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builtbybrokenbells · 1 year ago

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no because jake being a self proclaimed dog guy and then ur cat choosing him as his favorite nap partner, like if jake is there ur cat is there too. jake cant sit on the sofa without the cat also climbing on it and slowly making his way onto his lap, he is like “hi boots- hey- no- uh *sigh*” his dark jeans are now covered in cat hair as fluffy baby becomes a loaf on his thighs. and jake can hear ur giggles and the snap of ur phone camera going off repeatedly and glares amusedly like “not funny, babe”

no because you’re so right. this is so painfully correct that it hurts.

•

“You can sit on the couch, you know. He’s not going to hurt you.” You said, biting back the smirk that was fighting its way on to your lips.

“I know that, y/n.” Jake rolled his eyes, but still stood firmly in his place. “He’s in my spot.” You let out a laugh.

“No, he lives here, Jake. This entire house is his spot.” You said, walking over to the sofa and giving your cat a small scratch behind the ear. He woke with a start, giving you a small ‘mmrph’ as he noticed who had disturbed his peace. “Hi baby.” You cooed. He closed his eyes again, purring at the sound of your voice. “I missed you.” He stood, now, stretching as he let out a yawn. “Hungry?”

You made a move to the kitchen to fill his food dish while Jake watched, still unmoving from his spot. “I told you, he only cares about food.” Jake continued trying to argue his point as to why cats were inferior to dogs. It was your turn to roll your eyes as you cracked a can of food and poured it into his dish.

The cat vs. dog debate had been a long time argument between you and him. You were completely willing to see reason, understand why Jake loved dogs so much, but you couldn’t seem to understand why he was so stand-offish with your cat. You had been together for months, and the relationship was near perfect aside from his mistrust in your completely docile and friendly pet. A pet which had taken a specific liking to him, interestingly enough. “Jake, he likes food. So do dogs. So do you. Every living thing in the world loves food. He loves me for plenty of other reasons, too. And, if I have to remind you, he likes you an awful lot for someone who’s never even given him a treat, yet.” You called back, hoping to put tonight’s conversation to an early end. “Now sit on the couch and be quiet.” You washed your hands after tossing the can in the garbage, quickly joining him back in the living room. Thankfully he had listened and taken a seat. He gave you a smile when you returned, holding his hand out for you and beckoning you to join in.

“Movie?” He asked, grabbing a blanket from the arm of the couching and throwing it over you. You turned on the TV and opened the Netflix app, giving him free rein of the remote to choose whatever he pleased. Once a movie was playing, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you both settled in for the evening.

About halfway through, you paused the show so you could both use the washroom and grab some snacks. While Jake disappeared down the hallway, you busied yourself in the kitchen. He returned to the living room before you did, and the sight you came back to was one almost too comedic. Boots, your cat, was sitting on the floor and staring up at your boyfriend. Jake was watching him, nervous about his next move. Boots was softly flicking his tail, clearly debating if he wanted to waste the energy jumping up on the couch. Before you could even step towards the two, the cat had decided to pounce up on the sofa, landing on the cushion directly next to Jake. The staring contest continued, the cat clearly having no issue with Jake at all, but Jake looked like he was preparing for disaster. Jake was so immersed in the small animal he failed to even realize you were in the room.

“Hey, buddy.” He said, tone dripping with caution. You had to give it to him; even if he disliked cats, he was nice enough to try for you. He knew how much you loved the damn thing, and knowing the cat made you happy was worth more than his comfort. At the sound of his voice, Boots stepped forward, landing one paw on Jake’s thigh. When he didn’t move, the cat climbed up on him. “Oh, hey, no… come on.” Jake protested. “Boots…. ugh.” He let out a defeated sigh, knowing he had lost. The cat was gently kneading his legs, purring up a storm. You couldn’t help but giggle, amused that despite his distaste for cats, he seemed to end up in the same situation every time he came over. “No, buddy, please don’t-“ his plea was silenced when the cat curled up on him, tucking his limbs under him and closing his eyes in delight. “You’re gonna get hair all over me… come on, please get up.” He urged him to move, but the cat was in no hurry to leave.

You couldn’t pass up the opportunity, pulling your phone from your pocket and juggling the bowl of popcorn to your other hand. You tried to keep your laughs silent, but the shutter of your phone camera caught his attention, making your attempt at silence completely pointless. “It’s not funny, babe.” He complained, sending a glare in your direction. “It’s like he knows! He sits on me every time I come over. There’s cat hair all over my apartment, and the little shit doesn’t even live there!” You couldn’t contain your laughter, nearly doubling over from shortness of breath. You couldn’t even begin to explain the intensity of the humour from the situation.

“You poor thing,” You said through wheezes. “He’s not going to hurt you, Jake. Actually, I think he loves you.” You managed to calm yourself down, moving towards the couch to join them.

“I’m not scared of him!” He defended.

“It seems like it, sometimes.” You snickered. “Pet him, Jacob. If you give him what he wants, he might show some mercy.”

“You’re an ass.” He said, but gave in to the temptation. He gave a him few awkward pets, moving with the utmost caution.

“If you love me, you have to love him.” You reminded.

“I love you, and I’ll tolerate him.” He corrected.

“You’ll change your mind eventually.” You smiled, looking over at him. At the sight of your face, he couldn’t help but match your expression. “You want a kiss for being so brave?”

“Shut up and watch the movie.” But he leaned in for a kiss anyway.

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blizzard202 · 5 months ago

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Standing Still - Reuploaded to Tumblr: Chapters 1-4

Chapters 5-8

Chapter One - Archie

It feels like only moments ago when Archie and Ashton Larkson’s parents passed. The two children never received the details on how it happened. The police never care enough about anything when it comes to poor people. And just like that the 15 and 13 year old boys were kicked to the streets. All they can do to get by now is beg and steal.

4 years later, it’s late, Archie knows that as he’s dragged by his brother through the streets. All he can register is that his brother has stolen a loaf of bread and now they’re being chased by around eight scary-looking men.

“Get back here, you rat-bastards!” One of them shouts. Archie’s feet drag against the cobblestone and ache terribly. Shops and people fly by in a blur. He thinks he can feel tears sting at his eyes, but he fights them back. Don’t be a sissy. Ashton’s voice echoes in his mind.

They turn a few corners. He can hear his brother swear under his breath. The grip on his wrist disappears before… he hits the ground. Hard. There’s a sharp, ringing pain in his head. He blinks up at the scary men. They grab his arms, though a few others continue to chase Ashton. Before Archie can do anything, his vision fades to black.

When Archie wakes, he’s in some sort of cell. Alone. Everything aches. He can feel dried, crusty blood on the back of his neck, on his shoulders and clothes and… where is he? He shivers. It’s cold. His stomach grumbles madly. How long has it been since he’s eaten? How long was he knocked out for? His head hurts. Everything does.

He looks around once more. There doesn’t seem to be a way out. There’s no toilet. He thinks he can see something move in the shadows. Archie inches towards whatever it is. It is, in fact, a rat. He lets out a yelp and it immediately scurries back off into the shadows.

All Archie can do is tuck himself into the corner of this cold, dark room, curl up on his side like a dog and close his eyes. He fights back tears. What did I do wrong? Why did all of this have to happen? First ma and pa are gone and now… Archie doesn’t fall asleep for a long, long time. When he does, it’s a light, dreamless sleep, often interrupted by the scurrying of rats or the footsteps of more scary men like the ones that took him here. But he sleeps. Barely.

Chapter Two - Raymond

Raymond is sitting in the break room of his job, eating his dinner. He works as a cleaner at a tailor’s shop down the street from Jacobi’s Deli, where he bought a ham sandwich with the 3 cents he made on his job that day. Almost 9:00. He thinks, glancing at the clock on the wall every couple of seconds. 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2… He springs up from his seat, locks up the doors of the shop, and makes his way down the road, dodging carriages and newsboys walking back to their lodging houses. He accidentally nicks a kid’s hat off when shooting his wrapper into the garbage can.

“Ay’ whaddya think you’re doin’?” The kid seems much too old to be a newsie, probably in his 20s at that point. “Look, I’m sorry, you don’t gotta make a big deal about it.” Raymond says. The new face is slightly shorter than him, red hair, he looks tougher than Raymond though. “It is MY first day on my job wit’ The Bronx newsies, and I don’t need you ruinin’ it, dipwad!” The guy takes a swing, Raymond dodges and trips him, making him fall flat on his back. He starts running. Wasn’t planning on dyin’ today.

Raymond looks back to see that he isn’t being chased, but he doesn’t look where he’s going, and bumps into an old woman, knocking her over. Luckily, he catches her and puts her back on her feet. “Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! Are you alright ma’am?” “Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking. I know it was an accident, it’s ok, things happen.” The two chat for a bit, then go their separate ways. That could’ve been way worse.

Suddenly, a man dressed in clothes not seeming to fit the streets of Manhattan. “Excuse me child, do you not see what you just did?” The mysterious man asked. “Yes? I was runnin’ too fast and I accidentally bumped into a lady. Luckily I picked her up before she could hit the ground! She’s alright, I made sure-” “That isn’t what I saw.” The man tells Raymond. “Whaddya mean?” Raymond asks. “What I think just happened was an attempted murder. Don’t you know how old that woman is? If she hit the ground, she would have perished the second she came face-to-face with that concrete. Luckily, you noticed that people were around, and played it off as some kind of accident.” “What? You’re bein’ ridiculous! Why would I try to kill some poor old lady?” Raymond is flabbergasted, confused about what is entering his ears. “I don’t know, why would you? OFFICERS! TAKE HIM AWAY!��

“What? What are you doin’!? I- Get offa me! Stop! I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Exactly kid. You didn’t do nothing, a double negative.”

“What did I do to you to deserve this? Why are you being so mean?!”

“Because I can. Wow! Two new inmates in one hour! We’re going to have a drink tonight boys!”

Great. Now I’m gonna rot in a cell because some ass thinks that capturing kids to put in your jail is just a fun game. He sits in a holding cell, feeling hopeless, until he looks to his side, and spots something in the corner. Another boy, about his age, maybe a year younger, curled up. He’s asleep. His curly, copper hair is tainted with a bit of blood, and there’s a small sort of gash in his head that’s barely visible through the thick curls.

Chapter Three - Archie

When Archie wakes again, a pair of dark eyes are peering back at him. He uncurls himself and presses against the cold wall of the strange, small room. The dull ache in his head is still there. His eyes take a moment to focus on the other boy.

“Wha… who?” Archie’s speech is barely comprehensible as he slowly regains his senses. The other boy greets him.

“Hello? Are you ok?” The brown-haired boy’s concerned voice rings through the small room. It takes a few moments for Archie to even register what he said.

“I’m.. fine. Who- Who are you?” Archie tilts his head slightly and squints. It occurs to him that maybe he should introduce himself.

Be polite, like Ma always said. “I’m Archie.” He offers a small, weak smile in an attempt to come off as friendly despite his situation.

The other boy blinks. “My name’s Raymond. You in here for somethin’ stupid too?”

Archie winces. Something stupid? Sort of. He’d have to explain everything to this stranger, and from experience Archie knows it’s hard for him to stop talking once he starts. It’d be embarrassing to just spill his guts right here.

Don’t overthink. “Yeah, I guess so… do ya know where ‘here’ is?” Archie’s voice waivers a bit more than he’d prefer. He doesn’t want to seem weak. Raymond glances around.

“Seems like a prison? Dunno. I didn’t do anythin’ besides bump inta an old lady.” Raymond’s eyes land on the blood.

“Are you ok? You’re definitely hurt… C’mere.” Archie hesitates before inching closer. Raymond pulls him the rest of the way and uses a hand to tilt Archie’s head downwards and to the side. It’s an awkward but not uncomfortable angle.

Raymond lets out a concerned “hm,” Archie can feel gentle fingers against his hair, seemingly clearing the way so his wound is more visible. Raymond’s fingers graze the raw, injured skin, which prompts Archie to suck in a sharp breath. He hasn’t been treated so gently since… well, since before his parents died. He’d received no such treatment from his brother.

Archie finds himself so lost in his thoughts that when Raymond pulls away, he takes a moment to open his eyes. He hadn’t even realized they were closed in the first place.

“How bad does it hurt?” Raymond asks. It takes a short moment for Archie to reply.

“Not… horribly? I’m bad with words. It’s like background noise but pain. Background pain.” Raymond laughs wryly, though he still looks concerned.

“What if you have a concussion or somethin’?” Ashton would have replied with a snarky, sarcastic reply. Archie doesn’t want to be like his brother, he’s realized that now.

“I’m not sure… I’ll be fine, though. Uhm.. are you hurt at all?” Archie tilts his head. His eyes gleam with concern.

Raymond shakes his head. “I’m ok.” Archie is thankful Raymond hasn’t asked anything more about how he got here. As much as Archie would like the relief of crying into someone’s arms, he doesn’t want to scare this boy off. An awkward yet peaceful silence envelops the two. Archie ponders what Raymond could be thinking, and who Raymond is outside of this cold, dark cell.

