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devildomimagines · 4 years ago

Note

Could u do another "I'm not (blank) enough" requests but instead of MC saying something negative it'd be the brothers saying they aren't enough at something?

This was an interesting request, thanks Anon! I'm sorry it took me a while to get through it but I really had to dig deep to figure out what these arrogant, all powerful demons could feel insecure about.

Here is my other piece Anon is referencing: "I'm Not _______ Enough."

I changed it up a bit from the original but I hope you like it! Also I got carried away and this got pretty long so the other brothers are under the cut lol.

"Am I _______ Enough?"

Belphegor

“Am I reliable enough?”

You had woken up from your nap to his words, and asked “What?” While wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Can you depend on me?” He reworded the question but didn’t make eye contact.

“Belphie?” You guided his face to look at yours.

“Actually never mind,” he backed out of the conversation and the bed.

“Wait,” You sat up and pushed out of the bed too, already missing the warmth.

Once in front of him, you stated, “You’re reliable!”

His blush was slight but you caught it before he amended, “I know that I’m not always hanging off you like Mammon or Asmo-“

“That’s ok!” You interrupted, “Sorry,” you quickly apologized when he gave you a look.

“But I know that with your sin, it gets physically uncomfortable to be awake for long periods like how Beel gets after not getting enough food. I know if I ever needed you,” you took his hand, “you’d be there.”

He took a moment to let the scene sink in before squeezing your hand, giggling, and roughing up your hair, “That’s right, bed head,” He teased.

“Yours isn’t any better!” You moved to do the same to him but he dodged.

The two of you continued to play fight but didn’t let go of the other's hand. Belphie seemed lightened by your confirmation and you enjoyed the rare bout of playful activity with the youngest.

Beelzebub

“Am I warm enough?”

“Heck yeah! You’re like a space heater!”

He laughed, “Thanks, MC.” But his smile faded too quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand?” You went from sitting across from him to sitting next to him at the table, “Do you not want to be a space heater?”

That got him smiling again, “No, that’s not it, I guess I meant warm like friendly?”

“Well then it’s a resounding yes, you’re super friendly Beel!” You gave his back a rub and a pat for punctuation.

“Oh… ok,” he went back to his snack which you assumed he would but his response wasn’t sitting right with you.

“Do you not believe me?” You looked up at him with your best puppy dog pout.

Congrats, your cuteness made the Avatar of Gluttony choke! He coughed and pounded on his chest with a closed fist.

You offered your apology and he waved it off as he took some gulps of his drink.

“No I do believe you MC.” He started covering your hand on the table with his and before your hand was completely enveloped he stopped.

“What is it then?” You prodded.

“Just a teammate commented on how I made chills run down his spine with just my stare.”

“Ah, I think Asmo would know that as a resting b*tch face,” you scratched your chin sagely

He frowned, “I can’t do anything about that, that's just how my face is.”

“Exactly! So don’t stress it, he’s still your teammate and friend, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Beel mulled it over and you could practically see the weight of it rise off his shoulders as he sat up straighter and accepted it.

“There he is,” you thought as he exuded an easy confidence but your thoughts were disrupted when he pulled you into an embrace. He whispered near your ear, “Thanks.”

“Who could think this wasn’t warm?” You thought as you snuggled into his hold.

Asmodeus

“Am I attentive enough?”

“What brought that up?” You questioned looking up from your spot on his bed. It wasn’t like Asmo to show his insecurities.

“Just some gossip going around,” He tried to minimize the claims and continued fussing with his hair.

“Oh, well, you know how gossip gets, you just have to ignore it and it’ll go away,” you repeated the same advice he had given you when you first arrived in the Devildom and there were vicious rumors and tabloid articles written about the exchange program participants.

“But am I?!”

The hurt look on his face paired with the desperation in his question made it plainly obvious this meant more to him than he wanted to let on.

“Of course-”

Asmo cut you off, “MC, you have to be deadly honest right now.”

“You’re attentive Asmo,” You confirmed without a shadow of a doubt.

He chewed his lip and cheek debating the statement.

You got up from the bed and came to stand in front of Asmo. You cupped the cheek he was chewing on and he stopped.

With a small nudge you made him swivel to look back in the mirror, “What were the rumors saying?” Your own curiosity running wild, what could bring Asmo to this?

Surprisingly Asmo looked away from the reflection of you two to answer in a small voice, “That if I didn’t pay attention to you, they’d sweep in and take you for themselves.”

That stunned you for a second, you didn’t think it would involve you. “Well first of all, I don’t even know them, how are they going to even get close to me at this point?”

Asmo considered this, you were always with him or one of his brothers.

“Second, you’re always paying attention to me, you probably know my facial expressions better than I do,” you laughed and he couldn’t help a small snort of his own.

“Third, even on days when you’re stressed, or excited about a new make-up launch and your energy is elsewhere, you always,” you squeezed his arm for emphasis, “ALWAYS check in on me.”

Asmo bit his lip once more but this time holding back a smile. He clearly couldn’t hold it back when he locked you in a hug and squealed your name.

Satan

“Am I patient enough?”

You knew this was something that he consciously worked on so you quickly confirmed, “Yes,” then turned the page of your book.

He was a little shocked at your quick resolution and not totally satisfied. He closed his book and asked, “There was never a time when you think I couldn’t have been more patient?”

“Well sure, but I think that about myself too.”

That was also surprising to Satan, “How? You’re even more patient than me.”

“I’m only human,” You shrugged, as you closed your own book, recognizing this was going to be more of a discussion.

“And I’m only demon?” Satan returned sarcastically. He did not appreciate the turn of phrase.

“Sorry, I meant, I’m not perfect, no one is. You can’t hold yourself to an impossible standard because you’ll only be destined to be disappointed when you don’t live up to it.” You paused for the idea to settle with him.

He contemplated the sentiment.

“The way I see it,” you continued, “As long as you’re trying to do better then that’s what matters.”

Satan weighed that thought as well.

“And there is an even bigger secret with patience that not a lot of people know,” you baited.

Satan asked “And what’s that?” Hook, line, and sinker.

“I don’t know if you’re ready,” you taunted and reopened your book. If there was one thing you knew you could entice Satan with, it was some kind of hidden knowledge.

He moved across the room and closed your book in your hand for you.

You looked up at him looming over you with a sweet smile.

He smiled back at you, knowing you were playing with him. “And what’s that?” He repeated but you knew it was more of a command this time.

“Fine, I’ll share the secret with you so listen well.”

He started to nod before you caught his face in your hands. His eyebrows shot up to wordlessly question your action but didn’t break the silence, his proof he was listening.

“People don’t always realize that the most important part of patience is…” you paused and savored the interest in Satan’s eyes, “that you have to afford yourself the same patience you give to others.”

His brows furrowed trying to unravel the words in his mind.

While he did so, you pulled his head down slightly so you could give him a quick kiss on the forehead. Then pat his cheek and released him.

He took a step back, almost in a daze, you certainly gave him something to think about.

Leviathan

“Am I supportive enough?”

You looked up from the manga you were reading and Levi was staring down at the manga in his hand. His hands were holding the sides tightly as he waited for your response.

“How so?” You prompted.

“L-like this,” Levi pushed the manga towards you. You scanned the panels, the scene being depicted looked like it was one where the love interest was cheering on the main character while they were participating in a sports festival.

“Well you’re not like this,” you had to be honest and you could see he was already starting to sulk, “but you’re supportive in your own way.”

He tsked and took the manga back.

“Levi, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you apologized.

“It’s fine,” Levi turned the page, “I know I’m a gross otaku shut in.”

“No, stop.” You closed the manga, you dug this hole so it was time to climb out.

He listened and looked over at you, annoyed.

“You’re supportive Levi. There are different ways to be supportive!”

He rolled his eyes, not believing you.

Alright this guy wants to play hardball, you could play with the best of them. “You always make sure that I’ve eaten and slept, even if you haven’t. For as long as we’ve had a pact, you’ve always come to my defense even though I know you hate confrontation. When I find a new show, game or book that I’m interested in, you always take the time to learn about it yourself so I can talk to someone about it.”

By the end, Levi’s face was red, his ears were red, you could swear his hands were even shaking a little bit.

“So sure, you’re not yelling your support from the roof of the House of Lamentation like that character,” you took one of his hands and his eyes darted between your face and your interlaced hands, “but I appreciate your quiet kind of support.”

Leviathan.exe has stopped working. It took a solid 5 minutes to regain his voice.

“M-M-MC!” he whined, “That’s so embarrassing!” He slumped down to hide his face but didn’t dare remove his hand from yours.

“Was it super effective?” You laughed at your joke.

He groaned from his drooped state but he squeezed your hand and you knew that it was.

Mammon

“Am I humble enough?”

At first, you have to bite your tongue to keep from outright laughing.

Surely the demon who regards himself as “The Great Mammon” would see the irony in asking this.

But he was quiet and reflective, a stark contrast to his usual self.

You sat down next to him on the sofa in the living room, with a pat on his back you opted to offer what you thought he wanted to hear, “Sure you are buddy.”

“Are ya messing with me?” of all times for Mammon to be observant.

You were as bad a liar as he was so when you looked away and scratched your cheek instead of answering Mammon knew you were lying.

He sighed and his shoulders dropped as he caught his head in his hands.

“Well you don’t have to be humble!” You defended, feeling bad for your white lie earlier.

He peeked up at you and you took the opportunity to stand up in front of him, “You’re like the third strongest demon in all of Devildom! You should be proud of that!”

He rolled his eyes but you could see a shadow of a smile play on his lips.

“Not only are you strong but you’re very caring, not only to your brothers but to me too,” you suggested and on queue Mammon flushed.

“I’m not,” he tried to deny.

“Oh that’s not true. Remember when Belphie ruined that painting and you took the fall for it?”

His eyes opened wide in shock, “How did you-”

“Or that time when I was sick and you took such good care of me?” You added in a sing-song tone.

“Shuddup!” Mammon was now standing and placed a hand over your mouth as he looked around for his brothers. He looked back at you, “I got a reputation to uphold, y’know.”

After a muffled laugh, you pulled his hand away, “What I’m saying is you don’t have to be modest.”

“Yeah I guess when you put it that way,” He rubbed the back of his head considering.

“So what’s on the agenda for the day for The Great Mammon?”

He squinted his eyes at your teasing tone but smirked and grabbed your hand to drag you along. You went willingly with a snicker.

Lucifer

“Am I compassionate enough?”

He didn’t look up from the paperwork he was reviewing when he posed the question to you.

At first you tilted your head and wondered if he was even addressing you.

When he did finally look up, you knew he was waiting for your answer.

“Yeah, I think so?” You didn’t mean to phrase it as a question but were more concerned with how this even came up.

“You think so?” Lucifer repeated incredulously.

“Yes,” you reinforced, “where’s this coming from?” You were taking a risk in questioning Lucifer, there was probably a 50/50 chance he would actually answer.

It was rare that he would even voice a question about his character.

He frowned and went back to his paperwork. You figured that was the end of the conversation, this being the 50% of the time that he would not answer. You went back to perusing his record collection to find something to play.

“Simeon mentioned how ruthless I’ve become.”

You looked back over at Lucifer. He looked more tired than he did just a moment ago. Simeon’s comment must have been wearing on him.

You picked a record you knew he liked and put it on before walking over to his desk.

He sighed, put down his pen and rubbed his eyes.

You leaned against the desk with your arms crossed and he faced you, the weariness even more apparent up close.

“Can I be honest with you?” you asked.

He grimaced, already thinking the worst but nodded.

“I think your ruthlessness comes from a compassionate place.”

From his one raised eyebrow, you could tell that wasn’t what he was expecting and he was waiting for your explanation.

“For example,” you began, “you care about your brothers, so when you punish them, it’s for their own good or to save them from a worse fate. You might not admit this one, but you’ve become sympathetic to Diavolo’s moods and disposition and so acting in accordance with how it will reflect on him and enforcing those standards has become second nature, hasn’t it?” He looked away.

You knew he wouldn’t answer that so you looked away yourself and continued, “You may have at first picked me as a candidate for the exchange program because of my connection to Lilith and housed me at the request of Diavolo,” you laughed at what you were about to say for the first time out loud, “but since getting to know me, I like to think that you’ve had a change of heart and genuinely care about my well-being despite those factors.”

There was a moment of silence and you felt your face heat up, nervous that maybe you overestimated your importance.

Before you could look back at him, he had stood up and enclosed you in a hug. You smiled, uncrossed your arms and hugged him back.

He was humming along with the song so you made one more bold choice and started swaying in time with the rhythm. He chuckled, shifted to hold one of your hands, and properly led you in a dance around the room.

You hoped his light footsteps were a reflection of how light his heart was feeling.

All signs of the weariness from moments ago were completely gone.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #my writing #anon squad

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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years ago

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 34

Man these parts are getting harder and harder to churn out. A lot of plot points converging and real life ramping up. Hopefully you all enjoy this. Please comment your thoughts on the chapter. And if you really liked it, Reblog it. Thats the best way to get others to see it. Also, Please let me know your thoughts. Your comments fuel me.

(Master Post)

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade surveyed the classroom. Her former classmates now her masked servants. It was fitting how they were all silent. Before, they listened to her because she told them exactly the things they wanted to hear, now they listened because she had power over them. It was kind of poetic in a way.

She looked across the classroom, she realized that there seemed to be more people missing than she initially realized.

“We are missing someone. Aside from Marinette, who is missing?”

The controlled classmates looked amongst themselves. Trying to figure out who was the one that was not in the class.

“Is it Chloé?” Miracular inquired, trying to answer her master’s request.

The akuma looked around.

“Huh… Oh yea, she isn’t here. Well she isn’t important. I was thinking someone else.” Masquerade answered. She looked to her most recently made akuma servant.

The Bubbler, the akumatized version of Nino stood motionless. As if he was not registering what was going on.

“Bubbler? Do you know who is missing?”

The multicolored akuma said nothing. Not even looking in the direction of the mask maiden.

“Bubbler! I order you to answer me!” She commanded with fiery rage.

The akuma turned to face his master, now responding.

“Adrien is missing.” The bubbler answered, his voice robotic and as emotive as a speak and spell.

“So, Adrien isn’t in the room. What a shame. I was planning on turning him into my handsome little knight.”

Masquerade thought for a moment.

Has Adrien been akumatized? Lila wasn’t sure she had ever seen or heard about him getting akumatized. She knew that the class had pretty much gotten hit at least once or twice at some point from what she had heard and read from the ladyblog. But if that goody-goody Marinette hadn’t been akumatized, Adrien likely hadn’t been akumatized either.

“Alright my servants! We have a new mission. I want you to lock this school down! No one is allowed in or out. Anyone you find, bring them to me. If they can be akumatized, then they are joining our cause.”

“Time breaker. Guard the perimeter outside of the school. Anyone outside of Ladybug and Chat noir trying to get in. Tag them, but only if they are suspicious of what’s going on. Stay hidden otherwise.”

“Timebreaker nodded and began skating out of the room in a rush.

“Horrificator, once Timebreaker is outside, seal all the exits in the main building.”

The masked monstress nodded and sped out of the room.

“Dark Cupid, Stoneheart, Princess Fragrance, Miracular and Reflekta. I want you to split up check all of the rooms and bring me potential akumas.”

The five akuma nodded and made their way out the door.

“Gamer and Robostus. I want you to hack into the airwaves. I want access to every Electric device in Paris when I give you the signal. But make sure to be subtle. I don’t want anyone to know about us until I tell you.”

The two nod and start working to get that ready for her.

She focuses her attention to the bubble making akuma that was giving her problems earlier.

Considering how hard it was to break him down, it was understandable. She had saved him for last for a reason. Because he was the hardest one to crack.

He was a relatively calm individual, able to keep a level head. But even he had his weakness. His confidence. Once that was shaken, seeing his entire class taken, knowing his girlfriend was under her control, he couldn't resist another moment. In a way, it was the most satisfying charm on her bracelet.

“Now Bubbler, you are going to go and locate Marinette and Adrien for me. Put them in a bubble and bring them to me. Help that girlfriend of yours.”

The bubbler nodded yes despite severe shaking. Seems even now he is trying to resist the control of the mask.

“Troublesome, but it is only temporary. He will break soon enough.” Masquerade mused to herself.

She looked at the near empty room with contempt. This was hardly a place where she could exact her vengeance. It was so… lame. Though a thought occurs as she realized who she had left standing at attention without orders.

“Evillustrator, I have a special request for you.”

________________________________________________________

“What is this?” Chloé screeched. “My daddy bought me the best phone plan in the city. How can I not have service right now?!”

The nurse felt a chill run down her spine. Could the akuma block out phone signals? Is that why there is no attention being given to the school? How could they call for help? How would anyone know of the akuma attack? Would Ladybug and Chat noir be able to help them?

The nurse started to feel herself going pale, she was just supposed to be a school nurse. Worst thing she needed to deal with was a scraped knee or give a kid an ice pack. Now she has a woman that collapsed on the bed and an akuma that is somewhere in the school. She had just moved to Paris a few months ago. It was her dream to live in the city of love, get her career going, find a nice guy, and just live the good life. But no one told her that supervillain attacks would be so personally connected to her situation? She had heard about this crap in New York and in America. But Paris? It was too much. What if Ladybug and Chat noir didn’t fix everything? What if this was where her story ended. What if…

“Hey!”

The nurse turned to her attention to the voice. It was the brash blonde teen that was complaining.

“You look like you’re going to pass out. Just a heads up, I am not taking care of you.” Chloé commented.

Angela felt her face heat up with annoyance.

“Listen you brat. I don’t have time to deal with your attitude. I have a woman that is out cold from exhaustion in a building with a hostile akuma.”

“Good, at least you aren’t going to faint. I don’t need any more whinny women fainting on me”

The nurse paused, did the girl say that just to help her not succumb to the grim situation?

Chloé started making her way to the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“You already got your hands full with the annoying assistant. I need to make a call to daddy. So, I am going to head out the building and try there. Try not to get ripped apart by an akuma, I still need more ice when I get back.”

Angela blinked. This girl wasn’t scared of the akuma. She was actually going out to do something reasonable. If she could call for help, it would mean that this whole thing blows over.

“Okay, I’ll stay here. Be safe.”

“Yea whatever.”

Chloé headed out the door.

Angela felt a ghost of a smile grace her face.

‘Maybe that girl isn’t a complete brat after all.’

__________________________________________________

The shapeshifting sentimonster growled as it smacked the locker. It lost both primary targets. And worst of all, Ladybug appeared to make this even harder. Masquerade needed to hear about this.

“Master, Marinette and Adrien have escaped my sight.”

The sentimonster heard a sigh of disappointment from the other end.

“It is fine Simularé, They wont be able to escape the school anyway. They will be found soon enough. If anything, this is a blessing in disguise. Having them be the last targets will have them bare witness to how devasting it will all be.” Masquerade answered. “Any news on Ladybug and Chat noir?”

“That’s the other bad news. Ladybug arrived, I am assuming that’s how Marinette managed to escape, and ladybug also took Adrien away as well. No sign of chat noir. But if you know one is here, the other is likely soon to follow.”

There was a brief moment of silence, as masquerade mulled over the information she had received.

“Actually, that works out well for us. Meet up at my location, I have the other students out looking for them, I need your power for something more important.”

“Yes master.”

Simularé shifted back into its phantom form, moving quickly down the hallway to obey her master’s request.

Just as it left, Ladybug popped out of a nearby locker. Relieved it didn’t notice.

“That’s not good, Masquerade likely got everyone in the classroom.” The red heroine said aloud.

She activated her communicator and tried to contact chat noir. But there was no sound.

“Damn it. No signal. Lila likely cut the communication as soon as she realized it.?”

“No worries Buggaboo, I happen to be on site.” A voice called out.

Chat noir jumped out of another locker to reveal he was there.

Ladybug felt a bit of relief at her partner’s appearance. She could tell he felt the same. Better a situation with two heroes.

