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ms-macintosh · 4 days

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City of Devils - Episode 1

Dion City, Capital of earth. What a beautiful place to be… everyone says. Its skyscrapers rise above the clouds, and its vast array of buildings are connected by bridges and tunnels so you can go absolutely anywhere. On foot, no less. It's full of tourist traps, restaurants that are extremely expensive, though almost worth the price if you order the right things. almost. It's a city that’s full of visitors, and rarely anyone but the super-corporations stay permanently.

Well, That’s the High end. Dion City is known as the city for Vacations and The Omni-Uber-Rich, sure, but there’s another end, on the ground. The Low end, where the gangs fight over scraps, where the Rich never go to, nor even mention to their precious public. A place where all sorts of unpopular people go for opportunities.

Of course, this side of the city has a name other than just “The Low End.” it got its name for a reason:

The City Of Devils.

That’s my Job, A Devil. We’re the controllers of the city, the powerful ones with means to back it up. I’m just a simple soldier, sure, but I work for the strongest gang to ever live. We regulate the underground rules, and keep order for all of the smaller gangs.

My job as a Devil Gang soldier is not that hard. More of a bodyguard, really. I watch the big bosses, I get paid. One of ours dies, I don’t get paid. Basic economics… except its gang warfare in the middle of the 23rd century.

Tonight, I have a job: I’m escorting Gon Knix, one of our top generals, to a deal with a rival gang. If all goes well, we have a trade that benefits us both with no casualties.

All never goes well. I don’t care how optimistic you can be, the data doesn’t lie. Nine times out of ten? It goes south fast. The other one out of ten? It goes south a little slower.

As such, I need to make sure I come back without looking like swiss cheese. I grab my repair kit, and arm myself with a model 2100 revolver and an AK, shoving it all in my coat for when I go. It's going to be a long night, so I need to charge my batteries now. I set an alarm, and let my mind drift off, thinking about the grapple hook I could buy with a big job’s payout like this one.

* * * * *

I pull myself back into focus 3 minutes before my alarm goes off, so I decide to take a quick decontamination shower. Nice and warm on my cold metal, just how I like it. After that, I grab my coat, check it, put on my hat, and head off to the rendezvous point.

I’m early again, so I take in the view. It's dark here, with green, pink, yellow and blue neon lights everywhere in sight. People walk around like any old city, but everyone walks with purpose. No one here is caught off guard, unless you’re a piece of fresh meat. That’s what a lot of locals would call them, but someone new is a wild card. I especially don’t mess with them.

It's a couple of hours past the few rays of sunlight we get, since the city wall blocks the setting sun. about six o’clock, if I’d venture a guess; restaurants are bustling, and lines flood out of their doors. Not a single restaurant is without a wait.

Even the Indian place, Prasad’s, is full. I must've forgotten it's saturday. I usually go there after work and talk to the owner. They love talking to me, especially when I bring buddies who can actually eat.

Amidst sightseeing, I see Gon Knix pull up in a JAX Hover-limo. Those rich people love spending their money on superfluous things, where a car will do just fine. Seriously, only the rich would even have the idea of wanting a hovering vehicle. Cars on wheels are great! And cheap!

Whatever, whatever. I get my paycheck; As long as I live. I just have to keep my cool, and everything will be fine. Can’t kill your boss and expect your paycheck.

I climb into the floating behemoth of a vehicle, with two human guards sitting next to Gon Knix and me sitting across from him. Figures he’d separate the one robot in the group.

The JAX has a red carpeted interior, bright like in the really old cars. It's a shiny black on the outside, with an imposing angular profile that just screams “Boss.” its lights even have small blackouts to look like angry eyes. If that isn’t a Big and Bad Guy Car, nothing is.

Again, a good old wheeled vehicle does the trick around here either way. No one in the City of Devils is rich enough to go to the high end, so a flying craft isn’t necessary. Of course, then there’s the problem of parking: I usually stick to walking, myself. After all, I live only a few minutes of walk time from our gang’s usual rendezvous point.

Gon Knix has started bellowing. “I want to play this as a clean trade. Today, I can’t take risks, so I want your guns at your sides.” This deal is a pretty big one, from what I could tell. Three Devil Soldiers is a lot for one car, and this is the Gon Knix. he might as well be my Boss. Well, for today, he is. Normally I answer to someone a lot lower.

“This deal needs to go smoothly. No funny business, and no threats,” Gon Knix continued. “Stay behind me, and do not get aggressive unless I give the order.” Good, this night may go smoothly. For once.

Oh, who am I kidding? We’re bringing three soldiers and one of our generals to some trade deal. It's going to get ugly really fast. Might as well check to make sure I’m loaded now.

Looking down at my revolver, it has its energy cell properly placed in its chamber. Six little glowing rectangles show me it's fully cooled, ready to turn six faces into six holes before it has to let off steam. Its sights are off, from a slight chipping. Who knows when that happened. I can easily compensate for it when aiming though.

My AK is looking… like an AK. It has its signature curved magazine, and its dust cover is angled with an attachment rail up top. But really, who uses anything but iron sights on an AK?

* * * * *

Landing at the site, my sense of direction tells me we’re in the back alleys of the Chinatown district. Certainly smells like it too: the rotting white takeout boxes, the noodles, and of course, plenty of people wanting into that one really good thai place that really shouldn’t be in Chinatown due to it being, well, thai and not Chinese, but no one cares because the food is, well, that good. Our limo drops us off by a large alley, more than enough to fit all four of us wide. It’s got an exit on the other side, and plenty of dumpsters and doors for cover. Perfect for what I planned for: an absolute massacre. Whether that’s my group or theirs, I couldn’t say.

Taking Gon Knix’s advice, I pull out my pistol and hold it at my side; my AK still in my coat, with its handle sticking out of its pocket ready to go. The other soldiers do the same; one has an old AR pattern rifle, and another with just a laser hand-cannon. We tread behind Gon Knix, Guns ready but not aiming.

At the other end of the alley comes another Hover-limo, with an insignia of the Lion Gang. They usually like to stir up trouble, but only a few henchmen step out of the doors. If there’s so few henchmen, there’s bound to be a sniper or two. Looking around, I spot them on the rooftop, from a glint in their scope. I can also see that the magazine of the rifle is a little crooked. They’re to my right, pointing at Gon Knix and not any of us soldiers. Let’s see how well that goes for them.

The Leader that steps out of the hover-limo can only be described by one word; Big. This guy is a good eight feet tall, with wide shoulders and an openly half-metal face. Normally, you can get a bit of rubber to cover up whatever cybernetics you can have, but they just lean into the cyborg look, and… kinda rock it. It's a real shame that’s an enemy gang leader, they could easily be one of our generals by looks alone.

My fist clenches on the handle of my pistol, almost sweating and trembling, if it weren’t for the fact that I have no sweat glands; and I remember my situation. This fight is going to be hard, when it comes down to numbers. Seven henchmen and a sniper for our three soldiers. I focus on the numerous tempos of breathing around me, and listen to Gon Knix’s voice for the signal; a change in tone, a specific sentence that hints towards a threat, but there’s nothing.

“Mister Pride, it's been some time,” declares Gon Knix; his voice calm, collected, cool, but loud and commanding the situation. “Do you have what I asked for?”

Pride spoke with a deep voice, a hint of a russian accent. That must be why he’s so tall; probably one of their super-soldier projects. “I do. And you have the money?”

“Of course. No need to fight for it. Standard rules, set it down and slide it over.” Gon Knix responded almost excitedly, by his standards at least.

With a clean, harmless, and cooperative slide of the two briefcases, Gon Knix looked into it to find exactly what he needed, and smiled. Pride looked a bit unhappy though, as he stared at a suitcase full of money. “This is in the wrong currency,” came his voice, bellowing and starting to get angry. “I asked for USD, not Global currency.”

Then, right there, came the signal from Gon Knix. “Well that’s a shame. I guess the deal… is off.”

Immediately, I began to focus. my tremble, my uneasiness, all of my fear faded as I sensed everything.

The clicking of the sniper’s trigger, the Henchmen mumbling and panicking as their ace in their sleeve didn’t work by mere ‘random chance.’ Pride realized what happened, and started yelling at his henchmen in some other language. Judging by the accent earlier, it's likely russian. My own comrades were raising their arms, and in this moment I focused and stood still, slowing time to a near stop… then fired my revolver.

First shot to the sniper, straight to the head through the scope I hope. I didn’t have much time to calculate it precisely. Second to a henchman, then third, fourth, fifth and sixth among the rest. Only two lived, to which I drew my AK in my off hand faster than a human could blink and sprayed down the alley. The muzzle lit up everything, from scrap metal to trash cans to the dumpsters and the eyes of the last henchies standing.

After my mag emptied, the only one left was Pride: his knees wobbling, a single drop of sweat down his face at the sight of me. He tried turning to run, to which a single round to the knee stopped. Props to the guy with the AR, I didn’t have to reload.

“Where’d you learn to aim like that, Kid?” his voice was as shocked as Pride’s was, but not out of fear: out of admiration.

Of course, I responded as casually as I could. “Oh, it's all in the wrist.” it most certainly is not.

“Looks to me like you’re getting paid,” came the reply of the dirty elitist named Gon Knix. Finally, something I can understand.

* * * * *

Gon Knix Called me into his office at a local underground bar. He’s either really impressed, or really disappointed. Given my performance recently, I’m hoping for impressed.

I open the door into his office, and close it politely behind me. I sit down in front of my boss, and he starts talking. The words have to struggle to get through the wall of his ego.

“You did good today, kid.” his voice barely climbs out of his mouth, through all his flab around his face. I walked by three homeless families on my way here. All of them were starving.

These elitists are all the same, inhumane and constantly living like there’s never going to be a problem. The thought makes me sick.

The job today went better than usual, sure, but I’ve reached my limit with this guy. Gon Knix has become demanding, consuming, and if I could, I would just leave. But no, I have to ‘respect him’ because he bought his way to his position.

“Your work hasn’t gone unnoticed. The budget has been worked around a wee bit, and it appears that we can give you a little bonus.” I have to turn up my sensors to understand him now. “The only little cost, however, is that your friends may have… delays in their own checks.”

I know this technique all too well. He’s trying to get me to trust him, side with the rest of the elitists. I won’t stand for it. “With all due respect, sir, if you want to raise my pay, take it out of your own pocket. I joined this gang to defend equality among the commoners, not so you could play favorites.” standing up feels good, doesn’t it? Defending your rights, keeping your comrades up and alive. “Call me back when you’re willing to do that.”

“Listen, scrapheap.” Oh, do I want him dead. “You either take this money, or you don’t get paid this week. I’m trying to help you here.” What a load of scrap. I was hoping to use the money for a new grapple hook, but my loyalties do not lie with money.

“Then I don’t need my pay. Give it to the rest of the Devils in my squad,” Tipping my hat and leaving, I walk home.

It's bright out tonight, with neon colors everywhere. I stand with the crowd, the brim of my hat just above some of the shortest people. Finally arriving at my apartment building on Seventh street, I step inside after getting my serial number scanned. I wish I could just have a passcode, but at the end of the day…

To them, I’m just a bot.

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light-yaers · 3 years

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Fools in the Darkness: Chapter One

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: I caved. I am a wildly stupid individual who has no control over her actions. I know I might come to regret posting this so fast and thus forcing myself into my third ongoing x reader fic, but I also just generally don’t care. I’m still working on No Saints and Sweet Esacpe, just as a slower pace due to my mental health, but this baby here floated out of me like melted butter. I’ll be alternating between uploading this fic and my currently ongoing others! I just had to get this shit out of my system about Shadow and Bone, fr.

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 3.4k

Chapter One

Ketterdam covered up your secrets perfectly. It’d only been a matter of weeks since you’d fled there, after travelling the exhausting journey across East Ravka until the Fold had stood before you; brooding, dangerous, a death-wish just to look at, let alone enter it.

Maybe you had to thank him for one thing, General Kirigan, because without him—

You never would have crossed the Fold on your own.

Maybe Ketterdam was made for a person such as yourself. Dark, danger around every corner, full to the brim with power-hungry men and women trapped behind silks. You’d never warmed to anyone yet, but that wasn’t a surprise—it was easy to hate people in the Barrel, but even easier to take their kruge and send them sailing upon the True Sea without another glance.

Kerch was a merchant port, stuffed with expensive clubs and those with no money troubles, armed and ready to open their pockets if they so wished. There were two sides of the docks—Fifth Harbour; the lavishly bright sector for the rich and wealthy—and the Barrel; a breeding ground for crime, killings and losing all of your kruge in one night.

You’d made acquaintances with the Barrel rats from the very beginning, hearing stories about the destruction they caused. You’d much rather not be on the side of the wealth, but the side of fear.

“I found her wandering the harbour, Kaz,” A petite lady in dark clothes spoke to her boss. She’d dragged you from the bustling harbour, flying you through the dark streets of Ketterdam. You tried to hear her footsteps across the cobblestones, but she left no footprints, like a Wraith in the night.

Kaz approached his desk then, stepping into the small lamp light of his office in the Slat. Kaz Brekker was a man that no one wanted to cross. With his clenched jaw and unforgiving stares, the Bastard of the Barrel was cut-throat in every sense of the description.

“She’s a rat, Inej. Not our responsibility—,”

“Do you see the clothes she’s wearing?” Inej cut over Kaz, stepping towards him abruptly. He stayed in place, looking at his Wraith in the eyes, unwaveringly. He regarded her for a moment, taking all of her in, before turning back to you.

His eyes skimmed you up and down, traversing the darkened and muddied fabrics on your body.

“A Kefta,” He whispered it, his eyes widening. “It doesn’t look like the usual Second Army attire,” He added. You perked up, trying to keep your expression as blunt as possible. After your journey, it wasn’t hard not to show anything—you’d been forced to endure a quiet and agonising journey for a month, while trying to stay in the shadows at the same time.

“Because it’s not,” You spoke up, for the first time since entering Brekker’s office. Kaz turned his attention to your face, stepping forward menacingly. His crow-headed cane slammed the wooden floorboards threateningly, but you weren’t scared—

You’d crossed the fucking Fold on your own. Nothing scared you anymore.

“Who are you?” He questioned, trying to keep his voice steady. Men like Kaz tried not to show off what they felt either, but the curiosity in his tone was undeniable. You cleared your throat.

“How much time have you got?”

Fjerda, 1 Year Ago

It was a risk to take, that was for sure. But choosing whether to go through the Fold or around it was a no brainer. Evidently, it had paid off so far, as you and your sister travelled through the barren coldness of Fjerda, headed for the Ravkan border.

“How much farther?” Your sister chided. She was older than you by a year, but on this mission, you’d taken charge. You shuffled into your pack, pulling out a tattered map and a compass. You set the point to North, calculating the miles you had left to trudge to safety.

Your sister wasn’t Grisha, no—you were. A Squaller; untrained, unenthusiastic about your power and utterly afraid of the Druskelle. But you’d had no choice in getting you and your sister safely around the Fold. There was no other way to go from where you’d first found asylum in Novyi Zem; going through Fjerda was the safest route to the Ravkan army.

You smiled at the map. “Five miles. Then we’ll be in Ravka,” An exhausted but relief filled scoff fell from your lips. You locked eyes with your sister, before the two of you embraced tightly. “We’ll be safe soon,” You whispered in her ear, enjoying the small warmth you got from her bare cheek pressing against your jaw.

“You’ll be safe soon,” She replied, bringing a hand to rest on the back of your neck. She pulled away then, as the tears began to well in her crystalline eyes. “You put yourself in this danger to keep me safe. I’m the older sister—I should be keeping you safe,”

“It was this, or through the Fold,” You spoke, furrowing your brows at her. “I’d rather take on twenty druskelle than step foot in that heaping mound of darkness,” Laughter trickled from both sisters, floating over the snow-covered trees and giving you hope.

You both continued forward tirelessly, mercilessly, trudging through inches of untouched snow and praying to whichever god out there who was listening. You prayed for your sister’s safety, for a safe life for her in the First Army. You prayed that you could stay with her—

A Squaller you were, yes, but over your dead body would you be taken to the Little Palace. You knew that’s where Grisha were trained for the King, you knew it was different. Your abilities didn’t define you; Saints, you barely even used them.

They were unpredictable. And you were scared of hurting those around you without meaning to. Ever since an incident when you were younger, you’d almost been afraid of your own power. You kept it hidden from those who you didn’t know closely.

Those who knew you were Grisha in Novyi Zem called you zowa—blessed, in Zemeni. It also meant Grisha, so you didn’t know if they were simply calling you what you were, or if they were commenting upon how strong your Squaller abilities were.

You’d never even met another Sqauller. You had nothing to compare yourself off of.

With a mile until you hit the Ravkan border, you stopped abruptly. Plumes of smoke rose high above the skies, coming from somewhere further on before you. You stuck your hand out, halting your sister from walking any further.

You were silent, listening for any signs of breakings twigs, compacted snow, or other indications of druskelle being near.

“Saints, you look like a fentomen,” Your sister scoffed beside you.

“Quiet,” You hit back with.

“What is it?” She spoke again, quieter this time, but not by much.

“Quiet,” You hissed.

You both waited another few minutes, silently standing like statues in the garden of the Grand Palace. You let out shaky breaths as you eventually straightened yourself once more, clutching onto your sister’s forearm for dear life.

“It’s okay. We just need to be wary,” You whispered. She nodded in response.

You both set off once more through countless trees and untouched snow. But you didn’t get far—until two druskelle spotted you. Neither of you could speak Fjerdan, and you were a fucking Grisha. This couldn’t have been any worse, when you were so close to being free.

“Hje marden,” One of them spoke. They were both tall, with broad shoulders and the white hair and blue eyes of Fjerda. Neither had beards—they were in training to being full druskelle. The trainees were always worse than their commanders, you thought. They would do anything to prove themselves to their superiors.

You tried not to shake as they circled you and your sister.

“I’m sorry, we don’t speak Fjerdan,” You said honestly. The druskelle immediately changed. Their hands rested upon their guns, ready to fire if need be. You raised your hands to the sky as your expression dropped. “Please! Please, we are just travellers—uh—we are perjenger—,”

“Perjenger? Travellers? To where?” The second druskelle spat.

You glanced at your sister quickly, knowing that if you answered Ravka, you’d both be shot immediately. Ravka was at war with Fjerda—Grisha were at war with Druskelle.

“Kerch,” You said strongly. “We have to go through Ravka and Shu Han. We can’t cross the Fold,”

For a moment, you thought it had worked. The druskelle looked at each other gruffly, muttering some words in Fjerdan. You clutched onto your sister’s arm tightly, not planning on letting her go now until you’d both crossed the border.

“Wait here,” One of the men said, as he began trudging back through the snow. He disappeared in the white landscape, leaving you with one druskelle.

You stayed quiet, feeling the warmth of your sister next to you. You glanced at her then, traversing your gaze over her side profile. Her nose, which was the same as yours; her eyes, brighter and more beautiful than your own, mimicking your mother; her hair, lighter and softer than yours. She was shorter than you, smaller than you, getting a lot of genetics from your mother, while you took from your father greatly. His height, his broad shoulders, his darker hair.

But she was your only family left, your only love and focus and everything.

And you were less than a mile from getting her to safety. You were less than a mile from being free of this Saint forsaken country, full of killers and fascists and men who only cared about power.

It was one druskelle against a Squaller. One against one. You could do that. You could beat him.

That’s what made you push your sister back, falling into the snow slowly as you brought your hands together. The druskelle yelled as he saw your movements, trying to aim his gun at you between your eyes, but it was too late—

In a flash, you summoned a storm that whipped him off of his feet. It circled him, gliding him backwards through the trees as you kept pushing and pushing, ignoring the raging winds as they whipped your hair from your face and agitated the snow on the trees.

“Come on!” You yelled behind you, as your sister scrambled up from the floor to stand beside you. She held your arm sturdily, watching fearfully as the druskelle struggled against the rapid winds that you wielded.

You thought that was it—you could both run with the time you’d bought—but that’s when the entire druskelle camp rocketed through the tree line. They yelled and boomed as they came to aid their brother, pushing back against the furious winds you were trying desperately to wield.

“Drüsje!” The commander yelled, storming through the group as he set up the largest of their guns—a machine gun, aimed and ready fire. You gasped, and for a second the winds wavered—they wavered long enough for the machine gun round to penetrate the small snow snuffed tornado that you’d created—

Until those bullets trickled over the blanketed ground, moving steadily closer and closer—

Until one landed straight through the heart of your sister.

All you remembered was that time slowed, then, as you saw the bullet exit her shoulder blade. She fell to the floor, unclasping her hands from your forearm and collapsing into a shocked heap on the floor. You remembered the way her blood dyed the snow. You remembered the way her eyes stayed open—

And then you remembered screaming.

It was a blur, as you tensed all of your limbs to the point where they yelled beneath your skin. You mustered all of your strength into this one storm; one that was merciless and unforgiving, circling all the druskelle in the clearing around you. You knew that soon all of the air would fade from within the eye of the storm that whipped devilishly around them.

You knew that soon they’d all begin to run out of oxygen and pass out, or better yet—maybe their hearts would stop. Cease to beat, drained of any energy to fire more rounds of bullets or kill Grisha for no fucking reason.

The storm was the largest you’d ever summoned, engulfing the entire druskelle camp and uprooting trees from their homes in the cold, hard Fjerdan ground. You saw them get sucked into your whirlwind, flying high, high, high until they eventually slipped out of the storms’ gusts; then they fell back down to earth, landing aggressively and dangerously on the ground below and being spat out at any random location.

You didn’t stop the storm, not even when you saw a tree fall atop a druskelle, crushing him where he’d stood moments before. The commander was the last one standing, rising above his suffocating men to look at you, face on, menacingly.

“Drüsje like you deserve to lose that which you love,” He boomed, using his remaining energy to cast you to Hell.

You wasted no time when you adjusted your stance, focusing the brunt force of the storm onto him—you decreased the eye of the storm until it flowed over him, and only him, grunting all of your strength into the circling winds that now surrounded him utterly and completely.

You collapsed at the same time that the commander did, falling into inches of snow and crawling exhaustedly to your sister. She was motionless, cold, her lips turning blue by the second as her blood continued to flow on Fjerdan soil. Dead. Gone.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks without any indication of stopping, but you couldn’t sob. It was impossible when you were already holding your breath, too afraid that if you were to breathe, only screams would pour from your coarse lungs.

The clearing was deserted, now, as druskelle bodies laid motionless on the snow-covered ground, their camp up ahead completely destroyed. Broken branches, twigs, tree trunks were dotted around, acting as just another indication of the destruction that you were truly capable of. Saints, you wanted to know if you were a normal Grisha, a normal Squaller, since those old women on Novyi Zem had looked at you like a weapon from the first day you could summon and control hurricanes and tornados at will.

Your fingers found your sister’s forehead then, swiping the hair off of her face. You cupped her cheek, laying your other hand upon her stomach. “Vaarwell,” You whispered shakily. “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—,”

“Who’s there?” A voice spoke up from just beyond the clearing. You got up from the floor immediately, feeling a strange sense of power surrounding you. You waited silently, until First Army soldiers made their way to the clearing. A few stopped and checked the pulses of the druskelle upon the floor, before continuing forward until you were finally spotted.

A young man approached you slowly, holding his gun tightly, draped against his shoulder. “Was this... you?” He asked, looking you in the eye. His gaze dropped to the ground by your feet, seeing the blood-stained snow where your sister lay dead, before he looked back up to you.

He was joined by the rest of his crew. They slowly approached you, almost as if they were trapping you within a circle of their bodies. You stepped back once then, keeping your chin high and proud. The young man at the front was trying everything to keep you calm, you could see it in his eyes, but what he didn’t know was that you were seething—

And nothing would stop that.

Without your sister, you’d be taken to the Little Palace. Without knowing she was safe in the First Army, nothing would get you through the rest of your life—

You were dead. Inside and out. Nothing would change that.

Without a word, you brought your hands together, far too quickly for any of the soldiers to raise their weapons in defence. You ignored their begs and pleads as you circled them within in your storm, slowly suffocating the air out of their lungs and seeing the way their eyes bulged uncomfortably in their skulls.

“General!” The young man shouted, clutching at his throat as he tried desperately to suck air into his lungs. His voice echoed throughout the clearing, travelling through the trees slowly, until an eery type of silence settled into the air around you.

That’s when he arrived—his horse just as black at the Kefta on his frame, the stubble on his chin and the irises of his eyes. He dismounted, ignoring the cries from the soldiers within your raging storm as he began to approach you, step by step by step, crunching through the snow broodingly.

You knew who this man was; General Kirigan of the Second Army.

The Darkling.

He got ever closer, walking around the circular storm. The gap was beginning to bridge, and the more it did, the more you faltered. He took one more step, and you lost it.

“Stop!” You yelled. “Don’t come any closer, Darkling,” He stopped on command, keeping his arms by his sides, but the corners of his mouth upturned into a smile. “You find me amusing?” You spat.

“By the looks of this,” He gestured to the druskelle. “You were trying to get to Ravka. We’re here to help, yet you’re trying to suffocate my men,” You ignored his words, but you found your energy waning slightly—or maybe your heart was finally giving in. It didn’t really want to hurt anyone else, didn’t want to cause more damage than was already on your hands. “You’re a Squaller?” Kirigan asked, and that surprised you.

“Isn’t this how all Squaller’s are?” You asked in reply. Kirigin raised a brow at you.

“Not usually,” He said honestly. “You’ve never met another Grisha before?”

“I know what you’re doing,” You furrowed your brows at him. “You’re trying to distract me, to make me let my guard down and go with you willingly. I’d rather die than work for the King at the Little Palace,” Your breaths were getting more laborious the longer you held on to the storm. You were losing energy rapidly.

“Interesting,” The Darkling muttered.

There were a few moments then, where he was simply staring at you. Regarding you, analysing you, or perhaps— waiting for you to lose all of your energy. You were in a somewhat sticky situation, losing a grasp on your power with every passing second and feeling the intense gaze of Kirigan to your left.

“Let go,” He spoke softly. “I can see you’re tired, you don’t truly want to kill these men,”

“You don’t know anything about me,” You forced your eyelids to stay open as a wave of exhaustion flowed through you.

“And you know me?” He chided. You moved your gaze to him then, as your limbs finally lost momentum. Your hands dropped to your sides, your storm dissipating into the cold air at the Fjerdan border. Soldiers sucked in breaths noisily, gaining back their vision.

You stumbled back once, forcing yourself to stay standing despite the immense urge to pass the fuck out. Kirigan stayed still the entire time, a softness on his jaw that you hadn’t been expecting.

“Everyone knows you,” You mumbled. “I never wanted to meet you, though,”

Your heart jolted then, when the General let out a scoff. You forced yourself to move. Step by step through disturbed snow, until you were back where your sister lay on the floor. You collapsed to your knees unwillingly, as your body threatened to blackout at any moment.