Chapter Four - Raymond

After a while, Archie starts explaining his story while Raymond creates a makeshift bandage by ripping off a piece of Archie’s shirt. Raymond has tried, and failed, to convince Archie to let him use his own shirt.

“Thanks.” He says quietly. Raymond paces his way around, kicking a pebble around the cell, until he gets bored and slumps down against the wall next to Pup.

The two are sitting next to each other against the wall of the cell. A black, furry rat darts towards them but skitters the other way when it gets too close. Archie yelps loudly. Raymond snickers faintly, it’s a bit funny how timid Archie is, even if Raymond is concerned for the other boy. Raymond looks over to his left.

“They’re just rats...” He says gently. There is a hint of amusement in his voice. Archie glances away and folds his arms.

“But theys gonna bite me and I’ll get a disease!” He retorts. Raymond thinks he can see a hint of a smile on his face, though.

“Just don’t bother them. They’re probably more afraid of you than you are of them.” Raymond places a hand on Archie’s shoulder. Archie smiles and looks back at Raymond, but his eyes still flicker back to the shadows every once and a while.

After a few minutes, footsteps can be heard down what could be a hallway. The door opens. “Hey kids, you fellas gotta get in the room, boss says so.” A guard that seemed way too tired to work tells the two. He leads the two to a large room with about twenty sets of bunk beds. “There, that’s where you’re gonna sleep.” The man points at a bottom bunk.

“…Which one?” Pup asks.

The guard chuckles. “Are ya serious? Just be glad you aren’t in a three-kid bed!” The officer walks away, still chuckling to himself.

“LIGHTS OUT!” The warden yells an hour later.

Alrighty… Raymond thinks to himself. The two find themselves over to their bed after a while, they get affiliated with a couple other kids in the block: James, a young teen who didn't have a pinky finger, and Clippers, who said he does haircuts for kids who can’t afford them. Raymond feels a little uncomfortable in the rock-solid mattress, but after a while, he eventually falls asleep.

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

Original characters and story were created in collaboration with @no-i-wanna-go-down (Owner of Archie and Ashton) Any other characters (Excluding Raymond) are the product of dual creativity between the two authors, which entails equal ownership of the characters.

This doesn't need to be the end of your reading! There are much more chapters than these, but they are being reuploaded for the sake of promotion. If you would like to read on, please keep reading on AO3. There is a LOT more where that came from! (Spoiler alert: It's really gay)

#newsies #newsies broadway #newsies live #livesies #92sies #newsies fanfic #newsies musical #writing #creative writing #fanfic #newsies oc #oc #collaborative #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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dreggmanluver · 3 years ago

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FNAF x reader headcanons: Baking with the Glamrocks + Sun and Moon

GN reader as usual, these could be platonic or romantic :)

Freddy

The best baker of the bunch! He has an eye for detail and makes sure nothing gets forgotten.

His hands are rather big and clumsy, so he'll let you do the precision decorating. He is very easily impressed with the little frosting designs you're able to do "Wow, superstar, is that a flower? It looks amazing!"

If you get super stressed when baking, Freddy is there to calm you down! He is very patient with you and knows just what to say to help bring you back to reality.

Chica

She has the most experience baking of any of the animatronics, since something she prefers to eat something other than garbage. She's never condescending, though! She will jump with joy whenever you learn a new skill.

She will eat chocolate chips directly from the bag (but who doesn't?)

She considers herself "keeper of the oven". "Oh, don't worry, I've got it! I don't want you to burn yourself, dear."

Monty

Let's be honest, you did not bring Monty into a kitchen expecting him to be of any practical help.

He pipes frosting into his mouth when you're not looking

He is your #1 baking hype man. He will do a funky little celebration dance around the kitchen whenever you pull something out. If that's not enough, he'll pretend to be a "baking show judge" and compliment the flavors. This would be adorable, if Monty has watched any professional chefs other than Gordon Ramsay.

Stirs everything very aggressively. Give this gator a bowl of cream and it will be stiff peaks in a matter of seconds. "I AM an electric mixer!"

Roxy

Confidently has no idea what she is doing. You are constantly reminding her of the difference between a tablespoon and a teaspoon. "Neither of them are on a table! They should be called Counter-spoons and Small Counter-spoons."

You now refer to them as such.

She stresses whenever something small goes wrong, and you have to reassure her that it will all turn out ok in the end.

Oddly enough, she's very good at cracking eggs! After helping you bake a lot, she has learned to crack them one-handed.

Sun

Overall he doesn't know what to do with himself. There's so much to do! All at once!

You eventually put him on dish duty to give him something to do with his hands. Thankfully this works just fine for Sun, since he likes cleaning anyway.

Very big fan of sprinkles; it doesn't matter what you're making. Cake? Sprinkles. Brownies? Sprinkles. Loaf of bread? Sprinkles.

All the drawers are labelled by Sun themself. "This is the drawer for the pointy knives, please please PLEASE be careful with them!"

CREATIVITY!!! Sun is the best at coming up with new flavor combinations. Some are... questionable- but somehow they always end up tasting good!

Moon

They will hang back, afraid to mess anything up. But if you give him a task to do, he will take it very seriously. A perfect sous-chef!

That being said, if they had a tongue they would lick all the spoons. "Bacteria? Heheheh, what would it do to me?" Instead they settle for tapping it against his teeth.

He shares Sun's love of sprinkles but is more low-key about it. He will stand over you and silently shake them onto whatever you're working on. This doesn't go over well when what you're working on isn't even cooked yet.

They will stare at the oven like a weirdo in order to see when your food is the exactly done.

Thanks so much for 20 followers! In other news, my ask box is unofficially open! My next project is a set of rules and stuff for requests, so for now it's "the wild wild west". Suggest stuff, go nuts!

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simpinghour · 2 years ago

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Tobacco Sunburst (18+)

Pairing: Aki x f. reader

A/N: I refuse to think back to the horror of 1997 and the ill-equipped lack of technology therefore this fic WILL be using some current tech. Sorry not sorry. Also how many of us are obsessed with this gorgeous man? Because honestly.

Synopsis: A random encounter is the start of a friendship that turns to something more.

Word count: 5,903

Chapter: 1/?

Content: fluff, mentions of smoking, (legal) alcohol use, first times, f! loss of virginity, oral sex, penetrative sex, and shenanigans in general

Part of you wished you’d worn something nicer than a raggedy sweatsuit to take out the trash, but it wasn’t as though you’d planned on running into one of the most gorgeous men you’d seen in your entire life. Black shoulder-length hair tied in a top knot, double pierced ears and well-defined jawline was enough to make you do a double take. His clothing was a bit plain—white button up shirt and black trousers, likely the uniform of a government worker—yet it was easy to tell that well-defined muscles lie beneath. Too bad his handsome face was turned up in a scowl, and it was almost enough to make you want to turn and flee in the other direction.

“You look like you’re ready to kill someone,” you commented lightly while tossing your trash into the dumpster. You began looking for the man’s trash, assuming he was there for the same purpose, although he was empty-handed and lingering near the garbage station to puff on the remains of a cigarette.

There was slight shock in the man’s pretty blue eyes, and you wondered if he was surprised at being spoken to or if it was your appearance followed by your fluent use of Japanese.

“Do I? I hadn’t realized,” he finally replied in a tone that was quieter than you expected.

“Long day?” you pressed, hoping he wouldn’t think you rude.

“More like long week,” he replied dryly, eyes narrowing as though remembering something that aggravated him all over again.

“I’ll listen if you want to vent. I know how it feels when you just want to vent.”

The man’s first cigarette was nearly gone and you watched him pull out another one, light it with the butt and deposit it into a portable ashtray that he’d pulled from his pocket.

“I’ve been gone for work for two weeks and all I wanted to do was come home and have a proper bath, have a meal that didn’t come from the conbini and actually sit down to eat it. But that fucking guy has no boundaries or respect. Who the hell goes through an entire bag of rice, three containers of jam and a whole loaf of bread at the same time?”

“Whoa, is that your roommate?”

“Yeah, sort of,” he answered grudgingly. “Sorry, I’m unloading all my shit on you and haven’t introduced myself. Hayakawa Aki.”

“Nice to meet you,” you reply after giving your name. “So I can’t help you with the shitty roommate situation but you can use my bath if you want. Also if you’re not opposed to a natto rice bowl and soup then I don’t mind sharing.”

“Thanks but I can’t impose on you like that.”

“If it was an imposition I wouldn’t have offered. Besides, it’s too late to have something delivered.”

Aki let out a sigh and sharply inhaled on the last bit of cigarette. You watched him stamp it out on the ground and put it in his little ashtray.

“You have a point. Though I should add that it’s sort of reckless to allow a complete stranger into your place.”

“Yeah, but you seem okay. Besides, I’d kick your ass if you were to try anything.”

That made him give you a genuine smile and you laughed when you heard him lightly chuckle.

“Glad that amused you,” you told him. “So I’ll see you in a bit? I figure you need to grab your stuff first.”

“Here, put this in your bath,” you told Aki when he came back, handing him a little paper bag. His eyebrow raised slightly and he opened it and brought it up to his nose.

“What is this?”

“It’s a bath bomb with lavender and other essential oils. Lavender is calming and you seem like you could use it. What with the roommates and all.”

“You would be correct. Thanks.”

“Before you go, do you want an egg with your rice?”

“Yes, please.”

When Aki emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later, he looked mildly calmer. You’d already started putting his food together and had the kettle going.

“Tea?”

He inhaled everything and ignored your protests when he took his dishes to the kitchen and began washing everything. Now you were having a second tea and sharing a box of macarons you’d bought the day before while running errands.

“I never had these before,” Aki murmured, daintily biting into a pink rose-flavored macaron. “They’re not overly sweet but they’re good.”

“They’re my weakness. There was a shop that made amazing macarons where I used to live and I was so happy to find a place here who sold them. The quality is just as impeccable too.”

“Where did you live before?”

“America. New York to be exact.”

“And you decided to move here? Do you have family here or something?”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s just me. I came here for work.”

Aki looked as though he wanted to ask more and you continued before he was able to.

“Before you ask how I speak Japanese, yes, I know I’m black but my mom was half. I was born and lived here with her for most of my life and then we moved to America when she got remarried. I came back here for university and then I got a job that was based in America but they had a Japanese branch and since I was fluent in both languages and they needed someone here, I was perfect for the role. Even better since I get to work from home most of the time.”

“I wish I could work from home. Although on second thought, I wouldn’t want the sort of creatures I deal with knowing where I live.”

“Really? What do you do?”

“I’m a Public Safety Devil Hunter.”

“Eh, really?! I’ve heard about them but haven’t actually met anyone who did that. Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Highly.”

“Now I’m going to worry about you whenever you go to work.”

Aki let out a dry laugh. “Trust me, you don’t need to do that.”

“Too late. You won’t be able to stop me.”

Aki stayed at your apartment for another hour or so. You two talked about some of everything, and you told Aki that you were surprised to find him talkative.

“I’m usually not,” he pointed out. “Rather, I guess I can be depending on the company.”

“Likewise.

________________________________________________________________

The next Saturday afternoon, Aki was at your door asking if he could take you to lunch. It wasn’t as though you’d had any plans so you accepted. And you were glad you’d done so, because you and Aki spent the entire day together, ending your evening by going to an izakaya followed by you both stumbling in your doorway a little after one in the morning.

“I can’t believe some woman isn’t banging on my door for stealing her boyfriend all day,” you said jokingly. You’d found some Paracetamol and after you both took a few with a glass of water, you and Aki were strewn about your living room floor.

“A girlfriend? Me? That’s funny,” he offered dryly.

“Yes, you. Have you seen yourself?”

“I don’t think my looks are anything special but that aside, my life isn’t really amenable to relationships.”

“I suppose you’re right, but that’s still sad. You deserve to be happy just like anyone else,” you replied after a while. “I mean any one of us could die in a non-devil related manner at any time. So if you meet someone who makes you happy, why not enjoy the time you do have with them?”

“I guess. But what about you, why no boyfriend?”

“Aki, the only reactions I get from men are disgust or being ignored. But after dealing with some of these shitheads, being ignored isn’t so bad. So technically I’m a citizen here although when they see me, they automatically assume American until I tell them off in Japanese. I can’t even make this up, but on more than one occasion I was asked ‘how much’, meaning they thought I was a sex worker. And one asshole didn’t even offer the courtesy of paying, he just outright asked if we could fuck because he heard black girls ‘feel different’, whatever the fuck that means.”

Aki’s face pulls into a grimace as you talk. “That’s disgusting.”

“Tell me about it. Hey, I need a snack. Want some potato chips?”

“Yeah, okay.”

After the chips you decided you needed something sweet, and you found some chocolate mochi. Then you wanted something salty again as well as more water. Eventually you both became sleepy and you got the sofa pillows and tossed one to Aki.

“If I take a nap here, you won’t cut my hair right?” Aki asks you through a yawn.

“Um, no? Why would I do that? Did someone do that to you?”

“Yeah, but she was also drunk. Although she was prone to doing questionable things whenever she got drunk.”

“Well, I’m mostly sober right now but even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t cut your hair. Doing that to someone where I’m from would land you getting your ass kicked.”

