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ifmywishescametrue · 3 years ago

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i don't know if you're still taking prompts (so please ignore this if you aren't) but i cant stop thinking about your recent buckytony fic (and how much i love breaking up and making up as a trope) - so i was wondering if you'd be up for doing smth else w that trope for buckytony?? maybe they re-unite at a mutual friend's wedding?? and it brings up emotions about their almost wedding?? idk i just really love breaking up and making up as a trope and i really love your writing :))

thank you!! I'm very much up for doing another buckytony break up/make up, plus you deserve nice things for finishing law school - congrats on that!🎉🎉hope you like this one 😊

There's a ring on Bucky's finger.

It's the first thing Tony notices when he walks into the bar for Natasha and Sharon's joint bachelorette party. He stands there in the doorway, frozen and staring until someone clears their throat pointedly behind him, and he mumbles an apology as he moves out of the way.

He thinks about turning around and not coming back, just ditching the event entirely and maybe even the wedding tomorrow, but he tosses the ridiculous thought the second it comes. He promised Sharon when she asked him to be her man of honor that he could handle Bucky being Nat's. Living on the other side of the country afforded him to miss the rest of the events and planning along the way, and he could deal with one day of being cordial to his ex, even if the day comes with walking down an aisle together.

But now there's a ring on Bucky's finger.

The silver catches the light, and it's on prominent display with his left hand wrapped around a beer bottle. It shouldn't be possible for him to have moved on that quickly. Eight months shouldn't be long enough to bury three years of memories. Three years of hopes and dreams and plans for a future built together. Years of love so blindingly intense that it burrowed into Tony's soul to make a home and refused to be evicted just because it was supposed to be over.

Tony wonders what the timeline is. Did he find someone new while Tony was still just beginning to pick up his own scattered pieces? A first date for him while Tony was barely getting out of bed. When was it that he replaced Tony as the last person to have his heart? And how did he find forever in someone else so soon after losing the one he used to call his soulmate?

Natasha notices him first, still hovering near the entrance, and she raises a single eyebrow that calls him a coward. He rolls his eyes at the accusation, though it's accurate. She elbows Sharon to catch her attention, and before he knows it the entire small group is turning their heads his way, giving him no choice but to join them.

It's less bachelorette party and more pre-wedding celebration with the crowd they've gathered, all mutual friends of both brides with no regards for gender traditions that usually come with this night. Tony used to fit in well with them all, back when gatherings like this were just a typical Friday night. But he made himself an outsider between the move to California and the breakup with Bucky. All he has now with most of them is a dead group chat that hasn't been used in months. He wonders which one of them made the new one without him in it.

Sharon is the first to pull him into a hug, then Natasha follows suit. He gets a nod from Sam, a wave from Clint, and what might pass as a smile from Steve. Bucky stares so intensely that Tony can feel his eyes with his back turned, but when Tony looks his way, he pretends to be interested in the floor.

He had a plan before the ring threw him off. Step one should have been the entrance. Head held high, shoulders square, perfect outfit that shows everything off and compliments the Malibu tan he has now. Step two should be nonchalance. A light hearted greeting to everyone, accompanied by an easy grin and relaxed body language, and catching up with subtle brags slipped in. Show them all that he's doing better than he ever was, sitting on top of the world these days, even if most of the time it feels like he's barely above rock bottom.

Step three in his ideal scenario involved Bucky breaking down and begging to get him back. Some versions even had him on his knees for it, with tears running down his face. Others required it to be raining outside, and the cloudless sky ruined that before the ring on Bucky's finger did.

With steps one and three out the window, he tries to salvage step two.

“Hey,” Tony starts, a little too loud. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries again, “Hey, Bucky. It's good to see you.”

Bucky nods, a strained, jerky motion. “Yeah, you too. How, uh, how have you been?”

“Good. Really good, actually. Company just had its highest sales quarter yet, so it’s been a little crazy around there, but good.”

“Good,” Bucky repeats, and there’s a long awkward pause.

“And what about you?” Tony asks, and then because he can’t help himself, he adds, “I see you got engaged. Or, hell, I guess it could be married, even.”

Bucky freezes with parted lips and wide eyes for the briefest of moments, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to know about it or bring it up, and his eyes shift to the ring on his hand and stay there.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Engaged. Last week.”

Tony ignores the ache in his chest and plasters on a smile like he’s happy for him. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Steve introduced us. They work together.”

“So he’s at the museum then? I thought you used to say that you hated all those stuffy guys and Steve was the only one worth knowing.”

Bucky smiles, a fond thing that widens the crack in Tony’s heart. “Yeah, well, I guess I was wrong. Felix is a great guy.”

Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid name that probably matches a stupid, punchable face.

Some masochist thing pulls at him to make him keep digging for more information, a twisted need to know even as each word pushes the knife in deeper. He aims for casual, leaning back against one of the high top tables as he asks, “So how long have you been together?”

“Just a couple of months. Kind of fast, I know, but when you’re sure about something, it doesn’t really matter, right? Why waste time waiting?”

“Right, of course,” Tony says, a little flatter than he intends. “So why isn’t he here tonight? Hope it wasn’t to spare my feelings, because it’s really not necessary.”

Bucky falters, “It’s not? You, uh, you’re dating someone, then?”

Tony nods, and he wishes he had grabbed a drink before this so he could hide behind it as he lies through his teeth. “Only a few weeks, though. A little too early to be a wedding date, but I’m sure your guy will be there tomorrow right?”

“Oh, um, yeah, definitely. Why wouldn’t he be, right? There’s no reason I can think of,” Bucky says, stumbling around it. “But tell me more about your thing. Your person. How’s that going?”

Tony shrugs, and he finally pulls off that easy smile he’s been trying for. “Well, it’s not get engaged in a couple of months good, but it’s been really great. We’re taking it slow. Trying not to rush anything and just get to know each other first. I think it could really be something, though.”

“That’s good,” Bucky mumbles. “You deserve something good.”

He isn’t meeting Tony’s eyes anymore, almost like he’s upset that Tony moved on, and the vindictive part of Tony wants to be happy about it, but another part wants to be angry because it isn’t fair. It’s not fair to act like Tony should stay stuck in time, forever longing for him when he already moved on with someone else first. It’s hypocritical and selfish, even if Tony is lying about there being anyone else.

“Well, I’m gonna go get a drink,” Tony says, pushing down every feeling. “Should catch up with everyone else, too, while I’m at it. I’ll talk to you later.”

He heads over to the bar and isn’t surprised when Sharon joins him a moment later, right after he orders a double shot of whiskey. She puts an arm around his shoulder and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tony laughs, running a hand through his hair. “My ex is engaged to somebody else and apparently doing really fucking well. Meanwhile, I’m making up fake boyfriends that I’m taking it slow with, because last week I went on my first real date in eight months and cried in the bathroom in the middle of it. And then, at the end of the night, he literally told me to my face that he didn’t think a second date was a good idea. We weren’t even talking about it, Sharon. He said it unprompted when we were still ten minutes from his apartment, and I was driving.”

Sharon nods slowly as she processes the rant. “He told you he got engaged?”

“Yeah, thanks for not telling me, by the way. It was really fun to get blindsided by it.”

She ignores the complaint to ask, “What else did he tell you, exactly?”

“Oh, just the whole line about how you know when you know, and Felix is such a great guy, and all that bullshit.”

“Felix,” Sharon repeats.

Tony knocks back the rest of his drink and orders another. “Please tell me he’s not better looking than me. Tell me it’s a downgrade. Don’t lie, because I know I have to meet him tomorrow, but please give me something that will make this better.”

“Well, I can guarantee he’s not as attractive as you. But he’s a little too perfect, you know? Like how could this guy possibly be real, he’s so unbelievably perfect,” Sharon says.

“I told you to make me feel better, not worse.”

Sharon shakes her head with a smile, the arm around him tightening into an approximation of hug. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t think they’re going to last. He’s kind of flaky, too. Always cancelling at the last minute and all that. Bet he won’t even show tomorrow.”

The amusement on her face that she’s failing to hide confuses him. He’s starting to feel bad, though, for making the night about him when it should be about her and Nat.

Resolving not to dwell on it anymore, he squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, “Alright, enough sad drinking, and definitely enough about me. We’re celebrating you and Nat and a lifetime of sickeningly wonderful happiness for both of you.”

Sharon grins, “Hell yeah, we are.”

“Shots?”

“Is that even a question?”

_____________

He wakes up with a headache and hazy memories. Shots of tequila that turned into shots of vodka when Nat got involved, then Clint’s terrible suggestion to try a shot of every liquor they had to offer. He vaguely remembers the round of toasts and drunken impromptu speeches from everyone, locking eyes with Bucky and failing to look away on both their parts. There’s a blur of wandering hands and heated, messy kisses. A bathroom stall turned into a cab ride which turned into his hotel room. He knows what he’ll find next to him when he opens his eyes, and guilt comes in full force.

“I know you’re awake,” Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep. It used to be Tony’s favorite sound in the world. “And I know we’re both sorry about what happened, but pretending to be asleep isn’t fixing nothin’.”

Tony shifts over to his back, and if there was any question before about what happened between them, the all too familiar ache in his body would answer it. He stares up at the ceiling to avoid the acres of bare skin on display next to him.

“You should probably leave,” Tony says to the walls. “I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”

“I doubt it.”

Tony puts an arm over his eyes, partly to block out the light that makes them ache and partly to hide his face. “Just go, okay? It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again, and we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Was it a mistake?” Bucky asks. “It didn’t feel like one to me.”

He doesn’t answer, and it’s soft and broken when Bucky says his name. Too much for him to handle.

Tony pushes back the blankets and searches for Bucky’s clothes in the mess they’ve made. He finds the shirt first and throws it at him. “You’re engaged, which means it was a mistake.”

His boxers are on the back of the couch, jeans right in front of the door, and they join the pile on Bucky’s lap. “You promised the rest of your life to somebody else, and I’m pretty sure fidelity is supposed to go with that.”

He tosses a shoe in the general direction of the bed, and it hits the nightstand with a loud thud. The second shoe is still in his hand when Bucky gets up and walks over to him, taking it and letting it drop to the floor.

His eyes hold a level of intensity that Tony has spent months dreaming about, and Tony couldn’t look away or move from this spot even if he tried.

“Felix isn’t real,” Bucky says. “I made him up when you asked, because I didn’t want to tell you the truth that I haven’t moved on in the slightest. That I’m so pathetic that I’ve spent the last eight months wearing an engagement ring that I bought for a guy who doesn’t love me anymore because I don’t know how to let him go.”

Tony stops breathing. “What?”

Bucky slides the ring from his finger, holding it between them so Tony can see the inscription. Always yours. He can’t remember the last time he heard the words get spoken.

“When?” Tony asks hoarsely. “When did you get that and why didn’t you ever ask me?”

“About a year ago,” Bucky says, slipping it back on his own finger. He sits back on the edge of the bed and stares down at it, twisting it around. “I thought about doing it on your birthday, but Nat and Sharon had just gotten engaged the week before and I didn’t want to take anything away from them. You were working a lot of late nights after that, and I thought it would be better to wait until things slowed down. You were so tired all the time, and you deserved a better proposal than when you’re falling asleep in the middle of dinner. It never slowed down, though. And then you got that big promotion and somehow we fell apart instead. If I’m honest, I still don’t really know how. One minute I’m getting ready to come with you, and the next you’re telling me not to bother.”

Tony sits down next to him, shoulders touching, and he pulls Bucky’s left hand into his. “You didn’t really want to go.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky says, but Tony shakes his head.

“All you talked about was how much you would miss New York. How much you’d miss your friends and your family and your job. Every day, everywhere we went. Even the fucking hot dog stands got sonnets about them. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out that you weren’t exactly looking forward to leaving.”

“I still would have gone for you,” Bucky argues. “I told you I would go anywhere with you, if it was what you wanted.”

“And then what? You move with me, and you’re miserable all the time, because my job never slows down so I’m still not around as much as you want, except now it’s compounded because you’re in a city that you hate with no one else that you know. You resent me for making you go, and the outcome is the same in the end either way.”

“Or I move with you, and I finally ask you to marry me like I’ve wanted to since almost the day we met. I find new friends and a new job, and even if it’s not perfect, it’s still worth it because at the end of the day I have a husband coming home to me.”

Tony runs his thumb over the ring and murmurs, “I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think I could do that for you anymore.”

Bucky cups his cheek, tilting his head up to meet his eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but baby, you’re an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tony laughs.

“You’re my idiot, if that helps.”

Tony smiles, still fragile but growing more hopeful. “Am I?”

“Always have been,” Bucky says. “Always will be if you stop assuming I’m going to leave you all the time. Let me decide for myself what I’m willing to sacrifice for us.”