“Been here the whole time?” The spotted heroine asked her cat crimefighting comrade.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago, I figured something was up, so I decided to take a quick peek. Cat curiosity and all that.”

“And you assumed it was with Collège Françoise Dupont?”

“It seemed like a solid guess.”

“Considering the track record, that is reasonable.” Ladybug conceded.

“Ever wonder why it is always this school and never any of the other schools? Paris is a big city. You would think Hawkmoth would decide to branch out to the other schools in the city.” Chat noir inquired as they started walking down the hall.

“I assumed its just a coincidence.”

“Shot in the dark, maybe he has a kid that goes here. He is pretty old” Chat noir dissed.

“I can’t imagine anyone that would want to date Hawkmoth.” Ladybug joked.

“What about the blue lady? She seemed crazy enough.”

“And now that image is burned in my mind. Thanks kitty.” Ladybug sarcastically commented. “Despite the mental scarring, I am glad you got here. Seems a repeat offender got herself an upgrade in the akuma powers department.”

“Lila.”

“How did you know?”

“I was reading the ladyblog, Alya did great work on that article.” Chat noir praised. He mentally applauded his quick thinking.

“Right, kind of the reason I felt the need to keep an eye on this place. But sadly, I was too slow.” Ladybug responded a tad gloomy.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. We will finish this akuma before lunch.”

Ladybug heard a footstep from the end of the hallway.

“Get down!”

Ladybug tackled the cat hero down. Just narrowly avoiding a neon pause symbol, which now suck on the wall.

“Looks like Lila has been busy.” Chat noir noted as he turned his face to the direction of the attacker.

Ladybug looked at the akuma. The white mask covering her friend’s face. Lady Wifi was back.

“Alya…”

The two heroes got into a fighting stance and prepared to take down this controlled akuma.

________________________________________________

The halls were empty and lifeless as the two visiting teens made their way cautiously down the halls.

“Oddly quiet in here.” The fencer commented. “What do you think Luka?”

“Well last time we entered a place with an akuma in it, it was brimming with armored minions. Maybe this akuma has more stealth?” The Musician commented. “So, I don’t think you will be fighting as directly as you are use to Kagami.”

Kagami nodded at that, not exactly happy or sad regarding that remark. Her plan was to see if she could help her friends get out of the building, grab her textbook, and get out. She wasn’t really that interested in fighting a superpowered foe at this moment in time.

The two ceased speaking when they heard approaching footsteps.

“Someone’s coming.” Luka noted.

The two duck into the nearest room.

The two stayed close to the door as they listened to the sound of the approaching figure.

Kagami dropped to the floor silently as to check and see if she could get a visual.

She could only see what appeared to be costume boots of a larger figure. Which made the expert fencer believe it was not friendly.

The figure stopped, looking at the door. The two teens felt their neck hairs stand on edge as they did their best not to make a sound.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure passed the door without checking. Once the sound of his footsteps could no longer be heard, they let out a sigh of relief.

“That was way too close for comfort.”

“Agreed. I would prefer a direct confrontation next time, much less nerve-racking. “

The two carefully open the door and exit the room.

“Seems we found the akuma.” Luka commented. “Now we just need to avoid it and.”

“You mean akumas.” Kagami corrected.

“Akumas?”

Kagami tilted the boys head to look in the same direction she was looking, and sure enough she saw a rather large rock like creature walking the halls.

“Oh… well that is bad.”

Kagami pushed him back into the room and closed the door. Locking it before the rock giant could notice them.

“I’m surprised.”

“By the fact there is an 8-foot-tall rock beast outside?”

“No, by the fact you didn’t try to fight it.”

“I don’t have a weapon.” Kagami replied flatly.

Luka raised a brow at the comment, unsure if the fencer was serious or not about fighting that thing if she had a foil.

“Is something wrong?” A third voice came from behind them.

The two teens turned around, preparing for the worst. Though they were relieved to see it was just an old janitor… in a Hawaiian shirt. Despite his odd dress, he did give off a kind aura. One of a trusting old grandpa.

They noticed that the room seemed to be a sort of teacher’s lounge, with a small counter with a sink and cabinets. As well as a fridge to keep food cold and stored. A place in the school where teachers would come to get a quick coffee or store their lunch.

“Oh good, you aren’t an akuma.” Luka sighed with relief.

“An akuma?” The old man asked.

“Yes, it is very dangerous out there right now. There are multiple villains outside. I would recommend staying put while we go out there and help handle things.” Kagami explained.

“Quite bold of you to go out there against those monsters.” The man responded.

“Don’t worry, we will be careful. We just need to make sure we can get as many people out as we can so Ladybug and Chat noir won’t need to worry.”

“Ah, how selfless of you. You both seem quite capable for ones so young.”

“You’re very kind, but we are just doing what we can. Our friends are out there and they need our help.”

Kagami goes to the door. Checking to ensure the coast is clear again.

The old man pats the musician’s shoulder.

“I am sure you two will figure a way to help your friends.”

“There are too many outside this room.” Kagami grumbled. If only I had a way to fight them.”

The mysterious janitor smiled.

“Say… I did happen to see Ladybug earlier.”

The two teens turned their attention to the old man.

“You did?” they asked in unison.

“Yes, she happened to drop something while rushing. Would you two be so kind as to return them to her when you see her.”

The two of them glance at each other and shrug. The old janitor might be senile.

“Sure… We can give it to her.” Luka assured the old man, trying to remain polite.

The old man moves to a closet, where out of view of the two teens, an elaborate chest with the symbol of the guardian’s decorates the top. He quickly gets two smaller boxes and closes the closet.

“Ah! Here they are.”

He hands the two a small box each. Their eyes go wide.

“They seemed important, so I didn’t want to just leave them on the floor. But I have a feeling you two will take good care of them.”

The two teens were engrossed by the boxes in their hands. They recognized them immediately. These were the boxes Ladybug used when handing out miraculous.

“Where did you find…?” Kagami tried to question, but noticed the old man was no longer there.

“He’s gone…”

“Actually, I am over here.”

The teens look in the opposite direction they were looking in order to see him at the end of the room getting a snack from the fridge.

The duo decided that maybe this old guy wasn’t all there after all and figured it would be best to go somewhere and utilize the ‘gift’ they were just given.

“Stay in the lounge where it’s safe okay?” Luka asked politely.

“Of course. I am not paid if I am not working.”

The two teens checked the door again, and once the coast was clear. They both slipped out of the room.

After he knew they were out of sight, the old man chuckled.

“The senile routine works every time.”

“Master, you really cut it close with that one.” A small turtle creature exclaimed as he popped out from the closet.

“The universe works in mysterious ways Wayzz. What are the odds that there would be an attack on the school the very day I decide to hide out as a janitor?”

“Considering the frequency of akuma attacks, very likely.”

“True, but how about running into two individuals that Marinette had picked to be heroes.” Fu followed up.

“That is quite a coincidence.”

The guardian pulled out his phone and noticed he didn’t have a signal.

“It seems I can’t get a signal to notify her of the reinforcements I sent her way. Likely it would be the same on her end. So, it is a good thing I acted in advance.”

Fu moved to the closet where he kept the miraculous.

“I can’t help but shake the feeling Ladybug and Chat noir will need all of the help they can get.

“Don’t worry master, I am sure Ladybug and Chat noir will be successful.

“Let us keep an eye on things. They might need another ally to turn the tide.

________________________________________________________

“I am guessing you are also familiar with what’s inside here?” Kagami inquired as the two stealthily moved in the hall.

“I may be familiar with it.” Luka commented.

Kagami contemplated the statement. She figured out the truth.

“Seems we both have used a miraculous then?”

“It appears we have. Though I am not sure Ladybug will be thrilled that someone knows I have helped her.”

“I understand the sentiment. Though lets simply agree to keep it between us.” Kagami answered. “Friends do keep secrets like that if I’m correct.”

Luka smiled at the comment.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Luka assured.

“As is yours.”

The two found the locker room and quickly moved inside.

“Coast is clear.”

The two opened the boxes and as they did two magical creatures appeared in front of them.

A floating creature with multiple spikes appeared in front of the fencer, while another floating creature that resembled a cobra stood in front of luka.

“It is a pleasure to see you again Mistress Kagami.”

“It’s been too long, Longg.” Kagami smiled. Happy to see her kwami friend.

“Hello Luka, itssss been a while.” The snake kwami greeted.

“Happy to see you too Sass.” Luka fist bumped his kwami.

The kwamis stop and turn to see the other kwami there.

“Does Ladybug know about this?” They both ask in unison.

“We will inform her after. Right now, there is a lot of danger.” Kagami exclaimed. “Ladybug needs our help.”

The two kwami nod and prepare to fight.

“Consssider us accomplissses.” Sass answered.

The two teens put on the miraculous.

“Sass! Scales Slither.”

“Longg! Bring the storm”

The two teens transform into their heroic alter egos.

Kagami shifting into the dragon miraculous hero Ryuuko, and Luka changing into the Snake hero Viperion.

The two stop to glance at the other.

“So, what should I call you.” The snake hero asked curiously.

“Call me Ryuuko. And what about you mister snake?”

“Viperion is what I am going with.”

“Fitting.”

“As is yours.”

The two give a nod of comradery before making their way out of the locker room. They had to go help Ladybug.

__________________________________________________

Ladybug dashed across the hallway, avoiding pause symbols being flung at her by the conniving akuma.

She slid underneath one of the symbols and preformed a daring slide kick to knock Lady Wifi off balance.

While she was unstable, Chat noir charged and used his baton to make contact with her white mask. Believing it was the obvious weak point.

“Got it!” Chat noir exclaimed triumphantly. The strike of the staff knocking Ladywifi a good several meters. Before lying flat on her back.

“Wow, that is a tough mask. I thought for sure that was the weak point.” Chat noir commented.

Lady Wifi stood up robotically.

“There must be a way to snap her out of it. Unless Hawkmoth is learning from his mistakes.” Ladybug hypothesized as she got up from the ground.

“Well I got nothing.” Chat noir shrugged.

Another set of footsteps approaching caught the hero’s attention. The recognized the multicolored bubble maker the moment they saw him.

“Nino… You too?” Chat noir said under his breath.

The Bubble maker used his bubble wand to summon two large bubbles to capture the heroes. Bringing back flashbacks of their first encounter with the bubble akuma.

Chat noir and Ladybug expertly slide between the gaps of the attack, resulting in Lady Wifi getting hit with the large bubbles and being sent flying into the wall via bubble prison.

Chat noir lunged at the Bubbler, his quick pounce pinning him down before he could attack.

“Maybe I can destroy his mask with…”

“Wait Chat noir!” Ladybug called out.

Chat noir paused.

“What if your cataclysm doesn’t free him?”

“And then I am left without the power before a recharge.”

“Exactly. We need to hold off on using our powers right now.”

Chat noir wanted to save his friend. But he knew his partner was right. They needed to conserve their powers before facing Lila.

The Bubbler managed to get the cat hero off of him with a burst of strength. Knocking Chat noir to the ground.

Lady Wifi had gotten free from the bubble attack and was now blocking the other entrance.

Ladybug and Chat noir moved back to back, Ladybug facing the ladyblogger turned mindless akuma slave and Chat noir facing the akumatized DJ.

“Any ideas, Buggaboo?”

“Seems they can’t adapt. They are pretty much mindless slaves. Which makes sense since Lila wouldn’t want them to think for themselves.”

“So you’re saying their movements are simple.”

“Which means they are exploitable.”

Chat noir felt relief watch over him. He knew Ladybug had a plan.

_____________________________________________________

“EWWWW!” Chloé screeched in disgust. The front entrance to the school had been covered in a pink slime.

She wiped her hand on the cleanest section of wall she could find. This was not her day.

“What is with this nasty gross akuma? First, I can’t call Daddy to come and pick me up. I can’t even post about it! How will Ladybug know to save me? Or better yet, get me the bee miraculous so I can help her save the day?”

Chloé decided to try another exit, since she had no plans of sticking around without knowing if she was going to be given a miraculous or not. Plus, she did say she would call for help, and doing that would make her look good in potential hero points.

As she was walking, she bumps into something in the middle of the hall. Which was bizzare since the hall was clear.

“Ouch, right on my bruise. What the hell is…”

Chloé felt her anger shift to fear when she watched as the empty hall now contained a familiar akuma.

“Sabrina?”

The akuma turned to her, her face covered with a white face mask.

“Eww. Your akuma form looks even tacker than before.”

“Take potential akuma to master.” The akumatized Sabrina stated in an emotionless tone. Repeating the order, she had been given.

“Oh no you don’t! Sabrina, I order you to listen to me!”

The akuma ignored the blonde’s command and slowly walked towards her.

“Sabrina… I am warning you. I am going to yell at you over this later if you don’t stop right now.”

Chloé started slowly backing away. She wasn’t sure of what to do.

“Listen… if you stop right now… I’ll uh… let you take a pick of one of my old sweaters.” Chloé bargained, not intending to let her pick one of the ones she actually liked.

Chloé felt her hand touch the sealed door, and knew she was at the end of the hall. She was boxed in.

“This is so unacceptable.” Chloé stated, preparing to get captured. But a flash of Red and Black came out of nowhere and kicked the akuma hard to the wall.

“Ladybug! I knew you would like save me!” Chloé jumped and hugged her savior.

“Im not ladybug.” The heroine spoke.”

Chloé released the hug as she examined who her savior was.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chloé had never bothered to learn the names of any of the other miraculous heroes. She sometimes forgets chat noir’s name.

“Ryuuko.” The dragon heroine stated calmly, almost regretting saving Chloé.

“Did Ladybug send you? Cause it would have been better if she got me to help.”

Ryuuko decided to ignore Chloé’s comment.

“Now we need to leave before she… Where did she go?” Looking at the dented locker that no longer had an akuma lying on the ground.

Suddenly the akuma popped out of nowhere about to strike from above with her tonfa and steal Ryuuko’s powers, but was stopped when a small harp smacked her face.

“She appears to have invisibility.” A voice called out.

The two turn to see the snake hero as he caught his harp on the rebound.

Chloé took a moment to look over the snake hero. She had to admit, he was pretty cute. Not Adrien cute, maybe she would start learning the names of the other heroes.

“Quick thinking Viperion.” Ryuuko thanked the snake teen.

“Just following your lead.” Viperion responded. The two giving eachother a respectful smile. They both seemed to have gotten used to working together.

The akuma got up. Its white face mask making the akuma’s expression unreadable. But its body language exuded rage.

“Seems we aren’t going anywhere until she is taken care of.” Ryuuko said as she stared down the akuma.

Viperion turned to chloé.

“You need to go and get to safety.”

“Okay!” Chloé says as she runs off.

“How come she didn’t give you any sass?”

“Because I already have him.”

Kagami had to admit that was a clever response.

“Not what I meant, but Chat noir would love that joke.”

“I will be sure to tell him it later.”

“Stick to playing guitar. You’re a better musician than comedian.”

Before they could get off anymore banter. The akuma went for another attack.

________________________________________________________

Simularé entered Ms.Bustier’s classroom.

“I am here.” The ghostly sentimonster announced.

“Excellent.”

The sentimonster looked up to see that the classroom it was expeciting to see had been altered into what appeared to be a rather glamourous throne room. The windows covered by white curtains with the design of an akuma in black. The platforms and stairs had been altered to be marble. And at the top, where Lila’s desk once was was now a golden throne akin to something one would see in a castle. Though despite the impressive change in the classroom it was still being designed. The akuma known as the evillustrator was still creating more furnishings for the room.

“Simulare, I have an order for you.” Masquerade stated as she sat on the new throne. Clearly confident in her position.

The sentimonster approached her master. Stopping only a few feet away.

“I want you to create a mirage over the school. Since Ladybug is already in the school. It would be best if you made sure no one notices whats happening here. I don’t need any additional heroes popping in yet. Let’s handle her before making things public.”

Simularé nodded.

“Understood. But what should we do if she…”

“I have everything under control. Just follow my orders.”

Simularé ceased her questioning.

“As you wish master.”

The sentimonster shifted into her Volpina form and headed out of the classroom.

“She is getting arrogant in her power. If things do go south, I will need to step in.” Simularé said to herself. But for now, she knew she had a role to play.

_____________________________________________________________

And that ends part 34.

Seems things are REALLY heating up. Will Viperion and Ryuuko be able to help Ladybug and Chat noir?

Will Ladybug and Chat noir be able to get through to their brainwashed friends?

Will Masquerade's gambit be enough for her to get her vengeance?

Whats Simularé's deal?

Find out by staying tuned and sharing. Remember Reblogs help content creators and if you do enjoy my content, the support really does help

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 4 years ago

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear.

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid.

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room.

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?”

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.”

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.”

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!”

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him.

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.”

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?”

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions.

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.”

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?”

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.”

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression.

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.”

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.”

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours.

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you.

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.”

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?”

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.”

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.”

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure.

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.”

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?”

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.”

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.”

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.”

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?”

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.”

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.”

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.”

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.”

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?”

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.”

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes.

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.”

#hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #hannigram #hannigram x reader #the sommelier #wine #tw trauma #tw victim blaming #tw alcohol

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thebrochtuarachs · 3 years ago

Text

Something in the Rain - “A Month Apart, Part 1”

A/N: Hi everyone, thank you for your patience as I whipped out this chapter. I had the initial outline on how this chapter will go but more frequent than none, it changes a lot in the middle while I'm in the writing process. :) I love this story and I hope it just gives you the good feels while reading this. We're two years into this pandemic and the world is still crazy. I hope you're keeping safe and being kind to yourself. :) As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

A modern day meet cute instance between Jamie and Claire.

AO3 / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch : C5: Finding Solid Ground : C6: Situations : C7: Interruptions

XXXXX

After their first date, their schedule for the following two weeks we’re packed - with Jamie settling back in the firm after his 2-week trip from London and Claire’s schedule at the hospital and preparing for her trip to Seattle.

Being a lawyer and a doctor weren’t the most flexible jobs - with patients and clients to attend to, surgeries and hearings to prepare for, plus, with both of them in administrative positions, it is additional work on top of their normal duties. But Claire and Jamie were determined to make it work, so they decided to communicate better, be extra patient and understanding, and really commit whatever available time they had.

The first week, Jamie couldn’t make lunch as he had a court hearing to prepare for and Claire couldn’t make dinner as she was on the night shift. So Jamie, one day, surprised Claire outside the hospital by picking her up, invited her to quick breakfast dates instead, and dropping her off at her house to make sure she got home safe.

The second week was a bit lighter but with Claire going to Seattle on Saturday, she had to do extra administrative work to make sure everything was set for her leave. She offered to have dinner takeaways at her office in the evenings which he happily accepted.

The night before her flight, Claire and Jamie were hanging out in her office, sitting at the sofa, admiring the Edinburgh skyline with a little wine and cheese tray.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t go out” Claire apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, Sassenach.” Jamie turned to Claire and patted her hand. “I honestly would prefer to do anything if it means I get to spend time with you - whether sitting here in your office on a Friday night or sitting in the gallery watching your surgery.”

“You’re too good to me, James” Claire quipped in a feigned dramatic voice.

“Ah, you give me too much credit, Claire. I hope you know that you make an effort too, especially these past two weeks”

“Me? It feels like you’re fitting more to my schedule than I am yours!”

“But you met me during breakfast even though you looked too knackered from yer shift.”

Claire couldn’t deny that and she could just smile with Jamie’s understanding.

“Are you all packed up for tomorrow?” Jamie asked, changing the subject.

“Yes. The weather’s mostly rainy in Seattle so I brought extra items for the wet and cold.”

“And what’s your schedule for the month?”

“Have I not sent you my itinerary? Hold up -” Claire took out her phone and quickly sent an email to Jamie. “There, I sent you my schedule but between teaching and surgery, my time’s the same as here just minus the administrative work, which I tell you not, I’m pretty excited to be free of it for the next month”

Jamie just nodded. The next month.