“I hope you aren’t lying. I really don’t want to wake up with short hair.”

“I swear to you, Aki, I’d never do that. Touching someone’s hair without permission is a big no-no in my culture in the first place, but common decency should dictate that someone not do so in the first place. Now go to sleep.”

________________________________________________________________

That was how your weird friendship or whatever it was—you two hadn’t exactly discussed terms—began.

You and Aki either went out or he came to your apartment. You hadn’t been to his yet purely due to the fact that he wanted to keep you away from his two live-in miscreants who would see fit to bother you on whim.

You thought Aki was exaggerating about his roommates and their messy habits, but the first time he texted you a picture of the kitchen after Denji and Power decided they wanted to create a new dessert, you offered condolences.

“Do they know where you disappear to?” you ask one evening. Aki is smoking outside on your balcony, which he flat out refuses to do inside your home. You’re tucked beneath a thick blanket on the sofa while dressed in the fuzzy onesie pajamas with a hood and cat ears that he’d bought you. The onesie had been the result of a joke but when he actually found some and surprised you with them, you’d screamed with joy and immediately put it on.

“Absolutely not,” he replies, blowing a plume of grey smoke into the chilly autumn air. “It’s peaceful being here alone with you and I plan to keep it like that.”

“What are you going to do if they get nosy and try to sneak and follow you one day?” you ask with a grin.

Aki peers at you with one eye. “Those two are about as subtle as a sledgehammer dropping onto concrete. Sneaking is not their forte.”

You’re still laughing when Aki puts out his cigarettes and slides the balcony door shut.

“Ugh, you’re freezing,” you groan when he brings the chill from outside beneath your warm cocoon by flopping down next to you on the sofa and wriggling beneath your blanket.

“Then warm me up,” he replies, pressing his cold cheek against yours.

“No one would believe that you’re part cat,” you tell Aki while sliding your fingers into his soft hair. His slippery strands also feel cool but soon warms up as you drag your fingertips over his scalp.

“No one would believe you. Anyway you wouldn’t tell.”

“You’re right; your secrets are safe with me.”

His words are becoming somewhat slurred as he relaxes further into your shoulder. It isn’t long before he’s fast asleep while half-draped across you. At some point you both shift on the sofa and he’s half-lying atop you, his long legs between yours while he uses your sternum as a pillow. The movie keeps playing but eventually you also fall asleep, and when you open your eyes it’s dark and you feel like you’re being boiled alive in your pajamas.

“Aki, hey, wake up.”

You try to rouse him as gently as possible, knowing that it’ll take him forever to settle down if he jolts awake in panic. Thankfully it works, and he mumbles “What’s wrong?” against your chest.

“Let’s go to my room. This onesie is good for a while but not to sleep in. I’m burning up.”

Up until now, Aki hasn’t stayed the full night. You two would get sleepy in the living room and doze off on the floor or sofa, but he’d always go back to his place during the night. Part of you wonders if inviting him to your room seems too forward, but you’re too exhausted to give a shit about propriety.

Aki seems to not care and he settles down on your futon while you dig around for something else to sleep in. Part of you wonders if you should go to the bathroom to change but you’re so sleepy that you don’t care. Aki’s eyes remained on you the entire time but for some reason you don’t mind. The sweaty onesie gets peeled off and replaced with leggings and a t-shirt. Once your hair is wrapped, you turn off the light and lay down next to Aki. Everything is quiet until he turns to face you in the dark.

“Why did you put a scarf on to go to bed?”

“Hair like mine is fragile and the smallest thing can make my ends break. Also a lot of things can absorb the moisture, like my cotton pillowcase, so I use this scarf to prevent that.”

“Oh, that’s good. Your hair is nice so it makes sense.”

“You have nice hair too. It’s so soft.”

“It’s okay I guess but it gets in my eyes a lot.”

“So why don’t you cut it short?”

“Because the fox devil I have a contract with sometimes wants something other than skin, so I keep it long to give him the topknot.”

“Wow. Does it hurt when he takes your skin?”

“Yeah, a bit. That’s why I have scars on my forearms. He prefers that part for some reason.”

“Well if you ever need a trim, I’m pretty good with a pair of scissors. I had to because it’s hell trying to find someone in Japan who knows how to do black hair.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You scoot closer to Aki and cautiously work your hand next to his beneath the blankets. You test the boundaries by softly stroking the top of his hand, but he surprises you by completely taking yours into his.

His hand easily dwarfs yours and his fingers are longer and thicker than yours. They’re somewhat callused but not scratchy, and his skin is warm. Aki strokes the side of your hand with his thumb, and you’re pleasantly surprised at how nice it feels to hold hands with someone, and doubly so with a guy you like.

You’re sleepy but notice something soft touching your forehead, and it makes tilt your head back. You feel it again only this time it’s at your nose, and then the corner of your mouth. At first the sensation is so light that you wonder if you’re dreaming, but then you notice the distinct taste of cigarettes and the cake you and Aki shared after dinner.

His touch is slow, hesitant as though he’s unsure if he’s going to get pushed away. There’s no way in hell you’d stop him, and you eagerly welcome his kiss by opening your mouth while pulling yourself closer against him.

Aki gently cups your cheek as your lips move against one another’s. You don’t realize that you’ve began moaning when he gently sucks on your bottom lip, and you get worked up quickly when he rolls you on your back and settles himself between your thighs.

You know Aki is strong; he had to be for his job. Yet knowing was one thing and feeling was another. His abs are firm against your stomach and when you wrap your legs around his, his thighs feel equally muscled. The tip of his tongue licks into your mouth and your fingers involuntarily grip the firm sinews of his back. His hips roll against yours and send a strong jolt of arousal throughout your body, and you’re unaware of the way you’re moaning into Aki’s mouth. Eventually he pulls his lips away from yours yet keeps your body trapped against his, and you’re both panting slightly in each other’s face.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbles to your disappointment before flopping over onto his back.

“Done what?”

“Kiss you.”

You’re almost not sure how to respond to that. “Wow. Am I that bad of a kisser?”

“Hell no, it isn’t that. And that’s the problem.”

“Okay, Aki you aren’t making any sense.”

Aki sighs and covers his face with an arm. “You’re a good kisser, you have soft skin, and you smell good. And I know this is rude, but you have a really nice ass. And when you make sounds like that… I have an early start in the morning but now all I want to do is rip off your clothes and taste every bit of you.”

You’re not used to this side of Aki and his words are enough to make you clench.

“Whoops, sorry. Let’s just go to sleep now.”

He grumbles something about having a hard on but tugs you against him anyway, your back to his chest. Aki slings an arm around your waist and you can feel the unmistakable shape of an erection pressed against your ass, but you do your best to ignore it.

“Just for the record, I don’t mind taking you up on that offer when you have time,” you murmur right as you’re on the brink of drifting off. Aki groans in your ear and his arm tightens slightly.

“Damn you. I just got him down and now I’m going to be thinking about that for the next day or so.”

“Good. Use that as motivation to make it back safely.”

________________________________________________________________

Aki is gone the next morning, and the only reminder that you spend the night together is his scent clinging to your sheets. Part of you wants to cry when you wake up alone, but then you remember him kissing you goodbye shortly before sunrise, stating that he had to go to work.

Then you didn’t see him for a month.

You knew that missions could land him on trips that took several days or weeks, but you didn’t realize just how accustomed you’d grown to his presence until he was gone. The first two weeks you barely spoke, and you wondered if you’d scared him off by doing something stupid like confess your feelings in a sleepy daze. Yet when you two finally managed a brief video call, it was obvious that the only thing Aki wanted was a bath, a hot meal and to sleep for three days straight.

“I see you managed to elude your little siblings,” you told him with a grin.

“I swear those two idiots share a single brain cell,” he replied around the cigarette he’d just placed between his lips. “I can’t wait until we wrap up this thing.”

“If you want, let me know when you’re on the way back. I’ll cook whatever you want.”

“You don’t have to do that. Besides, I’d still have to cook for idiot one and idiot two else they’d blow up my damn kitchen.”

“Or I could make you all dinner and you could take it to them but not say where it came from.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Who said you had a choice?”

Aki sighs in defeat and you grin because you know you’ve won.

“Fine. But I’m sending you money for the groceries. Denji has a stomach like a trash compactor and you’d spend half your month’s wages on meat alone.”

“Aki, you don’t have to—”

The phone screen pauses for a moment and a few seconds later you get a notification of a money transfer.

“Aki! That’s enough yen to buy food for three months! You didn’t need to send that much.”

“You can use some of it for more macarons then. Denji and Power can have their own box and I’ll use them as a bribe to not destroy my place when I’m gone.”

The idea that he has to constantly bribe the two with treats is hilarious and you laugh until tears are in your eyes.

“I miss you. Shit, never thought I’d say that to anyone.”

“I miss you too,” you reply smoothly, although on the inside you feel giddy with glee. “Make it back home in one piece or I’ll bring you back to life and kick your ass.”

________________________________________________________________

Four days later, Aki is still in his uniform, sheathed katana strapped to his back when he knocks on your door. You send him off with dinner for Denji and Power, but he refuses to bring their macarons. Instead he takes a picture of the box with his phone.

“This is my insurance policy. They have to behave tonight and tomorrow and then I’ll give it to them.”

“I never thought dessert could be used as a collateral of sorts but hey, if it works it works.”

Aki leaves and returns ten minutes later. He’s just finished washing his hands and is about to settle down at your chabudai when his phone rings.

“What do you want? No, you can’t put plum jam on a beef bowl. What do you mean why not, because it’s beef! It’ll taste disgusting.” You hear the young man arguing loudly on the other end of the phone and Aki sighs in exasperation. “Fine, Denji, do what you want. I don’t give a shit. Now I’d like to eat so leave me alone.” He snaps his phone closed and places it next to him on the floor. “This fool tries to put jam on everything,” he tells you, shaking his head. “When he makes toast, he uses four different kinds as well as honey, butter and cinnamon.”

“That sounds like an expensive and overly sweet breakfast.”

“After the last instance of him eating all the bread and jam, I made him use his wages to buy his own. It worked, sort of. At least it made him conscious about wasting food. The first day he came to my place, he made such a huge mess. It took half an hour to scrub my sticky table and that was with his help.”

“Well worry not, there’s no jam anywhere tonight,” you reply with a laugh while setting down your meal.

Once dinner is finished and everything is cleaned up, you both take turns using the bath. Aki insists you go first and you’re waiting in your room for him. You asked if he wanted to watch a movie first but he declined, stating that he was tired.

Rain is pattering against the window by the time you and Aki climb into your futon. You’re both pressed together, chest to chest, and you lightly massage his lower back while his fingers trace along the length of your spine.

“I missed this,” you murmur when his hand moves to the back of your neck.

“Me too,” he replies quietly, bringing his hand over to cup your chin. Aki gently tilts your face toward his and presses his lips against yours. Your kisses start off slow, but soon he rolls over so you’re beneath him and fastens his lips at the side of your neck. No one’s ever kissed you there and you feel it all over so intensely that it makes you shiver. You don’t think it can get any hotter and then he sucks at that sensitive patch of skin and you practically yelp while shoving your fingers into his hair and pulling him into you.

“So much for being tired,” Aki murmurs while tracing the tip of his tongue over your pulse. “Can I take off your shirt?”

By now you’re writhing beneath Aki and willing to do just about anything he asks. So you tell him yes and he tugs you to sit up and pulls your shirt over your head. It’s placed somewhere at the side of your futon and Aki nudges you to lie down again. He’s staring at you so intently that it almost makes you want to cross your arms over your chest. You’re sure that his breathing has sped up, and then you hear the evidence when his fingers linger along your waistband and the question is clear in his blue eyes.

You nod and lift your hips, and then Aki’s hands are tugging your leggings and underwear down in one go. You wonder what he’s going to do next as a mixture of nervousness and arousal begins swirling around in your belly.

“You really are pretty everywhere,” Aki murmurs, leaving his hands atop both your knees.

“Thank you.”

Aki remains fully dressed as he leans over you again, and his lips meet yours while his right hand moves to cup your breast. As he moves to your neck again, his slightly callused thumb circles around your erect nipple and the combined sensations have you yearning for more.

“That feels so damn good,” you moan, arching up into his hand.

“You feel so damn good. Your skin is like silk.”

To prove his point, Aki begins smoothing his palm across your sternum, between your breasts and down to the curve of your hip. He moves until he has a handful of your plump ass while covering your entire nipple with his mouth, and he flicks the stiff nub with his tongue before giving it a soft suck. He does that for several minutes before using both hands to cup your tits, and soon your nipples are hard as pebbles and covered with spit. Between your legs is clenching on its own, and you want to ask him to touch you there but feel self-conscious about being so forthright.

“You can tell me what you like, you know. I won’t be offended,” he comments while shifting down to suck a wet patch on your hip.

“I like everything you’ve done so far,” you reply, hoping like hell that Aki doesn’t start asking for specifics. Otherwise the evening was about to turn really awkward.

“I figured that, but I still want to know what you like.”

“Well, I don’t really know…”

“What do you think about when you touch yourself?”

“Aki! I can’t talk about that.”

