shining in awe, the leaves of his tail loudly rustling from how hard he was whipping it back and forth.

Emmet similarly had no regard to the others’ reaction. Experiencing a new boost of energy, he turned to Kathy excitedly, beaming as he asked,

“When do we make our first stop??”

This snapped Kathy out of her shock as she broke out into an amused laugh, only feeling slightly bad at what she said next,

“Actually, your first stop is a nap. You haven’t slept in days and that changes right now.”

Emmet’s grin froze, anger creeping into his monotone voice as he exclaimed, “Change of stop denied! I don’t need a nap!”

She pointed at his face, “Your eyebags say otherwise.”

Faint snickering could be heard from the kids. Even Rhys had perked up in interest.

Emmet leaned away from her hand with a hard grin, “I am fine.”

Kathy tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully, her eyes wandering down to his waist, “Mmmh, OK, but I’m gonna get a second opinion.” She leaned into his space, eyes fixed on the Pokéballs lining his belt, as she sweetly called out, “Hey, lil’ dudes? I know you can hear me in there. Think you could do your guy a favor and look out for his well-being?”

All at once, every single one of the Pokémon on Emmet popped out of their balls in a massive flash of light. He only had a split second to yelp before he was summarily dogpiled by ten very large Pokémon, his hat comically sent flying in the process. With an aggravated growl, he attempted to wrestle them off, but all ten refused to budge. After a moment of useless flailing and cursing, Emmet was forced to flop back, breathing heavily in defeat.

The kids all burst out laughing at the scene.

The two teams all gave Emmet stern looks. Clearly they knew what he was doing to himself.

Kathy had to wonder if they had been waiting for an excuse to bring their trainer to heel. She nodded at them respectfully as she approached Emmet. Kneeling down, she peered down at his unhappily smiling, upside down face, deeply unimpressed.

“Emmet, listen to me,” she said calmly, waiting for him to focus his attention on her. When she was satisfied he was listening, she explained, “If you’re coming with, I need you sharp and focused.” To punctuate her words, she flicked his nose, eliciting a wince from him, “That means I can’t afford to keep a shambling, emotional mess that might get us killed because their head wasn’t screwed on right. Nothing personal, but this is best for everyone.”

Emmet looked ready to argue, desperately wanting to fight her on it, but then he relented, sighing before reluctantly muttering,

“…safety first. You have the right of way.”

It was a victory Kathy wasn’t really expecting, but it seemed that Emmet did actually have some common sense rattling around in his brain.

“Cool,” she nodded curtly. She then gave the assembled Pokemon a meaningful look as she rejoined her charges. “I’ll leave it up to you guys to decide when he’s good to go. Otherwise, feel free to say hi to the kids.”

For the ten Pokémon, it seemed as if they’d only just noticed the additional four people. A few blinked in surprise before they all turned to chitter and rumble at each other. There were nods and shakes of the head, a few excited gestures, and some confused pointing at Wyatt and Rhys before they seemed to reach an agreement. Seven of them got off Emmet’s person, leaving Haxorous, Archeops, and Garbador to keep pinning their trainer down.

Emmet just inhaled in relief as his lungs regained the room to expand again and watched as members of his and his brother’s teams wandered over to the kids. All four of them bore excited smiles as the Pokémon split off to meet the ones they were most curious about. Which just left…

“You can get off my cab now,” he pointedly smiled at the three Pokémon still sitting on him.

Unfortunately for him, none of them were buying it. Garbador just smugly settled herself more comfortably across his legs. Haxorous laid down and made his belly into her personal pillow, keeping her mouth-blades strategically positioned in places that would not appreciate an abrupt meeting with a sharp implement. Archeops was the only one nice enough to move and let his fluffy side be used as a pillow, snuggling up closer to his trainer.

“Fine,” Emmet relented, leaning against Archeops with an unhappy sigh. He stared up at the eerie purple gas giant looming overhead, listening as Rhys sharply yipped when Galvantula gave him an accidental shock of excitement, the other kids laughing openly at his misfortune.

It brought back some old, old memories. He hadn’t done anything remotely like this since…

…since he and Ingo had gone on their own Pokémon journey almost two decades ago.

…had it really been so long?

It was going to be strange for sure, having to adjust to completely unknown travel partners again. At least when they were kids, he and Ingo had each other for backup. Now, he was entirely at the mercy of five strangers.

(Though he supposed the mini-platoon of experienced Pokémon at his beck and call evened the odds a bit if it came to it.)

With himself hopelessly trapped, Emmet settled in, the sounds of youthful background chatter a surprisingly nice change from the painful silence of his much too empty apartment.

Whatever happened next, it certainly promised to be interesting…

#pokemon #pokemon legends #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon black and white #pokemon black 2 and white 2 #subway boss emmet vs the multiverse #subway boss emmet #coramatus’s writing #coramatus’s characters #kathy of the ten thousand shades #wyatt vellasco winters #rhys mori #émil patel #azar miraftab #this is the peak of self-indulgent nonsense #what is wrong with me

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

Text

Valentine’s Day 3 - Autobalance

Here it is on AO3 or under the cut, if you prefer!

"You got all your stuff Spy? Taxi's on his way." Engineer asked as he knocked on the door with the knife symbol.

"Oui, I am coming." The voice with the French accent answered.

Inside the suite, Spy wasn't alone. He sighed as he picked up his suitcase and his mask before looking up at Sniper.

"Spook…? You sure you can't stay?"