It’s all rather bad timing if you look at it. The first month, they’ve been rather inseparable with going to lunches almost everyday and weekends at the center. The following month, quick dates and meetings as Jamie was away at London and their crazy schedule at the hospital and the firm. And now, going into the third month since meeting, they’d be completely separated by roughly 4,485 miles.

“Did you hear what I said, Jamie?” Claire asked while waving a hand in front of Jamie’s face.

“I’m sorry, what?” Returning to the present, unaware that his mind has gone away a bit.

Claire gave him a softened look and sat closer to him. “What were you thinking?”

Jamie stayed silent but Claire’s look urged him on.

“Nah, ye’ll think me daft” Jamie said but Claire shook her head.

“Fine” Jamie stretched his arm to pull her closer and she gladly leaned on his shoulder. “I was just thinking about how I’ll not be able to see ye for a month, how much I’ll be missing ye, and how excited I am once ye return here.”

“Oh,” Claire knew the feelings were simple but it’s his words and the way he said it that touched her most.

“I told ye it’s daft.”

“It’s not daft.” Claire tried to mimic Jamie’s accent but they both just have to laugh at her attempt. Turning serious quickly, she took Jamie’s face by the hand and looked deeply into his eyes. “You know that I am going to miss you too.”

Jamie just nodded in agreement, looking at Claire so sweetly and lovingly that she couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss.

Since their first kiss after their date, they hadn’t been shy in showing affection to each other. Nonetheless, it’s all been very respectful to the boundaries to whatever stage they are in their relationship. Hand touches, hugs, pecks and kisses here and there but never really beyond that.

But with her impending departure, Claire seemed to be eager for more. Instead of completely pulling away, she kissed him again some more.

Jamie quickly picked up the signal and allowed himself to pull Claire closer and to his lap. A few minutes later, Claire felt Jamie’s tongue on her lips asking for entrance which she happily obliged. The air around them was electric.

Jamie was first to pull away before the moment got away from them. Claire sighed - not from disappointment, but by the fact of how chivalrous Jamie really is. And she doesn’t really mind it one bit. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

The following day, Jamie picked up Claire to drop her off at the airport. They thought they had time for a quick bite but traffic was so horrendous that they got to the gate just in time before boarding began.

With barely any time left, Jamie pulled Claire to a tight hug as the PA system called her flight. “Go, you’ll miss your plane”

Claire reluctantly released Jamie with a grunt. “Let’s go somewhere when I return”

“Sounds like a plan” Jamie tried to hide the longing in his voice but it was too late.

“The month will be over before you know it, okay? Message me everyday, call me every afternoon when you can” Claire encouraged him. With one last kiss, they bade each other goodbye as she started walking to her gate and Jamie was no longer in sight.

As Claire waited for take off, the silence of a constant message ping on her phone slightly unsettled her. It was then she realized the vast distance between Seattle and Edinburgh. A single tear escaped but she quickly pulled it together. She’s not even gone yet but homesickness hit her right away.

So the four-week long distance trial began.

The 8-hour time difference is not too crazy between Seattle and Edinburgh with their available times falling at the start and end of the day. They’ve been coping well with their synced calendars and communication options.

Jamie sends flowers and snacks to Seattle Grace, earning Claire points from the staff for all the treats she’s been giving away.

Claire, on her end, sends late messages to Jamie to wake up to in the morning and asks Mrs. Kim’s Korean Street Food Hub to delivery chicken wings to Jamie every so often.

They’ve also reserved some time on the weekend for extended calls with conversations falling from happenings to their week to what hairstyles and colors they’ve done in the past.

It wasn’t till late in the 3rd week that things started to shake up.

It was a random Thursday evening in rainy Seattle. Between two surgeries and one class, Claire was ready to call it a day. She was settling on her sofa, drinking her tea for a little night cap when her phone pinged. It was 9:30PM Seattle meaning it was 5:30AM Edinburgh, too early for anybody to contact her over there unless it was important.

Grabbing her phone, her notifications show it was from Geillis. It was a link to a tabloid along with a message “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?”

With the link, she can see the preview of the title “Jamie Fraser is off the market!” Curiosity prevailed Claire and she clicked the article

On the other side of the world, Jamie, as always, promptly arrived at the firm. Just as he was to pass Mrs. Fitz, she called him out.

“Ah, lad”

“Yes, Mrs. Fitz?”

“I dinna ken yet what ye or Claire are yet but have ye spoken to her today?”

“Today? Not yet. Why?”

She motioned for him to come round the reception and take a peek at her monitor.

She showed him the same article Geillis sent Claire and as soon Jamie saw the accompanying photo, he fished out his phone and immediately contacted Claire. It was midnight in Seattle but Jamie didn’t care - he wanted to clear things before things got misinterpreted.

“Erm, hello?” a groggy Claire answered the phone on the other side of the line.

“Hi, were ye asleep?” Jamie asked as he walked the hallway to his office.

“I was but I answered already, what’s up?” she replied, her voice still muffled by sleep. She knew why he was calling though but wanted to hear it from him. “Did you just arrive at the firm?”

“Yes,” he replied, closing the door to his office for privacy. “Well, I don’t want to keep you long but an article came last night about me and well, in case ye’ll see it, it is not true.”

Jamie heard Claire sigh on the other end, “I’ve seen it” she confirmed.

“Ye’ve already seen it?” he repeated in disbelief, looking at his watch, it’s only been posted a few hours ago.

“Geillis sent it to me earlier, I think it just came out then. She’s a bit of a morning person so…”

“Claire, it isn’t true. It was all in a bad angle. The Dunsany’s have been a long-time client of ours and we had an unexpected dinner meeting yesterday. I was just escorting their daughter to her car when the paparazzi got wind of us and ran with whatever story they could think of.” Jamie quickly explained in summary.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I mean you say it’s not true and I believe you.”

“You don’t have any questions?” he asked, a little baffled.

“Not really. I mean was there more to it?”

“A bit but something we can talk about later.”

“Okay”

It was both refreshing and confusing as to why Claire seemed nonchalant about all this. On one end, she might be really understanding. On the other end, she might be harboring ill-feelings she didn’t want to discuss.

It was Jamie’s line that turned silent. Claire, guessing he might need more despite her sleepy state, obliged him. “Jamie, I won’t lie. I was surprised at first because of the photo and how the article was written with your family histories. Add to that, that I didn’t see it in the calendar and you didn’t text me about it.”

“Why didn’t you call -?”

“But” she interrupted him, “I also know you, Jamie, and I know about us. If I was really concerned, I’ll call you right away. But I’m not and we’ll be meeting later anyway, so I know we’ll talk about it eventually.” she paused to catch a breath. “Besides, you already explained it, I don’t need to know any more because I trust you, Jamie.”

“Okay” it was Jamie’s turn to give the one-word reply.

“Are we okay now?” she asked.

“Yes, as long as ye are too.” Jamie replied to which Claire mummed in agreement. “Thank ye, Claire.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I’ll go back to sleep and see you later.” With that, Claire ended the call, a small smile crept on her face knowing the relief and joy Jamie probably feels right now.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #something in the rain #sitr #mia writers #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #geillis duncan #mrs. fitz #geneva dunsany #sam heughan #caitriona balfe #sam x cait #samcait #sam cait

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thekisforkeats · 4 years ago

Text

The Way You Say My Name

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set immediately post-MAG 22. Martin is trans and Jon is amab non-binary.

CWs: Guilt, self-recrimination, worms (mentioned), arguments, shouting, crying, lying (Martin lying about his CV still), transphobia (mentioned), misgendering (mentioned), child abuse (mention of Martin Blackwood's mother)

Summary: Just after MAG 22, Jon apologizes for his treatment of Martin over the past few months. Or tries to, anyway. It's hard to apologize to someone when you don't understand exactly what it is you've done to upset them.

(Of course, once Jon's apologized and Martin's relaxing, well... that's when Jon will finally notice he actually likes Martin, isn't it? Not that he's going to admit to that, even to himself.)

Shoutout to the Martin Blackwood Lovers Discord Server, without whom I would not have written this up and posted it. ;) Jon’s dialogue was (mostly) written by @marianfuckinghawke.

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

“Recording ends.”

Jon reached out and pressed the stop button on the tape recorder. He sighed and looked at his phone. The message from Jane Prentiss was still glowing on the screen. He ran a hand through his short hair, aware he was mussing the grey-streaked black and deciding he didn’t care.

He had listened to Martin’s account of the encounter with Jane Prentiss with trepidation and worry. Now he could feel his face settling into something more drawn with concern. First, concern for his two assistants who were out of the Archive at the moment. Second, concern for Martin. The man had gotten himself into this mess because of Jon’s words. Due diligence. Was he really such a hardass that he had put one of his subordinates in harm’s way? How had he not realized that it might come to this?

Martin sat fidgeting, shifting in his seat, and Jon could feel the other man’s soft brown eyes on him. He had the look of a frightened, cornered animal and it cut Jon to the quick. He had done this. Jon was responsible for the man’s state, and he had to figure out how to make it better.

There was silence for a solid three minutes. Then Martin opened his mouth to say, “So if I’m going to be--”

Jon started speaking at exactly the same time. “So obviously you’re--” He blinked and said, “I’m sorry--”

“No, no, you go,” Martin said, raising his hands and waving them rapidly.

“No. It’s alright… go ahead,” Jon replied at the exact same time, then frowned.

Martin cleared his throat, then seemed to gather his courage. “Well. I was going to say. If I’m going to be staying here, I’ll need… things. Like, uhh, there’s a cot, but I’ll need, like… a toothbrush? I mean, you don’t have a stash of those sitting around, do you?” He chuckled in a self-deprecating manner.

“No, I do not,” Jon replied. “Nor do you have a proper change of clothing… you can hardly wear the same outfit for however long this will take, and you won’t want to sleep in what you’re wearing.” He had a sudden mental image of Martin sleeping naked, and cleared his throat while he shoved it away. Hardly an appropriate thought about a co-worker, even if it wasn’t remotely sexual. “We will have to go out and get such things for you… perhaps after I brief Tim and Sasha on the situation.”

Martin nodded. “There’s a room that might be, umm… did you know one of the rooms that’s filled with boxes is supposed to be the break room?” He gave that self-deprecating laugh again. “‘Course you know that, stupid, what am I saying…” He glanced aside, cheeks flushing. “Umm. Anyway. Umm. It’s bigger than the room you’ve got the cot in? If… if… I’m going to be staying here… I could clean it out… make it livable, maybe, umm, get some snacks and tea and things in, and there’d be more room for extra cots… in case you need somewhere to stay late or… something…” A pause. “Or not! Or just. You know. I’ll just. Have lots of time, so. I can. Clean. The break room.”

Jon did not, in fact, know that they’d had a break room at all. It had been frustrating to have everyone going up to the Admin break room on the ground floor, and he’d said so more than once. No, wait… had someone told him, and had he just told them off about clearing the room out?

He was suddenly horribly aware of how many times he’d griped at Martin for going up there to make tea that he had then gone ahead and drunk. How had he been such a prick to this man?

When Jon had started as Head Archivist, he’d had all sorts of plans for team morale, bonding exercises, and the like. He’d always hated them personally but they were the sort of thing bosses were supposed to do. The trouble was that all of his “how best to run the Archives as a team” ideas had flown right out of his head once he’d gotten down there and found himself at a desk where a woman had maybe died, struggling to record statements, dealing with doggy messes, and that damned persistent feeling of being watched.

Well, now was as good a time as any to start acting the way he should have all along.

“Martin… we will clean the break room. Together. As a group.” He ran his hand through his hair again. He really was going to look a mess. “It is a communal space, it will be a communal job.” He added quickly, “Yes, I know you’ll be here more than the rest of us, but I want us all involved. We need…” He sighed. Time to apologize. “I have been… less supportive of you than I should. And…” He swallowed, aware of the flush rising on his cheeks. “I feel I must apologize. So… I am sorry. But we should do more together, especially given that circumstances have escalated.”

Martin blinked at him for a moment. “You’re… sorry. For… being less… supportive than you should have been.” There was a hard-to-read undercurrent in his tone.

“For being… rude to you… and for punishing you…” Jon replied. “Unjustly.” He gestured to the recorder. “All of this… happened because of your adherence to my instructions…” He frowned. “So. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Martin snapped, “at least you’re finally realizing that it was… unjust.” He glared at Jon, who suddenly felt pinned to the spot by eyes that were no longer soft but had gone hard as agates.

Jon blinked at Martin. “Are… are you alright?” He was apologizing! He couldn’t be messing that up this badly, could he?

Martin drew a long breath in through his nose. “Yeah,” he said, in a high-pitched, clipped tone. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He went to stand abruptly, pushing away from the desk, and in that same tone, “Well, you’d better get to… briefing people, then. I’ll just… go see how far my paycheck can stretch in Chelsea.” His tone was dripping with bitterness by the end.

Jon stood up. “Martin!” He was vaguely aware of saying it in the same irritated tone he always used for the man’s name, aware that Martin visibly flinched at the word, and tried to moderate his tone. “What is going on? I am apologizing! Is… am I missing something?” He moved around the desk to try to be sure Martin didn’t just leave without finishing the conversation.

“No,” Martin said, stopping while facing the door, tone still a good two octaves above normal. “No, it’s fine. You’re apologizing, and that’s good.” His whole frame was stiff, though, and his tone practically screamed “lying.”

Jon couldn’t read people all that well, but even he could read the signs Martin was giving off. “While your words are clear, your body language says quite otherwise.” He tried to moderate his tone again, but he couldn’t help sounding mildly irritated. He didn’t like being lied to, especially concerning his own actions, and he wasn’t sure what he had done incorrectly in this situation. “Now will you stop and talk to me?”

Martin turned away from the door, faced Jon, jaw set firmly. “What do you want me to say, Jon? Do you want me to… to forgive you? To say ‘oh, sure, you’re sorry, so that makes up for the last six months where you’ve made me want to quit my job every day?’ Am I supposed to… to… just… oh, well, there’s danger, so now you’ve realized I’m an actual person, now you’re going to stop kicking me around, now you’re going to pitch in to help around here as I’m not already the one spending all his time trying to clean up the mess while Tim and Sasha run out to research things so you don’t have to send anyone to double-check my work? Never mind that I’ve been trapped for two weeks, I could’ve been dead and none of you bothered to check on me!”

Martin was all but shouting by the end of the diatribe, every line of him stiff and furious, and Jon was suddenly very aware of the fact that Martin was taller and bigger than he was. He cringed away from Martin, took a step back. “I… I…” He turned away to his desk, grabbed his phone. “Here…” he said, handing it to Martin. “Look!” The phone would solve the problem, if Martin could just see… “There… I… just… please…”

The moment Jon had cringed away Martin had hunched his shoulders, deliberately making himself smaller. Now he was taking long, deep breaths, his expression ashamed. He reached out to take the phone from Jon.

The display was still on the screen of Jon’s message history with Martin. Before the last message from Jane Prentiss was a long list of messages from Jon--numerous messages inquiring about Martin’s health, worried and concerned. He had linked articles about foods to eat when feeling ill, then when he’d realized some of those might be hard for Martin to make alone, found new links that had easier recipes.

There were also, Jon knew, greyed-out deleted messages.

Martin, know that your presence is missed here at the Archives. I am wishing you a quick recovery.

I know it’s sudden, but I find myself missing you. Just thought you should know.

And others, so many others, as Jon had tried to figure out how to pierce the wall built by the texts he’d been getting back from what he now knew was Jane Prentiss, asking to be left alone.

As Jon watched Martin reading the messages he nervously bounced in place, one arm folded over his chest to hold the other. He could feel his skin glowing from embarrassment and he wasn’t even sure why. The blush faded, however, as he watched Martin. Watched the anger fade, and realized what lay underneath. The pain that had been underlying that anger, the way it lifted as Martin read through the message history--it was like a revelation. Martin must have walked in here convinced nobody at his place of employment really cared about him, and Jon realized that that was, indeed, what he must usually think, if something as simple as text messages was making something like hope bloom on his face.

It occurred to Jon, suddenly, that nobody had checked on Martin. For two weeks. No friends, no family. Nobody had even noticed the man was gone.

Jon had to fix this. Somehow. And not by wrapping Martin up in a fierce hug like he very much wanted to; that would not be appreciated from the man’s asshole boss. Even if Martin looked like he really, really needed a hug.

By the time Martin handed the phone back to Jon, his breathing was shaky and unsteady. He dropped back into the chair, like his legs suddenly weren’t working. “S-sorry,” he managed in the barest of whispers. “Sorry.”

“That’s… my line,” Jon said. “I am sorry. I should have said more to make it clear… you are a valued member of this team.” He shook his head, wincing at how… canned that line sounded, but pushed on. “I should have said it at least once. And… I never did. I held you at arm’s length and ostracized you. And… I understand how you felt all that time now…” He sighed. “And… yes, it may have taken this incident to make me realize how terrible a person I’ve been to you since… since you started working here.”

Martin stared down at his hands; Jon could see he was crying, but silently, without sniffling or sobbing. “Why?” he finally managed. He looked up at Jon. “Why? What did I… do? I mean… there was the whole ‘dog’ business at the beginning… what, do you hate dogs that much?” There was a kind of desperation in his tone.”

“No… I mean, sure I’m more of a cat person, but… no… I don’t hate dogs.” Jon frowned. “I… I’ve given that a lot of thought these past two weeks and I think I figured it out.” He sighed. “It wasn’t you I was angry with.” He took a breath. “I was angry at Elias. I like to have a sense of who I work with, to get to know them before I get into anything serious.” Oh, no, wait, that sounded… he hadn’t meant it like… work. He’d meant work! No, he was overthinking that; Martin knew he meant work. He stammered for a moment, though. “It’s… part of who I am… as a person.

Jon took a breath, to steady himself. Focus on the apology. “When Elias… placed you here without telling or consulting me about the selection process, it… felt like a betrayal. I felt that agency over my department had been taken out of my hands. And yes… I know he runs the Institute, but he should have at least consulted me about who is in my department.”

He dropped his head and reached to take a box of tissues from the side of the desk, to slide them towards Martin. An olive branch. “I took out that anger and frustration on you. And that was wrong, I know that now.”

“Not like I wanted to be here either,” Martin mumbled, reaching out for a tissue and wiping at his eyes. It didn’t do much to stop the tears. “I mean, I didn’t even want the damn library job, I j-just…” He stumbled, stammering, “It’s… it’s harder to get a position with a degree in parapsychology than you might think.” He sniffled. “B-but… even on top of that… you and Tim and Sasha, you’re all friends already, you requested them. Even if Tim and Sasha and I get along they don’t really know me, and you… well…” He sighed. “When Elias said I was going to work for Jonathan Sims I just about freaked out. You’ve got a… reputation, you know? I just… I knew it’d be… lonely down here, and it really has been.” There was a furrow between his brows now as he looked at Jon.

Jon frowned. He’d known he had a reputation around the Institute, but he hadn’t thought it was that bad. He took a deep breath; this wasn’t about him right now. “Then let us work on fixing that. Starting now. Like I said, we need to be working together more, improve the… office atmosphere. I… have come to admire your dedication to your work. ‘Due diligence,’ as you put it.”

Martin regarded him quietly for a moment. Then he said, “The thing that really bothers me… I don’t… I don’t think you’d understand.”

Jon frowned. Then, finally, softly, “Try me. You might be surprised.”

Martin swallowed. “I… I’m trans,” he blurted. “Like, I was… I had a girl’s name, when I was younger. Figured out I was a guy when I was a teenager, started hormones, and… well…” He took a deep breath. “My mum’s never approved, you know? She’s always been… difficult, she’s… sometimes she’ll… well, I mean, you know how parents will… say your name, right? Like, when you’ve… disappointed them.”

Jon’s frown deepened. He did not, in fact, know how parents said one’s name, but he could remember his grandmother saying Jonathan in tones of deepest disapproval when he’d come back from wandering off. So he nodded; he understood the feeling, at least.