You laid a shaky hand on her collarbone, curling your fingers up to her jaw. Kirigan moved slowly in your peripheral, turning towards you but staying at the distance he’d always been.

“Don’t take me to Os Alta,” You muttered. “Please, don’t take me,” You looked up at the General with pleading eyes.

“Why?” Kirigan whispered with furrowed brows, as if he was trying to work out why on earth you didn’t want a life within the royal Ravkan walls, living in luxury, fighting with other Grisha and honing your power.

Your vision began to blur then, as black spots dotted the white snow that surrounded you.

You never answered the General, your body gave up before you could—

And all you saw was black.

Tag list of those who were interested from my earlier post (tell me if you want off/on the list): @notawritergettingtherethough @rbg1993 @mayallyourbaconburn @luminous-99

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xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Trust You (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

for @propertyofdindjarin - sorry its so late but i hope you enjoy this!!

Characters: Din Djarin x gn!reader (i dont think i used any gendered language in this but let me know if i did and ill change the tag)

Word Count: 8k (this really ran away with me lol)

Warnings: enemies to lovers, description of injury, canon level violence, little steamy (kissing, insinuated smut), threat of death, like one swear word, pre show! Din

Summary: The Mandalorian killed you two years ago, yet here you are alive and well on a different planet. The Mandalorian is called in to help you and your team of royal guards find a missing princess. Things go horribly wrong and you are left to journey home with your worst enemy...

A/N: shout out to the random radio 4 play that gave me the idea for the plot of this and to @propertyofdindjarin for the request for enemies to lovers! i’ve never done this trope before and im not sure if i really did it justice but i enjoyed writing it at least hahah i hope you like it too darling and thanks for requesting!

“The Master is calling in reinforcements from a bounty hunter for this mission,” The general in charge of your squad spoke as the team dressed.

“Who?”

“A Mandalorian,” The general answered.

“We don’t need a Mandalorian,” You spoke up bitterly, looking up as you finally pulled your boots on. The general sighed, used to your defiance and vocal hatred of The Mandalorian. He rolled his eyes at your attitude.

“We need all the help we can get on this,”

“I don’t need a Mandalorian,” You corrected yourself.

“I don’t care about your opinion. My word is final. And besides, there is nothing you can do he is arriving… now,”

A knock at the door turned everyone’s heads. The general nodded and it was opened to reveal the shining armour of the Mandalorian. You scowled as you watched the Mandalorian swan into the room, newly polished armour glinting in the light. You frowned and turned your attention away from him, just the sight of him made you exasperated.

You didn’t understand why The Master would want to bring him in, he was expensive and more importantly an asshole. All the hard work you and your team would put in on this mission would undoubtedly be overshadowed by him. He would be praised no end and paid a handsome fee while you would probably be berated for not meeting his standard and not get any reward for returning the princess.

It was the second attempt to get the Master’s daughter back from her kidnappers. The first time had been a complete failure and caused the gang to go into deeper hiding. It had taken weeks to locate her new location, there was no room for error this time. The princess had to be returned.

The Mandalorian had noticed you the moment he entered the room. He was surprised to see you alive at all, he’d assumed you were dead, having killed you two years prior. But here you were in a brand new system, alive and well. He didn’t say a word on the matter, he’d been paid for your bounty already, it wasn’t his fault you had miraculously survived.

You sat in silence, glaring at the Mandalorian across the room, while the General spoke about the plan for the mission. You grumbled and rolled your eyes when he made suggestions. The nerve of him. Coming here invited and not trusting your plan. The grumble earned you a sharp elbow in the ribs and a hiss to shut up.

With the plan set, you began the long trip out to the location. It was far, a days trip by speeder at least. Across plains, over mountains, through valleys and finally to the destination. A small building atop a large hill. It was strangely open, considering how long it had taken to find. The sun was going down by the time you arrived. You were apprehensive to approach so quickly, wanting to wait out but you had no power amongst this group, especially with the Mandalorian validating the plan there was no way you’d win. The group dismounted the speeders mere feet from the entrance, loaded their guns and went inside, barely stopping for a second once their feet touched the ground.

You however did not follow. Ordered to stay outside, they didn’t trust you. You were to keep watch, not that there was anything to watch for. Two years on the planet and you were still considered an outsider. Your reputation had not preceded you but it quickly caught up. Within two weeks of your arrival, whispers of your real name had floated across the galaxy until it landed into the mouth of the Master. You were allowed to stay, only if you joined the royal guard to put your skills to use.

The royal guard didn’t trust you, used you as a scapegoat on any occasion and sent you in many suicide missions purely because you were expendable. But as even the Mandalorian knew, you were very hard to kill. You came back every single time with nothing more than a scratch. Instead of your action gaining their trust it bred jealousy and mistrust.

You scuffed around the site, listening out for signs that the mission was complete or anyone was in trouble. The moon rose slowly into the sky, stars appeared with it giving you some entertainment as you tried to spot the constellations familiar to you. A twinge of anxiety cut your stomach, they should have been out long ago. You should have followed to help

Suddenly, a bone-breaking thunderous sound erupted from below and the ground began to shake. You were frozen to the spot until your spot began to fall away. The ground beneath you shook and collapsed inwards. You scrambled out the way, moving to where the ground was stable again. The building your squad had gone inside had collapsed, screams and cries of terror could be heard from inside. The building fell, then fell further. All you could do was watch in horror as where the building once stood, a crater appeared. Dust plumed from the wreck, filling your lungs and scratching your eyes. You coughed and spluttered, shielding your face from it.

Soon the dust settled and things became clearer. The devastation was all that was left. And the Mandalorian. Stood alone on the opposite side of the great crater, he looked down into the hole for a moment, thinking, before making his way around to where you were. He didn’t stop to talk to you as he passed, simply readjusting his vambrace and walking away. Disturbed by his lack of reaction it took you a moment to react, you watched him walk a few paces ahead before running after him.

“Hey!” You called after him, “Where are you going?”

“There’s no speeders. We’ll have to walk,” He said, not stopping.

“They’ll kill us if we return without the princess!” You protested.

“They’ll kill you when you don’t return with the girl,” Mando corrected you, “Unless you want to walk climb in there and search through rubble, the only thing to do is walk back,”

“It’ll take days! There’s no way you’d make it back to the city in one piece,”

“Who said I was going back there?”

“You have to finish the job,”

“The job is finished,”

“You arrogant son of a bitch,” You scoffed as he continued to walk away. He picked up his pace, “I told Illana that we didn’t need you,” You shouted angrily. Din didn’t reply, trying to block out your whinging. “You’re a waste of money, everyone knows Mandalorians don't work well in teams. There’s a reason you all got wiped out,” You snarled. That comment bristled Din. He knew you were only baiting for a fight, angry your squad had died and he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted. It wasn’t advantageous for anyone, “What happened in there? You blow it up to make the job easier? You killed them all,”

Din ignored your questioning. He hadn’t killed them, he had barely made it out alive

“She was just a child and you killed her, for what? Tell me!”

He turned when he heard the load up of a blaster behind him. Your blaster, loaded and waiting in your hand was pointed at his back while he walked ahead. He whipped around just as fast, his blaster pointed at you too.

“Really?” He asked.

“Talk,”

“It was a trap,”

“Liar!” You shouted.

“The girl was tied to some kind of trap that blew up the mines below the building. I was not in the room when the extraction happened. I didn’t do anything,” He explained, you didn’t reply, grinding your teeth as you tried to get your head around it. “Why would I kill them? I needed her alive,”

You hated that he was making sense. There was no real logical reason for him to kill the princess. He needed her alive to get his payment just as you did. You glared at him, fingers twitching over your blaster.

“Keep walking,” You said sternly. You turned the safety back on to the blaster though never lowering it. Din lowered his weapon. “I’m not having you anywhere out of my sight. Can’t trust you as far as I could throw you,”

Din huffed in agreement and turned to continue walking. Your blaster wasn’t going to do anything more than scuff his armour, he didn’t worry about you attacking him from behind. If you’d wanted to kill him you would have tried by now. Whatever made this whole ordeal go faster was what he was going to do.

You walked across the grassy plain for hours in total silence. At least outwardly silent. In your mind, you were cursing his name in every language you knew to any deity you could think of. Cursing him, his stupid armour and his stupid helmet. You cursed the planet, you cursed the city, you cursed the entire universe for forcing you to be stuck with the one man you hated most. You wished you had followed the squad and died with them, it would be more pleasant than this. At least with the pace the Mandalorian kept, you were going to be back to the city in record time, this nightmare could end.

Soon the grass gave way to shrubs and weeds, trees that were rare before now crowded around you. You came to a path, well-trodden and open, surprisingly. If it was this clear it was only a good thing, you were on the right path back.

“Stop,” You ordered as the path forked out in two directions. Din had chosen one path already, a few paces ahead. He stopped and turned around to see what the problem was. You were facing the second path, motioning with your blaster to cross over. “There’s a shortcut,” You said, “That forest opens back up in the West of the city. If memory serves me correctly it’ll cut our journey in half,”

“I don’t trust you,” Din said warily.

“Never said you had to trust me. If you carry on that way it’ll take another three days to walk around a huge lake and a ravine. This way cuts that out and we’ll be back in the city in two days,”

You walked forward into the break of trees, turning back when you didn’t hear him follow. He hadn’t moved, still calculating the decision. “Not scared are you, Mando?” You taunted him. “We don’t have much sunlight. Move,”

For a moment Din contemplated shooting you right there. You were rude and arrogant, nobody would question your death at all if he did it. His hand hovered over his blaster, before finally deciding against it. He needed the payment and with you alive at the end of it he would have proof he didn’t slaughter the entire garrison.

He followed you into the forest, walking in front of you as before. The trees were so dense, a few minutes of walking cut out all light. Spotlights of dusty yellow light broke through the canopy providing enough light inside to see your footing directly in front of you but nothing more. Roots covered the floor, winding around your ankles trying to pull you in so your body could supply nutrients for the plants. Branches caught on the Mandalorian’s shoulders, snapping back into your face often when they released. You learnt quickly to keep a few more paces back to stop the attacks.

You had heard stories about these forests. Fables told to the children in the city warning them of the dangers of the expansive green land. Most of them you knew to be just stories, but like most legends in the universe, there was truth to some. That knowledge kept you alert as you continued the walk.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian stopped in his tracks. You nearly crashed into him, not looking where you were going you were met with metal.

“Keep walking,” You ordered. He didn’t move, turning his head to look up at the canopy. You frowned, growing impatient. “What?”

“Quiet,” He hissed. You paused as you heard another shuffle you had thought to be Din moving. It was above you, beside you and behind you. Then you heard it, a shrill echoing cry from above. A cry you had been told to fear since day one on this planet.

They descended from every side. Five or six strong and lean warriors armed with metal spears and knives swarmed you and Din before you even had time to run.

A flurry of metal and blaster bolts occurred. You were quick on the draw taking two warriors quickly before another knocked your gun from your hands. It was immediately lost to the undergrowth. Dodging one strike then another you grabbed hold of one of the warrior's weapons, forcing it back on them to push them back. Pull, push, slash. A splash of blood as the spear cut into his skin and another dead.

You had one left. Flipping a small knife in his hand, the warrior snarled at you before pouncing. Taking out your own, you threw yourself at the warrior. Each attempted strike on your part was blocked effortlessly. Your advance became a backwards pace as you were slowly overpowered. The knife scraped against your vambrace as you blocked yet another strike creating sparks.

The warrior growled something in a language you didn’t understand as you stepped backwards again, finding yourself cornered to a tree. You growled and surged forward again, catching a slice to his cheek and shoulder before being pinned to the bark.

You cried out as a sharp bite pierced your skin, the warrior slipping past your armour and plunging their blade into your side as your hands came up and used your knife to slice their throat. A spray of blood hit your face as they fell to the ground. You fell backwards leaning against the tree for support as your head went light, you watched Din take out the remaining warriors. One on their spear, another with his blaster. He was surrounded by bodies but looked like he’d barely broken a sweat. He surveyed his area before finally noticing you. The ambush had happened so fast he barely had time to spare a glance in your direction to see how you were.

You grimaced as he walked over. He didn’t come close, not helping you, just watching. He saw the leather strapped blade on the ground beside you and the body next to you. You hissed as you tried to push yourself up, even minimal effort was aggravating the wound.

Your hand let go of the injury, revealing the blood to Din. You wiped it on your pant leg, laughing dryly as you looked up at him. You could barely see him, eyes hazy, even speaking was an effort as your throat was stinging with the threat of vomit. Din lurched forward holding out his hand. “I don’t need your help,” You garbled, trying again. This time you were successful, only for a moment as your world spinning and went black for a moment., “Stars above,” you gasped, falling forward into the Mandalorian. He caught you quickly before you fell to the floor.

“Where are you hurt?” He asked urgently.

“Under there,” You slurred, waving your arm weakly at your side. Your eyes were dropping, skin pale. It was the end, killed by a forest warrior’s blade with the Mandalorian by your side. Not how you wanted to go.

You came too in the dark. You startled, immediately on guard. The sudden movement made you cry out as pain overtook your body.

“Don’t move,” Came a gruff reply. It was the Mandalorian. Ignoring his request, you slowly pushed yourself to sit up, wincing at the pain but you couldn’t just lay there.

You then realised your armour was gone, top feeling practically bare in your undershirt. A bandage was wrapped around your ribs, soaked in blood. He had saved you.

You looked at him across the fire, confused. You had expected him to leave you for dead. You certainly should have died. Either the gods were playing a horrific joke on you by drawing out this quest with your supposed enemy or he had cared for you. You wondered how long you’d been out for. Could have been a few hours, a few days. You doubted he would care for you for that long but evidently, the bounty hunter was full of surprises.

“You should have left me,” you finally spoke. Your voice was coarse and you coughed to clear your throat. “Why’d you do that?”

He shrugged. You frowned but decided not to press the matter. You preferred living over being dead.

“How long was I out?” You asked.

“A few hours,” He replied, “Nice to have you quiet for so long,”

“Where’s my armour?”

“Here,” He said, patting the pile of metal next to him. You watched him carefully now. You needed that back if you were going to make it and didn’t entirely trust he would give it back. Parts were beskar. You knew he would try and stake a claim to it despite the fact he knew where you’d gotten it from. He’d tried it before and that had ended with you at the bottom of a rocky gorge, “I’ll give it back in the morning. You need to rest and you can’t in that,”

“It’s very important to me,” You stated.

“I know,” He said.

“How do I know you won’t take it?”

“You’ll have to trust me,” Din said. You were not about to do that. You pushed yourself to stand up, grinding your teeth to not let out the sharp pain that was splitting through your side, “Sit down,” Din ordered.

“Give me-,” As you stood up your vision went blurry, you stumbled forward into the fire pit. Luckily the Mandalorian had quick reflexes and caught you before you fell into the flames

“I didn’t save your life for you to fall into a fire,” he scolded you, helping you back to the ground. Sit,”

You shoved his hands off you and shuffled away from him. “I’ll kill you if you take it,” you grumbled.

“You would try,” Din agreed. Both of you knew you would not be a threat. While the Mandalorian had managed to flush out most of the poison some of it remained in your system. Not deadly in dosage but enough to weaken you significantly. You wouldn’t be able to get real help until you returned to the city.

Silence fell over the camp again. You stared into the fire, watching it spit and spark. A physical manifestation of your rage and embarrassment. Not only were you weak and wounded, but you were also stuck with the one person you swore would get revenge on if you ever crossed paths again. Now the only revenge you could manage was maybe to scratch his armour. You had slaughtered people, entire towns had met their end through your hands. Now your life lay in the Mandalorians’s. You hated it.

You glared at him for what felt like hours. Neither of you was going to give in to sleep, too suspicious of the other to succumb to the vulnerability. The three moons travelled slowly overhead, animals scratching around the clearing of the forest none would dare to venture into the foreign light of the Mandalorian’s fire but you could feel a thousand eyes in the darkness watching you intently.

Suddenly he stood up. Suspicious you watched him walk the short distance to you. Without warning, he passed a silver packet of food to you and walked behind you. You looked dumbly at the packet and turned your head to see what he was doing. You had barely looked over your shoulder before his gloved hand came to the side of your face, pushing you away.

“Turn around and I’ll kill you,” Din warned you.

“Ok! Kriff, calm down I don’t want to look anyway,” You scoffed at him. Somehow, his insistence that you didn’t see his face only made the idea more enticing. You heard a scuff of metal and the sound of something heavy on the grass, his helmet was off.

You kept your head straight forward, moving only to look at what you were eating. It was very similar to eating next to a wild animal, any movement you made while he ate could be your last. You knew enough about Mandalorians to know it wasn’t him being territorial but to do with his ‘creed’. They could never remove their helmets, never show their faces to anyone except family. It didn’t seem like the Mandalorian behind you had any family, there was barely a caring bone in his body. Except he had saved your life, though that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else you thought.

Din wouldn’t usually risk eating like this with someone like you nearby. There was no privacy, no guarantee you wouldn’t turn and catch him but his hunger was overtaking his logic. It had been days since he’d eaten, he was the lowest on credits in his life the small amount he’d earn from this bounty was desperately needed. If he was going to be paid at all now.

He ate quickly, wolfing down the scraps he had found in your pack. It was bland and chalky but it was food, nutrients, and that was all that mattered. He had to survive until the next. Once he finished, he picked up his helmet and placed it back on his head. Safe inside his metal shell he stood up and walked to his previous spot on the other side of the fire.

He watched you while you ate. He took in the way your skin glowed in the firelight. Wisps of unruly hair caught the light giving you a halo over your head except there was nothing angelic about you. You knew murder and destruction just as well as he did. You’d killed many and cursed more to the haunting image of your destruction. You were one of a small few in the galaxy who had survived the Mandalorian.

There was something oddly satisfying at the fact you couldn’t get away now. You couldn’t do anything if he tried to kill you again now. All your power, all your strength, was in his hands. It was a dark feeling he wanted to avoid, he didn’t think about it too much. If he’d wanted to kill you he would have left you to die.

Once you finished your food you threw the packaging into the fire and settled back. You watched the Mandalorian pick through your pack, pulling out whatever he could find useful for the rest of the travel. You knew we wouldn't find much, the thing had only been packed for a two-day trip maximum. You ached from head to toe, tired and more hungry than the nutrients bar could stave off you longed for your bed. Soft and warm it was the only good thing in this place, the only thing that had kept you here for so long. Comfort was never something you had been given freely, you were going to hold onto this one for as long as you could.

Soon you couldn’t fight sleep any longer. You lay down next to the fire, watching the Mandalorian until you could no longer keep your eyes open.

—

The next day something had shifted in your dynamic. The fact he’d saved your life had changed things. You weren’t so angry at him. He was careful with you, helping you up from the ground and you didn’t miss the way his helmet stayed on you for longer than needed as you pulled your armour back on. He’d cleaned it too, wiping off the blood and dirt from the metal.

You walked mostly in silence, Din still in front of you. You may not hate him anymore but you didn’t entirely trust him yet. He was on neutral ground as far as you were concerned. He'd tried to kill you once, he’d saved you once, They cancelled each other out and now all was left as to gain any opinion either way about who this man was. Was he a killer or was he kind? His actions thus far, surprisingly, offered the latter. Despite that, your hand never left your blaster, though not drawn it was ready in its holster if he decided to turn on you.

Every time you hissed or groaned as you walked, he would stop, look at you and check you were okay before continuing. If it wasn’t for the cold nature of his helmet it would have been endearing.

You travelled together through forest and fields, over a small mountain and down a ravine. Your legs ached, back sore from carrying your pack but at least your stab wound had gone numb. Your pain receptors were so fried now your brain was trying to forget it all together so you could survive.

You flagged behind Mando, gritting your teeth and forcing yourself forward until you couldn’t take it anymore. You let out a small cry of defeat before calling for the Mandalorian to stop. You sat on a rock above a reed bed, leaning on it with one arm while the other pried your armour from your body. Din stopped walking as soon as he heard you.

“I need to rest for a bit,” You admitted, struggling with your straps. One-handed it was impossible to get them off but if you didn’t you couldn’t breathe. You pulled and tugged at the buckles until you were stopped by the Mandalorian’s gloved hand on yours.

“I’ll do it,” He said quietly. You moved your hand, turning a little to let him have better access to the buckles holding the metal to your body.

You didn’t say a word, knowing you couldn’t do it by yourself. His skilled fingers worked the buckles open and pulled the chest pieces away from your body. There was care in his touch, his fingers momentarily gracing over your exposed skin for a moment. The light touch sent shivers down your spine. You turned your head for fear of showing just how affected you were by his touch. You sighed in relief when the weight was gone and the strain on your muscles was decreased.

“Thank you,” You mumbled.

“We can set up camp here for the night,”

“It’s not even dark,” You protested, “Give me a few minutes we can keep walking. It’s not safe out in the open like this,”

“You’re in pain,”

“I’ll be in pain wherever we are,” You said, “There are caves just over there, it will be safer to stay there,”

“That’ll be two hours walk,”

“I can do it,”

“I’m tired too. We’re staying here,” He said, “You can bathe in the river, clean the wound again,”

“Mando-,” You protested.

He wasn’t listening anymore. He’d set down the weapons on his back and set to creating a fire. If it was going to be as cold as last night you were going to need one.

You were silently relieved. Your entire body was screaming for a break, the wound throbbing so much you could have thrown up. You needed to rest. You knew you weren’t far from the city now, it was on the other side of the pass, you could see ships land and take off in the distance, specks leaving white trails in the sky. You would be back by the next evening, you predicted. Only one day left free of consequences.

As the decision had been made to stay by the river for the night, you decided you could get out of your armour again. You sat up slowly, leaning to one side to avoid putting pressure on the wound on your side. You piled the pieces up next to the rock.

Din was still busy searching for suitable wood, a good distance away from you you decided it was safe to strip off and explore the water you could hear behind the reed bed. You pulled aside the plants, creating a path for yourself and revealing a beautiful stream. The water was crystal clear, reflecting the sunset colours above you.

You waded into the water, holding up your tunic so it didn’t get wet. The current wasn’t strong, stones were stable under your feet and you let yourself walk further into the river until it got to your hips. Creatures in the water scattered as your legs invaded their home. You pulled your tunic over your head, throwing the fabric back onto the riverbank, then untied the Mandalorians bandages leaving them with the tunic too. The cool water soothed your aching muscles, washing away the sweat and dry blood as it passed over your skin. You groaned at the heavenly feeling before dipping down under the surface, letting the world melt away in the stream.

Din returned to find you missing. He dropped the sticks he’d found and looked around for you. He hadn’t heard a struggle, he’d have seen someone if you’d been taken. He spotted your armour in a pile while you’d been lay, too neat to be stripped of you in a hurry you must have taken it off. None of his weapons missing either. Then he heard your voice from behind the tall reeds surrounding the lazy river, a pained groan. He was quick to action fearing you’d fallen and been hurt again. He barrelled through the reeds, nearly falling down the riverbank into the water until he saw you. Entirely naked, facing away from him, standing waist-deep in the cool water. Every scar, every bruise, every lump and bump was on view under the golden sun instantly transfixing Din.

He didn’t want to stare but he couldn’t bring his eyes away from the view. Drenched in golden light, your wet skin sparkled. His eyes fell slowly down your body, his own body was fighting between leaving you alone and joining you in the water. Your shadow cast on the opposite bank of reeds showed a broken image of everything you had hidden.

“Can you pass me my clothes when you’re done staring please Mando?” You spoke up suddenly, looking over your shoulder with a smirk on your lips. Din startled, snapping himself out of the trance he’d fallen into, nearly falling in the water. He coughed and spluttered, the sound coming out strangely through his vocoder, which made you laugh. He nodded, muttering something you couldn’t hear before disappearing back through the reeds to retrieve your clothes.

You were used to washing with no privacy. Being in the places you’d been, privacy was a luxury. You could ignore the lustful stares men gave but something about Din watching you set you on edge, it excited you. You couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell where he was looking but his vision bore like laser’s into your skin. You felt electric. He could have watched forever and you wouldn’t mind at all.

You dunked under the cold water, cleaning yourself and cooling off the heat of your body. You found your clothes laid out on the bank, where Din had been standing before. You smiled, dried off and dressed before re-emerging from the reeds.

The sun was going down now, barely a sliver above the horizon. Stars came out, colouring the night sky with constellations. The Mandalorian had a good fire going. A field rat hung over the flames cooking away.

“Sit close to the fire so you can dry off properly,” He said as you approached. You smiled and nodded, feeling brave enough to sit next to him rather than across as you had done the other night. He was opposed to your decision and didn’t move when you settled down next to him in the grass. “The wound looked like it's healing well,” He said after a moment of quiet.

“That’s all you were looking at?” You asked with a smirk.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” He apologised, a little ashamed at his voyeurism.

“I didn’t say I minded,” You smiled, sweet on the surface but the wicked fire in your eyes told him exactly what he wanted. He shivered under your gaze and moved quickly to get away from your scrutiny, turning his attention to stoking the fire again. You laughed to yourself and settled back onto your elbows to watch the stars.

This night was so different from the one before. You didn’t watch him so intently, trusting that he wouldn’t suddenly try to rob you or kill you. You were relaxed, as much as you could in the circumstances. Your earlier question of the character of the Mandalorian was slowly being answered. He was a mixture of good and kind, and cold and calculated. You couldn’t forget how viciously he had attacked you all those years ago, how bloody and raw those warriors had been left in the forest. But simultaneously you couldn’t forget his kindness in saving you, his care for your wellbeing as you walked today. How bashful he became when you confronted him about his peeping. You could hear the embarrassment in his voice. If he was a cold and heartless killer like you thought him to be, he would not take your teasing. He wouldn’t be embarrassed. No, this Mandalorian much like everyone else was complicated. Under that beskar somewhere lay a man, who unfortunately you were starting to like.

You couldn’t hate him. Not when he had found and cooked food for you to share. Din had pulled the field rat off the spit, opened it up and pulled out the cooked meat. He passed you half before collecting his own. You initially curled your lip at the charred remains in your lap but there was no other choice. It was that or starve.

Din opened his mouth to speak, to tell you to stay put as he sat behind you but was astounded at how quickly you’d turned your back on him giving him the privacy he needed. Metal hit the ground with a thud, you stayed perfectly still. Din noticed instantly, his chest becoming heavy as he saw your fear. You had been friendly all day, talking as if you were friends but the way you sat in front of him like caught prey reminded him that wasn’t the case.

You surprised him, it was rare for people to understand so quickly, let alone someone like you. Someone who hated him, had tried to kill him, usually, they’d mock him and refuse unless he threatened them, like he’d done to you last night. You didn’t say a word. You respected him.

