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ickybby · 5 months ago

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and to think that the escalation of this indecency is the culmination of an atrocious rift in their relationship coming to a head. the discovery of fawn's filthy secret, the first of many to irreparably alter the course of their lives. for the better, no doubt ( at least in the eyes of the degenerate siblings ). perhaps that's partly what makes them simultaneously the best and worst matches for one another. what would've typically decimated a typical sibling bond has merely served as a gateway drug. the disgusting meet cute for these parts of their personalities a baseline for the sick reshaping of their precious relationship. "like you could stop me." she's always been a nosy little sister. always tugging at her older brother's sleeve to be included in whatever he was up to, or flat-out bulldozing her way into spending time together, whether it annoyed him or not. now, her lustful adoration is a hypermutation of that once innocent love. "mmm, don't get me wrong. the encouragement is great! now i get to go through your shit guilt-free. i did lie about your favorite hoodie by the way. totally stole some of your comfier boxers too. figured you oughta know now before you throw most of my clothes away and find a few of your things in there."

fawn's so small. not solely petite in nature, the youthful immaturity, inexperience, and recklessness are often combined into a volatile concoction. the brunette beauty has had little time, if any, to build her identity well enough to know what is and isn't her. not that she's level-headed enough to see that clearly either, not with jonah there to further corrupt and mold her into a mockery of a heavenly creature. not necessarily a fallen angel, when the girl would've needed to achieve a saintly reputation. she's fully content with being nothing more than an enthusiastic participant to her condemnation. jonah's eager little aid while he takes the lead on their downfall. truly the definition of a devil in disguise. "y'know, if anything i've been getting more people buggin' me about why they don't see us around town as often anymore. i told someone working at the pretzel shack at the mall that you were trying to cut carbs. i don't even know what a carb is, jonah..." she knows what he's saying is true, he knows it too. he's shoved his fingers deep enough into her cunt by now to feel the effects degrading and hurting his precious little sister has. "yeah," a nervous giggle bursts out of her. "i really am fucked up, hm? hurt me. make me cry. control every single aspect of my life. god, i want your cock." the last dreamy, distracted admission is more for herself than for her older brother. "oh! i don't wanna wear a bra when we go shopping. no panties, neither. pretty please? how long do you think you can last before we end up in a dressing room or a family restroom for a quick fuck? i hope it's not too long."

"dr. frogbert to you, he worked so hard for his doctorate. and you're not close enough with him like that yet..." she trails off, her playful scolding no longer relevant to her as her big brother strips in front of her. fawn's eyes widened, lips parted in divine awe while coming face to face with a man's cock for the first time. her man, now. "ah well, don't worry, you'll all get acquainted real soon." she's attempting to tease while comically distracted; thrilled with the way his swollen head looks oozing precum. so much so, it takes her a second or two to process the generous offer to make those decisions. brows furrow along with the shake of her head. "what if... i don't want it?" a pout of those spit-slick lush lips, genuinely confused and frustrated by the overwhelming choices at hand. "whatever you think is best. please don't make me figure it out when your cock is out in front of my face." she hasn't been capable of looking jonah in the eyes since he dropped his pants, seemingly mesmerized by every inch of this length and every touch he gives himself. "i'm never gonna be able to focus, and if you won't fuck me until i pick... i'm picking tears." absentmindedly, her hand caresses her slender stomach as it trails down to the heart decorating her pretty little cunt. fingertips toy with her creamy arousal. when she decides to finally stop gawking at his erect cock, it's to maintain eye contact with her older brother as she sucks clean each individual finger that was just in her cunt.

how quickly jonah had managed to push past the illicit job his sister held, how instead of focusing on the sexual acts she carried out for her audience he was now wondering about what she could show HIM. never would he have thought his doe eyed sister could be so inherently sensual, lips he wishes he could kiss forever and a tight body he yearns to own — which he will, he's sure of it now. she may willingly show her youthful body to faceless viewers but for him jonah was positive she would crack herself open and let him climb inside if he so much as asked. but wouldn't he do the same for her? push everyone else away so that he could devote himself entirely to fawn? their love was a sick mutation of what sibling love should be and yet he can't say that it doesn't feel natural, as smooth and instinctual as breathing. "anything, you name it and i'll share it with you — hell you can search my browser history if you want." would likely stumble upon disgusting videos of women being spread wide, step siblings fucking like possessed animals on the family couch, groping hands exploring pretty women's bodies and using them. but there was no need to keep his desires a secret, faw was the only person who knew him ; all of him.

"easy, we just need to get rid of the clothes that hide your body — baggy jumpers, loose trousers y'know all of that stuff isn't really YOU anymore, is it?" the picture she paints is so salacious he's almost drooling, his docile sister modelling tight clothing and barely there lingerie for him to either approve or disapprove of. "i don't think anyone in those stores are gonna have an issue with me helping you make decisions, not around here anyways." they were siblings, after all. jonah could hide his relentless hungering for fawn for the sake of the sales assistant they would undoubtedly know, someone either fawn or himself had gone to school with, maybe with a friend in common — although that was much more likely in fawn's case than his own. with such a perfect pair of tits jonah can't help but think it would be a shame to not play with them, pinch and tug those hard nipples so they practically popped against her smooth skin. admission that tumbles from her lips robs the male of his breath for a moment, is this real? his sister was . . . she was everything he could ever dream of in a girl. "like when i make you cry a little too? bet your pussy's fuckin' leaking so bad right now just 'cause i'm tugging on these tits." her tone is unsure, as if she's afraid jonah may not appreciate her truth — how could she not know him? guess that his cock was aching, balls full and uncomfortable beneath his trousers. "i'm gonna hurt you so good, faw. so fuckin' good don't worry about it, okay?"

plush toys carefully arranged on her bed are so intrinsically fawn that jonah can't resist the twisted temptation to fuck her amongst them — to take her virginity while their beady eyes watched the entire depraved scene. "oh, you almost lost frogbert", he teases, barely holding back a laugh as she reaches for the green frog, probably bought for her when she was a spoiled eight or nine year old. the moment she settles herself and spreads those slim legs jonah loses patience with his zipper, yanking it downwards as his hues dance across her body. maybe it was the fumes swirling around him or maybe it was just fawn but shit, his sister was so beautiful it hurt. shoving his trousers and boxers down to the floor jonah exposes his hardened cock as she begins to ramble, hand fisting his leaking length as his brows inch upwards. hm. made sense she wasn't on birth control, also made sense he hadn't brought a condom to confront his stubborn little sister. "tomorrow we can get you the pill, how about that? then . . . then birth control, if you want?" aches to control her every choice, yet seemingly draws the line at added hormones being introduced to her body. "but i wanna . . . fuck faw, i really wanna cum inside you. it'll feel amazing, for both of us and you want that, don't you?" he's propping one knee on the end of her bed, hand stroking his thick shaft with a force that both thrills and hurts. keeping his arousal at bay for when he finally gets to stretch out her wet little cunt for the first time.

#sugcrbites #jonah x fawn #queue ... 🌱#fawn ... 🌱

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kalinawtokilig · 4 years ago

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A Silly S/O that shares one braincell with his best friend

Who doesn’t love a silly, goofy, S/O?

Pair(s) : Akaashi x Reader, Kenma x Reader, Suna x Reader, Kunimi x Reader

(((Ahhhhhahhh bruhhh I literally put the dying inside parted hair dark beauties here,,, ✨ blessing it ✨)))

{This is my first time doing headcanons,, i apologize as it is very early morning and i dont sleep so i may be passing out as soon as i post this ahahahhahahaahha)))))

{Akaashi Keiji x Reader}

(Ohh shi- Aight, we startin off with setters huh)

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To be fair, Akaashi met you through Bokuto, you chaotic duo, whilst Bokuto being a particularly sunny, bubbly guy, its fair he’s friends with someone as goofy as him

It’s like,,, one of those kinds of friendships you have with Akaashi, whenever you guys are seated next to each other for a group project or simply having a one-on-one convo, you seem to have enraptured him with how funny you are

for example, you being a silly person, you seem to have gotten into a argument with Bokuto, seeing as there was only one braincell, thus being you as the only braincell between the two of you, a juicebox and two of you being dumbasses,,, You proposed to Bokuto to poke a straw through the box so you both can drink from either ends of the straw,,,while bokuto,,, proposed of cutting,,,the juice box,, in half,,, to share,,,

(No cap, i saw my brother and friend argue and do this,,, it was a waste of a caprisun and i had to drink wine to forget that this is what I put up wit,,,yet i recorded it

Akaashi may have facepalmed when you told him this, but the genuine look of truth and kindness made him soft for you when you continued about your small mishaps

This mans smiles faintly, so when you talk about a joke or something stupidly funny, he can’t help but have a full on smile, cause you speak so passionately about your small and oblivious situations you keep getting yourself into and the endearing solutions you have

when you get together, it’s no boring life at all

Akaashi is always there to rope you in when things get too hectic, especially around Bokuto, but when its you, he can’t help but grin at how bright you can be when you think of funny ideas for today and the next day

Kozume Kenma x Reader

(OHH SHI- another pretty setter, lucky day :3c)

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Ohhh boi this is gonna be so many jokes

You and Kuroo share a braincell, that being annoying Kenma ((That’s what Kuroo thinks at least))

Kenma never can get a break,, you being the manager of Nekoma and being good friends with Kuroo, even Yaku is getting a headache

Kenma looks forward to you talking to him ((He finds you genuinely interesting when you pointed out a creative way - more like a newfounded loophole - to one of his video games,, he got kinda hooked on you when you kept telling him possible ways to beat the boss using a weak weapon,, he thought you were buggin,,, nah,, he won and trusted your somewhat foolish advice,,, beating up a miniboss with a stick that had been leveled up from being used worked,,, he doesn’t know what goes on your mind,,, but he wants to know more)))

You tell Kenma funny jokes about the newest character in the game he’s playing, not to mention your own headcanons about them

Kuroo joins in, much to Kenma’s dismay, but with a small smile he likes seeing you enjoy yourself as you talk odd with his best friend

You call him alot of nicknames due to his hair and attitude

“Aye,, wassup puddinghead?” - “Lil’Calico, how’s it hangin?” - “Tiramisu cup, ya lookin sweet today!”

Its,, really cute how you think of him, make up nicknames and have this real attitude when you see him

Kuroo kinda ruins them tho, adding an annoying comment about the nickname and Kenma S C O W L S

OHHHH When you ask him on a date, you use the most creative one liner

“Instead of me being support how bout I join your party and be your player 2? We’ll use Kuroo as a support, Rooster-Attack!”

*cue adorable pose*

-Kuroo in the back : “ROOSTER, WHO YOU CALLING ROOSTER YOU-”

You start attacking him with chemistry insult and he dodges it with another chem attack

Kenma has never been so flustered nor entertained before

Overall, Kenma believes that you being a cute, silly, s/o is literally the best thing that has ever happened to him,, (Besides meeting Shoyo of course,, but then again,, that’s always the best thing that can happen to anyone, have you seen that boy’s harem?)

Suna Rintaro x Reader

((ooooo,,,, man,,,, this mans,,,, he got me,,,, everywhere,,, lmao i pimp him and he isn’t the only one)))

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Suna ,, I pimp you

OH GAWD, the MIYA TWINS

It’s like,,, an extra Miya,,, but more like,, cousin instead of sibling Miya but still family Miya,, ya get me????

You transferred in during your second year and man,,, having Atsumu and Osamu pushing you to be their manager,,, its been trouble ever since,, even Aran cannot handle the amount of boondoggle that happens in practice

Okay, listen, you, YOU, are the type to be silly, yes, but in a way that makes Atsumu and Osamu start arguing over something silly you said and the twins start fighting because they started to drift somewhere else.

Basically you drench the kerosene, light it, and leave it for the twins to fan the flames,, they are rolling and causing chaos

You and Suna always record it to blackmail them

Not to mention, you being the wacky person you are, you rope the twins into your shit,,,

Since your last name is NOT Miya, but your other parent’s name, many of Atsumu’s fangirls don’t,, appreciate you

You can’t help but dangle funny insults towards your ego-filled cousin, having the fangirls wreak havoc and chase you around

you would and can stop,, buts its too funny seeing them get mad over silly things like how you perceive Atsumu to be an ugly sleeper that farts and wakes up from it (( You lived it as kids when you and your family slept over the twins’ place, Osamu and you have many videos of it))

Suna is usually the one hiding you away from the rabid fans who seem to want to defend Atsumu’s perfect image honor.