“My face is very close to your bare pussy, and you’re too embarrassed to tell me about how you masturbate?” Aki sounds uncharacteristically amused and despite feeling mortified, you’re also somewhat put at ease. Horny also, because while Aki was sometimes crude when he spoke you’d never heard him say something like that before, and it sent a jolt of arousal right to your core.

“I think about how it would feel to be kissed here,” you finally tell him, sliding a hand down your belly and pausing above your mound.

“Does that mean you’ll let me kiss you here?”

“…yeah, okay,” you replied, hoping he didn’t hear the tinge of desperation hiding behind your words.

“All right. Let me get a towel.”

“What’s the towel for?” you ask, siting up to watch Aki walk out your room and to the cabinet that held your clean linens. When he returns, he kneels between your thighs and gestures for you to lift your hips.

“Because sleeping on a wet futon isn’t comfortable,” he explains, shoving the double stack beneath your butt. You feel sort of silly but go with the flow anyway.

Nervous anticipation has your thighs tense, yet Aki kneads and kisses the soft inner skin until you relax around him. Your pubic mound is caressed with his thumb, and eventually he moves down to your throbbing clit.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet,” he murmurs as his finger dips lower to meet an abundance of slippery fluid that’s built up between your folds. He drags his now soaked finger back up to your clit and you let out a squeal as your hips jerk up to meet his touch.

Part of you wants to die from mortification, but the other part is screaming for Aki to keep going. You’re panting and squirming with need as his two fingers nestle between your lips, not touching your clit yet indirectly stimulating it at the same time. It’s too much yet not enough, and you aren’t shy about your frustration.

“Aki, you’re mean. Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not trying to be mean; I just prefer to take my time right now.”

You can’t argue with that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re so aroused it’s starting to hurt. Still, it doesn’t matter how much you whine or thrash around, Aki is intent on going at his pace and touching where he wants.

You don’t realize that you’ve started holding your breath, anticipating Aki doing what he asked. Then you feel it—Aki sliding to lay on his stomach between your thighs followed by a warm gust of air against your sopping cleft, then the flat side of his hot, slippery tongue gliding over your stiff clit. Almost immediately you suck in air, and your hole squeezes shut so hard that he feels it.

“You’re definitely soft here,” Aki murmurs into your flesh, gently prodding your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

It’s hard to know what to do with your hands or legs, and you hope that your little moans and mewls aren’t turning him off. Although something tells you it’s doing the opposite, because Aki is literally tasting every part of you. You’re in disbelief at how sinfully good it all feels, and you throw all propriety to the wind when Aki pushes your tense thighs up and out and truly descends upon you. His mouth is hot and wet, and it’s engulfing what feels like your entire cleft. It’s interspersed with laps at your clit, with Aki softly sucking it in between his lips while using a fingertip to trace along the outskirts of your quivering hole.

“Is it okay if I put it in?” he asks and you almost scream yes while reaching down to use his soft hair as reins.

You don’t even finger yourself, and the size disparity between your hand and Aki’s was massive. His finger feels too thick for comfort, just as you expected, but you relax when you realize that he’s only slipping it in halfway to massage some spot on your upper walls that makes you hurriedly grab a pillow and scream into it. By now your hips are writhing and you’re shamelessly grabbing Aki’s head and fucking his face. Your walls are squeezing rhythmically around the gently moving finger, and the only thing you can focus on how badly you need to come.

Aki’s hand is completely soaked with your juices, and his lips, cheeks and chin are shiny from you humping his face. Your walls are getting tighter and tighter around his finger and he can tell that you’re close. Your writhing form and thighs that keep squeezing his shoulders are no match for his strength, and your breathing is all over the place. Suddenly everything reaches a peak so high that you briefly wonder if you’re going to pass out, and your quivering body goes uncontrollably rigid from head to toe.

“Oh shit! Aki, I’m gonna—”

An intense buzzing is in your ears and your words are cut off when that orgasm hits you like a freight train. Your vision blackens out and you’re unaware of the pain or the way your teeth are in danger of breaking the skin of your bottom lip. You can’t breathe or think, and the only thing you register is how overwhelmingly good you feel. You remain in a stupor when your body finally goes limp. It’s ages before you come down and for a moment you wonder if you’d died, but soon you realize that Aki is now at your side and has a mouthful of your nipple while his hand is still between your clamped, shaking thighs.

“Good girl. You okay?” he asks after kissing you.

You slowly nod and stare up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. The urge to go to sleep is growing heavier by the minute, but then Aki shifts to lay alongside you and he slips his free arm beneath your head. You close your eyes and nuzzle your face against the side of his neck. His skin is warm and holds remnants of cigarettes and soap. It’s a mixture of forbidden but safe, and you wish you could bottle it up.

“You’re still squeezing my finger,” he tells you, slightly wriggling the digit that’s still buried halfway in you. “Think you can come again?”

You murmur something about not knowing, then Aki does something with his hand that makes your eyes fly open.

Being post-orgasm sensitive means that every sensation is heightened, and that little tap against your swollen walls is enough to make you go rigid with pleasure. Aki enjoys seeing you lose control and he curves his finger into a sharper angle and thrusts it up into you in a way that has you melting in his arms. He pauses to ease in a second fingertip and it burns somewhat for a moment but you forget about it when Aki strokes that tender spot again.

Your entire body is hot and covered in sweat, and you’re back to squirming against Aki. He sets up a pace that quickly has your brain fading out of focus, and the only thing you can do is cling to Aki and cry as he fingerfucks you till the point of being incoherent. You end up holding one thigh back, desperate to give the man all the access he needed to your most intimate parts, and you’re rewarded with his palm pressing into your puffy clit. The room is filled with the loud squelching sound of your pussy being worked over by Aki’s long, thick fingers.

The next orgasm is different than the first; it’s quicker and deeper, and it leaves your face soaked with tears and the towel beneath you drenched with release. You lose count of how many times he makes you topple over the edge, and you’re completely unaware that the last climax causes you to literally pass out in his arms.

You come to slightly when Aki is pulling his finger from the clasp of your trembling body. You vaguely notice his erection pressing against your thigh and you want to ask if you can touch him. The only thing you know is you’re too tired to move even an eyelash, and you don’t realize that you’ve called Aki’s name until you feel him keeping you against his chest while covering you both with the sheets.

“It’s okay. Go to sleep.”

You acknowledge his words by giving his side a light squeeze, and a second later everything goes black.

#aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #aki smut #aki hayakawa smut #aki x black reader #aki hayakawa x black reader #csm smut #chainsaw man smut #csm aki #kishibe csm x reader #chainsaw man #aki x y/n #aki x you

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kcrossvine-art · 2 years ago

Text

Reader beware! Youre in for a scare. Awh its been a bit hasnt it? Between work and getting ill with the plague its been a longer time coming than intended for this dish. Perhaps fitting for our All Hallows Eve? Today from the Redwall Cookbook- is a science experiment im thankful didnt crawl back out the bin- Harvestberry Sunset Pudd.

(the original recipe is at the bottom if you’d like to follow along)-

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Harvestberry Sunset Pudd?” YOU MIGHT ASK

raspeberries

blackberries

honey

white bread

whipped cream

Now, you wouldnt think this would be too bad right? "Those are simple ingredients and sure fruit is always temperamental and honeys a bitch to clean, but nothing too inedible". But, now, hold on a second, where does the bread come into play? Is it also for serving like the cream?

No. No it fuckin isnt. The recipe asks you to line a deep bowl with crustless bread before putting the filling in it, letting it sit for 24 hours, and unmolding the filling from the bread.

(This is not a bread pudding. This is a fruit pudding.)

AND, “what does Harvestberry Sunset Pudd taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

I know why it specifies 'a lot of whipped cream'

Its because its trying to hide.

this is an environment for growing mold or shrooms rather than the baking of a pudding. rancid sponge thing.

. used fresh fruit where fruit called for

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

it is immensely offputting.

Its exactly what you'd think pouring a pan of fruit juice into a bowl of crustless bread and letting it sit for a day would be. The consistency is a mix between waterlogged papertowl and stale nothing. The fruit is the only alchemy here and its not good. The fruit turned from the punchy refreshing tartness of midfall to Bitter Gross Bad. I have no clue what the intent of this process was, let alone the bread bullfuckery, and when i tried to search it up i didn't find any relevant results or possible explanations as to why it made me do this.

I made no assumptions before going in because sometimes baking chemical reactions are surprising.

Unveiling this waste of resources made me gag the first time i saw it and it made me gag trying to spoon it into the garbage as it squelched in resistance. Normally i dont do this, but everytime we cook something we take a picture for photo reference when making the illustration, and id desperately like to show you the photo reference so you can see how oddly fleshy it is. -

I wouldnt be surprised if it started convulsing on the counter. If it had a heartbeat. Its sad how much of the autumn recipes have been flops??? I dont know why :( there was simply nothing in the recipe to make the pudding into a pudding, there was no 'glue' to give it adhesion or form. This one doesnt feel like something went wrong this one feels like the recipe was written wrong

I give this recipe a weak and shambling 1/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.)

👻🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁👻

Ingredients:

1 pint (2 cups) fresh or frozen raspberries

1 pint (2 cups) fresh or frozen blackberries

6 tablespoons honey

One small loaf sliced white or wheat bread, crusts cut off

Whipped cream, for serving

Method:

In a saucepan over medium heat, combine the berries and honey. Bring to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes.

Line a deep round bowl with the bread, leaving no gaps. Spoon the cooked fruit into the bowl and top with the remaining bread, covering the fruit completely. Weigh down the pudding with a plate slightly smaller than the mouth ofthe bowl, and place something heavy (such as a can of beans) on top of the plate.

Refrigerate for 24 hours.

Gently unmold the pudding onto a serving plate and serve with lots of cream.

#cross cooks redwall #food art #brian jacques #digital art

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dogsinspaceandyou · 2 years ago

Note

Cat enter the M-Bark and he disguised himself as a dog. Cat join the Pluto crew.

How do the Pluto crew think of the cat before discovering his true identity as a cat?

Disguised cat on the Pluto crew and their thoughts on him:

Their first impression is that he’s weird for a dog. They don’t recognize him at all, not even the fuzzyest memory of him walking by in the park. And he says odd things, like he’s only learned he’s a dog recently and keeps reminding himself. It reminds them a lot of how Kira used to act too doglike so they decide to just ignore the weird for now -the Pluto crew is already weird enough so he fits in perfectly.

Ed is suspicious of him, even after weeks of the guy being on the team. Ed doesn’t trust anyone, really, but there’s something off about this dog. He can tell he’s hiding something, but he won’t tell anyone else on the crew about this since the other dog isn’t above helping him steal. That makes him okay in Ed’s book... for now at least.

Something about the new guy rubs Garbage the wrong way. He bickers with him a lot at the start. The corgi doesn’t know why the other dog bothers him so much. It takes intervention from Stella for them to eventually be friends but... Garbage still feels odd around him.

Chonies doesn’t think too much about the new dog, but he does take Garbage’s side whenever they fight. He feels mostly indifferent over the new teamnate thing, the last new one they had almost took over the M-Bark so... he’ll just focus on the missions and the friends he can actually trust, thank you very much.

Nomi immediately likes the new guy. He’s weird but she likes weird! He’s always tense like Kira so it makes her feel like Kira’s back in a way. And he’s really good at fighting so she really likes that!

Stella is hesitant about the new guy. He’s always doing weird things like studying the M-Bark’s layout and defense systems. It’s suspicious really, but she can’t afford to spend time on figuring out what he’s up to. She has a team to run and a co-captain to keep in check. Hopefully she’ll be wrong about him.

Loaf avoids the other dog for a long time. He doesn’t like meeting new people. The last new dog was really scary and turned everyone back into regualr dogs so... no thanks to new dogs, he’ll just stay away. Eventually he does spend time with the new guy (in a group setting of course) and... he’s nice, just very, very weird.

Pepper doesn’t trust him. All of the data she’s collected so far has pointed to him being suspicious and possibly dangerous -though her data is insufficient on that matter. No matter how relaxed the rest of the crew, and eventually her, get around him she can’t help but still feel a nagging bit of doubt. She likes him, sure, but can she really be able to trust him?

I love specific requests like this, they give me a lot to work with. I hope you enjoyed this.

#dogs in space #dogs in space netflix #dogs in space headcanons #dogs in space x reader #pluto crew x reader #pluto crew x cat reader #male reader #reader uses he/him #spoilers for season 2 #edit: i think for long posts like this the picture will be at the bottom #I think the format looks better this way

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youre-a-total--poser · 3 years ago

Text

Let Me Go Part 2

Warnings: None that I can think of. If there is let me know

Age: 19

Word Count: 553

Requests: Closed.

Part 1 Part 3

--------------------------⧗-------------------------- The Next Day

It had just turned 6 am. You could have slept for longer but you didn't want the extra sleep to mess up your schedule as you were already nervous about the events that were happening today.

You started your day like normal: a quick jog to clear your mind, a training session with your Mom, shower, get ready for the day then breakfast.