So, he ate slower. Taking the time to enjoy his food, as much as you can enjoy slightly burnt field rat. He picked at the meat, pulling it apart with his fingers. His quiet groan of pleasure at the taste of his food made your ears prick and hair stand up on edge. You’d teased him for watching you in the river, but if he sat behind you and made sounds like that you were going to have to do something. Call it Stockholm syndrome, some kind of weird lapse of judgement due to the stress of your predicament but you found yourself liking the Mandalorian. He had tried to kill you before, he should terrify you, but the fact he was such a mystery, and a dangerous one at that, made him all the more enticing.

Din didn’t miss the way you’d pricked up at the noise he’d made. He didn’t mean to, it had just slipped from his lips. A new kind of hunger took over him as he finished his meal. He wanted you. The memory of you in the river cast over him. He wondered how soft your skin would feel, fresh from the mineral waters you’d bathed in. You smelt so fresh from where he was sitting, how much better would it be with his nose in your hair. He’d been hungry for days, but this hunger had gone unsolved for months, he could hardly remember the last time he’d held someone, kissed someone, fucked someone.

Without realising it Din had moved closer to you. His hands ghosted over your hair, wanting desperately to run his fingers through it. He wanted to touch you, to feel you. He leant over, just outside your peripheral vision and placed a kiss on your cheek. It was short, shorter as you startled at the sudden touch. Din retreated quickly, your sudden movement startling him too.

“What was that?” You asked sharply. Din frowned, instantly regretting his action. To his surprise, you didn’t make a move to look at him.

“Wh-what do you mean?” He stuttered, all confidence draining from his body.

“Kiss me properly if you’re going to kiss me,” you said confidently. A simple touch of his lips to your cheek had set you alight, you were startled but didn’t want him to stop.

Din grinned in the dark and surged forward to kiss you properly. The sharp scratch of stubble surprised you as he kissed you. His lips were soft as passion dripped into your mouth as your mouth opened to him in a gasp. The Mandalorian pulled you closer, turning you to face him properly. You hissed in pain when his hand brushed over your wound. He whispered an apology, moving down to your jaw. His nose brushed along your jaw taking in the clean and earthy scent of you.

His kiss travelled down your neck. The burn of his stumble on your soft skin made you sigh and open up to him more. Din could feel himself falling into you, your scent and taste, the noises that you were making just from his kisses were driving him insane. He could stop if he needed but he didn’t want to. He could trust you.

His hands stroked down your arms, taking your wrist into his grip. He continued his assault on your neck as he lifted it. He placed your hand over your eyes, holding your wrist tight to keep it in place. His warm hand over yours was oddly comforting.

“Move your hand and I stop, yes?” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling you and sending a shiver up your spine, “I don’t want to kill you, but I will,”

“I understand,”

If there was any way you could have predicted the ending of your adventure with the Mandalorian there would be no way you could have predicted the events of the previous night.

He was good. Surprisingly good. You were a little shocked, having thought he was some celibate mercenary monk type character, but he knew what he was doing. If there weren’t stars above you, he’d made you see more. He was careful not to hurt you but didn’t hold out. Edges of your previous hatred for one another dipped in, adding so much to the event. You woke up sore in a completely different and entirely satisfying way.

You set out for the final stretch of the journey with a smile on your face. Your blaster was left alone in its holster and the Mandalorian walked beside you. You trusted him.

The final stretch was the most challenging. Through a rocky ravine, you had to climb over boulders and through tight passes. If you could have gone over you would, but the hundred-foot sheer cliff faces took that option away from you pretty fast. The Mandalorian walked slower to allow you to keep up, taking hold of your chest armour when the weight became too much to take anymore. You still couldn’t understand the reasoning behind his kindness but accepted it easily. He wouldn’t leave you more than ten foot behind, despite your insistence on leaving you to catch up on your own he refused and waited for you before enforcing a rest stop so you could catch your breath and continue. After hours of walking through the rocky pass, red stone finally gave way to green grass and blue sky once more.

You saw the city gates on the horizon and your heart began to ache. You had almost forgotten what you were walking back to. You had to tell the Master that his daughter was dead, that your entire team was burnt alive and you were the only survivor. You were dead for sure. Being the outsider anyway put you on rocky ground, this would be the final straw.

Din could sense your nervousness. Even if you didn’t express it verbally, he knew you were anxious to return. He thought you were brave for doing so, but you didn’t have a choice. If you ran you could never stay hidden from the Master. You were dead either way, at least if you brought yourself in you could argue your case.

Citizens lined the wall of the city, flags waving and cheering songs danced on the breeze as soon as you and the Mandalorian were spotted. You walked through the outlying villages with heads hung low as the people ran up to you expecting their princess in tow. When they saw the two of you alone their cries of joy turned to silence.

You reached the city gates and it seemed nobody had noticed, bells rang out and drums echoes from inside. Children waved from the wall, happy and excited to see you. The whispers started, turned into murmurs and soon the yells of praise and joy were spitting insults and exclamations of pain. People yelled out questions, what had happened to the princess, where was she, who’d killed the princess. Why hadn’t you saved her? Your heart sunk, you couldn’t lift your eyes from the ground as you and the Mandalorian were escorted to the palace.

Din always hated a failed mission, letting targets getaway in mistakes was what kept him up at night, but this was so much worse. He didn’t have any personal connection to the girl but the vitriol spat at you and him as you walked through was tough to take. He kept his head up, trying to think of a plan for what might happen next.

The news of your failure had spread fast, arriving at the Master’s feet before you did. You knelt at his throne, the Mandalorian standing beside you.

“What news do you bring?” The Master asked. He didn’t need your answer, he just wanted to watch you squirm.

“I am afraid we were unsuccessful Master. An accident occurred at the camp and we two are the only survivors of the event. There was no way of recovering your daughter, I apologise,” You said finally looking up at him. Your voice was calm, collected and confident. There was nothing you could do now, it didn’t matter whether you were visibly upset or not.

“Mandalorian? Do they speak the truth?”

“Yes. Charges were set in the mines beneath the location and set as soon as we arrived,” He elaborated.

“I appreciate the aide Mandalorian, however without a successful return of my daughter I cannot pay you,” The master said. Din nodded, having expected as much, “Guards arrest L/n,”

“I assure you we did everything we could to get your daughter, none of this was their fault,” Din insisted.

“You are dismissed, Mando,” The Master ordered. Din didn’t move, his blaster raised at the guards approaching, standing between you and them to protect you.

“Stop it,” You hissed at him, alarmed that he was putting his survival at risk for you.

“Put the blaster down, Mandalorian. You are far outnumbered here. I suggest you leave me while you still can unless you would like to join L/n in front of a firing squad,”

“It’s not worth it,” You whispered, as you pushed yourself to stand up. You gritted your teeth as pain shot through you. You both knew this was how it would end, there was no other way, “I accept my fate,” You spoke loud enough for everyone else to hear. Din didn’t accept it, he refused to. He had only just got you into his life, whatever the relationship was between you two he wasn’t going to let you die for something that wasn’t your fault.

You were surrounded inside the palace. Din’s defiance was only drawing more soldiers in. The chances of either you or Din coming out alive were drawing in. You knew the Mandalorian was worth more, something inside you told you he had a great destiny before him. While our crossed paths had arrived at a pleasant spot you would like to continue, if that was the final destination of your lives then you wouldn’t be the one pulling him to a halt with you.

You stepped into the Mandalorian’s vision, soldiers drawing closer, and you placed your hand over his blaster. You looked directly into his visor, staring directly into his eyes. You didn’t have to speak, he knew it was over. Slowly, Din lowered his weapon and stepped back. With his hands up he nodded to the Master who smiled smugly and gave you one last look. As soon as the Mandalorian walked away the guards were on you, hands roughly tugged behind your back and into harsh cuffs.

Din didn’t look back. Couldn’t. If he did he would do something he would regret. The Master’s voice echoed out of the Palace doors relaying your sentence. You were to be executed at sundown. Din pulled himself into a comfortable stoic calm, and indifference forced upon himself to allow him to carry on. He walked out of the city with nothing. Penniless, hungry and alone.

The Razor Crest provided some comfort as it always did. No matter what changed around his outside could always be corrected inside the silver confines of his ship. He had enough fuel to get him to the next populated planet, hopefully, he would find work there to get food. He settled into the cockpit, flicking through maps for a while to see where he could go. After a while, the exhaustion of not sleeping properly for three days caught up and Din fell asleep in the pilot seat.

“Oi! Mando! Open up!” Hard rock being thrown at the front of the Crest and the sound of your voice startled him awake. It was dark now, the moon high in the sky above him. Din’s heart sunk, it was just a dream. You were gone now.

He let himself wonder for a moment if he could have done more, knowing that probably wasn’t true. The galaxy had a way of making things work out the way they should no matter what he did. He settled back against his chair again, head resting on his chest when something slammed against the side of the ship and shouted for him again and he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

He did a double-take when he saw you at the door. Dishevelled and breathing heavily, you grinned up at him. “I thought you were dead,” He said.

“I will be if you don’t let me in in a minute,” You looked over your shoulder as speeder lights approached over the brim of the hill. Din had barely stepped aside before you barreled into the ship.

He stared at you in the low light of the hull. confused by the image you presented. Your armour was half missing, only your chest plates and one thigh plate remained and you were covered in blood. You were not only alive but you had fought well for it. Considering the state you had been in just hours before, barely able to stand up unaided, he was astonished.

“What? It’s not my blood if you’re worried about that,” You wiped your face with the back of your hand then wiping it on your pant leg. “Hurry up and get this ship in the sky. We need to go right now,”

A blaster shot ricochet off the side of the Crest, the sound of bikes coming closer, setting Din back into motion. He raced back up to the cockpit to set off. You followed quickly and watched as the Mandalorian set to getting the ship into the air while under attack. You jumped into the seat behind him, giddy with excitement as the weight of what you had just done inside the city walls had not yet settled in. You were high on adrenaline. The engines roared into life and suddenly the Mandalorian turned back to look at you.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” He said.

“I’m glad I’m not dead too,” you smiled, warmth spreading through your body at the sentiment, “now please can we go,” A shot hit the front window making you duck instinctively. “Go!”

happy may the fourth guys!! omg i missed writing din so much!!

tags: @beskar-falcon @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @this-cat-is-dea @dameronology @fandom-blackhole @artsymaddie

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Leviathan's Odyssey 5:

God

*Mammon is happily about to break into Lucifer's study yet again when he hears the sound of banging metal and high-pitched shrieking coming from the kitchen... Knowing what the likely source, he swallows his reluctance in order to go check on what's happening*

*Beel is in the kitchen when he runs in, having narrowly dodged the flying butcher knife that lodges into the wall next to his ear… Little Satan is strapped into a high chair, wailing at the top of his lungs and banging his fists against a nearby countertop*

Mammon: BEEL!! What the hell is goin’ on in here!? Weren’t ya in charge of feedin’ him??

Satan: DIE!!!! DIE!! Diedie!!!

*a frying pan appears to float off of its hook and goes flying towards Mammon’s face but Beel manages to grab its handle before it knocks him out*

Beel: I was! But I think I made him mad…!!

Mammon: *gulps when he sees the metal pan just an inch from his nose, but has to push it aside quickly* He’s ALWAYS mad, Beel! What'cha do this time??

Beel: Nothing! *ducks a riocheting butter knife* I just…! Well…

Mammon: Spit it out already!!

Beel: I was trying to teach him how to eat, okay?? But he poked himself with a fork and lost it!

Satan: DIIIEEEE!!!!!

*previously thrown kitchen supplies lift off of the floor and start flying at them for a round two. Beel rips a cabinet door from its hinges to shield them while Mammon takes the frying pan to bat away the murderous forks and spoons*

Mammon: Beel!! We agreed that we weren’t givin’ him that stuff yet! He’ll kill us all!!

Beel: Yeah, yeah I know but it’s not fair! He should learn how to feed himself like the rest of us!

Mammon: Now’s not the time for “fair,” Beel!!

*apparently hearing the commotion himself, Asmo storms into the kitchen wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a beauty mask - but even covered in cleanser, he look PISSED*

Asmo: WHY IS IT SO LOUD IN HERE!?!

*Mammon grabs Asmo by the arm and pulls him out of the way of an iron cauldron careening his way. Asmo shrieks at the sudden pull and clutches onto Mammon for dear life following the close save*

Asmo: What is the little monster doing now?!? Why are things flying??

Mammon: Quit callin’ him a monster and hell if I know! It’s not like he knows any spells!!

Beel: *whacks away a meat tenderizer aimed at Asmo’s cheek* I think he’s just really mad!

Asmo: *throws his hands up in despair* Of course of all the babies in all the world, we managed to get one that radiates homicide!!

Mammon: Shut your trap and go wake up Belphie! Lucifer’s still with Diavolo so he’s gotta be the one to put him to sleep this time!

Asmo: Me?? Why me??? Belphie won’t get up for me, make Beel do it!

Mammon: Are ya blind AND stupid?? I need Beel here with me! Just scream or something ‘till Belphie wakes up! It’s all you’re good for anyway!

Asmo: Shut up, you money-grubbing dirtbag!!

Beel: NOT THE TIME!! GO NOW!!!

*Asmo yelps a bit at the volume, but he manages to run out of the kitchen without much injury*

Satan: DIE!! Die! Die! DIE!!

Mammon: *pops his head out from behind their cover* Yeah we get it little buddy, ya don’t like us! But would it kill ya to cut it out??

Satan: DIIIIEEEE!!!!!!

*Mammon quickly jerks back behind the "shield" as a set of five knives all lodge themselves into it*

Mammon: Fuck, okay nevermind!!

*it only takes a couple minutes of fighting off the cutlery for Asmo to come back with a drowsy, but upright, Belphie in tow*

Belphie: What’s happening here…??

Mammon: No time for explainin’!

*Mammon swiftly grabs Belphie and sticks him behind Beel before taking the cabinet door from him*

Mammon: Grab another, Beel!

*while Beel rips off the other door, Mammon keeps shouting over the chaos*

Mammon: Belph, ya gotta knock out the kid! Beel and I will protect ya, just stay behind us then get’em outta the chair! Do what ya gotta do after that!

Belphie: *stays right behind Beel but groans* What did you do this time…??

Mammon: Shuddup and move!!

*the three of them start approaching the baby in the high chair, still wailing at the top of his lungs. Between the two cabinet doors and their combined reflexes, Beel and Mammon are able to keep Belphie more or less shielded from the flying utensils until they finally get close enough from him to make a move*

*Belphie jumps forward enough to grab the buckle to Satan’s seat, ignoring his little fists as they try to rip his hair out, and he gets the baby out of the chair as quick as he can manage*

Belphie: Ow!! Okay, lights out, kid!!

*Belphie sticks his hand over Satan’s eyes and, gradually, his struggling loses its gusto until the little baby falls asleep in his arms. All the kitchen supplies fall to the ground and it seems like his tantrum is finally over…*

Mammon: *drops the “shield” he was holding* Oh thank fuck that worked!! No more forks for him, Beel!

Beel: *also sets down his “shield” and looks down guiltily* But how is he ever going to eat right…?

Mammon: We’ll just have to teach him when he gets better.

Belphie: “If” he gets better…

*there’s a silence between the brothers as the gravity of that thought sinks in… What if he never gets any better…?*

*But then the little boy yawns*

Satan: *yaaaawn* Pa…

*all heads in the room snap towards the baby demon and everyone holds their breath. That was a new sound… right?*

Satan: Pa… Per… wish…

Beel: “Per… wish?”

Belphie: I think he meant, “Perish…”

Asmo: *groans* Of course his second word also means, “Die!”

Mammon: But he’s learnin’! That’s what Lucifer said, right?

*Mammon comes over and carefully takes the sleeping Satan from Belphie, holding him not unlike how he used to do all of them when they were young*

Mammon: He’ll get better, alright? Believe your big brothers for once! Ya guys weren’t all that different than this...

Asmo: *rolls his eyes* That’s such a lie...

Mammon: Shuddup Asmo, I’m serious! We just gotta be patient…

Beel: Do you think Lilith could have calmed him down…?

*again, there’s another silence in the room… aside from Satan’s soft snoring. For once, it seems like his little brothers are looking at Mammon for something… comfort maybe?*

Mammon: Lilith… *he fights the urge to bite his lip by holding Satan a little tighter* Lilith woulda been patient with’em… Levi too. They’d have helped us out…

Belphie: If they were still here…

Mammon: *sighs* Yeah Belphie. If they were still here… but we don’t gotta focus on that part, ya know?

*Mammon starts walking towards the exit, patting little Satan on his sleepy head*

Mammon: I’m puttin’ the little shit to bed. Ya got feedin’ duty again tomorrow, Beel. No forks this time.

Beel: *nods quietly* Alright…

Mammon: *stops at the doorway and looks back* Oh. And “not it” explainin’ this mess to Lucifer. Ya gotta figure that out yourselves!

*as his brothers start to shout out in protest, Mammon just laughs triumphantly while he starts down the hallway. Looks like something isn’t his fault for once*

~Meanwhile in the Deepest Depths of the Ocean~

*for the first time since his conquest began, Levi is completely alone in the darkness. Having conquered every part of the seas above, all he has left is the deepest trenches to explore… home to the nightmares even his army refuses to face*

*perhaps being a stranger to this world has helped him. Whatever force commanded his troops to stay above has no sway on his mind. Even Lotan, his most trusted general, wouldn't follow him into these shadows...*

*he's told only one thing lives here. A creature beyond all comprehension... A being without form, without thought, and without convention, and yet festers into consciousness like a blight on all existence... A creature for which all other monsters fear to the point of insanity yet, strangely, Levi remains undaunted...*

*his mantra of loathing shields him as much as it consumes him. He’ll bow to no beast who believes they're better than him, no matter their size or strength. No one can think they’re better than he is... He’ll prove their lives are worthless in the end*

*finding the creature proved easy. He only had to follow the strings of insanity attempting to strangle his mind, growing ever thicker the closer he’d come. A lesser being may have felt helpless approaching it… a shattering insignificance compared to One that Defies All: a primordial essence from which those below the depths are connected and yet through denial believe to be their own... A Greater Power. A God*

*... but he’s fought a God before. All he saw before him now was an Abomination*

*and what he eventually saw skewered on the end of his trident was just another step on his journey of conquest - even as blood the color of madness plumed in the water around him, boiling his skin and contorting his bones... When the ranting clutter in his mind finally quieted, Levi was something new entirely…*

*he didn’t need to return to his army to feel their presence now. His metamorphosis completed when a ghastly wail that escaped his throat, carried telepathically through the waters around him. A clear signal to all who felt it... Above the sea, you’d hear nothing. But below...*

*a cacophony of shrieks. A chorus of howls. The roar of a new Master and the response of an entire ocean now at his disposal...*

*An army of unspeakable terror flourishing just out of sight…*

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

#am i saying levi killed an elder god?#that is exactly what i'm saying #i will die on this hill #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me scenarios #obey me fic #obey me headcanons

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baeklooming-day · 3 years

Text

Meet me at the game arcade | Baekhyun

𓍢 Summary: There is this boy at the game arcade who is determined to win not only the plushie, but you together with it.

Masterlist

𓍢 Mini-playlist 💖 Moodboard by @kjikaila

𓍢 Genre: 90s!AU, Fluff, Cheeky Baek is back (you know the thing!!)

𓍢 Word Count: 6.6k

𓍢 A/N: Big credit to my beloved Tokyo, because I used to hang out at game arcades after school and often cute boys could be found there. 😇

Purple-ish, violet-ish, even blue-ish looking twinkling beams were soaking through the two lonely, candy floss bearing resemblance to fluffish clouds which appeared to cover the city beneath for a little while.

It wasn’t even summer anymore, but the sun seemed to be in a mood to let the light spill on everything beneath, letting little sparkles of vitamin D play on the walls of buildings, shining through the glass in windows, gleaming on all these colorful advertisements plastered around the district and making it seem as if the city was floating in the glinting sensation, warm light reflecting all possible kinds and shades of beautiful lilac color palettes.

Usually, you wouldn’t be the one to appreciate a similar weather very much, but given that the last two weeks had been nothing but wholly rainy and generally anything but pleasant in terms of weather outside, you found yourself being happy to be able to welcome the prickling sunlight on your skin.

You rested your chin on your knuckles, slowly closing your eyes and letting a lazy smile fall onto your scarlet tinted lips. You considered yourself lucky enough that you usually managed to arrive in class before all of your classmates, given that in that manner you could always pick the best seat without having to rush through the hallways to reach the classroom and dash to your desired desk.

And today, after all those gloomy days soaked in cold raindrops and weighing dust grey clouds, you found your seat to be even more than perfect.

The classroom wasn’t big, it was actually way smaller than you would like it to be, but as if to recompense that it had really large windows. And large windows meant a lot of sunlight to pour into the room through them, an obvious fact of which you couldn’t be more content about as you sat comfortably in the penultimate seat right beside one of those windows.

You had stopped paying attention to the lesson for what already felt like a whole thirty minutes ago, the dancing sunbeams only making you feel lazier and also kind of sleepy, completely switching off your usual concentration. You continued letting your face bathe in the pleasant sun rays which, now playfully peeking through the glass were gracing the monotonous classroom in cheerful gold shimmers. Your thoughts in the back of your mind started to slowly mix together with your teacher’s soft voice speaking about the last pages of your Japanese lecture in the background of which, right in that moment, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care about.

Your classmates were surprisingly quiet today, and in that current state you would probably soon drift away into your own personal dreamland even further, if not the little vibration coming from your phone placed under your hand on your desk.

For a split second you almost got a mini heart attack as the sudden text message made your pastel purple Nokia 3310 let out some rattling sounds as it moved ever so slightly on the wooden surface of your desk. You looked around a little bit startled, hoping that nobody noticed the brief faint noise.

Pulled back into reality, you quickly slid the device behind your equally purple colored pencil case, unblocking the screen with a click of one button and checking the received SMS. You felt a wide smile spreading on your lips as you read the text, it being from your friend announcing to you that her classes ended earlier today, and that she would be waiting for you to join her outside by the school entrance.

As you threw a quick glance at both the clocks on your screen and on the wall above the door, you found yourself seriously envying your friend, because it looked just as if she was always getting the cooler and chiller teachers who were actually able to understand that on the last lesson on Friday the kids weren’t the most likely to sit still and obediently follow the lesson anymore. Also given that today’s schedule, just like every other Friday which was simply laughable in your honest opinion, was absurdly long. Your lessons extended from eight in the morning until past three in the afternoon, which compared to the earlier weekdays you just refused to acknowledge.

You let out a deep sigh as another long minute had passed on the clock, mentally begging the time or whoever or whatever might be in charge of time management in the universe to quicken it up a bit.

Almost fifteen minutes left until the long awaited, two days freedom, also commonly known as the weekend. Just like everybody else, you were always impatiently waiting for the last lesson to be finally over and to let you hang out with some friends, and do other longed for fun activities for which you unfortunately didn’t have any time during the normal school week.

Until just now, you had always been included in the casual hangouts at the mall with your wide group of school friends, in going to the theater to check out the latest movie releases, or meeting up at your, by now beloved, cute small diner to eat some cherry cakes which quickly became popular around the area. But as of recently, the loud ringing sound on Fridays which announced the end of the lessons and beginning of the weekend, totally changed its meaning for you.

You weren’t as thrilled as you saw the large advertisement for the opening of a brand new game arcade for the first time on your way home one day, but as soon as you and your friend Miko decided to quickly see what it was all about and peeked inside on the big opening day, you already knew that you would visit and spend your coins at that place much more often than anyone could even imagine.

It was one of the branches belonging to SEGA group, it wasn’t any super large game arcade but at the same time it also wasn’t the smallest you had ever been in.

It was just ideal, and managed to balance perfectly the two things which you used to be crazy about the most when you were a little younger.

With that being said, the new game arcade was divided into more or less two sections, one being filled with all kinds of games starting with The Legend Of Zelda and ending on Pokémon, Super Mario, and many, many more in between. The second section was a little bit different, but not less interesting, perhaps only overlooking the fact that most of the time it tended to be a lot more nerve-wracking than you could ever expect from its harmless and pretty appearance.

The free space was filled with all kinds of plushie and toy automats, the whole room being so eye-catching and colorful that it was almost impossible to just pass by without giving it a proper look. It had literally everything you could ever dream of, soft and lovely teddy bears in every possible color, dolls, game characters, manga figures, even little charms which you could attach to your keys or your bag.

Truly a magical place flowing with milk and honey, if not the one unnerving fact that very often it was literally impossible to get the doll you wanted out of the automat at first try. Of course, it wasn’t such a big deal given that one turn costed exactly one hundred yen which wasn’t a handful of money after all. But if you calculated all your losses and all your future, probably failed as well, attempts together, you were very likely bound to leave at least around one thousand yen at the game arcade for literally nothing in return.

Sometimes you couldn’t hold yourself back from wondering that maybe that was the secret of the success of game arcades, and that the companies designed the automats like that on purpose to always drop the toy before it could even reach the hole and land safely in your hands.

There were times where you would loose even more than a thousand yen in an attempt to win the plushie you wanted, almost throwing your wallet against the glass as it became always much lighter and lighter with passing of each failed round.

There were times like this at the very beginning of that arcade fever, but after a while you found yourself becoming always better and better at fishing out all those dolls and bears. As the time flew by, you also found your bedroom nearly starting to drown in all those soft joys of every childhood.

But you didn’t really care.

And as soon as you got a notice that there was a new plushie automat to be about to be installed in the game arcade, you just knew that you needed to try it out immediately with the first better opportunity.

Which just came perfectly today.

You almost let out a squeak of joy as the bell finally rang, announcing the long awaited end of the last Friday’s lesson.

You quickly collected all your belongings from your desk and your seat, swinging your lilac bag over your shoulder and rushing out of the classroom in the direction of the stairs.

Luckily enough, you managed to dash through the corridor and down the stairs before the crowds of other students could block you.

As you reached the exit of the school building, you saw Miko standing right in front of it, her back turned at you. She was lightly swinging to the left and to the right, probably listening to some music on her brand new MP3 player she’d been talking about lately.

A little mischievous smile fell on your soft lips as a marvelous idea popped up in your head.

You took a few steps forward, careful to be quiet but, considering the fact that the music in her earphones was probably blasting, you didn’t exactly need to. You slowly pushed the glass door open, sneaking up on her and swiftly throwing your hands before her eyes to cover them.

„Holy freak!” Miko let out a startled scream, gaining a muffled laugh from you. „Who’s this? Y/N?” She started to turn her head to one side and to another, making you chuckle even more at the sight.

„It’s me. Mario.” You said, still covering her eyes and trying not to laugh out loud, seeing that you were visibly in a great mood today.

„And I’m Luigi. Can I get my vision back now, please?” She said, placing her hands on yours and pulling them away.

„Do you have enough ready money for the afternoon?” You asked, moving to stand in front of her.