This man cannot fathom the amount of trouble you get into sometimes, esp. with the twins

When you two get together, you think of the most diabolical and hysterical plans, Suna there to record and by your side when things start to get out of hand

Suna doesn’t express many emotions, but when you finally get him to show a reaction cause of something you did, whether it be a joke or starting a Miya Twins brawl, he can’t help but have the small ghost of a smile when you’re not looking

Kunimi Akira x Reader

(((ooo another parted hair dark male,, Me likeyy)))

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You and Kindaichi are like,, a mesh of puns and anger

Puns on your side and Anger on Kindaichi’s side

For Kunimi, he finds it entertaining, the dynamic you two have

Though Kunimi doesn’t express emotions as much, ((like the other parted hair babes)) he likes to fan the flames to see his best friend angry

Kindaichi doesn’t get ‘Mad’, he knows its for jokes,,, it’s just,,, your way of thinking can be so mind blowing that he doesn’t know how some of the things go your way it makes him want to know but he gets annoyed when you tease him about it

Kunimi likes to see the way your accomplished smile shines, despite having silly pranks or stupid puns, you seem to get his type of humor

you like to play jokes on Kindaichi, usually poking him when he’s not looking that he jumps out of his skin and he pokes you back and you poke him back, then it becomes a poking war and Kunimi steps to side to see you laugh and when you accidentally poke Kindachi too hard in the gut, he topples over and gives you the finger

You say something among the lines, “Me? If anything, I won and you’re just salty, like that blond beanpole from Karasuno. Right, Kunimi?”

Kunimi, I feel, isn’t the type to full out laugh, but snort or hide his laugh with a scoff behind his hand,, you know,,, like all these other men seem to do,, i get that vibe from them

Dating, nothing changes but the teasing from your side is not overwhelming, yet its not underwhelming,, its actually a good wavelength to match with his own retorts

Kunimi doesn’t hate that you rope him into your schemes, no matter how ridiculous, if it means he gets to see you smile and look at him with those crinkled eyes that seem to glow with joy,,, he doesn’t mind the effort (But he won’t tell you that)

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((Ngl, this is kinda hard,, yet I tried lmao)

#akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi imagine #akaashi x you #kenma x you #kenma x reader #kenma imagine #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #kunimi imagines #kunimi x reader #kunimi akira x you #kunimi akira x reader

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fics-of-culture · 4 years ago

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Nightmares and Angels

Requested by anonymous

Summary: The littlest Winchester has been experiencing hallucinations and nightmares of her brothers covered in blood. Can a certain whiskey eyed angel come to the rescue?

Words: 2,123

Warnings: Blood, Hallucinations, Nightmares. Reader has PTSD. Possible misrepresentation of mental illness. (I personally don’t have many experiences with PTSD or hallucinations so take everything here with a grain of salt.)

It was late. And you found yourself milling around the bunker. Again. Trying to find anything to occupy your time with in order to avoid going back to your room. You were positive that if you went to bed you’d have nightmares. You’d been having them a lot recently. Along with some other... issues that you’d yet to address. Today had been especially difficult for you in that regard. Your older brother Dean had been in the kitchen making dinner when you had another one of your ‘attacks’ as you called them.

“You want bacon on your burger?” Dean turned away from the veggies he’d been chopping to face you. You were seated at the kitchen table, nose buried in a book and just enjoying your brother's company when he had asked. Being caught off guard by the question, you let out a little ‘huh?’ “The burger.” Dean repeated. “You want bacon on it or- Ah shit!” He exclaimed suddenly. You stood from your chair to check on your brother when you saw it. A steady trail of red streamed from his thumb onto the cutting board. Apparently Dean had nicked his finger while he was distracted. You froze in place. Images flashed rapidly before you as Dean grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding. You watched in horror as the blood seeped through the towel. Slowly, it continued to spread until it was running as a steady steam down his arm pooling around his shoes. You took an unsteady step back, priming yourself to run out the door when a pair of fingers snapped in front of you. Dean was staring at you with concern. Hand wrapped in a towel completely devoid of blood. “I said can you get me a bandaid?” Dean asked. Watching you curiously as you stood there. Shaking off your latest trance, you gave Dean a sharp nod before turning to locate your first aid kit.

It wasn’t always like this. Some days were just worse than others. You had gotten so accustomed to seeing your brothers steeped in blood that you had started to see it even when it wasn’t there. Your brothers didn’t know about this. No one did. And you intended to keep it that way. They always looked as though they had the weight of the world on their shoulders and you couldn't bear to stress them out more with your personal problems. You sighed as you wandered into the kitchen. It was empty now. Your brothers had gone to bed hours ago, meaning you could roam around freely without your brothers worrying about why you were up so late. Knowing you’d be awake for a while longer, you decided to brew some coffee. You were pouring yourself a steaming cup of coffee when you heard wings flap behind you.

“Is that for me? Oh sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.” Gabriel speaks in your ear as his arms wrap around you to pull the cup out of your hand. You roll your eyes as you turn to face him. You cross your arms as you stare at the angel who has been your best friend since he’d been ‘brought back to life’. A smug smirk graced his lips as he kept your beverage from you.

“Gabe, that drink does not have nearly enough sugar for it to be for you.” You sass him as you reach out to take your cup back, but he continues to withhold it from you.

“I’ll tell you what, you give me a little sugar right now and you’ll get this drink back.” You cross your arms and groan in annoyance as the mischievous angel taps a finger to his cheek. “Come on hon, one little kiss and I’ll stop buggin’ ya. Besides, I’ve been gone for weeks! Don’t you wanna welcome me home?” It is true that he had been gone for quite a while. He and Cas had been working overtime in heaven trying to keep the lights on. Uncrossing your arms, you sigh in mock defeat as you step closer to give your favorite angel a kiss on the cheek. He lets out a dramatic gasp as you give him a quick peck. You turn your face slightly to hide the blush spreading on your cheeks. If Gabriel notices your sudden bashfulness, he doesn’t say anything.

“You only get a kiss because I did miss you.” You mutter quietly. Gabe gives you a soft, genuine smile. “Now can I have my drink back?” You raise your arms and make little grabby motions with your hands as you wait for Gabe to give your drink back.

“Hell no!” He basically shouts, showing no concern for the other sleeping tenants of the bunker. He swiftly raises his right hand and snaps the coffee out of existence. Your arms fall to your sides as you regard your friend with a look of betrayal. You open your mouth to whine at him before being quickly cut off. “You have any idea what time it is, sugar? You don’t need coffee. You need sleep.”

“You promised you’d give it back.” You said, giving Gabriel your best pout. Maybe your patented Winchester puppy dog eyes would distract the angel from the lateness of the hour.

“Honey.” Gabriel’s voice was suddenly lacking that playful tone from before. “I know you and the rest of the mystery gang are used to burning the midnight oil, but you need to take care of yourself. Are you guys even on a case right now?”

“No.” You muttered quietly. “But!”

“But nothin’ sweetheart. You gotta go to bed. Unless there's something you’re not telling me?” Gabriel had suspected that something had been up with you for a while, but damn if you weren’t a tough cookie to crack. You just huffed out a little sigh before saying goodnight to Gabriel and heading to your room. You were certainly not interested in explaining your lack of sleep to Gabe. You figured that you could probably get away with loading up Netflix on your laptop and staying up a bit longer, but Gabe was right. You desperately needed sleep. Chuck knows you’d been lacking it for the past couple weeks. You resign yourself to your fate as you get ready for bed. Maybe with Gabe in the bunker, the dreams won’t be so bad you think to yourself as your eyes slide closed.

Sam was suddenly woken to the sound of your screams. His bedroom being situated directly across from yours gave him the benefit of being the first one to hear your destress. In less than a second, your brother sprung up from his bed, blankets violently tossed to the side as he rushed toward your room. Once he was in the hall, he shouted once for Dean, but didn’t linger to wait for him. Instead, Sam burst into your room, shotgun in hand. Expecting some sort of intruder, Sam was caught off guard when all he found was you screaming and writhing blindly on your mattress.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted your name as he rushed to your side. Jostling your shoulder in order to wake you, your brother watched in horror as your eyes opened suddenly, falling upon his face. Instead of his presence soothing you as he thought it would, you instead jerked away from his touch and let out a scream of what he could only describe as haunting despair. From your perspective, you weren’t seeing your sweet brother Sammy as you normally would. Instead, you watched as your brother’s face was covered in blood and contorted in anguish. Desperate to get away from this haunting image, you pulled away from his grasp and pinned yourself to the headboard of the bed. As far away from your concerned brother as possible. Vaguely you recognized that he was speaking to you, but you couldn’t pull away from your panic long enough to hear him. All you could do was stare at the blood pouring down his face, repeatedly jerking away from him each time he tried to touch you or otherwise get near you. A few moments later, you were curled into a ball on your bed when the door swung open once more. It was Dean. He stood there staring at you with a worried expression similar to Sam’s, apparently having heard the ruckus you’d made. But you couldn’t focus on that. All you could see was the copious amounts of blood dripping from what appeared to be a stab wound right where his heart was. Just like when Sam approached, you jerked away from Dean when he got near you. You were unable to do anything in this moment other than tremble and sob at the horrific images of your bloodied brothers before you. You truly tried to calm yourself, but nothing seemed to soothe you. And the presence of your brothers were just making your stress worse. You couldn’t get the picture of your blood soaked brothers out of your head. Subconsciously, you desperately cried out to the only being you thought might be able to save you. You didn’t even register the new presence in your room until you felt the bed dip. Your head jerked up, frantically searching for the new intruder when you saw Gabe. He wasn’t covered in blood or half dead. He was just your Gabriel. You let out a little cry of relief when you saw him. Instantly moving to crawl into his lap for comfort.

“Hey hon, what’s going on?” You hear him whisper as he wraps his arms around you. From your spot in his lap, you couldn’t see the confusion and worry on his face as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“I can’t- I can’t make them stop!” Your voice sounds pathetic to you as you speak frantically. Gabe runs his hand through his hair, not entirely sure what to do.

“What’re you talking about? What won’t stop?” His hand falls to your head and he lets his fingers card through your hair as you whimper into his chest.

“The hallucinations! I can’t make them go away.” With your head buried in his chest, you don’t see the grim look Gabriel sends your brothers. Your brothers turn to share a look as if to say ‘Did you know about this?’

“What’re you seeing?” He turns his attention back to you. He kept his voice gentle as he spoke to you, not wanting to spook you more than you already are.

“Sam and Dean. Covered in blood. Oh God make it stop.” The trickster was positive he felt his heart break when you said this. He knew you’d been having some sort of problem that you weren’t sharing with him, but he never imagined it was anything this severe. And according to the shocked looks on your brother’s faces, they hadn’t known either. He sucks in a breath and steadies himself, wanting to be confident for you.

“Look again.” He speaks calmly. And you pull away to look him in the eyes for the first time since he arrived. You let out a little ‘what?’ He’s patient as he speaks to you. “Look at your brothers again. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Hesitantly you do as he says. You turn your head to look at Sam and Dean as they stand helplessly in the corner of your room. Clearly unsure how to help you. To your shock, they looked completely normal. A little ruffled from getting out of bed so suddenly, but they didn’t have a speck of blood on them.

“Ho-how?” You can’t wrap your head around the sudden change.

“A little angel magic. As long as I’m here, you won’t have to worry about those pesky images.” You let out a little sob as you hugged him with renewed vigor. Gabe cuddled into bed with you and when you seemed calm enough, your brothers left the two of you alone. Dean was grumbling a bit about leaving his little sister alone with the trickster but Sam just shoved him out of the room. You were sure that they were going to have a long talk with you tomorrow, but for now they seemed content to just let you relax.

“Gabriel?” He let out a distracted ‘hmm?’ as his fingers continued to comb through your hair.

“Stay with me tonight?” You spoke so quietly that if Gabe hadn’t been an angel, he wasn’t sure he would’ve heard you.

“Anything for you, sweets.” The two of you made your way under the covers. You laid your head on Gabriel’s chest and slowly allowed yourself to succumb to sleep. Knowing that for the first time in months, you would be getting a peaceful sleep.

#spn #spn gabriel #gabriel #gabriel x reader #gabriel imagine #spn gabriel x reader #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #fanfic

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xwesley · 1 year ago

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for a moment, wesley wondered if she was doing it on purpose. did she just happen to be naturally loud? was this punishment for being such a piece of shit all the time? either way, the increased volume wasn't settling well with the french male. ❝you mean to tell me you're not totally buggin' already?❞ if this was her on a regular basis, he didn't want to know what she would be like with a double shot of espresso. grabbing the drink he hadn't even taken a sip from, he hands it to her, then takes his. frankly, he can't remember what he ordered since his mind is too preoccupied with this migraine he has, but a double shot of espresso sounds about right. he removes the sunglasses, rubbing at his eyes and groaning the tiniest bit, barely enough for him to hear it himself. ❝i'm fine. just hungover.❞ now, his green eyes meet hers, raising a neat brow. ❝are you okay?❞ he repeats her question, which, is genuine on his end. perhaps she's just nosy, or maybe she really does want to know if he's okay. technically, he hasn't been okay since he was a literal child, but he appreciates the gesture.