"I do not think I can. The Administrator's orders were very clear, you received the same letter as I did. I am to be transferred to the enemy team and you will receive their Spy in exchange."

"Yeah… But why does it have to be like that?" Sniper asked, fumbling with his hat between his fingers. He had meant it as a rhetorical question, to express his distress more than anything else. But Spy answered anyway.

"Because we keep winning against them with baffling ease. It was high time that something was done about that."

"Couldn't she swap other people? You're not alone in this team!"

Spy took the step that separated him from his lover and put his suitcase down. He splayed a hand on Sniper's chest. Like a reflex, his glove travelled up to Sniper's collar and adjusted it. Ah, Sniper didn't know how to dress up. But that was not why the Frenchman had fallen for him. Non, it was rather for his way of undressing the Frenchman, figuratively and concretely.

Sniper had an innocence, a naivety almost, that touched Spy more deeply than anything else. He had learnt to ignore the scruffy looks, the almost feral manners and instead, found himself falling for them all. Those features were nothing but a wall hiding a kind of honesty and sensitivity too powerful to be understood by the common mortal. Spy had learnt to see through the campervan, the atrocious mullet, the equally hideous sideburns and the messy stubble on the skin tanned by years under the scorching sun of Australia. He had fallen for them all.

"Mundy." Spy said and Sniper, who had his head lowered, closed his eyes and frowned. "Look at me, please."

"Can't. It hurts."

"Please…?" Spy put his gloved hand under Sniper's chin and pulled it up until their eyes met.

"Mh…" Sniper protested.

"We will continue to see each other at work. This is not a goodbye." Spy said, trying to comfort him.

"Yeah, when you stab me in the back." Sniper sighed.

"I will not spare you, mon amour, you know how much I like to scratch that back of yours." Spy wiggled his eyebrows and Sniper eventually managed to smile.

"C'mere…" The Aussie wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in a tight hug as he buried his head in Spy's shoulder. "I'll miss you, luv'." He inhaled the expensive perfume and the menthol cigarette, the distinctive scent of the man he loved.

"I will miss you too." Of course Spy returned the dear embrace and they remained stuck to each other for a long while. Chest against chest, their breathing synced as their fingers clawed harder on each other.

"Yo, Spy! Your taxi's comin'!" Scout shouted from the door.

"Get lost!" Sniper shouted from the inside.

"You are interrupting a moment, Scout." Spy added.

"What kind of moment? C'mon, you gotta hurry, man!"

Spy looked at Sniper and answered:

"The kind of moment you dream of having with Miss Pauling."

Sniper chuckled.

"Oh guys! Jeez! Disgustin'...!" Scout's voice seemed to be deafened more as he walked away from the door.

Spy and Sniper chuckled.

"Right, let me carry this for you." Sniper took the suitcase off of Spy's hand.

"Thank you, that is very kind of you."

They headed for the door.

"Well, gotta help the elderly, eh?"

"Mundy!" Spy nudged him with his elbow.

The Aussie chuckled and put his hand on the door knob.

"Wait." He turned to Spy. "Lu'...?"

"Oui?" Lucien answered with a sweet smile. He was about to put on his mask.

"Can I uh… Can I kiss you, just one last time?"

Lucien shook his head, his grin growing wider.

"May I kiss you." He corrected. "And please, I am all yours."

Mundy let go of the door handle and laced his arm around Lucien's waist, pulling him closer as he pushed his lips against him. Lucien wrapped his arms up around Mundy's neck and pushed himself to the tip of his toes, in his varnished Italian shoes.

"Gosh, I'll miss your lips." Mundy stayed with his forehead against Lucien. His hand travelled up to his hair. He stroked it gently.

"Only my lips?" Lucien tapped the tip of Mundy's nose with his gloved finger before putting on his mask and passing in front of him to open the door.

"Nah, definitely not only yer lips…"

"Mundy-!" Lucien got startled when he felt from behind Mundy's powerful fingers grabbing him where he was quite sensitive.

"C'mon, luv', let's go."

They exited the suite. Spy said goodbye to his team as the taxi arrived. The enemy Spy exited it and entered the base. He shook hands with his new teammates.

"Spy?"

"Spy."

Both spies shook hands too.

"Sniper, do you mind holding on to my suitcase, I will give the new Spy a tour of his suite." Lucien asked.

"Sure. Don't be too long though, the taxi driver's waitin'."

"But of course."

Both spies went to the door with the knife symbol and entered. It lasted a few minutes and soon, Lucien exited again. Mundy nodded to the front door and the Frenchman nodded. They exited the base and soon found themselves at the taxi's car.

"Hey, promise you'll go easy on my back?"

"Only if you spare my head, and my suits."

"Your suits?" Mundy asked, not understanding.

"Your Jarate, Sniper."

"Ah, yeah… Well, depends."

"On what, may I ask?"

"If you behave." Mundy answered with a wink and Lucien blushed beyond his ears.

"Stop it."

"Make me." Mundy growled low enough that the taxi driver wouldn't hear and Lucien chuckled.

"I will see you tomorrow, as usual." The Frenchman said.

"Yeah. Oh, hold on…" Mundy opened the car door for him.

"Oh… Merci." He slipped in the car on the backseat and fastened his seatbelt.

Mundy tapped the window and Lucien lowered it.

"Uh, I hope I'll say it right, but uh… je t'aime."

[I love you.]