Your routine was the same apart from breakfast you went to make yourself some coffee but there was no milk and of course, someone put the empty milk carton back in the fridge instead of throwing it away. You went to go make some toast but there was no bread and you could have sworn that you bought a new loaf the other day.

You had forgotten what it was like living with so many people living under one roof. As much as you missed your family you didn't miss the sharing.

The afternoon was spent going over everything one last time and by 3 pm hit we were ready.

Everyone went their separate ways to get suited up and collected everything that was needed then afterwards, everyone met up at the platform.

It was now time to travel back in time. Steve even said a speech and it made you wonder just how long he was rehearsing it for.

"Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win. Whatever it takes. Good luck" Steve said confidently.

No matter what Steve always believed in everyone which gave you confidence in yourself and that everything was going to be alright and run smoothly.

"See you in a minute," Nat said smiling at Steve. Little did they know...

Everyone entered the Quantum Realm and all went your separate ways to different time zone.

--------------------------⧗--------------------------

You were travelling through space in a spaceship that was shrunken down so it could be brought with you through the Quantum Realm.

You and Nat were dropping Rhodey and Nebula off at a planet called Morag first before the both of you headed to Vormir.

You and Nat got back in the spaceship and made your way to Vormir.

You spent this time just chatting with your Mom. She loves listening to your stories.

After Nat landed the ship and you both left got off it you looked up and saw that there was a massive mountain that you both had to climb. You were definitely not prepared for that.

"I bet the raccoon didn't have to climb a mountain," You said out of breath. At this moment in time, you very much regretted not sleeping in a few extra hours you definitely need it.

"Technically he's not a raccoon, you know," Nat said as she stopped waiting on you to catch up with her before putting her hand on your back to give you an extra push.

"Whatever, he eats garbage," You said as you focused on the path being extremely careful that you don't slip.

Natasha didn't say anything else she just let out a light laugh.

"Welcome," A voice said that startled us causing us to quickly pull out our guns pointing them at whatever it was that just welcomed us.

"Natasha, daughter of Ivan. Y/N, Daughter of Natasha." The voice said to us in an oddly calming way.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x daughter!reader #mama nat #natasha x gn!teen!reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha's kid #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x teen #natasha romanoff x y/n

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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Cooking in the Crest (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Summary: You become sick of the endless prepackaged food you eat while living on the Razor Crest. From a holovid, you and Din try to learn how to cook.

W/C: 3.2k

Warnings: FOOD is a big warning here; this is all about food, cooking, and eating; some language, and mentions of violence and blood because Din is a hunter.

A/N: this was a request by lovely @binarydanvvers !! I hope you guys like it too :))

The Razor Crest was not exactly built to be a home. The beat up old ship, a pre-Imperial piece of garbage, was mainly meant to be a freighter, to carry loads and supplies around. It had a bunk, yes, but that was mainly for the pilot to sleep. Some ships were elaborately built and crafted to house people, even families; this was not one of them.

You could tell that from the moment you walked aboard. This was not built to be a home, but the Mandalorian and his little green child had made it one. It was endearing, really. It was still cold and harsh, not exactly welcoming, but there were little touches. A sling for the baby to sleep in above the man’s bunk. A few scattered toys for the kid. Extra clothing tucked away, and what seemed to be a makeshift kitchen.

It can hardly be called a kitchen. It’s more of a food storage area. The Mandalorian man has stored packets of food, dried or wrapped, water, and other assorted food necessities in a small corner of the ship. There’s also a device for heating meals, like the just-add-water foods he carries so many of.

The baby doesn’t complain. Well, he really can’t, considering that he cannot speak yet, but he never pushes away the food. Of course, his favorites are frogs and occasional organic things he picks up on the surface of the latest planet, but he’s never refused a nutrient bar or an instant bread loaf. The kid is always hungry; he’ll take anything.

You’ve been traveling with Din for a while now. He entrusted you with his name not long after he entrusted you with the care of his foundling. He’s a kind man, surprising beneath the layer of impenetrable beskar, with a warm laugh even through the modulator.

In this time, you’ve become exhausted over the endless routine of microwavable carbohydrate packs with dried proteins. A nutrient bar is a nice switch, but it’s endless days and nights of bland food. “Do you even eat? Does your species photosynthesize or something?” You’d asked Din once, teasingly knocking on his beskar.

“I’m human,” he assured you, voice dry. He presents himself as tired of your endless teasing, but you both know he could never be. You’re the energy, the entertainment to him and his little green child.

“I doubt that,” you teased, nudging his hip with your own as you walked past, the baby on your other side, giggling at your words.

The kid is smart. He can’t yet speak, but he can recognize meaning in words and the emotions you convey with your tones. You’ve been steadily working on teaching him the right morphemes to form words, but he’s just not quite there yet. He made a little babbling noise at his father, then turned and looked up at you, grinning with tiny white teeth.

Din must eat, you’ve come to notice. He never takes the helmet off; you’ve never heard his voice without the modulator, you’ve never seen him eat. But the stock of food dwindles at a quicker pace than it would for one and a half people, so he must consume some of it. You’ve noticed that the dried proteins or instant spicy grains go quicker- those must be his favorite. You’ve made mental notes several times to pick up extra when shopping.

As the three of you take off from the last planet, a lively and populous city center, your stomach is happy with its contents: you and the baby had gone on a culinary tour, trying different local delicacies. You glance at the kitchenette in the corner and wince at the protein bars. Surely you’ll be reduced to eating the dry and chalky sustenance the next time you’re hungry.

The baby sits in your lap, bouncing excitedly as the ship lifts off. He coos and waves his hands excitedly as Din turns and navigates, though it’s nothing too bumpy for the little thing to handle. There’s a jolt when you leave the atmosphere, and the baby squeals as the stars rush past when Din maneuvers the Crest into hyperspace.

Once the course is set, Din turns to you. You wonder what he’s thinking; it’s a shame you can’t see his face. “We should be at our next location in about a day.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, heightened over the prospect of eating more dried, flavorless food. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Do I know how to what?” Din asks, cocking his head.

“Cook. You know, make food in a way other than using the microwave.”

Din stares at you for a minute. “No, I really don’t. I’ve never had reason to.”

“You don’t consider eating this bland shit eternally a reason?” You ask, folding your arms. The little green baby on your lap mirrors your actions, looking at his father. “I don’t either, but I think we both need to learn. I’m sick of this endless dried food and nutrient bars and instant grains.”

His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. “Fine. How?”

“How what?” You ask, taunting him back from his earlier sarcastic question.

“How are we going to learn how to cook?”

You shrug. “We could take a cooking class on some populous planet. They have them for couples.”

Din looks at you, sharply even though you can’t see his face. “Okay, well, two people,” you chuckle, though you can’t help but notice the rigidity of his body. You’re skilled at reading his body language by now; something changed in him when you said couple. “Why the hell not?”

“Because, cyar’ika, I am a Mandalorian. I’m not exactly going to fit in with the happy honeymooners at a cooking class, searing bantha for my beloved.”

You frown at him. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Din. Work with me here.”

Din is frowning beneath the helmet. You can just tell. “I don’t exactly take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” you roll your eyes. “It’s a request. Please.”

Din sighs. He’s quiet for a minute. Then: “Fine.”

“Yay!” You grin and brace his beskar helmet in one hand, pressing a kiss to the visor. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

“I don’t know how fun that can be,” he grumbles.

The holonet turns out to be a surprisingly vast resource for cooking and recipes. You’d never expected this much to be uploaded to it. There are traditional dishes from Tatooine, Naboo, anywhere really. The first struggle is deciding what to cook.

You stop at another populous planet next. Thank the Maker, you mumble as you put the baby in the wrap carrier that straps him to your chest. “We’re gonna make something good, huh kiddo?” You ask and smooch the baby’s little green head. He just coos in return.

Wandering through the planet, you find various little specialty shops, and you mark off the list you’ve created. Spices from the shop specializing in them, fresh vegetables at a stall, meat from a grocer. When the foods are all collected, you return to the ship, where Din has purchased a portable heat source to be used for cooking.

The business Din has on the planet goes quickly and he’s back before you know it. You’ve barely had time to clean the vegetables under the small refresher sink before you hear the clink of beskar and the baby’s excited laughter at his return.

You carry the bowl of vegetables and grin as you spot Din on a crate in the corner, wiping down his armor of blood. “Welcome home, bounty hunter,” you tease as you arrange some crates to form a table and chairs and set the holoprojector in the center. “How’d we do today?”

“Wonderful,” he grumbles as he wipes a smear of mud off his chest plate. He finishes then looks at your arms, holding the ingredients. You set them down and the hot plate as well. “We’re cooking now?”

“I’m hungry,” you shrug.

Din nods. “I suppose. Do you want me to get piloting us out of here and then we can start?”

You shrug again. “We paid for a full day and night. Might as well use it.”

He nods and begins removing his beskar, leaving him in just his flight suit and helmet. You cock an eyebrow at him and tilt your head in confusion. “Don’t wanna get any food on the beskar.”

This makes you genuinely laugh, throwing your head back. “Oh, blood and dirt and mud are okay but no food? You have some odd standards, Din.”

No one has called him by his name since he was a child. You’ve never even said it aloud save for once or twice. The sound of your voice saying it is like the sweetest music; he could listen to it eternally. He’s a little nervous inside, tingly and fluttery from the feeling. Thank the Maker his helmet doesn’t let it show.

“Go wash your hands and let’s get going,” you order him, stacking two extra crates and setting the child on top so he’s the same height as the two of you. He’s delighted by the view, looking around.

You put the vessel on the hot plate then turn it on, unsure of how quickly it heats. Din returns not long later, sitting on his crate across from you. “First step?”

To answer his question, you turn on the holovid. A cheerful Zabrak narrates for you and shows you the steps, starting with the first: to chop the ingredients. Din reaches for his leg and you shoot him a glare, pausing the video. “You were not about to use that knife to prepare our dinner.”

Din just looks at you. “Why not?”

“God, you’re impossible,” you laugh, though it’s lighthearted teasing. “No, use this, a clean one.” You hand it over along with a few vegetables. Din starts cutting with neat precision, the yellow tuber vegetable falling in perfectly round slices to the surface you’d laid down before.

The baby whines in protest; he wants in. Looking around, you scramble for something before giving him the softest vegetable and a plastic utensil. “How’s that?” You ask him.

He’s delighted, slicing his vegetable and mirroring his parents and the video. When the step is finished, you press play again and it informs you to add some of the oil and cook the vegetables first.

Din pours them in, causing a sizzle from the hot cooking vessel. “Ooh, it must be ready,” you grin and drizzle some oil over the top.

“I don’t think that’s the order we were supposed to do it,” he points out, rewinding the video.

“Oh well,” you shrug and stir the vegetables. The aromatic plants waft from the steam, making you sigh in happiness at how wonderful the recipe smells, even now. “Can you smell under there?”

Din shakes his head.

You frown. “I’ll close my eyes. Lift your helmet and take a smell, it’s delicious.” You squeeze them shut as if to prove you’ll do it.

He would never trust anyone else like this. He’s surprised he even trusts you enough, but he unlatches his helmet and lifts it just enough to catch a whiff of the delicious smell. He sighs happily too and puts the helmet back on. “You can look again.”

You open your eyes and smile at him. “Well, we’re not doing terribly! What’s next?”

The video plays a little longer, telling you the next steps: add the spices to the cooking vegetables, stirring them in, then the broth you’ve purchased.

Picking up the bag, you rummage through for the intended spices. “You wanna do this part?” You ask Din.

“I’ll probably mess up.”

“Give it a shot,” you say with a warm smile and hand him several small pouches of spices and a measuring stick.

His fingers are thick and worn without the gloves, and the sight of them pinching the bright orange powder and sprinkling some in the pot is truly humanizing, indicative that this man is Din, not The Mandalorian like you knew him as before. He does that with the required spices, choosing to go by heart rather than the measured values.

You go next, adding the broth to the pot and closing your eyes to listen to the beautiful hiss of the liquid against the hot metal. “Do you think you could cook on beskar?” You tease Din. The man just shakes his head.

The recipe then indicates for you to cut up the meat and add it before covering and letting it boil. Din uses the sharp knife you’ve provided to once again, neatly slice the meat and add it to the pan. “You’re quite precise with that thing,” you inform him with an impressed nod.

He snorts. “I know the ten quickest ways to kill someone with it.”

“Still, precise to do that,” you laugh. You cover the pot and sigh, setting a timer on the holopad to the amount of time needed before the meal will be ready; thanks to the specialized tech in the hot plate, it won’t take long at all.

The baby shows you his knife work with the mushed vegetable. It’s considerably less impressive than Din’s, but you ooh and ahh over it all the same, making the baby beam with pride. “Your knife work rivals your father’s, little man,” you tease the baby and poke his side.

“Yeah right,” he snorts again and leans back against the metal wall of the Razor Crest’s hull.

While the food carries on its quick cooking, you prepare three bowls and spoons to eat with, setting each in front of where the three of you sit. The bowl is much smaller for the child, but he seems just as pleased.

The timer dings and you clap your hands together in excitement. “Let’s see!”