*˖ ⊹ " OOPS ! SORRY ! " lowering her voice to almost a whisper, destiny widened her eyes. both hands came up to smack over her mouth, genuinely concerned that she had somehow upset the man, who was clearly having a bad time. lowering her hands, she spoke again─ though the need to whisper was quickly forgotten over the course of her next sentence. " i was just trying to tell you that i think our drink orders got mixed up ! i totally didn't order a double shot of espresso, and if i drink this then i'll be like, totally BUGGIN' for the rest of the day and you look like you need it more than me. " her jaw dropped. " OHMYGOSH, " she breathed out, " i don't mean it like that ! the heart shaped glasses thing to starbucks is like, tres chic ! but ... you seem to have lost track of what time it is, so ... are you okay ?! " she blurted out the last question before she finally stopped for air, nosy to a fault.

#❝ ♡ 𝒘𝒆𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓 ╱ conversations . ❞#c: destiny

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barbarawilson-moved · 4 years ago

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no rhyme or reason

Babs is a product of her generation, and she’s determined to stick it to the man. Even if that man is dressed in green and bearing intergalactic summons.

written for the prompt: “Barbara Wilson as a lantern (any colour)” from @miggie-webster. {ao3}

“But… why does it rhyme?”

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “A glowing ring fell out of the sky and gave you powers, and you wanna know why the magic words rhymed?”

“It doesn’t make sense!” Babs insists. “Look, there are, like, rules to stuff like this. Trust me, I’ve studied them.”

“Right, and I’m such an idiot that I couldn’t possibly—"

“Hey, let’s everyone chill out a second,” Bruce says like some almighty saint, like he’s not usually one of the ones bickering. “What’s going on?”

“Babs just got drafted into the space peace corps,” Dick says, which. Way to steal her thunder, dude.

“Elaborate,” Bruce says. He’s not asking.

“Love to,” Babs says just as if he were. “Dude in green showed up, totally buggin, told me to chant some magic words, handed over some glowing bling, and peaced out to the next side of the galaxy. Now that you’re caught up—“

“Nope,” Bruce says cheerfully. “Take me back through that one more time.”

Dick helpfully supplies the chant the—soldier?—had instructed her to repeat. “In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil’s might beware my power, green lantern’s light. A little elementary, but otherwise pretty catchy.”

“And, what, you’re some kind of deputized power ranger now? Is that legally binding?” is Bruce’s first question.

“I’m standing right here,” says the guy dressed in green, who is in fact still standing in the cave.

Bruce does a double take—“I genuinely thought that was the cardboard cutout of the Riddler from the Hogan’s Alley,” he’ll confess to them later, over drunken noodles from the thai place that Babs likes and Dick’ll settle for.

“Peaced out to the next side of the galaxy,” Bruce quotes back at Babs.

“Hey, I didn’t ask him to come back.”

“Look, you’re a new initiate to the Lantern Corps,” Green Guy starts to say. “You have to come to Oa with me.”

“Look buddy, here on planet Earth, we’ve got a little thing called stranger danger,” Dick points out.

“What do I look like to you, man, a martian?”

“Questionable fashion statements notwithstanding,” Babs allows.

“Look who’s talking! What kind of sick fucks dress in matching anatomically correct spandex suits and hang out in a cave? Would you just come with me so we can get this over with?”

“What exactly is “this”?” Bruce asks, apparently left unsatisfied by Babs’ pretty great summary.

Green Gollum looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than this particular cave in Gotham. “Bat-lady here has been drafted into the Green Lantern Corps. She needs to report to Oa for basic training and further assignments—I don’t care if she keeps the spandex on, but she’s reporting.”

“As if!” Babs retorts. “I’m not relinquishing my fundamental right to autonomy just because some lame-o rhyme says I have to accessorize.”

“No one should have the power to conscript unconsenting troops,” Bruce muses, which Babs takes as a sign of support.

“You can’t not report,” the soldier tries again. “You said the oath—you’re a Green Lantern. You have to report.”

“I don’t think I do,” she tells him. “Who wrote that oath, anyways?”

“The—the guardians!” he says, in full disbelief.

“Guardians of what?” Dick asks.

“Of the universe!”

“Are they human, too?” Babs asks drily.

“They’re—Oan, I think? What does any of this matter?”

“Well, as far as I can remember, I swore I’d wield power and vanquish evil,” Babs helpfully explains. “Nothing about enlistment. Do the guardians of the universe speak English?”

“Wha—no? I guess not?”

“Ooh, someone didn’t read his Venuti,” Babs mocks.

“Sick burn,” Dick says. “Quick question for the folks at home—“

“Just because it doesn’t sound like a translation doesn’t mean it isn’t one,” Babs explains, for the Dicks at home. “Look, buddy, whoever or whatever did your oath translating must have missed a couple key phrases in all that effort to make the words nice and rhyme-y. I never swore any oath to any space army.”

“Lady, the rings do the translating on an individual basis, they literally cannot be wrong.”

“Okay, well go on ahead and tell your superiors I’m a conscientious objector until you can come back with some linguistic consistency, because that’s a load if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I—” the Lantern starts to protest, and gives in, a broken man. “Okay.”

“Universal translators,” Babs scoffs once he’s disappeared to where-the-hell-ever. “That’s nuts. Can you guys believe the guardians of the universe are relying on machine translation?”

“Did he imply that Martians exist?” Dick says in lieu of response.

“Okay,” Bruce says. “I have many pressing questions about the events that just took place. Most pressing first—Barbara, what is that, and why is it getting brighter?”

“Oh shit,” Babs says when she notes that the lantern-battery-pack-thingy has in fact started glowing.

“I think we’re about to find out how space aliens feel towards conscientious objectors,” Dick says, and then Babs finds herself in fucking space, where at least she no longer has to hear Dick’s dumb running commentary.

#my writing #barbara wilson #dick grayson #bruce wayne #hal jordan #batgirl #green lantern #i havent proofread this at ALL yallre lucky i even looked up the oath #miggie-webster

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solynaceawrites · 4 years ago

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Promise Me Forever [8]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 8/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

"Oh, it's gorgeous!" Kyrie gushes.

Lir smiles at her, still holding the dress up to her shoulders. The wedding gown—something she's had to get used to saying, the disbelief that this is actually happening not quite gone yet—is only halfway done, with sections pinned together, but the sentiment is sweet. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course! It's going to be beautiful on you, I can tell." Putting the bundle in her arms on the foot of the bed, Kyrie crosses the room to run her fingers over the silk of the bodice. "I might have to ask you to make mine, if . . ."

A blush stains her cheeks as she falls silent. "If Nero ever proproses?" Lir prods, gently, and she nods. "I'm certain he will. You two have been together for some time now, haven't you?"

"Unofficially. yes. Officially, only about a year or so. Are you going to add lace?"

Lir carefully carries the gown over to the mannequin and hangs it. All of these things, the fabric, the doll, the sewing equipment, had been sent by her mother, along with a pattern and strict instructions not to deviate from it. Her little rebellion is the red beads she intends to sew into the edges of the veil. "Yes. The skirt and bodice will both have lace."

"Well, how can I help?" Kyrie asks. "I know a bit of sewing, but you can give me directions."

"You can help me pin the bottom hem if that's alright," she replies.

Kyrie agrees, and the two work together to put the straight pins in to fix the rough edge. Once that is completed, Kyrie helps her slide the dress on so she can make adjustments and ensure the bottom is even. Lir stands on a chair, watching Kyrie work in the mirror, trying to keep herself from feeling excited.

At least, not too excited. Her parents had been thrilled with the news, and it was little trouble to arrange for some food and refreshments with the money they sent. The wedding and ceremony were going to take place right in the Devil May Cry, and Lir had spent the better part of two weeks getting the place ready with deep cleaning, some fresh paint, and repairs. Dante had humored her well enough, even going so far to help when she asked, but he did not seem to share her enthusiasm.

Kyrie is just finishing up when there is a knock on the door. "Don't come in!" Kyrie shouts, but Dante already has the door open. She hurries over waving her hands. "Don't look! It's bad luck!"

"It's not like I haven't seen her befo—ow, ow! Okay!" He enters with his eyes closed, rubbing the tip of his nose. From what she'd heard, Lir gathers that Kyrie had accidentally caught him there with the door. "I came to see if you ladies needed anything. Nero an' I are goin' out to grab some of that paint you asked for, Lir, and I was thinkin' we'd get dinner and bring it home, too."

"That would be wonderful!" It's these small moments of thoughtfulness, more than anything else, that fill her with a bittersweet ache. They make her happy, certainly, but with them come the what-ifs that she doesn't want to consider: what if they had met under different circumstances, what if they could love each other like they did in the movies? "Where were you thinking?"

"Mm, no clue. 'S why I came up to ask you two."

Kyrie presses her hands together. "I could really go for a cheeseburger right now, with some fries and extra bacon. What about you, Lir?"

"Uh . . ." She catches sight of the hopeful cast to Dante's features. "It sounds great, actually! I'm famished."

"Okay." Kyrie moves back to her, but Lir spies Dante peeking through his fingers. "The dress looks nice," he says, but skirts out the door when Kyrie yelps at him.

Lir is laughing when she turns back to the dress with an annoyed huff. "I don't know how it is you two ended up together," Kyrie chuckles, "but thank goodness. I don't know anyone else who could put up with him for very long."

She pauses in smoothing a wrinkle from the waist, her heart in her throat and her mouth dry. Nero knows, at least in part, why she's here. Dante had told him it was an arranged marriage, and left it at that. Had Nero not informed Kyrie? Should she? Instead, she clears her throat and asks, "Is he truly that difficult to be around?"

". . . No, not . . . not exactly." Glancing in the mirror reveals Kyrie looking at her hands, clasping them slowly in front of her. "I don't know him that well, if I'm honest. I wasn't conscious for a lot of what happened in Fortuna, and he didn't stick around for very long once it was done. It's only been in the past few months that he's really become more of a fixture in our lives outside of showing Nero the ropes, but . . ."

Her gaze lifts to fix on Lir's through the glass. "He's suffered, I think. So, he shuts people out, and closes himself off. It's easier if he doesn't get attached, because he's the only one like himself, you know? So, he's lonely, but he can't do anything about it. Nero was the same way for a long time. Now that we have the orphanage, he's a bit more settled, but both of them are like . . . dogs that have been abused. They're angry, and hurting, and lash out to drive others off."

"Sounds about right," Lir murmurs.

By the time they are finished with the hemming, the guys are downstairs and calling up for them. Kyrie helps her replace the dress and Lir quickly gets dressed before heading downstairs.

They have set up the food on the table in the sitting area. Nero and Kyrie sit on the floor, so Lir steps over Dante's legs to take a spot on the couch next to him. Nero hands her a takeout container that has her burger and fries inside, and Lir digs in. She still isn't used to all of the fried and greasy goodness, marveling how delicious everything is.

"Can't believe you two are really doing this," Nero says. "A few weeks ago it seemed like you didn't want it at all."

"What can I say? Things change." Lir watches as Dante steadfastly picks the pickles off his burger with a frown, smiling a little at the gesture. "A few weeks ago, I didn't know I had a laundry room, if we're listing them."

Nero rolls his eyes. "There's a difference between that and getting hitched. You okay?" He asks Lir. "He didn't blackmail you or anything, did he?"

Beneath the teasing, there's a genuine concern, and she sets her burger down. "No, nothing like that. We just talked about it, that's all. Although I don't think he could threaten me even if he tried. He's too nice for that."

"Don't tell him that," Dante complains, and she laughs.

"Your family is coming, Lir?" Kyrie asks.

She nods, dabbing her face with a napkin. "My parents and my sisters will be here. And some members from our . . . town."

"That's so nice," she says. "It's too bad you don't have any family nearby, Dante."

"Yeah . . ." He scratches his head, as if nervously, and Lir frowns. "Speaking of which," Dante says, "Nero, you want to do me a solid and be my guy? Thing? For the wedding?"

Nero frowns. "You mean best man? Why me?"

"Who else am I gonna ask? Morrison?" Dante snorts. "You're the only one I've really spent time with outside of work, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. Besides, you'd be doin' me a favor, which means . . ." He grimaces. "I'd owe you one."

Nero laughs a bit evilly, but a quick elbow from Kyrie has him swallowing that down. "Sure, yeah, no problem." Then he glances at Lir. "Do I gotta wear a tux or something?"

Lir laughs and shakes her head. "No, it's casual. Just whatever you're comfortable in."

They continue their meal amiably, and Kyrie and Lir discuss some of the details with the other two chiming in with jokes. Once the food is done and cleaned up, Nero steers Kyrie to the door. "Gotta get home before the sitter costs us an arm and a leg," he says. "Hey Dante, I'll be back on Saturday if you need more help."

"Yup," he says, and they say their goodbyes as the couple leaves.

Dante stands next to her by the door, and she looks up as he looks down. "I should probably get started on the painting," he says.

"Actually," Lir replies before he can walk away, "there's something I've been thinking about. That I think we need to discuss."

He makes a face. "I'm already marrying you, what else could you possibly need?"

She gives him a look and he chuckles at his joke. "Fine, fine. What is it?"

"Come sit," she says, butterflies in her stomach as he heads back to the couch.