Tony nods slowly, then says, “I’m sorry for ending it like that.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to.”

Tony climbs into his lap, circling his arms around his neck, and Bucky pulls him in closer with his hands on Tony’s hips. The ring is strange to feel against his skin, but also completely right. He wants it to stay there and to mean what it was always supposed to. Wants one of his own to match.

“We can fix it, right? We can be us again?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says, and Tony’s heart sinks for just a moment. “Is your boyfriend as real as my fiancé?”

Tony laughs again in relief, “Yeah, they’d be a good pair.”

“I knew you had to be lying. You’ve never taken it slow in your life,” Bucky grins.

“Do you want me to start now?”

Bucky flips them over in one fluid motion, and he kisses up his throat as he murmurs, “Absolutely not.”

#my writing #my fic #winteriron #buckytony #winteriron fic #prompt fill #ad1thi

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reyski · 3 years ago

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hi rey! i saw your requests are open and I have a kinda specific one- if you don't mind writing it of course, if you this somehow goes against your rules. but my ask is can your write a platonic kurapika x reader where kurapika is kind of like a big brother to the reader cause they share a lot of similarities (not personality wise more like their clan/family was also hunted cause they were considered valuable?) Thanks Rey :))

hello! this is such a cute idea, i decided to do small headcanons, i hope you like! also, apologies for not uploading very much right now <33

kurapika as an older brother

pairing: platonic! kurapika x reader

media: hunter x hunter

content warnings: angst maybe?

notes: i actually don’t have an older brother, but i tried my best to imagine what it would be like with kurapika

➵ kurapika, like the observationalist he is, noticed that you tended to steer away from sharing about your childhood or family. though, he had never suspected that your experiences were so similar.

➵ you hadn’t been expecting to tell anyone about your tragic history, but when you saw kurapika being engulfed by grief from the past you decided to share it with him.

➵ it doesn’t matter how much of your story you want to share with him, kurapika takes solace in whatever you disclose to him about your shared trauma. he doesn’t mind if you’re a bit closed off about the subject, and is very understanding of the grief that accompanies reliving the past. however, if you decide to go into detail kurapika is content in listening to you, reminding himself that there are others who share a similar pain.

➵ although he doesn’t notice it at first, kurapika begins to seek your company more often. beginning with offering his help with anything you might need, with him only a phone call away. if you do take him up on the offer he is pleased that he’s able to help you in some way. however, if you don’t put it past kurapika to just show up out of the blue (whenever he has the chance to get away from work of course).

➵ at times when he can’t see you for multiple weeks or months in a row you can expect at least a couple check-in calls, just to see what you’re doing and if you need anything.

➵ over time kurapika will open up more about the death of his clan, wanting to help you the same way that you helped him. after talking to you for the first time about his past, kurapika finds that speaking with someone he trusts, that shares similar experiences, is very therapeutic. just another reason that you might be getting impromptu visits or calls from him. though he always asks you before talking/venting about the past, making sure he’s not going to trigger you in any way.

➵ admittedly, kurapika is not the best at taking care of himself, but if you happen to fall into any kind of slump or depression kurapika takes as much time as he can afford to come stay with you. it might not be for very long and it might come at weird hours (depending on his work schedule) but he’s going to be there to remind you to brush your teeth and take a shower while he runs out to get some food.

➵ if you ever decide to return the favor of popping in on kurapika or taking care of him he’s a little taken back. he wont complain of course but you cant blame him for being a little skeptical of your motives, since he hasn’t had someone genuinely dote on him in so long cue crying. but once he realizes that you just want to make sure he’s doing ok he’s going to be thinking about it for a while, just being grateful for your care.

➵ kurapika is definitely the type to have a little hanging calendar that he writes special dates on. theres not a lot on it because he’s generally pretty good at keeping track of everything. however, he does make sure to put your birthday on it, along with all his other friends of course. kurapika’s very thoughtful but sometimes he decides just to ask you what you want, not wanting to give you something that you wont enjoy. even if he can’t be there to give your gift to you in person he’s definitely sending it in the mail with a handwritten card inside.

➵ kurapika ends up becoming pretty protective over you, as he does with all his friends, however, it seems a little different this time. he knows that you’re aware of the terrible parts of the world, and have been able to take care of yourself. at least he tries to tell himself that. but when he thinks of all the awful things that could happen to you the anxiousness takes over and he’s calling you every night to make sure your door’s locked.

➵ he’s thought about offering to give you a little instruction on how to defend yourself but he always feels like he’s overstepping your boundaries so he never brings it up.

➵ bonus: if you decide to get married and ask kurapika to walk you down the aisle or be the best man, warmth pools in his chest and he remembers how much he loves you.

thank you for the request!! this was really heartwarming

if you would like to request please take a look at my guidelines which outline the genres i write for each character. also, you can find all other works in my masterlists -- both guidelines and masterlists can be found on my directory!

have a good day/night loves <3 make sure to eat some food and drink some water ily

#kurapika #kurapika x reader #kurapika headcanons #hxh headcanons #hxh x reader

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c-optimistic · 4 years ago

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Great! I asked because if you didnt take prompts I wanted to be respectful of it, also okay if you dont feel like doing it or if you take your time, I admire and appreciate all your work. It's an angsty one😅 after the supergirl reveal, all the events and their drifting apart, Kara and Lena are rekindling their friendship, kara tells lena she's in love with her, lena confesses her feelings too but tells kara that after everything they cant be more than friends, angst here, then a happy ending 😁

“You’re my Lois,” she said softly, almost to herself.

(It had been on her mind for days and weeks and months now, words she was afraid to fully verbalize, thoughts and feelings she wasn’t sure she quite wanted to string into something coherent.

But now, in the silence, in their solitude, the words slipped out as easy as breathing, slipped out without her consent, her knowledge, her desire.)

Lena didn’t turn towards her, just wrapped her arms tighter around herself to stave off the chilly bite of the air. “I don’t know what that means,” she finally offered, voice terribly soft, eyes still focused on the city lights below them.

(National City was beautiful in the fall. Parks turned orange and yellow and red, pumpkins and cartoon turkeys and the strong scent of cinnamon could be found on every street corner. Jackets got dusted off and pulled on, scarves wound their way around people’s necks, the smell of hot chocolate seemed to permeate the air.

And Lena looked at home in the fall. Her hair was down more often than not, gentle curls framing her face. She was wrapped in soft sweaters and warm colors, looking gentler, calmer, more at ease.

And she was, in every way, Kara’s Lois.) “It’s...I—well.” Explaining was harder than she thought. Giving meaning to what she said was harder than she expected. “You’re the one I’d spin the world the opposite direction for, you know?” “Don’t be ridiculous, Kara,” Lena scoffed, turning away from the city and meeting Kara’s eyes briefly before walking through the sliding glass doors and back into her apartment. Kara followed sullenly behind. “What good would that even do?” “Turns back time,” Kara joked softly, watching Lena pour herself a glass of wine. Once maybe, days and weeks and months ago, she would have offered Kara a glass as well. Now she just set the bottle aside and sipped slowly, as if daring Kara to comment. “Why would you want to turn back time for me? And what does this have to do with Lois?” She seemed genuinely confused, and Kara realized she needed to be more direct.

(In and of itself, it was a scary thought. She didn’t want to confess her feelings and be rebuffed. She didn’t want to tell the truth and leave herself open to...what, pain? A lack of reciprocation? Laughter at her expense?

And yet, and yet...Lena was her Lois, and she was worth it all the same.)

“What I’m trying to say,” Kara tried again, biting on her lip as she attempted to find the right words, beginning to think there were only three, not quite sure how to gather the courage to say them. “Remember Mon-El?” she said, switching tactics.

“Vaguely,” Lena responded, amused. She walked over to her kitchen, pulled out a kettle, a mug, and a packet of hot chocolate mix (an item she only kept at her place because she knew about Kara’s preference for it over tea). “What about him?” she asked as she put the water to boil, raising her eyebrow and looking at Kara expectantly.

“When I sent him away, chose to save everyone over keeping him, Clark told me he could never do that,” Kara explained, that moment etched into her memory, inescapable and dare she say profound in the absence of feeling. “He said if it came down to keeping Lois or the world...well, he wouldn’t know what to do.”

Lena looked down, focusing on pouring the boiling water into the mug and adding the hot cocoa mix, stirring it in slowly. “Oh,” she whispered finally, pushing the mug towards Kara, “that’s what you mean about my being your Lois.”

“Lena, I—”

“—to be honest, though,” Lena interrupted, frowning, “I don’t think you have a Lois.”

(Well, if anything could make those three words Kara wanted to say shrink back into their shell, it was that.

And for it to be said so casually, so abruptly, so utterly convincingly, as though there wasn’t any doubt in Lena’s mind. Well. That more than hurt, that felt vaguely offensive.)

“That’s so—”

“—you’re too,” Lena waved her hands, struggling with finding a word, “honorable,” she finally settled on. “You believe in duty, in sacrifice, in putting everyone before you.” She smiled, looking inexplicably proud, and picked up her wine glass, taking a small sip. “You’re too selfless. If it came down to it, Kara, you’d break your own heart a thousand times over for the world.”

Kara blinked, wondering how Lena misinterpreted her. “No, Lena, I’m saying—”

“—no, I know,” Lena interrupted, setting her wine aside and walking over to stand in front of Kara, so close that Kara could practically smell the alcohol on Lena’s breath. Rather than meet Lena’s eyes, Kara kept her gaze on the ceiling. “And I love you, too. But we’re not Clark and Lois.”

(And oh, Lena got it. She got it and she was braver than Kara, laying the words out there, giving the feelings between them a name, finally, finally, calling it what it was.

Love. She loved Lena.)

“I don’t pull off the suit as well as he does, I know,” Kara joked sadly, eyes still on the ceiling, knowing where Lena was going with this.

(It was too soon. It was too much. It was too hard.)

“Kara,” Lena admonished, forcing Kara to meet her gaze. Kara’s vision was a little blurred, so she wasn’t quite sure if those were tears in Lena’s eyes or if her allergies were just working up again. “We can’t,” Lena told her, voice trembling.

“Right. No. Of course.”

“Kara, after everything, being friends is hard enough, do you really—”

“—I said I got it,” Kara interrupted, blinking, horrified when her vision cleared and she felt something wet roll down her cheeks. She was crying. Crying. How utterly embarrassing.

(She looked away again, unwilling to see pity in Lena’s expression, unwilling to confirm for herself that what was welling up in Lena’s eyes was indeed allergies.

She looked away again, because she was willing to break her heart a thousand times over for the world, but she didn’t know how to cope with her breaking heart now.)

“I’m just.” She stopped, heaved a breath, and nodded curtly. “Just friends sounds good. But I’m going to go now.” She stepped back from Lena, practically power-walked towards the balcony door, stopping only when she felt something tug on her cape.

“Kara,” Lena began, but Kara didn’t turn. Couldn’t turn. Whatever courage Lena had been on when she’d managed to say the words Kara couldn’t seemed to fade, however, and she released her grip on Kara’s cape and pulled back. “You pull the suit off way better than him, don’t sell yourself short.”

(It wasn’t what Lena wanted to say, Kara didn’t need the uptick of Lena’s heartbeat or the soft, regretful sigh she released a moment after the words escaped her lips.

It wasn’t what Lena wanted to say, but it was what she did say, and Kara managed nothing more than a strangled laugh in response, taking off into the night and leaving Lena and a mug of hot chocolate untouched behind her.)

xxx

The next time she saw Lena was at game night.

(This was not for a lack of trying on Lena’s part. She’d invited Kara to lunch, to coffee, to a variety of science-related events—even Lena’s TED Talk—but Kara had declined them all, citing work or Supergirl-catastrophes.

Finally, Lena had sent a text reading just hmph, and Kara had spent the rest of the afternoon asking Nia if it was a good or bad hmph.)

Game night, however, Kara couldn’t avoid. Namely, because it was at her own apartment. She had managed to avoid directly inviting Lena, resorting instead to a group chat message, something that had Nia shaking her head and muttering “children.”

(And rationally, Kara knew better. She knew that she was supposed to be a better friend, that they were working on repairing their tattered and bruised friendship, that they needed to reestablish all those lines of communication and trust that had been burned to the ground.

She knew, but she struggled. She struggled with the thought of looking at Lena and not thinking about how much she loved her, not thinking that Lena felt the same way, not thinking that had she been better—a better friend, a more honest friend, a kinder friend—then there would have been nothing in the way of her reaching out to take Lena by the hand, tug her forward, chase her lip, and—

Well. All those were things she was determinedly not trying to think of.)

She was a bit of a mess by the time Lena arrived, looking as beautiful and breathtaking as ever, a bag of takeout in her hand, an unsure smile on her lips.