Lifting the lid, the smell that wafts out makes your stomach growl. “Oh, this is going to be good,” you sigh, setting the lid aside on the heatproof surface and scooping some into each bowl. “Careful, it’s hot,” you warn your boys as you a hand them their respectful bowls.

“It sounds wonderful but… you know I can’t eat it,” Din reminds you.

That makes you frown. “Of course you can. We made it together.”

“No,” he sighs. “I can’t eat it because I’d have to remove my helmet.”

The idea crosses your mind as quickly as his words. “Well then.” You stand and push your crate aside, then pull him up and do the same. With your bowl of stew in hand, you plop down on the floor and turn your back to him. “Now you sit with your back to me.”

“Cyare, I-“

“Just humor me, Din. Please.”

He sighs and gets on the floor, groaning at the creak of his joints and popping of his back. Din presses his back to yours, sitting with his legs splayed carelessly to either side. “There. This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Now eat. I won’t look, and the kid is your foundling, he can see you.”

Din is hesitant at first. He sits there for a moment while the baby slurps his dinner, pondering what to do. Then he remembers how much he trusts yoh. How you’d do anything for him and he’d do anything for you.

He removes his helmet, setting it to the floor with a heavy clunk. “There we go,” you smile and reach behind you to pat his chest. “Eat up. I bet you’re hungry from that hunt.”

“Hungrier from making this,” he grumbles as he scoops a spoonful, ungracefully shoving it in his mouth and moaning in content. “Oh, that’s damn good.”

“Isn’t it?” You laugh, eating some yourself and smiling at the flavor. “Seasoned just right,” you affirm him, resting your head back against his own. You can feel that he has hair- well, now you know he isn’t bald.

“Cooked properly thanks to you,” he reminds you.

“Ha! I don’t know shit about cooking. Thank that holovid,” you chuckle, nestling your back against his. You can feel every little notch of his spine, the lumps in a perfect line cascading down his body, as his back presses against yours. He’s warm, and you can feel him breathe in and out slowly- he’s relaxed. Good.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you eat your meals. The kid has long finished his tiny bowl and has passed out in his seat, which makes you laugh. He’s missing the sight of his helmetless father thanks to a post-meal nap.

No words need to be exchanged. There’s meaning in the silence, in the fact that you can hear his breathing and his real voice, the hard gulp of his throat as he swallows yet another bite. Maker, he’s so wonderfully human. You absolutely adore it.

When you’re done with your stew, you set your bowl to the side. Din does the same, and his back relaxes against yours. Neither of you are quite ready for him to put the helmet back on, so you breathe the unfiltered air with him, listen and feel him breathing, try to take in every detail of what his body feels like pressed to yours, even if it’s back to back.

“Din?” You ask softly after a few moments.

“Yes, cyare?”

“I promise my eyes are closed,” you tell him.

“What do you mean-“

Din is cut off when you close your eyes but turn, kissing his cheek. You can feel stubble beneath your lips, and above it smooth skin. God, he feels so damn warm. With your eyes still closed, you hug his neck. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

Din breathes slowly, forcing his heart rate not to accelerate into hyperspeed. “It’s not putting up with you,” he admits. “It’s enjoying you. I really do.”

The words make you flushed and flustered, honored that this strong and silent type has used such eloquent words to compliment you. “Thank you. For all of this, Din. Thank you for letting me know you.”

He’s grinning ear to ear, and he turns his face to kiss your cheek back. “You can know me all you want to, mesh’la.” Din puts his hands over your arms and takes one last moment in your arms. “Well, we need to put the child to bed, and I’m legally supposed to be wearing my helmet right now.”

You turn and sit with your back to him, smiling and nearly giddy from the moment. “Who’s gonna yell at you if you don’t? Mando police?”

Din groans and puts his helmet back on, ignoring you. When you both stand, you hug him for real this time, chests pressed together. “Thank you for a wonderful meal,” he mumbles through the modulator and presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss. “Let’s do this more often.”

“I agree,” you nod and kiss his helmet one last time.

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal

#din djarin x you #grogu and din #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din and grogu #din djarin headcanons #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian headcanons #mando #mando x reader

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archangeldyke-all · 1 year ago

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hello hello!!! here's the first 2 chapters of my next big fic as a little teaser for what's to come! the entire fic will be posted on the 24th on ao3, but for now-- enjoy this!

men and minors dni

You’re fucking starving. You haven’t eaten in a day and a half. It’s not the longest you’ve gone without food, but that doesn’t make the growling in your stomach any more comfortable. You’ve been collecting glass bottles all day, slowly filling up the potato sack hanging over your shoulder. Each bottle is worth a copper piece at the recycling plant-- but a full sack is worth ten gold. With that kind of money you could rent a room for the night, sleep in a fucking bed for once.

You sigh as you haul yourself out of the dumpster you were scouring, hitching your half-full potato sack further up on your shoulder. Your stomach growls loudly as you amble your way out of the dingy alleyway and onto the main road. It’s a shockingly pleasant day in the Undercity, a warm breeze tickling your face as you navigate the busy streets.

People give you a wide berth nowadays-- at least wider than it used to be. You’re not an unusual site in Zaun, though it is strange for a street dweller like yourself to have clear eyes. You haven’t given into the shimmer craze… at least not yet. You aren’t sure if your resolve will hold come winter. Shimmer keeps the body warm. Warm and dazed.

You shake your head to clear the thoughts of the neon substance, determined to ignore its existence until absolutely necessary. You’ve seen too many people get hooked on it. You’ve seen too many people die from it. You won’t let yourself become one of them, things aren’t that bad… yet.

You turn down an alleyway, trudging toward an overflowing dumpster. Shrouded in shadows, you can barely make out the figure of an old woman slumped against the wall beside the dumpster. She mumbles incoherently at you, her hand littered with purple blisters and scars.

“Evening ma’am,” you say as you launch yourself over the lip of the dumpster. She mumbles back. “I won’t bother you for long. Just looking for glass. You seen any? You know they give you ten gold for a full sack?” You ask as you slice through garbage bags with your pocket knife. The woman slumps to sleep with a grunt. You sigh. “I guess it’s not that interesting is it?” You whisper to yourself as you inspect the contents of the garbage bags. Nothing. Shit. Your stomach growls and you eye a loaf of moldy bread in the corner of the dumpster.

You really shouldn’t. Last time you ate moldy food you were vomiting and shitting yourself for three days, which is unpleasant to begin with, but even more so when you don’t have access to a bathroom. But you’re fucking starving.

Your mouth salivates as you pick up the loaf, inspecting it closely. The mold’s grown its own fuzz, little green hairs waving at you as the wind blows. You really shouldn’t.

You tear the loaf in half. The inside isn’t moldy… yet. Maybe you could pick out the good stuff. You start to rip through the loaf, looking for a salvageable bite. The woman outside the dumpster lets out a snore. Your stomach lets out another growl. You sigh, bringing the bread to your mouth.

“Here goes nothing.” You whisper.

“Shit!” A high pitched voice rings out. You jump, the bread flying out of your hands as you whip around in the dumpster. Crouching down near the mouth of the alleyway is a little kid with a choppy haircut. She smacks her head repeatedly. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” She mutters. You climb out of the dumpster, slowly approaching the kid.

“Uh.” You say. The girl’s eyes snap up to yours, and she cowers against the wall. “You okay?” You ask. Her eyes are sparkling with tears, snot trailing out of her nose.

“I fucked up.” She whispers to you. You blink. You don’t think you’ve ever heard a kid this small curse like that.

“Watch your language?” You say uncertainty. She blinks at you, a tear slowly falling down her cheek. “C’mon it can’t be that bad.” You say. “What’d you do, shoplift?” You ask. You remember being a kid her age and getting chased out of convenience stores with your friends, pockets stuffed with candy, laughing all the way home. The little girl blinks again. “It’s cool, you can just give the shit back. Play up the misguided kid act, give ‘em puppy eyes, they’ll let you off the hook.” You say. She sniffs up at you.

“I didn’t shoplift. I--”

Across the street, a corner store bursts into flames. You pull the kid in your arms as the shockwave from the explosion knocks you both on your asses. You groan, pulling away from the girl as alarms begin to blare and people begin to panic.

“I did that.” She finishes. You chuckle as you stand up and dust yourself off.

“Come on, where’re your parents? They’re probably worried about you now.” You offer the kid a hand, and she takes it, shakily standing.

“You don’t believe me?” She asks, wiping her snotty face with the back of her hand.

“That you didn’t steal? Nah, I believe you. You just gotta make sure the owner believes you.” You say. “Shit, was that Elijah’s?” You ask, peeking around the wall of the alley to watch as patrons come running out of the front door, smoke billowing out after them. The front window’s been blown out, flames growing inside the tavern. “Always hated that fucker. Serves him right. Wonder who he pissed off this time.” You mumble.

“Me.” The girl says. You chuckle.

“Yeah?”

“Well, he wouldn’t give me any fizzy juice and I know he had some. Then he called me a rat and told me to scram. So I snuck in and rigged the joint to blow. Only problem is… I set the timer on the bomb to a minute instead of an hour.” She says with a shrug, scratching her blue hair. You blink. “Plus, the old man I’m living with was talking about Elijah a few weeks ago. Said he was competition or something. So yaknow. Two birds, one bomb.” She rambles. You blink again. Across the street, a man screams as his shirt catches on fire. People swarm him, trying to pat out the flames. You blink for a third time.

“How old are you?” You choke out, eyes snapping back to the kid in front of you.

“Nine and three quarters! Almost double digits.” She says with a proud smile.

“Uhm.” You say, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. God, you haven’t talked to a kid in years. “Aren’t you a little young to be… blowing shit up?” You ask. The girl huffs a put upon sigh.

“That’s what everyone says.”

“Hey!” An angry voice rings out. Both of your heads snap to the street where Elijah stands, silhouetted by the flames consuming his bar.

“Shit.” The kid whispers. You gulp.

“Hey you! Grab that fuckin’ kid!” Elijah says, pointing at you. You freeze. The kid beside you freezes as well. “I’m gonna kill you, you little shit!” He says as he tears across the street toward the two of you. Fuck.

“Fuck!” The girl shrieks, tugging on your hand, trying to get you to run. You blink. Elijah is suddenly towering over you, nostrils flared, brow dirtied with soot. The kid cowers behind you.

“I recognize you, you filthy bitch. You’re the one always crawling through my dumpsters. Step aside and I won’t kill you too.” He growls.

“Get fucked.” You say. You try not to laugh at the way his face jumps in surprise. “What, you think a little kid blew up your place?” You ask, pushing the girl behind you. “She can’t even fuckin’ read!”

“Yes I can.” The girl mumbles under her breath.

“She’s been terrorizing my establishment for months!”

“She’s nine and a half!” You shout, puffing out your chest and standing up straight.

“Nine and three quarters.” She huffs behind you. You elbow her.

“You’re a grown man Elijah, and you wanna beat up a little girl? Go fuck yourself.” You say. Behind your back, you start shooing the kid away with your hand. She tugs on yours but you shake her off, pushing her further down the alley. Elijah’s staring you down, cracking his knuckles and settling into a fighting stance. You gulp. “Matter of fact, what makes you so sure it was her? Half of Zaun hates your guts. It coulda been anyone!” You hear the little footsteps of the kid as she scurries away, and luckily Elijah’s too focused on you to notice. “Coulda been me.” Elijah raises an eyebrow.

“You?” He scoffs.

“Yeah, jackass. You really pissed me off when you threw water on me last week. I’m not a fuckin’ animal, you know.” He laughs at this. “Matter of fact, it was me!” You say. You must be hysterical from the starvation, because you can’t seem to keep your mouth shut. “That’s right asshole, bet you didn’t think I knew anything about explosives, did ya?” You taunt.

“That’s enough outta you. Move.” He says, shoving you. You don’t budge.

“No.” You say. He growls.

“One more warning, whore.”

“Get. Fucked.”

The next thing you know, you’re flat on your back in the alleyway, murky water slowly seeping in your clothes as Elijah pummels into you. You take half a dozen punches to your face, your nose crunching, one of your teeth cracking. Then he moves onto stomping your ribs, hard enough for you to lose your breath, your ribs cracking under his boot. You fade in and out of consciousness a few times, but before he can well and truly kill you, he stops.

“Where the fuck did she go?!” He spits at you. You blink up at him, dazed. “Fuck.” He lands one more solid kick into your ribs before he tears down the alleyway in pursuit of the kid.

You turn on your side, trying to catch your breath, watching your blood slowly trickle into the puddle below you. You hope the girl got away. Your eyes catch on the woman sleeping beside the dumpster. She’s either dead, or she slept through the explosion and fight. You hope she’s just sleeping. Somewhere in the distance, the fire brigade arrives. The pain in your body flares dramatically and you groan, tears starting to roll down your cheeks. You curl in on yourself as the pain wracks through your body, and you cry yourself to sleep.

“Over here!”

You blink awake. For a fleeting moment, the only thing you feel is the heaviness of your eyelids and the cool wet concrete beneath you. Your eyes focus on the woman by the dumpster, in the same position she was before you passed out, her skin pale and ghostly. You suck a breath in. She’s dead. You sigh an exhale, and suddenly, the pain in your body comes rushing in. You feel like you’ve been run over by a stampede.