Once they're settled on the cushions, Dante in his usual sprawl and her with feet tucked under her, she finds it hard to speak. She's been thinking about this for days, and it feels important, yet now that the opportunity has come up to suggest it, nerves leave her struggling for the right words. Dante tilts his head to study her, his amiable expression shifting to concern. "Hey, what's buggin' you? You've got a funny look on your face."

"Do I?" Lir touches her cheeks, then drops her hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He frowns. "Is it serious? Gotta be honest, you're starting to make me a bit nervous."

Her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt, a habit she's picked up since living here that's more liberating than she'd thought it would be when her mother had drilled it out of her. "I think it is, but maybe it's not. It's just . . . We have to convince everyone I've ever known that you and I are . . . Well, that we've been intimate to some degree. They'll expect it. My mother can be . . . difficult, but I've no doubts that she's told them how perfect we are for each other, if only because she doesn't want to feel like she failed to teach me properly."

"I'm not followin'." His brows furrow as he turns to face her fully. "I thought they didn't want us being, uh, intimate before the ceremony?"

"Not like that," she says quickly, "but I'm supposed to be your wife, right? So, they'll judge us based on that, and if something is amiss, they might . . . call it off and find someone else to set up with you."

"Could they?"

"I don't know, honestly. My older sisters are all married or engaged, and Ilya is too young. But they might, if they felt desperate enough, break one of the engagements. There's not a precedent, though, so I don't . . . I don't know."

Dante rolls his eyes, which makes her blush. "I'm marrying you. What more do these people want?"

She swallows the embarrassment she feels at that statement. She knows that he is doing this to keep the seal in its place, and out of obligation from Sparda's promise. Lir has not let herself think for even a moment that he was doing this because he wanted to, or for her, outside of the oath. He had said he liked having her around, and that was more than she could hope for.

Yet hearing his annoyance stings, so she hurries on, "They will want it authentic, I guess. You have to understand, this is our entire lives. Was, anyway. For hundreds upon hundreds of years, waiting for this union. And they have . . ." Lir can't meet his eyes as she murmurs, "Expectations."

"Expectations," he repeats, flatly.

Her entire face is burning now, but she presses on. "For how we'll act around one another, for how affectionate we'll be, particularly during the kiss and in the hours between the wedding and the ceremony." He says nothing, leaving her fumbling. "I thought we could practice."

"Practice what?"

Lir cannot read his tone, which is why her reply comes out in a whisper. "Kissing one another."

"Uh . . . okay." Lir looks up at him in surprise, and Dante shrugs even as she notices the pink that tinges his neck. "I mean, if you think it will help."

"I just thought if the wedding was our first time kissing, it would be awkward, you know?" she says.

Dante nods vigorously. "Yeah. Yeah I can see that. You want to, uh . . . tell me what you want?"

Lir blinks, debating. She hadn't actually expected him to agree, not completely, so she tries to figure out what to do. She slides towards him, kneeling on the couch, and Dante sits up, his arm draped across the back as he leans towards her.

She places her hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "Like this?" she whispers, and presses her lips to his.

Dante is frozen under her, and she counts to three before pulling away. Her heart is pounding despite the brevity of the kiss, and she licks her lips as she glances between his eyes. "Was that okay?"

"Yeah," he answers, his gaze darting to her mouth. "But why not something more . . ."

"More?"

"Yeah. More."

"I don't understand," she murmurs.

He nods, and then she feels one of his hands at the base of her neck, his fingers sliding through her hair and pulling the tie away so it falls around her face. "You should wear it down," he says, "for the ceremony. It looks nice."

There is something there, in his tone, in his eyes, that she does not recognize, yet it makes her pulse race all the same. "Okay."

Dante smiles faintly, his thumb smoothing over her cheek. "Do you remember what we talked about? Before, when I asked you to marry me for real." Hesitant, she nods, and his other arm curls around her waist, holding her against him. "You make that easy to forget sometimes."

Make what easy to forget, she wants to ask, but she can't, because he tugs her back down, sealing his mouth over hers. The grip on her head and her back make her feel safe, and there's the familiar scent of him in her nose, soap and aftershave and a hint of something spicy, like curry, and her heart is in her throat as he kisses her again, and again. Each one is soft, slow, just his lips meeting hers carefully, and Lir tilts her head to make it more comfortable.

The palm on her back pulls her closer so she is halfway laying on top of him as the hand in her hair begins to stroke the locks. The combination is intoxicating, and Lir sighs into his mouth, her hands clenching against his shirt. Dante pulls on her lips and she sinks against him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders.

He pauses, their lips barely touching. "Is this—?"

"Yeah," Lir quickly says. "Can we try it again?"

He lets out a laugh that is half a groan before guiding her back down, and she presses against him eagerly. She has read about this before, both in the books she was allowed and the ones she and her friends would hide, the ones where sex was both wonderful and terrible, but she's never experienced it, and she drinks the sensations in almost greedily. His lips are softer than they look, somehow, not unlike the silk from which she's making her dress, and she nibbles on one, and then the other, until he huffs and draws her in to kiss her properly.

Dante sinks into the cushions, and Lir follows eagerly. She tilts her face as she slides her hands into his hair, tugging on the strands as he does the same to her. She can feel the hand on her back move to her hip, and Lir adjusts one leg, lifting her knee to press on his hip to allow him to feel her thigh. He gives a sound that sends a flutter straight through her, and as his mouth opens she dips her tongue inside, sucking in a tight breath when it meets his.

But then Dante responds aggressively, rolling his tongue into her mouth, licking slowly. His hand grips the back of her thigh, his fingers digging into the denim, and Lir starts to touch him in turn, running her fingers along his neck and shoulders and down the wide expanse of his chest. It is overwhelming, but in the most thrilling and delicious way, and every time Dante makes a noise in his throat she feels it reverberate to her core.

She grips his shirt, using it as leverage to close the nonexistent space between them. All she wants is be closer to him, to bask in the warmth that's radiating from him like a furnace. "Dante," she whispers, and doesn't recognize the pitch of her own voice.

He growls against her lips. The world rocks, shifts, and she is on her back, his thigh wedged between hers, his mouth hot and insistent against her own, his body caging hers to the cushions.

Lir reaches up and presses her palms to his face, the stubble along his jaw scratching her skin. Their lips slant as they deepen the kiss, but when she hears a rip in the leather, it jolts her awake from the kiss. She pulls away, her head hitting the cushion, and they stare at one another in shock. "Sorry, sorry—" he says, practically scrambling off of her.

"No, it was me," she pleads, quickly sitting up. Her eyes fall to the side, heat flushing her face, and she sees the leather of the couch is ripped. Did he do that?"

She glances back and finds him sitting on the edge, sucking in deep breaths. "You okay?" she asks, biting her lip.

"I should be askin' you that." He looks at her, and she thinks there's a flicker of red within his pupils. But it's gone when she leans closer to see. "You alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"What? No! I . . . I enjoyed that." She smiles at him shyly.

"You did?" Dante seems surprised, so she nods with a chuckle.

"Okay," he says, and then grins. He looks utterly charming, and Lir smiles back. "Okay. But maybe we shouldn't do it like that at the wedding."

Lir laughs and shakes her head. "Probably not at that ceremony, no."

The statement sobers them both completely, and they look at one another before looking away. The air is awkward now; Lir wishes they could go back two minutes to when she was in his arms, or better ten, before she had asked him for a kiss.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir needs to go to bed. It's late after a busy day, and she's showered and in pajamas already, teeth and hair brushed, clothes put away, shoes neatly placed by the bedroom door. Her room has been tidied and downstairs the dishes are finishing their cycle in the dishwasher, the shop and the city falling into quiet as it slows down for the night.

But she sits on her bed and stares at the wall in a daze. Every time Lir begins a task, she ends up drifting away, feeling Dante's lips on hers, his hands on her, sinking into the leather couch as he covered her body with his strong one and rocked against her. Her heart skips a beat, snapping her out of it, and Lir blushes furiously, chastising herself for drifting away in a daydream again. It's been like this all evening, ever since she cleaned up downstairs and went to her room, desperate for some space so she could figure things out.

It seems foolish to get her hopes up after something as mundane as a kiss, yet Dante had, quite literally, taken her breath away, and those emotions that she tries to ignore are all the louder now. What happened to the girl who scoffed at those silly, passionate books and the unrealistic expectations they set? Her eyes drop to her lap, where an unfinished bit of knitting rests. Once completed, it will become a quilt that sits at the foot of their marital bed, and she had chosen a red yarn as similar to the color of his coat as she could find.

Only now the act of making it is less obligation and more desire. She has come to treasure the sight of his smile and the sound of his laugh; will this earn one of those from him?

Or, perhaps, another of those kisses?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she mutters, jumping up to shove the knitting into a drawer. She needs to go to bed, get some sleep, and forget about all this. Her feelings will only complicate things, and with the wedding and ceremony in just a few days' time, there is too much to do for distractions.

But before she can climb into bed, Lir knows she won't sleep. A bit of milk will do the trick, she figures, moving to her door to listen. It's been quiet downstairs, so she figures Dante must have gone to bed while she was in the shower. It's almost midnight, so she quietly slips out her door and heads towards the stairs with a glance at his room.

There's no light underneath the bottom of the door, so she breathes a sigh of relief. But when she turns to the top of the steps, Dante is there, and Lir yelps, nearly jumping out of her skin in surprise. "Sorry!" he laughs. "I thought you were asleep!"

"I wasn't . . . What are you doing?" she asks.

"Finishing up that painting. Wanted it to be done for you to see tomorrow. I was just gonna go shower and get to bed myself . . ." His voice drifts off as he rubs the back of his neck, climbing up the last step. "Sorry for scaring you."

"Scaring me?" she echoes. "Why would you think that?"

"Bout hit the roof," he chuckles. "Can't believe you didn't hear me climbing the steps."

"I guess I'm used to you now," Lir replies.

They stare at each other awkwardly. Her face heats up every time she glances his way, thinking about that stupid kiss. Dante is frowning, and she wonders if it's because he's annoyed, or if he feels as strange as she does. She opens her mouth and begins to say, "I was heading downstairs," just as he says, "Is everything okay?" They both laugh, the tension dissolving a tiny bit, and Lir smiles at him.

"Ladies first," he chuckles.

She gestures to the stairs. "I was just going down for a glass of milk. Would you like one?"

"Bit late for milk, isn't it?"

"It always helps me sleep." Her heart pounds in her chest as she waits for his answer, and that's something else that she has to learn to control: these odd, flaring reactions to his presence, his voice. They'll only make this harder on both of them in the end.

Dante looks her over. "Trouble sleeping?"

Lir swallows. "Yeah. Just can't get comfortable, I think."

He nods. She expects him to say goodnight, but instead he doesn't move out of her way; instead, he leans on the railing. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"Um." Uncertain of how to respond, she only stares at him, and the longer the silence drags the more forced his smile becomes, until it's nearly a grimace. "You could . . . sit with me?"

"Sit, huh?" Dante looks visibly nervous, and Lir curses herself for such a stupid request.

"You don't have to," she says quickly. "I'm really fine."

"No, no, I'll do it, uh . . . Sit, hm?" He glances at his bedroom door. "Let me wash off this paint and I'll come and . . . sit."

He steps around her, and Lir watches him hurry into his room and shut the door. Feeling like an idiot, she goes to the kitchen, keeping all but the light over the stove off as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. She decides to opt for hot chocolate instead of the milk, and in a few minutes she is pouring hot water into the mugs over two packets of cocoa mix.

Dante walks in as she tops them both off with a bit of creamer. "Haven't had this since I was a kid," he laughs as she hands him a mug.

He must have showered, because his hair is damp, and his t-shirt clings to his shoulders a bit. Lir feels a bit weak, not really understanding why, but she only nods as she sits next to him at the kitchen table.

She watches nervously as he takes a sip. He pauses with the mug still pressed to his lips, and his eyes widen a fraction before sliding closed as a hum reverberates from his chest. "Damn," he mumbles, "I hate to say that's better than what Mom used to make, but it's pretty close."

Relief fills her, and Lir relaxes against her chair, taking a careful drink from her own cocoa. The silence that descends between them is amiable, comfortable, broken only by the ticking of the clock over the door; it's the little moments like these, where the world is quiet and it feels like it's only the two of them in it, that make it so much harder to ignore the thoughts that have swirled around her lately. Yet, unlike usual, they don't feel foolish or suffocating. Merely there, and she smiles a bit to herself as she studies him, thinking that marrying him won't be so bad.

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #lirael thorne #lir #dante/lir #dante/oc #dante x oc #dmc oc #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #collab #promise me forever #pmf

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anari3l · 5 years ago

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cupcake pt 5

Pairing: Jesse McCree x Reader

Words: 1261

EDIT 9/2 --- I typed this on my ipad while camping over the weekend and posted it. Now it’s edited and Genji’s name has been replaced after autocorrect killed it.

------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat with your hands in your lap, twiddling your thumbs as Reyes walked into the conference room with a datapad in hand. Jesse sat beside you, casually lounging in the swivel chair. You could hear the spurs on his boots tinkling as he moved his foot back and forth on the carpet.