The pronunciation was tainted with a heavy English accent, the syllables were butchered and the sounds slaughtered. Lucien chuckled at how distorted it sounded from his Sniper's voice.

"Merci."

[Thank you.]

The driver started the engine and Mundy was left alone in front of the base, in the middle of the orange desert split by a grey line of asphalt. The car looked smaller and smaller as the taxi driver flew like the wind. Eventually, it completely disappeared and Mundy sighed, his shoulders sinking sadly.

He went back straight to his van and spent the rest of his day off there, like a fox in his den. Time passed slowly, terribly so. It was torture to go through the day without his lover and Mundy found himself imagining what Lucien was doing in the enemy base, wherever it was. Did he start by unpacking his suits? Or did he just collapse on his bed and get sucked in the same daydream as Mundy was?

Perhaps, he had decided to start by taking a shower, to clear his head, then unpack before organising his new home, getting to know it. Of course, Lucien would do all these things with a cigarette between his lips, carding his salt and pepper hair elegantly from time to time. Ah, his grey front lock would always fall on his forehead and between his eyes. He used to always complain about it, saying that he would cut it shorter. But Mundy would answer that his hair was perfect as it was, and he shouldn't cut it.

Once, he even jokingly suggested that Lucien should tie it away in a ridiculous, very short ponytail at the front. And the Frenchman answered that he seriously was considering it. Of course it was nothing else but a joke, yet Mundy had taken his words and found a little rubber band. He took it to the Frenchman's suite and it had ended up in a game of cat and mouse where Mundy was chasing his lover to tie his hair. When he finally did catch him, he tied the grey front lock of hair and Lucien looked absolutely ridiculous. That day, he had even kept it for the entire evening and only removed it when he went to bed with Mundy.

Ah, the nights would be lonely now. No Lucien to lie his head on Mundy's shoulder, no Lucien to stick his ice cold feet on Mundy's calves, just to bully him. And of course, no Lucien to warm Mundy's night and leave him panting and sweating…

Mundy sighed. Such a shame that it had to end. Well, not exactly. They would still see each other at work. Although now, the dynamics between them completely flipped. They didn't work together but against each other. And it was no problem for both of them. Their professionalism and their age meant that they did not mix their work with what they held in their hearts.

Still, it would take some time to adjust to the new feeling of sleeping alone. Ha, the irony… Him who had slept alone all his life, with only the view of the star sprinkled sky as a companion, Mundy was now lacking company. He almost came to wonder how he used to live before Lucien brightened his days and nights. The van seemed lifeless, as if something vital was missing.

"Yo, Snipes, dinner's ready!" Scout banged at the door with his legendary delicateness.

"Right, comin'."

Mundy put on his hat and glasses before exiting the van. He went to the kitchen and sat at the table, at his usual place. Opposite him was an empty seat. It used to be Lucien's.

"Alright, fellows, here comes the soup for tonight." Engie announced as he put the - almost larger than him - pot on the table.

"Oh, man! Soup again?" Scout complained. "Please tell me there are no veggies in it at least?"

"Sorry, pardner, but it's winter and there's no soup on Earth without any veggies. C'mon, gimme your plate…!"

Scout pulled his plate towards himself.

"Scout…?" Engie insisted.

"Nah it's fine, I'll eat somethin' else."

"Chocolate bars and soda ain't a diet, son. C'mon now…!"

"Listen, Private!" Soldier banged his fist on the table and all the plates and cutlery shook. "You will eat your rations or by God I will make you eat the empty plate!" Soldier tried to pry the plate off of Scout's hands.

"What?! No! Get away!"

Sniper sighed. That would definitely be when Lucien would say something witty to calm Scout and make him obey...

"Gentlemen."

All the mercenaries raised their heads.

"I do apologise for being late. Unpacking proved to be longer than what I had anticipated at first." The new Spy took a seat on the last free chair, opposite Sniper.

Spy's entrance was enough of a distraction for Engie to take Scout's plate and serve him. The other plates were passed on, one after the other until all the mercenaries were served and started eating.

The indistinguishable chatter rose in the room between Demo's hearty laughter, Heavy's stories in cold Siberia and Soldier's war tales.

Sniper was staring emptily at his plate. The bits of vegetables floated lifelessly, half-drowning in the soup. He pushed them sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right. Like little shipwrecks, they bobbed up and down at the surface of the undisturbed ocean that the soup was.

Obviously, his colleagues noticed but they knew of his relationship with Spy so they guessed why he felt distraught. Given how much the Aussie liked his privacy, they didn't bother him and eventually, he was left alone at the table. Heavy had been on dishes duty that night and he did not disturb his colleague either. After he was finished, he left the room and closed the door.

But soon, Sniper heard it open again. It did not register completely as he was too absorbed in a day dream.

"Yo, Snipes?"

Scout's voice startled Sniper back to reality.

"Huh?"

"Sorry pal, Spy's askin' for ya."

Sniper frowned. No, his Spy wasn't asking for him. It was the other one.

"What does he want?" He mumbled back.

"Don't know. He said he needed some help with something and he knew you could do it."

Sniper sighed and grumbled. He pushed his chair back and pushed himself on his feet heavily.

"Right, I'll see what I can do for him…" He dragged his feet out of the kitchen and in the corridor.

"Snipes, your soup?" He heard Scout ask but he ignored him as he now faced the door with the knife symbol, and gave a short knock.

"Come in, Sniper."

The Aussie frowned and pushed the door. He found Spy sitting on the armchair that used to be Lucien's. He was giving his back to Sniper.