“Are you sure?” Lena whispered, not entering Kara’s apartment. “If this is too much—”

“—I want you here,” Kara cut in, not really embarrassed by how desperate she sounded. Because now that she was looking at Lena, she forgot why she had wanted to maintain distance in the first place. Self-preservation no longer seemed very important to her. “I always want you with me.”

“As a friend,” Lena added, cheeks flushed, suddenly very interested in her shoes, her heart pounding away, teeth digging into her bottom lip.

Kara wasn’t sure what it all meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. So instead, she responded with the honesty she should’ve afforded Lena sooner—the honesty her best friend was owed. “In any capacity you’ll have me,” she said.

Lena didn’t respond, but as she walked by to enter Kara’s apartment, the fingers of her free hand ran over the inside of Kara’s hand, barely brushing over Kara’s palm, really, and it was like an electric shock, leaving Kara paralyzed to the spot until Alex took pity on her and unrooted her—physically dragging her over to the food and games.

(And the entire night, as Kara flexed the hand Lena touched repeatedly, she noticed that every time she looked over at Lena, Lena was already looking at her.

And the entire night, as Nia muttered “children” under her breath, Kara began to hope.)

xxx

As the weeks dragged on and Lena showed no signs of wanting anything to evolve between them, much of that hope evaporated. She was only holding onto the last tendrils when she had to show up at L-Corp (again) to stop some madman’s mad henchmen from trying to kill Lena (again).

When the men were appropriately stopped and detained, Kara found herself on the balcony with Lena (again), staring out at the city (this too, again). Lena wasn’t drinking anything, and she wasn’t dressed in her soft sweaters. Instead, she was wearing a navy suit, hair pulled tightly back, hands in her pockets as she leaned against the balustrade, eyes on Kara.

“You took awhile to get here,” Lena finally said, and Kara turned to her, a little offended.

“There was a fire, Lena. I had to make sure it was out before—”

“—but I thought I was your Lois?” she interrupted, with more than a little snark. Kara straightened, standing at her full height as she approached Lena.

“First of all, low blow. Secondly, you said it yourself, I don’t have a Lois. Maybe you need to find a less honorable friend,” Kara told her, eyes narrowed.

Lena didn’t look sorry. If anything, she seemed...content. “I’ve been thinking about it, you know?” She tugged her hands out of her pockets, and Kara thought her heart slammed to a halt when Lena reached out and placed her hands on Kara’s shoulders, drawing her in. “I think the truth is,” she continued, hands sliding across Kara’s shoulders, interlocking behind Kara’s neck, “you’re my Lois. Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you, even give up a chance at something more, something I really want, because I was scared it wouldn’t work and I’d lose you completely.”

“Something you really want, huh?” Kara said, her heart jumpstarting at the feeling of Lena’s fingers against her neck, at the way Lena’s thumbs rubbed gently against the base of her skull, at the way Lena leaned up, pressing their foreheads together. “Are you still scared?”

“Terrified,” Lena breathed. “But I figure I could be a little more like you, potential heartbreak and all.”

Kara tried to nod, managing nothing more than gently head-butting Lena and making her laugh. “We probably need to figure out a better way to describe how we feel about each other, I think my cousin and Lois may get concerned—”

“—Kara?” Lena interrupted, pulling away just a bit.

“Yeah?”

“We can definitely talk about this if you want. Or you could just kiss me. Whichever you prefer.”

(In the end, it was an easy choice.

And judging from the way Lena sighed into her mouth, she felt the same way.)

#supercorp #fanfic #it's not exactly what you wanted #less angst #but I hope you like it!

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noforkingclue · 3 years ago

Note

hihi if youre comfy with zemo and a trans masc reader that cant go on t n shit because hes Fucking Poor that would be jhjwhkj <3 if not i get it, dont feel bad or something :] i hope your arm gets better

Thank you anon, my arm is a lot better now!

I have no problem writing this at all! The first thing I want people to remember is that my blog is a safe space for everyone and I really hope that you like the fic!

Title: Affordability

MCU tag list: @geocookie21

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

You looked at your bills and groaned, flopped back on your sofa. You just had to be living in one of the most expensive cities in the world with a badly paying job. You needed to pay rent on top of bills and there was no way you could afford anything else. You groaned as you grabbed a cushion and pressed it against your face as you let out a muffled scream into it.

“There are more effective ways of smothering yourself.”

You immediately pulled the cushion away and glared at your unexpected house guest. You weren’t expecting Bucky and Sam to arrive on your doorstep the other day and ask you to look after one of the most wanted criminals in the world. You didn’t particularly fancy getting on the bad side of the Dora Milaje but you owed Sam a favour and in this case that favour was hiding Zemo. He smirked at you as he walked towards you and leant against the back on your sofa. You had mostly avoided him over the past couple of days but now you had no choice but to deal with him.

“What do you want?” you asked

“Just to talk.”

“What about?”

You watched him suspiciously as he walked around to the front of the sofa. The suddenly, and before you had time to react, he snatched your finance sheet off the floor. He darted out of the way as you tried to get it back.

“That’s private,” you said, “Give it to me.”

“Very few things are every truly private,” he said, “I could easily find out all of this within half an hour if I had access to your laptop. This just saves time.”

You gritted your teeth as you stood up but Zemo remained unaffected by your outburst. You flushed angrily as he read through the list, his amused expression changing to one of mild concern.

“Don’t say anything,” you said quickly as he looked back up at you, “I don’t need your pity.”

“Does Sam and James know?”

“Of course not,” you said, “But they have more important things to worry about than me.”

“You really think yourself unimportant?”

You shrugged before sitting back done. Zemo hesitated for a brief moment before walking closer, although he didn’t sit down. You put your head in your hands and said,

“Is hard, y’know, realising that the people who have control over the testosterone doesn’t want me to be who I really am. How I have to choose what I can afford each month, whether it’s food or bills or rent or my testosterone. I’m tired of hiding who I am and being allowed to fully transition because I’m poor and I have other choices I need to make.”

You rubbed your eyes, angry that they were now filled with tears. You hated that you had become so weak in front of the man who could use it against you. You vaguely registered the sofa dipping next to you but you jumped when you felt a warm hand appear on your shoulder. You looked at Zemo in confusion as he said,

“I can afford this.”

“What?”

“I can pay,” he waved your sheet at you, “You don’t have worry about this.”

“Why would you?”

“Can’t I?”

“It’s just…” you trailed off before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I was an Avenger. I thought you hated us.”

“It wasn’t anything personal against you.”

“Is this your way of trying to make up for your actions.”

He shrugged but didn’t deny it.

“And what do you want in return?” you asked, “You’re not the type of person who would just drop thousands on just one person.”

Zemo studied you for a moment before slowly leaning closer. You tried to move away but you found your escape blocked by the arm rest. Zemo put his arm up, caging you against his body and the sofa.

“You’re a very handsome man,” he said at last, “Maybe I just want to see you smile at me.”

He raised his other hand and brushed his thumb against your lips. You were frozen top the spot and his gaze dropped to your lips before he slowly return to look at you. He held your stare for what felt like an eternity before smiling and moving away. You immediately felt sad at the loss of contact with him but as he winked at you and left the room you had a feeling that what just happened was only going to be the beginning.

#fanfiction #mcu #fatws #reader insert #request #zemo #zemo x reader

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anythingandeverything1d · 5 years ago

Text

I’m having your baby..

Part 1: Congratulations

---

Harry’s name and photo popped up on your screen as he called. “Harry?” you answered anxiously.

“Hey, uh do you have a minute?”

You walked into the kitchen looking for an excuse. You just weren't ready to have this talk yet. “Uhmm actually I was just about to-”

“(y/n) seriously we need to talk.” Harry sounded annoyed and you didn't like that. Normally on the phone with you he was happy and cheeky, telling jokes, and asking a million questions. This conversation just seemed so dry, so unlike him. It seemed like he was scolding you almost.

“I guess I have a minute...” you mumbled sitting on the barstool in the kitchen. “What seems to be the problem Harold?” you gave the attitude right back, not in the mood for one of his mood swings.

“Well I was thinking maybe we should talk about the things I’m currently being tagged in online. The articles about you. Specifically about you being pregnant. Don’t you think thats something we might need to discuss?”

You were twirling your hair through your fingers anxiously and wondered if he was doing the same...even though he sounded more mad than anxious. “I mean I don't know is it? If anyones pregnant, not saying I am or anything, but it's me and not you who's actually affected so what's the big deal? You can still go off and live your life, touring the world, singing, writing albums in complete isolation, and then hooking up with random girls you meet at the bar. Living your best rock star life Harry. You know what? I have a question for you. Why do these things, these articles, these tweets, and stories about me bother you now. It's been weeks, you haven't even called or texted. You probably haven't thought about me either. Actually, haven't you moved on by now? Isn’t it that time where you find someone new, someone better, someone more fit in managements eyes, someone your fans will approve of?” You bit down on your lip while holding back tears. This is not where you wanted this to go but here it was. There was no going back now. Harry had opened a door he probably hadn't meant to.

Harry sighed into the phone and cleared his throat before speaking again. “All I want to know is if you're pregnant and if the baby is mine. That’s it. It’s an easy and quick answer (y/n).”

“Fuck you Harry.” He was pissing you off now. He was acting like nothing mattered and like getting pregnant was your fault. “I am pregnant with your baby but guess what it’s none of your damn business.” you hung up and dropped the phone on the counter, tears rushing down your cheeks. Why did he have to be like that? Didn’t he think that this was hard on you too? Didn’t he understand that you were panicking. Panicking about having a baby, growing a baby inside you, caring for the baby alone, telling people that you were about to become a single parent, affording everything the baby would need. The list continued to grow things that just would not work out. Your hands drifted to your lower stomach to where the baby was growing. Something about it comforted you at the same time. It made you feel less alone, less like Harry had left, and more like a part of him was still with you and for now, that was enough to remind you that a baby is a blessing no matter the situation. You would figure the rest out eventually.. it’ll all work out...just give it time. These are the thoughts rushing through your head as the tears stopped. You were not about to let Harry destroy this moment for you. You walked upstairs and into the guest bedroom where you laid out the onesie and binkie on the bed. “This is going to be your room little one...I’ll make sure its perfect by the time you get here. I promise.”

After calming down a little you went to bed and pretty much stayed there until noon which is when you called Luke and asked him to come over. You wanted to talk things over with a rational voice, and well he was the only one other than Harry that knew you were pregnant. His noisy truck pulled up to your driveway and he ran inside trying to avoid the rain. “Hey you.” he said setting a large bag of food on the counter. “I grabbed some Chinese food, figured you might be hungry.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, I don't think I’ve actually eaten anything all day.”

“Well thats not going to help you grow a baby...” he was digging into a box of rice, attempting to use his chop sticks.

“I guess you're right...I should probably look into what diet changes I’ll need to go through.”

“Isn't getting pregnant like an excuse to eat whatever you want whenever you want?”

“I mean kind of but no” you laughed and grabbed some chicken from one of the containers. “I’ll still have to watch what I’m eating so I don't get diabetes or get fat...I don't want to look terrible once the baby is here...I’m already getting all the hate for being pregnant let alone for being fat afterwards.”

Luke shook his head, dropping the chopsticks and using the fork. “Babies naturally cause you to gain weight, thats nothing to be ashamed of. Plus, I read some of those articles and I wouldn't say its hate. Most people are excited for you. And for Harry. I’m guessing he knows now?”

You nodded and dropped your head to the counter. “He knows. Doesn’t change anything though does it? He’s still not here, we are still not together, and he's still on tour doing whatever he wants.” Luke rubbed your shoulder and you looked up, more tears in your eyes as you thought about the situation again. You started crying and Luke squeezed your shoulder. You looked up at him sobs now echoing through your chest. “I just-I just miss him so much. I-I’m all alone too.”

“I know (y/n)...I know.” Luke wiped the tears and smiled. “It’ll get easier. I promise. I mean its only been a few weeks and I’m sure the baby thing makes you think about him a little more but you know what? If he’s not here to see this baby grow, be born, and live, then that’s on him. Youre going to be an amazing mother and Harry’s involvement or noninvolvement won't change that. And you are NOT alone. I’m right here with you, and I’ll be at every doctors appointment, meeting, birthing class, whatever you need me for. I’ll be there.” You smiled and Luke looked relieved.

“I love you.”

“I love you too (y/n).” He hugged you tightly and you returned the favor, your chin resting on his shoulder. “Now, are you ready to down some of this food and watch a movie?”

You nodded and ate another piece of chicken. Luke returned to his chopsticks and the two of you ate pretty much everything. You stood up laughing and lifting your shirt. “I guess I have an excuse for looking a little chubby after eating far too much. My food baby is an actual baby too.”