„No duh, I’ve got exactly ten of one hundred yen coins just for the occasion.” She held up her blue wallet for you to see, the sound of loose coins bumping into each other audible as she gently shook it. „And I’m not going to spend a single yen more today, last weekend was fly but I became poorer of a whole six thousand.”

You sent her a scrutinizing look. „And you really think that it will be enough? You know, I’ve already told you before that they have a new automat and stuff.”

„Yes, you have, but still. If I don’t get the doll I want after two tries, I’m bouncing. And I will play Super Mario for the rest of the evening.”

„As if! I know you Miko, you will get just as addicted as every other time.” You let out a laugh, grabbing your friend’s hand and pulling her forward together with you.

„No, I’m telling you!”

The two of you continued to chatter along as you walked in the direction of the game arcade. It wasn’t that much of a long walk, knowing that it was located just a few streets away from your school.

The sun had yet quite an amount of time to start setting, but as you walked between the buildings decorated with bright and colorful advertisements of all possible kinds, it started to throw even more beams which reflected all those purple, blue, and yellow colors, surrounding you with a fairy like atmosphere in the afternoon hours.

„You know, last time as I was in the arcade I asked which dolls will the new automat have, and they told me that it would be supposed to have teddy bears, and-” You talked, being completely caught up in your own bubbling excitement about the new gain in the game arcade.

„Teddy bears?” Miko interrupted your flowing thoughts. „Y/N, you’ve already got like, a whole room of teddy bears. Not mentioning that last time you won not one, but TWO identical Totoro plushies and a Sailor Moon doll, too.” She rolled her eyes, giving you a questioning look. „You own a whole load of them. A whole storage! I’m actually asking myself if there is anything in the entire arcade what you haven’t got at home yet.”

„Well, I mean, that new automat is supposed to have a panda bear plushie and a plain white teddy bear, so, you know, I need to enrich my collection with these two.” You said, reaching your hand to your bag to pull out your phone.

You failed to notice the small group of boys, more or less around your age, walking past you and directing themselves straight into the game arcade building which finally came into your view.

You were just about to answer a text message from one of your other friends, when you were rapidly pulled back into reality with a not so gentle nudge to your side.

„What-” You turned your head to your left to look at Miko, question marks visible in your eyes as you were met with your friend’s amazed expression. „What? Why did you stop all of a sudden?”

„Y/N, I think you don’t see what I’m seeing. Look.” She pointed her finger at some point in the distance, a little blush coloring her cheeks.

You followed where she was pointing, finally noticing the group of boys from earlier which you failed to see.

There were four of them altogether, standing before the open arcade entrance and talking eagerly. Two of them were really tall, whilst the other two were rather short in their height, but all of them were wearing plain white tees. Your eye caught one of the shorter boys, who as the only one among them was wearing a blue bomber jacket with white prints. He had what you would call a baby face, his features were soft, or at least you could observe that much standing a few meters away from him. His hair was of a chocolate brown color, and as his voice reached your ears, you had to admit that it sounded truly so smooth like velvet.

You felt your own two cheeks warming up a little, a sensation which you didn’t like even a bit, as the boy locked eyes with you, his wide smile immediately disappearing from his lips only to be replaced by an expression of awe.

You stood there completely frozen in your spot, clenching your purple Nokia in your hand and feeling slightly flabbergasted by the whole sudden situation, not really knowing what was going on.

The last thing you saw before you were harshly pulled back into reality once again, was the other three boys looking questioningly at their friend who’s eyes were fixed on you, soon the entire group looking right at you.

And then you heard it, the loud ‘ooooooh’, ‘damn’, and ‘oh my god’ followed by the three of them lightly hitting the shoulders of their friend, starting to shake him and becoming even louder when he didn’t react, instead still looking at you.

When you finally snapped out of the weird trance, you quickly turned to your side to Miko who was now covering her mouth to prevent the invasive giggles from escaping.

„Oh snap.” You only said.

„Y/N, THIS, this is exactly what I’ve been talking about.” She said. „You are always so immersed in the games that you totally fail to notice all those cute boys being around!” She almost exclaimed the last words, stomping her both feet on the ground repeatedly, for some reason visibly excited.

„Well that was hella weird.” You said, still trying to process what had just happened. „Do you know them?”

„Um, well, I mean-” She started, now her being the one to grab your hand and pull you forward. „I keep my eyes always wide open, you know. And I just happened to see them at the game arcade the last time we were there. That hottie in a blue jacket seemed to have taken an instant liking to you back then already, but we bounced out too quickly for them to approach us.” She blabbered, instantly becoming a thousand times more cheerful than before.

The two of you were coming always nearer to the entrance of the arcade, and what followed always nearer to the group of boys who, now noticeably quieter, were still standing in their spot.

With your left hand still being held by Miko and your right hand still holding onto your phone, you tried your best to avoid the gaze of the said boy in a blue jacket as the two of you continued moving closer to the entrance.

What was his deal anyway?

„You know what Miko, did you take a good look at them when you said that you saw them before?” You asked your friend, feeling your cheeks heating up once again as you accidentally locked eyes with the boy one more time. „I mean, maybe from a close up they’ll be total monets.” You added, not even knowing what you were trying to convince yourself about, because as you came always closer you had to admit that the said group were even better looking from up close.

„Awe, Y/N, always the negatory. I’m sure they’re not some scrubs too, though. Besides, just look at them now.” She said, an ounce above a whisper. „They could totally be in a boy group with those looks.”

And unfortunately, you couldn’t deny, as with every following step you were getting a more detailed view, as well as you were feeling more and more being practically eaten by those two dazzling eyes which didn’t leave you even for a brief moment.

You just wanted to get inside the arcade and concentrate yourself on the new plushie automat, not on dealing with some random group of boys who apparently enjoyed staring at girls way too much for your liking.

That was right, as said it was too much for YOUR liking, but Miko didn’t seem to mind at all.

Even the whole opposite, she seemed to be having the time of her life, particularly when the other shorter boy with big cat-like eyes sent her a dazzling smile.

„Oh snap, oh snap, oh snap, did you see that, Y/N, I think I forgot how to breathe.” A scarlet blush spread on her cheeks, whilst she nervously squeezed your hand. „That guy is literally so handsome.”

„Girl, Miko-” You started gently, but as you looked at her frozen in her spot with literal hearts in her eyes, you knew she was already gone to make some lovey-dovey unthinkable scenarios in her head.

You talking wasn’t probably going to do much anyway, but you needed to snap her out of it.

You tried to gently pull her with you and finally enter the arcade. „Miko.”

Nothing.

„Miko-”

Still nothing, and as you threw a quick glance at the boys, you saw that the one with big eyes was continuing to unceremoniously smile at your friend, meanwhile she was returning all those candy smiles.

What was it, a smiling contest?

No, you thought, that was completely stupid.

„Miko, I swear-” You snapped your whole arm into the direction of the entrance to bring her attention back to the arcade a little too harshly, forgetting that you were still holding your phone in that hand.

In the result, your phone was sent flying out of your hand all the way across the sidewalk which separated the two of you from the group of boys, before you could do anything to stop it.

You watched in terror as it ended its small flight right in front of the boy in blue jacket, landing with a loud thud on the ground by his feet.

„MY NOKIAAAA!!” You yelled, not caring at all about the other people around who were now giving you weird or startled looks.

„Y/N-” Miko seemed to finally notice what was going on when you let go of her hand, and started to take large steps closer to the boy to collect your phone.

You could clearly see it as his face immediately lit up and his eyes rapidly fell on your purple Nokia laying on the ground, apparently an idea coming to his mind.

„For the love of-” You mumbled through your teeth, as you watched him bend over to pick up your item. „... all the snaps given.”

You let out a low sigh as you ruffled your silky hair with your hand, starting to finally walk into the direction of the boy, being extra careful not to accidentally lock eyes with him once more.

You had always been that exact type of person who wanted to avoid any unnecessary interaction with other people, in particular if you had other, significantly more important plans ahead of you and didn’t want to lose your time.

That could be an issue right now, you thought to yourself as with every step closer to him his smile grew wider, not even trying to conceal it.

„Um-” You started, as you stood right in front of his frolic face. „That would be mine.” You said, raising your finger up to point at your phone.

Your eyes quickly fell on the purple surface and the screen, trying to thoroughly inspect if any possible damages had been done by the fall.

The boy seemed to notice the visible concern im your eyes, letting out a soft, melodic chuckle whilst handing your Nokia to you. „I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” He said. „This model is practically indestructible. Lasts longer than most relationships.”

His remark made you raise one eyebrow at him, squinting your eyes ever so slightly whilst you retrieved your phone. „What a nice comparison. And you’ll be speaking out of experience, I assume?”

You were absolutely sure that your unpleasant comeback would make him immediately not wanting to continue to talk to you, but to your surprise you couldn’t be more wrong. Instead of a sign of dislike, you could make out a sparkle of fondness shining even brighter in his brown eyes.

Weird, you thought.

“No, I’m not.” The boy replied, smiling contentedly. “I was actually quietly hoping that mine would outlive any model of Nokia 3310.” He added, giving you a smile sweeter than the previous one.

In response, you merely granted him a brief look before taking a step away, intending to finally enter the arcade. “Good luck with that.”

Trying to completely conceal the awareness of his glowing presence still behind you, you quickened your pace, basically dashing through the open doors to the inside of the colorful arcade and not even bothering to wait for Miko anymore.

As soon as you went inside you were met with a lot of frolicsome lights and sparkles, the small alleyways between all sorts of games being flooded with light coming from the screens of game automats, each one of them showing the start menu of a different popular game on the lambent display.

It didn’t take you too long to find the longed for, newest, totally polished and even more so inviting plushie automat which has been continuously on your mind this whole time, basically calling out your name to you as soon as you finally came to a view of it.

It was lovely, appearing even more so enthralling to you in real life than as it did on the mere advertisements plastered around the arcade.

Without losing a single minute, you took your wallet out of your bag and took a large step closer to the automat, your eyes stopping on every plushie trying to decide which one to go for.

Finally, they stopped on a cute small panda bear which instead of being just plainly black and white, was purple and white.

That was the one.

You opened your wallet, taking one shining coin of one hundred yen worth.

Just as you were about to throw it into the automat, you were startled by a sudden familiar voice coming from right behind you.

“Hey home skillet, why did you run off like that?” Miko materialized herself next to your ducked down figure, leaning on the glass of the plushie automat.

You looked up at your friend, feeling a little guilty for doing so. “My bad? But I really didn’t want to talk to that dude in a blue jacket.” You murmured, bringing your attention back to the purple panda.

Miko scrunched her nose, letting out a loud sigh. “Why are you always rejecting all the sweet boys? He even picked up your phone for you, come on.” She said, before startling you again with a sudden squeak. “BUUUUT! Y/N-” She started, covering her mouth to prevent the next invasion of uncontrollable giggles from escaping, jumping up and down in her spot and causing her black soft locks to slide on her forehead. “ That hottie with those big eyes. Oh my god Y/N. I actually talked to him just now, and guess what he told me.” She paused for a brief moment, only to let out another squeak. “His favorite game is also Super Mario! And he asked me if I wanted to play it with him today, oh my god, Y/N.” Miko was breathing so quickly, that as you looked up at her once again, you started to become honestly worried if soon she would start to hyperventilate.

“And I assume you said yes?” You asked, but you already knew the answer anyway.

“Of course! I mean, did you see him? A model!” She answered.

“So you plan on leaving me all alone here?” You asked. “Are his friends still here?” You added, carefully peeking from behind the plushie automat you were still ducked down by.

Your eyes widened in terror as you sneaked a look and spotted the group walking down the aisle.

“I won’t leave you! But just let me have this one? You know how much I would love to get a proper date!” She replied, throwing longing looks in the direction of the boys. “And Y/N, if that blue hottie comes to talk to you, please be nice.” She added quickly.

“Miko, do you perhaps know something that I don’t know?”

“What? Noooooo, not at all, what makes you think that?”

You let out a small sigh, rolling your eyes at your friend. “Whatever.”

You brought your attention back to the display with all the plushies inside, finally inserting the coin into the automat and starting to try to fish out the purple panda bear.

You were still sensing a presence next to you, so thinking it was just Miko who hasn’t left yet, unbothered and completely oblivious, you continued to give all your concentration to the little plush bear you already almost had clasped.

Just as the bear was nearing to fall into the designed hole and right into your hands, the metal claws let it go in a trice, in effect the bear bouncing back, away from the hole.

Unbelievable.

A soft snicker reached your ear, so without even caring to turn your head you just rolled your eyes again. “Very funny Miko, you know that it usually never works at the first try very well yourself.” You said, taking out another one hundred yen coin to insert and try again.

“Sometimes it does.” Said a velvet like voice.

You immediately snapped your head to the left, your eyes widening one more time as you realized that it wasn’t Miko standing next to you, but the boy in a blue jacket.

You involuntarily squinted your eyes at him, looking up. “You again.”

He seemed to be completely immune to you not being the nicest, instead jumping straight into any normal conversation you would usually have with a friend.

Out of all people, and out of all days, why you and why today?

Guess you would never know.

“Your name is Y/N, right?” The boy asked. “Your friend with the black hair told me when we were still outside.” He continued, his melodic voice filling the space between the two of you, for some unexplainable reason making you kind of distracted and causing you to drop the purple panda once again, failing at the second attempt to win it.

You sent the boy a heavy glare. “And your name is...?”

“I’m Baekhyun.” He replied with a sweet smile.

You decided to ignore him, taking the already third coin out of your wallet and inserting it again.

“What are you about to get?” Came yet another soft question.

“The purple panda.” You replied briefly.

Baekhyun’s eyes left your figure for a transient while, to fall on the plushies inside the automat. “Well, guess what I would be about to get?” He said.

“On my nerves.” You murmured quietly, but loudly enough for him to hear.

You weren’t looking at him anymore so you obviously couldn’t have noticed it, but even when he received nothing but snarky replies from you, the boy was all smiles with little dazzles dancing in his brown eyes. “I actually hoped that I would get on your calendar.” He said, giving you a winsome smile as soon as you graced him with your attention again. “On a weekend when you’d be free... Or after school...” The cheekiness audible in his soft voice just seconds ago wasn’t as strong as it was anymore as he said these words.

In the result to his question, you scrunched your nose, looking up at him. “You don’t even know me. You’ve literally seen me one single time.” You said.

The moment you said that, you observed as the cheeky look fell back on his soft features. “Dante wrote forty two chapters of a whole opera for Beatrice after he saw her one time on the street, so I think I would be reasonably justified to ask you out like that.” He smiled at you in the most candy smile anyone could probably ever master.

What in the world?

“You know Dante? Are you into literature?” You asked, a little flabbergasted and surprised, knowing that most of the boys your age weren’t particularly interested in the art of similar old literary works.

That was definitely new.

“I like art in general.” Baekhyun said.

“So, how do you feel about art?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Baekhyun’s eyes seemed to have a whole million of sparkles dancing in them as he replied. “Well, I think you are really cool to talk to.”

Wait-

“What the freak man.” Was the only thing which you managed to say after you connected the dots of what he was really referring to.

This boy surely was having the time of his life right now.

You brought your attention back to the plushies, trying to suppress a muffled quiet scream which threatened to leave your lips because, even at the third try, the purple panda was dropped back into the soft pile of other plushies as if totally mocking you and your efforts to win it.

You aggressively grabbed the ziplock of your wallet, practically snatching a new one hundred yen coin and slamming it into the automat, determined to win it this time.

In that moment, it was a serious matter of life and death for you, and being completely focused on that one thing before you, you were also still completely oblivious to your surroundings.

If only you knew how your small act of chagrin to the automat and throwing the coin inside in a total state of fury made Baekhyun’s heart melt even more for you, thoughts of how cute you were flowing through his mind.

“How many more times are you going to try this?” He asked.

“You know, I’m actually really good at this. Today just doesn’t seem to be my best day.” You replied, without giving him one look.

The claws clasped around the purple panda once again, lifting it up and sliding slowly to the direction of the hole, through which you really hoped it would finally fall out this time.

“I already own a whole room of plushies and dolls I won in the arcade, so this should be no sweat.” You added.

“Well that’s phat.” Baekhyun said, his voice always sounding like a smooth velvet which, for some reason was becoming always more difficult to ignore for you.

“I know.” You said. “But I’m totally buggin’ right now.”

You watched the purple panda hanging just above the destined hole, being completely sure that you would finally win. You threw a content look at Baekhyun next to you, resting your elbows on the automat. “It’s already falling, you see? I’m da bomb. All that and a bag of chips-” You interrupted mid sentence, when to your downright disbelief the panda was let loose into the hole, only to somehow bounce out of it right back into the pile of other plushies, leaving you at the fourth failed attempt of winning. “You sick piece of-” You said through your clenched teeth, clutching your wallet in your hand and trying to stay calm.

You threw a murderous look at the automat, then glanced back at the wallet held in your hand before opening it again and taking out the fifth coin, throwing it into the automat without thinking twice.

You quickly guided the claws to grab the purple panda, but then again, as if to totally make fun of you, it was let dropped back into the pile. “Son of a SCONE.” You said, very lightly hitting your small fist on the glass.

You were brought back to reality by the same velvet voice which was distracting you just moments ago. “Y/N.”

“What.”

“You haven’t given me an answer yet.” Baekhyun said softly. “Will you go on a date with me?”

“No.” You replied.

“You are being so mean today.”

“I’m mean everyday.” You added, standing up from the position you were in this whole time. “You have a really unusual way of approaching, you know?”

“Well, everyone has their own ways. And everyone has their own idea of perfection.” Baekhyun said, looking right into your eyes. “Mine just happens to be you.”

You shot him a tired look. “What the freak.” You said. “Listen, um-”

“Do you know what bees make?” He suddenly interrupted you with this random question.

Without even thinking too much, you simply replied. “Honey?”

You watched as his eyes lit up again. “Yes, dear?”

You were left there completely done with the world as it was and speechless, just standing before him and looking at his smiling, glowing face, visibly happy with his own lines.

Why wouldn’t he just give up?

You didn’t even know anymore what to say to him, seeing that apparently he had a comeback line ready for each and every of your attempts to shove him away.

“You are impossible.” You said.

You observed as Baekhyun’s eyes quickly wandered to the plushie automat and as he bit his lip, another idea visibly coming to his mind. “Will you please say yes if I win that purple panda for you?” He asked, his brown eyes full of glinting hope.

“I would like to see you try. If I couldn’t win this, you won’t be able to either.” You replied.

“If you’re so sure about it, then just agree?” He said, a little smile still visible on his lips.

You crossed your arms on your chest, him instantly mirroring your gesture. “Fine. And if you fail, you will stop asking me out.” You said. “Three attempts.” You held up three fingers.

“Fine.” He said, holding up a shining one hundred yen coin before putting it into the automat.

He ducked down in the spot in which you were previously, laying his left arm on the free surface and lazily resting his chin on it, his right hand managing the little controller on the automat, effortlessly.

In complete and utter terror, you watched as the purple panda bear successfully fell into the hole right away, soon swiftly falling out of the automat straight into Baekhyun’s hands.

You couldn’t help it but let out a gasp of shock.

“No.” You whispered shaking your head, not believing that he just got it at the first try, because how probable could it even be?

“Yes.” Baekhyun held up the purple panda, flashing you the brightest, happiest smile you have seen on him that day. “I told you, sometimes it does work at the first try.”

You just stood there, not able to say a word, still looking at him in a complete disbelief.

Again, how probable could it be?

“I, um-” You really tried to say a full normal sentence, but it seemed like even the language decided to sabotage you today.

Before Baekhyun said anything else, he gently placed the panda in your hands, in the result his fingers softly brushing yours, may it be on purpose or just accidentally. “Please just say yes?”

As much as you despised this whole thing, you were a girl of your word, and you made a deal.

Which you obviously lost, now that you were holding the purple panda bear in your hands.

Even so, looking at Baekhyun’s dazzling brown eyes, you still wanted to give him the benefit of doubt, even though you were perfectly aware that it was pointless at this stage.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he quickly interrupted you before you could say even one word. “You won’t regret it.” He added, a little faint plea visible in his eyes as they looked at you.

You felt one corner of your mouth slightly lifting in a half smile. “What if I will?” You asked, meeting his chocolate gaze.

“You won’t.” He quickly said. “Just give me a chance to win you over.”

He asked you for a chance, but deep down you started to feel that he already was winning you over with his impossible sweetness and persistence.

But that was something which he didn’t need to know right now, was it?

You held the panda plushie closer to yourself, burying your face in it for a brief moment to hide the bubblegum blush which was shamelessly spreading on your dewy cheeks totally against your own will.

“I like onigiri with umeboshi filling.” You said. “And dark mocha.”

A honey-dripping smile fell on Baekhyun’s lips as his chocolate eyes traveled across every feature on your face. “What an unusual pair.” He said, the smile never leaving his lips and eyes.

“If you want to date me, you need to be prepared for weird combos like that.” You said, facing away as you felt the blush becoming stronger, your entire cold barrier finally giving in into the charm of his smile.

“I’m thrilled to know more.” He grinned winsomely.

And who would think that when you left the game arcade, you would have gotten your plushie and a cute boy together with it?

Undisputedly not you.

But sometimes, sometimes the universe put things on your way, things which you would least expect to cherish the most.

Author’s End Note: Thank you for reading! Remember to REBLOG if you liked it! Also, I tried to build in some classic ‘90s phrases into dialogues, so let me know if I did well or not!! 💖 Maybe it won’t be the end of the ‘90s AU. 💜

139 notes · View notes

reaperlight · 4 years

Note

Do you have any lawryght headcanons?

@greenpactbosmer Thanks for the ask!

Headcanons... ooh boy, well...

(Oh and I saw you had another ask there too but I think I may have misunderstood the prompt/what was being asked? In any case I should probablt edit the paragraphs of brain vomit that came out of that but until then here's more paragraphs of brain vomit, uh... sorry 😔)

Anyway...

Headcanons for lawryght can vary greatly from fic verse to fic verse but let's see curtent HC generally...

These three getting together in a canon-like universe...

The RyukxLight will either be established relationship or at the very least Ryuk is more helpful to Light and his plans than in canon to the point Light feels secure enough in his position so he can give L a chance and not feel like he has to kill him immediately so a relationship could actually develop between Light and L beyond "oh no, he's hot... I still have to kill him." (Also expect Light to be even more arrogant and insufferable because he thinks he's immortal and has the power of deathgod and anime on his side.)

Ryuk and Light getting together: And then they were roommates (oh my they were roommates) and there was only one bed--Shinigami don't really need to sleep but Light doesn't know that and the bed is comfy so Ryuk doesn't fell the need to tell him.

They are both extremely bored. Ryuk is absolutely fascinated with this human--he may not be on Light's side (or so he claims) but the entertainment value is beyond his wildest dreams. He is smitten, even if he doesn't admit it. If Light is curious about something hell try at least once... Or Light may be trying to get free Shinigami eyes out of him and they catch feelings.

L enters the picture... Ryuk doesn't mind sharing 1. Hes immortal and bored and... two interesting humans! This is so cool! 2. Shinigami don't have the same ideas about monogamy. 3. Headcanons about Ryuk vary depending on if rule 36 valid up to this point in the ficverse. (I.e. Chad!Ryuk vs. Virgin!Ryuk)

L and Ryuk--L is very disturbed to learn that his case actually has a supernatural component and is more leery of Ryuk than of Light at first. This lasts for all of the moment it takes to remember that Light is Kira and Ryuk is afraid of tennis balls.

After 5 minutes of soul searching, L can admit to himself he has a thing for monsters--both internal and external.

Assuming they are all alive and this takes place in early canon this shippable version of L is probably more interested in having fun then bringing Kira to justice. Either that or he has become disillusioned with the status quo or hurt and and wants revenge to the point that he's willing to entertain Light's way of doing things.

If its post series, maybe Ryuk is bored so goes looking for Light in Mu and ends up pulling both Light and L out of Mu because their souls are intertwined and once restored as humans or Shinigami or something shippable in the afterlife then it's just learning to rely on each other as they forge a new arrangement in the Shinigami realm.

Top/bottom it's not assigned seating Regardless of bedroom positions or what arrangement they have out of the bedroom Light is the dom/one in charge of this arrangement in bed... but subs L and Ryuk unionize and gang up on him. Light is a dom in bed but not always a top. L as a sub but not always bottom. Ryuk as a service top or power bottom. Ryuk doesn't really feel pain like humans do and will go with whatever he and his partners find interesting.

Contrary to rumor Light and L aren't always fighting over who gets to top. Fighting is for chess matches, clashes of ideology, and the last chocolate eclaire--not the bedroom. Consent, safe words, and mutual respect are all very important.

(The safe word is vegetables)

Light is very dom. In every relationship before or since. Except there's Ryuk, looming over him. Making him feel kinda excited and confused and then theres that stupid sexy voice of his... But ryuk is the exception. (But he might let L fuck him if he asks nicely and submits to Kira's reign.)

When they sleep together Ryuk likes to keep them both wrapped in his wings. He likes being the little spoon sometimes though...

L gets Ryuk addicted to apple desserts.

Light frequently ends up cleaning up after the other two. Ryuk helps when he remembers but typically L is a brat.

Light: How can you stand to live like this?

Ryuk: I was formed in a dustbowl.

Light: Yes, it shows.

L [throwing candy wrappers on the ground]: Why are you doing that, that's what Watari is for?

Others who might potentially join the polycule under the right set of circumstances: B, Mikami, Aiber, Matsuda...

Some very noncanon AU ideas...

Superhero aus (current wips)

Winning and ruling the world(s) au (current wips)

Light gets in trouble (of either a mundane or supernatural variety) and Ryuk goes to L to ask for his help because he's the only human he can think of who would be clever enough to help Light and because of supernatural restrictions Ryuk can't save Light by himself. L is annoyed to have his fun ruined by having it confirmed that Light is Kira in this way, pissed that Light could get himself into a situation like this, and also pissed at himself that Ryuk doesn't even need to threaten him to want to risk everything to save him. After they save Light, L decides there's no point in continuing the kira case because it no longer interests him. He returns INTERPOLs money and after Light recovers from his ordeal the three go on vacation looking for something interesting but less hazardous than their previous ordeal. L becomes fascinated with the supernatural and wants to go ghost and cryptid hunting, seeking out ancient mysteries and Ryuk has plenty of leads in that. Light is still more interested in becoming god of the new world but "fine, if you guys insist..." (he doesn't want to admit he's having fun too). They drive around in L's pink crepe van huntjng ghosts, solving mysteries. Light occasionally writes the names of murderous jerks and people who are assholes to L thst they meet along the way while Ryuk laughs and L scowls in a mildly disapproving way but never really discourages him.

Au inverting the dynamics so its established relationship of lawlight first and then Ryuk joins the polycule: AU where Light and L are the same age and are childhood friends and when Light finds the Death Note they become Kira together. Ryuk is fascinated by them both and slowburn they realize their feelings for each other.