“Fuck!” You moan, curling in on yourself. You hitch your breath and cry out in pain at the stabbing sensation that flares up in your sides. There’s a pounding in your head, your vision goes blurry and you close your eyes, crying.

Footsteps approach you. You blink your eyes open, but your vision fuzzes before you can make out more than a pair of boots in front of you. Fuck. You’re gonna throw up.

“Move.” You warn. It’s the only thing you manage to spit out before you’re spewing bile. The person connected to the boots groans.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” A woman’s voice growls out above you.

“Told you to move.” You groan. More footsteps. You try opening your eyes again. Several pairs of feet surround you now. Shit. “I don’t have any money.” You croak.

“You’re certain this is her?” A man’s voice asks.

“I’m nobody.” You insist, trying to sit up. The world spins beneath you and you collapse back on the pavement. You whimper. A hand grabs your shoulder. You flinch. “I said I don’t have any money!” You cry out.

“Shit, calm down.” The woman’s voice speaks again.

“Lemme see her face.” A squeaky voice sounds up. Your eyes snap open in shock. You know that voice. A boot covered in your vomit nudges you, and you flop on your back. Five people peer down at you. “It’s her!” The girl who blew up Elijah’s exclaims.

“What the fuck?” You say. Above you, a pale person with dramatic slanted bangs chuckles.

“That’s what I’m saying.” They mutter. The cloaked woman and tattooed wall of a muscular man beside them laugh.

“That’s enough.” The slender man looming over you snaps. They quiet immediately. He studies you intently. Half of his face is scarred, and his prosthetic black and orange eye bores into you. Beside him, the little girl is holding his hand. “Jinx here tells me you took a beating for her. Is that true?” He asks. Your eyes flick to the little girl. She nods at you, grinning.

“Um. Yes?” You say. It’s silent for a moment as the skinny man eyes you, then he snaps his fingers.

“Sevika.” He says, his eyes flickering over to the woman. “Get her.” He commands, turning on his heel, dragging the girl along with him. You blink. The giant tattooed man laughs and pats the woman’s shoulder as she scowls down at you. He and the pale person turn to follow behind the little girl and the skinny scarred man. The only person remaining in your visual field is the woman. She rolls her eyes.

Suddenly, you’re being lifted into her arms. You groan in pain as the woman jostles you. “Quit squirming.” She grunts as she begins walking behind her entourage. You gasp, her stomping footsteps sending flashes of pain throughout your abdomen.

“Where-- ow fuck!-- where are y-you taking me?” You ask. The woman glances down at you, but doesn’t say anything. She jostles you in her arms. You cry out, burying your face in her shoulder to muffle your cries.

Somewhere ahead of you, the skinny man’s voice rings out, “Be kind to our guest, Sevika.” The woman carrying you huffs.

“Fucking barfed on my boots.” She grumbles under her breath. You can only hear it because you’re tucked under her chin. You groan.

“S-sorry.” You stutter out through the tears. She doesn’t respond.

You don’t try to fight it. What could you do? You just let the little procession march you through the streets. The woman holding you is warm. You fall in and out of sleep against her.

One moment you’re outside and in the next you’re blinking awake on a doctor’s table.

The skinny scarred man is studying you. Beside him is another skinny man, the beginnings of shimmer scars decorating his skin.

“Put her back to sleep.” The one with the black and orange eye commands. You black out.

You wake up again in a bed, groggy and warm. You blink up at the ceiling. When was the last time you were this comfortable? You don’t remember. You fall back asleep trying to recall.

The next time you wake up, it’s to someone poking your face repeatedly. You flinch awake. The little girl from the alley is standing beside your bed. “You’re awake!” She says, excited. You blink again.

“I wonder why.” You grumble, smacking her hand away from your face. She giggles guiltily. “Where are we?” You ask her, trying to sit up in bed. One of her little hands shoots out to push your shoulder.

“Don’t get up.” She says. “‘Parently you broke your ribs.”

“Fuck.” You huff. She giggles again. You relax against the bed. “Am I on drugs?” You ask. You feel… no pain. And floaty in a nice way.

“Shimmer.” The little girl says. “And some other stuff.”

“Shit.” You say. There goes your goal to stay off the stuff. You huff out a defeated laugh, but it quickly turns into a happy little giggle. Shit, you really are high. “Shit!” You say again, laughing. The girl laughs with you.

“You say a lot of bad words.” She says, grinning. You raise a finger up to your lips in a ‘shh’ motion.

“You didn’t hear ‘em from me.” You say, threateningly. She laughs again. You smile. She’s a cute kid. “Did you really blow up that building?” You ask her. She nods proudly. You snort. “How?!” Her eyes get wide, a grin spreading on her lips as she scrambles to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. With flailing hand gestures, the little girl enthusiastically recounts her process, walking you through the various trials and errors she ran into trying to get inside Elijah’s, the type of explosives she used and how she charged them, and how the stupid kitchen timer betrayed her by the loose time switch downshifting from hours to minutes at the last moment.

“...and so then I had to run for cover, and you found me.” She finishes. You giggle.

“Where did you get explosives from?” You ask. She shrugs.

“Silco keeps ‘em locked up downstairs, just had to snag the key and let myself in.”

“Who’s Silco?” You ask.

“That guy I was with when we found you in the alley. He’s like my foster dad or something.” She says, shrugging.

“You live in a house with explosives in the basement?”

“No, silly, I live here.”

“Right…” You say. “And where are we… exactly?” You ask for the second time that night.

“Silco’s.” She says, squinting at you like you’re stupid.

“...Right.” You say, nodding like you understand.

“Wanna see a cool knife trick?” The girl asks, jumping off the bed and reaching in her back pocket. You shrug.

“Sure.” You say.

The door suddenly opens, the skinny scarred man standing on the other side. Silco, you guess.

“Jinx. What did I tell you about knives.” He says tiredly, walking in the room and snatching the knife out of her hands. She pouts and stomps her foot. “Go draw. I need to talk to our guest in private.”

“What? No fair! She’s the coolest person in this stinking place and I’m the one who found her! I should get to play with her all I want!” She demands. You blink, unsure if you should be flattered or worried that the strange kid’s taken a liking to you.

“She’s not a pet Jinx.” The man says, guiding the girl out of the room. “Go finish your mural in the east hall. I want to see what you end up doing with the green.”

The girl grumbles, stomping away. The man sighs and clicks the door shut, turning to face you. Suddenly, you’re nervous. You lift your hand. “Uh. Hi.” You say.

“Hello.” He says. He pulls a chair up to your bedside and sits, crossing one of his legs over the other. He studies you intently. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions, all of which I’ll be happy to answer. But first I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Don’t think I got a choice, do I?” You ask with a chuckle. He smiles.

“No, I suppose you don’t.”

“Shoot.” You say, shrugging. He clears his throat, eyeing your neck. You gulp.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the niece of Ms. Bonnie May, would you?” He asks. You spring up in bed, the pain that suddenly swells in your sides is nothing compared to the chill of fear that shoots down your spine.

“How the fuck do you know that name?” You ask Silco rises, reaching out to steady you and help you lie back down.

“Relax. I was friends with Bonnie.” He says as he eases you back onto the pillows. You blink.

“Work friends?” You ask. He nods, sitting back down. You blink again, understanding slowly dawning upon you. You shake your head and laugh. “What’d she do for you?” You ask. Silco sighs, a reminiscent smile tugging on his lips.

“Smuggling mostly. She really was the best there was, as I’m sure you know. She saved my life several times in that damn basement of hers.” You snort a laugh. “And of course the odd counterfeited document.”

“You weren’t a fan of her home brew then?” You ask with a smile. Silco chuckles.

“Did she really have customers for that shit?” He asks. You giggle.

“Half a dozen regulars.” You say. Silco shivers.

“She’d drink it like water! I was always impressed by that.” He says. You laugh.

“She was a tough old broad.”

“She was.” He says, solemnly. For a moment, it’s silent. You try to swallow back the sudden lump in your throat. “She talked about you all the time.” He says. You scoff.

“How I was eating her out of a house and home?” You guess. Silco smiles.

“That, and the teenage mood swings.” You grin.

“She was always talking shit.”

“She loved you dearly.” He says. The sudden seriousness in his voice catches you off guard. The tears in your eyes quickly begin to well up again.

“How’d you know I was hers?”

“Your scar.” He says, nodding to the side of your neck. You reach up, gently tracing raised skin beneath your ear. Your aunt was a talented woman with a flair for the dramatic-- her products always had a hidden calling card: a cockroach. Whether printed microscopically in the seal of her counterfeit Piltover cash, etched into the bottom of her bottles, or branded into the skin of her patients, your aunt signed all her work with the indestructible bugs. The message was clear. If it was signed with a roach, Bonnie May did it. “I have one of my own, here.” He says pointing to his stomach. “I was disemboweled. She shoved my guts back in and sewed me up.” He says. “It was a miracle I lived.” You laugh.

“You know she only ever lost five people?”

“She was incredible.”

You and Silco are silent for a moment, memories of your aunt flashing though your minds. Finally, you speak. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking… where are we, exactly?” You ask. Silco perks up in his seat.

“Oh, yes! Well, you see, Jinx has recently come into my care.” He begins. You nod. “And while we’ve made great progress in these past two years together, she still has a tendency to sneak away and get herself in trouble.” He scratches the back of his head. “She’s a troubled girl…”

“She’s smart.” You say. He grins with pride.

“She’s a genius. But she doesn’t think things through. I have no doubt in my mind Elijah would’ve killed her if you hadn’t stepped in. I had no idea who you were before we found you, I simply wanted to repay the debt to whoever protected Jinx. But then I saw your neck, and your condition, and well. Your aunt wouldn’t want you on the streets. With all she did for me in her life, and with what you did for Jinx, I thought it best I bring you back here.”

“And… where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“The Last Drop. My headquarters.”

“That bar downtown?” You ask.

“The one and only.”

“What are you… headquartering?” You ask. Silco examines you, then leans forward.

“Your aunt was a strong soldier in the rebellion. I take it you share the same… political sentiments?” He asks. You snort.

“I’m not a bootlickin’ narc, if that’s what you’re asking. Bonnie raised me with proper values.” Silco smiles.

“I figured. I’m the head of a particularly lucrative business operation.” You tick an eyebrow up.

“Drugs or sex?”

“Shimmer.” He says.

“You’re the one who’s been putting that shit on the streets?” You ask. He nods. You grunt. “And what does that have to do with the rebellion?”

“The money I make goes towards the independence of Zaun.” He says. You laugh.

“Yeah? Who died and put you in charge?” You ask. Silco scowls at you. “Shit, okay.” You say, raising your hands. “Sorry.”

“You’ve certainly got your aunt’s mouth.” Silco says. You huff a laugh. That’s true. Bonnie was always getting into trouble for running her mouth.

“So… why did you bring me to the headquarters of the rebellion?” You ask. Silco hums.

“I’m hoping maybe your mouth isn’t the only thing you inherited from Bonnie. You could be of great help to us here. I owe you a debt-- I owe your aunt several. I figured I could start my pay back with an offer.”

“An offer?” You ask.

“You clearly aren’t in the best situation right now.” Silco says bluntly. “I can give you a room. Here. And a paycheck every week.” He says. You snort.

“That’s kind of you, sir, but Bonnie never let me near her work. I’d be useless here.”

“If I asked you to make me a bottle of moonshine the way Bonnie used to, you’d be able to, yes?”

“Well, yes, but you just said you didn’t like--”

“And if I asked you what to do if you’re ever being questioned by enforcers?” He asks, cutting you off.

“Say nothing, request your Undercity-relation representative--”

“You know basic first aid?” He asks. “CPR?”

“Well, yes, but--”

“How about Bonnie’s old mineshaft, with that elevator up top-- you remember where that is? Could you get me there?”

“Yeah, it’s just north of the--” You’re cut off again.

“And Jinx. You’re good with her.”

“I mean… I’ve spoken to her twi--”

“You were on the streets for how long? More than half a year now? And you’ve avoided shimmer this long. You’re resilient.” He says.

“I haven’t had to get through winter yet.”

“You took a beating for a girl you’ve never met.”

“She’s a kid, any decent person would’ve--”

“Your aunt taught you self defense? Basic knife skills?”

“Sure, but everyone down here--”

“You’re hired.” Silco says. You snap your mouth shut. Tears well in your eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” You say.

“Why not?” Silco asks. “You don’t want it?”

“Of course I want it but--”

“Then you’re hired.”

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you

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babblydrabbly · 3 years ago

Text

You Were In The Darkness Too (Cleo Cazo x Reader) Pt. 2

Pairing(s): Cleo Cazo/Ratcatcher II x F!Reader

Characters: Cleo Cazo/Ratcatcher II

Rating: General

Word Count: 1k+

Warning(s): Language, rats (ovbs), mentions of assault (mugging), The Suicide Squad (2021) spoilers.

Summary: You don't know how to thank Cleo for her help— But you do know how to make breakfast. Part 2/4

A/N: Pt. (1) This was going to be 3 parts but now it's gonna be 4! I know how it ends but I want to take my time getting there haha. Inspired by this prompt list, #44 Tentative kisses given in the dark (eventually).