Luke laughed and shook his head, “You never look chubby though.”

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the living room. The two of you cuddled up on the couch and under loads of blankets. You decided to watch The Parent Trap, something you both hadn't seen in a while, but you quickly fell asleep, exhausted from everything that day. You snuggled into Luke and he tightened his grip on you. The next thing you know, someone is pounding on your door. Luke who had also fallen asleep sat up confused. “Are you expecting anyone?” You rubbed your eyes shaking your head no. He stood up and walked to the door, opening it a bit to look out. You glanced at the clock, it was almost 3 am, why was anyone at your door. “I don't think this is a good time..” you heard Luke harshly whisper. You stood up and walked over to the door. Your heart sped up, your stomach did flips, and your mouth dropped open. Harry was standing on your doorstep, dripping wet, and shivering.

“Harry?”

“Of course you're here with him.” he shook his head and turned around.

“Yeah he’s my friend, why wouldn't I hang out with him?” you snapped back following him outside. The rain was pouring, instantly soaking your clothes. The wind blowing was freezing your skin but you were mad now. “When has me and Luke hanging out ever been a problem? I’ve known him since I was 10, he's my best friend, he's- he's like my brother.” Harry had stopped and was watching you. His lip was between his teeth and his hair covering his eyes from being so wet. You glanced behind you and Luke had gone back inside, giving you the privacy you knew you needed. “Why are you here Harry? It’s super late, its wet, and its cold and-”

He ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back so he could look at you better. “Why do you think I’m here?” You crossed your arms across your stomach and frowned. Harry sighed and stepped closer. “Theres no way in hell that you carrying my baby isn't my business. How could you even think that? How could you even think I wouldn't be here for everything, for the appointments and well whatever else you need. I know it wasn't our plan and I know we are going through something but I want to be here. For you and for the baby.”

You had tears in your eyes but thankfully the rain was washing them away. You nodded and looked down. “Harry-”

“(y/n) please...let me be there-here let me help. It’s my baby too.” He stepped closer and moved your hands away from your stomach. He got down on his knees, gently touched your belly and wiped his nose. He was crying too. Normally people crying made you uncomfortable and nervous, but Harry crying was one of the saddest things ever. He looked like a sad angel and that hurt you more than anyone would know. You instinctively reached out and touched his hair, wiping it away and wrapping your fingers in the curls. Harry looked up and smiled. “I cant believe it...theres a little baby in there. Its 50% you and 50% me..thats so crazy.”

You smiled and nodded, you had thought the same thing earlier today. “I uh- I have a picture. A picture of the baby. It’s inside if you want to maybe see it..” Harry looked surprised but extremely happy. He nodded and you led him back inside to the kitchen. Luke was sitting at the table drinking a cup of tea confused by the fact that Harry was in your house. “It’s right here..” you showed him the black and white image magneted to the fridge.

“Its so tiny.” Harry looked in amazement and smiled. Luke was in the background mocking Harry and so you shot him a look. “Thats like our baby.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into a tight hug. Your nose burying in his soaking wet t-shirt. You wrapped your hands around him and smiled. It was okay to give in every now and then right? Might as well enjoy while its here? Harry wiped his nose again and you stepped back with a smile.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your hand lingering next to his.

“Yeah its just a lot to take in..like the fact that I am going to be a dad..it’s just crazy.” Luke snorted and Harry looked over at him annoyed.

“I understand the feeling.” you touched his hand and his eyes shot back to yours with a small smile.

“I’m sorry I wasnt there for you yesterday...I should've known..I should've-”

“Harry...”

“This is insane.” Luke walked over annoyed. “(y/n) what are you doing? What happened to the ‘Im a strong independent woman I don't need him’ vibe?”

Harry shot Luke a glance to which Luke responded. “I am strong and I don't need him...” Harry looked upset, hurt flashing through his eyes. You continued on, “I don't need him but I want him here...I want him to be there for the baby..”

Harry smirked and nodded. “I want to be there. For the baby and for you. I promise...I’ll be there for everything if you want me to be...I just want to get to see the baby grow and become like an actual baby. Just tell me what to do. Tell me I can be a part of this with you..”

You smiled and hugged him. “Of course I want you to be a part of everything. This is your baby too.”

Luke stood up frustrated and gave you a look. You stepped out of Harry’s arms and towards Luke. He shook his head and laughed. “I’m gonna go. I’l talk to you later (y/n).”

“Luke-”

“Not now.” Luke grabbed his jacket and then walked out, leaving you and Harry alone for the first time in weeks.

Harry sat down with a pleased expression on his face and you frowned. You don't know why Luke was acting like that. You didn't even know what caused the fight but for some reason it really really upset you. Tears fell down your cheeks again and Harry looked concerned. He walked over and pulled you into his chest, “What’s wrong love?”

“I just don't know why Luke is acting like that. Like why is he mad at me? I didn't do anything.”

Harry wiped a tear and smiled, “it’s not you...he just has to figure things out and come to terms with the fact that I’m here and I’m staying. It’ll be okay.”

“Promise you won't leave me?”

“Promise. I’m here for good- well for the next 18 years anyways.”

“You better be.” you yawned. It was now almost 4:30 am and you were falling asleep.

“I will be” Harry whispered. “Come on, lets get you into bed.” Harry helped you upstairs and pulled back the covers. You changed into some dry clothes and walked over and climbed in. Just the way you liked, Harry tucked you in.

You yawned again and he smiled, moving the hair that had fallen to your eyes. “I’ll uh-I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Harry, wait.” You looked over at him again. “Change into something dry and get in..please? I just sleep better well not alone..” Harry nodded and dropped his wet clothes to a pile on the floor. He rummaged through your closet, finding the one thing Harry had left- by accident by the way. It was just a t-shirt but he smiled and threw it on, climbing into his side of the bed. You rolled over and smiled, trying to keep your eyes open. “Thank you for staying.”

He kissed your forehead and smiled. “Anytime love..” Your eyes closed and Harry scooted in closer, rubbing your arms slowly with his fingers. It was easy to say, you had the best night of sleep you had since Harry had left the first time. His scent, his touch, everything. It just made you sleep so much better and for that you were insanely grateful for that reason- and of course the fact he wanted to be part of the babies life.

---

Part two, let me know what you think!

Part 3: Plum Sized

#one direction imagines #one direction #directioners #one direction fanfiction #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #pregnant

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aradias-crypt · 5 years ago

Text

BH with a hero s/o headcanons

He would try killing you at first

Surely this one was obvious, no one is disillusioned enough to believe the source of all evil in the world would not attempt to off all heroes he sees.

And as a hero, it would be your ultimate goal to free the people from the dangers of villains, especially Black Hat. While you normally patrol your designated city, there has been the occasional meeting with Black Hat himself (usually when he is out collecting debts or working with contemporaries).

“If it isn’t my favorite little nuisance,” Black Hat grins, waving away his subordinates. He didn't need them for this. “Did my last attack teach you nothing? I may enjoy this little game of ours but I will not hold back any one.”

You land on the ground softly, “Should I take that as a compliment?”

“Of course, it is an honor for any human scum to be acknowledged by me.” He steps to the side, blocking your path as his soldiers enter the building behind him.

“What are you up to?”

“I would go on about my magnificent plans but that would be quite silly of me, don’t you think?”

“It would make my life so much easier.” Crystals grow from your arms, forming a shield and sword.

He smirks, shadows spilling from his body.

“But I enjoy w̴̘̲̻͈̌̀́͗͑̂̇͝at̸̢̟͓̗͓̥͈̮̼̃̄̔̄̊c̷͔̪̺̘͓̪͙͈̅͐̀̀͛͗̋̓̊̎͠h̸̡̟̞̖͍̲͊̋̀in̵͈͖͇̜̱̮̑̋̍͂͂̚g̷̮͐ ̵̧̧̧͈͍̜̫̜̬̫̮̮̔͝ỹ̵͕̗̤̍̍̊ő̷̡͕̻͙̤̤̮̣̉̂̂̂́͜ͅù̸̠̟̐͌͒̈́̊̍͆̑͊̚̕͜��̳̩̠̫̗̼̩͇ ̵̼̲̗͓̖̒́s̵̨̢̼̟̼̬̳͇͍̩̙̓̅͒̏͌̓͂͆͜ư̷̪̞̟͖̓̒̂͂͊̓̔̇̀͜f̷̡̺̦̭̺̩͎̤̯̣̝̫̄͐̋f̶̛̫̗̺̟͖̓̉̀̋̓͆̕e̶̛̺̻̫̫̩̱̺͕͎̲͍̺͋̌͗̎̑̊͊́̃r̸̰͓̳̹͈̹̖͌̒̋̑͒͘~̵͎̯̳̓̆!̴̦̹͔̖̞̠̱̘̪̿̓͝”

He would protect you from other villains

It isn’t because he *shudders* likes you, but because you are the only hero who can amuse him. If another villain were to kill you, not only would you shame him for dying at such a lower villains hands and not his own, but because he would be bored.

You brace yourself for impact, forming a thick shell of diamond around you as the villain on the outside blasts you with gamma rays. You herded the civilians in the area far away, propping up lead walls to try and shield them from the radiation, but it left you with little energy and proper material to protect yourself.

‘They’re safe,’ you think to yourself, ‘That’s what matters.’

Slowly, you begin to feel nauseating waves pierce through your barrier.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to the the damage that will soon be done to your body.

‘This is it.’

“I’m starting to believe you truly have a death wish little hero.” A gravelly voice rasps from outside.

You look up, eyes wide as the light shining through disappears for a moment.

The villain screams, their attack ending abruptly.

You wait in silence.

The light slowly shines through again, but a shadow approaches from the outside. The outline of a hand reaches out and raps on your barrier.

“You can come out now,” Black Hat chuckles, his voice full of arrogance, “I took care of that pathetic trash. You’ve nothing to fear out here but me.”

Slowly, you would stop fighting

Eventually, you would get used to each other, no longer fighting like before. Meeting in public, you’d bicker more than swap fists. It would come to the point where other heroes would fight with his lackeys while you two debate whether the import taxes and tariffs war is good for anyone. Though Black Hat is rather relaxed seeing as how he isn’t “required” to pay them.

“I don’t understand how you can be so calm about this,” you blow on your cup of hot chocolate as you walk beside the ageless being, “you’re a businessman, this would cut your profits if people don’t pay for your goods right?”

He places a hand on his chest, “A being like me is exempt from such mortal affairs little one; I don’t need to hand over my money to anyone.” He hisses at the children gawking at him, his eye flashing red.

You shake your head, sipping your drink slowly. “You know, I forget you’re like this sometimes.”

“Powerful, awe inspiring, nightmare inducing?” He grins.

“Petty.”

You wouldn’t officially end your rival status

Black Hat is the paragon of evil and the standard all villains should strive towards almost being, it would not look good for him to be so... civil with a hero. The same thing goes for you, you may be used to him and a bit.. fond of him, but you couldn’t leave the League of Heroes! You were one of their top heroes! And you still were drawn to justice, no matter how much you enjoyed Black Hats satirical humor and general company, you didn’t believe villains were right.

This was something you two could agree on. Neither of you could afford to ruin your public appearance.

A secret relationship

Not that either of you ever made it “official” or anything, but you both agree to keeping your public and private lives separate. On the outside, you both would resume your fights and do your own things, but away from the public you could act however you wanted. This leads t the more domestic side of your “courting”.

Visiting your home

After a faux battle leaving you with a stinging gash, you decide to finally show bring your.. partner? Friend? Beau?? to your home.

“Its smaller than I expected.” Black Hat surveys the room around him, lifting up a bottle of mineral water from your table, “Do they not pay their heroes enough?”

You snatch the bottle from him, and swap it for a bottle of disinfectant, “They aren’t cheap like you. I just prefer something cozier.” You stick your tongue at him before drinking. The water soothes the building fever in your body and eases some of the aches and soreness you received from getting smacked around by him.

He clicks his tongue in distaste, “I could heal you ten times faster than mortal medicine.”

“You don’t seem like the healer type. And definitely not for free.” You walk to your bathroom and pull out your medical kit, taking out a roll of gauze, needle and wire. Turning around, you bump into Black Hat who steals the needle from your hand.

“You won’t be needing any of that,” he snaps his fingers, causing the items in your arms to disappear. “Except this.” He holds the needle in his mouth like a toothpick,”I will heal you in exchange for dinner. A good bargain considering the wasted use of my talent.”

You smile, “I’ll cook, as long as the hole in my arm doesn’t grow teeth due to your healing.”

He smirks and stalks down the hall to the kitchen, “That’s not a bad idea, I quite like it.”

You follow after him, “Do it and the first thing it eats is that car of yours.”

“I have plenty to spare.”