Or... Human!Ryuk and mundane college AU Ryuk is in a metal band and is probably studying art and helps rival law students Ligtt and L to chill... at least until Ryuk gets in trouble for drug possession and then Light and L compete to be his better defense counsel.

Monster AU werewolf or vampire au that's canon adjacent--Ryuk bites Light, Light goes on to monster better than Ryuk does then Light bites L, the monster hunter who falls for him...

7. Haunted house au

8. The quarantine au--Light is annoyed because now killing as Kira feels rather pointless. L is annoyed because this is boring. Ryuk is having a blast because they're playing with him a whole lot more. If L and Light doesn't just use the L screen, Ryuk is always in the background, having floating, juggling apples photobomb the zoom calls.

And suddenly Ryuk is important.

Ryuk runs errand for them because he has no danger of catching the plague. They play video games, watch movies, bitch at each other, and get into pointless arguments over stupid things.

Also L makes them custom masks modeled after Ryuk's fangs just because.

Other ideas:

Wammys house and lawryght

Option 1: Wammy's house tooth rotting fluff, adopting all the orphans

Option 2: Wammy's house evil, B was right. It's really just about being raised as a weapon. It's like the stormtrooper program for genius orphans that may not have actually been orphans before the institute took an interest in them.

Option 3: Wammy's house complicated. The institute really is trying to do better, is the best place for the kids and while not perfect its closest thing to home/family they have.

Lawryght and Morality

These 3 can be awful enablers of each other's worst qualities. Then again...

Light: Huh, Ryuk thinks we're going too far. Maybe we should rethink this.

L [already has the prisoner tied up and being forced to listen to polka music on repeat]: But where's the fun in that?

Finding a home together

With Kira and a Shinigami as his boyfriend L feels secure enough to do more normal things he's been denied all his life.

With Ryuks help, Light finds the names of all of L's major enemies and gets to writing in the Death Note.

Light: Be mad if you want. I'm not sorry.

L tries to be mad, and fails. He can't help but feel relieved that they're gone.

He might even entertain the thought of having a permanent address.

He still enjoys traveling though.

Also L gets a kitten

The cat loves chasing Ryuk's feathers.

The cat likes Light's lap the best because Light went out of his way not to look at the cat.

....

Ah, that was probably way too long. But thanks for letting me ramble! 😆

#death note #lawryght #detectivedeathgods #light yagami #ryuk #l lawliet #headcanons #headcanon #fanfic #fanfiction #comedy #crack fic #dn crack #crack treated seriously #lawlight #ryght #terraito #deathgods #death note au

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ardentmuse · 5 years

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Four Times Fred Weasley Proposed to You... And the One Time He Meant It (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Harry Potter - Fred Weasley x fem!Reader

Summary: The title says it all. Just read it ;)

Wordcount: 4.7k (I’m trash)

Warnings: fluff, sex, cursing - basically my holy trinity, and AU where Fred lives (which is the only universe I live in)

Masterlist

A/N: Toddle started daycare yesterday and I learned that I churn out about 1k worlds per hour if I don’t have a kid crawling on me. Today is also my wedding anniversary for fluff felt right. A request from anon!

The candles floating high under the vaulted ceiling are the only things that don’t shake with the uproar of cheers, especially from the seventh years, that accompany Dumbledore’s announcement of return of the Triwizard Tournament. Fred bumps elbows with his twin, whom he simply knows is already conspiring to rig this thing in their favor. Fame, glory, prize money – everything they need to set themselves up for success is being presented on a golden platter – or rather in a wooden goblet. But they don’t have the opportunity to conspire before the room falls hush at the gentle lowering of Dumbledore’s willowy arms.

“Please join me in welcoming the students of Beauxbaton Academy of Magic and their headmistress Madame Maxine,” Dumbledore’s voice bellows, but to Fred it is but a whisper. The doors to the Great Hall have already opened and towards the front of the group of impressively dressed students, their jackets pristinely fitted and their skirts flared in a way that hints so nicely at the shapely things that certainly reside beneath them. Fred’s baser brain, the part that, as a sixteen year old, gives power and life to many of his higher-level functions, completely takes over. His eyes roam the group, landing on a stunning creature, third from the left whose straightened back, bright smile, and flushed face from the chill of the castle night are enough to make his mouth grow dry and his palms sweat with anticipation.

But then you begin your dance – if it could even be called a dance. You skip forward like an elegant ballerina, your neck tall and your chest out the way a swan might look upon the lesser creatures within its pond, elegant but superior. And Fred minds not one bit being the scum that lines your lakeside domain. With light steps you descend upon the Great Hall, down the path on which he sits. And as you grow closer, you open your hands, releasing blue mist and butterflies upon the crowd, like a siren singing a song to lure in the ships at sea.

A few more pranced steps and you are standing right beside him. He watches with baited breath as your skirts flow and twist. You lean forward with special flourish, flicking your wrists and humming in unison with your cohort. Your fingers lightly brush against Fred’s cheek as he ebbs closer in rapture.

“Marry me,” he whispers, which draws your eyes away from the front of the hall to meet the man sitting right beside you. A simple turn of his head has his lips gently brushing against your fingertips and the piercing of his cinnamon eyes catches your breath in your chest. You miss your next step, so beguiled by this handsome man before you, broad and freckled and just the teeniest bit unobtainable in the way that confidence seems to radiate off him.

You bite your lips as you quickly make your leave, returning to the perfectly choreographed dance that seems to have enchanted more than just the eldest Weasley twin.

George’s elbow lands squarely in the soft space below Fred’s ribs.

“Oi, Freddie, what the hell was that?” George asks as the room rises in applause for their new guests.

George searches Fred’s face for answers. Across from him, both Angelina and Hermione seem to be brooding in equal measure. Ron is busy picking his jaw off the floor. But for Fred, all he could do is search the room for the figure whose shape is now buried deep in his mind and whose soft fingertips he can still feel upon his lips.

He finds you taking your seat at the Ravenclaw table beside Roger Davies, who is all too eager to move his cloak and offer you water. Something primal rises in Fred, hot bile in his gut at the sight of Davies’ hand brushing against your wrist as you turn to speak with him. But as if feeling Fred’s presence, you flick up your gaze to lock with his and almost immediate you look away. But Fred is satisfied if the way you are biting your lip and hiding so delicately behind your hat is any indication that you might be feeling the exact same electric charge between you that he is.

“I don’t know, George. I really don’t know.”

II.

The spring sun warms the courtyard as the visiting students say their goodbyes to Hogwarts and the witches and wizards that call it home. Fred and George sit on the stone wall of the archway, overlooking the chaos of tearful hugs and exchanged promises to write, respectful handshakes and gossipy giggles.

“So much emotion for something so simple as a goodbye,” George says as he pulls at the leaves of the bush just starting to bud beside him, “Does everyone forget we have magic? Owls, portkeys, floo networks, and the works? It’s not goodbye forever, you know?”

Fred’s eyes scan the courtyard until he finds the top of your head standing in a circle of Beauxbaton students who are wishing farewell to their Hufflepuff friends, offering elongated hugs and whispered words of comfort to those mourning the loss of Diggory.

You pull away from a puffy-eyed girl, handing her a notecard, which Fred assumes has your address on it, and turn your eyes up on catch him staring at you. You blush – at least he thinks you do at this distance – and turn your attention back to the young Gryffindor who has just tapped you on the shoulder. Fred closes his eyes.

“Well, George, sometimes even a goodbye for now can be more than you’re willing to accept.”

George looks to see Fred’s eyes still closed, his head lulled to the side in a look that can only be described as painful longing.

“Speaking in general or personal there, dear brother? A certain French girl I caught you snogging have anything to do with—“

“George,” you say, interrupting their hushed conversation. George smiles almost too wickedly at your appearance. “And Fred,” you say, turning your eyes to the boy who has consumed so many of your thoughts these past few months.

At hearing your voice, Fred’s head pops up from its angst-filled recline against the stone castle wall. The wide saucers take you in like a man dying of thirst.

You clear your throat and move your head to take in both twins. “I just want to say that I will miss you and your laughter. You have both made my time here at Hogwarts a pleasant one.” Your smile seems forced, but Fred cannot tell why.

“And it has been a pleasure getting to know you as well, my dearest mademoiselle,” George says in his best accent, swallowing the first “e” the way you taught him to do so precisely. “Quite the pleasure for one of us, I might say.”

Fred turns near crimson at his brother’s coaxing and your own eyes find rest starring down at your lap.

“Well, yes,” you stammer, knowing full well this was George’s intention but not being skilled enough to overcome its impact, “For me, too.”

You feel a hand come under your chin, and your eyes come up to meet the very bright, but very pleased face of Fred Weasley.

“You are a pleasure,” he says for just your ears, his thumb running across your chin as your face grows hot at his attentions.

“You know, I’m not sure I want to go home,” you admit, looking up at the cute boy before you from under your lashes. His Adam’s Apple bobs at your minor seduction. “I have quite come to like your country.”

“I could marry you,” he says as his hand finds the curve of your neck, “Then they couldn’t take you away. I hear Ministry visas are quite a valuable commodity these days.”

You laugh, deep and hearty, the kind of laugh you have come to know so often as your friendship has blossomed with the twins.

You hand a card to Fred, not a tiny index card like the kind he watch you hand your other friends, but a proper greeting card, with a beautiful calligraphed, “My Fred,” on the envelope.

“Maybe you can write me sometime, if you want? I’d love to know how the business comes along.”

Fred’s fingers trace the curves and bends of the ‘my’ so thoughtfully placed before his name.

When Fred says nothing, his eyes so drawn to the paper, George pipes up with an, “Of course, love. We’ll be sure to.”

“Okay,” you whisper, but Fred’s attention is still elsewhere. With a swallow, you say, “Bye, then,” and with a tiny wave, returned by George alone, you turn on your heels and head for your carriage.

George stares down at his brother, whose fingers have already gone to rip at the letter, to see its contents and pray that its words align with the flutter he feels in his chest right now.

Opening the envelope releases a frill of blue dust and butterflies, scented like your shampoo, which he is ashamed to say he knows now. An index card with an address, just like the ones you gave the others sits inside, along with a note, long and eloquent about how you’ve enjoyed the time you’ve shared together, the laughter and the kisses, too, but it is the last two lines that gets him right in his throat, his heart beating faster than he can ever remember it doing before.

“You are the sweetest man I’ve ever known, Fred Weasley, and I pray one day when I know love, it will be with someone who makes me smile, makes me think, and makes me feel as beautiful as you have in these few short months. Who knows, maybe that someone will even be you.”

Finally, Fred hears George screaming his name, the tone of which makes it clear to him this was not the first yell.

“What!” Fred finally screams back, his hands gripping tightly on the parchment he holds.

“You didn’t even say bye to her, mate.”

Fred whips around to see a line of soft blue suits taking the stairs into their Abraxan-drawn carriages, the boys of the school offering softly cupped hands to the girls as they ascend. Fred jumps the stone wall into the courtyard, not caring for the height of the fall and sprints through the crowds, pushing a few first year students in the process until his hand grabs yours just as you take your first steps away from Hogwarts.

You spin around at the tug. When Fred sees your face, slightly obscured by your hat, his chest hurts at the sight of the tear lines that clearly flow down your cheeks.

He pulls you to him quickly, catching you in his arms as you partially tumble down the stairs towards him. He kisses you before you can even recover, to the hoots and hollers of some of the younger students, which earns them the scolding of a surprisingly softhearted McGonagall.

Fred’s lips are all pressure, as though movement might take you further away from him. He is locked in the moment, securing you to him and into his memory for as long as he may have you.

When he finally pulls away, he runs his hands along the sides of your face and your forehead, like memorizing every shape and detail.

“Goodbye, my Fred,” you say to him, you eyes still saddened, still hurt but the parting, but all the more healed for the confirmation that this is hurting Fred too.

“Goodbye for now, my princess.”

And so you walk away, your hands lingering together as Fred does his best to help you up the stairs and into your carriage, his precious swan princess preparing for her journey home.

A few minutes later, Fred returns to his brother, who still sits on the stone but is now holding the envelope and letter that Fred discarded in his pursuit of you. George offers a slow clap of appreciation at Fred’s grand gesture.

“Georgie, how much money do you think we have for the summer? Enough to restock and still have extra?”

“Why are you asking?” George hands the precious parchment over to Fred for safe keeping.

Fred just stares down into his hands, at your words and your script and the remains of your magic and your scent.

“I think I have to go to France.”

III.

“You keep cooking like this and I’ll have to make a kept woman out of you, you know,” Fred teases as he grabs yet another of the Christmas cookies you have just pulled from the cooling racks. You swat his hand away but not quickly enough to stop him from adding another handful to the collection already lining his plate and pockets. “Trying to impress my mother with baked goods is a very good idea but completely unnecessary. She’s going to love you. She already loves you for how happy you make me.”

“Are you sure?” you ask as you continue to turn over the cookies, packing the ones with the best looking bottoms into festive tin to take with you to Ottery St. Catchpole.

Fred’s hand grabs as your wrist as you nervously rearrange the cookies ones more, “I’m absolutely certain.”

A few moments pass as Fred hums happily, crunching down one cookie after another before you speak up once more. “A kept woman, ye? I hope I might be more to you someday than just someone to fulfill your desires.”

Fred’s mouth curls into a Cheshire grin as drops his plate once more against the countertop. “And what’s so wrong with fulfilling my desires? Hmmm?”

You can’t help but smile too as you toss your oven mitts aside.

“Nothing,” you hum absentmindedly, leaning into Fred’s game. “Other than that I have desires of my own.”

Fred creeps around the counter, taking in your form as the aprons strings hug tightly at your waist. In one deft motion, Fred has you pinned so fiercely against the counter you worry he might actually take a bit of you instead of the desserts you have spent all morning making.

“Well,” he whispers into the soft of your ears, sending shivers down your spin, “Make me a kept man and we can live a life filled with unending pleasures.” And with the purr of the last word, he dives down to taste the salted hollow of your neck.

“Two kept people is just a marriage,” you manage to get out before the sweet suction upon you pulse makes you lose your breath and, with it, your composure.

“Then married we shall be.” His lips tickle against your collarbone before making the ascent back up your neck towards your chin. “Married, happy, fat off cookies,” he says between kisses. “And drunk off desire,” he whispers, leaving a final, long, bruising kiss upon your lips.

You are pulled from your daze by the call of George’s voice in the shop below the apartment, telling you his mother would be quite disappointed if you found yourself running late for Christmas dinner because you were too busy making her grandbabies.

As he pulls away, Fred runs a fingertip, slow, across your bottom lip, feeling the swell his kisses put there.

“I’m keeping you,” he says to your lips before meeting your eyes. For a moment, his look is deep with longing, but quickly he smiles and the mask of play returns to his bright features as he snatches the packaged cookies off the counter and pulls you out of the room to meet up with his twin.

IV.

“That’s it, love,” Fred breathes into your hair as you tighten the grip of your thighs around his hips. The sweat from his brow rolls down your neck sending shivers across your already prickled skin. Fred’s arms grip at your hips, desperate and needy. You can’t help but admire the taut muscles of his shoulders, round and firm in exertion. Even now, long after all the quidditch training and regular exercise, the lines of him are still subtle perfection.

A bite at your ear pulls your eyes away. And the rocking of his firm length deep inside you pulls your mind away, too.

On instinct, you roll your hips to meet his needy thrusts, finding a rhythm so right that you each let out a satisfied groan. You grip tight into the shoulders you love so much, digging your chin into his neck as you work yourself against him, pulling your pleasure from him as much as he is from you.

“Merlin,” Fred breathes as he seizes your chin so he may look in your eyes. He pins your hips once more with his rough hand, pounding into you long and slow. “You’re perfect,” he says before kissing you deeply, the action pressing your entire personage further into the mattress, all parts of him consuming you wholly.

As his hand moves from your hipbone to brush against your sex, you feel the tightening that Fred so easily can pull from you, the sweet anticipation of a cascade of relief that marks your lovemaking as something necessary. His fingers deftly work you in time with his hips and soon you are falling off that cliff with only his strong arms to catch you.

Fred groans at the feel of your orgasm, finding his own in the sweet music your body plays for him. And as he releases himself in your depths, your body quakes once more with the pleasurable feel of it.

Exhausted and spent, Fred lays himself upon you, chest to chest, the weight of him a welcome reminder of the real world to which your brain has just returned.

“I can’t wait to make you my wife,” Fred says into the darkness of your bedroom.

You laugh – or at least as much as you can with his weight bearing down upon your chest. You take in his nose now resting against your shoulder, the soft freckles decorating the bridge, the pink of the creases now coated in a pleasant sheen of sweat. He pops up his eyes to meet yours in unspoken question.

“The feeling’s mutual,” you smile. You run your hands through his hair, hoping to ease the worry you feel from him.

Fred rolls off of you to lie on his side, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“You also can’t wait to make me your wife?”

You turn to see Fred lounging casually upon the mattress, his nudity fully on display as he shows off his body for you with a flourish.

“Can you not resist these womanly curves?” He almost can’t keep the smile off his face.

You lunge towards him, but he’s quicker. He hops off the bed and runs down the hallway before you can even extract yourself from the covers. The last thing you see is that cute, firm butt of his round the corner towards the kitchen.

“Shall your wife bring you tea?” He calls in a mocking high-pitched voice from the depths of your home. You toss a pillow at the door, and as it plops, Fred laughs.

And just as you feel the glow of your orgasm begin to subside, Fred walks through the door with two steaming cups. He sets them down on the bedside table before kneeling before you. Only then do you notice the silliness is gone from his face, replaced with the hint of nerves and raw emotion you saw only a hint of in your afterglow.

“I’m not joking, you know,” he says as he grabs at your knuckles, “I’d like to marry you someday, make this beautiful, precious thing we have permanent, assuming you want that too.”

And with a look into those beautiful brown orbs of his, you nod.

You cling tightly to Fred’s back as his broom zooms between the snowy peaks of the Pyrenees. The castle in which you spent your formative years seems but a speck off in the distance as you direct Fred along a saddle of the range and towards the cliff face just beyond.

“There,” you point towards the gap in the trees on the north face. The rush of the wind as Fred speeds downward makes it hard to hear the beautiful crash of water you associate so much with this place. But as the trees thin, you see it – the gorgeous waterfall and crisp blue-green pools that catch its spray.

Fred slows down his flying, weaving expertly through the forest until you come to rest upon the boulders that face the torrent of water.

“This is it. This is where us Beauxbaton girls came for peaceful retreats. Made quite a few friends among the wood nymphs, too.”

Fred turns to you, confused. “You find this relaxing?” He screams over the loud crash of water.

 “Trust me?” You ask as you take his hand and lead him down the winding paths deeper into the forest. He grips your fingers tightly as his boots dig into the mud you seem to navigate with an elegance that reminds him so much of how you floated into the Great Hall of Hogwarts all those years ago.

When you finally let go of his hand, you are in a clearing covered in a canopy of trees. Steam fills the space as three pools, one flowing into the next, radiate heat outward. The water is an inviting shade of aquamarine and the stones underneath seem to glisten silver, the cleavage of them lined with some rare elements that Fred can only assume are as precious as the creature standing beside him. Your face glows with memory, like a child on Christmas filled with the possibilities of unopened boxes and mysterious smells from the oven.

“I told you it’s beautiful,” you say, turning to the man you love, the man you are so excited to show the parts of your life he had been absent from so that he can become one with all of you. What you see when you find him again makes it clear he wants the same thing.

Fred is bent on one knee, his soft woolen jacket open revealing a pocket you hadn’t seen, and in his hands sits a beautiful ring box holding a delicate band and a single, shining diamond, even brighter for the way the blues of your hot springs cast off of it.

“You did,” he says, his voice deeper than you are used to, like a lump somehow is already forming in his throat. But that isn’t too hard to believe, as tears are prickling at your eyes, ready to roll over before he has even spoken. The sight of this man, his handsome chiseled face and his soft, kind eyes looking so weak, so wrought with emotion, and all for you, is enough to send you into hysterics. He is perfect – your silly, brave, industrious, kind, honest, perfect Fred. And here he is, telling you without words that you are perfect, too.

“Do you remember my first words to you?” He asks with a lift of the left corner of his lips.

“Marry me,” you whisper with a hiccup, now full-blown crying at the memory of how his lips somehow felt so right against your fingers, even though you didn’t even know his name.

“Marry me,” he breathes more to himself than you, chuckling at his own teenage silliness. He shakes his head and looks at the ground. But upon catching the glow of the ring, his eyes return to your face. “I’d like an answer now,” he says. His hand somehow instinctively finds your fingertips, the source of all the kinetic energy between you, the spark that opened the doors to a lifetime of happiness.

You try your best to find your breath between your tears. “Yes,” you say, though you are unsure if you actually made any sound given the heaving of your chest. “Yes.”

Fred hops into the air, his lips finding yours and his arms engulfing your body in his embrace. He showers you with kisses, your tears mingling together, no different from the moisture of the steam coating your skin.

“I love you so much,” you manage to say as you smile against his mouth.

“I love you—fuck,” Fred pulls himself from you and drops to the ground. The ring box is discarded several feet from you, dropped quickly in Fred’s desire to shower you in affection. The ring still sits inside, pretty and intact but dusted with dirt. Fred frantically wipes the ring against his coat before grabbing at your hand.

“May I?” He asks. You nod enthusiastically, enjoying the feel of the cold metal running over your knuckles, chilling your heated skin.

As Fred stares in awe at the new jewel that gilds your hand, you slowly back away from him. With a careful flick of the buttons, you drop your coat to the ground. Fred’s gaze moves to your neck where your hands now continue their slow turn and flick, opening the buttons of your blouse in the most enticing strip tease he could imagine.

“What are you doing, woman?” He whispers, though he takes no steps to approach your still retreating form, now just inches from the edge of the water.

“What do you think I was planning for us to do here?” You ask him. Your hands slide down the curves of your now-exposed sides, bunching the fabric of your hips. “It’s a hot spring.” You wiggle your hips just a little as you push the fabric over your rump and down your thighs. “What do you think we Beauxbaton girls did here? Painted our nails and doodled in our notebooks?” As you lift your ankles, leaving yourself completely bare – bare expect for the gorgeous ring your fiancé just placed upon your hand – you stride with slow, confident steps towards him, a swan returned to her pond, a siren seducing her sailor.

“Do not make me picture you and a handful of beautiful French girls bathing here naked together. My heart can’t take it.”

You now find yourself inches away from your fiancé, his eyes trying their hardest to stay trained on your face but failing miserably with each breath that lifts your chest just a little closer to his face.

“Your heart can take plenty of things,” you moan into his ear, your entire body just an inch from touching his. “It’s taken me, hasn’t it?”

And just as his hands comes to ghost the curve of your lower back, you flee him, jumping into the largest of the pools with a satisfying splash.

As you come up and turn to him with your hair slicked back out of your face, Fred is already half naked, his clothing thrown haphazardly across the clearing and his belt buckle proving much more difficult than he ever imagined it would.

“Damn it, Princess,” he says with a huff and he yanks at his jeans, “You have no idea what’s in store for you.” He flicks his eyes to you as he pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing the beautiful expanse of strong stomach and chest that somehow never fail to take your breath away. His eyes glint with a hint of evil and a heap of lust and you are almost ashamed at how quickly your body responds to it, his gaze heating your whole self even more than the springs already have.

“I think I know,” you say as Fred lowers himself into the waters.

He paddles over to you and wraps your nude form in his arms. His lips find your hands and delicately play with them, his fingers running over the smooth metal as his lips move up to your wrist. You drop your head back against the smooth rocks and allow this man you love, this man who has enchanted you for the first connection, to love your body in turn.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech,

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #hp #hp imagine #weasley twins #harry potter imagines #hp imagines #reader insert #x reader

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wastelander997 · 3 years

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Ideas for a Star Fox movie (long post)

Long post ahead but, like the title says, here's some of my personal ideas for a Star Fox movie

-We start the movie with Andross working in his laboratory at Cornaria, soon realizing he's... not all there. We see him mess around with globe, crushing it a bit in his hands. He wants the world, no, the galaxy to pay for something but we don't know what yet (his wife died due to the cornarian government being moronic and he wants to take it out on everyone and everything, but that's revealed much later)

- We cut to Fox as a kid. It's nice and peaceful at first, with James playing with his son in their backyard while Peppy and Pigma are there. Fox's mom goes to the car to go to the store, but Fox forgot to give his mom a bracelet he made for her. He runs up to give it to her before she can leave... and the car blows the fuck up, killing Fox's mom instantly and probably traumatizing Fox for life. At this point, Andross makes his move, shooting up his lab with a laser pistol and trying to make his escape. Andross realizes the car bomb meant for James killed Fox's mom instead. James tries to take Andross out, but Andross manages to escape by shooting at James, managing to scrape his face and blinding him in one eye. Andross escapes while James comforts his son, Peppy and Pigma not exactly sure what to make of this scenario.

- Cut to years later, Fox is joining the cornarian academy in his father's footsteps, and sees his dad and his crew off on their mission to stop a corrupted Andross. We follow James, Pigma and Peppy until they get to Andross, where Pigma betrays them. He shoots Peppy just enough that he can't control his ship and ends up floating away, watching helplessly and calling for backup as James McCloud is brutally murdered by Andross. Help arrives in time to save Peppy, but it's too late for James.

-Fox... takes the news pretty hard. After a long while of mourning and a heroes funeral for James, where Peppy tries his best to comfort Fox, Fox demands that the government do something about Andross. Because its the government, though, they don't do anything because, to them, it's just one soldier. They're training a thousand more... or 999 more, as Fox gets kicked out when he attacks one of the government officials. Nothing too violent, just a good hard deck across the schnozz. This act catches the attention of Falco Lombardi and Slippy Toad.

- Falco and Slippy were both dropouts, Slippy because he wasn't the best flyer and a bit of a coward (even if he was a great mechanic) and Falco because he was too hot headed and headstrong, not following orders well, even if he was arguably the best pilot around.

- Fox, Falco, Slippy and Peppy end up journeying on their own for several years, establishing themselves as a mercenary service, until they find General Pepper (an old friend of Peppy's), who's ready to go to war with Andross. Just hearing Andross's name is enough to make Fox almost snap then and there, so he offers their services. Pepper's like "why should I except help from a bunch of drop outs?" But Peppy manages to convince Pepper by telling them about the team's accomplishments, and Fox's legacy.

- Pepper gives them the Great Fox, which is in pretty bad shape, and so is Rob 64. Star Fox wants a better ship, but Pepper says that this is the only ship he can trust Star Fox, as they're mercenaries for hire. Slippy is actually excited, just because of Rob, who he slowly rebuilds throughout the movie.

- This is where the crew finds the arwings, which are hidden in the cargo bay. The four look over the ships and realize they're excellently crafted for flight, maneuverability and combat. So, with a montage set to a remix of the Cornaria theme from Star Fox SNES, the four rebuild and revamp the arwings using supplies found around the Great Fox.