"You need some help with something, Scout said."

"Oui, pray close the door."

Sniper obeyed and gulped down hard. The last time his Spy asked him to make sure the door was locked was before they - ugh… It mattered little now.

"So, what d'you need? If it's to move somethin' big, you can ask Heavy, he'll get it sorted faster than me."

"Non, it is for something different. Please, take a seat."

"Spy, look, I'm not the small talk kind of guy, ok?" Sniper refused to sit and stood not too far from the door.

"Oh, I know."

"Yeah, you do, you spend your time stabbing me in the back without sayin' a word." Sniper answered, irritated that his new colleague would make him waste his time. He would much prefer to lock himself up in his van and stay there.

"I don't believe I have ever stabbed you."

Sniper's eyebrows jumped and he fluttered his eyes under the audacity of what the snake of a man was saying.

"What?" Confused beyond what words could express, Sniper took a deep breath. "Look, y'know what, I'm not gonna answer. I'm gonna just do whatever you need and leave. Now, out with it."

"Sniper…" Spy chuckled and Sniper felt his blood boil.

"Listen, either you tell me what you need or I'll just walk out of here, before I start throwing punches at you."

"You never raised your hand on anyone." Spy answered with such calm… Sniper hated it. "Even when Scout mocks you, or gets on your nerves, you ignore him."

Sniper raised an eyebrow.

"What…? Y-you've been watchin' us in this base…?"

"You never raised your hand or your voice against anyone." Spy went on. "You are way too soft for that."

"Stop it. Right. Bloody. Now." Sniper was now angry. The familiarity with which the new Spy spoke to him disgusted him. He sounded almost like Lucien but he wasn't him. No, that bastard wasn't him. He wasn't him and how the hell dared he speak like him.

"Or what? What will you do, hm? Run far away and shoot me in the head? Throw one of your precious jars at me? Pff, come on…!"

"I might start by rearrangin' your ugly mug, pop a few teeth with my fists, see how that goes, eh!" Sniper snapped, furious.

"You used to find my face very comely. Countless times you have told me so."

"Right, that's enough." Sniper took confident steps towards the Frenchman. He clenched his fist and threw it but Spy stood up and faced him, blocking his punch in his open palm. He twisted the Aussie's arm and brought him to his knees.

"Oh you wanker!"

"Only when you ask nicely."

"What?!"

Spy removed his mask and his hair gently floated in the air for an instant.

"What the hell?!"

Mundy felt his foe's grip loosen on his fist and his own knees went to jelly under the surprise.

"Bonsoir, mon amour." The voice with the lovely smirk said.

[Good evening, my love.]

"What are you doin' here?!"

Lucien was standing in front of Mundy, a sweet smile on his lips. He helped him back to his feet.

"Am I…? Am I dreamin' or something? Hold on…" Mundy removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here? Why aren't you with the other team?!"

Lucien chuckled and took his lover's hands to guide him and sit together on the sofa.

"I never left this base!"

"What?"

"When I took the enemy Spy on a tour of this suite, I had a chat with him. Neither him or I wanted to swap teams. So we agreed to swap our clothes instead. I stay here and he goes back to his base."

"Holy… Why didn't you say anything earlier, during dinner or something?" Mundy stretched his arm and wrist which hurt.

"Because no one knows about this but you, me, and the enemy Spy. There are cameras in the kitchen, living-room and corridors. I couldn't try anything suspicious there. Here however, we are safe, as you know."

"Bloody hell…" Mundy shook his head. "But hold on, why did the enemy Spy accept?"

"I think he has an arrangement with one of his teammates."

"An arrangement?" Mundy repeated. "What? They're gonna open a lemonade stand on the weekends?" He chuckled.

"Non, he is in a relationship with his Sniper."

Mundy's chuckle stopped sharp and his eyebrows jumped.

"Seriously?"

"Oui."

"Crikey, I had no idea…!"

Lucien chuckled.

"Anythin' else like that that I don't know?" He asked.

"Oh, plenty of things. But they matter very little. What matters now is that I am still here, with you." Lucien cupped his lover's face with his gloved hands and stroked his cheeks. Mundy relaxed and smiled.

"So the bloke I escorted to the taxi and stuff wasn't you?"

"Non, it was him."

"Oh, right." Mundy stared at his lover with half-lidded eyes. "It really broke me inside when - oh, bugger!" He exclaimed in shock.

"What?" Lucien asked.

"Before the taxi drove off…!"

"What happened?"

"I told the enemy Spy I loved him! In French!" Mundy exclaimed with round eyes. "Bloody hell!" He smacked a hand on his own mouth and blushed beyond his ears.

Lucien burst out laughing.

"Well, I do hope that he didn't say that he loved you back!"

"Oh… Bugger… Now he's gonna bully me even more at work…" Mundy lowered his head.

"Non, mon amour…" Lucien hugged him and pulled Mundy's head to rest on his shoulder. "I won't let him bully you, I promise. Besides, I doubt that he will."

"Hope so."

"I am sure of it. He is a good man. A less good spy, but a good man." Lucien said. "Now, please, look at me." He cupped Mundy's half ashamed, half distraught face. "You need something to soothe your nerves, mon amour. And to fill your stomach. Come along." Lucien took his hand and led Mundy to the kitchen attached to his suite. "Let us cook something for you."

"Can we get pizza?"

"Non, Mundy. Why get pizza when I can cook for you?"