Visiting the manor

It doesn’t take much to convince Black Hat into taking you to the manor. Ever the show off, Black Hat makes sure the house is in its top condition before bringing you along with him. Seeing how Hat Island is stock full of villains and is home of Black Hat himself, no hero has ever gotten close to the island and come out unscathed. Until you.

This means you are wholly unprepared for the sight awaiting you.

“This sums you up pretty well.” You stifle a laugh. Before you is the home of evil incarnate. The lair of the monster children are told of at night. The domain of something so evil, he could destroy the planet and dust himself off as if nothing ever happened.

That entity’s home. Is a hat.

He sweeps you inside,”Of course, everything I own must have my stamp of approval.”

“Is the airplane also your stamp of approval?”

He grumbles,”Ignore that.”

- - -

“Your home feels a bit more like a museum and you the curator, but I admit it is very interesting.” You sit at his desk, admiring the artifacts lining the walls. You were especially interested in a piece of what seemed to be a spear.

Noticing your gaze Black Hat chuckles, “I take pieces of history, much of what you see now is because of me.”

“Including the plague?”

A sigh, “Good times.”

The rest of your time is full of questions and his retelling of history (though you take the stories of heroes with a grain of salt).

Final piece to the puzzle

There is no sound of wedding bells- and you highly doubt you could convince him to enter a Church or going to the government for that- so the two of you never truly get “married”. But along the way of your partnership, you both begin to realize that you are very, very fragile. So Black Hat creates a solution. No need to thank him~.

You lift a brow at the small box Black Hat has slid across his desk to you. Picking it up, you pause before opening it.

“Is this another shrunken head because I still haven’t gotten over the last one you gave me.”

He doesn’t look up from his newspaper, “Open it.”

“If something springs out I’m not making dinner.” You open the box.

A signet ring lay inside with the black hat symbol on the top.

“I..assume there is a reason behind this?” You take the ring out, twirling it between your fingers.

He folds his paper and approaches you. You look at him quizzically as he grasps your hand and holds the ring up for you to see.

“This, my little mortal, will keep you from harm.”

He slips the band onto your finger and pats your head, “I cant have you dying on me just yet.”

You lean forward on your palm, “With you here, what could hurt me?”

He leans in with a wicked, vulgar grin and eyes ablaze with want.

“Me.”

#black hat #blackhat #villainos #villainous #black hat x reader #blackhat x reader #headcanon #villainous headcanons

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sabraeal · 4 years ago

Text

All That Remains, Chapter 5: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Written for @claudeng80‘s birthday, and only....a few weeks late! Had this thing not become a BEAST it would have arrived on time but...who doesn’t want a 9K birthday gift?

Perhaps it is lies that make men human.

Ah, you shake your head-- surely not, for man is more than vice, more than our venal sins--

But it is stories that bind us, is it not? Tales that start as words between friends, that then are pulled as taffy in the teeth of those that tell them, that become exaggerated, distended in their telling.

If at the kernel of every story is a truth, then it is one that is surrounded by lies.

Or perhaps that is only what liars tell themselves when they must live with what they’ve done.

Why would you leave Wistal for Lilias?

It was the first question any of them asked-- unless her reputation had preceded her, and then the conversation would shift sharply to Garack and her apprenticeship, to whether all the rumors they had heard about Wistal’s Head Pharmacist were true.

(They had only been disappointed when she didn’t know; she’d hardly been there a year, and though she’d studied closely under her, Garack hadn’t seen fit set aside a lesson to rifle through the rumor mill’s latest)

It’s cold here, Suzu had reminded her that first trip, as if she could forget with how both her heaviest cloak and double stockings that still could not keep out the chill. At least then she’d had a mission she could speak of, an excuse she could throw up a shield against more unwanted questions. After all, all of them abhorred missing data.

It had been harder the second time, when the whole of this golden opportunity had seemed stained with Izana’s touch, had seemed tainted by his test. She’d been lucky those first few days; they’d been less interested in her answer, and more interested in issuing their dire warnings. It gets colder than this, Kazaha had told her, puffed up with his own importance, colder than you’ve ever known.

Then Obi had arrived, coming in with the snow, as he’d told everyone that would listen, and well-- as interesting as Garack Gazalt’s red head assistant was, her mysterious attendant was even more so. At least, for a while, and then they were just another part of Lilias, another pair of heads over a sea of furs.

Still, you must miss it, Yuzuri would say, wistful, it’s so warm there.

I miss the mornings, she had said once, tucked between her and Ryuu at the commissary. Birds would sing me awake.

Too early, Obi had scoffed, wrinkling his nose. They see the sun and go crazy.

Just early enough. The corner of her mouth curved as she met his grin. You just get to bed too late.

Talk to my mistress about that. It’s too much to look at him sometimes when he teases like that, when he pretends it isn’t her that he’s talking about. She’s the one who likes to burn candles at both ends.

Stories are apt to praise the little girls who walk them as kind, as obedient, perhaps even clever should they outwit a sufficiently evil witch or an especially corrupt king. But this little girl-- kind as she was, clever as she was-- was dogged, was stubborn.

Ah, how rare such a thing is, at least in stories. It is a detail to be left out in the telling, to be lost to the years, to be replaced with a kindly figure that gives her wisdom, but now--

Now the tale is fresh, heavy with the truth, and you may know: even with assurances from the adults around her, the little girl did not take the boy’s disappearance lying down, oh no.

She would not suffer losing her home.

Even though it is the birds that wake her, it does nothing for the bleak knot in her belly, only grown tighter as she’s slept. Or rather, as she didn’t; her mattress may be feathers and her sheets may be silk, but neither were any help as she lay there, finding faces in her canopy.

Still, the morning will not wait, not even for a princess. Her hours are full, from sunrise to moonrise, and on most nights, beyond. If she means to keep pace with her promises, she has to start early.

A woman of proper standing would have a maid to dress her-- no, a woman meant to be Zen’s wife would have a team of them to do her entire toilette, but Shirayuki has only herself. A pharmacist’s purse was nothing to sneeze at, but it didn’t pay the way an estate would, and even if she could afford the expense--

Well, Kiki dressed herself. There was no reason she couldn’t either, not when she was already in the practice of it.

“I’m not wearing court dress,” Kiki reminds her, mouth canted kindly, when she sees the state of her morning gown, hook and eyes flapping open like a wound down her back. “They aren’t meant to be put on alone.”

“That’s what Haruka said, too,” Shirayuki murmurs, hands braced on her vanity.

In the mirror, Kiki’s brows raise. “You had Marquis Haruka talk to you about your toilette?”

“Against his will,” she assures her, breathless, before she realizes what that sounds like. “I mean, not that I-- he was berating me--”

Kiki holds up a hand, lips quivering. “I can picture the scene.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks heat, glowing pink in the glass. “Of course.”

“I’m nearly done.” Her fingers are nearly as deft as Obi’s, making quick work of the horde of hooks. “Since I’m back here, is there something I could put in your hair?”

“Oh! If you don’t mind.” Shirayuki reaches out to where she keeps her clips, flipping open the chest, and--

And they lay next to each other, stark against the pale velvet: her hairpins. The ones Obi had given her. Her hand shakes as she brushes against the carved flowers of one, against the smooth tassel of the other. She has a box of combs as well, bought on her travels under Obi’s urging, and--

“Is there any news?” She wishes she could sound brighter, less worried, but--

You don’t know anything about me, Miss.

--but despite all Zen’s assurances, this knot in her gut only sinks further, heavier with each passing hour.

Kiki hisses, fingers slipping on a clasp. “No,” she says finally, hooking it with a violent jerk. “Not yet.”

Her heart clenches, ribs squeezing as tight as any corset. “Ah.”

Kiki lifts her gaze, meeting hers in the mirror. “Don’t worry, it’s only been a night.”

“Oh, right.” Still, the tightness in her chest doesn’t ease, doesn’t let her breathe easier. “They probably need-- time. To search.”

“Yes.” Kiki’s gaze drops, fixing to the last clasp. “Exactly. Did you find what you wanted?”

Shirayuki stares at the hairpins, the best she has--

Shouldn’t Master be helping you with this, Miss?

And closes the box.

She turns to Kiki, smile bright, tight. “Why don’t you just pick out one of my combs? Any will do, I think.”

It is not that the girl was not trusting-- for all girls in these stories must be trusting to a fault, must first fall for the lies meant to keep them safe-- but it was only that unlike other before her, she trusted herself as well.

The boy was her home, a part of her. Just as she might step through the door and know that there was still an ember smoldering in the hearth, she knew that something was wrong with the waiting, with the way those around her would say, he will come back on his own, he only needs time.

One does not need to see smoke to know a fire burns. And the girl did not need to prod wounds to know her boy was hurting.

Kiki cannot come to her every morning, she knows-- if Shirayuki were a princess in more than aspiration, she might be able to merit a countess as a guard, but as little more than a pharmacist living off the goodwill of the crown, she knows the assignment has caused tongues to wag, and not just below stairs.

Good, Obi would say, about time all those fancy nobles started guessing what you’re worth, Miss.

That would bring a smile, usually; as uncomfortable as this sort of attention was, Obi always made it sound exciting, as if each drawn eye was an accomplishment. As if every turned head was a coup.

But he’s not here now. And who lays beyond her door--

“Mitsuhide!” she gasps, glad she chose a gown she could close herself. “Are you with me today?”

“For a while, at least.” He smiles, stepping closer to loom pleasantly over her. “You’re looking well today.”

--Often sees only what he wants to see. Or, maybe, speaks only what she wants to hear.

“Do you think so?” she ventures, searching his face. Sleep has not come easy these past few nights, and though she knows she must, at some point, lose consciousness in order to wake, she remembers none of it. No moment where she dozes off, no burst of restfulness when she opens her eyes, no dreams.

Though perhaps that last is a mercy.

“Of course!” His smile is earnest, crinkling the corner of his eyes. “You’re practically glowing.”

Her smile is tremulous, but she manages to hold it, even if just for a moment. It’s enough to please Mitsuhide, which is what matters. “Thank you.”

He turns, offering his arm, and she nearly takes it, hand hovering over the dark cloth--

Dark cloth that isn’t wool, oh no, but lighter stuff. Cotton, perhaps, or a stiff linen. Summer fabrics. Obi had been wearing them weeks ago, and Haruka chided him for being too early, that the palace guard wouldn’t change over until the equinox--

“Is there any word?” The words stumble off her tongue on wobbling legs.

Mitsuhide blinks, eyes wide and brown and guileless. “Come again?”

“About Obi,” she presses. “Have they found anything yet?”

“They?” he murmurs, brow furrowing, but a moment later-- “Ah, you mean-- ah--?”

“The men Zen sent out to look for him.” She lays her hand on his arm, fingers clenching in the cloth-- cotton, she was right. “They must have news.”

“Oh, ah...” He clears his throat. “No. I haven’t heard anything.”

His hand engulfs hers, and oh, she hadn’t realized she had been gripping him so hard. Her fingers ease, smoothing the wrinkles they left.

“Shirayuki,” he rumbles, “I know you’re worried.”

Her throat is too tight to manage anything more than a squeak.

“Zen will take care of it,” he tells her, no doubt dogging his voice. “And I’m sure that-- that--” his gaze slips off her, fixing across the hall-- “I’m sure Obi will be back any day now.”

Ribs squeeze tight, her breath trapped in her lungs, and oh, how she wishes she could believe that, how she wishes he would just drop down onto her balcony like he never left, but--

You don’t know anything about me, Miss.

She can’t.

“After all, it’s hardly been a week,” he continues, confidence limping.

A week. Shirayuki’s mind whirls, starts counting the days, but she stops herself. She knows well enough how long it’s been; there’s no need to do the unkindest arithmetic and find the difference between that and when they’d told her.

“Right,” she says instead, plastering on a smile she does not feel. “Any day now.”

The girl is dogged, is determined, but in the end-- she is just a little girl.

Have you seen him, she would ask, did you see him when he left?

The townsfolk would only look at her with pitying eyes, would only shake their heads. He is gone, girl.

Then I will find him, she would say, and the townsfolk would sigh, would grimace, would tell her, it is time to accept it.

It is not any man that she knows the next morning.

He’s young, dark haired with an oval face, the same as so many guards at Wistal. She knew nearly every man on Lilias’s walls from walk alone, from veteran Jirou-- always a sergeant and never a commander, just the way he likes it-- to fresh-faced Hiro, only recently given his pike and hat. But here-- well, Obi had not been so involved with the guard in Wistal, save to avoid them.

No name comes to her. With the spray of freckles over his nose and the roundness still in his cheeks, he could not have been more than a recruit when she headed north, probably assigned to one of the lesser-used gates or sent to guard doors.

“My lady!” he gasps, bowing his head. “I’m to be your escort.”