Martin wiped at his eyes again. “The way she said my name… it made me hate my name. My deadname, I mean. But it… helped me realize I was trans, because when I thought about something else I’d want to be called, I came up with ‘Martin.’ And… and I’m kind of glad sometimes, that she… misgenders me, and refuses to call me Martin, because it means she’ll never, ever say it in that… disappointed tone. I have never regretted that choice, not once, until…”

Martin took in a long, shuddering breath, then straightened himself, looking Jon right in the eye. Like he knew what he was going to say wouldn’t go over well, but he had to say it. “The way you say my name, when you snap at me? It’s exactly like my mother says my deadname. And nobody has ever made me regret that choice. Not… ever.” He swallowed. “Until I met you.”

Jon stared at Martin for a long moment, horrified. He was non-binary himself, and yet he’d never changed his name, never even asked people to call him by different pronouns although he might have preferred it; he’d never had the courage to do so. He’d always been terrified of what people might think of him. Yet here was Martin, strong enough to change himself outwardly despite his mother’s disapproval, strong enough to keep coming in every day to deal with a boss who made him regret the name he’d chosen for himself.

In that moment, Jon felt very much like he did not deserve Martin Blackwood. That the Institute did not deserve Martin Blackwood. They would have to do better, somehow.

Finally he managed, “I’m… I didn’t know. I--” He curled his mouth in disgust. How did one respond to that? Do better? That was only a marginally acceptable platitude. “I will endeavor to change my tone.” He didn’t like that any better, but it was the best he could do.

Jon really, really wanted to offer Martin a hug. The man looked like he needed one. Tim would have offered a hug, workplace hugs could be acceptable… but, no, Jon was Martin’s boss, and Martin had just said how much he hated Jon--because if Jon reminded Martin of the mother who deliberately misgendered him, then he had to hate Jon--and who would want a hug from someone they hated?

There was something he could do to help, though. To pay Martin back, as it were. So he, too, straightened, and said, “Well. You were talking about how far your paycheck will stretch in Chelsea, but I think that will be quite unnecessary. Given that you encountered Jane Prentiss while in the line of duty, as it were, I think we can expense your essentials to the Institute without too much trouble.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “W-wait… won’t that… I mean… won’t Mr. Bouchard be… upset about that?”

Jon actually smirked. “Don’t you worry about Elias; I fully intend to take out my irritation about his habits as a supervisor on him instead of you from here on out.” Not directly, of course, but Elias would be irritated by the entire setup, and some petty part of Jon enjoyed that thought.

Martin was staring at Jon now. “I… I wouldn’t want you to… get in trouble…”

Jon waved a hand. “It’s the least I can do.” He stood. “Let’s get to the shops for toiletries before they close and then we can see about getting some clothing delivered. And, ahh, do you have any… prescriptions you’ll need…?” He was thinking about hormones. “I suppose I could send Tim ‘round to your flat, but I wouldn’t want to put him in danger either…”

Martin stood, hesitating. “I’ll… figure all that out. It’s alright. Really.”

Jon came around the desk to grasp Martin by the arms and look up at him, intently. It was the closest thing to a hug he’d let himself get to. “Martin,” he said, as gently as he could manage, with as much respect as he could manage, “you put yourself in danger because of the way your superiors at this Institute have treated you. Let me at least begin to partly repay that debt. Please.”

Martin was blinking down at him. “Uh… umm… aren’t we having… Mr. Bouchard repay the debt…?”

Jon smiled up at Martin as he dropped his arms. "Ahh, but we’re not going to ask Elias to come help clear out the breakroom. Can you imagine him moving boxes?” He could feel the smile edging into a grin. “His arms would break just from trying to pick one up.”

Martin had started to smile, hesitantly. That was what Jon had been going for; he hadn’t realized how much he actually liked Martin’s smile until he hadn’t been around for two weeks. “I-I mean… you’re not the biggest guy yourself… you might have the same problem.”

“Mmm, fair,” Jon replied, “but I am willing to scrub a floor if I must.”

Martin’s smile widened. “Y-yeah, I can’t imagine… Elias… scrubbing a floor.” He giggled, suddenly. “He probably pays people to do that stuff. He… he’d probably have been hopeless stuck in his flat for two weeks.”

Jon laughed at the mental image of Elias Bouchard stuck in a flat, living off canned meals, a laugh so full he actually threw his head back a bit. “Good lord, Elias, having to live off tinned peaches? Can... you... imagine?”

“H-he’d… probably… start shouting for Rosie.” Martin was giggling so hard he could barely get the words out. He put on a bad posh accent and said, “‘Rosie, why do we have all these tinned peaches? I did not approve this budget!’”

They both dissolved into helpless laughter, both reaching out to the other to hold themselves up. There was a moment, as the laughter waned, that their eyes met, and Jon felt something swoop and flutter in his gut. Martin had such a nice smile, and such a pleasant laugh, and it would be wonderful to have both around more often, and it was making him a little dizzy if he was being honest. When was the last time he’d felt that swoop and flutter? Georgie? Briefly, with Tim?

No, no, that was the laughter and the proximity. That was all. They were bonding over dislike of Elias. That was all.

At least he’d managed to clear the air.

Jon straightened, and kept smiling as he turned toward the door. “Come along, then, Martin,” he said, and again deliberately infused the word with as much respect as he could muster. “Let’s get to the shops.”

Martin nodded. “Thanks for this, Jon,” he said, and oh dear there was another swoop at the way Martin said his name. Had he always said it like that? Had Jon just not noticed? “Really. Thank you.”

Jon turned away to school his expression. This would not do. He was not going to let himself feel any more… swoops for a subordinate. It just wouldn’t do. No matter how nice of a smile he had. He did not have a crush on Martin, because he could not have a crush on Martin, and that was that.

Feeling a little better--it was always a relief, sorting out his emotions--Jon headed out to help Martin get settled into the Archives.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #canon tma fic #send help i'm in too deep #i owe the discord server at least two more fics already #GUYS HELP

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Quote

hi! i just recently found ur account and love it💞💞 can i request adam driver x reader and they are dating. reader is a bit younger and he gets jealous over one of her guy friends bc he thinks she deserves someone younger than him. & it ends super fluffy :)

@avengxrs423

Yay, my first request! Thank you so much for the kind words. This was fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Doubts

Pairing- Adam Driver X FemReader

Summary: Adam has always been aware of the age gap he has with his fiance. He tries to move past it, but a chance meeting with your famous old friend brings the worry crashing back.

Warnings: Language, insecurity, mild smut, paparazzi. WC-2,700

“Mr. Driver, over here! Miss (Y/L/N), this way!” Adam followed you out of the car, thanking the driver, his eyes on you as the crowd of reporters and paparazzi lined either side of the walkway into the restaurant. It was always these sorts of outings, where the press knew he’d be in attendance to a new hot spot, that made him nervous. Wary of how easily you could be accosted, even injured. He was nothing if not protective of you.

Standing closely next to you, Adam places his hand on your lower back, joining you in smiling around for the cameras as you slowly moved forward. His security team had the doors open ahead of you, mere steps away.

“Have you set a date for the wedding yet?”

“Let’s see the ring again, Miss. (Y/L/N)!”

“Mr. Driver, what do you have to say to fans who find the age gap between you to be too much?”

Adam worked actively not to react to the last question, his body tensing. When he looked down at you, he found you were already watching him, the glamorous smile still dazzling everyone, but he read the caution in your eyes. When you were both through the doors and they shut behind you, he began to breathe a little more freely, casting the reporter's rude question out of his mind.

He was taking you on a date and wanted to make sure the evening was special. His publicist had set it up, as this new restaurant was the current ‘place to be and be seen’ in New York City. While Adam could care less, he knew fans everywhere were chomping at the bit to see more of him and you together, in New York especially.

The makeup artist who won the movie star’s heart. It was a major headline when you first started dating publicly, which made you both laugh as Adam had to work to convince you he was interested, in the beginning. Newly engaged now, Adam could see the romance of it, could understand why fans enjoyed the story. But he hated, absolutely despised, how every damn article made sure to mention, directly or not, the age gap between the two of you.

He had had no intention of falling in love with anyone he worked with, he hadn’t been actively seeking-but you had shown up one day one and after one brief conversation, he was smitten. His feelings only grew over the two years you worked together, but he had hesitated greatly in acting on them, solely because you were 10 years younger than him.

When you finally got together, he felt like the luckiest man, that you would love him back, age be damned. You were cautious at first, eventually believing he genuinely wanted to be with you, not just have a fling. He had waited four months into the relationship to make it public (which was no easy feat, but you were supportive through all of it), and of course, the articles started on pointing it out straight away, some going as far as to point out where you were when he was enlisted in the Marines, or graduating Juilliard.

You told him it didn’t matter, repeatedly. And never got mad at him for fixating when a particularly brutal article was released. He had felt guilty many times that you had to comfort and reassure him so consistently, yet it made him love you even harder. And life went on, happily, your relationship solid.

When news broke that he had proposed, the articles started up with renewed fervour. He had been trying to hide from you just how much this upset him, how the doubt was creeping back into his mind...

Tonight was meant to be a sophisticated, romantic evening that served the double purpose of getting Adam press coverage before heading back to L.A. As you were shown to your table by the excited owner, Adam watched you chatting away with her, complimenting their design and success. You wore a beautiful hunter green dress made of satin, it fell to just above your knees and complimented your glowing skin perfectly. He was enraptured by you, whether your wore sweatpants, a dress-and especially when you wore nothing. Green was his favourite colour on you.

At the table reserved for the two of you, Adam helped you take your seat, his hand brushing gently against your hair, before taking his own. Annie and the waiter who had appeared handed you the course descriptions, before asking if you had any dietary needs. “Thank you so much, Annie-honestly just tell the chef we’re game for anything!” You said, grinning. Annie winked before setting off to the kitchen.

Adam nodded politely at the waiter, who took their drink orders, before sweeping away, finally giving him time to study you. “How do you like it?” He gestured around them, at the dark lit, moody and stylish venue. It was busy, filled mainly with notable celebrities, though he hadn’t seen anyone he’d met before. He hoped you liked it, not being one for going out to fancy dinners-you were a homebody, preferring to curl up with a good book.

“Adam, this is great! We haven’t been to a dinner like this in forever, and did you hear what Annie said?” You gushed, beaming, and Adam felt his worries washing away, “13 courses! 13! You’re going to have to carry me out of here, babe.”

“I’m fine with that,” He replied, enjoying the flush that spread across your cheeks. “But let’s be honest, you’re going to end up giving me half your food, pretty girl, you always do.”

You pouted, “I’m making a renewed effort tonight, just wait.”

Adam laughed, and the two of you settled in, the conversation flowing as you discussed the upcoming film Adam was starring in, of which you were working as his artist. The food was, as expected, incredible. Adam loved how you took a photo of each plate, even though neither of you had social media accounts. You still took photos of all the food you ate, just for the fun of it, or as you told him ‘simply to document our adventures!’.

It was around the ninth course that the evening took a turn.

A commotion at the doors captured the attention of some of the patrons. Adam glanced up, but from where your table was, he couldn’t see much. The paparazzi outside were shouting too loudly to decipher what they were saying, so it wasn’t until Adam saw your friend walk in, his brother and friend in tow, that he knew his mood was about to shift.

Tom Holland was one of the first celebrities you had worked with when you started working in L.A. And he’d always kept in touch, even when his own fame skyrocketed and before you were public with Adam. And actually, Adam did like the kid-he was beyond well mannered and genuine, and from the stories you had told, a very considerate friend. Tom’s glowing recommendation of your work was part of the reason Disney had hired you on for the Star Wars films, which was how Adam had met you.

Really, Adam had no reason not to love Tom Holland and be happy to see him arrive with his brother Harry and friend Harrison. It was just the minor, ridiculous concern Adam had that, being close in age, you and Tom were more much suited for one another. A concern that had poisoned his mind for your entire relationship.

Seeing his eyes over your shoulder, you turned to look where Adam had been and exclaimed in delight when you saw your friend. Adam quickly arranged his features to match yours, nerves shooting through him. Tom spotted you when you stood, in all your dazzling beauty, and grinned before making a beeline towards your table. The owner, Annie, had been leading the men to a nearby table and stood back politely while you all greeted one another.

“(Y/N), love! How are you?” Tom gave you a hug, “And Adam, good to see you mate!” Adam took his offered hand, giving a quick handshake. (Y/N) hugged the other two, chatting amicably.

“Good to see you, Tom-hi Harry, Harrison,” Adam greeted the other two before placing his hand on your lower back. Inwardly, he felt more stable in doing this, but he worried it would look possessive. If you thought so, you made no objection, stepping a little closer to his side while you beamed at your friends.

“I didn’t realize you’d be in New York this week, Tom!” You said, smacking his arm playfully.

Tom held his hands up as if in surrender, “It was completely last minute, just stopping off for two days before we head to L.A.” He glanced between the two of you, “I nearly forgot-congratulations again on the engagement! This is the first time I’ve seen you both in person since!”

Adam smiled, “We really appreciated the gift you sent, Tom-that was too kind.” And it had been quite the gift, in addition to a beautiful and extravagant flower arrangement, Tom had made a personal donation to Adam’s charity, Arts in the Armed Forces, and shared the charity on his social media. They’d had an influx of new donations from his fans and followers.

“Arts in the Armed Forces is incredibly important to Adam and me, Tom-you really knocked that gift out of the park.” (Y/N) agreed, her arm snaking around Adam’s waist with affection.

Tom waved off their thanks good-naturedly, “Well, we’re going to leave you to what looks very delicious-Annie, I’ll have what Adam and (Y/N) are having!” Tom grinned briefly at the owner, “And we’re still on for lunch when you both come to L.A. Next week, yeah?”

After assuring Tom they’d see him soon and bidding their farewells, Adam and you sat back down, diving back into your food. You chatted happily about bumping into Tom, which quickly transitioned into excitement for returning to L.A., as the cold of January in New York City was getting a little old for you both. You loved it here, were all too happy to call it home when your relationship escalated and Adam asked you to live with him. And though you both spent a lot of time away from your New York brownstone, it was always going to be home.

Adam worked to enjoy the rest of the evening, but he’d rather lost his appetite, the food tasteless on his tongue. Because seeing Tom had brought the wave of insecurity crashing back down on Adam, that you were too good for him, too young, that you deserved someone better, to be with someone who smiled more easily and with whom you shared more in common with. He knew you loved him, but his brain kept asking-did you realize what you could have if you broke up?

When you climbed into the car after dinner, having said warm goodbyes to Tom and his party and touring the kitchen with Annie to thank the chef and his team, Adam’s smile dropped. He sat back in his seat, confirming with the driver that he could take them home, before dropping his head against the headrest and closing the divider between the front and back seats.

“Adam?” Your voice cut through the silence after only a few moments, concern evident in your tone.

Adam glanced down at you next to him, softening when he looked into your wide eyes, “Sorry, sweetheart, what’s up?”

You frowned, turning in your seat to face him more directly, “I want you to tell me what’s up, you’ve been in a funny mood half the night-you okay?”

“I’m alright, just tired-that was a lot of food over a long time.” He shrugged, looking away. For a moment, he thought you were going to leave it at that, but he should have known better; one of the reasons he adored you was your commitment to being the most stubborn person in the room. In an instant, you undid your seatbelt and slid from your seat, carefully climbing over him so that you could straddle his lap, all of his attention now on you.

Adam’s hands went to your hips instinctively to hold you steady, as you glared at him, “Babe, I know you’re not saying it, and I don’t want you to feel forced here, but I thought we’d talked about this.” The car hit a minor bump and you sank into his lap, nearly bumping heads, from the force.

He gripped your hips tighter, “We did, I just...I can’t help it, I feel like-like I’m holding you back.” He murmured with his eyes on your stomach, shame flooding through him.

You sighed, not without affection, “Holding me back from what, exactly? You are my everything, Adam, and without you...I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you.”

You slid your hands from his chest to his neck, where they rested gently, thumbs brushing across the lower half of his jaw. Adam closed his eyes briefly, “But if you did imagine it, properly, you might see that someone like Tom-I mean, he’s your age, goes to more parties and events, you’d have more fun-“

Your mouth was on his, cutting off Adam’s words, his mind going blank. The feel of you against him, your lips on his, was more than enough to render him speechless. After a moment, you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and expression serious, “I understand that sometimes, we notice the age gap a little more because the press thinks it’s interesting, but Adam, I need you to understand. I need you to see just how much I do not care about any of that, what they say or think or even about the actual difference in our ages! I never think about it, because it has no effect whatsoever on how fucking madly in love with you I am.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, holding his gaze.

“I-I love you too, so much, pretty girl,” He sighed, his emotions raw, “I just want the best for you, always.”

“You are the best for me, which is why I said yes to marrying you when you got down on one knee, in our apartment, wearing nothing but those ridiculous shorts. It’s why I’d say yes, again and again, Adam. Do you think I like going to parties? That I don’t have fun with you?” Your voice raised slightly in exasperation, while Adam stared at you in wonder; you’d never been so passionate about this before-despite having had the conversation many times, “I have an adventure every single day with you, I love everything about our lives together, and honestly, babe...” Your voice lowered considerably, a soft breathy croon now, “I can’t picture a guy like Tom treating me how you do, knowing exactly what I need from a man, always taking such good care of me.”

She punctuated these words by grinding against him, her eyes darkening in arousal. Adam groaned at the sensation, “Pretty girl, you’re too good for me.”

(Y/N) smiled at Adam, “No, I’m just right for you and you’re just right for me.”

“Damn it, I love you!” He gasped, before sliding one hand from your hip to the back of your neck and pulling you close, his lips on yours before you could reply. You let out a small whimper, melting into him. Your arms circled around his neck, and Adam could feel the intent in your body, the overwhelming need to send him the message that he was yours, and you-you were his.

“I love you, Adam, forever.” You sighed against his lips, deepening the kiss further.

All thoughts that weren’t of (Y/N) kissing him in the back of their town car, soared from Adam’s mind. His new focus on getting you home, so that he could show you just how much he appreciated your patience and understanding. And as you shivered from his touch, his name on your lips, you successfully and unknowingly convinced Adam his doubts were unwarranted, that you loved him endlessly, as he loved you.

#adam driver x reader #adam Driver x you #adam driver #reader insert #reader x tom holland #fanfic #requests open #requested #fluff #angst

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anjuschiffer · 4 years ago

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Amira Wayne - Chapter 2

Day 2 of Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020! Woo! And, follow @biodad-bruce-month for more content!

Note: The AO3 Link to this fic will be on the first chapter only.

Chapter 2: Father-Daughter Bonding

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123

MASTERLIST | Prev

Bruce looked at Amira, stumped by her wailing.

At first he thought it was because she already missed Talia, but it’s been a solid three hours since then and she never cried between that time until now. It wasn’t until he had placed her on his bed that she started to become fussy, her small hands waving all over the place.

Perhaps she adored being held?

“Master Bruce - good heavens! What is that- is that a child you have there Master Bruce?” Alfred asked as he stepped into Bruce’s bedroom with a tray of tea, appalled by the odor in the room.

“Meet Amira...my daughter.” Bruce introduced, watching as Alfred set down the tray, slowly approaching the wailing girl.

“Pardon me Master Bruce, but when was the last time you changed the young miss?”

“Changed?” Bruce asked, glancing at Alfred and then at Amira. “As in, clothes?”

“I meant her diaper.” Alfred clarified, picking up Amira and bouncing her in his arms, Bruce not liking how easily Amira stopped crying. “I will bathe the young miss while you start heading to the nearest baby store. Here’s a list of things I need you to buy.”

Alfred quickly took out his notepad and scribbled away, tearing off two sheets worth of writing and handing it to Bruce. “Hurry now. We don’t have all evening.”

And so Bruce was pushed out of his room, sent on a mission to buy... baby things…

“Do you need help si- Mister Wayne! Oh! I-um...how can I help you?” The store worker asked him, averting her gaze.