Why the hell were you nervous? It was a mission. A mission with your best friend. Something you had done so many times before that you couldn’t even count them.

And it was simple enough of a mission you came to find out. Litrally nothing to be nervous about.

Infiltrate a downed communications base and return with the drive that would go on to help with some other mission far beyond your pay level.

Easy peasy. Should be in and out.

“No goofing off,” Reyes added, pointing a finger at Jesse.

Laughing, Jesse kicked into a twirl in the swivel chair once more. “Wouldn’t dream of it, boss.”

Straightening, you watched as Commander Reyes stared Jesse down before sliding the datapad to you. “Drop ship leaves at 0600.”

As Reyes started to leave, you looked down to the datapad, reviewing everything he had told the two of you. Jesse started to leave, but stopped when he realized you weren’t following. “Something wrong, darlin? Seemed straightforward enough.”

Shaking yourself, you looked up to Jesse. “I’m fine,” you shrugged. “Just lost in thought.”

“Hmm,” Jesse nodded, stepping back up to the table. “Let’s go grab a drink. My treat. Since I ditched ya last Friday.”

“You don’t have to buy me a beer to make up for missing a movie night, Jesse,” you started, standing from the chair to face him.

“But I want to.”

You looked up to him. His brown eyes showed how genuine he was being. And you had no reason to doubt Jesse.

Except maybe one. The one that was screaming at you. The one saying “he’s got a girlfriend, you idiot!”.

If he had a girlfriend, this was just drinks between friends. No pressure, you thought. You liked drinking. You like drinking with Jesse.

“Sure thing. Just as long as we don’t get plastered. We’ve got a dropship to catch in the morning.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

***

It was supposed to be easy.

Get in. Get the intel. Get out without anybody noticing you.

That’s what Blackwatch was about. Covert operations.

So how in the hell had you been made?

“You alright over there, darlin’?” Jesse’s voice brought you back to the present as you huddled in the corner of the stairwell, datapad and holo-maps forgotten in your hands.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, pulling yourself straighter and checking your sidearm. “We need to get out of here. They’ll be on us in minutes.”

Jesse nodded, gaze focused on the upper landing of the stairwell before trailing to the floor at his feet. “How many did ya say?”

“Five.”

Jesse nodded. “That all of them?”

“Thermo scans reveal no other presences in the building,” you intoned, relaying the information from your datapad. “Reyes is going to kill us.”

“Nah, he won’t,” Jesse smirked, tucking the stolen security key into his pocket with the USB drive.

“If we die, he will figure out a way to bring us back to kill us.”

“Reyes ain’t gonna be mad, sweetheart,” Jesse smirked.

“And how can you be so damned sure?”

As you finished your question, the footsteps above you had grown louder. The five Talon operatives chasing you had entered the stairwell. Releasing the safety on your firearm, you glared at Jesse, mouthing “Plan?”

Jesse only smirked, sliding along the wall to offer himself a view up the middle of the stairwell. Slowly, gaze not trailing from the darkened landings above, he reloaded his Peacekeeper.

You rolled your eyes as you heard the barrel roll as he finished. Slowly, he straightened his shoulders. “If you say it …” you muttered, but by the time you had finished the thought, Jesse had released five shots in quick succession with a triumphant smirk.

Looking back to your datapad, you smirked. “It’s high noon,” you muttered.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jesse smirked, pushing you towards the door.

***

The safe house was small. A one bedroom apartment over a laundromat in a not so reputable part of town. Furnished with thrift store finds and basic necessities, it would do.

Letting yourselves in, Jesse went straight for the kitchen, setting the pizza box and six-pack on the counter and finding a stack of paper plates in the cabinet. You dropped your gear in the living room, slumping down on the sofa.

Jesse found a movie on TV while you showered, and before long, the two of you were two beers in with no more pizza watching a crappy movie on a crappy couch.

Yet it felt … weird.

This was what you had always done on those Friday nights. Pizza, beer, and movie at your apartment. Laughing about bad acting, debating about the plot, or talking about nonsense. Yet, here you sat, silent.

Jesse glanced over to you as you sat on the other end of the couch, can of beer in your hand. You stared at the aluminum can intently, almost frozen. “Y’all alright?”

“Yeah. Just … tired.” You cringed at your own words, shaking your head. “No, I’m not fine.”

“What’s buggin’ ya?”

You stared up at him. He relaxed further against the sofa, legs sprawled out in front of him. “You … to be honest. Last night was the first time I’ve actually talked to you in weeks.”

“That’s not true,” he laughed. “We talk all the time.”

“Uh huh,” you nodded, turning to face him as you curled your legs under you. “This girl you asked out the other night. How’d the date go?”

Jesse visibly blushed. His cheeks went pink and he coughed into his hand before taking a sip from his beer. “Why, you wanna run a background check on her? Genji already offered.”

“No, I want to know how my best friend’s date went.”

Jesse stared at you. He had hoped you’d forget about his ‘date’. He had hoped he’d figure out how to talk to you about his feelings before now. He hoped you had feelings that matched his.

“It, uh, didn’t work out.”

“What?!”

“She didn’t like …” He motioned to himself. “Said cowboys are overrated.”

“Are you just making that up so you don’t have to tell me?”

“What? No!”

“Jesse.”

He sighed, sitting forward and placing his beer on the coffee table. “There wasn’t a date. I … lied to ya.”

“Well, thanks.” You scoffed playfully, sitting back and sipping your beer. Noticing the change in Jesse’s demeanor, his elbows on his knees, hands folded together, you relaxed. “Jesse, are you okay?”

“There really is a girl,” he said quickly. Almost too quickly. He turned back to you. “A girl I really like. But I didn’t go out with her. Technically. In the date sense. We’ve hung out.” Sighing, he stood, waving off his thought as he carried the empty pizza box into the kitchen.

You watched him, his emotions battling it out in his expression. He seemed to be avoiding looking directly at you.

“I thought telling you I had a date would make it easier … maybe give me some time to think it through.”

“Jesse, I think you’ve lost me.”

Jesse was a simple man. He liked pizza, beer, crappy movies. He loved you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m gonna … take a shower.”

#reader insert #jesse mccree x reader #fanfic #overwatch fanfic

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delicatlueur · 1 year ago

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a blend of joy and worry surges through ace as he takes in luka’s reaction . gratitude washes over him , knowing he can rely on his friend’s support and the assurance the information would remain confidential . genuine friends have been scarce in ace’s life , but luka has consistently and surprisingly been an exception . despite the eagerness that fills him for this new chapter in his life , a hint of uncertainty gnaws at his thoughts about the uncertainties that lie ahead . “ fuckin’ seriously , man . i’m freaking out , i swear . i can’t even wrap my head around it . you gotta pinch me or smack me , for real , i’m buggin’ out … ” eyes remain fixated on the glowing screen of his phone , unable to fully grasp the significance of the call he has just received . astonishment and disbelief takes a hold of him , leaves him momentarily speechless . only when luka tightly grips his arm does he finally regain his composure . as gazes meet , a radiant smile blooms on ace’s lips ⏤ a smile so bright and authentic that it could easily be considered the most heartwarming expression he has ever displayed . “ thanks a bunch . i wanna do somethin’ real special for percy , ya know ? she’s been my rock through all this shit . and you too , man , i ain’t forgetting you . damn , you want in on this special shit too , bro ? how about a bro night out , a dude date ? ”

When Ace leans forward, Luka does, too - it's habitual. If Ace Valmount gets close to him, Luka gets close in return. His eyes run over Ace's face, as if that'll give him any clue about what he's about to learn. "What call-?" he whispers back, as if he's a part of some secret mission that they're discussing in a public space - like Bond and Q at that art museum in Skyfall. When Ace clarifies, a grin stretches across Luka's face, too. "Seriously?" he asked, his hands moving to grip Ace's arms. "Holy shit, man, congratulations...!" Luka exclaims, his eyes bright. "Oh - right, yeah - yeah, of course I will, yeah - gotta break that news to them all special, my mouth's shut," he promises. Luka doesn't know much about sports, but he knows there's at least one soccer team in New York - NYCFC. Maybe two? Something about Red Bull? He's not sure. All he knows is that there's at least one (if not two) opportunities for Ace to stay in the city - Luka would die if he lost him to another city, he thinks. Long-distance friendships just aren't the same.

#it's rly missing the 'no homo' in the end of his last sentence KJDSDFLKSDFKSDLFSDLF #* 𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : colloquy .#* 𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : colloquy ↷ luka kent .

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queen-scribbles · 5 years ago

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The Good Stuff

Prompted by @storyknitter, though not exactly in keeping with the prompt she pointed me toward(which just means I get to do it later :3)

---

One of the biggest downsides to a career like the military or Intelligence was that sometimes your bad days were so spectacularly awful they made the news and were common knowledge before you even got home. Which was why Briyoni detoured past a liquor store on the way back to her place. And why she dropped half paycheck on a bottle of Corellian Whisky. She had a feeling they would need the good stuff tonight.

She left the bottle on the table before heading back to her room to change into something more comfortable--in this case, shorts and a shirt emblazoned with the fading remnants of her favorite gravball team’s logo. Once comfortable, she returned to slouch in a chair and try to focus on the stack of datawork Garza had given her until Jonas showed up.

She didn’t have to wait long. She hadn’t even finished reading the first report when the door slid open. Jonas stepped inside, running one hand through his hair as he tapped the door controls with the other.

Bry dropped her datapad on the table even as she stood. “Hey, Jo.” He looked awful; disheveled, drained, with a beaut of a bruise coloring his right cheekbone.

“That bad, huh?” he tried to joke, flashing a lopsided smile. It didn’t reach his eyes, though, and faded quickly as Bry stepped forward to hug him. He leaned into the hug his arms settling around her shoulders as he rested his unbruised cheek against her temple. “Guess you saw the news, huh?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed his back. “I know this is a dumb question, but how’re you doing?”

Jonas inhaled deeply and hugged her tighter. “Been better,” he admitted, letting out the breath in a rush. “Also been worse.” He hesitated. “I know we had dinner plans, gorgeous-”

“Already canceled the reservations while I was changin’,” Bry cut him off. She reached up to carefully cup his jaw with one hand. “Figured you’d rather spend the evening in.”

A tired but genuine smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” he said, quiet yet emphatic, before kissing her forehead. He didn’t fully disengage from the hug when he started for the couch, pulling her along with him. Bry bit back a smile and grabbed her along with him. Bry bit back a smile and grabbed the whisky as they passed the table.

Rather than just drop onto the couch like she expected with how tired he seemed, Jonas sat slowly, pulling off his boots before he leaned back. It made her wonder how many other bruises he’d picked up in the course of today. Bry sat next to him, resting the whisky bottle on the floor as she settled in close enough to twine an arm around his shoulders and play with the hair at the nape of his neck. They sat in silence for several long moments, but she only felt his exhausted tension ease slightly.

“Full blown gang war’s been inevitable for a while now,” she finally said. “Everyone’s seen it comin’, and that the SIS even tried-”

“Not in the mood to talk about it yet,” Jonas muttered, leaning his head back against the wall.

Bry slid her hand free, tickling the back of his neck as she did. “Sorry, sure.”

“Not something you need to apologize for,” he said. He squeezed her knee affectionately. “Just a topic that needs to wait until at least tomorrow.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed wryly. “You wanna watch a trashy holovid and get pretty damn drunk?”

Jonas snorted. “And people wonder why I love you.”

Bry grinned. “It’s my charm, of course. And my excellent taste in booze.” She picked up the whisky bottle and balanced it on his knee.

He lifted his head up and leaned forward to read the label, wrapping his hand over hers around the neck, then shot her a disbelieving look. “What made you shell out for kriffin’ Corellian Whisky?”

She shrugged. “I had a feelin’ you’d need the good stuff after a day like today.”

“Thanks, but this is a little too good to waste on drowning out a bad day.” He smiled crookedly and squeezed her hand. “This is the kinda thing you save for something special.”

“I dunno,” Bry said breezily, trying to play casual. “My man walked away from a mess most wouldn’t’ve and some almost didn’t, that seems pretty special to me.”

That got an actual laugh(good, her plan was working) and Jonas wrapped his free arm around her shoulders to pull her in close enough for a kiss. “Thanks, gorgeous, but I really do think we should save this for something a little more widely considered a special occasion. What else d’you keep around here?”

“Alright, handsome, if you insist.” She winked and made a show of extricating herself to carry the whisky over to the cabinet where she kept its like. “We do have other options...”

“What’ve you got?” he asked, leaning back again and rubbing at a spot on his chest she would bet serious credits was another bruise.

“Let’s see...” Bry opened the cabinet, slid the Corellian Whisky in, and looked over the other beverages already stored there. “Got the old standbys; rodian ale, juma juice... half a bottle of Old Janx, uh, Deltron spiced wine...” she leaned around the edge of the cabinet to shoot him a sly look. “I have an almost untouched bottle of daranu in here if you you’re interested, Jo.”