Her smile stiffens, pulling tight like pressed paper. Perhaps she had been too generous with his age-- he was more likely one of the lanky boys hanging off the gate, rather than one of the young men guarding it.

“Oh,” she manages, poorly burying her disappointment. “T-thank you.”

Who does he work for? Her hand tightens on the door, the faint lilt of of Obi’s voice drawing her short. He had always been so much better at this game that her, plucking out which overtures were insult or ingratiation. Without him in her ear, she’s playing this game half-blind, never calculating the angles soon enough for safety.

Still, he is a young guard, surely too new to be in anyone’s pocket, and Izana was always so careful with the men that surrounded the royal family--

“Just for the morning!” he assures her. “As a favor to Lady Kiki. She’s busy this morning, my lady.”

That answers that question handily. “Oh. Well. I suppose...that’s fine.” She pulls the door closed behind her. “Do you know Kiki personally?”

“Hardly,” he tells her with a humble flush, falling into step just behind her. “My father is a tenant of Seiran. I didn’t even know she knew my name.”

Shirayuki’s smile settles easier on her face. “But you knew hers.”

“Everyone knows Lady Kiki,” he says, hushed and reverent, and oh, does Shirayuki recognize that breathlessness, that wonder. Even now it would catch in her chest when the light captured Kiki in just the right moment, like one of those paintings where ancient goddesses emerged from the sea or decapitated faithless kings. “She’s magnificent.”

She hums, smothering a smile. “Have you been in Wistal long?”

“The last three seasons,” he says, as if Wistal has anything other than this eternal summer and a slightly more mild winter. “They say I’m almost ready for the Poet’s Gate, if I want a little more bustle in my day.”

The Poet’s Gate. There’s a pleasant ache as she remembers those early days, as she remembers the two guards who would open it for her if she only asked-- Kai and Shiira, a bare recruit and a man hardly a handful of years his senior, both always greeting her with a smile. She hadn’t seen them since she’d returned; Obi had laughed when she’d mentioned it, worried, that first week.

They’re both veterans now, he’d told her, smile fondly curving a corner of his mouth. They won’t waste them on gate duty. Probably have plum assignments in the court, by now.

She means to ask about them, about whether he has heard where life and duty have taken the men who were kind to her before she earned her place, but instead--

“Have you heard anything about Obi?”

Heat floods her cheeks, but that is a familiar betrayal. That her mouth and mind no longer obey her, that she’s so liable to spit out her first thought with no warning--

That is new. That is worse.

Still, the boy only blinks. “Obi, my lady?”

“Sir Obi.” The title is odd on her tongue, like a shoe slipped on the wrong foot. “Zen-- His Highness sent men out to look for him a few days ago. I thought you might have heard something, seeing as how you live in the barracks.”

And guards are more loose with gossip than fishwives, Obi would say with a wink.

His brows draw down, mouth bowed in confusion. “Is Sir Obi some kind of nobleman? An exile, or something?” His eyes light as he adds, “An outlaw?”

Shirayuki can only stare, a terrible foreboding crawling in her gut. “N-no! Sir Obi is a guardsman-- or at least, he was, before. Now he’s a knight of the Royal Circle.”

The boy’s interest wanes. “Oh, no, haven’t heard anything about that. Not too strange though-- the knight’s circle tends to take care of their own.” His mouth rumples thoughtfully. “Though I haven’t heard of any of them missing, of late. Or anyone being sent out after them.”

“But the search,” she presses, the foreboding’s claws sinking deep into her belly, “you’ve heard of that, haven’t you? At least from the men who have gone out?”

Still he looks at her, uncomprehending. “My lady, I don’t know any that have.”

The girl has known kindness before.

Kindness was a hand in the market, leading her home when she was separated from her grandparents. It was the basket of food on her doorstep when they died, still warm from the oven. It was a dexterous hand deep in a rose bush, untangling branches so they might grow straight, might bloom in their season.

It had never before been the man who said, He will not come back, for it was the the river that took him, and he has drowned.

But honesty is its own kindness, in its way. Even when its message is cruel.

“You are distracted.”

Shirayuki blinks, and it’s only then that she feels the liquid at her wrist, thickly winding down her palm. Her toast sits outstretched in her fingers, forgotten, egg yolk dripping on her hands, her cuffs, the table--

“Oh!” She drops it, alarmed, onto her plate. “I’m-- I’m sorry, I just--”

“You weren’t paying attention,” Haruka admonishes gruffly, handing her a serviette. It’s a lost cause; the yolk may come off but it leaves a runny yellow blotch on the cotton. Unsalvageable, according to the court; ripe for the garbage.

She frowns. Maybe she can convince them to just replace the cuff; she’d heard just the other day that lace was soon to be out of fashion anyway.

The marquis grips her elbow, guiding it away from her tea. “You’re still not paying attention.”

She blinks. “Did you just reach across the table?”

He settles back into his seat, dabbing absently at his mouth. “Only to save the wash-maids their scrubbing. They’ll have a hard enough time with what you’ve already spilled, let alone adding to it.”

Her cheeks flare with heat, but she keeps her hands in her lap, worrying at the cloth there.

The marquis grunts, setting down his fork. “I see you have no intention of putting your concerns aside and dedicating your attention to the lesson.”

“No! I mean, yes! No, wait, I mean--” she shakes her head-- “I’m trying.”

With a sigh, he places his napkin on the table, shifting his plate away so that he may fold his hands above it. “What could weigh so heavily upon you that you cannot make it through a single egg?”

“Nothing,” she promises. “It’s just...”

Haruka raises his brows, as encouraging a gesture as she’s ever seen from him, but--

But to say she’s worried about Obi, that he’s run away and he won’t come back, that perhaps she’s chased him away--

Well, to a man like Haruka, she might as well be complaining about the dishwasher in the kitchens, or a hound in the kennels. A bodyguard should be beneath a princess’s notice.

Her mouth thins. Besides, that’s only half of the concerns she’s been wrangling with these last few hours.

“Zen told me that he would-- he would handle something.” Every word wobbles under its own weigh as it stumbles from between her teeth. “But it seems that he might not have...that he didn’t...”

The marquis clears his throat with a sharp nod, approving. “It is the prerogative of princes to keep their promises. Or not.” He fixes her with a stern look. “He must do what’s best for the kingdom.”

What’s best for the kingdom. The words rankle, rattling her right down to her bones. Obi was his aide, his staunchest ally, his friend--

“It is what’s best.” Shirayuki can do no arithmetic where Obi does not benefit Clarines, and that Zen might-- that Zen could-- “He knows that.”

Haruka lifts a shoulder, a careless shrug so like the Izana’s she nearly shivers from the chill. “Then perhaps he has been kept from keeping it. He is, after all, not the highest power in the kingdom.”

It’s tempting to believe; Izana often relished his role as a caltrop to their happiness, adding bizarre twists to his expectations that left Zen scrambling to meet them. But still, still--

“No.” If there is anyone that can do the complex calculations of loyalty and risk, it’s Izana. “I don’t think he would have stopped him. Not for this.”

“Then perhaps it is a lack of time,” Haruka offers, begrudgingly helpful, “or the resources. Or perhaps--” he hesitates, sending her a long look-- “the will.”

Her breath gasps from her, a palpable hit, and she doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to think Zen wouldn’t believe finding Obi is as much of a priority as her, but--

There’s no reason to get so upset. It’s not odd for Obi to disappear with no explanation.

“Then why would he tell me he would?” She wishes she could keep the raw edge from her words, the accusation. “He must have done something. Kiki and Mitsuhide both said that he...”

Her words dry up at the pitying look on the marquis’ face, gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual stony expression.

“Not that I care to insert myself into your petty concerns,” he says, his tone thick with disinterest, “but it would behoove you, as a princess, to have a keen eye for who is most loyal to you, and who is most loyal to your husband.“

She blinks. “But--”

“It would be a mistake of the highest order to believe they are the same thing.” He gives her a long, meaningful look. “Kingdoms have fallen from such folly.”

Trust is a strange thing, is it not? It is a badge of honor, freely given. It is a privilege, hard to earn.

Doubt is easier; it lives with us, a tenant that never leaves, feeding our darkest thoughts and deepest fears. It is so easy to glut oneself on uncertainty, on indecision, and yet--

And yet we will fight hardest when trust is on the line. Even with the bleakest evidence, we will beg for one slight more, for another single shred of proof until it buries us. Anything to keep from believing it has been broken.

For once trust is lost, it can never be regained.

Her stomach still churns when the marquis releases her from her lesson, his words sitting as poorly as her egg and toast.

He must do what’s best for the kingdom. The words ring loud in her ears, inescapable. Perhaps it is a lack of time-- or of will.

It is only the tweak in her jaw that warns her how tight she is clenching it. This is-- she can’t-- she shouldn’t--

Her hand drops from the door, and she takes a deep, collecting breath, drawn right up from her toes. No matter how much Haruka may pretend he knows about Zen, about his motives, he’s still not him. A man like the marquis may make false promises, but Zen--

She squares her shoulders, glaring down the door. Zen has never not kept his word, not to her. He doesn’t deserve this doubt.

The knot in her stomach squirms. If only her surety could kill it.

It’s Kiki who waits for her in the hall; her lean is casual, one boot placed on the wall behind her as if this were some simple tavern and not the royal palace. For a moment, Shirayuki nearly laughs; few dare to treat the heart of Clarines with such irreverence-- Obi, for one, though she suspects he constitutionally incapable of awe; Izana, for another, though she supposes he has the most right out of anyone to treat the palace like any other home; and--

Zen.

It would behoove you to have a keen eye for who is most loyal to you, and who is most loyal to your husband.

The world tilts, and suddenly the casual lean seems studied, affected. Every line of Kiki’s body is tense, coiled for confrontation, her head hanging heavy and shoulders bowed, as if the weight of her thoughts were a burden. It’s only when she turns to her, smile tilting her lips, that it eases, but--

But even that is a conscious effort, an act that she is performing for Shirayuki’s benefit. Something is wrong, and Kiki doesn’t want her to know.

“Shirayuki.” Kiki peels off the wall, faint, friendly smile in place. “Did you enjoy--?”

“Have you heard anything?” Shirayuki nearly winces at the edge in her voice, at how terse she sounds. “Anything at all?”

There’s a moment, so quick it would be missed were she not waiting for it, where Kiki’s face quivers, where her carefully constructed smile pulls tight like tanning hides. It’s gone the next, replaced by a concern so genuine Shirayuki aches to believe it. “No, not yet. I’m sure that--”

“It’s been nearly a week,” she pushes, “and no one’s heard anything.”

Kiki shrugs a shoulder, too casual. “It’s Obi. He goes off all the time.”

“Not for this long.” She shakes her head. “Not without telling me. What if something’s happened, and he--?”

“You don’t need to worry, Shirayuki.” Kiki lays a hand on her arm, giving her a comforting squeeze. “Obi can take care of himself. If he talks himself into trouble, he’s fully capable of talking himself right back out.”

Her nails bite painfully into the flesh of her palms. “But he shouldn’t have to,” she says, so softly, meeting Kiki’s hard gaze. “We’re his friends.”

Kiki’s grip tightens, but her only answer is a harsh breath, echoing in the hall.

“He was already by himself for so long,” Shirayuki pushes, “we shouldn’t let him be alone again. Not like this.”

“Shirayuki--”

“Did Zen send anyone out to look for him?” she asks so baldly, Kiki rocks back on her heels. “Or was that...”

She can’t bring herself to finish the thought. Not without knowing for certain.

“Zen,” Kiki grits out between her teeth, “is doing what he think is best.”

It’s not the answer Shirayuki is hoping far, and it’s far and away from the one she wants.

“I think,” she says, drawing herself up to her full height, “that I need to see Zen. Now.”

It is said that the depth of a wound has little to do with how it heals, but rather depends on the way that it is left, on the shape of the weapon that made it. Trauma, they say, is the difference between a clean cut and a poor death.

There is no way to prepare for betrayal. Perhaps that is what makes it so hard to swallow, so hard to forgive. It is a ragged knife, pressed to the most sensitive parts.

And no matter how shallow the wound, the rent it leaves is ragged, slow to heal, if it ever does. Traumatic, to be left with a gash that will not close, that can open and bleed again, if it chooses to.

A killer, some might say. Just another type of poison.

In her first days at Wistal, she had heard the complaints: Prince Zen is never in his office. The second prince keeps lords waiting in his antechamber for hours. The prince has no respect for the time of the members of the small council.

It had made her laugh then, small giggles smothered by the collar of her lab coat while Ryuu watched her with wary eyes. Even before the kiss in the tower, before she’d known about his feelings for her-- and discovered her feelings for him-- she’d felt a thrill knowing that she was often the reason he crept off his balcony after tea, or slipped out a window after brunch. He kept important men waiting, but her-- never.