What was the richest person in Gotham doing in a department store like the one she worked in?!

Bruce looked at her name tag. Elizabeth. He’ll make sure to pay her for his troubles.

“Hi, I’m looking for all of these items, but I’ve searched throughout this store and can’t seem to find them.” Bruce said, handing Elizabeth the list Alfred had given him. He watched as the young girl’s eyes widened before looking at Bruce and back at the list.

“You can find all of these on our third floor, in the baby department.” Elizabeth provided, stifling a laugh when Bruce looked at her confused.

There was a third floor? “Would you like it for someone to-”

“Please.” Bruce practically begged, Elizabeth nodding. Bruce watched as she ran to a fellow coworker, gestured at him before running back to him. Bruce noticed the way the other coworker paled when she saw him.

“Well Mister Wayne, my name is Elizabeth and I’ll be glad to be of service.”

“Thank you so much.”

Bruce spent the next three hours being led by Elizabeth around the baby section, only then noticing that he really wasn’t up to the task.

When Elizabeth talked about Amira’s age, Bruce didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how old she was, what she was able to do or even eat. Vaccines? Apparently, babies needed that too.

“I also suggest talking to your daughter frequently.” Elizabeth states, picking up another adorable outfit for Amira. You can never go wrong with dresses. “Talking to her would help enhance her speech, especially if she’s not babbling. Babbling should be common for her if she’s around six months old.”

“How do you know so much?” Bruce decided to ask, looking at the cart that was almost filled to the brim with supplies and clothes. There were bottles, sippy cups, plastic bowls, bibs, a few interactive toys, a white crib and a stroller. Oh...and diapers...lots of them.

“Well, I want to become a pediatrician, so I often find myself reading about child development and such during my time off.” Elizabeth told him with a soft smile. “And then there’s the fact that I practically raised my two younger siblings since they were newborns. I often helped my mother take care of them, absorbing all the new knowledge like a sponge.

While it sounds like she dumped a bit of the responsibility on me, I know my mother meant well. A slice of what it meant to be a mother, to be responsible for another life.”

Bruce hummed at her answer, picking up a white pajama on the rack, wondering if Amira would even like it. Does she even know what a bee was? Did she even know what was going on? Did he even know what was going on? What his life was for him now?

“I wonder if I’m up to the task.” Bruce muttered to himself, but Elizabeth heard it loud and clear.

“No one is born knowing what they’re expected to do and be ready for.” Elizabeth said, picking up another outfit. “Sometimes, we just have to go with the flow and see where we land.”

Bruce repeated those words mentally, picking up another pajama, a yellow this time, it had a sheep on it.

Go with the flow, huh?

After spending hours in the baby area, Bruce was ready to go home, mentally relaying the notes Elizabeth had given him.

He started laying out the plans he had in mind for Amira’s nursery, deciding on using the room next to his. While the only way to enter it was through the main door, he could always make another door that connected the nursery and his room for easier access.

After unloading everything from the car to inside the manor, Bruce decided to bring some fresh clothing to the last place he saw Alfred and Amira, panic setting into him when he heard wailing coming from the room.

Bruce pushed the door open, seeing Alfred with Amira in his arms, the girl reaching for something that wasn’t there.”

“Welcome back Master Bruce.” Alfred wearily said, the two noticing that Amira quickly looked over to Bruce, her small hands no longer searching for him. Her wails became hiccups as she continued to stare at Bruce. “Look, Amira. It’s your father. I told you he would be back.”

As soon as Alfred said those words, Amira began to cry again, Bruce quickly taking her from Alfred and began to walk her around the room. He then remembered that Elizabeth had told him.

He should talk to her.

“Amira. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Bruce listened as her wails grew softer. “I went to buy some things, but now I’m back.”

Bruce listened as Amira softly stopped crying, now tiny hiccups escaping her. “There, there.”

“I’ve seen you’re starting to step up to the task, Master Bruce.”

“Someone has to look after her. Who better than us, her family?” Bruce asked, then realizing that Amira had yet to be clothed.

Bruce wandered to the bags, quickly taking out the mountain of clothing.

He quickly sets Amira down on the bed so that he can organize the clothing. In doing so, he missed how Amira sat up. He only noticed it when she had crawled to sit in front of him.

She can sit. And crawl.

“If she can sit by herself and is starting to crawl, she may already be six months old.”

Bruce watched as Amira took a liking to the two clothing articles in front of her. Or rather, the two pajamas. More specially the white and yellow pajamas that Bruce had picked out - the sheep and the bee respectfully.

He watched in wonder as Amira stared at them, looking between the two for a while before patting the yellow onesie with the sheep on it.

“Sheep it is then.” Bruce said, unbuttoning the pajama. How did he forget the onesie that goes underneath?

He quickly clothed Amira, clasping the last button to find Amira looking at him with her wide green eyes.

“You are a natural.” Alfred decided to speak up, watching as Bruce picked up Amira with confidence.

“Or perhaps I’m willing to learn.” Bruce stated, watching as Amira yawned, watching her start to doze off. “One day at a time.”

The two men luckily found out that Amira was seven months old, thanks to the birth certificate and other documents Talia had left in the baby carrier. It made certain legal procedures go more smoothly, while for others, it took some time.

As days went by, Bruce and Alfred started to notice that Amira was smarter than what she let on.

She knew to not place anything in her mouth that wasn’t food, something that both Bruce and Alfred appreciated. Bruce quickly found out that she liked to observe items, Amira often gazing at a toy for minutes, listening to a rattle make the faintest sound as she passed it from one chubby hand to the other.

She would recognize the places she was in, lay down when she was in the crib and remain seated while she was on the couch or in a chair. Alfred found out that she adored watching him cook, her eyes following every movement he made as he prepared dinner as she sat in her highchair.

Alfred also found out that she was very fond of strawberries and apples, Alfred melting when Amira would grace him with the largest smile possible when she would realize that Alfred had made her favorite purees.

She would smile and frown but would never make a sound that wasn’t a cry. Even when Bruce noticed that she wanted to let out a cry, she never whimpered or sniffled. It was as if she was suppressing those emotions. Luckily, after paying Dr.Leslie Thompkins a visit, Bruce learned that it was just a habit she must have learned while she was with Talia. Thompkins assured Bruce that by talking with Amira more, it would help her unlearn that habit. Surely enough, the doc was right.

Amira soon grunted, babbled and rambled more frequently and at random points in the day. Babbling not only helped her get Bruce’s attention, but also made him smile more. Amira soon learned that ‘Dada’ made him smile even more, especially when he would not be home for longer periods of time. As much as she adored Alfred, no one beats Dada.

Now having a system of communication, Bruce would often coax Amira to come towards him, Amira standing just three steps away from him.

He would watch as she would proudly stand by herself before taking a single wobbly step towards him. Another two steps followed slowly after, Amira bursting into a giggling fit when she reached Bruce.

Those tiny steps soon turned into hops, strides and jumps, Bruce not believing how quickly time had passed.

He watched her grow before his eyes, feeling a smile grow on his face as he kept listening to Amira read to him.

“-ate through one nice green leaf, and after that he felt much better.” Amira said, turning the page. “Now he wasn’t hungry anymore and- is there something wrong Dad?” Amira asked, Bruce wondering what she meant. “You’re crying.”

“Am I know?” Bruce asked, raising his hand to his eyes, wiping away what was a tear. Seems like he was. “It’s nothing. Probably some dust got into my eye.”

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be patrolling tonight?” Amira asked, showing Bruce himself in the form of a Batman plushie.

It’s been two years since Bruce became Batman, all thanks to a single incident that almost cost him his life. He almost left Amira in the same situation as him when he was ten...

He needed to make Gotham a safer place for his daughter, what better way than striking fear into criminals?

Some people of the general public are glad to have him, despite it being a mere eight percent. Everyone else fears him, except Gotham’s villains...and his own daughter. It didn’t take long for her to find out he was Batman. Then again, it’s not like Bruce was trying to keep it a secret from her.

As for the Batman plushie, it was a gift from Alfred to Amira, something about having Bruce always with her.

Bruce smiled at the plushie, getting up from the bed and tucking Amira in.

“As much as Gotham needs Batman, you also need me to tuck you into bed.”

“Dad, I’m seven. I can do it myself.”

“Does that mean you don’t want me to tuck you in anymore?” He watched as Amira pursed her lips before sinking into the comforter some more.

“I still like being tucked into bed.” Amira muttered, gaining a chuckle from Bruce. “Are we still going to the circus tomorrow?” Amira asked, springing up, watching her father’s face for some type of confirmation.

“Amira,” Bruce said with a frown, tucking one of her hair strands behind her ear. “Remember what we talked about?”

Amira hung her head, looking at Batman in her hands. It was times like this that Amira wished they never lived in Gotham, that her father wasn’t a billionaire...

“If it’s a place where the public knows you or a place that I can easily be spotted, I can’t go.” Amira recited, letting a frown replace her smile. She threw herself back onto her bed, throwing her comforter over her head.

Bruce let out a heavy huff.

“Goodnight.” He whispered, deciding to let her be. As soon as he stepped out of her room, Bruce faced Alfred.

“Is Miss Amira asleep already?” Alfred asked, motioning to the tray with a cup of milk. “She usually drinks a glass before going to sleep.”

“She’s awake, but I wonder if she would even talk.” When he saw Alfred lift a brow, Bruce decided to continue. “I told her she couldn’t join me to go watch the Haly’s Circus tomorrow. The press already knows I’m going, I can’t let them know about Amira just yet.”

“With all due respect Master Bruce,” Alfred began, opening the door to walk in. “The longer you keep hiding her from the public, the harder it will be to keep it that way. You can’t keep sheltering her away from a world she deserves to see. To be in.”

Bruce was left with those words in his mind, wondering what he should do.

Ever since he was assaulted, he vowed to protect Amira, even if it meant that she could not step foot outside the manor.

When she turned three, Bruce made sure to homeschool her, teaching her the basics of English, which included reading and writing. One she was five, he taught her the basics in math and science. As a side subject, Bruce was starting to teach her French, hoping to teach her mandarin when she grows older.

But now that Alfred was stating that Bruce should allow Amira to go out, Bruce wondered if he had been approaching this situation wrong this entire time.

But what if villains found out about her being his daughter? Of being a Way-

Bruce stood there in his thoughts for a while before an idea wouldn’t leave his head. Why didn’t he think about this sooner?

Amira let out a gasp as she entered the circus tent, gaping at how large it was, taken aback at how many people there were inside the tent.

There was even a second level inside the tent!

“Is it usually this crowded?” Amira asked the man next to her. Or rather, Tom Dupain - her ‘father.’

“I heard it’s like this because of Mr.Wayne visiting the circus today, but it usually is this crowded during Sunday shows.” Tom provided, watching as Amira continued to look around, a smile escaping him.

He always wondered what it felt like to have a child, wondering if he was even up to the task.

When Bruce Wayne had reached out to him to look after his daughter, Tom Dupain accepted the honor. After all, it was thanks to Bruce that his tiny bakery in Gotham was taking off, Tom’s dream of being a well known bakery taking form. All it took was one gala and Tom’s pastries for his dream to take off, Tom knowing he owed Bruce a huge favor.

He had met the young Wayne at that very gala, the girl having snuck into the kitchen to get a taste of one of his pastries. Amira Wayne - Tom only knew her as Amira and the granddaughter of Mr.Alfred Pennyworth. Tom didn’t think Amira was Bruce’s daughter as there was no news about the young Wayne.

While Tom had only known her for a few moments before Alfred shooed her away, Tom had grown a soft spot for the child.

“Mr.Dupain-”

“Tom is fine.”

“Mr.Tom,” Amira corrected herself. “Thank you for letting me be here today.” Amira said, holding Tom’s hand with both of hers.

Just as Tom was about to respond, the ringmaster chose that moment to begin the show.

Amira watched as the ringmaster welcomed the people and shouted out her father, seeing him across the tent, smiling when they saw each other.

The ringmaster then introduced the Flying Graysons, Amira’s eyes widening at how high up the family was. She wondered if her own father would allow her to be that high up.

With the cheering of the crowd, Amira watched with wonder as the Grayson’s started their performance, starting with a somersault. She watched as the man caught his wife with ease, the woman sending a salut before going onto the platform. Amira watched with absolutely glee as she watched the son do two somersaults in the air before returning back to the platform.

Amira listened as the ringmaster announced the Graysons' famous trick. Amira stood at the edge of her seat, feeling her heart thump loudly against her chest. She watched as the woman spun once, twice...thrice! But as soon as she was caught by her husband, the string of the bar snapped, Amira feeling her heart come to a stop.

She watched as the two fell and just as they were two were mere feet away from touching the ground, her eyes were covered.

Amira would never forget the screams she heard as she was ushered out of the tent. She heard Tom whisper to her that everything was going to be okay in rushed French.

That everything was fine.

That was the first and last time she was allowed to step out of the manor for a very long time.

#maribat #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #b!dbwm2020 #bio!dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #amira wayne #anju writes

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years ago

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End of the Tunnel: XI

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: a lil angst, fluff, language, and quick batch of public smut

MASTERLIST

***

It took them both a few days to fall back into the comfortable pattern they had once had.

George gained the habit of staring guiltily across the dinnertable while she sipped her tea. He softly flinched every time she touched him, apologizing when he eyes widened and lips parted to form her own apology. And while he longed to hold her in his sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to pull her into his arms without feeling like an imposter.

Hannah was fairing no better. While reading the paper she would glance at George, if only to check that he wasn’t glaring at her. She jumped whenever he walked into the room, worried that the accusations would soon follow. Every time she considered doing something nice she fretted, worried that he would look and see an off brand Fred wandering around their kitchen. And god, she wished he would hold her in his sleep, it was so terribly difficult to sleep without his arms holding her tight.

It had been a week since Hannah had come home, and they were eating dinner. She was trying to read the paper, but the feeling of George’s guilty eyes left her illiterate. Finally, in exhaustion, she slammed the paper down on the table and marched into the bathroom. She was going to fix this, she had to fix this, or damn it she was going to go crazy. After a quick pep talk that mostly involved deep breaths between each wave of panic, she returned to the kitchen.

“George, we’re going out.”

“What?”

“I’m not kidding, we’re going to go out, meet friends, and get absolutely plastered. I don’t care who you invite, but we’re going out before one of us explodes.”

“Hannah, I don’t-.”

“Tell me going nowhere but work and here have not driven you crazy, and we won’t. Tell me that the tension in this room isn’t killing you, and we won’t.” She tapped her foot on the floor as she waited for his response, and the grin she had missed so much spread across his face.

“Only if you wear the black dress.” She grinned and practically leaped over the table as she hugged him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before dashing towards the bathroom to get ready. With a smile that almost felt foreign he pulled out a pair of clean pants and shirt before ringing up Ron and Hermione.

To say Ron was surprised was an understatement but they quickly agreed.

“Draco will probably be there,” George warned and there was a pause on the other end of the line. He could hear hushed whispers on the other end of the line, most likely a small argument between Ron and Hermione.

“I’ll behave,” he said before pausing, surely waiting for Hermione to leave before adding, “as long as he does.” George chuckled and promised he would, praying that he was right. He hung up after telling Ron to meet them out front of the shop in half an hour.

“Mind if I use the phone, handsome?” came a soft purr from behind him, and when he turned, he remembered why he liked that dress so much. He kissed her before handing her the landline. “I want to invite Draco and Sloane, if that’s okay?”

“You said invite friends.” She grinned before dialing the phone.

“Hey, Sloane?” she began, pausing as her friend rattled on, full of bubbly excitement, “Yeah, yeah of course. Hey, get ready for a night out, grab Draco, and meet us outside George’s store in half an hour.” George could hear the squeal from where he was standing a few feet away. Hannah held the phone away from ear as she said goodbye, hanging up as the squeals ended. George leaned against the kitchen table, watching as Hannah practically burst with excitement. She stared at him for a moment before shuffling closer with a sly grin.

“What?” he asked but she didn’t say anything, only moved closer until she was positioned between his legs. She blinked innocently before guiding his lips down to hers with a gentle hand. He melted into her touch, hands reaching down to pull her closer. His fingers slid beneath the hem of her little, black dress. She grinned; biting is lip softly before pulling away.

“We should go,” she whispered, and he sent her a playful glare.

“So that’s your game?” he asked with a laugh and she shrugged, looking as innocent as the day she was born.

“Shall we?” she asked, offering her arm. He took it and with a resounding crack they arrived in front of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

Ron and Hermione were already there, locking up just as they arrived. Hannah unlatched herself from George and instantly began gushing over Hermione’s dress. It was a beautiful purple, and while it only sat an inch above her knee, its tight fit still managed to make her look absolutely sensual. She had straightened her hair, and Hannah couldn’t help but notice Ron’s inability to take his eyes off his beloved girlfriend.

No, it seemed she was something more, something that came with a shiny diamond ring.

“You’re engaged!” Hannah squealed, grasping Hermione’s hand with uncontained excitement. George glanced at Ron in surprise, who only shrugged. “Since when?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Hermione admitted, and Hannah faltered, the grin on her face dropping as she realized.

“Oh dear, we didn’t. I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Her own lovers spat had gotten in the way of such happy news, but Hermione wasn’t hearing any of her guilt.

“Hannah, I would much rather share it now that we can all be happy,” she promised, taking Hannah’s hands within her own and smiling. Hannah bit her lip, not quite sure how to proceed. Much to her relief, a loud crack interrupted her worries. Sloane and Draco arrived, arm in arm, and Sloane, ever the reporter, noticed the brilliant diamond right away.

“Engaged?” she squealed, and Hermione nodded, a little surprised at this stranger’s excitement.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hannah laughed, “Hermione, this is Sloane Richards, a dear friend of mine. Sloane, this Hermione Granger.”

“Oh, I think I’ve read your articles,” Hermione admitted, “I appreciate your attention to facts.” But Sloane was too busy vibrating with excitement.

“You’re the Hermione Granger, as in war hero, brightest witch of your age, punched Draco Malfoy in the nose, Hermione Granger,” Hermione giggled at the last of the accomplishments and Sloane beamed before glancing from Hermione to Ron who was standing awkwardly beside George. “And you’re Ron Weasley, my god Hannah, you didn’t tell me celebrities were going to be here, I would have dressed up more.”

“You look beautiful,” Draco said before possessively taking her by the waist.

“He flatters me,” she laughed throwing an arm around his shoulders, “But on a more serious note, I need a drink, the Prophet has laid permanent residence inside my ass.” Ron choked and Hermione blushed at her statement, but the rest nodded in agreement.

“There’s a bar next door,” George offered, and they all nodded in agreement before walking the few feet down the pavement. The girls instantly grouped up, gossiping about something or another while the boys were left in the back, awkwardly watching their girlfriends.

The bar was dimly lit with soft purple lightbulbs. Sloane quickly offered to by the drinks before dragging Draco with her towards the bar.

“Well, she’s a lively one,” Ron chuckled, narrowly avoiding Hermione’s elbow, “I’m just saying.”

“I think she’s lovely, from the rumors I’ve heard around the office she’s who you want if the Prophet’s going to interview you. Sticks to the facts, absolutely thrashes anyone who dares to report false information.”

“Oh come off it, you just like her because she’s the one who got Rita Skeeter sacked,” Ron drawled and Hermione blushed. Hannah sidled into George’s side as she watched the fiancés bicker across the table.

Sloane and Draco returned with six bottles of the bars strongest fire whiskey, and it wasn’t before long when they were as thrashed as they had intended. All six were howling with drunken laughter as George told a story about Ron when he had first developed a crush on Hermione.

“He practiced in front of the mirror for months, months I’m telling you!”

“She’s a frightening woman,” Ron defended through hysterics, which only made the rest of the group laugh harder. “Not that it matters, I got her, and you’re all invited to the wedding,” he announced.

Laughter continued to reigned at their little table, and it wasn’t until Sloane and Draco had disappeared for a solid ten minutes when Ron noticed they were missing. “Where’d those two go?” he asked, causing Hannah and Hermione to burst into laughter.