Tired as he was, Jonas lifted his head enough to shoot her a dirty look--before actually seeming to consider it. “Y’know what, after a day like this, I could use something that hits like a kick in the face...”

“Haven’t you had your fill of that already?” she raised a brow pointedly at his bruised cheek.

“This?” Jonas gestured at the large purple-blue mark and waved dismissively. “This is from the butt end of a scattergun, not someone’s foot.”

“Oh, yes, that’s worlds better,” Bry said dryly as she took him at his word and poured two glasses of daranu. This would make whatever they wound up watching far more entertaining. “Exactly the mental image I needed.”

“All the more reason to get it out of your head as quickly as as possible,” he countered with a tired smile.

“Touché,” she laughed as she carried both glasses and the bottle back to the couch. “So, whaddya want to watch?” she asked, sinking down next to him and handing over one glass. “Doesn’t have to be a trashy holovid, or even a holovid at all. We can watch a gravball match or somethin’, if you’d rather.”

Jonas took a sip of his drink and shook his head. “Nothing with a chance of cutting to the news. And for once, nothing... action-y. Beyond that... “ he rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “I’m too tired to pick, so, your call.”

Bry smiled sympathetically and rubbed his arm. “We don’t have to watch something, you know,” she pointed out. “We can just sit here in silence and enjoy a good stiff drink.” Not her preferred way to spend the evening, but if it was what he needed, she’d do it.

He shook his head again, taking a longer drink of daranu this time. “Watching something is fine, it’s just your call what.”

She pursed her lips in thought, swirled her drink before taking a sip. “Mm. We could drunkenly trash talk our way through the sappy romance Sayna’s been buggin’ me to watch.”

Jonas let out a soft laugh. “That’s not nice, Bry.”

“Well, then I’m gonna go with rewatching last season’s gravball championship match. We know who won”--she plucked at the front of her shirt with a smirk of lingering triumph--”so we don’t have to pay attention, but it was a good match if we do decide to pay attention.” She took a swig of her drink. “An’ drunkenly commentating gravball is always good.”

He snorted, but there was something forced about his casual tone. “Fine by me.”

“Gravball championship it is,” Bry crowed, and pulled up the recording she’d made of the match. As the familiar opening statistics scrolled across the screen, she settled back in, tucked under Jonas’ arm with her head against his shoulder by sheer habit. Jonas flinched ever so slightly, but settled his arm around her shoulders nevertheless. Their free hands sought each other out by equal habit, fingers intertwining as they rested against Bry’s shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, as the sportscasters ran through the pregame chatter and the referee stated the game, then through the initial back and forth until Bry’s team scored.

“Right there,” she said, motioning toward the screen with her glass. “That right there is when I knew they were gonna win.” She took a large swallow, knocking she didn’t have long before the effects hit her, but savoring the sweet burn for the moment. “B’fore that was all team loyalty and bravado, but I knew right there that they would win.”

“Confidence has never been a weakness for you,” Jonas muttered, sounding distracted.

Bry shot a concerned glance in his direction. She couldn’t help wondering what the source of that distraction was, but she’d said she wouldn’t ask, so she wouldn’t ask. Instead she squeezed his hand and kept watching the game.

They watched mostly in silence, and even the breaks in that were mostly her muttering admiration for clever moves or longshot goals she’d known were coming. Daranu was a strong drink once it kicked in, so they nursed each round, but the bottle was still over halfway empty(less than half full, Bry thought tipsily) when the game entered its third quarter and she felt Jonas finally truly relax. Maybe it was that, maybe it was the booze, maybe she was just turning into one of those worrywart fianceés she always rolled her eyes at in holovids. But she had to ask.

“Hey, Jo,” she began hesitantly, brushing her thumb softly over his knuckles. His hm? of acknowledgement was so faint she first wondered if she’d woken him up and then if she’d imagined it, but she pressed on. “Are... have bad days always been like this?”

“Nah, gorgeous.” He shifted and she faintly felt him kiss the top of her head. “I used to do my drinking alone.” A wry snort. “Occasionally with smuggled goods in a medcenter room.”

It was good to hear an edge of his usual humor creeping back into his voice. Even if the implications of his words made her roll her eyes. “Jonas.”

“Hazard of the job, Bry.” Jonas slipped his hand free of hers and withdrew it enough to run his fingers lazily through her hair. “Even if it’s nowhere near the risk factor of yours, stuff does still happen.”

“I know...” Her words trailed off, distracted by a cheer from the vidscreen. When she looked back over, he was watching her, one side of his mouth tugging up in the faintest hint of a smile. “What?”

“Right there,” he said, nodding toward the replay of the absolutely beautiful goal that had just been scored. “When we watched this live, you got so excited at that score, you almost elbowed me in the face.” His smile widened, the flickering light of the vidscreen casting his features in sharp relief with pale blue light. That was one of the first moments some part of me realized we weren’t just another nothing serious. I almost got elbowed in the face on my own couch, and all I could think was how damn happy you looked your team was winning.”

Bry smirked. “I’ll hafta remember daranu makes you sappy as hell, Balkar.” She leaned in to kiss him.

“Daranu, the long hard day, the good company...” His fingers grazed her cheek. “Take your pick.”

“Or maybe you’re always this sappy and just can’t hide it once there’s enough of the good stuff in ya?” She waggled her eyebrows and nudged the bottle.

“If I say yes, is daranu going to become your new weapon of choice?” He stole a slow, lingering kiss.

“Oh, darling, with you, it already is,” she laughed, reaching over to cup his jaw and curl her fingers around the back of his neck to pull him into an even longer kiss. “Well, one of many,” she corrected herself as she resumed her original position. “Glad I make the hard days a little better in return, at least. You know, for all the teasing about sappiness.”

“It’s more than a little,” Jonas murmured, gratitude and relief oozing from the words. “You’re much better company than I ever expected to have.”

Bry simply hummed in reply, and they returned to silence for the rest of the game, then sat there still after it was finished. But it was comfortable silence, and he’d finally relaxed, so not a bad end to the day, even if it was long and hard enough they both drifted off on the couch, still nestled together.

#queens fic #briyoni nerai #jonas balkar #otp: better company #brykar #swtor #swtor fic

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Eighty-Four: Pretending ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Okay...this shouldn’t be too hard. Just play it cool - not too forward, he might suspect that. But also blunt enough even Naruto can’t mistake it. Once he gets his point across, he’s sure the blond will spread the news like wildfire.

And that’s exactly what Sasuke wants.

Making his way into his first period class - one he just so happens to share with Naruto - he takes his seat and just...waits.

Soon enough, in storms the Uzumaki like a tornado, just like every other morning. “Hey!”

“Hey.”

Sitting in the desk in front of Sasuke, Naruto pauses...and then squints. “...what’s with that look?”

“Look?” Heh, perfect. Of course the blond is familiar enough with his mannerisms to notice.

“Yeah, you’re all…” His nose wrinkles. “...grinny. What’s going on?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about, Naruto.”

“No, really! You’re...smiling. It’s weirding me out, man.”

“What, I’m not allowed to be happy?”

“Well, no! But…” Naruto looks to him skeptically. “...did something happen?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno! Is your brother coming home for a visit?”

“Mm, no.”

“Uh…” A hand itches at his neck. “...didja ace a test?”

“I do that all the time.”

“...true.” Curling a first under his chin, Naruto squints. “...this is buggin’ the heck outta me! What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Then why are you smiling like that?!”

“Maybe I’m just happy. That ever cross your mind?”

“Nah, there’s gotta be a reason. There’s gotta be…” Examining his friend closely, Naruto’s lips purse, eyes nearly closed as he scrutinizes him. “...d’ya get a girlfriend or something?”

At that, the pretending starts. Expression shifting to mild shock for a moment, Sasuke then glances away. “...why would I do that?”

A knowing glint shines in Naruto’s eyes. “Ah! I saw that! You flinched!”

“W-what?”

“YOU FLINCHED!” The blond slaps a knee with a cackle. “You got a girlfriend!”

At the exclamation, several people look over...including a few girls, among them Sakura. Once they words process, she gives a jolt.

Ha...perfect…!

Doing his best to scowl and look...sheepish about it, Sasuke mutters, “Shut up idiot, you want the whole school to hear you?”

“What, and let people miss out on the juicy gossip? Dude, I thought it would never happen! You’ve had a stick up yer ass for so long, I was starting to think you were gay!”

...that earns a genuine deadpan. “No, I just...hadn’t found the right person.”

“Well c’mon, you gotta tell me! Who’s the lucky lady, eh? Tell me, tell me!” Practically bouncing, Naruto’s got stars in his eyes.

“Look...I don’t want you bothering her, okay?”

“Nah, course not! I just wanna know who finally got through that stone heart of yours,” Naruto snickers.

Giving a pensive glance, he pauses for just the right amount of time. “...her name’s Hinata…”

All at once, Naruto’s face goes slack, eyes wide and jaw hanging open comically. “...wait...you mean Hinata? Hinata Hinata?”

“What, you know more than one?”

“Well, no...but…” He seems to hesitate. “I just thought...y’know…”

“What?” Oh, this is too much fun...he never gets to see Naruto squirm like this!

“I thought she...liked…” In barely a murmur, Naruto admits. “...me…”

“...well, maybe she got tired of chasing after your dumb ass. You think she was gonna wait around forever?” Sasuke asks, leaning back in his chair as though taunting.

“...maybe. I dunno, it’s just...weird. But…” After a pause, he gives a gentle smile, which...takes the Uchiha back a bit. “...I’m glad she found someone to make her happy. Cuz...it wasn’t ever gonna be me, y’know?”

The sudden genuine moment leaves Sasuke without a reply. Out of all the reactions he’d imagined...this wasn’t one of them.

“...a-anyway!” Naruto springs back to normal, grinning sheepishly. “Maybe with you outta the running, Sakura will give me a date, huh?”

“Honestly, I hope she will.”

“...really?”

“Yeah. Maybe she’d make you happy,” he offers with a shrug. That, and it might be some sign she’d finally moved on from chasing him…

Naruto blinks, then goes a light shade of pink, itching his neck bashfully. “Heh...maybe! I-I mean, I hope so! It’d be...nice…”

Thankfully, it’s then their first period teacher decides to arrive, cutting through the chatter. So absorbed was he in the rather raw moment with Naruto, Sasuke forgot that everyone else seemed to be whispering.

Probably about Naruto’s outburst. Which is exactly what he wants: the sooner everyone thinks he’s got a girlfriend, hopefully the sooner they all start leaving him alone! And he can enjoy his senior year of high school in relative peace.

The class goes by easily enough, and soon the ‘infected’ people take their leave, each heading to new classrooms...and each bearing the news: Sasuke Uchiha has a girlfriend at last. The school’s most eligible bachelor (eugh he hates thinking that…) is officially off the market!

Of course...not everyone takes it so gracefully. A few girls go so far as to start crying, and he can’t help guilty flinches. Were they really that invested in someone they barely know…?

Come lunch, his first full act is in full swing: time to sit with her and...do whatever it is dating people do.

...what is he supposed to do?

Grabbing a tray of the same old stuff, he startles as she just...appears next to him! Smiling and perky, she asks, “So...where do you want to sit?”

Blinking as his brain plays catch-up - she really is having fun with this, isn’t she? - Sasuke then replies, “Uh...you pick.”

“Okay!” Thankfully it’s a corner table that’s typically rather unoccupied. Rather than next to him, she sits across...after a moment, he realizes it’s so they can face each other.

...good plan.

“So, anything interesting happen in any of your morning classes?” she asks, popping a tater tot into her mouth.

“Uh...not really. Though it’s probably pretty obvious the Naruto plan worked out perfectly.”

“Yeah...it is,” she admits, smiling a bit wearily as several girls behind her shoot dirty looks. That...makes him pause. He hadn’t really considered if she’d get any backlash. He was so concerned about his side of the plan - of finally getting rid of all the people chasing him - it just...didn’t occur to him they might get nasty if they felt jilted enough.

“...you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay...there’s been some, um...awkward moments, but nothing bad,” she assures him.

Something seems to weigh on his chest, and he mutters, “...anyone gives you trouble, you let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

Surprise makes her blink, apparently not expecting that. “...I will. But...I doubt it will come to that.”

“...better not.”

A span of silence blooms.

“...so, what about you?” he then asks.

“Hm?”

“Classes: anything cool happen?”

“Oh...well, someone managed to catch a textbook on fire in chemistry,” she giggles. “Thankfully it didn’t actually trigger the alarms, though...or everyone would have gotten hauled outside!”

He can’t help a snort. “Who the hell did that…?”

“I’m not sure, an underclassman I don’t know. He was so embarrassed, poor thing…”

And so it goes, the pair of them trading useless information about their day, then the previous weekend. Usually smalltalk feels so...forced, but this doesn’t. They just...talk. No awkward pauses or scrambling for a topic.

...he doesn’t really get that very often.

But, soon enough, lunch period is over, and it’s back to the grind of classes. “Well...see you after school, I guess,” Hinata offers.