Or at least, not until now.

Shirayuki’s hands are rarely idle.

At Lilias, she had rarely been without a book to hand or notes to make; all too often Lata had remarked on the stack of tomes that seemed to follow her wherever she went, or Shidan complained about the number of notes he found littered outside his office door.

What is it they say, Miss? Obi would tease, his mouth rucked in one corner, brow cocked. Idle hands are wickedness’s tools?

She’d given up on smothering her smiles by then; he’d always known anyway. Then I guess that makes me all goodness.

Ah, he’d sigh, looking over the yard, breath misting on the air. I suppose it does.

Even as a child, she’d been under the bar, playing shell games with the glasses, or in the kitchen, learning how not to cook away from her grandmother’s watchful eye. A busy thing, the townsfolk would laugh.

But a princess is not busy. Or rather-- she only plans to be busy. She doesn’t carry a stack of books under an arm, or have ink spilled on the web between her thumb and forefinger, nor does she feel the need to fidget when she’s left to wait on what amounts to little more than a cushioned stool.

Ten minutes after she sits, she tears the lace on her sleeve. Another five, and she’s lost a button, hidden somewhere underneath her voluminous skirts. Not three minutes later, one of the guards takes pity on her and gives her his handkerchief.

“Hard to ruin a simple thing like this, my lady,” he says with a wan smile, casting a nervous look toward the door.

Shirayuki takes one look at the lovingly embroidered initials in the corner and swallows down, I wouldn’t be so sure.

All told, she waits an hour, the sun sinking under the horizon before Zen leaves his office, half-dressed for dinner.

“Shirayuki!” His eyes pulse wide as he sees her, swinging towards Mitsuhide in question. “I didn’t know that we-- did we have plans tonight...?”

“No.” It’s an effort to keep her voice even, calm. “I needed to see you.”

His mouth flares wide, the weariness gone from his face, as if it had never been. “Oh?”

She takes a breath, bracing herself for the conversation to come, but she chokes on it as he takes her hands so softly between his own.

“I don’t have time tonight,” he says, gentle and pleased, “but tomorrow-- dinner, just the two of us. I promise.”

“That isn’t--”

He squeezes her hands before he leaves, smile wry and tired, and she--

She stands alone, hands still warm from where he held them, the unsaid words caught in her teeth.

Have you seen him? the little girl asks, day in and day out. Have you seen my boy?

He is gone, the townsfolk tell her, as they always do. If it were another girl, this tale might end here; determined and dogged she might be, but everyone has a breaking point. It would be too easy to accept it, to forget, to let her boy become a faded memory from childhood.

But this little girl-- she learns.

Where did he go, then? she asks instead, and the townspeople shrug their shoulders. The city, some guess, or the wood. Perhaps he followed a traveling band, or a woman.

What does it matter? one finally says, cross. What would a little girl like you even do?

Ah, for that is the trouble with stories; they make us think of virtuous, obedient girls, girls who remember to offer old grandmothers lunch from their basket, and remember all the words to the magic rhyme. We forget the most important thing:

Little girls can do anything, so long as they haven’t learned they can’t.

She nearly loses herself in the city.

The streets of Lilias had been as familiar to her as the lines on her palm, their winding paths worn into the very fabric of her heart so that even on the darkest nights, she could make her way back to her chambers with little more than her legs alone. She’d thought she’d known Wistal the same way; she’d lived for months in that little apartment outside the palace, the one with the pot-bellied stove, and even when she’d moved into the dormitories, she’d spent hours perusing the markets for pharmacy stock. But now that she’s here, standing in its night-darkened roads--

Ah, she feels every day of those years away.

Still, she remembers when Obi would stumble onto her balcony, pockets a fair bit heavier than when he’d left her, crowing about the pub just outside the gates where the guard would go to drink away their days. And gamble away their paychecks, it seemed, if Obi’s suddenly flushed fortunes were any indication.

He’d never told her its precise location-- she’d gone to drink with the guard in Lilias, more times than she could count, but in Wistal she’d been reserved, wary about mixing company outside of Zen’s influence, and either Obi had sense her hesitation, or--

Well, or he’d just not wanted to go out drinking with the bookworm who kept him cooped up in the library all day. Still, she knew it wasn’t far from the Poet’s Gate, and not far from the market district, somewhere close to the river that ran through the city, and from there--

From there, she just followed the guards.

The water hungers.

You laugh; how can waters hunger when they have no mouths to eat, no bellies to sate. But that is the thing of it-- waters run deep, and they long to be filled. That is why we talk of pond reflections that reach up to pull children in, or monstrous horses that lure men deeper, or great, terrible beasts that live at the bottom.

The girl knows it, as all clever children do. But she knows just as well-- a beast that hungers can be bargained with, as long as you pay the price.

Hood drawn low, Shirayuki slips in to the steady stream of patrons that saunter into the bar.

The pub is dim, much more than she expects. Wistal has ever been the bright spot in her memory, the city of eternal summer; that it has places where the lamps burn low too gives her pause.

Not for long; she’s the daughter of a bar-- or at least a granddaughter-- and she’s used to these dark places. As a child, she’d sit under the tables, listening to the custom talk, hearing about plans she only half understood and people she would never known. She’d learned words to never say, too, or at least that was what her grandmother had told her, sending her to bed without dessert.

She knows what to look for-- a shadowed table, not too far from where the guards are losing their coin, just close enough to eavesdrop without--

“Ah, sorry,” a man says, shouldering her hard enough to make her gasp. “I wasn’t looking...ma’am?”

He wraps the last word in a question, and with a cursory glance around the room, Shirayuki realizes her mistake. She’s the only one in the room wearing skirts that isn’t also serving drink.

Of course, of course. Her grandparents might have seen both husband and wife for their evening drink, but a place like this, meant for guards who were done with the day but yet didn’t want to face their duties at home--

“Ma’am?” Another man, dressed in the uniform and nearly as young as Ryuu steps up to her. “I think you might be turned around.”

“N-no.” She digs her heels into the floorboards, and the soldier trying to steer her stumbles, jostling her. “I’m right where I--”

“Lady Shirayuki?” The other man stares at her owlishly, and it takes her a full minute to realize that if she made the cheeks rounder, the skin more freckled--

“Kai?” She grips his wrists, relief nearly choking. “Kai. I’m so glad to see you.”

He blinks, staring down at where she grasps him. “Ah, of course, my lady. I’m glad to see you too. Been a long time.”

“I hope you’ve been well,” she says, breathless, “but also, I need your help.”

There are rules this sort of bargaining, to gaining favors from the wild.

They are not like any you know. We live in a world of reason, where one can exchange paper and the promise of precious metals and receive goods in return. But to do so with a wild thing, with a tree or a deer or a mountain or even a river--

Impossible. Their price is fixed, a single thing.

And oh, it is high.

Every little girl has her precious treasure, an item of unfathomable worth. They are secret things, sometimes kept hidden under floorboard or pressed between pages of a beloved book, and sometimes kept in plain sight, for clever girls know that no one will look for what they can already see. And secret these things much remain, for once someone knows of it--

Well, there is a kind of power in knowing what someone loves most, is there not?

This one keeps hers under the bed, peeking out just under the skirt. It is special thing for special occasions, hardly worn save to impress. The red shines when she puts them on, the patent leather hugging to the small curves of her feet, and although some others may have better, may have silk slippers or heeled boots soft as a glove--

Here, her boy had said, hands scarred from thorns, blood smearing into the leather. I found them.

--hers are far more precious all the same.

The table is well lit, and Kai sees to it that the barmaids keep it laden with food and drink aplenty, but--

“This is kind of you,” Shirayuki says, hesitant, “but I need your help.”

“Anything,” he promises, and the men pressed in beside her nod, eyes wide and innocent.

She stifles a sigh. A part of her-- a non-small part of her-- wishes it had been Shiira instead. “It’s Obi. He’s missing.”

Kai goes pale beneath the lights. “Missing?”

She nods, hands gripping the edge of her cloak. “I need to know if you know-- know anything. If anyone has seen anything.”

The men exchange concerned glances, the kind adults do over the heads of little children. Her nails bite hard into her palms. This is what all her years of learning, all her hard work has come to: for everyone to treat her as if she is as unable to hear simple truths as a child.

“Please.” She hates how her voice cracks under the weight of her worry, of her anger. “If anyone knows anything-- anything, I don’t have much, but...”

She places a long, wooden box on the table, and with a practiced motion, pulls the lid open.

“What I do have,” she says, watching the glass bead wink in the light, its orange gloss as alive as fire, “is yours.”

The river is a force of nature, relentless, ruthless, and uncaring, but--

So are little girls, when they have been crossed.

Is it true you took my boy from me? the little girl asks the river, her words lost in its rapids. I don’t have much, but what I have is yours.

It does not answer; water may be ever-changing, ever-flowing, but it waits on tradition.

If I give you my shoes, she asks, brushing their shiny leather for the last time, will you give him back to me?

The men are silent, eyes fixed to the hairpin glistening on the tabletop. Lady Mihoko may say it is the least among her ornaments, lacking the precious stones and fine filigree that most nobles favor, but-- it has worth. The bead may be glass, but the pin is gold, and what it lacks in precious jewels it makes up for in rarity; in all her travels across Clarines and Tanbarun, Shirayuki has never seen another like it.

It only strikes her now that maybe, just maybe, it was too fine a prize for a bare-knuckled fight under a bridge. That maybe--

Maybe it might be more precious than she could have ever known.

Her chest tightens as one of the men reaches out. Here she is, with Obi’s greatest treasure, and she is giving it away.

Maybe it’s no wonder why he left.

The little girl watches as her red shoes float back to shore, watches as they are left so delicately on the bank, and forgets how to breathe.

Did I not throw them far enough? she asks, using all her strength to hurl then into its current. Give me back my boy!

Still they drift back to her, cutting through the river’s relentless flow, now even a drop of water left on them.

Where is he? she asks the river. If he is not with you, then where has he gone?

But that is not the bargain, now is it?

He slides the lid shut. “We couldn’t possibly take this, my lady.”

Another of the guard nods, eager. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Not when you’re looking for Sir Obi,” Kai tells her. “I didn’t see anything, but one of the recruits mentioned something the other night.”

Her heart flutters painfully in her chest. “What did he say?”

“I don’t...” Kai’s cheeks flush, and his eyes won’t meet hers. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes!” She’s breathless, so close to her answers.

“The recruit doesn’t know Sir Obi, not by anything but reputation, so we can’t be sure--”

Her hands dart out, grabbing the close weave of his sleeve. “Kai, please, anything.”

He glances up at the other guards, uncertain, and says, “He saw a man leaping over the walls the night Sir Obi went missing. He thought it was odd at the time, but since they were leaving from inside and going outside--”

“They?”

Kai grimaces. “Yes, they.”

She stares, uncomprehending. “He wasn’t alone?”

“No.” Kai hesitates, looking sick, before he adds, “He was seen leaving with a woman, my lady.”

It is funny how we want answers, how we need them, how we are desperate for them-- but only when they are the one we are looking for.

A woman. The air in this pub is too thin, she can hardly breathe. “I need to stand,” she says, hardly thinking, “please.”

The guards all scramble to move, offering hands to help her forward, but--

He wasn’t alone. He had left with a woman. He had planned to leave--

“I think,” says an all-too-familiar voice, “that this is quite enough.”

Shirayuki raises her gaze, fixing on the cloaked figure before her, on the pale of her hair in the gaslight, on the nigh-black indigo her eyes have become in the shadow, on the pale outstretched hand that hovers, expectant before her.

“Come on,” Kiki says, gentle yet firm. “It’s time to go back.”

It is magnificent, is it not, how we survive?

It is said it is our strongest instinct, the call we cannot refuse. When there is nothing else left to us, when not even thought can be counted upon, it is still in us to live.

A body may have a thousand cuts, a back may be pricked with a dozen arrows, but oh, how we will still stand, how we still take the next step, and then another. How we will walk a mile as we still bleed, if only to to take another breath.

And yet still, it is possible to die of a broken heart. And old man may lose his lover, and when he lays down that night, he never wakes.

A poison, a blade, our longing: it is up to the heart to decide what we can take.

Isn’t it magnificent how it is impossible to know which will be the killing blow?

It is lucky that her arm is tucked so nearly into Kiki’s side as they walk back; Shirayuki’s mind cannot hold a thought for more than a moment, let alone try to trace her steps back through the market.

“He wasn’t alone,” she manages. “Someone left with him.”

Kiki hums.

“A woman.” Her brow furrows. “She must have gone over the gate with him. Do you think that it could be Torou?”

“I couldn’t say,” Kiki replies, tight.