“They’re in the bathroom,” Hannah whispered through giggles and Ron scrunched up his nose.

“They’re completely unhinged,” he said, causing the group to burst into laughter once more.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that,” George whispered into Hannah’s ear, relishing in the sight of the blush that crept up her cheeks. She snuggled closer into his arm with a grin. She was going to respond before she noticed Ron earning a playful slap for making the same suggestion. Hermione was still dying of laughter, but it was clear she was not shagging in some dirty bathroom.

When Sloane and Draco returned, both significantly more ruffled than when they had left, George let out a whistle. Sloane bowed and Draco smirked, still buttoning his shirt. Draco ordered their fifth round of drinks and they downed them with ease. The laughter continued for another half an hour when Hermione suddenly stood, announcing she had to use the loo, asking Hannah and Sloane if they’d like to join her. They all stood and Ron, in his drunken stupor began to protest.

“Sloane, if you shag my girlfriend I’ll have to fight you,” he yelled, sending the girls away giggling. He dropped back into his seat and shook his head as he took another swig of Fire whiskey.

George wasn’t sure if Ron was worried or not.

“Hey, listen Draco,” Ron slurred, his mind quickly falling away from bathroom shenanigans. “I’m sorry about the gala, sometimes I’m just a bigoted fuck,” he announced, and Draco shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, we’ve all been there, judging for family, but damn, I think I just wanted to punch you.” He got a laugh out of that.

“Well, you succeeded,” Draco responded coolly, and George nudged him, silently begging for Hannah’s sake that he would accept the apology. “It’s behind me, let bygones be bygones.” It seemed he had read George’s mind. The boys settled into drunk silence. Draco and George chuckling when Ron tipped forward and began snoring.

The girls returned from the bathroom, laughing at Ron’s snores as they settled back into their chairs. Pleasant conversation continued around the sleeping lump, but it wasn’t long before the rest began to feel the lethargic effects of the liquor.

Quickly paying their tab, the couples stepped into the street. Ron and Hermione walked down the street, laughing all the way as Ron kept trying to grab Hermione’s ass, while singing drinking songs he had learned from one of his older brothers. Sloane and Draco were even handsier, hands never leaving the other as they waved a slurred goodbye and apparating back home. George offered his hand to Hannah, glancing at her when she didn’t take it.

“Were you serious about that bathroom?” she whispered nervously, and he nodded, grinning all the while. Suddenly, with a grin to match his she dragged him back inside and towards the bathroom. He locked the door behind them, setting her on the sink as he slid her dress to her waist. She fiddled with his belt before tossing it to the floor and unbuttoning his pants.

A knock on the door froze them both as they tried to silence their laughter. The handle jiggled before the person disappeared, and then they were jumping each other once more. He slid into her, thumbing the sensitive bud that resided above her entrance. She covered her mouth as she tried to silence her moans, but it wasn’t doing much. She leaned back into the grimy mirror, reaching for anything to steady her as he thrust into her.

“Fuck,” he growled in pleasure and frustration. It was the first time they had had sex in weeks, and he was already close. He tried to hold off, think of anything to keep his release away, but it was an exercise in futility. She was too warm, too soft, and too inviting. The rhythm of his hips stuttered, and she was crying out, nails digging into his shoulders as she came. He followed quickly after, grateful for the release.

They pressed sweaty foreheads together as they giggled, ignoring the annoyed demands to be let into the restroom.

“I think he wants to get in,” she whispered breathlessly.

“He’s awfully impatient, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.”

“I think we’ll leave it locked,” George said with a grin before apparating them back to his apartment.

“George!” She playfully slapped him, and George shrugged.

“He’s a wizard, he’ll figure it out.” She laughed before yanking him towards the bed and crashing into the covers for round two, and as many rounds as it took to make up for lost time.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley smut #george weasley fanfic #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader fanfiction #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley x reader fanfic #George weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x reader fluff #george weasley x reader angst #end of the tunnel

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okitodorokidoki · 4 years ago

Text

a28+34 | miyuki kazuya

pairing - miyuki kazuya x fem!reader genre - angst, fluff wc - 2121 ao3 - author’s note at bottom

PROMPTS 28 “I care about you.” 34 “Please don’t do this.”

Looking back on your relationship with Miyuki, there were a lot of moments that were questioned by people on the outside. Moments that the two of you knew were teasing or joking were blown out of proportion by people who may have overheard, either from the two of you or someone else. Your relationship always felt like it was on a seesaw, the two of you on each end with the occasional hijacker dragging you down before the other was ready.

You lasted an entire year before you felt like you had to take a step back. You couldn’t even consider it a break in your relationship, it was really just a “I have a lot going on in my head right now and I would appreciate if I could just take a moment to myself to relax.” When that was over, you came to him with your sorted thoughts and talked things through. Miyuki had never seemed like the kind to be a good communicator in a relationship, but he seemed to realize that if he wanted the joy of tormenting someone, he had to take the responsibility of not chasing them away.

Now, on your final year in college, it finally felt like things were getting to be too much. You’d gotten through the high school fan girls, the injuries, the late nights, the bad rumors, the days with no updates outside of catching him in the hallways. But now, as you read the article written about how he was a prospective pick across the country, you finally felt like something was trying to take him from you. It had been smooth sailing, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t be torn apart by anything petty going on around you. But now, seeing a real-life decision he would have to make- one that would positively effect his life for years to come- you could feel the weight pressing down on your chest.

He was supposed to come by your dorm for movie night, but part of you wanted to text him to cancel. You knew it was childish, getting upset that he was such a good player that he was desired across the country, but that didn’t change the fact that you were upset. Looking over at your phone, resting innocently on your nightstand, you weighed your options for a moment, before remembering your occasional movie nights were some of the only times the two of you had alone together.

Closing the magazine, you picked up your phone and set the cause of your turmoil down. You were going to feel upset, and you were going to have movie night. One of those things couldn’t take a rain-check, so you figured you’d have to take a nice shower and shove your emotions down.

You dried your hair as you sat on the foot of your bed, waiting for Kazuya to show up. There were maybe five minutes left before you chose what movie you wanted to watch without him. Youtube was playing on your phone beside you, a random playlist of videos that always made you laugh when you weren’t feeling too hot.

The knock on the door was barely audible from under your towel, and your sheets nearly brought you to the ground as you stood too quickly. A brief litany of curses slipped as you rushed to the door, opening it to see you boyfriend.

“Miss me?” He asked with his usual grin.

You snorted and tugged him in by his t-shirt, watching his grin quickly disappear to give you a kiss.

“If I said yes, your head wouldn’t fit through the doorway.”

He snickered and followed you inside, locking the door behind him. “You didn’t pick out a movie without me, did you?”

“Yes. It’s a real tear-jerker, you won’t ever see love the same again.”

“Oh, porn?”

You grabbed a throw pillow as you passed the couch and tossed it expertly behind your shoulder. His snickering persisted through the solid ‘thump’ of it making contact, so you took a moment to curse his catcher’s instinct.

“You said you saw one you wanted to watch last time, right?” You asked, getting comfortable on your bed.

“Yeah, I added it to your watch later list.” He shut your bedroom door before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of your door.

“You better not have ruined my algorithm.”

“You don’t think that docu-series you watched at 3am instead of studying did enough damage?” He climbed on the bed, and settled in next to you, casually throwing an arm over your pillows for you to lean back into him.

“No, because that was exactly what I want to watch more of.”

It wasn’t long before the movie he’d chosen caught your eye, and you dimmed your bedside light before snuggling securely into his side as it began.

“This isn’t going to make me cry, is it?” You asked.

“Everything makes you cry.”

Your hand shot out, but he grabbed your wrist before your fingers could pinch into his side. “Ah-ah! This is sweet boyfriend-girlfriend time, no place for your meanery!”

“Kazuya, that’s not even a word, you bas-” his hand released your wrist to pinch your lips shut.

You glared up at him and he grinned, leaning in for a quick peck to your squished lips. Letting out a huff, you scrunched your nose at him before turning back to the tv. The introductory scene hadn’t even finished before you were adjusting, feeling a mild pinch in your lower spine from laying on your back.

“Aw, baby wanna cuddle?” Kazuya teased, holding you closer.

“Don’t be an ass,” you mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your head.

Another five minutes of movie passed, Kazuya’s hand rubbing your arm making you feel all warm and fuzzy, skin tingling pleasantly under his touch. The plot had begun, and you were already setting up three different endings in your head for the cheesy romance they were spinning.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!” The main lead said to his girlfriend. “If I stay here with you for the rest of my life, what will I even become?”

That definitely threw a wrench into all three of your predictions.

“You said you loved me! That you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me!” She cried back. “Does your stupid job really mean more to you than I do?”

“You know that isn’t fair! I’m not leaving you, I’m just trying to move on with my life! Maybe you should do the same!”

The lame, admittedly unrealistic dialogue on screen felt like it was aiming to punch you in the gut. Everything you were thinking of before your shower came back, and you felt like you were manually keeping yourself breathing. Everything felt weighed down once more, and the hand gently caressing you was beginning to feel like it was burning. You suddenly raised your arm, throwing Kazuya’s off of you as you sat up.

“Babe?” He asked, starting to sit up with a concerned expression.

“I didn’t get drinks. Or snacks.” You got off your bed as casually as possible, trying to remember how to open a door like a human being so you could escape to the kitchen with little to no suspicion.

You opened your fridge, and leaned into the chill. It was a bit too much around your ears where your hair was just a little damp, but it felt like you needed it. You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself before grabbing a drink from the fridge, gently closing it once more as you set your find on the counter. You glanced back down the hallway, your door was undisturbed from where you left it, cracked open just a bit.

You leaned against the counter, head bowing as you collected your thoughts. On a normal day, you’d just start telling Kazuya how bad the dialogue was, or how you would have framed the scene differently, but today all you could think of was how that scene would push its way into your life.

How would Kazuya start the conversation? You felt like he wouldn’t come in guns blazing yelling that it was his life, and he could do whatever he wanted. You hoped he knew that you would never try to drag him down or hold him back, that you would love and support him no matter how much it hurt to see him go. You put your hand over your face as you felt your eyes burning, willing your emotions to calm down before you started to look like you’d been crying. A slight touch at your back had you leaping, a ragged gasp tearing from your throat. You turned, eyes wide to see Kazuya standing there with an upset expression.

“Ah- sorry,” you said, turning back to making drinks. “Just got a bit of a headache.”

“Baby...” you froze as Kazuya’s arm slid around you, coaxing you closer. “Please don’t do this.”

You took a breath, prepared to find another cover-up, but nothing would come out. You melted into him, turning your head to press your forehead against his collarbone as his arms wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, chin bumping your head. “I was honestly waiting for you to say something like ‘this dialogue is so forced’ or ‘if he loved her he’d talk with her and wouldn’t need to yell.’ I didn’t think you would be hurt.”

“I’m… I’m scared, Kazuya.” His arms tightened around you at your words. “I care about you. I’ve cared about you since we were in high school, and I knew nothing would ever happen to us because we were always there. Even when we couldn’t see each other, we were at least both on campus. But if you-”

Your voice cracked, and you pressed a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from crying. This wasn’t something you wanted to cry over. This was his future, you were happy for him, you would stand by him through everything. But you wouldn’t be standing by him. You probably wouldn’t even be able to make it to most of his games anymore, at least not for a while. One of his arms slid up to hold your head to his chest, and he started to sway slightly as you listened to his heartbeat.

“I want to move forward in life,” he said. “And I want to do it with you. I don’t care how far apart we are, we’ve made it through this much shit already. Besides, I hear doing it over facetime is-”

You throat constricted on a mix between a choke and a sob, Kazuya patting your back and laughing.

“Better?” He asked.

You nodded, turning your body to properly wrap your arms around him.

“I love you,” he said. “Don’t you ever forget it. I know I’m an ass, but do you think I’d pull my punches if I didn’t love you?”

“You pull your punches because you know I’ll make you cry, pretty boy,” You mumbled into his chest.

“Yes, yes, my ferocious little girlfriend knows all of my weaknesses.” He pressed another kiss to your head. “Now can she get us drinks so we can stay hydrated while we tear this movie apart limb by limb?”

You snorted, and pulled away wiping your nose pathetically with your sleeve.

“Can she also change her shirt before we cuddle again?”

“You’ve got more snot on you than I do, pretty boy!”

“Ah, your cutting words! How will I ever recover?”

You gave his arm a half-hearted swat as he turned to your pantry for snacks.

“But seriously,” he said over his shoulder. “Even if I get drafted halfway across the world, I’m tossing you in my duffel bag and taking you with me. There’s no way I’d survive all these self-centered pitchers if I can’t rest my head on my girlfriend’s thighs and let me woes escape me.”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Kazuya. You were almost being sweet.”

He stuck his tongue out at you, and you returned the gesture. Some things really hadn’t changed since high school, but as you curled back up to his side in your bed, tearing the characterization of the main lead to shreds, you realized that even if some things went away, they’d only make way for new ones.

“So, I know you didn’t seem to positive the first time I brought it up, but seriously, facetime can be an incredibly efficient method of-”

“Keep it up and you won’t get any methods.”

He snickered, placing another kiss to your head.

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month because I lost my banners 😭😭 I thought I’d come back to it when I found them but I completely forgot until now with everything going on. I've also never done an author's note on here before but I’ve felt weirdly,,, muted on my own blog so I hope you don’t mind I start doing them! I still like having nothing but the info at the top though so unfortunately I’m hiding myself at the End </3

#daiya no ace #daiya no ace x reader #daiya no ace imagine #miyuki kazuya #miyuki x reader #miyuki imagine #ace of diamond #ace of diamond x reader #ace of diamond imagine

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death-is-a-new-beginning · 5 years ago

Note

if you still write for cisco, i’d like ro request a smut (if you do them, its okay if not)! he and the reader are together but its a secret. she’s been bratty and teasing him all day. cisco tries to keep his cool but he’s obviously breaking, so she snaps hia final straw by flirting with barry (before iris & him are together). something inside him snaps and he drags her to his lab and fucks her senseless and overstimulates her. thank you in advance!!

A/N: Ooh I would love to do this for you! This is my first time writing smut but I'm going to do my best. Sorry it took so long! I wanted to make sure I got this right. I hope you like it! Also requests are open, feel free to request some more fics!

Word Count: 2699

__________________________________________________________________

All damn day. All damn day y/n had been teasing Cisco. He was going absolutely mad because all he wanted to do was pull her onto his lap and kiss her senseless and do so many things just to hear her scream Papi, the way she did when she finally released her control. God just thinking about it made him want her that much more. But he couldn't do anything because they were keeping their relationship on the down low.

She was wearing normal clothes that normally would not call attention to her but for some reason it looked so good on her. It had been cold outside so she had worn a black hoodie with the S.T.A.R Labs logo on it and some dark jeans with red converse, totally normal clothes. But something about those jeans made her butt look a type of way that he just wanted to smack. At some point during the day in between missions the temperature had gotten warm and y/n took off her hoodie to reveal one of Cisco's new t-shirts he'd gotten recently with a mathematical equation written on it. It was like she was trying to get them outted. She looked at him smirking, knowing full well what wearing his clothes did to him. She then circled him like a temptress and reached over the control table for a her pen and came dangerously close to his face, he could feel her breath fanning him, her lips inches from him. It was like a mental battle they were fighting to see who would give in first. He was oh so close and willing to give in if it meant having her close to him.

After a few seconds of making intense eye contact, she smiled sweetly and said "Sorry Pap-Cisco I can't seem to reach my pen, do you mind passing it to me?"

He quickly passed it to her, swallowing thickly suddenly so thirsty, with a thirst that no amount of water could quench but time alone with her. He stood up abruptly and said, "No problem at all," and quickly exited the room, he need to get out of there. Barry would be back from the police department soon and he didn't want them to catch them doing something deliciously indecent. Not to mention Caitlin was working with them as well so it would just be problematic all the way around.

The rest of the day seemed to pass by agonizingly. With "accidental" brushes of skin in passing or flirty glances and there may have been something with a lollipop and a fake innocent laugh, he was at his wits end and about ready to burst, not caring about exposing their relationship. Later that day, they were working on some tech for Barry's suit when Cisco made a comment about her not programming something correctly and she just flipped him off.

"Like you never make a mistake? Geez, I'm already fixing it. Get off my back cowboy." The sexual frustration was translating over into just straight frustration with each other.

"Rarely do I make a mistake that would end in our friend getting killed," he fired back at her, immediately regretting it but he couldn't take it back.

"Fine, Mr. Perfect finish this yourself. I need a break anyways," she huffed and dropped the tools she was using and was already out of the room before he could call her back.

When Barry walked into the metahuman jail section, he noticed y/n sitting down on the floor reading a book about Quantum Physics, trying to come up with new ways to help Barry's suit phase with him more smoothly.

"It looks like you're doing some light reading," he joked, sitting next to her.

She laughed, "Yep, I needed a distraction before actually punching someone in the face. Maybe you know a guy on which I could use as a punching bag?"

Barry's eyebrow raised inquisitively, "Who do you want to punch in the face? Who hurt you?" He began laughing and bumped her shoulder with his.

"That is a can of worms I'm not sure we want to open muchacho," she joked with a bright smile, already feeling better, she hated arguing with Cisco, especially when it came to keeping Barry safe or when he felt like she wasn't doing a good enough job.

"How about you give me a list of names and I'll be back in like two minutes with the names crossed off with thorough lessons learned?"

"You think you could get it done in two minutes? Its quite a long list. I think it would take five minutes at least."

"Dang how long are we talking?" He asked.

"You know that episode of SpongeBob where the list just keeps going like out of his house or what not? Yeah about that long," she chuckled.

Barry cracked his knuckles and stood up, "Okay, no time like the present, give me the names and I'll beat their ass," she stood up while laughing then said, "Easy there Sonic, you need to fuel up and check in with Caitlin for your normal check up."

About thirty minutes later when she hadn't returned, Cisco went to go find her, he was worried he might have took it too far. He passed by the metahuman holding cells and heard her laughter mixing with Barry's. They were making their way to the entrance, he heard Barry ask her if there was anything he could do to help her and she said a hug would work. He watched them hug, her arms were around his neck which made her shirt rise up a little so Barry's hands were on her bare skin. After a few seconds they pulled away, with a sigh she sent him on his way to Caitlin and sighed before turning to go back to where Cisco was only to come face to face with a pissed off Cisco.

Y/n stopped in her tracks, a pissed off Cisco was probably one of the hottest thing to witness, but his anger was directed towards her, she could detect that much.

"What the hell Y/n? I know we want to keep our relationship on the DL but flirting with Barry? What the actual hell?" The realization that Cisco was jealous of Barry, for no reason, made her laugh.

"What is so funny?" Cisco asked almost yelling. He couldn't take it anymore, he felt so possessive and seeing them hug was the straw that broke this camels back. He would show her who she belonged to, as much as he belonged to her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into a secret room he had found the first year he started working at the lab. He sometimes slept there when he was working late. It had a mattress he'd secretly brought a few years ago.

He locked the door and like a predator hunting his prey, he pounced. He pushed her up against the wall, he had placed his hand behind her head to protect it, just like guys do in anime. His eyes darkened when he saw how turned on she was. He almost growled, "You're mine. Only mine, and I'm yours," he pressed his lips to hers passionately and it was on. A fight for dominance began but one he was winning. He smiled in the kiss and pulled away. Her eyes slowly opened, she was panting hard. His hands had moved down from her head to her side sliding his hand under his shirt she was wearing until he reached her breasts and he squeezed her the way she liked.

She moaned softly with this action her eyes growing dark and his hand were on the move again, unbottoning her jeans and reaching for the one place she ached for. When he reached that place his hands slowly circled her mound so slow that it was almost agonizing.