"Well…"

"Non! My cooking skills are godly, I will not tolerate that you should think otherwise!" Lucien said as he tied an apron around his waist and washed his hands. Mundy followed him left and right.

"I was gonna say it would save you the trouble, but ok…" Mundy chuckled.

"What trouble? There is no trouble! My lover is hungry. It is my duty to remedy that." Lucien went to his fridge.

"Fair enough. Can I still hug you though?"

"Oui, you may. But do not disturb me, understood?" Lucien emerged from the fridge and Mundy stuck himself to him, from behind.

"Can I at least breathe?!"

"I shall think about it and let you know." Lucien playfully answered as he grabbed a cutting board and a knife. Mundy rested his head on Lucien's shoulder, watching him cut vegetables and some meat. He liked it there, hugging his lover and spending time with him. Lucien would occasionally feed him a bit of carrot, or tomato.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you say that to me?" Lucien asked and he interrupted his chopping.

"Say what?"

"That you love me, in French. You never did."

"Yeah, uh... Je t'aime, Lu'."

Lucien bit his lip and rolled his head back to lean it on Mundy's shoulder.

"Again…"

"Je t'aime."

He closed his eyes and smiled. Mundy hugged him tighter and left a kiss on his cheek.

"Mundy?"

"Yeah?"

"Your pronunciation is terrible."

"Oi!"

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #dontneedavalentine2021

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factual-fantasy · 4 years ago

Text

Got 20 more asks, with some art this time! :}

Thank you! I’m very glad you like the way I draw them!

As to how I draw their glasses or any tips I have.. I just draw them exactly the way the show draws them, except they’re more square than rectangle.

Some tips?

Eyebrows go over the glasses, always. The little line coming down in the center of the glasses touches where the eyes connect. The bottom of the lenses go right about to the middle of the nose. Don’t make them too big, leave room for the eyebrows and the forehead. Make sure the glasses peek over the edge of the face, but don’t make them too wide, leave room for the sideburns and skin by the glasses arms. The glasses arms go right above where the ear connects to the head.

I would suggest looking up some references, from both the show and from other artists. My way of drawing glasses aren't perfect, but clearly they’re decent because you wanted to know how I draw them XD

Just do some research, look up some screen shots and try to redraw them. Heck, even trace them. Eventually you’ll find a way of drawing them that you like, like I did. :}

Oh! Thank you!.. But uh.. polite pass. I don’t drink coffee.. ●﹏●;

Thank you, for everything you’ve said.

I don’t think I’m okay anymore. I’ve been trying so hard to get my old self back, but its just not working. My energy, my motivation, my smile, everything, its just all gone. I’m so overwhelmed with all this doubt and uncertainty that I just don’t now how to function anymore.

Drawing is the only thing in my life I work towards and care about, and I am not exaggerating. But I’m loosing it. I don’t know how to do it anymore. I feel like pieces of my brain are slowly rotting away or something. I just fell awful and escaping to my little imaginary world isn’t working anymore.

Its like all the life is just getting sucked out of me. Although my new job is helping, I don't know if that’s going to be the cure. Peoples opinion of me weighs down so heavily on my shoulders that I hide my true self away in shame. I’m so afraid of being hated or upsetting anyone that you don't even know my real name.

I don't know what to do anymore. My memory is certainly getting worse and I have absolutely no drive to do anything other than drawing what so ever, and even THAT is starting to fail. I must be broken, like a shattered mirror, but I’m missing some pieces and don't even have a way to glue them back together if I somehow find them again anyway, so why even bother looking for them?

I just don’t know what to do anymore. Getting this job better fix it.

Of course! ♡ඩᴗඩ♡

Except for Big Blue. He’s “that guy is huge and can literally kick me to the moon” sized.

My Decepticons? In my brain soup currently. I haven’t found the energy or the motivation to draw them yet.

In the story? They’re all aboard the nemesis as far as I have decided.

I actually don’t drink any hot beverages.. I don’t drink coffee, I’ve never had tea and hot chocolate makes my stomach queasy. I don’t even really drink milk. or sodas or anything else. I just drink water, only water. That’s enough for me.

As for the characters though? Well let me think... let me split it onto categories.

Tea drinkers:

Brown Suburban

Ranger

Coffee drinkers:

Honda

A.T.Dragster

Hot chocolate drinkers:

Jeepy

White Truck

Miata

Beluga

U.M.Dragster

Both tea and coffee drinkers:

Escort

Suburban

Vega

Volvo

Green Truck

All of the above:

Beluga

None of the above:

Red Van

Hot Apple cider vinegar:

Bash Buggy

The primary reason why Bash Buggy was freaking out is because he was just scooped up off the ground out of no where.

He’s basically legally blind, so he didn’t instantly go, “Oh this is fine its just Brown Suburban.” He just went

Not that I can remember.. But I have made some AUs and I made a little brown puppy a part of one of them, does that count?

I have never played any of them myself.. but I have watched others play them and I have always liked watching them freak out over FNAF 2.

I also like FNAF 2 because it has almost all of my favorite characters in it. :}

I believe Ratchet would’ve had to inject the Synthetic Energon into himself when Volvo wasn’t around, because Volvo certainly would’ve stopped him if he was there. Even if it meant wrestling Ratchet to the ground to get that stuff out of his hand.

But sadly, Ratchet would have been completely infected by the time Volvo would have been around. He would’ve probably found Ratchet on the floor when Raf was trying to wake him up.