- Meanwhile, Star Wolf is offered work by Andross, which they accept cause it's good money. But Wolf and Leon don't know that Pigma betrayed James McCloud and Andross killed him, believing he died in a random fire fight (Wolf was James's rival before his demise, and holds a certain guilt that they never got a proper one on one duel. He and Leon are value loyalty above all else. )

- For the most part the movie is sort of a scavenger hunt, flying around and slowly uncovering Andross's plan, which is to use a satellite on Planet Venom to control everyone in the galaxy, and make them all his slaves, so no one can ever act irrationally again. No passion, no heart, anything. He essentially wants to make the galaxy full of emotionless robots.

-During the scavenger hunt portion, Star Fox proves their worth by helping Bill Grey (Fox's friend/roommate who actually graduated the academy) and the rest of the cornarian army defend Planet Katina from a massive attack by Andross's, and helps Katt Monroe (someone who wasn't part of the academy, but was friends with Falco and they meet outside curfew to just hang out) sneak through Planet Zoness when she says she has info on Andross's plan, which is how they both find out his plan and why he went insane and wants to destroy everything. (The wife story I mentioned WAY at the beginning of this)

- Fox puts on a content face and is normally the most level headed one in the crew. But when Andross contacts them before going to Venom, Fox (justifiably) loses his shit. The only other time he gets this mad (aside from the government fiasco) is their first encounter with Star Wolf on Planet Fichina earlier in the movie, where Star Fox actually loses because Fox gets filled with rage as Pigma taunts him, saying things like "Your father died squealing like a baby!". Fox loses his mind and tries to just fuckin obliterate Pigma, but he gets outsmarted and defeated by Star Wolf. The only reason Fox survives is because Falco and Peppy save him.

- The final battle begins on Planet Venom, with Star Fox, Bill, Kat, and a good chunk of the cornarian army doing a full frontal assault. It all goes smoothly, the Great Fox even helping out when things get really hairy, until they eventually reach where Andross plans to launch the satellite. They're ready to take it out, when Star Wolf attacks.

- When Wolf and Leon find out Pigma is a traitor and realized Andrew is obviously siding with Andross, they take matters into their own hands. During their final fight with the Star Fox crew, Leon and Wolf end up bailing on Andrew and Pigma, leading to those two getting killed by Slippy and Peppy respectively. Then Wolf challenges Fox to a one on one duel, the fight he never got with his father. Fox wins the duel, and Falco ends up destroying Andross's main satellite.

- They all begin to leave, but Fox hears his father tell him it's not over. As long as Andross is alive, he'll try again. So Fox does the only thing he can. He says he'll go it alone from here, going into Andross's base and letting the exit get sealed behind him.

-Andross, despite starting as a normal, if deranged, scientist, did an experiment to merge himself with his ship, giving him control with a thought. Unfortunately this proves to be harmful, over the movie he fuses with it, and that's how he becomes the giant monkey head and floating hands we know, which Fox sees as he flys in.

- Andross: "YOU WANT REVENGE, JUST AS I DO! THAT'S WHY YOU'RE HERE TO KILL ME!!!

Fox: "... I thought that was it. I really did... but no, Andross. I'm here to save the galaxy (goes into all range mode) killing you is just a nice bonus.

- Because the fights in a big circular arena, Andross tears the tiles off the wall and throws them at Fox, as a nod to his SNES days.

- During their fight, Fox and Andross talk about revenge, and how Andross let it turn him into a monster, while Fox just let it power his resolve all the more.

Fox: "and if there's one thing I can thank you for Andross... *he barrel rolls in front of Andross with fully charged up blasters* it's showing me what I will NEVER turn into." *and he blasts Andross on the face*

- Andross is a bitch though and pulls the self destruct technique, and it plays out like the ending to Star Fox 64, with Fox getting caught in the exploration, but seeing the ghost of his father and following it out. James goes on about how he and Fox's mom are so proud of him, and that he's become so strong. Fox sheds some manly tears here for good measure.

- Fox escapes and, again, it plays put like the ending to 64. Only a bit bigger, as EVERYONE was there to witness Fox save the entire galaxy. His crew, Pepper and his forces, Bill and Kat, even Star Wolf (all two members that remain) watch from the shadows with approval.

- The film would end with Pepper offering Fox a spot in the army, but Fox says they prefer to fly solo. Pepper, grateful for their services, gifts them the Great Fox and the Arwings regardless. The Star Fox team runs off, ending the film.

- There's a post credits scene. If you want, there could be two, one to set up a smash bros movie and this one, which I'd have in there just as a joke. Pepper goes back to his office to relax, only to realize Star Fox left the bill for their services. He opens it, practically has a heart attack, and faints.

So... there ya go. What do you guys think? Good? Bad? Would you watch it or burn it? Let me know, please.

Until next time, see ya'll later.

#super smash bros #smash bros #star fox #star fox 64 #movies #movie idea #nintendo #fox mccloud #falco lombardi #wolf o'donnell

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currentfandomkick · 4 years

Text

Marinette did not sign up for this part 10: Mari plots plotting

So long time no post. I live. Ish. Also finally figured out readmore on mobile, so yay. Will take forever to edit posts now though. Explanation at the bottom First part here previous part here. Ao3 here

Marinette wanted to go on record that Mandeliev did not, in fact, give her an extra day or so to study for the test. Why? Instead, she was told she may do a paper on the application of physics in gymnastics and principles of evasion in urban areas and how to combine the two to maximize one’s ability to run away from akumas and other dangers.

Or as Nino put it: “I am tormenting you into running better, the eight page essay.”

Alya dubbed it the “Run Better Paper.”

Aurore said it should include more formulas when Marinette showed her the draft. (as Adrien would complain about lack of theories and how she should have used this advanced formula she’d never heard of instead and then Marinette would have to forcibly stop him from taking over her paper. Again.)

Kim had taken to keeping her in his hoodie, escorting her to the bakery and didn’t leave her alone until Adrien said it was his “Marinette Anxiety Watch” shift.

Which she would like to go on record, is just plain mean to say. She has Liar 100% under control when world ending things and metaphorical bomb drops aren’t happening to her constantly.

—-

Bruce tried to contact Diana and Arthur again. Hal was off world, and therefore useless.

Why?

As his missing son hadn’t contacted them yet. Was still in the Miraculous team’s custody. And he saw the footage of Robin—Damian—being hunted by a lving shadow, an element casting swordswoman, and a strategist that seemed to know exactly what to do to keep Robin cornered in battle. The living shadows—Chat Noir—tried to kill his son with Cataclysm.

That was when they were in public, and had Hal watching over them.

He didn’t want to think about what the kids might do unsupervised to someone that tried to kill Ladybug, openly stalked her civilian self, and apparently tried stalk her again, in broad daylight. And possibly may have revealed her secret identity…

From the comments, it seemed that the Parisians hadn’t connected his sons aliases to the pair, writing it off as “Copy-cat Vigilantes” thankfully. And none of them were revealing more than “so the Fashion Disaster tried to go after Chat and Ryuko’s civvie… Not A Smart CopyBird” was the most he was able to get.

His children, on the other hand…

——

“I Fucking KNEW IT!” Tim yelled. “I knew it was her!”

“But,” Jason smirked. “You didn’t tell us.”

“Soup girl, baby bat!” Cass said gleefully.

“Wait, we both talked to her—and you didn’t say you thought it was her either Cass!”

“So what I’m hearing, if my ears don’t deceive me,” Jason continued. “Is that you all lost too.”

“What—“

“Wait a minute!”

“No way—”

Cass shrugged. She was the least invested in winning. She got to meet soup girl, who is very nice and her parents are safe for Baby Bat.

“We don’t have proof,” Dick pointed out. “Didn’t you say something about her being a mouse?”

“I—”

“Well—”

“Yes.” Cass cut through Tim and Stephanie’s waffling. “She is.”

Dick rubbed his forehead. “How many secrets can one kid have?”

“Five?” Jason said without much thought. “Limit is definitely five.”

—-

“Let me get this straight,” Miss Sting began, watching Ladybug very, very carefully. Rena and Carapace were busy that night and couldn’t act as the team’s Common Sense Filter in person. and texts only went so far.

So the job fell to Aurore. To talk (probably Marinette) Ladybug out of a Very, Stupendously, Inconceivably Bad Idea.

“You want to trust Robin—the kid who tried to kill you—to contact his mother—an assassin—to talk strategy about how to take down Hawkmoth’s civilian life’s business, not kill him, and trust that they won’t kill you?”

“…I’m bringing Chat with me.”

“Ladybug.”

“What, do you want me to use a Lucky Charm to prove this is our best bet?”

“You know what?” Miss Sting threw her hands up. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Fine.” Ladybug threw her yoyo skyward. “Lucky Charm!”

A red, spotted ball with an 8 on it came down.

“… you have got to be kidding me.”

Ladybug shrugged. “Uh, Magic Eightball, is it okay to trust Robin with this?”

One shake later and the floating die window read “Without a Doubt.”

“Give me that.” Miss Sting scowled, shaking as she asked. “Should she bring someone besides Chat and Robin—like someone from our team or Wonder Woman or Aquaman?”

The ball answered “Outlook not so good.”

Miss Sting glared at the magic eight ball. “I can’t believe this!”

Ladybug shrugged. “Lucky Charms are Lucky Charms—and I gotta go.”

Miss Sting checked her beeping spinning top. Someone was just akumatized.

“Re-charge first!” Miss Sting yelled before swinging ahead.

—-

“Oh, hey, when’s Demon Spawn going to contact us?” Jason asked as other bats calmed down.

“He’s not answering his communicator.” Bruce growled. “Hal took it earlier.”

The bats paused at that.

“Well then. Trackers?”

“Disabled—what? We didn’t need anyone crashing the apology and he ran off before I could stop him,” Dick defended. He is not Damian’s keeper. Just his Batman (as yes Bruce, he is Damian’s Batman and Damian is his Robin. Current masks not-withstanding).

“Then how are we supposed to find him?” Stephanie asked as the room grew uneasy.

No one answered that.

“How’s this,” Tim began. “Me, Steph and Cass agreed on who Hawkmoth probably is, each of us has a different set of evidence for it—and I’m counting breaking into his evil Liar and the cameras catching him mid-act a few minutes ago as absolute proof.”

“I’m sorry, you did what!” Stephanie leaned over Tim’s shoulder to see. “Oh shit. Isn’t that guy—”

“One of her friends? According to their private Instagram accounts, more like partner in crime and possible Chat Noir. I mean, he’s the one that calls her his “everyday Ladybug” and voices Chat Noir in everything." Tim answered idly. “My money’s on him not knowing at all.”

Bruce twitched. Then began to add ‘stalking social media feeds’ to his to-do list tonight.

“So,” Tim stepped forward. “I suggest we send this to the Wonder Woman and ask for Robin’s comm to be returned, and failing that, I bugged the video so anything they play it on, we get access to its IP and can find where they are.”

“Have Oracle go over the bug, just in case,” Bruce told them. “In the mean time, the rest of you suit up for the night. Gotham needs its vigilantes.”

—-

Marinette wanted to go on the record that her plan (to keep the bats away) was going well. Deciding what to do with Mu—R—Damian. Damian. Damian and his offer, was a challenge.

For obvious reasons, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman and Aquaman were against her asking a bunch of assassins for their help. Chat has more than a few reservations. Carapace, Rena and Miss Sting gave her looks for that plan.

But.

But it would work. She needs more information on how to make the plan burning in the back of her mind work. It’s a lot of chaos (and she may thrive in chaotic battles but this wasn’t her usual battlefield, and her team didn’t know who they were going up against for once). And Marinette? She needs to know its not just her doing this when its so out of her depths.

So despite literally everyone and their disagreements she had Chat on her right side with Damian on her left, meeting up with his Crazy, Semi-Immortal mother. And possibly his Immortal, former Black Cat candidate, grandfather.

Why?

As Marinette isn’t trusting the likely cult that makes up the Gotham Ghost Gang (Batfam if you like them) when she can get real advice and vague directions to immortal and allied (loyal and terrifying) assassins.

And yes, she wasn’t sure if Liar was wrong or right when they said it was a bad idea too.

But fuckit she’s already got Kaalki at her shoulder, looking a bit bored at the deserted rooftop that Kaalki chose for their meeting.

“داميان*,” the woman smiled at her son. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mother,” Robin greeted. “This is Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug wished to speak to you about potential strategies to take down an enemy outside of battle without violence,” Damian stressed.

“I am well-aware of the Kwami and their Chosen, اِبْن.**” The woman spoke calmly. “The League of Assassins formed to act as the Black Cat to restore the world to balance and un-burden the Order with its maintenance.” The woman offer Ladybug her hand. “I am Talia al Ghul, and I am at your service, with or without violence Ladybug.”

Marinette took her hand. “Thank you Talia. Our target being directly exposed like I planned would have…” Ladybug trailed off, thinking over the ramifications not only to Adrien, but to the whole of Gabriel’s brand, workers and all that worked with them. “Some intense ramifications I’d rather avoid.”

Talia nodded her head, waiting for more information.

“I believe its possible to topple them without affecting their employees by uncoupling them from their business, but doing so is, well, stocks and economics isn’t my strongest point.” Ladybug admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I would suggest,” Talia began, “to create a bit of chaos in the stock market. Perhaps a rumor here and there, let investors pull out and grab the abandoned stocks quickly. Consolidate them under one owner and become the company’s owner.”

Marinette twitched a bit at that. “That… sounds complicated.”

“Oh, but it isn’t. My son knows just how to that, or did you forget our lessons?” Talia asked coolly.

Damian twitched at Marinette’s side. “I did not.”

“You know,” Chat chimed in. “I do know a few things about those things. If its general chaos, well…” Chat’s face twisted in a way Marinette forgot he could do after that Chat Blanc episode.

“… I will take that into consideration.”

“Anything else?” Talia asked, watching Ladybug and her son. Specifically, how her son seemed glued to the girl’s side. “I am certain my son is able to take out your target, if all else fails.”

Damian scowled at Marinette’s side.

“However, I do believe that whatever is happening, whatever has you active, might require a more… experience hand.”

Damian brushed against her side. Code for ‘Possible Danger.’

“Thank you for the offer,” Chat moved in front of Marinette. “But mi’lady and the Guardians have that much handled.”

Talia’s eyes shifted from Chat to Ladybug, staying on her. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I merely needed more information on how to execute this type of plan, that’s all!” Ladybug almost, almost slipped into Marinette while Liar, while silenced for the moment, prodded the back of her mind. “I want to minimize collateral damage as much as I can, to everyone. The kwami already said they get to chose the target’s punishment.”

“Ah, I see.” Talia relaxed then. “You are following the kwami’s wishes. I will respect their wishes as well, Chosen.”

Marinette categorized this interaction as one of the “not too horrible, but will avoid a repeat” once they left.

—

*Damian in arabic

**son

so we have Talia now as a Player, sort of. she plays by her word pretty well so hopefully its a cameo more than anything else.

any ideas on how JL will handle the video, and if Miraculous Team should see it and freak out or only LB and keep on the dl while JL assissts in her Chaos Plot?

End of update. Will have to repost from ao3 on my phone now as desktop tumblr is being exceptionally rude. Tags always open, just takes me a bit to do—sorry to vixen for vanishing from tags

TAGS: @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @bisha43rbs @izang @dreamykitty25 @emu-lumberjack @vixen-uchiha

#maribat #marinette did not sign up for this #part 10 #updated at last #my writing #long post #my writings #bio!dad bruce

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magnusbanewastaken · 3 years

Text

WHAT TO BUY THE SHADOWHUNTER WHO HAS EVERYTHING (And Who You're FINALLY Officially Dating... And More)

SUMMARY: In compliance with our roleplaying group's winter holidays special activity, following the prompt: “Someone has just become fabulously wealthy and is picking out gifts for their family.”

RATING: G

CHARACTER/S: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Max Lightwood-Bane

TAG/S: rpgroup, writing challenge, romance, winter holidays, christmas

also @ ao3

Last minute Christmas gift-shopping was always a terrible idea. Either things would be out of stock by that point or nothing much of worth would be left on the shelves. Not to mention the surprising long lines that still exist that late into the holidays. Not to mention having to deal with ill-tempered customers in line with you and the frustrated staff who had to be stuck at work instead of spending the last few days before Christmas preparing for their own celebrations at home. But that's not always the case, not if you were like Magnus who knew exactly where to go.

Everywhere you looked in the Liberty Mall were a festoon of lights, ribbons, tinsels, shiny ornaments, and faux evergreens decked along escalators, archways, and guardrails. A massive Christmas tree that reaches up to almost the third floor of the mall, stood tall at the center of the atrium. This was the place to be in Manhattan for Magnus's quick, at-the-very-last minute shopping spree. All the shops were still open despite it being Christmas Eve already but there weren't a lot of people there compared to other stores and strips around Manhattan around this time in the afternoon. The reason for that most likely had something to do with the stores there being lavishly-priced luxury stores. And that was most unfortunate for him since he liked the attention and stares he'd get for the captivating outfits he usually wore.

Today he had on black leather pants, a studded black belt that looped around his waist twice, and a blood red wool overcoat open over a white wool deep V-neck sweater. A pair of gold thin rimmed sunglasses sat neatly over his coiffed hair and his face was subtly slathered with silver bits of glitter just over his eyelids and out towards the outer corners of his eyes. At least there were still some store managers to dazzle, he thought, perhaps he'd even get discounts as it sometimes often happens to him. Not that he needed any discounts. He had a perfectly wonderful yet complicated relationship with money that never really failed him even at times when he'd end up with nothing but the shirt on his back. He could get himself anything he wanted and anything anyone else wanted. Which is how he ended up going for a last minute shopping spree in the first place.

He didn't have to be there. Personally Magnus wouldn't really bother with shopping "traditionally" for anything. He could just conjure up anything from somewhere and compensate for them later, that is if he remembers to do so, and it was more reliable than online shopping. But now that he was practically sharing his life with Alec, some changes with his lifestyle had to be made. His roguish shopping habits weren't something Alec particularly liked leaving the warlock no choice but to oblige.

He sauntered through the marbled floors of Liberty Mall, going in store after store to pick out presents for tonight's party. It was a gathering at the Institute, mostly a Shadowhunter event despite other Downworlders like him being invited and despite Christmas not exactly traditionally celebrated among the Nephilim. It was an excuse to have a party for the holidays and a way to have their growing families gather together for a night. He wasn't in charge of organising this party, a mistake and a tragedy for them if you'd ask Magnus. He would've done it for free if they asked but the other people who aren't his friends and family that will be there were still predisposed into thinking Magnus would have turned it into a Downworlder rave. At least it was Isabelle helming the celebration, he could count on her to pull off something he would still enjoy despite the restraints of the ever-so-uptight Nephilim traditions.

It was easy enough to think of gifts for the women in his life since fashion was always the answer. He went to every big-named fashion houses at Liberty and was immediately entertained by store attendants, likely believing he might be someone important or famous with the way Magnus always carried himself. And if not that, it was the wads of cash he'd fan and flaunt to their faces, Magnus always wanted to do that. Isabelle was easy to give gifts to since she was always more than willing to try out anything Magnus recommends and her taste and style was to his liking. He simply got her anything he thought would look good on him if he was a woman. Maryse, much like her daughter was somewhat easier to give gifts to. Some jewelry here, designer coats and handbags here and there. They didn't always see eye to eye but ever since his little blueberry, Max, came around, Maryse had softened, even Robert too. She'd often invite him over just to chat, although he was certain she just wanted to spoil little Max. But it did give him the opportunity to get close to her and know her well which also pleased Alec.

Lily was another person he found to be easy to gift to, she'd accept almost anything fancy he gave her, even the not-so-fancy ones he'd sometimes trick her into believing were fancy. Clary on the other hand was slightly more difficult as to this day she still had little to no fashion sense and would deny him the opportunity to enlighten her about the latest fashion trends. Even Maia was easier to bend, provided it came along with a couple of board games and video games. But that won't stop him from trying. He didn't want to force Clary into things that would be uncomfortable for her even if they are trendy. He didn't want to change her, he only wanted to open her eyes to different possibilities than just sticking with something safe and casual. Good thing Jocelyn wasn't as difficult as her daughter. He got her some clothes and jewelry but of course he had to give her the finest brushes and paints as well as coffee table books on art. He was certain Clary would be jealous of them but she'll have to up her fashion game first before he gives her anything she actually wanted.

Men were difficult to give gifts to, he thought. If they weren't anything like him who had a taste for all the pretty and stylish things in the world, he wouldn't be enjoying even thinking about what to give them. Raphael and Ragnor were the exceptions since their gifts were almost exclusively joke gifts and expensive ones at that. But, well, it wasn't possible to do that anymore. He completely rushed through gifts for Jace, Simon, Luke, and Robert and got them simple, not-as-thoughtful as the rest gifts. A set of throwing knives from Japan and a set of Scandinavian hunting knives were for Jace. Simon gets to inherit some of the rare comic books in his possession that were still in mint condition. He threw in a couple of the latest computer games in there just to say he actually bought him something. Luke also gets a set of first editions of books he had owned for centuries; he figured he wouldn't mind that they were used books. But he also got him some new clothes and shoes. Magnus appreciated his alternative, scruffy vibe but he can't wear plaid and worn out boots every single day of the week, that's just preposterous, especially when he has to stand next to a lovely woman such as Jocelyn. And for Robert he got him a pair of watches and a set of fashionable ties, dads liked those kinds of things, right?

He also threw in mugs with designs that he thought would fit for everyone like "Nothing Less Than Seven Inches" for Isabelle. "World's Best Grandma and Grandpa" for Maryse and Robert respectively, "Life Is Short And So Am I" for Clary, "I'm A Vampire Let Me Suck You Off" for Lily, things like that. Nobody likes getting mugs, especially not for Christmas, but he had already prepared expensive gifts for them, surely they wouldn't mind the mugs.

He was empty-handed again after sending away the novelty mugs he got for everyone. His loft must look like Santa's Workshop by now with the amount of gifts he sent back there, he was hoping to get back and do some wrapping before Alec and Max comes home. He looked out the glass panes of the side of the mall to see that the sky was still a bluish gray of daylight, and the horizon was just turning into a faint shade of purple. It's only been a couple of hours but going through all those stores felt like a lengthy ordeal. Next year he wouldn't be so generous, he thought, he'll only do it again in ten years or twenty.

Now all that's left was his own little family. Alec and Max. Max and Alec. My family. He kept repeating the thought in his mind. Even if it's been years since he and Alec were together and well over a year since Max came into their lives, it was still a bit odd for him to think that this was all real if he was being honest, but it was all real. Being with Alec was real. Having Max with them was real. He doesn't really show it but even Magnus was still trying to get used to the idea.

Max was not difficult to think of a gift for, what was difficult was restraining himself from spoiling him; Max was such a cute baby it was really difficult not to do so. If Magnus had it his way he would've spoiled him to death, even Maryse was quite eager to do just that, but Alec wasn't going to have any of that, and he was right on this one. Still, it was Christmas, so he got Max some stuffed toys and a rideable toy car that looked very much like the black Maserati he and Alec rode through France last summer. He hoped for the best that Alec would let this slide becuase Max would look really cute in it, provided he didn't float away with it.

Alec was the last person he would be getting a gift for. Magnus could have made an excuse for himself that this was because he saved the best for last but really Alec was the first person he tried to think of a gift for, the moment he woke up this morning to be exact, and since then he hasn't settled on what to actually give him. Magnus wondered how you could love someone so passionately and even know that someone all too well for quite some time, yet you still find yourself having difficulties with thinking of what to gift said someone.

Magnus took respite in a garden cafe on the first floor of the Liberty Mall. He had one of their special winter lattes that were sweet and minty cool to taste while still thinking of a gift for Alec. He knew he couldn't ask anyone else for their opinions, he learned that lesson the last time he tried to think of a gift for Alec on his eighteenth birthday. He could always ring up Isabelle but he figured she would still be busy with organising things for tonight. Scrolling through articles online on his phone didn't help much either since they found them all too tacky and incredibly heteronormative for his liking. He sighed and put down his phone and took a sip from his latte.

His eyes lingered on the stuffed toys sitting inside the toy car he recently bought for Max just sitting next to his chair. He hadn't sent it away to his loft yet since seeing it gave him some sort of comfort. Looking at the car closely made him remember of his time in France with Alec again. That was the time where they finally managed to redo their European trip without having anything to do with demons and cultists. He has been in and out of France far too many times since the Belle Époque but that summer felt like a brand new experience with Alec. Magnus showed him all the places he had fallen in love with in the quaint countrysides of France and Alec showed him how to fall in love with them all over again. He told Alec about how he felt about that and Alec told him how much he looked forward to seeing the world with him. That was a promise that made Magnus believe that what they had was something for the long run, that he would be loving Alec for a long time. And that's when it hit him. He finally figured out what to give Alec.

Magnus's loft never looked so bright and festive unless it was because of his parties. It has been a long time since he last threw one and it was before Max came along. Tonight, his living room was ornamented by the dreamy and warm hues of gold, beige, cream, and white. The usual colours of reds, greens, yellows, and blues were much too gaudy for Magnus's vision of Christmas that year. The only greens in sight were the garlands lined all over the place and the tree sitting at the center of the room, swathed with gold and silver tinsels and ornaments as well as strings of fairy lights. Sitting by the floor and standing about as high as half of the tree were the presents he had bought earlier in the day. Magnus had already changed into the suit he would be wearing tonight. Alec had warned him that he might get looks from people since he would be wearing white when it's not a funeral. Not that Alec really minded but thought he should let him know anyway. Magnus thought that would be ridiculous, he'd be wearing chanterelle beige not white and he would very much like to get looks from people. And that was that, no one could tell Magnus how to dress anyway.

He was surrounded by lights and sparks of blue as he did his magic, as he was still in the middle of boxing and wrapping the last batch of presents when he heard the door swing open. Without pause, he looked over the side of the tree and looking past the mountain of presents to find Alec with an astonished expression on his face. He was also already in his outfit for tonight which was something he asked Magnus to pick for him. He wore dark brown dress pants and brown overcoat over a cozy beige turtleneck sweater that let him look somewhat formal without sacrificing comfort. He would have just worn something semi-formal but knowing Magnus, he wouldn't have let him look too simple next to him. Alec was carrying a little blueberry of a baby in his right arm, wearing a little black and white onesie suit. The little blue warlock was looking far more cheery than Alec at the sight of the presents. Or perhaps he just had a nice mix of milk in his bottle that day, Magnus couldn't quite tell with Max sometimes.

"Did you just rob the North Pole?" asked Alec.

"Of course not! And even if I did, I'd say it's fair game, that jolly old bastard owes me," Magnus just finished tying the final bow on the last gift in the pile when he walked over to where Alex and Max was.