---

You groaned as you reached up at your bathroom window from the outside, shoving at it and praying that it was open. It budged; You sighed, relieved, and glanced down at the woman standing below you. Cleo waited patiently in the alleyway of your dingy apartment building.

In the light of late morning, you saw that Cleo was taller than you— When she stood up straight, uncurling from her cautious movements down underground. You also saw that she had short, dark hair, and a pair of striking green eyes. They stood out from the black of her clothes, her curious mask.

You had said nothing to her as she led you through Gotham’s sewers. She apologized for taking you down a longer route, explained that anything more direct would lead you waist-deep in dirty water and garbage— And you’d had a difficult night.

She threw an encouraging smile over at you, telling you she didn’t want to make it any harder. You felt your lip tremble, nodding numbly as you trailed behind her.

She was peering curiously up at you now, her mask off and tucked away in the bag she kept on her shoulder. You lingered at the window, worrying at your bottom lip.

Cleo watched you close and release you fist nervously at your side a few times in thought. She noted an angry bruise on your elbow now that the two of you were above ground— Probably from when you had been fending off the bad man in the subway. It pulled at her heartstrings. Your adrenaline gone now, you were most likely in more pain than before.

“Did you… Did you want to come inside for a bit?” You asked her.

She wasn't hesitant at all, flashing you an appreciative grin and hoisting herself up beside you.

And that’s how you ended up with a girl named Cleo Cazo in your bathroom, the soft sound of her humming drifting out into your studio as she took a shower. You helped her up into your window, offering to make her something to eat. It was the least you could do to thank her.

You opened your sparse fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs, some butter, an open package of bacon. You busied yourself with slicing up a loaf of bread you had taken home from work yesterday. It crackled pleasantly as you sawed off a few pieces.

Your ears pricked when you heard the water turn on. You glanced up at the bathroom door across the room, and then quickly darted your eyes away.

Cleo had stripped off her black jacket and gear; You saw the flash of a pale back before you realized that she had begun showering with the bathroom door open. After a moment, you chuckled to yourself— She certainly didn’t have a problem making herself at home.

A shower. Cleo squeeze a dollop of sweet smelling shampoo into her hand, grinning as she lathered it into her hair. She peered down at all your half empty bottles and tools— A loofah, something that looked like a little stone on a dish. Cleo hadn't showered in quite some time; She had yet to find a place to clean up. It was easy to find places to sleep, places to store belongings for later. Bathtubs weren't a priority for Cleo at the moment. Cleo scrubbed beneath her nails, singing to herself.

The small studio quickly filled with the smell off fried eggs and bacon as you kept your eyes down on the food in front of you. You both take about ten minutes— The faucet turning off around the same time you were done plating everything.

“Come, Sebastian.” You heard her say. It was followed by the light glug of a stopper being pulled out of the bathroom sink. Sebastian made a sound, and you couldn’t help but feel like it resembled a whine. When Cleo comes out in her black undershirt and pants, you offer her a mug of orange juice.

“I’m out of coffee. Hope this is alright.” You said sheepishly. She took the cup with her free hand, Sebastian sniffing around the air in her other.

“This is more than anything!” She exclaimed. Without waiting she moved to the food, taking up one of the stools that you kept tucked against the counter in lieu of an actual table.

“Oh, um,” You didn’t believe you were considering this, but you were trying your best to show your graditude, “Does he want a plate too, or….?”

Cleo shook her head. “No, he’s alright.” You watched her break a piece of bacon in half and hand it to the rat; He took it in both paws. You noticed then that Sebastian had been freshly toweled off too— That must have been what the little bath in the sink had been for.

You sat on the other stool, still not sure if you wanted to eat or not. You prodded the eggs with a fork distractedly.

The feeling of the man’s grip on your jacket had hit you again— The shove, the falling. You swallowed thickly, feeling sick.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been mugged. This was Gotham after all. You’d known when you took the bakery job you’d be risking it after dark. Still, you pushed the plate away, taking an unenthusiastic sip from your mug instead. Beside you, Cleo stopped stuffing her face hungrily.

“You’re hurt.” She said, gulping down what was in her mouth before sitting up.

You shook your head, “I’m alright— I’m just, shaken up. I—” You ran your hands over your bare arms. “I have to get a new pair of keys. I have to… ” Shit, there was no way you could afford a new phone right now. You huffed, tried to laugh it off. “I have to go back to work tonight.”

Cleo mulled your words over thoughtfully while Sebastian helped himself to the large slice of bread on her plate.

“I could walk you home tonight.”

You blinked up at her. “You would?”

She shrugged her thin frame. She took the bread back from Sebastian, and you tried not to giggle when he held out his little fingers, pouting. She took a bite.

“I don’t mind.” She reassured you.

Cleo, still new to Gotham and America in general, had spent the last few months alone. Well, without any people more than usual, anyway. It was what she was used to, but it had been a challenge now that she was in a new city, a new country. Despite what she had managed to save from pawning the trinkets the rats brought her, it had been hard finding a landlord to trust she could pay the rent.

She had been trying her best to start fresh. To live the kind of life that had a home and day jobs and bills. But it was an unfamiliar world— Cleo had grown up in something so different, so inexplicable to most.

"Let's be friends."

She said it so easily. So simply. It reminded you of when you were young. Of when saying 'friends' truly meant something— However far away childhood had seemed to you now. You took your mug, tapping it gently against the side of her. Cleo smiled.

"Friends." You said.

#cleo cazo x reader #ratcatcher ii x reader #cleo cazo x you #cleo cazo #Ratcatcher ii #tss 2021 #dceu fanfiction #this one is short but I intend on the last two being longer #Haha intention ;p

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rebeccawritesbooks · 3 years ago

Note

For any fandom! “It’s 3 AM, what’s going on in here?”“Okay, so. We’re out of bread but I really, really wanted a sandwich and all the stores are closed and I looked up a few recipes but I got really into it so now I may have made like eight different kinds and it’s too late to stop now.”

Thank you so much for this prompt! i really enjoyed writing this, I hope you enjoy this too!

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

Regina's work week had been a living nightmare. She'd had one meeting after another, so when she awoke at 3 a.m. on a Saturday to find her wife banging all the pots and pans in the kitchen, she was furious. She couldn't wait to hear the reason, especially since Emma was aware of Regina's need for rest. Regina forced herself out of bed and padded down the hall and down the steps until she reached the kitchen doorway. Regina couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Emma, who was wearing her Winnie the Pooh Pajamas and a white chef's hat on top of her head, while flour was all over the place, practically every surface, the floor, the stovetop, and even all over Emma.

Regina watched as she struggled to rouse herself a bit more before declaring herself. Regina was still trying to figure out what her wife had been doing as she was amused watching the blonde rush around the kitchen like a headless chicken, before long the timer on the stove went off, Emma raced over, opening the lid and bringing out a tray...it contained a loaf of bread. Regina was utterly perplexed. Emma had been preparing bread at 3 a.m., had she gone insane?

“Shit.” Emma smiled as she gazed at the freshly baked, golden, crusty loaf of bread. “Pure beauty.” Emma uttered this with a chef's kiss motion, coming from her fingers and lips and into the air. Emma removed her chef's hat and tossed it onto the counter, close to the loaf of bread that she had now put on a metal rack to cool.

Regina drew attention to herself by coughing loudly.

Emma flinched when she saw her irritated wife standing in the kitchen doorway. "Oh, hello!" Emma made an attempt with a smile.

"'Oh, hello?'" Regina mimicked. "It is three o'clock in the morning! What exactly is going on here?" Regina exclaimed as she entered the kitchen and stepped onto the chilly, flour-strewn floor.

"All right, so hear me out... We have no bread, but I really, really wanted a sandwich, and all the stores were closed, so I looked up a few recipes, but I got really into it, and now I think I've made eight different varieties, and it's too late to turn back now."

Regina listened with a pleased expression on her face. "Where is the other bread that you have made th-oh." Regina noticed the eight other loaves of bread on the far side of the kitchen, resting on a flour-covered countertop, which appeared to be nothing more than a pile of flour. Regina couldn't help but snicker as she approached, "At least we know how much of a human garbage disposal you are, this bread will be gone in two weeks, if not I'm sure Granny could always use some." Regina murmured as she wiped the flour off Emma's face and kissed her fresh bread-scented brow. "Are we finished with the bread for tonight?"

Looking around at all the bread, Emma grumbled, tired. "Perhaps we could send one off to Henry at college?"

"Or, since he'll be home for the weekend, we could just give him a loaf." Regina grinned, her weary arms wrapped over her blonde wife's shoulders. "Are we done with this bread-making hyperfocus of yours yet?"

"Yeah, I believe so -" "To be honest, I'm wrecked, and I know you are too; I'll tidy this up in the morning, okay?" Emma asked.

"All right, as long as it's done before Henry arrives home." Regina chuckled as they walked back up to bed, connecting arms with her wife after turning off the stove.

Regina promptly rushed back under the covers, but she stopped Emma before she could even go back under the covers. "Certainly not."

“What?” Emma raised her eyebrows.

"I am not going to sleep next to a sack of flour."

"OK, you're being a little theatrical, darling; I'm not a sack of flour, maybe a little dusty."

“Emma I could rename you Casper the Friendly fucking Ghost. Now go wash the flour off."

"Ugh, okay." Emma sounded like a frustrated child as she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, and soon Emma emerged wearing a fresh set of pyjamas that she had brought in with her. “Happy?”

“Very. Now we can both sleep peacefully."

Emma shook her head, with a bright grin before sliding into Regina's arms beneath the covers.

#swanqueen fanfiction #emma swan #emma swanmills #regina mills #regina swanmills #emma x regina #regina x emma #swanqueen

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blizzard202 · 8 months ago

Text

Standing Still

Hi reader, welcome to Standing Still!

This story is the complete narrative of the two characters created by Blizzard (@blizzard202) and Axol (@alien8tdd/@no-i-wanna-go-down)

The protagonists of this story are two Newsies named Raymond (Nicknamed Blizzard) and Archie (Nicknamed Pup).

Raymond was created by Blizzard, and Archie was created by Axol. We both write chapters together as co-writers.

Chapter One - Archie

It’s late, Archie knows that as he’s dragged by his brother through the streets. All he can register is that his brother has stolen a loaf of bread and now they’re being chased by around eight scary-looking men.

They turn a few corners. He can hear his brother swear under his breath. The grip on his wrist disappears before he hits the ground. Hard. There’s a sharp, ringing pain in his head. He blinks up at the scary men. They grab his arms, though a few others continue to chase Ashton. Before Archie can do anything, his vision fades to black.

All Archie can do is tuck himself into the corner of this cold, dark room, curl up on his side like a dog and close his eyes. He fights back tears.

What did I do wrong? Why did all of this have to happen? First ma and pa are gone and now…Archie doesn’t fall asleep for a long, long time. When he does, it’s a light, dreamless sleep, often interrupted by the scurrying of rats or the footsteps of more scary men like the ones that took him here. But he sleeps. Barely.

Chapter Two - Raymond

12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2… He springs up from his seat, locks up the doors of the shop, and makes his way down the road, dodging carriages and newsboys walking back to their lodging houses. He accidentally nicks a kid’s hat off when shooting his wrapper into the garbage can.

“Ay’ whaddya think you’re doin’?” The kid seems much too old to be a newsie, probably in his 20s at that point.

“Look, I’m sorry, you don’t gotta make a big deal about it.” Raymond says. The new face is slightly shorter than him, red hair, he looks tougher than Raymond though.

“It is MY first day on my job wit’ The Bronx newsies, and I don’t need you ruinin’ it, dipwad!” The guy takes a swing, Raymond dodges and trips him, making him fall flat on his back. He starts running. Wasn’t planning on dyin’ today.

“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! Are you alright ma’am?”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you for asking. I know it was an accident, it’s ok, things happen.” The two chat for a bit, then go their separate ways. That could’ve been way worse.

Suddenly, a man dressed in clothes not seeming to fit the streets of Manhattan. “Excuse me child, do you not see what you just did?” The mysterious man asked.

“Yes? I was runnin’ too fast and I accidentally bumped into a lady. Luckily I picked her up before she could hit the ground! She’s alright, I made sure-”

“That isn’t what I saw.” The man tells Raymond.

“Whaddya mean?” Raymond asks.

“What I think just happened was an attempted murder. Don’t you know how old that woman is? If she hit the ground, she would have perished the second she came face-to-face with that concrete. Luckily, you noticed that people were around, and played it off as some kind of accident.”

“What? You’re bein’ ridiculous! Why would I try to kill some poor old lady?” Raymond is flabbergasted, confused about what is entering his ears.

“I don’t know, why would you? OFFICERS! TAKE HIM AWAY!”

“What? What are you doin’!? I- Get offa me! Stop! I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Exactly kid. You didn’t do nothing, a double negative.”

“What did I do to you to deserve this? Why are you being so mean?!”

“Because I can. Wow! Two new inmates in one hour! We’re going to have a drink tonight boys!”

Chapter 3 - Archie