"All day you've been taunting me, being cute, wearing my shirt, being a brat. You even flirted with Barry! Well baby girl, you messed with the bull, prepare to get the horns." His voice deepened and the Cisco that only she gets to see came forward. He removed his hand, the source of her pleasure, which made her whine in desperation.

"Take off everything. Now." He demanded.

"Yes S-sir." She stuttered, at times she was unprepared for the shift in dominance with Cisco. Most of the time he was laid back and nerdy as all get out, but here and right now Papi Cisco was present and demanded respect. This made her want him all that much more. She removed her articles of clothing one by one. His eyes raked over her as he licked his lips.

“Now get on all fours on the mattress. You know what to do, you’ve been a bad girl and it’s time to get punished,” She complied, her bum was up slightly. She stared ahead at the metal wall. He took off his shirt, and approached her his hands squeezing her ass, massaging it.

“You’ve been bad baby girl, being so beautiful and flirty with me all day when we are trying to keep our relationship under wraps. You’ve been pushing my buttons. You’re going to count to three okay?” He asked kindly.

“Okay,” She said.

“Okay what?” He asked.

“Okay sir,” She replied with a smile on her face.

“Good girl, let’s begin,” He spanked her, it was a solid spank that didn’t hurt but made heat pool down her body. “One,” she moaned. The second and third followed suit with more pressure in each spank. After he was done, he massaged her butt, there was a bit of redness but he would make sure she wasn’t in any discomfort. He peppered kisses on her ass which made her moan, the soft touches were driving her crazy. He took those kisses lower until he reached her lips, licking down her strip, moaning at how wet she was for him.

“Please, Cisco,” she mewled, all she wanted was for him to finish what he started over and over again.

“No Mamas, you teased me, now its my turn. On your back baby girl. You’re not allowed to touch yourself,” she turned over, laying on some firm pillows that gave her the support she’d definitely need soon. When she looked at him, he was putting his hair up with a hair tie and there was a few strands that would always fall loose no matter how hard she tried. He looked beautiful, she enjoyed seeing all the different sides of him, they often face so much danger which is why they decided they wouldn't tell anyone until they were sure it would last.

He kneeled onto the mattress and made his way to her, like a predator hunting for his prey and he looked hungry. Like he’d eat her whole. She almost moaned at the thought. When he reached her, he was hovering above her, mere inches from her lips.

“May I kiss you?” He asked, even when he was in dominant mode, he always asked her for consent, always made sure she was okay. The respect alone made her love him so much more. She wanted him to do more that kiss her, she wanted him to fuck her so good and then make love to her, the order in which that happened did not matter.

“Yes, you can kiss me. I hope you plan on fucking me too though,” with that he smiled and smashed his lips to hers, sucking on her bottom lip a little before slipping his tongue in to her mouth. His hands wandered to her breasts, squeezing her nipples roughly which made her moan into his mouth and arch her back. His hand continued his journey down her body and between her legs, she was so sensitive and swollen there. He rubbed in circles then in 8 rotation movements. And with two fingers he entered her, he started pumping the digits in and out of her. She began moaning, her hips trying to meet his fingers with each thrust.

After a few moments of fingering her, on the brink of her orgasm, he stopped. He slid his fingers out and she clenched around the absence of his fingers. He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them, tasting her while making direct eye contact. He smirked, he planned on edging her for while before letting her finish.

“Please Cisco, I was so close,” she pleaded. Aching to finish the job herself.

“No baby girl you’re not allowed to cum until I say so, understand?”

“Yes, sir, “ she conceded. He placed one more kiss on her lips before moving down her body, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way between her legs. Then he started sucking and licking and tonguing her entrance, He could feel her start to clench around him and so he stopped. Again. He robbed her from completion again, he kissed her thighs as he sat up on his knees. He unbuckled his belt and undid his pants. He stood up pulling the last remaining clothing off. He was standing there in all his glory. He pulled a condom from his wallet and gave himself a few pumps until he was hard enough to put the condom off.

When he was ready he climbed back to her rubbing himself at her entrance, to which she moaned. He kissed her and pushed his way inside of her, they both moaned, he stretched her so well, he waited a bit to let her adjust and then began to move slowly, in and out of her. Her legs were wrapped around his waist trying to meet each thrust. He kissed her harder as he started to speed up, hitting the spot that made her go wild.

He then slowed and came to a stop as she came close once again and came to a halt. She huffed in frustration, but then Cisco moved to his knees whilst still inside her, she was clenching and unclenching around him which almost made his control waver. He lifter her legs to be on either side of his neck and he put a pillow under her bum so she was comfortable. He held her legs together and started to thrust into her deeper and harder than before, she was screaming in pleasure, which made Cisco glad he had sound proofed the room.

¨Papi, please let me cum. I´ll be a good girl. Daddy please,¨ she recited like a prayer, she wasn´t sure she could prolong her orgasm if she tried. He was fucking her so good.

¨Cum now baby girl,¨ he demanded and she experienced the strongest orgasm she´d ever had. The man was Gandalf at making her cum. How he learned all of these techniques was beyond her. As she rode the high down, he continued to thrust until he came not too long after she had finished. He pulled out, he cum slipping out of her lips. He slowly lowered her legs down and went down on her, lapping up her juices, cleaning her, and sucking her sensitive clit, she didn´t think it was possible, but she ended up coming again for the second time.

He cuddled her and she came down another high, panting. “I’m glad I was being a bad girl today.” She said with a laugh.

-A few days later-

Y/n was hanging with the gang in the main control area, laughing and joking around with Barry and Caitlin. Cisco walks into the room, strolls over to her, mumbling something like “Fuck it” and spins her to him and kisses her in front of everyone, she kisses him back on instinct. After a moment, he pulls away and looks around the room and says, “She’s mine.” then he struts out back to his lab.

“I knew it! Barry you owe me $100.” Caitlin said excitedly while clapping.

Y/N just sits there in shock of what happened. “Wait you guys had a bet going?” She exclaimed.

-Fin-

#cisco ramon x reader #Cisco Ramon trash #cisco ramon #The Flash #flash x reader #cisco ramon smut

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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I Could Be Your Sometimes Part Four

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only Notes: Set before the series Texts with times in front of them and no name or initials in front of them indicate reader’s texts

Warnings: Eventual infidelity and sexual content. If you dislike this, please don’t read. Thank you. Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader Summary: Laurie was where my communication with the Barber family started and stopped for about two weeks.

I learned that Laurie was one of those people that texted an upside-down smiley face to mean things like ‘no problem!’ and not ‘I’m dying inside!’ like the rest of the world. She and I had promised to keep in touch-- right before I’d had nearly forty uninterrupted minutes with Andy. Forty minutes that I had absolutely tried not to dwell on but had definitely spent way too much of my downtime dissecting. Laurie and I didn’t text one another constantly. Now and again she’d send me an article that she thought I might find interesting, or I’d link her to a podcast that I thought might suit her tastes. But Laurie was where my communication with the Barber family started and stopped for about two weeks. That is, until I got a call on my cell phone at 8:06 pm on Thursday from a number I didn’t know. I hesitated in picking it up -- it was rare that a client or a source called me that late unless it was an emergency. I was still at the office, and I was dreading the prospect of what had become a late night becoming an even later one. “Hello?” I answered it, grimacing. “You hungry?” Andy’s voice crackled over the line. My brow furrowed. “How did you get my number?” I asked. “From Laurie’s phone,” was his easy answer, “You hungry?” “Is this part of some kind of town-wide survey I don’t know about? Like is this where my tax-payer dollars are going?” “Yes or no, c’mon, I‘m getting cold out here.” I frowned, pushing myself up from my desk and walking over to the window. I looked outside to see Andy there, leaning against my car and looking up at the building. Why was he here this late? Shouldn’t he be getting home? Why was he even calling me-- “Give me five minutes,” I said. That talk that I’d given myself about boundaries hadn’t exactly sunk in.

-- “I don’t know,” Andy shook his head as he loosened his tie, “I mean on the one hand I’ve sort of mentored the guy, but... He’s been more outwardly ambitious lately. Not gunning for our boss’ job, but talking about what he’d do differently if he was in her position.” “I mean, that’s not the worst thing in the world. I don’t always agree with Nora, sometimes there are things that I think she could be doing differently.” “Yeah, but do you go around to your coworkers and discuss them?” Andy asked. I shook my head. “Exactly,” He muttered before he picked his water up for a drink. I considered this for a moment. “Well... I think you have to decide what’s more important to you: your interpersonal relationships or office politics. You say you’ve mentored the guy-- ‘sort of’ mentored the guy, but he’s been vocal about disagreeing with you boss. If you stick too close to him, that could signal to your boss that you’re not on her side, even if you are,” I offered, “And it doesn’t mean that you can’t be friends with the guy, but sometimes that bit of distance is important.” God, did I sound like a fucking hypocrite or what? Our conversation was interrupted by our food arriving. “Alright, the fact that you have a ‘late-night usual’ here is making me a little worried,” Andy commented, watching as I picked up one of my fries. We’d wound up at Harvey’s Diner around the corner from my office building - which was only a few blocks from the court house. “We’re a small firm, sometimes things are all-hands-deck. And sometimes it’s not even work related, sometimes I just want a grilled cheese with bacon and tomato and like, ten o’clock,” I shrugged, “I have to call to get it delivered, they’re not on Seamless or anything. They know me.” "Well, that only makes me slightly less worried,” Andy said. I snorted. “Which is pretty hypocritical, considering the fact that you’re here right now,” I pointed out. “I mean, yeah, but I at least had to look at the menu,” Andy argued. “Whatever,” I waved it off, “What’s got you here so late, anyway?” “I had a conference call with a witness that’s in LA right now. They had to take a trip, family business,” Andy said. We both went quiet as we tucked into our food, I into my grilled cheese, and Andy into his burger. “How often would you say you stay at work late?” He asked. I folded my arms on the table, raising a brow. “Why do you ask?” “Just...Ballpark, how often would you say you’ve stayed late over the last couple of weeks?” I narrowed my eyes at him. This felt like a trap. “Ballpark? Three times.” “Eight,” Andy corrected. “Have you been spying on me? Weirdo,” I accused, pointing at him with a fry. “I drive past your office on my way home. Once I realized it was your car...” He trailed off, “I’m just saying, if I’m heading home before you do that often, there might be a problem.” "We’ve been busy, is all. We’re in the process of hiring new people, but until we’re able to, the work still has to get done,” I excused. Andy’s leg brushed against mine under the table before it settled there, his foot hooking around the back of my ankle. I frowned at him, curious. “You’re too young to start burning out,” He chided softly. “I’m not burnt out yet. You can’t have this conversation with me for at least another week,” I teased, knocking my knee against his gently. He smiled, but he shook his head. "Yeah, well, I’d rather not worry about you the entire drive home for another week,” He said. I dropped my eyes to my plate, picking up another fry and swirling it around my little splodge of ketchup. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I absolved him. "Logically, no, I don’t. That doesn’t stop me from worrying, though,” He murmured. I chanced a glance at his face, and immediately realized I shouldn’t have - he was watching me with this almost nervous care, like he’d frighten me off if he spoke any louder or leaned in too close. And maybe he would. I was already alarmed by my rekindled interest in the guy. It was as hopeless as it was when I was younger. Nothing was going to happen between the two of us, no matter how much I thought about it. I shook my head. “You’ve got more important shit to worry about,” I passed it off before nodding to his burger, “Like your food getting cold.” “We need to have a serious talk about your self-esteem if you think you rank below a burger on my list of priorities,” Andy raised a brow. I shouldn’t even be on your list of priorities, I thought, and I was itching to say it, but instead I shrugged. “I just know my own worth and how good the burgers are here,” I said. Andy looked like he was preparing to wind up for another pass at whatever this conversation was. “What’d you wind up doing with that pro-bono case?” I asked, diverting him before he could say anything else. He cut me a look that told me that he knew exactly what I was doing, but he didn’t call me out on it. “I managed to talk my boss into taking the legalese case, backed it with the reasoning you and I talked about.” "Wow,” I said, brows raising, “She went for that?” "It was solid reasoning,” Andy defended, shifting in his seat and leaning back in the booth, “Besides, when we win, we can point back to the firm that gave us the defense.” “When, huh?” I repeated, “Someone’s feeling good about it.” ”Yeah, well, I know what I’m doing,” Andy said firmly. I shook my head at the cocky smile that had overtaken his face. “And that confidence, that’s never bitten you in the ass?” I asked. “Nope,” Andy said, popping the ‘p’ as he leaned forward, picking his water up. “Maybe I should’ve included the definition of ‘hubris’ somewhere in those slides,” I sighed, then gasped when Andy flicked the cold condensation from his glass at me. “Rude, Barber!” -- “What’d you forget?” Andy’s voice was close behind me as I pulled my ID badge out to swipe into my office building. I turned around to face him, frowning. “Ah...Nothing?” “Cause your car is right there,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. I folded my arms over my chest, giving him a stern look. “I still have work to do,” I reminded him. Andy sighed, lowering his eyes and shaking his head. “You should go home,” He argued. "I will, yeah, once I’m finished,” I agreed. I took another step back toward my building, adding, “Thank you dinner.” I watched Andy lift his eyes to mine before he sucked that plush lower lip between his teeth, clearly wanting to say something else. “Sure,” He said finally. He stepped closer, arms open, and I let myself be drawn into a hug, my face pressed into the collar of his peacoat. "Please don’t stay too late,” He urged quietly, breath ruffling my hair. “I won’t,” I mumbled, “It’s just some finishing touches on a few slides-- But if I tell myself I’ll do it in the morning, I’ll be up all night thinking about it.” Andy stepped back, looking down at me. He gave my arm a light squeeze before letting go. “Text me when you get home,” He said. I nodded, watching him walk away and immediately missing his warmth. -- (6:21 AM) AB: I never got a text and I’m hoping that’s not because you slept at your office. I had woken up to that text and had been almost stunned by it. Some part of me had almost thought that the night before had been some kind of ridiculous daydream, but there was Andy’s text, on my screen, chastising me for not keeping my promise. (7:39 AM) My desk chair actually folds out.

I’d sent the text off and gotten up, going about my morning routine. When I picked my phone up, I saw that I’d gotten a response, but I put off reading it. I didn’t want to get too used to this, this contact. It was better if my Barber interactions went through Laurie. I had spent far too long at my office last night mulling over our dinner, over Andy’s comment about his priorities, over the feeling of his leg resting against mine. I waited until I was back at my desk at nearly 9 to see what he’d texted me. (8:02 AM) AB: You’re kidding, but I wouldn’t put it past you. (8:33 AM) AB: ... You are kidding, right?

I held off answering until I’d settled in, checked my emails, gotten a few things sorted. (9:34 AM) Thanks again for dinner.

(9:36 AM) AB: You didn’t answer about the desk chair and now I’m really worried that you weren’t kidding. (9:46 AM) Shouldn’t you be in court? (9:47 AM) AB: Who says I’m not? (9:59 AM) Common sense, mostly.

(10:04 AM) AB: I’m in my office. (10:39 AM) AB: Hungry? (10:52 AM) Is that all you think about? Food? (11:03 AM) AB: We could grab lunch. I bet you have a regular lunch order at Harvey’s that I don’t know about. What was he doing? There was no way he was this worried about whether or not I was taking care of myself. A moment later, my phone buzzed again with a text from Laurie - a link to an upcoming exhibit at the Gardner Museum. And then a far more logical Andy-related conclusion popped into my head: maybe Laurie had mentioned that I seemed lonely (not having plans on a Friday night, learning that I worked late most nights if Andy had mentioned it to her), or had voiced some other concern, and this way his way of assuaging that. It seemed like something he’d do to make her happy. I sent Laurie a quick ‘thanks’ before I opened Andy’s the text, finally answering: (11:18 AM) Slammed with meetings today, brought my own. Thanks, though

(11:19 AM) AB: Maybe next time. (11:19 AM) AB: Don’t work too hard. I scoffed, setting my phone down with a mumble of, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

#andy barber x reader #andy barber #andy barber imagine #andy barber x you #I Could Be Your Sometimes

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psychosistr · 4 years ago

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Meet Me Halfway- Chapter 6

Summary: Liquidator wakes up with questions, answers, panic, and more questions.

Notes: Woohoo! First Liquidator POV chapter xD

-First Chapter-

The first thing Liquidator noticed when his consciousness returned to him was how much lighter he felt. Before, everything about his body had been heavy and immovable. Now, though, he felt light and free- the feelings he’d become accustomed to since his mutation into the living mass of liquid.

The second thing he noticed was the slightly heavier feeling of something contaminating his liquid in one area. Forming his eyes answered the question as to what that something was. He spotted some sludge on the far end of whatever vessel his body was currently being contained in. Hating the feeling of the crystal-clear body he took such pride in being contaminated by impurities, he focused and pulled the rest of his water out of and away from the sludge, leaving it pooled on its own on the far end of his container.

And the third thing he noticed was the feeling of something more solid resting idly in his water. Moving so that his recently formed eyes could look at the side of his container, he spotted a gloved hand at the end of a white-clothed sleeve dipping over the side of the vessel so that the arm lay on the rim and the covered fingertips skimmed his water.

Liquidator’s first thoughts on the situation were that he’d been given to some laboratory for testing after his defeat at the hands of “the terror that flaps in the night”. Well, he wasn’t some guinea pig for a bunch of no-necked shut-in’s to drool over as some sort of new scientific marvel for them to stick in a centrifuge!

With a bubbly growl to his voice, Liquidator gathered all of his water together and formed it into his familiar shape with a bit more bulk around the upper body to appear more intimidating and rose up out of his container. “Today’s special- a two-for-one beat down courtesy of the one and only LIQUIDATOR! Act now, supplies are limited!” To his surprise (and mild disappointment) his dramatic entrance and one-liner fell flat as the only other person in the small room was a lone man on the floor by his container. Further surprising and frustrating was the fact that his entrance garnered no reaction whatsoever from the seated scientist. With a frustrated scowl, he picked the scientist up by the front of his lab coat and glared into his goggle-covered eyes. “The surgeon general says ‘ignoring supervillains is detrimental to your health’, so you’d better-!”

His threat was interrupted by a groggy, tired sound finally leaving the previously silent masked man’s throat. “Ngh…” He lifted his head slightly, apparently just now realizing who was in front of him. “Buddy..?”

“!!” The familiar voice shocked Liquidator right out of his previous aggression, making him stare at the small scientist whose covered features were becoming increasingly familiar to him the longer he looked. “Reggie?” He reached up with one hand and removed the mask and goggles, revealing the duck’s familiar face to him. “Reggie, what’s going on?”

“Nmh..sta…a..tue..” Was the only coherent thing to leave the duck’s beak before his head flopped back down and his eyes shut.

“Reggie? Reggie!” Liquidator tried to gently shake the other man awake, but he didn’t stir in the slightest. With a slightly aggravated huff, he set the duck back down on the tiled floor.

Finally taking in his surroundings, Liquidator saw that he wasn’t actually in some laboratory- instead, he was in a small, sparsely decorated bathroom. What he had previously assumed to be some sort of container was actually just an old off-white bathtub. It was that odd combination of too nice to be a cheap motel bathroom but not nice enough to be some sort of corporate-owned building that lead him to the conclusion that he was in a cheap apartment complex- likely Bushroot’s home.

What stood out the most in the cramped room, however, were the buckets of what looked like improperly-mixed wet cement that had been set out around the other side of the tub and on top of the toilet. He noticed a glob of the same substance sitting in the tub that he’d just emerged from and figured that was probably what he felt mixed in with his body earlier.

While looking at the buckets, however, he noticed one of them that was closest to the tub’s opposite corner. Unlike the other buckets with their thick layers of sludge and sediment, this one contained a significantly clearer liquid. Out of curiosity, Liquidator placed the tip of his finger in the bucket and concentrated on reading its contents.

It was an interesting mixture: Hydrogen, oxygen, chlorine-

WAIT!

Those compounds together made-

“Reggie!” Liquidator turned back to the shorter man with an urgent tone to his voice and tried to shake him awake again, this time more roughly than he had before. “How long have you been inhaling this stuff?!”