At first he’d think that he was hurt, or had that same “heart attack” thing like Escort did. He would panic and try to wake him. Ratchet would stir and groan about them being so noisy or something. When Ratchet sits up and looks Volvo in the eyes is when he’d see it.

Volvo’s entire demeanor would change, and he’d just look devastated.

“Ratchet... y.. you didn’t...“ Raf would look up and ask, “Didn’t.. what?”

Volvo would be so overwhelmed with the realization of what Ratchet had done, that he couldn’t even really respond to Raf.

I cant remember the episode very well.. but I believe as the episode progressed, Volvo would be constantly following Ratchet around. He knows that this stuff very dangerous because its incomplete, but he doesn’t know what its going to do to Ratchet.

He would try to get Ratchet to chill out when ever he’s about to do something stupid, and would’ve been there to try and reason with him when he wanted to fight Bulkhead.

He would’ve been there when Optimus and the gang confronted them. Ratchet might’ve shot some nasty comment Volvo’s way and Volvo would’ve been hurt, but he also would’ve gotten a lot more worried about Ratchet too. Getting that nasty comment really just confirmed to Volvo that Ratchet’s lost it. The Synthetic Energon has taken over and he worries about what might happen next.

When he heard about Ratchet getting hurt and bleeding out, he freaked out of course. Him and the other medics would’ve patched him up and Volvo would watch over him. He’d hover around nearby and check his vitals more often than is necessary.

After Ratchet woke up and had that chat with Optimus that I think I remember him having.. I feel like he would make a point to find Volvo and talk to him about it.

Volvo may be a younger medic, but he’s still tough. Thing’s don’t get to him as easily.. well, not normally.

But when Ratchet first woke up? The look on Volvo’s face spoke volumes. The way Volvo acted out of character and practically became glued to Ratchet was concerning. He wasn't reacting to the situation in the way Ratchet believed he would.

When he asked, Volvo would respond with something along the lines of,

“When I saw the color of your optics, I knew exactly what you had done. And it.. it frightened me.“ Volvo would begin to look saddened.

“I didn’t know what was going to happen and I.. I just.. I didn’t know how to help you..“ Volvo would look hurt, and like a child honestly. This tough little medic was genuinely struggling to cope with the situation.

“I now realize that.. I didn’t truly understand just how dire our situation is.. “

Volvo would fiddle with his hands nervously for a second.

“I understand why you took that risk, but still it hurts to know that you felt the need to walk into something that dangerous for the slight chance it might make things a little better..“

Essentially, Volvo didn't really fully know just how bad their situation is. And seeing his friend risk his life like that really got the point across like a kick to the gut.

They’d talk it over and get through it at the end of the day, but now Volvo has a new perspective of this situation, and of Ratchet.

Glad to hear I’m not alone in this! :}

Despite its controversy and my personal saltiness towards certain aspects of this series, I overall genuinely really did enjoy watching the Bayverse movies. All of them.

The Bumblebee movie was fantastic, and I like Transformers: Prime. But that’s it, just those three. :/

Thank you for all the compliments!! :> I will do my best to keep these things up!.. Even though its becoming rather difficult..

Thank you! I worked very hard on it! ♡(இ﹏இ`｡)♡.

SPEAKING OF VEGAS DESIGN!!--

As I am writing this, all 16 transformer ocs are getting a make over. (mostly Jeepy) So keep and eye on this post! Because if someone wants to use them for references, the post could suddenly change and the old designs will be outdated!

Don’t be so shy! XD These asks are fun! :}

Now Bash Buggy.. he wouldn’t actually register what you just did if you kissed him on the cheek.

The protective plating on his face has been peeled back so if you kissed him on the cheek, you would sting him a little and you would get a little bit of Energon on your lips.

He’d wince and look at you like?? What was that?? He cant see the Energon on your lips so he wouldn’t put 2 and 2 together.

But if you told him that you just kissed him on the cheek, he’d then get so confused and flustered. Like, “I?? Wh-.. but-.. thanks?? Uh??”

#my response #transformers #transformers prime #transformer ocs

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every1studio · 5 years ago

Text

“endless possibilities” [ateez: san + wooyoung]

(do not read if you are UNCOMFORTABLE with this type of content)

genre: SMUT + female reader

ficstyle: bulletpoints + [PART 1] [PART 2] [SPECIAL]

prompt: you had a little secret and when San and Wooyoung found out, they used it against you + a little surprise at the end

note: THIS IS ALL A WORK OF FICTION AND ISN’T MEANT TO BE PORTRAYED IN ANY OTHER WAY

“thank you for always cleaning up the classroom every day, Ms. Y/N~” your teacher patted you on the small of your back before leaving

you forced a smile through, hoping that they’d leave as soon as possible

throughout the whole time, you had the clench your thighs together so that no one could see the slick of arousal right beneath your skirt

you prayed that no one was able to smell the warm heat coming from you

you desperately struggled to get through the day

you cursed under your breath for every second that went by; you told yourself that you would show San and Wooyoung that you weren’t a goody two-shoe valedictorian everybody knew

when it seemed like everyone had left the building, San and Wooyoung found you in your classroom sitting on top of the teachers desk with your legs crossed

San whistles as his pants get tight at the sight of you

Wooyoung loosens his tie and unbutton the first couple of buttons of his shirt, “Y/N.. you are just as desperate as we are... aren’t you?”

you sharply exhaled as you rolled your eyes, “hurry up and get over here”

“oooohh..” San and Wooyoung exchanged sarcastically surprised looks at each other before making their way towards you

San circles around the table so that he’s behind you as Wooyoung is in front of you

“I don’t even know what to start with, Woo~”

“the possibilities are truly endless, San~”

“I think kitten’s gotten a little impatient, hasn’t she, Wooyoung?” San smirks as he places his arms on the table, caging you in

“bet you she’s a virgin-”

“I’m not.. and I’m on birth control..”