"...Santa Claus is real?"

"Absolutely, and he's a warlock too. I thought that was common knowledge," said Magnus then planted a kiss on Max's temple.

Alec was not always sure whether Magnus was making things up especially when it comes to warlock things and his warlock friends but that wasn't what's important right now.

"You paid for all this, right?"

"I did and here are the receipts to prove it," with a quick snap of a finger there appeared a clipboard of receipts popping up from a blue swirl of light, floating right in front of Alec's line of sight.

Magnus spoke almost too proudly about legally acquiring his gifts. Alec had been persistent in guilting him with the things he'd conjure from somewhere without paying after all. Magnus picked up Max from Alec's grasp before Alec started flipping through the receipts. Then suddenly a gasp was heard.

"By the Angel, Magnus! Twenty thousand dollars just for clothes?" Alec asked, having a more audible and greater shock than the one he had when he came in earlier causing Max to look up at Magnus as if he could understand and was looking at him for answers.

"They were Dior," Magnus simply explained.

"Seventeen thousand dollars for a watch?" Alec continued flipping.

"Two watches actually, believe me that's already cheap, I hope your father doesn't mind."

"How could you even afford all this?" He asked as he still continued flipping but should really be stopping at this point.

"The painting I sold off the other day remember? It was worth millions apparently,"

"Millions?" Alec looked at Magnus with an even greater expression of disbelief than when he started flipping through the receipts.

"This is why I don't want to talk money with you, you look like you're about to faint," Magnus spoke calmly as he held Alec's face in his free hand hoping it would calm Alec down as well.

"Remind me not to ask next time," Alec nodded then sighed. Magnus looked at him, a bit of worry evident on his face but Alec gave him a reassuring smile, "As long as you actually paid for things."

"Yes, dad, I don't do that thing anymore," Magnus quipped with a smile and dipped in for a kiss on Alec's cheek.

"How are we getting all this to the Institute?"

"Darling."

"Right, magic. Almost forgot. Well, we better go ahead, Izzy will kill me if we're late."

"Wait, I'm sure Izzy won't mind us being fashionably late. I want to give you your present right now," said Magnus then passed Max back to Alec's arms.

"You look serious," Alec noted as he let Max nestle comfortably in his right arm.

"Just nerves. I'm not sure why when I know you wouldn't say no."

"No?"

A whirl of blue light appeared in the palm of Magnus's hand. When the glowing light dissipated, underneath it was a small red velvet box. Magnus could see Alec was already too stunned to say anything. He stared at the box in the warlock's hand for a moment and then back at Magnus. His brilliant blue eyes seemed like they were glistening as their eyes met and Magnus felt his heart warm up at the sight of Alec's smile.

Magnus opened the box and cushioned inside were a pair of rings. One had a round ocean blue diamond set in an intricate basket of flame filigrees, setting on top of a half-braided white gold band. The other ring was a bit bigger in size with an emerald cut blue diamond framed with blue melee diamonds.

"You paid for this too, right?" Alec finally spoke, Magnus almost laughed.

"Darling."

"Sorry, nerves."

"It's my promise to you, my love," said Magnus. "I still stand by what I said the last time we spoke about it, that I won't have you marry me until you, until we, can marry in gold. You deserve nothing less and I can't have you settle for less just because you chose to be with me. I want these rings to be a promise and a reminder for us everyday when we might glance upon it that this is all real. Just as real as any other Shadowhunter unions. That the kind of love we have is not worth anything lesser just because it's a little bit different than what Nephilim traditions dictate.

"So, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, if I may ask,” Magnus got down on one knee and looked up at the two loves of his life, first to Max and then to Alec, "Will you promise to stand by me until we can marry in gold?"

"Absolutely. Yes. It's a promise," Alec was holding back tears as he said that. Max might have felt it too since he started blubbering things and patting his little hands on Alec's face as if to comfort him.

Magnus picked out the ring with the round cut blue diamond then reached out for Alec's left hand. He slipped the white gold band in his ring finger then looked up into Alec's beautiful blue eyes with his heart full of love. Alec took out the other ring from the box with his free hand as Magnus raised his left hand in front of him. The ring sat perfectly around Magnus's left ring finger and suddenly it was the most priceless ring he had, putting all the other rings he wore to shame. They both leaned in for a kiss, it was sweet and tender and Magnus felt the warmth of Alec's love between his lips. But Max had other plans when he decided to break it off and hit Magnus on the side of his head.

"Alright you little smurf, we're going, we're going," he smiled as he ruffled the head of the little blue warlock.

"Oh, right, Alec," Magnus raised his hand and behind the blue glow of smoke surrounding his hand, he conjured up what looked to be like car keys. He handed it to Alec and he immediately recognized the logo etched on its body.

"Did you rent this just for tonight? Can't we just Portal through?"

"You know I don't trust Portal-ing with the baby," Magnus replied. "And no, it's not rented, it's yours."

"No way. Magnus, I can't—" but Magnus cut him off with a kiss.

"Darling, no more arguments before a party," said Magnus as he pulled away from Alec. He then took Max from him and carried him in his arms. "I don't want us to look stressed when we waltz in there. We have the image of a perfectly perfect family to rub in people's faces."

Alec was still a bit dumbfounded about everything that just happened. All those surprises in one night seemed to be too much for the Shadowhunter. But Magnus liked it whenever he leaves Alec dumbfounded.

"Now come along, Alexander, I don't want us to be later than fashionably late," Magnus was already out the door and was being playful with Max who was giggling his little heart out. "My little blueberry must steal the show, yes you will, you're going to be just like your papa when you've grown."

Alec eventually broke out from his daze. He followed them out and went on their way to the Institute.

The party had already started by the time they rolled in the Institute grounds in the sleek black Maserati GT Convertible Magnus had just given him. Though the streets were lined with snow, luckily it wasn't snowing that evening so they were able to ride the car with the top down. Alec might have wanted to argue with Magnus about it earlier but driving it now let him warm up to the idea of owning it. Max seemed to have enjoyed the ride as well as he sat on Magnus's lap in the back of the car. Everything seemed to be going smoothly on its own that Isabelle had the time to come out and meet with them. Simon was with her of course and Jace and Clary followed too when they heard that Magnus, Alex, and Max were on their way. But it was really just an excuse for them to be able to leave the party even for a moment. Parties really weren't the same without Magnus in it.

Clary immediately walked over to Magnus who was carrying Max in one arm. Max was still bouncy and lively as he wrapped his hands around Clary's finger and patting his other hand on her head. Jace was in awe of the car that his parabatai drove and recognized it was the same one Alec kept talking about when they got back from their European redo trip last summer. Jace nearly flipped when Alec told him it was his Christmas gift and even Simon who wasn't exactly a car guy was impressed by it. The car conversation was cut when Isabelle broke in to reprimand Alec and Magnus for arriving late but immediately had a change of heart when the two showed off their rings. Isabelle practically leapt in to hug her brother and so did Clary with Magnus. They all said their congratulations but no one could say they were surprised. With the way things are between Magnus and Alec it was just the natural progression of things but it was still something nice to see especially on Christmas Eve.

As Magnus had expected and have willed to happen, there were a lot of eyes on him as he walked inside the Institute with Alec holding his hand and Max nestled in his other arm. No one would dare state for too long but he noticed the side glances and whispers as they walked through. Whether they were bad or good whispers he didn't particularly care, it boosted his ego pretty well either way.

He and Alec approached Maryse and Robert first who were in the middle of a conversation with some of the Blackthorns. Maryse was quick to ask for Max when they got close which Magnus obliged to and passed his little blueberry into his grandma's arms. It was Alec who excused his parents for a moment and brought them aside to show them their engagement rings. Maryse looked like she was getting overwhelmed that Robert had to take Max from her while she hugged Alec tightly. Like the others, they weren't entirely surprised by it but the rings really did make all the difference.

When all was finally said and done, Magnus conjured up the mountain of presents that were sitting back in his living room. The presents were all lined up around the base of the Christmas tree for his friends and family to open up later when the other guests have left. He made sure to conjure up the gifts in the homes of the others who weren't able to make it there that night like Jocelyn and Luke who decided to stay in together. As well as Maia and Lily who had hosted a different kind of party for the werewolf pack and vampire clans.

At the Beth Israel Hospital, Catarina finally had time to take a break from cheering up the kids who were stuck there for Christmas. She sat on her own in the breakroom having a snack and some coffee using a mug that said "Why So Blue?". She was on her phone to check the messages she couldn't read earlier and most of them were typical holiday greetings. The one that stood out and brought a smile to her face was a photo greeting of Magnus and Alec showing their rings and Max floating on his own next to them with the caption, "Happy Holidays from the Lightwood-Banes".

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #max lightwood-bane #the mortal instruments #tmi fanfiction #tmi fanfic #river writes crap

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Text

One of His Little Toys

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: I wrote this for my @starkerfestivals prison au bingo square! I’m stoked for you guys to see it & hope you enjoy <3 Word Count: ~4.6k Warnings: drug use, physical violence, daddy!kink, general things that happen in prison

Growing up in the heart of Chicago, Peter didn’t have much a choice of what happened in his life. Sure, he was smart – but that wasn’t how you survived in his neighborhood. People didn’t give a shit about an ability to do differential equations – clout was won with fists, guns, and the occasional drive by shooting. No one really understood the darkness of the gang life outside of his little sector of the world. The Cartel had a direct link to the Underworld in Chicago – and Peter got caught in the web at a pretty young age.

May tried to stop him, she really did. When he first brought Quentin back to the apartment so he could grab some things to get the hell out of dodge for a couple of days, May cornered him in his room, a heated look on her face. “What are you doing with him, Pete? I told you I’d talk to Del Mar – we can get you a job.” May said the same words she’d been repeating to him over and over again since he turned 18. He’d been lucky so far, not getting caught in the illicit affairs he let himself get lost in.

“May, stop. I’m going to be gone for a couple of days. I can’t work for Del Mar right now.” He slammed the last couple of things he needed into the bag in his hand and brushed past her – the usual kiss on the cheek replaced by discontent and the slightest bit of disdain. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.” Peter wondered how many people said that before bad shit happened to them.

Later that same night, Peter was standing on his usual corner with his new partner, Quentin Beck – the bosses second or third in command around the city. He’d been steadily working his way through the ranks throughout high school and now that he could be available whenever and wherever – they gave him the ultimate promotion. It felt weird at first, to have so much cash and product on him; but then again, Peter never really stopped feeling off about the whole thing since he got beat up into it more than four years ago.

Slipping a line of blow across the snuff box of his hand, Peter took a long inhale and let the powder enter his nasal cavity, the movement of the drug across his blood-brain barrier quick – the effects hit him straight in the chest only a moment or two later. It was his only bump for the night, he needed to keep alert for the busy time of the evening in a couple of hours. When the clubs closed, all of the little playthings would come crawling his way – the late-night hours still upon them.

The night went on like it usually did – he made a few transactions and talked shit with the guys while they stood around, waiting for the next batch of patrons to find their hidden corner of the world. Peter, despite his promise to himself, took another couple of bumps from the stash in his pocket, most of the night spent floating in that weird haze that made time speed up and slow down all at the same time.

Through the haze, Peter recognized the swirling red and blue lights of the cop car about a second too late. He tried to turn and run, his feet a little heavy from the drugs coursing through his system – but he tried, anyway. The four or five steps he took were not enough – all of the sudden, he was down on the ground with a knee in his back, his hands being pulled behind him. There wasn’t any use fighting it, so he turned his head into the concrete below him and let the officer do his thing.

Between the huge stack of money in his jacket pocket and the many, many, many baggies of cocaine, pills, and black balloons in his pants pocket, there was way more than enough to put him away. There wouldn’t be a crying May bailing him out for the fifth time – not after this one. Sucking in a deep breath, Peter waited impatiently in his holding cell; they liked to drag out this process, his previous experiences adding up to so many days sitting in this exact precinct waiting for something – anything to happen.

His stint in court was pretty quick – Peter knew not to name any names or talk about what he knew – so he took his sentencing and waved a handcuffed goodbye in May’s direction when they walked him out. He might as well get used to only seeing her from that distance – 10 years would be a long time to only see her through the partition in the meeting rooms.

The whole processing system of actually getting into the prison took longer than his court appearances. He was used to the bend, squat, and cough – so he blissfully got to put his orange jumpsuit on without further hassle. He thought about all the dumb fucks that came through here and caused a fuss – those people just begging for trouble. Peter knew enough to know the last thing he wanted to do was go sniffing around for anything that looked remotely like a problem. It was imperative to get in there, keep his head down, and find people that weren’t going to shank him when he wasn’t looking.

All in a single day’s work, he thought – a sadistic smile on his face.

His first night was spent in a temporary cell – the big guys that were waiting to be sorted just like him didn’t scare him, but he gave up the top bunk to a grunting man who eyed him up when he demanded; Peter wasn’t going to be sleeping much, anyway. He kept his eyes open and his brain active for the entire night – if he was going to get pulled him his bed, at least he’d be ready for it.

Luckily, the first night went pretty well and he got pulled into a double room later the next afternoon. When he was walked into the cell by a guard, the other side was empty – the protocol of separating the prisoners a little moot once Peter settled into his side of the room. Who was he to argue with the bull shit of this place? The guard gave him a once over before unlocking his cuffs and stepping out.

Sitting down on the flat mat that would serve as his mattress for the rest of the time here, Peter watched the guard bring in his roommate. The man was older, his temples were struck through with white hair. There was a vertical scar across his right cheek that led up to smooth bourbon colored eyes and long eyelashes. His tongue peaked out and trailed across his lip, the older man watching Peter watch him.

At first glance, the man did not scream criminal. He wiggled his eyebrows and smiled at Peter while the guard undid his cuffs, then turned around and flipped him off when the door was closed and locked. “Thanks a bunch, Clint!” he shouted, his hands gripping the bars for a moment. Taking a deep breath, Peter braced himself – this initial interaction would more than likely set the tone for the rest of their relationship sharing this confined space.

When the man did turn around, Peter was struck by just how good all of those features looked together. He wasn’t tall, but there was a presence to him – his arms seemed well defined in the white jumpsuit this block wore. He crossed his fingers that this guy wasn’t some fucking psychopath, because he could easily see himself getting tangled up in whatever his roommate had to offer. A scary thought for not even knowing his name.

Without any preamble, the guy held a hand out between them, a smirk on his face. “Tony Stark,” he remarked confidently, his eyes glued to Peter. Knowing a challenge when he saw it, Peter slipped his hand into Tony’s. Though they were a little smaller than his own, Tony’s hands were rough, callouses riddling his palm and fingers.

“I’m Peter. Parker. Peter Parker,” he mumbled out, his cheeks heating up. What the hell was happening to him? All of the sudden it felt like his tongue was twenty pounds heavier than just a minute ago, his heart hammering against his chest. Gripping Tony’s hand tightly for another second, Peter pulled back – a guarded look on his face.

“You’re awfully young to be in a place like this, Peter Parker. What did a pretty thing like you do?” Tony asked, the customary ‘what’s your charge’ question was one he still wasn’t used to answering. It never occurred to him just how fucked up his life got until he uttered his drug charges – possession with the intention to distribute. The rabbit hole he let himself fall down was a big one.

Peter took a seat on his excuse for a bed again, his legs swinging crisscross applesauce in front of him like the literal child that he was. “Possession and distribution. All the hard stuff.” He shrugged his shoulders, irritable fingers picking at the snag at the end of his jumpsuit. “I’m not that young. Old enough to be here, anyway,” Peter muttered, his tone coming off a little petulant. At 18, he was old enough to spend the next decade of his life locked away – he felt old enough to not be called young anymore, too.

Tony threw his hands up in mock surrender, the smirk on his face growing a little. “I should have known. You have drugged up twink written all over you. Me, I liked to steal really expensive shit. Kind of a brainy criminal, if you will,” Tony stated. He smiled wide, like the Cheshire Cat, his eyes glowing a little. “Got any brains in that head of yours?” Tony took a step toward him then, his hand tapping on the middle of Peter’s forehead.

Simply rolling with it, Peter nodded his head – his eyes dropping a little bit. Something in him said to get on this guy’s good side. Part of it was his natural urge to submit to beautiful older men like Tony. He let Quentin walk him into a trap because he liked the lines around his eyes and the delectable way he could give Peter just enough to keep him coming back for more. His true druggy nature getting in the way of clear thought. Not this time, though – this was conscious and premeditated. To survive in here, he needed people on his side.

“Yes sir,” he finally responded, his chest tightening when he heard Tony take in a deep gulp of air. So, he’d chosen correctly. His lips slipped into the slightest of smiles, his instinct finally leading him in the right direction for once.

A palm cupped his cheek and tilted his head up, the man’s eyes catching his own. Peter saw heat there – brown pools quickly being swarmed by the black of his eye. Tony caressed his cheek softly, the touch a total contrast to the look on his face. Then, he pulled his hand back and slapped him – the echo of it making his teeth grind. “We’ll see, Peter Parker. We’ll see.”

Peter kept close to Tony throughout the rest of the day. Their cell doors opened a couple of hours later, guards stepping in to put them in cuffs and walk them out to the yard where they’d get a bit of fresh air. Out of all the experiences he’d ever had in jail, this one – the yard and all the vulnerability that came with being out in the open for most of the block population to see (and attack) – always made him nervous.

He quickly found he had nothing to fear, however. It wasn’t hard to see that the man he was with carried a sort of clout that only long-time crooks and murders could obtain. People looked away unless he was speaking to them and when he did, they gave him their full attention. Keeping his own eyes down, Peter was surprised to find them stopped in front of a cluster of guys sitting on some of the picnic benches just outside the cages around the gym.

“Guys – this is Pete.” He pushed at Peter’s arm, the movement thrusting him a little closer to the group. “Pete here says he’s smart. So he’s good with us until he stops being smart. Got it?” Tony looked at each of them, their heads nodding without a singular argument. Not for the first time since experiencing Tony’s raucous and completely intoxicating energy, Peter wondered what the actual fuck this guy was all about.

Either way, he didn’t question it. The group was large enough to have a perimeter around him at all times and they all seemed to do whatever Tony told them. As long as he was smart – which he wasn’t quite sure what that meant yet – he could count on the protection of the group of misfits that were gathered around his roommate like he was the actual messiah.

Peter quickly came to learn that Tony was the brains behind many operations within the prison. Since the older man’s duty was in the kitchen, he had access to delivery vehicles – which smuggled in products of interest for the other prisoners.

There was a pretty elaborately interwoven mechanism of distribution and payment that made Peter’s head spin thinking about it. He bit into his lip when Tony took him through it all, the massive amount of information that Tony kept in his head overwhelming.

He didn’t need to wonder about what being smart meant for long. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Tony picked up on his submission, the way he called him sir – hell, the way he followed him around like a puppy. It wasn’t hard to see it in his eyes, the want that fueled him where Tony was concerned. When the older man eventually came to collect, Peter didn’t hesitate or struggle. Their lips met in a hot kiss, a hot moan slipping from Peter’s lips. Tony tore away and pressed the side of his face against Peter’s.

“Fuck, you moan so pretty. But you have to keep it down for daddy, do you understand? The guards are only going to tolerate so much shit. And I plan to make you howl when I slam my cock inside of you,” Tony muttered, the words close enough to his ear that every one of them sent a tingle down his spine – the warm breath a swift contrast to the cool temperature in the cell.

He felt Tony reach down and grab him through his jumpsuit, his cock already rock hard. Biting into his lip, Peter stopped himself from yelping, the heat in his core already starting to overflow. Another hard squeeze had him standing right at the precipice – his body a total traitor. Tony huffed out a laugh, then covered Peter’s lips with his own. “Be a good boy and cum for daddy,” he whispered pulling away from the kiss a couple minutes later.

As if he would try to fight against that request – biting down harder on his lip, Peter felt himself cum in the only pair of boxers he’d been allowed. Tasting blood on his tongue made the haze he fell into even better, and he slumped against the wall bonelessly. Tony gave him all of a minute to recover before he was grabbing at him, hands tight on his shoulders.

“Get on your knees,” the older man demanded, his voice low and gravely – the tone one that didn’t leave room for any sort of questioning or argument. He slipped down to the hard floor and waited for Tony’s next instruction.

The rustling of clothes had him looking up, his eyes catching the bare flesh of his stomach before it was gone. Tony pulled himself out of his pants just enough to press his bare cock against Peter’s mouth.

“Open up, baby boy,” Tony murmured, his jaw already slack from the cold air across his sensitive flesh.

Opening his mouth, Peter took Tony in, the older man feeding him his dick – inch by inch. Tony kept a tight grasp at the base and let his hips tip forward to slip the length down Peter’s throat. He wasn’t the most experienced person in the world, but he learned how to breathe through his nose pretty quickly – Tony’s length impressive, despite his shorter stature. As the tip of Tony’s cock pressed against his throat, Peter felt himself drool down his chin, thick tears starting to collect in his eyes.

Tony’s hand moved from his dick to the back of Peter’s head and kept him there – his nostrils flaring as he tried to catch his breath. The hand stayed there for what felt like another year before fingers were tangling in his long curls and pulling his head away – a string of spit alive and well between his mouth and the tip of Tony’s cock. Gasping in a deep breath, Peter barely had time to wipe his chin before his throat was being assaulted again.

The older man took what he wanted until his hips started to stutter. Tony pulled back then, his eyes completely glazed – the look in them a little scary. His hand tightened in Peter’s hair and yanked until he was rising to his feet to ease some of the tension on the strands. The tip of his tongue played with the bite marks on his lip – the stimulus enough to stave off the sudden heat slamming into his chest.

“Turn around and drop your pants,” Tony grumbled, his cheeks flushed and lips moist from the man running his tongue over them.

Peter did what he was told – his head dropping against the concrete of the wall, Tony’s body immediately pressing him flush against it. Fingers were pressed into his mouth a rough “suck” being mumbled against the back of his neck. Tony nibbled and bit on the skin there, his teeth digging into the flesh when he managed to pull enough of it into his mouth.

Wrapping his lips around the digits, Peter sucked them into his mouth as far as they would go – the angle of his head turned not the easiest to manage. Knowing this was probably the only lubrication he was going to get, he laved at them with his tongue liberally. He felt like a fish off the hook when Tony pulled his fingers away.

There wasn’t much warning before one finger was against his rim, the tip rubbing the tight muscle for just a second before breaching – the slide a little dry, but the burn just right. He’d always gotten off on a little pain with his pleasure, so he marveled in it.

The drag of two fingers was even better and before he knew it, Tony was spitting into his hand, fingers gone and replaced with a blunt cock head. Rough hands on his shoulders pulled him back as Tony thrust forward, the stretch pulling a moan out of his throat that he couldn’t hold in – no matter how hard he tried.

“That’s right, baby. Moan for me. Tell daddy how much you like it,” Tony babbled, his words enhanced by the sharp thrusts in and out of his stretched hole. It felt a little raw, the drag back and forth – yet, Tony’s cock hitting his prostate was more than enough to make up for it. Tony reached around and gripped his cock with a tight hand, his strokes timing nicely with the roll of his hips.

Slipping over the edge was sudden, Peter tossing his head back a bit to let out a rough groan – his muscles clenched tight and every pulse of cum drawn from him felt like pure liquid fire. A rough bite on his neck signaled Tony’s release a moment later, the man’s hips slamming into him hard and staying there, the pulse of the man’s cock pulling another long moan from Peter’s lips.

Lips on his neck pulled him out of his orgasm induced haze – the press of Tony’s facial hair against the skin there making him shutter. “That’s a good boy,” Tony mumbled, his hands gripping Peter tight around the middle. With one more tiny thrust, the older man pulled out – a gruff gasp leaving his lips. “Fuck,” Peter heard, a small smile slipping across his lips.

If that’s what Tony wanted in return for protecting him – Peter was more than happy to oblige.

Things stayed pretty regular for a couple of months. Peter joined Tony in the kitchen, his brain a perfect addition to the already masterfully run plan. Without the drugs in his system, Peter could think much clearer. He contributed a lot to Tony’s already impressive plans – the man praising him on near constant basis, sometimes more than one time a day if they were lucky enough to catch a few private moments. It wasn’t like being on the outside, but it wasn’t too bad, either.

Of course, things always get bad when complacency sets in. He’d been absentmindedly sitting at their usual table in the mess when the rival group’s leader sat down across from him. Peter kept his head down and continued to eat. His break was only a few minutes and he wasn’t about to pass up the corn – it was one of the only good things in the whole damn place. Steve cleared his throat a couple of times before Peter looked up at him, a blank look on his face.

“What can I do for your, Rogers?” Peter asked, his voice dry, dull – the pitch of it like he was bored, or something. Tony told him not to engage with the man, they’d been friends or partners at one point, but things went south. The older man didn’t give details and Peter didn’t ask. He simply looked up and tilted his head, the utensil they were allowed gripped tightly in his hand.

“I just wanted to have a little conversation. It’s not often someone comes in and charms the pants off of Tony Stark. Thought I’d get to know a little more about you.” His leer made Peter want to jump out of his seat – the look one that Quill used to throw at him when he’d meet up with him for fill-ups. He didn’t like it then and he sure as hell didn’t like it now. The hair on his neck stood up, his mouth suddenly tongue tied.

A strong hand wrapped around his neck before he could get any words out, the touch immediately recognizable – “He’s not interested, Rogers. As a matter of fact, you sitting in front of him is offending the fuck out of him, isn’t it, Pete?” Tony gripped his neck tightly, his fingers squeezing enough to have Peter tilting his head back a little, eyes wide as he looked at him.

“Yes sir,” he answered swiftly, brown eyes never leaving Tony.

He heard a scoff across the table and felt the whole thing move a little when Steve got up from it. Peter tilted his head down and watched him square up towards Tony, a bunch of emotions tumbling across his eyes in a flash. “You can’t protect him forever, Stark. I’ll find a way to bring you down.” Steve held Tony’s gaze for a moment longer, then turned around and stalked back to his own table, his cronies immediately circling around him.

Tony took a seat next to him and gripped his cheeks. It wouldn’t be long before a guard yelled at him to drop his hands and break apart, so he spoke quickly. “Don’t engage him again. Do you hear me? Rogers is trouble and you’re a target because of me.” His thumbs brushed over Peter’s cheeks quickly, the show of affection rare, especially out in the open like this. Peter blinked a couple of times and nodded, his head in a billion different directions. The small bubble of safety he’d been so immersed in suddenly felt close to popping, his heart slamming against his chest in fear for just a moment.

“I hear you, Tony. I won’t. Promise.” Peter knew the words were true, too. His only desire was to make it out of this alive. At this point in time, Tony offered him the most protection and he wasn’t stupid enough to step outside of it. Clint banged his baton against the edge of their table, effectively pulling them apart. “Hands to yourselves, gentleman,” the guard said, a quirk in his lip as he spoke.