Despite his shouting and shaking, the duck remained unconscious. Quietly cursing under his breath, Liquidator picked Bushroot up and carried him out of the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom. After setting Bushroot down on the bed, Liquidator got the only window in the room open with the hopes that it would draw in enough fresh air for his still flesh-and-blood friend.

“Sorry, but you’ll thank me for this later..” He said to the unconscious duck before he began to remove his clothes. The opened lab coat, shoes, and socks came off easy enough, but the buttons on the pants and shirt proved more of a challenge to the watery canine and his fluid fingers- the pieces of plastic slipping through and occasionally into his digits. “To heck with it- I’ll steal you some nicer clothes later..” Letting out another frustrated growl, Liquidator firmly grasped the sides of the shirt and tore it open, destroying many of the buttons in the process.

After repeating the process with the button on Bushroot’s pants, he gathered up the ruined clothing and the other articles he’d already taken off (he left the duck his modesty by keeping his underpants on- those would probably be the least contaminated) and hurried back into the bathroom.

Clearing the bathtub of the residual concrete, Liquidator summoned a strong flow of water from the bathtub’s faucet and left the clothes to soak in the clean water for the time being. While the clothes were being dealt with, he grabbed the troublesome bucket from earlier and carried it into the kitchen.

“Let’s hope you keep your cupboards stocked, Reggie..” Liquidator mumbled to himself while rummaging through the various cabinets and cupboards. After a moment, he found exactly what he was looking for. “Aha! Just what the doctor ordered! Well, what he WOULD order if he were awake.” He said while pulling out a box of baking soda.

The clever canine diligently dissolved the baking soda into the bucket of chemicals, going slowly as to not trigger any unfavorable reactions. Once the threatening concoction was properly neutralized, he let out a relieved sigh and walked back into the bedroom to check on the resting scientist.

Placing a hand on the duck’s forehead, Liquidator frowned at the unusually high amount of heat that he could feel seeping into his watery palm. “Oh Reggie, what have you done..?”

_______________________________________________________________

Bushroot didn’t wake up for several hours.

Liquidator did what he could to ensure the duck’s full recovery: Carefully washed the other man’s face repeatedly, taking great care to make sure the beak was fully cleansed of any lingering residue. Placed a cold hand on his forehead for twenty minutes once every hour to help keep his temperature down. And, with the aid of the adjoining bathroom’s faucet and some cleaned out buckets, used hot water combined with his own mastery of liquids to humidify the air and make sure the water molecules wouldn’t be blown away by the fresh air coming in through the window.

In between the time he spent taking care of the other man, Liquidator tried to keep himself busy with little things such as finishing the cleanup of Bushroot’s contaminated clothes and looking around the apartment. Unfortunately, cleaning up proved more entertaining than the option of looking around as the duck really didn’t have much available in the way of entertainment other than the television set in the living room. He managed to freeze one of his fingers long enough to turn the television on, but it was the time of day where nothing good was playing, anyway.

Returning to the bathroom to see if there was anything else he could do, Liquidator noticed something he’d missed before- a notebook and a set of tools sitting on the back of the toilet. Out of curiosity and boredom, Liquidator froze one of his fingers again and used it to flick through the pages of the notebook.

It seemed to be a scientific journal used for making observation notes on various types of plants. As he got closer to the more recent pages, though, the notes changed from plant-based biological observations to chemical formulas and theories. There was a crude drawing of Liquidator himself featured on one of the pages with the basic formula for cement written off to the side. After that were pages upon pages of notes and formulas, many of which was scribbled over and/or re-written with arrows drawn from one side of the page to the other to suggest a possible link between solutions. Judging by the amount of writing, Bushroot must have spent several hours trying to figure out a way to separate Liquidator from his stone prison.

As Liquidator glanced at the numerous buckets of concrete sludge that still filled the small bathroom, he realized that it must have taken several more hours actually getting him out the cement…

Closing the book once again, Liquidator’s eyes drifted over to the tools that had been lying next to it- a hammer and a chisel.

“Glad I wasn’t awake to feel THAT..” He commented while picking up the chisel and looking at the normally flat-edged implement that had been significantly dulled by going above and beyond to fulfill its purpose.

With a shake of his head, Liquidator set the tool back down and wandered back into the bedroom to check on Bushroot for what felt like the fiftieth time. In the process of doing so, he noticed something he’d missed before while undressing the duck and treating him- his gloves were still on. Honestly, they’d been very low on his priority-driven radar that he hadn’t even noticed they were there.

“Might as well get rid of those, too..” He flowed over to the bed and began carefully peeling the first rubber-covering off of the dozing doctor’s digits. Getting them off, however, revealed something else he’d failed to notice before: Blood. “!!” Liquidator’s eyes widened in momentary panic as he tossed the glove aside and moved Bushroot’s hand to get a better view of it. “Did you get that stuff in your gloves?!!”

After rinsing the other man’s hand off, the supervillain was relieved to see that the wounds weren’t from chemical burns. No, they were simply blisters, most likely from the hours he spent breaking the stone apart with the hammer and chisel, that had burst and bled into the glove. Removing its twin revealed similar blisters on Bushroot’s other hand that made Liquidator frown.

‘Why would you go this far?’ Liquidator wondered not for the first time that day, silently taking both of Bushroot’s hands in his own and submerging the blisters in his cool water to ease their pain.

People were inherently greedy and selfish- that was the law of the world that he, as Bud Flood, had long come to accept in life. No one did anything without expecting something in return.

Parents raised their children and gave them what they needed to survive. The “good” ones went even further and have their children things they didn’t need but merely wanted to make them happy. They encouraged and/or pushed their children to do well in school and find good jobs as adults so they would be financially stable. This was all just training and compensation, though, so that the parents could cash in on their children’s success and finances and have someone to either take care of them or pay to have someone else take care of them when they were too feeble to do so themselves anymore.

At work, people would be polite and genial to their coworkers and superiors, offering to do tasks that went above their assigned responsibilities for the sake of appearing helpful. They were all just trying to make themselves look better, though- they all secretly wanted to get on the good side of the higher-ups so they could get benefits like being considered first for promotions or raises. As soon as someone got in their way- someone better at pretending to be nice or who seemed more intelligent or talented- you’d see their true colors come out as they worked to sabotage the competition without getting caught. Who cares if it ruins someone’s life? All that matters is climbing the corporate ladder to the top.

Even romance, the ultimate, life-defining source of happiness according to so many people, came with a price. Falling in love was supposed to be a grand thing, a way to find someone else to spend your life with- someone to share your happiness with and lean on in times of hardship- that so called “missing piece” of yourself. In the end, though, all anyone really gets is extra emotional baggage from dealing with your own problems as well as someone else’s in exchange for the rights to say “Look, I’m in a relationship with that person- I’m normal!” and feel included for once. Eventually the high of happiness and romance fades and, when you realize you’ve condemned yourself to being with someone whom you have almost nothing in common with, you either kill your soul with the constant fights caused by bitterness and despair for the sake of “making it work” or you play heartbreak-russian-roulette to see who’ll pull the trigger first and end the pain for all parties involved.

Everybody always wanted something from him, that’s what Bud Flood had come to expect. It was why he’d worked so hard maintaining his double-life: To the public, he was a good, honest man who cared about the safety of his customers and put their needs first, making him seem kind and approachable. Behind closed doors, he was a ruthless, tyrannical businessman who would doom whomever he needed to just to get ahead in life.

After all, anyone else would do the same if they could, right? They would act kind and friendly to make him lower his guard, then wait for the chance to take something from him- his money, his success, his heart- you name it. In the end, it would happen one way or another..

………

So why was he wasting so much time with this meek, anxiety-prone, attention-starved, blabber-mouth of a scientist who wasn’t even THAT attractive?

If he had to pick a reason, it was probably because the duck was so transparent and straight-forward that he was easy for Liquidator to understand and predict. Bushroot was lonely, eager for attention and companionship, and honest to a fault (the guy probably couldn’t lie to save his own life). In a situation that came down to “take advantage or be taken advantage of”, Bushroot was much more likely to be the one taken advantage of since he would bend over backwards for the supervillain’s approval. He was simple and plain and far from complex.

At least, that’s how it had started out…

While the scientist was still very obviously desperate for attention and approval, Liquidator had to admit to himself that there were things about him that were less predictable than he originally thought. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought the bird would go as far as he did to free him from his concrete prison- to expose himself to dangerous chemicals and spend who knows how long breaking his solidified body apart just to set him free. Sure, they’d built some form of casual friendship since they’d met in the greenhouse, but they’d only known each other for a couple weeks! Liquidator doubted anyone else in his former life, people he’d known for years, would have gone so far to help him..

Would Bushroot want anything in return for his help? A slice of the profit from Liquidator’s next scheme? Reimbursement for his time and services? He could ask for just about anything-

“L…Liqui…?” A tired voice asked him from the bed.

Looking down at the small scientist’s face, Liquidator saw a pair of barely open blue eyes looking in his direction. Bushroot still looked exhausted and a bit out of it, barely keeping his focus on the water-dog’s general direction for more than a second before he had to jerk his drifting eyes back in place. He’d likely need some more rest before he could be trusted on his own again.

“The one and only- sometimes imitated, but never bested!” Liquidator joked with a grin, moving one hand up to touch Bushroot’s head and check his temperature. “So, how is Saint Canard’s number one criminal-aiding scientist feeling?”

“Dizzy…tired..” He mumbled before giving Liquidator a tired smile. “And..happy…you’re here..”

“……” Liquidator was tempted to ask his questions now, but he bit his tongue and used the hand still on Bushroot’s forehead to gently touch the side of his face. “Thanks to you..” His earlier grin softened slightly as he spoke. “Now, get some more rest- doctor’s orders.”

“Not a doctor..” The still sleepy duck replied before his eyes drifted closed of their own accord and he fell back asleep.

Liquidator’s smile fell slightly once the duck’s eyes were shut once more, leaving him alone with his thoughts again. Part of him still wanted to know what Bushroot expected to get for helping him. Part of him had a feeling he already knew the answer. And a third, smaller part of him told him what he WANTED the answer to be…

He took the hand he was still holding and brought it to his lips, giving it a light kiss. “Sleep easy, Reggie- you’ve earned it..”

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: For reference, the compound that Bushroot was working with was a type of hydrochloric acid: Not only is it dangerous to get it on your skin, it's also dangerous to inhale for lengthy periods of time, hence Liquidator's panic when he realized what it was.

To treat it properly, you should ALWAYS go to a hospital. Since Liquidator's a wanted felon, however, he did everything else you're supposed to do to help people who've inhaled the fumes for too long: Remove them from the area, get them plenty of fresh air, remove any clothing that may have been exposed to the fumes as well so they don't continue to inhale them, and, ideally, repeatedly wash their face and body off to make sure there's no lingering residue for them to inhale later before having them breathe in humidified air to flush everything out of their lungs.

Now, having said this, I am NOT a doctor or a chemist, so please just contact 911 if you're ever exposed to these chemicals!

#darkwing duck #dwd #bushroot #liquidator #liquiroot #meet me halfway

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storiesforallfandoms · 5 years ago

Text

my hero ~ mysterio;marvel

word count: 1998

request?: no

description: an innocent class field trip turns into something a bit more exciting when a man made of water attacks and a new hero is introduced

pairing: quentin beck x female!reader

warnings: age difference between beck and reader (reader is 18 though), not a warning but we’re gonna pretend quentin didn’t turn out to be a bad guy for the sake of this imagine

masterlist

I’ve always wanted to visit Italy. It’s definitely been on the top of my bucketlist of places to go. However, going on a school field trip was definitely not how I wanted to experience Venice, Italy.

Sure, we were allowed to go wandering in the day as long as we didn’t go too far from the hotel, but we had to meet up again to go on mandatory group outings, like the museum outing we had planned at three. If it were up to me, I’d explore Venice all on my own and come back to the hotel night time when I was ready.

Also, I really didn’t like anyone in my class. They were all sort of annoying, with the select few exceptions. One of those exceptions was not Flash Thompson, who of course was somehow everywhere.

I decided to escape the class by getting a canal ride. Sure, they were supposed to be for couples, but I had always dreamed of taking one, and also it would be a good excuse should I conveniently “forget” about the museum.

I was laid back in the boat, watching the town pass me by, when I felt the boat violently rock suddenly. I looked up at the guy rowing my boat. “What was that?”

He shrugged and looked at the water. I sat up to see that there were streaks jetting through the water, as if something was swimming a little too close to the surface. There were many of them, coming from all directions in the water, and they were all headed towards the same spot just ahead of our boat. The water calmed just as suddenly as everything happened. With that assurance, I settled back into my boat.

And then an explosion came from the water, hitting my boat directly and sending myself and the guy rowing into the water.

The shock of the cold water hit me first and for a minute I felt like I couldn’t swim. I managed to resurface in time to see that what had caused the explosion was a giant water monster, which was now reeking havoc on Venice. The monster sent another wave towards me, causing me to go under the water again.

Due to the monster, the water was so uneasy that every time I resurfaced I was shoved under the water again. I was being pushed around every way and eventually I couldn’t even reach the surface. I was sure I was going to drown then and there, and no one would know cause I didn’t tell anyone that I was going out on the boat.

Suddenly, I felt two arms around me and I felt myself hitting the surface. I wiped the water from my eyes and looked down to see that I was flying so far above the ground that everyone was starting to look like little ants running away from the water monster. I screamed and tightened my arms around my savior.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he told me.

He flew me away from the monster. I nearly cried when we touched solid ground, far away from any water.

“Are you alright?”

I finally got a good look at my savior: he was dressed in gold with a red cape flowing behind him with a dome that hid his face over his head. I had never seen him before, although it felt like new superheroes were coming out of the woodworks every week at this point.

“I’m okay, thank you,” I told him. “Go defeat that water monster, my friends are back there.”

I heard him chuckle before he took off again. I watched him go for a moment, wondering who that man was, before making my way back to the hotel to hide.

~~~~~~

All anyone could talk about was the water monster attack. Everyone was watching the news and reading articles to try and figure out where the monster came from and who the guy that fought it was.

No one noticed me coming back to the hotel in soaking wet clothes after being nearly half an hour walk away. Which I was partly happy about, I didn’t really want to talk about the whole ordeal anyways.

I went up to my room and got a hot shower and changed into my pajama shorts and a tank top. The sun was just barley setting, but I was ready to go to bed and leave Venice in the morning. And all this time, I thought the school trip would ruin Venice for me.

I was brushing my teeth at the sink which, weirdly enough, was by the windows, when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I nearly spit my toothpaste on the floor when I realized it was my savior from earlier.

I opened the window. “What...how did you find me?”

“Is it totally weird if I say I looked in all the windows till I found your room?” He laughed at my bewildered expression. “I’m joking. I saw you and your friends come to the hotel when I was fighting the Elemental.”

“That doesn’t explain how you found my room.”

“You’re the only one who’s not downstairs looking at the news.”

“Fair point. Here, come in.”

I closed the room door so no one would see him come in. When I turned back around, he was taking his helmet off. Underneath the helmet was a handsome man with a slight beard and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Suddenly, I felt self conscious about standing there in front of him in shorts and a tank top.

“So, are you visiting everyone you saved today?” I asked. “Cause if you are, you have a long night ahead of you.”

“You were the only one in real danger,” he told me. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I pulled on a hoodie to try and cover myself even a little. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him looking at me, quite the opposite really. I didn’t mind seeing his blue eyes looking over my partly exposed body. I was just suddenly feeling as though my body wasn’t nice enough to be looked at.

“I’m a bit shaken up,” I admitted. “That’s partly why I’m not downstairs looking at the news, I’d rather not have to live through the experience again and again, especially not since my classmates don’t know the danger that I was in. What was that thing, anyways? And how did you...come out of nowhere to save me and fight it?”

“I can tell you all you want to know,” he told me. “But, I’d like to make it up to you for your ride being cut short.”

I scoffed. “I am not getting back in that water, even if it’s with a superhero.”

He smiled. “You won’t have to worry about that.”

The next thing I knew, I was flying high above Venice with my arms around my savior’s neck and one of his arms securely around my waist. I held him tightly, afraid of falling, but still marvelling at the city below me. Venice so beautiful at night, and from this high up.

I buried my head in his neck, suddenly feeling dizzy and queasy from looking down. I felt him vibrate against me as he chuckled. We landed at the top of the Campanile di San Marco, the tallest building in Venice according to Mr. Harrington.

I looked out over the city. “God, it’s so beautiful. I’ve always wanted to come to Venice.”

“Venice was my dream vacation spot back on my Earth,” he said.

I looked over my shoulder. “Your Earth? You’re not...from this Earth?”

He shook his head. “I’m from an alternate universe, Earth 833. Everything is about the same there except we didn’t have your Avengers, we had our own.”

“Yeah well, we don’t even know if we have our Avengers anymore,” I muttered. “Wait, ‘didn’t’? As in...your Earth...?”

“No longer exists, no. Those monsters, the Elementals, they took over my Earth, too. There was a group of us, we tried to fight them but they grew stronger with every battle. Soon enough...I was the only one left; of my group and of my Earth. The Elementals took over, they destroyed my Earth and found out how to travel to alternate dimensions to other Earths. That’s why they're here.”

I sat down on the edge of the roof with my legs dangling over the edge, a daring move but I felt safe there with him. Especially when he sat down next to me.

“There’s more than one,” I said. “That water monster isn’t the only Elemental?”

“No. There’s five in total, one for each element - Earth, wind, fire, water - and a fusion of all four. When they get powerful enough that’s the Elemental they turn into.”

“The one that will destroy the Earth.”

“Exactly.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I figured after the Avengers had defeated the entity that killed half the planet, and brought those people back, that we wouldn’t have to deal with anymore world threatening situations anymore, at least not for a long time. Who was I kidding? We’d always have those situations.

“I’ve already fought one,” he told me. “They’re weak again from travelling, it’ll be months before they gain the strength to be in that final form, and hopefully I’ll be more powerful or have people more powerful by then to help fight them.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to think about potential threats right now. I can’t, I’ll freak out again. It’s bad enough that I lost both my parents and a handful of my friends for five years, I can’t think about all that happening again.”

He reached over and put a hand on my thigh. It was a comforting gesture, but it made all the blood rush to my face. His hand was so warm for someone who had been flying for who knows how long, and it sent a chill up my spine. But I wasn’t about to tell him to stop.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine. I already have two of them fought and subsequently defeated them. There’s only two left, and they won’t even be as powerful fused together as they would be with all four - ”

“What’s your name?”

He was caught off guard by my question. I could see the realization in his face that he hadn’t told me his name yet. “Quentin Beck.”

“Nice to meet you, Quentin Beck. My name’s (Y/N).”

“It’s nice to meet you, too (Y/N).”

I smiled and rested my head against his shoulder. He put his arm around me, pulling me towards him. Our bodies were so close together, and his body felt so inviting.

I lifted my head to look at Quentin. He looked back down at me. God, those blue eyes. I always was a sucker for blue eyes.

Before I could stop myself, I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He cupped my face with a hand, deepening the kiss slightly.

Quentin pulled away first, resting his forehead against mine. “You’re starting to get goosebumps, should I bring you back?”

“I should get back in case anyone has come looking for me,” I sighed. “But...will this be the last time I see you?”

Quentin smiled, pulled me back to his lips. I couldn’t help but giggle against his lips. He pulled away again, kissing my nose and earning another giggle. “Just tell me where your headed next and I promise I’ll come fine you.”

“We’re headed to Paris in the morning.”

“Perfect, meet me on the roof of the hotel you’re staying in and I’ll find you. We can go to the top of the Eiffel Tower next.”

A wide smile broke out across my face. I was so speechless with excitement all I could do was nod.

#quinten beck #quinten beck imagine #quinten beck x reader #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake Gyllenhaal x reader #mysterio #mysterio imagine #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #imagine #one shot

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