“I guess she’s more of a freak than we originally thought, Wooyoung~”

you swiveled around to meet San face to face

you pushed him back into the teacher’s chair with your foot and scooted closer to grab his hair, “and yes, this kitten is very impatient so you better use keep those snarky comments to yourself and you better put that mouth to good use..”

San and Wooyoung exchanged pure faces of surprise at your tone

“yes ma’am~” San pushes your legs apart; he’s instantly intoxicated by your scent, causing him to get to work

you roll your eyes back into your head

finally feeling some relief after holding in for the whole day

Wooyoung leans into the table to lick your lingering essence; smiling as soon as he makes eye contact with you

“you really are as sweet as you smell..” he climbs onto the desk and tightly grabs your chest from behind

there was too many things going on; San’s tongued wrapped around your clit and Wooyoung nipping at his previous love marks as he played with your sensitive nipples

you had one hand roughly grasping at San’s roots and you used the other to roughly snap Wooyoung’s head around so that his lips were met with yours

you three stayed in this position for a moment before you felt an orgasm coming on

you pushed the boys away

they were concerned; scared that they did something wrong

“you both are getting uncomfortable, right?” you exhaled as you rubbed San’s bulge with your foot and Wooyoung’s with your hand

both boys started to breathe a little heavier

patiently waiting for your next move

you pushed San all the way back into his seat so you could rub your ass on his clothed dick as you turned around to pull Wooyoung closer by his tie

San threw his head back as you kept pressure on his growing cock, which was probably raging with red at this moment

Wooyoung sat on the edge of the table so that you were facing his dick but you didn’t give him any attention

your hands were on his thick thighs; only for support as you focused on pleasuring San

Wooyoung has always been a true-sadistic dominant but the way you were salivating for his dick made him want to give you anything you wanted

he lifted your face by the chin with his finger so that you’d shift your focus on him, “I’m getting tired of waiting.. what am I, baby girl? a support table?”

you smirked at him as you completely wedged San’s raging bulge in between your ass, “a support table with a pair of thick thighs with a side of dick”

Wooyoung cocks his brow as San’s moans echo in the background

“my dick should be the main course, not the side dish,” he pulls one of your hands off of his tense thigh and on his belt buckle, “if you finish the main course, I’ll give you dessert..”

San got up in a fast motion, as you were unbuckling Wooyoung’s belt and carefully taking out his dick out of his precum-stained boxers; causing you to fall face forward onto Wooyoung’s tender cock

“AH SHIT SAN, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

San took his dick out of his pants, “she’s teasing us too much I can’t take it anymore..”

he lined himself up to your entrance as he applied pressure to your hips

“if you want to wait for her to tease you into submission, go ahead.. I’m making my move now-”

San went all the way into you, making sure that his hilt made contact with your ass; he moved way too fast and way too rough for you to comprehend if it hurt or if it felt good at first

but the questionable pain soon washed over with pleasure and the sounds of your whimpering moans traveling into the hallways

San’s dick was of average size and girth; it was quite veiny and when he pushed in and out of you, even at a rapid pace, you could feel every single one of his vein

Wooyoung ran his fingers through your hair before pulling it back so that you could feel the fury in his eyes, “I’m. Still. Waiting..”

“I’m sorry..” you tried with all your strength to pull as close as you can towards Wooyoung

just visually, Wooyoung’s penis was different than San’s

it was an average size but he was oh-so thick

you were worried that you couldn’t fit him in your mouth; let alone anywhere

but you had to persevere

you latched onto his dick with your mouth and Wooyoung finally felt satisfied to get some sort of pleasure

you could feel his dick getting harder and harder in your throat

your eyes welt up with tears as you fought through your gag reflex

“I don’t think she deserves this good fucking since she’s been so catty with us.. she’s definitely enjoying this too much.. “ San managed to say through breathy moans and groans

Wooyoung pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail back, so that you were still working on sucking on his dick and looking up into his piercing eyes at the same time, “I think we’ll use her as we please as long as she doesn’t get anything out of it, if you know what I mean..”

San doesn’t say anything but goes faster and harder than before causing you to lurch forward deeper around Wooyoung

the vibrations of your moans made his hips match San’s speed

their sounds combined made you insanely wetter than you already were

you needed air

you needed a break

you needed to cum

but more importantly, you needed them to cum

Wooyoung could feel your nails claw into this thighs; San could feel you uncontrollably clench around San

that was when they pushed out of you

leaving you gasping for air

Wooyoung lets your hair fall around your face; the strands of hair sticking to your face

your arousal was radiating heat even after San pulled away from you

you whimpered at the lost of contact and tried to sit back onto San

he kept his hands on your hips, away from his cock that was slicked with your juices

you drooled for Wooyoung’s dick wanting to taste his cum but his hands were pushing you by the shoulder

“I just want to satisfy you two.. that’s all.. I don’t even need to cum.. “

Wooyoung pulls you up to meet his lips; passionately shoving his tongue into your mouth that still held the saltiness of his precum

San leans forward as his fingers enter you quite rigorously, “you don’t even need to cum? you heard that, Woo? she wants to be our little cum dumpster~”

Wooyoung looks into your desperate puppy eyes, “I think she’s been holding out for a little bit too long, shouldn’t she be rewarded?”