He had that same look on his face when he stepped away from the entrance to the showers a little while later. Peter didn’t hear Bucky until his face was thrumming from the first punch. His foot slipped on the shower floor below him and he hit the tiles hard, his right side protesting his weight. He felt feet slam into his chest and stomach, the lower part of his back and his legs. Curling up into a ball, Peter tried to keep himself as small as possible, the less surface area for them to hit, the less impact he’d have to deal with.

They stopped when he physically couldn’t struggle any longer – all of his limbs like jelly now that the ache and throb of all of his injuries made him feel numb. It took way too long for him to sit up and when Clint eventually came back to his post by the door, he radioed in the incident with a disastrous look on his face. Peter would’ve scowled at him if his eyes weren’t swollen shut.

His stay in the hospital was brief, the stitches on the side of his cheek the worst of the damage. All of the bruises would have to heal on their own, the purple and yellow of them going to be there for a while, if the physician they let him see was to be believed. He got released between mess and yard time, so he stumbled behind his guard until he could see his cell, the place feeling like coming home after 36 hours in nothing but white, his arms and legs strapped to a bed.

The second the new guard on the block, Bruce, left him in the cell, Tony flew off the bed and pulled Peter into his arms. He held back the wince from Tony’s too tight grip, the feeling of the older man’s hands was worth the throb of the bruises that littered his body. Peter let his arms drape loosely around Tony’s hips, his entire being tired – his limbs were beaten, his brain was all over the place; all he wanted to do was lay on the hard mat of his bed and slip into oblivion for a while.

Tony must have noticed because he dragged Peter to his side of the room and followed him onto the bed. Peter rolled towards the wall and shut his eyes, the ability to be in any position other than on his back a true godsend. He felt Tony’s scruff brush against the back of his neck, then heavy arms pulled him until he was pressed against the older man’s chest.

“I took care of it, Pete. No one is ever going to touch you again. No one.” Tony’s voice was gruff, despite not raising above a whispered.

“You’re mine and no one touches what’s mine.”

#starkerfestivalsevents #starker #ironspider #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #au prompts #prison au #bobbie writes #fics #fan fics

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glorioustyphoontragedy · 3 years

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What does the fire retardant wadding protect?

The purpose of Fireproof Flame Retardant Wadding is to protect the parachute from the heat of the ejection charge. This is a type of cloth wadding that does not need to be replaced between flights. It saves money, especially on large diameter rockets that would need a lot of regular disposable wadding to protect the chute.

Simply so, what can I use for rocket wadding? By far the most commonly used alternative to recovery wadding is cellulose insulation. Cellulose is made from recycled paper and is treated with boric acid to be fire-resistant. Boric acid is a natural substance, but it is also poisonous.

Also Know, what does recovery wadding do? Recovery wadding is necessary to protect your parachute from being damaged. As your rocket's motor burns out, it emits a small burst or charge that pops the nose cone out, and deploys the parachute. Without the wadding, the chute could be burned.

Products that are handcrafted offer higher quality and more attention to detail apart from taking less energy than a mass production assembly line. This makes them more environmentally sustainable. Also, when you buy a handmade product, the local artisans or the locally-owned independent businesses creating them yield a higher percentage of their revenue to their communities than chains. Because Natural Health Materials are what they are – natural, they are not made in factories. The option of customizing your purchase by dealing directly with the artisans when you purchase natural products makes your choices open to tweaking certain aspects of the product precisely to fit your needs.

There are two sides of the acoustical coin, if you will. There are products that absorb echo within a room, and there are products that will block or stop/reduce sound transmission. There are some panels that will do a bit of both. These are generally called composites, but for now, let’s keep it simple. Sound-Absorbing And Energy-Saving Materials are used to improve the sound quality inside of the room in which they are installed. They are usually installed on the walls or ceiling as a finished surface in the room. Products that are used to block sound are used INSIDE of the wall or ceiling – as part of the construction material. They can be dense, heavy materials or materials that will decouple the wall assembly – and due to their density, often reflect the sound back into the room rather than the sound penetrating through to the other side. Absorbing the echo in a room and blocking or reducing sound are done in two very different ways and with different products and approaches.

In fact, some people soundproofing a room on the cheap side even hang moving blankets on the wall to create a DIY Sound Absorbing Padding. If you are interested in a more professional or finished look as well as performance, there are fantastic sound-absorbing products on the market.

In order to keep the neighbors from complaining, you are going to have to build a room within a room and float the whole thing on a layer or two of rubber so that this new room is not touching the floor. The tricky part becomes getting fresh air into the space. I would suggest using a 2×6 stud for the walls with a layer or two of 5/8” sheetrock (drywall) on the outside, some kind of Thermal Insulation on the inside and then two more layers of 5/8” sheetrock. Install a heavy, solid core door and be sure to use sealant to seal the rough opening to the studs. You are going to need to build some kind of lined duct or chamber to pull or push fresh air into the room as well as to return it to the rest of the air in the apartment. If this isn’t done correctly, it can quickly negate the walls ability to block sound.

Filter And Filter Materials are usually made of spun fiberglass material or from pleated paper or cloth enclosed in a cardboard frame. Its basic function is to clean the air that circulates through your heating and cooling system. Filters trap and hold many types of particulates and contaminants that could affect your health and comfort, including:

Dust and dirt

Pollen

Mold and mold spores

Fibers and lint

Metal, plaster or wood particles

Hair and animal fur

Filtration usually occurs when expended air is brought back into the HVAC equipment to be conditioned and distributed again. The air is forced through the filter, and the material removes particulates and other contaminants from the air.

Meltblown polypropylene is used as the middle layer of many certified medical masks and in the manufacture of respirators such as N95s: it filters very well. It remains in short supply, with many distributors in Canada fully committed to July 2021. It is not intended to be washed, though novel programs for limited reuse of respirators have been developed for hospitals.

Because of the supply issue and because it is not washable, we do not recommend using melt-blown polypropylene for reusable non-medical masks.

Disposable non-medical Filter Fabric For Facemask intended to be inserted into pocket masks are sold commercially and may contain melt blown, spun bond and other components; it is not always possible to determine their composition from the packaging or advertisements. Currently, no standards define their use in Canada. They are designed to be discarded after each use.

Spunlace polypropylene tends to be naturally springy and in contrast to spunbond and meltblown, it absorbs liquids. Some wet wipes are produced by spunlace methods. However, the material used is often not polypropylene but rather viscose-polyester blend, to increase absorbency. The composition of the wet ingredients is clearly specified on packaging, but many wipes do not include the fibre composition of the material. These materials are not intended to be laundered and reused. Some wipes contain active ingredients that might be harmful if inhaled. For all these reasons, we do not recommend using dried-out wipes as Eco-Friendly Materials filters.

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mememanufactorum · 4 years

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Ace Combat Zero quotes

* Feel free to share as you please, no credit needed. Change pronouns or anything else as desired.

“Oh, him? Yeah, I know him.”

“Did you know there are three kinds of aces? Those who seek strength, those who live for pride, and those who can read the tide of battle.”

“It was a cold and snowy day…”

“It’s starting to come down.”

“You’d better have our pay ready and waiting.”

“Be ready to pay up. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“[name], I got a feeling you and I are gonna get along just fine. Buddy.”

“It all started on that snowy day.”

“My first impression was… He had potential.”

“I forgot about my job and read everything I had on hand.”

“We were all on an equal footing, fighting under the same conditions. No affiliations or ranks to hinder us.”

“The only rule of engagement was to survive.”

“We WILL survive, [name].”

“I figured you’d say that. This is gonna cost you extra.”

“Unlike you mercenaries, I fight for a real cause.”

“The ones who survive are those who fight for their convictions.”

“Dead men’s words hold no meaning.”

“Those mercenaries are crazy!”

“He hesitated. A vulnerability that can be exploited.”

“I was certain I would win.”

“We protect the meek and give our lives for honor. But that does not mean that we are generous… Since generosity will cost us our lives.”

“Well, then, let’s have some fun.”

“I figured it was just temporary chaos and it’d be over by the time I got there.”

“Every now and then, guys like that appear on a battlefield. Someone special, y’know?”

“War is something fought on the desk of politicians. As long as they win in the end, that’s all that matters.”

“But for us, it’s a matter of survival. In order to survive, you need to be able to analyze the situation in an instant.”

“Time to hunt some wild dogs.”

“Looks like we were just a couple of decoys.”

“Yo, Buddy, you still alive?”

“Back then, I was bursting with pride.”

“Staying where it was nice and warm wouldn’t accomplish anything.”

“Whatever it may be, the fact remains I was forced to walk a different path in life than the one I had envisioned.”

“They only fight for their own power and fame.”

“[name], let’s do this right. We got the pride it takes to win!”

“They’ve got a reason to fight. This battle’s over.”

“Let’s take care of them.”

“It takes time to admit you lost.”

“[name], you hear those people screaming for freedom? That’s where we come in!”

“It felt like he could see right through me. He was always one step ahead of me.”

“I didn’t feel like I was fighting with a human being.”

“I wanted to end that battle as quickly as possible.”

“It signals peace, but to me, they are the sounds of death.”

“Everyone is a hero and a villain. And no one knows who is the victim and who is the aggressor.”

“And what is ‘peace’?”

“Looks like we live to see another day, [name].”

“Mercenaries like us are disposable to the guys in charge.”

“But in the end, we survived.”

“When are you planning to buy those flowers?”

“Wait around too long and another guy’s gonna steal her away from you, you know.”

“This is no time to talk about my personal life!”

“Yo Buddy, you’ve got everyone fired up and believing in miracles.”

“Right on! Now that’s what I call teamwork!”

“[name], you hear that warm welcome? It’s the sweet sound of victory.”

“Not bad for a group of misfits, huh?”

“Dammit, there’s too many of them! We can’t handle them all!”

“Time to dive into the fireworks!”

“Looks like you’ve still got the touch.”

“It’s happening just as you thought.”

“It’s about time we got out of this dead-end job.”

“Not just yet.”

“They’re attacking without mercy. Do they plan on burning everything?”

“He can’t be human!”

“He’s like a demon…”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I fight for peace. That’s what I’m up here for.”

“While you’re up here ‘fighting for peace,’ tons of blood is being shed on the ground. Some ‘peace,’ kid.”

“And I’m here to put an end to that.”

“You think you can stop the bloodshed by shedding more blood?”

“Flying with all those ideas floating around in your head is gonna get you killed.”

“Anyway, I’d really gone out with a bang this time.”

“It’s a scary thought, but it also makes you feel alive.”

“But it gets pretty lonely up there all by myself.”

“Guess they’ve come to pick on the dead again.”

“This is the worst kind of support we could hope for.”

“Those mercenaries smell of money and death. They’re nothing but vultures… Scavenging for profit through the blood of others.”

“Sorry about the accommodations. It goes with the business. I’m not active during the day.”

“Something unexpected happened.”

“I figured the least I could do was take them down in return.”

“Of course, that was where my luck ran out.”

“Though I guess it’s hard for bad guys like us to die.”

“The real heroes always manage to die first.”

“We live the rest of our lives in hell.”

“But, then again, being alive is proof that we were good.”

“This will be your final lesson.”

“I’ll show him he’s only digging his own grave.”

“What’s important on the battlefield is to let go of hate, to survive, and to adhere to the rules you’ve set for yourself.”

“There was no more need for an old soldier like me.”

“Hatred cannot be the only motivation for war. It only brings about more pointless deaths.”

“I will never overcome that grief.”

“I’ll just look on from here.”

“He was unstoppable.”

“It didn’t matter where the battlefield was, the man had complete trust in his own powers.”

“He was born for battle, a Demon Lord who struck down all opposition.”

“He was born for combat. It was no wonder they called him a Demon Lord.”

“That said, it was hell trying to keep up with him.”

“He was cool-headed and proud. A combat professional.”

“Maybe the man was blessed by the goddess of war.”

“Before long, everyone had taken notice of him.”

“People wanted to burn his image in their memories.”

“Hell, they weren’t the only ones.”

“Learn to accept it, kid. This is war.”

“There’s no mercy in war. It’s a collision of powers.”

“Even war has a set of rules to follow!”

“Damn them all…”

“Nobody knew why they were fighting anymore.”

“All I felt at that point was sadness for the world.”

“You gonna get remarried to your girl?”

“We’re both getting married for the first time!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch up.”

“Nah… I’m just sad.”

“There’s no impossible jobs for us mercenaries!”

“Your fairy godmother’s here, Cinderella.”

“How can you say that after what just happened?”

“Today is your lucky day, [name]. Like your birthday.”

“And you’re here to pull me off in a magical carriage, huh? To hell I suppose…”

“Buddy… I’ve found a reason to fight.”

“This is where we go our separate ways.”

“And I like to play polo. You know, the game with the horses?”

“…Maybe we should get going now.”

“I should be able to do that too.”

“This war should be over already.”

“Why would they do this after all that’s happened?”

“I’m going to put an end to this war.”

“We’ll decide when this war ends… And now is not the time.”

“Today is a day of hope.”

“We have to go into battle.”

“Are they being stupid or is it just part of a plan?”

“The rest is up to you.”

“Our lives might’ve been different.”

“I will never forget his overwhelming power.”

“I returned alive from that battlefield.”

“There’s no meaning there now that he’s gone.”

“He soon passed away, leaving me behind.”

“We were only able to spend a short time together in peace and quiet.”

“But those who hearts are in the sky will always return to the sky.”

“And he died there, never to return to me.”

“It’s an awful place, but the fastest shortcut.”

“Don’t even think about heading back.”

“What are you fighting for?”

“I will eliminate the false hero.”

“You will make a worthy opponent.”

“What are you doing?! The war’s ended long ago!”

“It’s time for a perfect world without restrictions or wars.”

“He’s going to destroy everything!”

“I’ll follow [name] to the end!”

“I thought I was watching magic.”

“I’d never felt fear toward an opponent.”

“The same went for my ideals. I wasn’t afraid to take on even an entire country.”

“But when I was fighting him, something felt different.”

“There’s always a war somewhere and I’m sure he’s on some battlefield somewhere fighting even now.”

“He’ll always have a place to live.”

“Let the victor be justice.”

“I was hoping to meet you under different circumstances.”

“The table is surrounded by politicians who have never placed a foot on the battlefield.”

“It’s a necessary discussion to build a peaceful world.”

“It’s a disgusting squabble on who gets the largest share of the pie and that’s why it needs to end.”

“It is for that duty that we raised the King.”

“Let’s begin.”

“This place is no longer a battlefield.”

“Clashing greed is the cause of all conflict.”

“Style and skill does not matter in battle.”

“We will carry out the new creation of destruction through the power of righteousness.”

“Territories, peoples, authorities… All will be liberated.”

“Neither nations nor nationalities have meaning.”

“We will erase these unnecessary borders.”

“The world will change.”

“He’s not destroying anything unnecessarily.”

“This darkness and that little window are my entire world now.”

“I’m actually rather fond of it.”

“The darkness envelops me in a borderless world, a world with no boundaries.”

“No matter what the desired outcome is, the world can still change as long as people expand their knowledge and desire change.”

“If I’m with you, I know I can do it.”

“I’ll follow your lead.”

“We’re gonna stop it, no matter what.”

“I never want to see that barren land again.”

“We’re gonna be rich!”

“We’re gonna be heroes!”

“I’m gonna propose to her when I get back. I even bought flowers!”

“So, have you found a reason to fight yet?”

“Here comes the snow…”

“Those who survive a long time on the battlefield start to think they’re invincible.”

“I bet you do too, Buddy.”

“Can you see any borders from here? What has borders given us?”

“We’re going to start over from scratch.”

“It’s pretty ironic, Buddy. A couple of dogs like us fighting the last battle.”

“There’s no mercy in war. People live and people die. That’s all there is to it.”

“You fired up? Come shoot me down.”

“It’s time.”

“Too bad, Buddy.”

“This twisted game needs to be reset.”

“You’re the only one who can stop him.”

“I pray for your success.”

“You and I are opposite sides of the same coin.”

“When we face each other, we can finally see our true selves.”

“There may be a resemblance, but we never face the same direction.”

“Fire away, coward!”

“Come on!”

“Come on, let’s go back home.”

“We wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting for you.”

“Maybe this was one path to achieve peace.”

“I should have died that day. But I didn’t.”

“I felt an unbearable sadness when I witnessed that landscape.”

“It may be true that the world has no need of borders. But would getting rid of them really change anything?”

“The world won’t change for the better unless we trust people.”

“Trust is vital in a peaceful world.”

“But that’ll never happen.”

“I want to see for myself what borders really mean and what their volition really is…”

“I may not find what I’m looking for but I still wanna try.”

“Anyway, that’s what I’ve come to believe and I think that’s enough.”

“Yo Buddy. Still alive?”

“And thanks friend. See you again.”

“I was never able to find out what kind of a person he really was.”

“But whenever they talked about him, they always had a slight smile on their faces.”

“That, perhaps, might be my answer.”

#Ace Combat Zero #Ace Combat #roleplay meme #roleplay prompt #rp meme #rp prompt

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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

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I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 13 - In Which Charles Vane Wanders Towards Domesticity Via Bareknuckle Boxing And Jack Feels Feelings

Charles has been... not ignoring Jack – he's never cold or brusque – brusquer than usual, anyway. But he is giving Jack space that he's never really given him before. Space that they've never really had, living in doorless squalid squats always in arms reach of each other and often closer. But it's fairly easy to stay out of each other's way in a house this big.

And Jack has been exerting plenty of effort to stay out of Charles's way. Unfortunately, Charles has noticed – how could he not, when Jack routinely followed him like a particularly persistent shadow. And damn Anne for pointing that fact out, for now Jack can't help but acknowledge the truth of his long infatuation – there, that's a good word for it – infatuation, not crush, no matter what Anne says.

Anyway, Jack's is pretty sure Charles thinks he's is mad at him when in fact the problem is that entirely the opposite is true – Jack is lovestruck and giddy in Charles's mere presence. Practically doodling little hearts with his and Charles's names written inside them in pink glitter gel pen like it's still the nineties and he's just discovered the magic of perfectly coiffed boy bands. Which Chaz would tease Jack mercilessly about if he ever found out – tease him for both his teenage taste in music and for his feelings for Charles.

So Jack has continued to cloister himself in his workroom with Christine to work on his next fashion show. An activity that isn't quite as much of a safe harbor after the conversation Anne had with her. Something about managing Jack when he gets in a “mood” - as if Jack has moods! And if he does, as a rich eccentric creative genius type person, he's more than entitled to whatever moods he cares to have. So there!

Charles has been out of the house more often than not over the past few weeks. Partly because Jack's been holed up with Christine, putting together another fashion show. And every time Charles has tried to butt in – to remind Jack to eat something, damn it, or to just take a break – he's been very summarily excused by Jack. And ok fine Jack's in a tizzy, what else is new? But it's not like he really wants to be around for that shit.

And. And. And he's got that itch under his skin that means he needs either a fight or a fuck.

Fucking's off the table, cuz he's Jack's pretend boyfriend and they're supposed to be monogamous. Not that he couldn't find someone reasonably discrete and reasonably removed from the world they're moving in now. The world of rich marks who think a night of slumming it means going to clubs that only have twenty pound cocktails on the menu rather than fifty. So he could find someone who'd never have a chance of encountering one of the rick fucks who'd know him as Jack's boy toy and not as a scourge of the streets.

Hell, he could go find a lower class prostitute who doesn't give half a fuck about anything about him other than that he's got cash to pay for their services. Christine may even have been amenable before Jack had driven her crazy with all his ridiculous demands. But he had and now she flees the house at the end of every day, desperate to be away from his shit. Or maybe she's got something to rush too, rather than away from – Charles doesn't know or really care to. Regardless, that's that plan scuppered.

Of course, there's always other fish in the sea. Or corner boys and girls looking for a John. Christine is just the most available. But there's another reason he doesn't go seek someone else out – another prostitute or even just someone looking for a casual fuck after a long day of being a boring corporate drone.

It's because Charles knows now, after months of collecting information and blackmail on various rich shitstains, just how far some of them are willing to go to see their enemies brought low. Hell, Flint's boyfriend – or husband or whatever their actual relationship is with one another – Thomas Hamilton's own father had him exiled. Left him homeless and destitute and unacknowledged simply because his relationship with Flint might someday be a liability to his business.

All the so-called civilized motherfuckers are so ready to toss aside anyone they think of as lesser and then climb the pile of corpses to even more wealth and power. And Charles refuses to hand any one of those sorry fucks any leverage against him or Jack or any one of their crew. Refuses to see their plans, everything they've worked for, thrown away for a quick fuck.

So Charles keeps himself company. And starts looking for a fight.

He's not so far separated from his days on the streets that he doesn't still remember how to find the underground bare knuckle boxing ring that floats through London's abandoned warehouses and highrises. The place where all the flotsam and jetsam of the criminal underbelly congregate to see a little blood spilt. Or to spill it.

And Charles is not so far separated from his days on the streets that the guy watching the door – some big hulking bearded fucker who dwarfs Charles – doesn't gape and stare but still let him in. In to the derelict parking garage that was meant to serve a set of luxury condominiums that were never built and so the land remained solely as a tax dodge for an absentee landlord to launder his actual business's shady money through.

Charles descends into the dank depths of the service corridors underneath the garage. And he stands face to face with a ghost.

Some fucking idiot, with more money than taste – not that Charles himself is a paragon of that, but some of Jack's obsessive rants about good design sense had to have rubbed off on him – some stupid fuck has installed a huge black door, mirror shiny, at the entrance to the illegal fighting ring. And it reflects his face from endless murky depths.

He looks like a dead man.

He looks like he did before. Before prison and before Jack taking over the crew and before Max and before playing pretend. Before dressing like a rich fuck almost too stupid and self obsessed to notice anything beyond his own reflection in the mirror.

He looks strong. He looks casually cruel – looks like a man whose only goal is to gather strength about himself and to crush out weakness. He looks ready to spill blood and have his own spilled.

Charles pushes open the stupid, ugly, ostentatious door.

His reflection may not look changed, but everyone there, all the hard fuckers, all the street trash, they know what happened to him. They know where he's been and what – who – he's been doing. So he gets a lot of shit on first walking in, shit for being a poof and a dandy. For moving out of the streets and into a house – a big posh house and not a crumbling council estate. But mostly he takes shit for him and Jack being bum buddies.

Cuz news like that's always going to travel right down to the lightless, scummy depths of the lowest places in London. Especially when it's about someone like him. Someone strong, since they see that as a weakness. Someone masculine, since they see that as inherently emasculating.

No one had been surprised about Jack swinging both ways, for instance. He looks like a poof and acts like a poof, no big mystery there. And him so unapologetically larger than life like he is, it's not like he kept it quiet. Although the street's acceptance of him might have had something to do with Anne always lurking at his shoulder, ready to slit an adversary's throat before they even knew it had been cut. And with Charles too backing Jack when he'd been in charge of the crew, making it known that if anyone fucked with him they'd have Charles Vane to deal with.

Charles himself, though. That is a surprise. One that ripples around the ring of fighters like the wave that pulls back before a tsunami is unleashed.

Charles steps into the center of the ring. A dare. A challenge.

And once he's knocked a few dozen heads together, knocks a few dozen teeth in. Once he's standing bloody and bruised but unbowed, with his vanquished enemies at his feet. Well, they all leave it alone after that.

Cuz he's still Charles fucking Vane.

And he feels that more clearly here than in the posh streets of Camden or the West End they now frequent. Feels it in the brutality of the fight for his place here, his life. Feels it in the friendlier sparring that replaces it once he's proved he's worthy to stand among them – sparring no less brutal than his earlier fights, but much more full of camaraderie and less full of a genuine desire to kill one another. And it's nice to feel like his old self, to know he's still him even after everything that's changed.

But that doesn't mean it's not nice to go home at the end of the night, bruised and bloody and with his blood finally cooled and settled under his skin. Nice to emerge from the dank underground into the grey miserable filthy dawn of London streets and know he's got a home to go to.

Jack... Well, he's not waiting up for Charles, because that would imply that he's anxious about where he's gone. And Charles is a grown man, more than capable of going wherever he'd like at whatever hour he'd like.

But he may admit to waking up a bit earlier than usual and, when he passes by Charles's room and finds his bed empty and unslept in, drinking his morning coffee in the sitting room that faces the street so that he can see Charles first thing when he arrives.

Not to be a nag or a mother hen or anything. But simply because he finds he's rather missed having Charles around – barging into his space and interrupting his work and generally making a nuisance of himself. And it's Jack's own fault Charles has started going out more. It's Jack who's been driving him away. But Jack misses him.

And Jack's going to nut up and tell Charles he's missed him. Because he doesn't want to keep going on this way. And his feelings aren't Charles's problem and Jack never should have made them be.

So he's going to fix this, he is...

And then he sees Charles coming up the street. At first, Jack thinks he's just drunk – or fucked up. He's moving a little strangely, like his legs won't quite carry him in a straight line. But as Charles gets closer, Jack can see that he's dead sober – and that he's been beaten to a pulp. His hair is stuck to his face with blood from the cut on his forehead and he's got one hell of a bruise blooming on his cheek and his knuckles are split all to hell.

He looks wrecked. He looks almost as bad as he had after he'd killed Albinus.

Jack runs out to him, where he's standing looking lost and alone out on the pavement.

Charles smiles at Jack as he approaches - Jack who must make a ridiculous figure, rushing outside in nothing but a silk robe and fuzzy slippers - and his teeth are stained red with blood and the smile is really more of a baring of teeth.

“Chaz.” And there Jack stops, because he's really not certain how to go on.

“Jack.” And Charles's voice is steady, even if his footsteps aren't.

Jack places an arm under Charles's and helps him towards the house, towards the hanging open front door and the warmth and safety beyond. “Charles, what the fuck happened?”

Charles slumps against the hallway wall while Jack turns to close the door. “Got in a fight.” And he's grinning up at Jack, looking absolutely fucking unrepentant.

Jack throws his hands up in exasperation. “Really Chaz? You got in a fight? I never would have guessed.”

Charles's grin just gets even more smug.

“Who, pray tell, were you fighting? And why?”

Charles moves further into the house, to the hallway bathroom, where he starts dabbing at his cuts with a delicate hand towel. And yeah, that stain's probably never coming out. But it wasn't his decision to buy white towels, Jack. “Just some street toughs. And as for why...” He shrugs. “Sometimes a man just wants a fight. You know how it is.”

Jack certainly does not know how it is. He's always had the philosophy that fights are to be avoided at all costs – he would never seek out a, a recreational skirmish.

And Charles seems to realize that, because he turns away from Jack and begins dabbing in earnest at the cut on his forehead with a now dampened – and frighteningly bloody - hand towel.

Jack purses his lips but squeezes into the bathroom alongside him. “Here, Charles. You'd better let me do that.”

#black sails #charles vane/jack rackham #anne bonny/max #i travel troubled oceans #chapter 13

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