“Got time to do anything after class?”

“Oh...I’m sorry, I’ve got volleyball practice,” is her reply, expression dropping in disappointment. “But, um...we don’t have any Friday, since we have a game Saturday!”

He mulls that over, hands in his pockets. “...would you rather I go to your game?”

That makes her startle a bit. “You’d...you’d want to go to a game?”

“Sure. Never seen one before, might be fun. Besides, gotta be there to support my girl, right?” Sasuke gives a soft grin.

To his surprise, her cheeks dust pink. “I...I would like that!” A smile then blooms wide across her face. “It starts at two!”

“Sounds good. Maybe we could, like...get dinner after, if you’re not busy?”

“Well, sometimes the team goes out, but...if we don’t, then...sure!” A hand tucks spare hair behind her ear. “...this is kinda funny, huh? It kinda...feels like the real thing. Not like we’re pretending.”

Taken aback, Sasuke glances aside, ears suddenly feeling warm. “...yeah, guess it kinda does.”

“...well, we can talk more about it a-after school - we better go or we’ll be late.”

“Yeah, later.”

Watching her go, Sasuke turns to head to his own fifth period class, feeling the warmth in his face spread. What is wrong with him? This isn’t real! It’s just...pretend! An act!

...right?

.oOo.

Welp, after far too long, here's a sequel to day 146 - more of the fake dating trope! Yay! I've wanted to do more of it for quite a while, but none of the prompts seemed to fit too well, but...well, obviously this one fits perfectly xD Uh ohhh, seems there's a wee spark of genuine feelings here...? And not just from Sasuke, seems like! Whatever will they do? :3c Anyway, I'd like to ramble more but it's VERY late, and I've got a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. So for now, I'ma sign off - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uzumaki naruto #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years ago

Text

Wakanda Got Y’all Pt. 8

[Black Panther x Insecure Mashup]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Word Count: 4.6K

Issa can’t keep her composure if it was handed to her. “Lawrence, I didn’t know you were doing waiter work...food service...I mean I didn’t know you worked here!” Issa stammers, like occupation political correctness is most important right now.

Lawrence adjusts his black bowtie before, tapping his pen in his notepad. “Yeah, it’s kind of a side gig I got going right now until I get Woot Woot off the ground.”

“You’re still trying to make that happen? That’s what made you lose your job in the first place.”

Lawrence scoffs. “”No, the company not believing in something good before everyone else was doing it got me LAID OFF, not fired. But yeah, thanks for reminding me in front of your...date?”

T’Challa noisily slurps his water, bringing the glass down a little too hard on the table to bring Issa’s attention back to him.

Issa shakes her head in embarrassment. “Right, this is T’Challa. I’m working with him at We Got Y’all in an international collab kind of thing.”

Lawrence checks him out suspiciously. “Yeah I think I heard about it online on some gossip site. You’re from Africa, right?”

“Wakanda, yes. Small country that I’m the King of. It’s actually on BBC, CNN, many cable news networks almost everyday since I’ve been here.” T’Challa says matter of factly.

“And T’Challa, this is Lawrence, my...ex.” Issa adds hesitantly.

T’Challa offers a hand. “I’m sorry for your loss, Lawrence.”

Lawrence peers at T’Challa with a slight attitude. “Will I go to jail for doing something else with my hand besides shaking yours?”

“Well I doubt you could lose your job again, so....” Issa snipes.

T’Challa laughs genuinely. “It’s ok Lawrence, I understand. I come to you in good faith.”

“So is this a business meeting or…” Lawrence says, getting nosy.

*Issa’s inner conscience* ‘Nah nigga this is nunya meeting; as in NUNYA BUSINESS! Like how the bank teller bitch you fucked on my futon wasn’t my business. Or maybe like how your unemployed ass left a permanent dent in the couch next to Frank Ocean was none of my business! When you said you were focused on getting bread who knew it came with butter, bitch?! But what is my business is how I got a new nigga who’s rejuvenating my pussy one stroke at a time. Best be leave the royal penis STAYS clean, ya brokeness! I oughta Remember the Time your ass to a pile of dust, which ya dusty ass, Radio Shack ass, ‘may I refill your glass, sir?’ head ass-’

“Well right now we’re just trying to order food, so,” Issa looks intently at her menu. “If you wanna grab someone else to help us, that’s fine.”

“No, this is good. Got a King who’s paying the bill, might as well earn the tip.” Lawrence smile at Issa while nodding towards T’Challa.

“Well, did you jot down what I told you before?” T’Challa asks reviewing the menu once more.

“Yup, the shrimp dinner and the chicken marsala.”

“Good. Have you had experience as a waiter before?” T’Challa hands him the menu.

“Long time ago, but I’m really more into technology.” Lawrence says.

“Oh, so is that what Wot Woot was from? What is it exactly?’ T’Challa asks.

“We don’t have to get into it tonight, especially since I’m hungry and the order isn’t in yet.” Issa reminds them through her teeth.

Lawrence waves her off. “Don’t worry, this’ll be quick. So Woot Woot is an app that’s a social media app that keeps track of your friends locations. So when you’re near one, it goes-”

“Woot Woot?” T’Challa says.

Lawrence snaps excitedly. “That’s it man, or your highness! Sounds cool, right?”

T’Challa rocks back and forth. “It’s a bit out of date, is it not? So many things have location trackers, and to have an app solely based on that, is like having holo-air boards with an incandescent headlight and a bell.”

“A what now?” Issa asks.

Lawrence purses his mouth. “Yeah, it was in development for a couple years and corporate politics kept shelving it so…”

“I do have some family that are into tech. I would help myself but I’ve been busy…” T’Challa takes Issa’s hand for emphasis on the subject in his sentence! “But here’s a card with their info. Give them your pitch and maybe they can help tweak it for you.”

Lawrence takes it, thinking it over. “I...think I’m good, but thanks anyway. I’ll get your bread and drinks.”

As Lawrence walked away Issa spoke under at a whisper. “I’m sorry about that.”

T’Challa smiles sweetly. “It’s ok. I’m not surprised you have broken some hearts along the way. I just hope it doesn’t affect our dining experience.”

Issa sighs. “You don’t know the half. I wasn’t very...good to him. He didn’t try, but neither was I….I don’t wanna get into it.”

“You don’t have to, that’s not what tonight should be about. Whatever the case was, I have only known you as woman who does things with intention. You have a heart for the community that has made me even more excited for the start of the center here than I could’ve been before. And then I just so happen to work with someone who resembles the the core of a vibranium mineral being struck with pick axe.”

“What does that look like?”

“It’s beautiful, creates sparks that twinkle like a falling star….but explosive and volatile.” T’Challa pauses a moment. “Maybe that wasn’t as poetic as I thought it would be.”

Issa laughs. “No, it’s nice. Thank you.”

T’Challa kisses her hand as Issa looks back towards the kitchen area where Lawrence and a couple other waiters juggle orders.

“I’ll be right back.” Issa excuses herself making her way to Lawrence, who barely notices her standing by.

“Hey. How are you?” Issa asks awkwardly.

Lawrence looks at her with an unreadable expression. “We got the introductions out at the table, we good.”

Issa’s chin collapses in her neck. “I know you’re not mad, are you? You moved on, I did too.”

“So if you know we’re good, why are you over here now?: Lawrence chastises.

“Why are you being like this? “

“You come up in here with your new boyfriend, the King of Africa and shit and I’m supposed to just sit back and serve y’all? You know what that feels like?”

“I thought you were good! It’s not like that though.”

“It’s automatically like that. I felt low before but now you puttin me under your foot with this new nigga Issa, I’m not tryna be a witness to that.”

Issa scoffs. “Then don’t! Get your tip and we can part!”

“You think Imma lower myself to taking his tip? First he throws his resources in my face, downing Woot Woot, now I’m supposed to hand him a bill with a smile for 20%, you buggin!”

“Lawrence, this is the reason you aren’t getting nowhere. You think you can do all of this by yourself, but you can’t! You need help but you won’t ask for it! It doesn’t matter if it’s a stranger or who I’m dating, you can’t take criticism.”

“That’s why you went behind my back with ole boy instead of talking to me right?”

“I DID TALK TO YOU! I tried sooo many times, and yeah, I shoulda talked to you then to but we were so past that at that point-”

“And I’m past this Issa. I’m good.” Lawrence says.

T’Challa comes up behind Issa. “Are you ok? It sounded loud over here.”

“Yeah that’s the cooks man, they get noisy with orders and shit. Don’t worry bout it, yours coming out soon.”

“T’Challa, I think I’m ready to go, actually.” Issa says walking away.

Oh ok. Don’t worry bout it. Have a good night!” Lawrence yells after her. T’Challa and Lawrence stare at each other for a beat before Lawrence shrugs and goes back to his tickets for the night.

----

Molly checked her playlist on her phone to pick the perfect category curated for a twockin good time. Pressing play, Molly oohs at the beat dropping on Janet Jackson’s ‘Go Deep’ on her 90s queue. She twirls in her living space as the aroma of buffalo wings snakes around her nostrils tempting her to take another taste test just to make SURE sure that the meat was cooked to perfection. Before she could go for it, her phone rang: picking it up she sees Erik’s name light up. Luckily for her, fucking him on the first date didn’t wind up in a ghosting situation. They’ve been quietly inseparable for a minute now.

“Whatchu doin callin me boy? You know this Girls Night!” Molly asks in an accusatory manner, jokingly on her FaceTime

Erik laughs slow, looking like he just took a break from a smoke session. “I’m just tryna have a night with MY girl, you hear me?”

Molly smiles leaning on her counter. “Whatever man, you better not be interrupting shit. They should be here any minute.”

“That’s cool. I’m just tryna figure out the next time you wantin to hit the mile high club? I can get my hands on a jet that’ll take care of the work so you ain’t gotta wait for me to land and jump my bones like you crazy.”

“That was a one time thing, I do not trust you on any aircraft. Damn near killed me with your tricks!” Molly scolds him while turning off her oven.

“Shiiiit, you got your revenge on me there, in the car…”

Molly leans on the counter. “And it coulda been at your spot too if you wasn’t actin all tired.”

A knock on the door interrupted the list of their future indiscretions.

“I gotta go! I’ll talk to you later old man.”

“Pssh, aight. Big talk, Mol.”

Molly bounces over to the door, pausing before swinging the door open with a squeal.

“Ahh!! Oh! You’re early!” Molly says, excitement slightly diminishing as Tiffany puts a stank face on in her direction.

“Uhh, fix your energy. I lugged four bottles of Moet and some Fiji for me, up your long ass flight of steps, me and my baby will fight you for the blatant disrespect.”

Molly takes the bags out her hands. “I didn’t mean it like that, thanks Tiffany. Have a seat, you’re the first one here.”

Tiffany whips her blonde hair back with a quickness. “First? These heffas pulling a fashionably late move on us?”

Molly shrugs. “You already know what time it is.”

Tiffany goes to the kitchen to pick up a wing. “I do, and it’s past my bedtime! These wings are going to bring me closer to that!” Tiffany smacks loudly on a her morsel of chicken, enjoying the salty, spicy sauce off her fingers.

“There’s napkins in there too ma’am.” Molly calls from the couch, flipping through channels.

“Speaking of things that need to be wiped down, how’s you and Erik doing?” Tiffany asks, waddling over to join her.

Molly laughs a little too loudly. “Whatchu mean? We’re having fun, and it’s….really been fun too.”

Tiffany cocks her head to the side. “I can tell, you’ve loosened up a little bit more since meeting him, putting spring in your step.”

“And he keeps me hopping!” Molly chuckles. “I don’t know what it is, but he brought out a side of me I barely remember having anymore. With work and all these lame niggas, I forget what a real cool one is even like.”

Tiffany licks her fingers. “Well, ‘cool’ doesn’t last a lifetime, like the weather. And he sounds like a seasonal nigga to me.”

Molly rolls her eyes, pouring some wine for herself. “Good thing your opinion doesn’t run my life.”

A knock at the door brings a wave of relief over the both of them as Molly trots to open the door.

Molly brings out a big smile for it to drop just as quickly. “Oh, hey, are you….Issa’s co-worker?”

Nakia smiles politely. “I am, Nakia. Nice to meet you.”

Nakia holds out her hand for Molly to take while she gains her bearings.

“Yeah, of course! Nice to meet you! Wow, you’re gorgeous. Come on in! Not everyone is here just yet.” Molly closes the door behind Nakia. Tiffany waves from the couch.

“How are you! I’m Tiffany Dubois, one of Issa’s friends.”

Nakia offers waves back. “Yes, nice to meet you as well. This is a lovely place you have.”

Tiffany scoffs, twirling her honey blonde hair. “Oh no, this isn’t up to my code of residential requirements. This is Molly’s bachelorette pad.”

“Tiffany, you recommended me this place!” Molly exclaims.

“I brought some sweets I hope you all will like.” Nakia offers a container that was too fancy to be plain tupperware..

Tiffany perks up. “Ooh, where are they from?”