San gives out a half-hearted laugh, “you’re spoiling her..”

“so Y/N.. where do you want me?” Wooyoung smiles as he caresses your hair out of your face

“c-can I really cum?” you whimpered as you clenched around San’s fingers

Wooyoung kisses your forehead, “I’ll let you cum but you also have to ask San”

you looked over your shoulder, giving San those same eyes you gave to Wooyoung

San tsked as he took his fingers out of you, “on one condition...”

he readjusts everyone’s position

San pulled Wooyoung by his collar and threw him into the chair

he then bent you over so that you were a 90 degrees angle to the table, ass in front of Wooyoung and his cock was in front of your mouth

“you have to keep eye contact with me as Wooyoung and I ram our dicks into your slutty holes..”

you patiently batted your eyelashes as you braced yourself

Wooyoung moved first, he had get up from his seat to get a better angle and when he pushed into you, he had to really push

“h-hah.. baby girl..ngh- you’re way too tight..” he gritted through his teeth

you embarrassingly gave out a loud and whiny moan, “it’s- fuck. not me.. you’re just- just too big~”

San got a little jealous and shoved his perfectly molded dick into your mouth, “don’t forget that I’m here too, kitten..”

once again your eyes were welling up with tears from immense pleasure

as much as San wanted to keep composed, you were way too good at your job

he started to whimper and rut even faster into your throat

you were intrigued with his facials; he looked like an omega in heat

his brows were furrowed as sweat rolled down his sideburns; his fingers were pulling at your scalp and it encouraged you to go deeper and harder

Wooyoung seemed to keep you moaning around San’s dick

the thickness of his cock hit more than all the right places; every thrust forward allowing San to hit the deeper and deeper down your through

Wooyoung took off his uniform tie to wrap it around your neck, tying it into a leash

you clench around him every time he pulled it back; he made sure to pull it enough to effect you but not cause you to get extremely lightheaded

this effected San too; he could feel the tie tighten around his cock with every tug

you mind started to get foggy as you forcefully clenched around Wooyoung

San whimpering got louder and louder and his hips couldn’t stop jackhammering into your throat

it was all a domino effect

San came first; he pulled your head into him so that your nose was at the base, still rutting as he rides out his orgasm in your mouth; his cum kept on spurting and spurting down your throat, you were wondering when he’d stop so you could take a breath

then you came; your eyes rolled back as you convulsively spasmed around Wooyoung’s cock; San’s dick kept your cries of pleasures muffled but you couldn’t get a break until Wooyoung came

when he did, you felt an enormous amount of cum rush into like a raging waterfall and he still didn’t stop thrusting roughly

you continued to shake from overstimulation even after Wooyoung rode through his orgasm

after San rode through his orgasm, he slowly slid out of your mouth and Wooyoung followed suit

the three of you had to catch your breath

San was leaning forward using his arms to support himself up on the desk

Wooyoung fell back into the chair, watching you continue to spasm from the stimulation

you were a mess; sprawled out onto your teacher’s desk

San and Wooyoung exchanged a satisfied smirk as they help cleaned you up

you couldn’t even stand up properly; you had to support yourself onto San

“so kitten, what did you think?” San tucks your hair behind your ears

the adrenaline calmed down and you started to blush, “I think that two heads are better than one..”

Wooyoung laughs as he adjusts your uniform, “like literally or literaturely?”

“that’s not a real word..could I get my underwear back please” you muttered through your reddened face

San smirked and bent down to help you put it back on, “since you asked so nicely~”

“aren’t you glad we caught you watching us from that little cleaning closet over there?”

“Woo, I think that’s enough teasing for one day, yeah? we’ll clean up the room for you, are you able to wait for us at the entrance of the school?” San smiles with his dimples

you nodded and made your way out; using the desks and walls to get out into the hallway

you were almost out of the building but the staircase was a nightmare

you legs gave out at the last couples of steps but someone caught you

“oh gosh.. I’m so sorry-”

“it’s alright, Ms. Y/N..”

your eyes widened, it was your homeroom teacher, Mr. Park Seonghwa

“Mr. Park.-”

he brings attention to his phone, “seems like those two aren’t the only ones who know your dirty little secret..”

you were scared of what he would do; turn in the evidence and have you expelled? tarnish your reputation? the possibilities were endless

your teacher leans in close, “you didn’t think they were the only ones to sniff out how sweet you smelled under that skirt, don’t you, Ms. Y/N?”

although your teacher was extremely hot, he was your teacher

you both could hear the boys making their way closer to the staircase

“don’t worry, I’ll keep you secret safe with me.. for now..” Mr. Park makes his way out of the building and out of sight

you were going to call out to him to ask what he meant by that but the boys already tossed their arms around your shoulders, “you wanna come over for round two?”

you had to keep what you found out between you and your teacher; there’s no way you could get those two boys involved, “could you guys just walk me home instead?”

“anything for you kitten-”

“anything for you babygirl-”

the boys said at the same time

the boys argued what would be your pet name; but that became background noise as the words of your teacher echoed in the back of your head

what did he mean for now?

End.

[ masterlist + guidelines ]

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