“I made them actually. I had some spare ingredients and a craving so I figured this was the perfect time to whip something up.”

Molly thanks her. “You can put it on the counter in the kitchen. Grab a glass of something to drink while you’re at it.”

“No! Grab a whole bottle! We have plenty!” Tiffany insists.

Nakia does so, setting her tray opposite the hot wings. “So, how long have you and Issa been friends?”

Molly starts. “For a loooong time. Almost half our lives now.”

“I came around later, but I like to think I really elevated the class in us all.” Tiffany adds.

“Bitch, what?” Molly looks over at Tiffany, who doubles down.

“You all were eating 2 for $20 appetizers and $5 hurricane slushies and the Trops Bar for fun. But with me, we have tasteful dinner, sipping wine in art galleries, all kinds of high class activities.”

“You do remember partying at the Dunes with them gang bangers almost setting her place on fire and you got so high off their supply, you and your husband conceived that night, right? Also, I’m a lawyer in this expensive ass loft, don’t tell me I ain’t high class, that’s Kelli and Issa’s trapping asses.”

Just then some raps start banging on the door to the beat of Grinding by Clipse, extra loud making Nakia jump slightly.

Molly gets up. “Speak of the devils.” As she goes to open the door, Kelli is bent over twerking her ass in the air Issa keeps the beat on her door, smiling with her whole teeth.

“Get the hell off my door with this shit y’all, DAMN!” Molly scolds. Issa ends her concert, smacking Kelli’s ass to cut her ass performance short.

Kelli straightens up, walking on through the door. “Ain’t my fault, I stand for my national anthem and that means face down, ass up!”

Issa walks in behind her scanning the room. “Hey Tiffany and oh Nakia, I didn’t know you’d be so on time, I would’ve came earlier.”

“No you wouldn’t’ve. Cuz I asked you to help me cook these damn wings but all I heard was drool and snoring on your side of things.” Molly says, heading to the kitchen.

“You know I take nap before girl’s night cuz alcohol makes me crash fast…” Issa mutters. “Anyway I brought the hot Cheetos and ranch to snack on!”

“How many bags?” Molly asks.

Issa looks around her feet, behind her back, checking her pockets. “One, duh!”

“Is! How the fuck are we supposed to snack on one bag of Cheetos between five bitches?” Molly exclaims.

“Tiffany don’t eat them! Kelli been getting heartburn bad lately, so she don’t fuck with the spice, Nakia? You had these before?”

Nakia studies the bag. “ I haven’t, no.”

“It’s nothing but cayenne and cancer, it would be tragic to ruin that good immune system of yours with this American fuckery.” Molly quips.

“Why are you fighting over it then?” Nakia asks.

“Because they are delicious! I grew up with these, and I’m not dead yet so I’m good!”

Kelli pops her tongue from the Moet bottle tickling her tastebuds. “And bitch, don’t think I can’t still go in on some hot Cheetos. I just gotta pop a calcium tablet, don’t get it twisted.” She turns to Nakia. “So, are you the princess we have heard so much about?”

Nakia smiles humbly. “No, not at all. That would require a marriage to the King, which is not happening.”

Molly walks in with the wings on the coffee table, Issa has plates and napkins.

“And T’Challa is...a king right?” Tiffany asks slowly.

Nakia sips her drink and nods. “Yes, and that ship sailed a long time ago.”

Issa almost choked on a flat hanging out of her mouth. “It got that serious between you two?”

Nakia shrugs, shifting in her seat. “We’ve known each other all of our lives, so when things changed to a romantic relationship, it was always taken seriously. But I have my own life that I want to live that does not fit in the traditional queen setting.”

Kelli stutters. “Oh shit, you….you can do that? Just telling the King no?”

Nakia laughs. “It’s not a dictatorship! I can tell him no when I want to, I can come and go from the country as I please, plus he knows better than to try me on most things anyway.”

“Oh so you got a hold on him good?” Molly asks, her eyes whipping back to Issa for a cosign.

Nakia finishes her drink. “It’s not just me particularly. The women in our country are held in an equal and in most cases higher regard than the man. It hurts me to see these women in other lands I’ve visited being treated unfairly and violently because they are seen as second class. It was an eye opening experience. That’s why I know T’Challa enjoys Issa’s company so much. She is a strong personality, not a people please, and intelligent. Of course very beautiful.”

Molly pushes Issa a little with her shoulder as she tries to hold back a smile. “Oh stop. I don’t even do a lot. Plus my makeup routine been so nonexistent, I need to get back on it.”

“Ok bitch, this ain’t your birthday, so I won’t sit for all this overcomplimentary foolishness.” Tiffany says pouring a small glass of the Moet for herself.

“But at least that means this wine is kicking in, y’all feeling all extra happy and loving. Don’t go kissing each other now.” Kelli snorts as she polishes off a wing.

Issa rolls her eyes. “But Nakia, really thank you for that. I was feeling really insecure about T’Challa and you, that I thought I don’t stand a chance.”

Nakia reaches across to tap Issa on the knee. “You don’t have a chance. You have an open and unadulterated opportunity to get to know a great man. I would never stand in his way, nor would I stand in yours.”

Issa smiles at her genuinely, squeezing her hand and sharing a moment with Nakia. She couldn’t believe how supportive Nakia was being but maybe it helped that T’Challa and her are friends first. And T’Challa showed no inkling of being back and forth between them so maybe she was just being extra paranoid. He even took running into an ex of hers as better than she would. All this made the possibilities with T’Challa that much more difficult for her to imagine.

“Now that we all waited to exhale, let me get some dirt on m’boyfriend M’Baku! My mm-mm good to the last drop! He got any spare hoes running around the States?”

Nakia pauses to think. “No, but I know he’s had a harem of choices back home.”

Kelli gasps, looking horrified.

Tiffany touches her back. “Kelli? You ok?”

Molly joins in. “Yeah? Were you getting serious with him?”

Kelli swallows hard. “So...he’s got a gang of women over in Wakansas?”

“Wakanda, yes.” Nakia says curtly. “But he’s not a bad man either, it’s just his custom.”

“So...I got somebody that is able to maintain that level of sexual prowess. To keep multiple women and new ones on a regular happy with that shaft?” Kelli shouts, clapping her hands as the other women look around in confusion. “Bitch, bring them brownies in. We are celebrating today!”

The ladies share a laugh as Nakia goes to bring her container of delicious looking brownies.

“I hope you like them. They are custom for parties, especially meeting new people.”

She cuts some pieces, and serves them around the group as everyone specifies their preferred pieces: corner, center, edge. They are an instant hit as the girls whoop over the moist and rich density of the baked good. Their laughs bounce off of the walls as they open up to each other more and more about themselves. If anyone were to witness them, they would appear like long life friends with Nakia. After their dessert, the wings went even quicker.

“Damn, you know I wanted to fuck y’all up for bringing nothing but a bag of hot Cheetos to this dinner party with ya cheap asses, but this shit is hitting!” Molly says in a relaxed manner, leaning over her plate to take a healthy bite of her wing, chasing it down with a chip.

Kelli is leaned back with Tiffany drifting off on her shoulder. “That’s cuz...the hot Cheetos are the appetizer to every meal. Think about it. Cheetos. It starts with ‘cheat’. That means, it’s the cheat code to every meal. It unlocks the flavor….of whatever you bout to eat!”

Issa slowly turns from her lean on the arm of the couch. “Kelli that has to be the smartest shit I ever heard you say.”

Kelli nods emphatically in agreeance.

“So, Nakia….first of all, you the MVP for this dessert.” Molly starts. “But you gave the scoop on Issa and Kelli’s flames, what about mine? Wassup with Erik?”

Nakia sits back in thought, clearly the most lucid of the group. “Well, we have not known him as long. He’s long lost family of T’Challa’s, first cousin.”

Issa smacks Molly’s leg a little too hard making her wince. “Damn girl, the fuck was that for!”

“Shit, my bad. But we would like double date or something. Girl, our children would practically be siblings. That shit mad cute!”

“No they would not, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Molly says. “So not much to say other than that?”

Nakia picks up her wine glass. “I didn’t say that. There’s plenty to get into, just a shorter span of time he became acquainted.”

“Tell us!” Kellie bellows to the ceiling out of the blue.

“Him and T’Challa didn’t get along too great when they first met.”

“Oooh, cousins fighting! That’s some Black shit.” Issa says.

“And of course Erik wanted to kill T’Challa, so when he didn’t succeed, T’Challa almost killed Erik but gave him another chance and started trying to rehabilitate him since then. I think it’s going well since Molly seems taken by him.”

Molly stops to stare at Nakia. Issa squints, raising her hand like a child in class. “When you says Erik tried to kill T’Challa, you mean like kill you like fuck you up real bad or kill you like first degree, capital felony offense type shit?”

Nakia purses her mouth. “The latter.”

Molly begins to breathe in and out deeply and frequently.

Kelli’s head pops up, stirring Tiffany awake. “Molly fuckin a murder? Oh shit!”

“He didn’t murder him! He didn’t do it, T’Challa’s alive!”

“Nah bitch, he didn’t SUCCEED. Which means he meant to fully end Issa’s dudes life. Girl, did he choke you when y’all fucked, cuz that could be him testing the waters-”

“Molly, I’m sorry if this upsets you. I thought that this may have been brought up by now.”

“Well, we’ve only been on like a date and a half so it’s still fresh.” Molly says. “But they are good now? Even after all that?”

Nakia nods. “Yes. T’Challa has a kind heart, and respect for the son of his father’s brother, especially with all he has been through. Erik is Wakandan but never group up knowing this side of his family, so he understood Erik’s anger.”

Molly relaxes a little. “I guess, that’s a happy ending. I still gotta talk to him about this, no way I can let this go without his side of it.”

Issa nods. “That’s right, you doin great sweetie. Hear him out.”

Tiffany stretches and yawns. “I told you girl. Seasonal ass nigga.”

Nakia reasons with Molly.. “It would be noble of you to talk to him about it. I’m so surprised you didn’t know. What did he tell you the scars were for?’

“What scars?” Molly asks.

“The scars covering his torso. They represent….maybe I should let him explain it.” Nakia’s voice trails off.

“Are they scars from his fight with T’Challa?” Molly asks.

“Girl, how you not know he got scars on him? Y’all fucked right?” Kelli asks.

“Yeah, but it was quick and we didn’t even get our clothes off for real...Nakia, where are they from?”

Nakia looks down. “I should go. I can’t tell you without giving away his past. He should be the one to tell you.”

Nakia gathers the leftovers of her dessert and issues goodbye with the group. Tiffany and Kelli follow next.

“Hey girl. If you need pointers on a prison pen pal relationship. I won’t say I know about how to sneak shit in for him but…” Kelli makes motions with her head and winks so boldy she might as well have said what she meant.

Molly’s eyes widen impatiently. “I hear you. I won’t need your services tonight so thank you, buh bye!” Molly leads them out the door, leaving her with Issa.

“Hey, how are you?” Issa asks.

Molly puffs out her cheeks. “I don’t know girl. I haven’t dealt with this before!”

Issa nods. “Well I know you have your standards on guys so if he doesn’t fit, just make it a quick cut while you can.”

Molly makes a face. “What do you mean I have standards with guys? Like I’m nitpicking or judgy?

“No! But I mean, if you can’t make it work with a guy that made less money than you or experimented with a guy once years ago, but give your key to a married man, I think you should put your standards under review at least in this case.”

Molly walks away from Issa. She could never take blunt criticism outside of the law firm well, and from her best friend is even worse.

“So I guess I’m that big of a mess huh? Now I let a murder fuck and what, I’m gonna be his next notch in his belt?” Molly hisses with contempt.

Issa sighs exasperatedly. “He hasn’t hurt you now! Just meet him in a well lit, well populated area and ask him upfront what’s good.”

“You sure have all the answers. What about you? T’Challa is a part of this conversation too.”

Issa scratches her neck. “I mean, I wasn’t going too…”

“Huh?”

“I said….I wasn’t going to BUT, maybe I will.”

Molly nods. I think you should. If y’all go the distance, he could run into shit like this on a regular. Assassination attempts, missions that call for him to fight. You really tryna be the right hand of a man in all of that?”

Issa hadn’t thought of that. He is a King after all, and political figures are constantly in need of protection and close watch, but he is so active that’s hard for anyone to keep up with. And America really doesn’t give a shit, so if he died could she handle? Would she be tapped to lead? Would he ask her to live in Wakanda with him?

“Thank Molly, now I’m paranoid. How can I see him with all that on my brain?”

Molly scoffs. “Join the club girl.”

Masterlist

RagTag

@hbicprettyprincess @theunsweetenedtruth

@kimianostalgia @airis-paris14

@afraiddreamingandloving

@chaneajoyyy

@myfavemarvelfanfics

@nys30

@blkintrovert

@allhailnjadaka @cutewylie @bidibidibombaclaat@muse-of-mbaku @wakanda-inspired @klaine15689

#insecure fanfic #black panther fanfic #black panther x insecure #mashup fic #shakafic

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