“Do you think that he...” She cannot seem to make the words settle on her tongue. “Do you think that he planned...?”

She cannot make herself say, do you think he meant to leave without saying goodbye?

Kiki is silent, the sort of silent that isn’t empty but heavy instead.

Shirayuki stops, and Kiki pauses beside her. “Did you know he didn’t leave alone?”

Kiki’s mouth pulls thin, and she looks away. “It’s late. We should get inside.”

Shirayuki lets out a long breath, finally glancing at the door before them, and--

“This isn’t my room.” She blinks. “This isn’t even my wing.”

“No,” Kiki says with a long sigh. “It isn’t.”

Not every lie is meant to wound. Oh no, some are meant to be shields, a cushion between our softer parts and the sharp edges of reality.

After all, not all of us are ready for the harsh light of truth. Some of us would prefer to remain blinded all our lives, if only we could keep from hurting.

“I must admit,” the consort says, as elegant on her ottoman as if she were keeping court. “I did think you would last longer than this.”

Shirayuki drops into a genuflect so low her head nearly brushes the carpet. She has dined with princes and traded quips with kings, but there is something about the consort of Clarines that intimidates her as not even Izana does. “Your Majesty.”

“Please, let us not stand on ceremony.” She gestures for her to sit, though there’s no chairs to take, only the floor before her. “Especially since we are so soon to call each other sisters, are we not? Unless--” she darted a pointed glance at Kiki-- “I am to take from this ill-conceived jaunt that you have changed your mind.”

“N-no!” she yelps, taking a step forward, only halted by the mild-mannered brow the consort lifts. She haltingly drops to her knees, tucking her ankles beneath her on the carpet. “I mean, yes. I mean-- I still want to marry Zen. I just...I can’t let my friend--”

“Shush.” She holds up a hand, mouth bent in a kindly curve. “I understand your worry. But I have always been told you are a clever girl, and you are going to have to be much cleverer than this if you wish to marry my brother.”

Shirayuki frowns, annoyance building. “I just went into the market--”

“And into a tavern frequented by commoners,” the consort interjects, cross. “I know that you have, to this point, been far more free to roam as you see fit, but my husband place this restriction upon you for a reason. Surely you must know that a woman of your standing must be entirely above reproach if she wishes to...elevate her station to the degree you do.”

“I’m not trying to--”

“You are,” she is informed. “Perhaps you do not want the title, but Clarines cannot be cloven from a Wisteria, no matter how much you wish it. It is best that you resign yourself to that reality now, if no one else has seen fit to impress it upon you.”

Shirayuki squirms, the carpet rubbing at her knees. “Haruka did tell me something like that.”

“I would expect so. He’s a realist, unlike some.” Haki shifts on her stool, leaning close. “If you are to maintain the reputation needed to make this scheme work, you cannot go haring off to find your friend. Not when Zen has everything well in hand.”

She sits back, gracing Shirayuki with a significant look. “Especially after another man.”

Heat creeps up her cheeks, and oh, that implication knots her dread tighter in her gut, makes it sit as heavy as lead. “It’s not like that. I just can’t sit by if something’s happened--”

“It’s not easy,” the consort allows, with all the weight of someone who knows from experience. “But a princess is not a hound. It is not our place to search.”

Her hands clench tight in her lap. “I can’t do nothing.”

“Nor did I say you should.” The consort’s lips tilt, sly. “When one cannot act themselves, they rely on their people to act for them.”

Frustration wells up in her. “I don’t have people. I only have myself.”

“Come now, you cannot believe that.” She tilts her head, laying a thoughtful finger to her chin. “You have Zen, who in turn has people. People who he is using to find your Obi as we speak.”

Shirayuki darts a glance at Kiki, but she’s inscrutable, as always. “Is he?”

The consort raises her brows. “You doubt him?”

“I...” She doesn’t want to. “The guard--”

“As if my brother would send our guards to find a man of his aide’s caliber.” The consort laughs, so easy. “Did he not promise you he would find him? Give you his word?”

“Y-yes.” She can still feel his hands around hers, the warm way he had looked at her. “He did.”

“Then how can you worry?” The consort smiles brightly. “My brother’s word is his bond.”

“I...” Something twists with her, dark, but she swallows it down. “Right. Of course. Zen is-- handling it.”

The consort nods, business concluded. “Good. Now come, I’ve been told you are struggling with your lessons.”

Oh. She hadn’t been aware that was...common knowledge. “I...”

“It’s only to be expected,” the consort concludes, “most ladies are trained their entire life for this, and you have only just started. But worry not,” she smiles, so warm, “I will help you.”

Shirayuki’s eyes pulse wide. “M-me? That’s...very generous of you.”

Haki’s mouth curls in amusement. “I won’t pretend my motives are not personal. I’ve seen the list of candidates for if this experiment fails, and you are fully the most interesting person out of all of them.” Teeth flash from behind her lips, gone in a moment. “I refuse to have to plan every gala with someone whose most nuanced opinion has been formed over the difference between carmine and crimson.”

Shirayuki frowns. “Aren’t they both red?”

“See, already you are more tolerable than half of them.” She sighs, waving a weary hand. “What you don’t know about this life can be learned. And unlike some, I believe in setting up people to succeed. It must be my soft northern heart.”

Now that her heart is calm, she remembers the enormity of what she’s done. “So you won’t-- I mean, Izana--?”

“Ah, your little jaunt. No, this will be our little secret.” Shirayuki isn’t sure who that shark’s smile is for, but she’s glad it’s not her. “Women must have some, after all.”

But that is the thing, is it not? That which is hidden never stays buried. Reality never halts its siege.

In the end, all we have done is allowed the truth to hone its blade. In the end, it is a betrayal we never meant to make.

It’s funny how we may hurt the ones we love so easily, without ever even trying.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #All That Remains #snow queen au #this part has gotten a little out of control #i mean it makes sense it's like the longest part of the original story #but there's like one or two more parts to this 'chapter' still coming #we're juuuuuuust getting to the woman who can conjure #like 15K into this part ughhhh #WHATEVER IT'LL BE WORTH IT #ENJOY YOUR PAIN YOU MASOCHISTS

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illfoandillfie · 5 years ago

Text

Curtains - Part 5

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Roger x F!Reader

Summery: First two dates, you and Roger move on

Warnings: Smut (18+), dealing with Emotions, smoking, car sex, public sex, oral sex (m receiving), (slightly hesitant) dom!Rog

Words: 6872

A/N: Originally I planned chapter 5 to be the last one but some stuff changed from my original plan and it ended up getting waaaaaaayyyy too long so there’ll be a chapter 6 lmao. The Morris Mini Roger drives in this was a car he actually owned (it’s in the photo and everything)

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely

@bohemiansweede @rogershoe @lnnuend0 @funitrog

You changed your outfit about sixteen times before you settled on the right one. It had actually been the first one you chose – a dress you were sure Roger had never seen you in before – but you’d had to rule out everything else you owned before you could be sure, or rather, before you could feel less anxious about the decision. You were determined to look your best and to make sure he evening was fun, even though the nerves twisting in your stomach made you want to pick up the phone and cancel again. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, it was just the pressure of it all. Everything that had happened between you and Roger felt like a lead up to this date. Like a great big drumroll building and building until he knocked on your door. And you couldn’t help feeling like there was a big chance you were going to fuck it up, probably for good. So, one by one you held your clothes up in front of the mirror and one by one you added them to the absolutely not pile, discarding them for reasons big and small – too uncomfortable, too hard to get in to, too much a colour Roger didn’t like. The pile of clothes deemed not good enough had steadily grown larger as you added outfit after outfit – this one was too slutty, this one not slutty enough, and this one was something your mother would have suggested and therefore a definite no. Until eventually you’d been left with the dress you originally pulled out and a sense of satisfaction with your choice. Despite the urge to throw up you felt at the knock on the door, the decision was made even more satisfying when Roger took one look at you and whistled. “You ready to go?” “Yeah just let me grab my bag,” “Not tempted to cancel again?” he winked as he asked so you knew he was joking but it still made you cringe. “Do you start all your first dates trying to make the girl feel as guilty as possible?” “Only the good ones. C’mon,” He took your hand and led you out towards a 60s Morris Mini that was parked on the street between your units. “No van tonight?” “Of course not,” he said as he opened the door for you, “you didn’t think that was my main ride, right?” he closed the door behind you, shooting you a disbelieving look through the windshield as he ran round to his door. “Well it’s the only one I’ve ever seen you in,” “No, this is my baby,” he lovingly tapped the dashboard as he started the engine, “The van I just got to lug around stage equipment. Couldn’t fit a drumkit in here.” “No you could not,” you laughed, taking in the small interior of the car. “Hey, don’t laugh at her. She was a gift from my mum when I moved up here.” “Sorry, just not the car I pictured you in. It’s cute though.” “She is a bit small actually. Very hard to get a girl into the back.” “Might have to ask for proof later,” Roger looked over at you briefly before looking back at the road, “I’m just gonna say this now and get it out of the way so I don’t make this date too awkward later on, but,” he paused and took a deep breath that only made the nerves twist your stomach into knots, “we don’t have to have sex tonight. If you want to take this slow or you want to set some boundaries to start it’s okay, I’d understand.” You smiled at him as he glanced back over again. His thoughtfulness as least helped ease your lingering worries about his sincerity about dating you, “Thank you. But you don’t have to like take a vow of chastity to prove you’re for real or anything.” “Because if you did want to wait, I’d get it,” “Rog, relax. Let’s just see how tonight goes okay? Besides,” you laughed, “sex might make things feel more normal.” “I’m happy to do anything to help make it more normal. If that means sneaking into the restaurant bathroom with you then so be it.” After that you fell into an easy conversation, your nerves almost reduced to those you’d feel on any other first date.

“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you look tonight?” Roger said softly as he pulled your chair out for you. The restaurant was small though by no means empty, other tables holding other dates as well as a family or two. A few of the other people looked familiar, other students you’d seen around campus or the pub, and you quickly realised this was the go-to spot for a fairly cheap date. Nice enough to impress but not enough to break the bank. “I was going to pay you the same complement. I think this might be the first time I’ve seen you in something other than those ratty jeans.” “Oi, don’t hear me insulting your wardrobe. And I wear plenty of other stuff.” “Mmm you do, I must admit I’m a little jealous of your collection. I just have one question, and stop me if this is rude, but how the fuck can you afford so much?” Roger chuckled and, looking around for eavesdroppers, crooked his finger so you’d lean it, “That’s my secret though, love, I can’t,” he sat back in his chair, comfortably relaxed, “They’re all nicked from the stall.” You did your best to ignore the flip your stomach did at the sound of the pet name, “The one you and Freddie run? Kensington, right?” “Did Fred mention it?” “Yeah, th- the night we all hung out in the van he told me about it,” you hoped Roger would ignore your slight stutter at the memory of what had happened after that night, “Said I should drop by if I got the chance.” “You should!” Your conversation was briefly interrupted by the waiter, another familiar face you were sure you’d seen around campus, coming to take your order. “What was I saying?” Roger asked once you’d ordered, “Oh wait I remember! The markets are great fun even if you’re working there. Plus, I’m sure I could find you something to buy off us.” “That desperate for sales you’ll shill to your friends?” “Of course. Easier marks since they care whether we can afford food.” he laughed, “no but you should come. I could take you if you want? As long as you don’t mind being called on to help sell a thing or two.” “Sounds like fun.” “That's settled then, you can come watch me work.” “Second date sorted then?” “Believe me, as fun as the markets are, I would not be taking you there as a second date. For one thing Fred’d be there the whole time and I’m not so keen on a third wheel so early on.”

Your waiter returned with the bottle of wine Roger had ordered and a promise the food would be out shortly. “So, Rog,” you said as he poured you a glass, “Tell me about yourself. Y’know, considering how much time we’ve been together, I don’t really know much more about you than your name.” “What do you want to know?” You paused, unconsciously sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you pondered the question, “I don’t know. Everything,” “Is that one of your first date moves? The slight lean forward so he can see down your top, the lip bite, the everything?” Roger’s imitation of you fell into laughter. "Do people actually have moves? I’m just curious,” “I’ll take that as a complement then. Where to start though...” There was barely a pause to your conversation. The only disruptions came in the form of your meals arriving, and moments when you both pulled yourself away from talking long enough to remember to take a bite. Otherwise one of you was always in the middle of a thought. He took your words to heart, telling you about his family and his friends and his studies and his band and anything you hadn’t covered in the time you’d already known each other, which was admittedly quite a lot. And it seemed that for every anecdote Roger shared you were called upon to share one of your own, his interest in you equal to yours in his. It was an easier first date than you could have possibly imagined, awkward silences replaced by curious questions, discomfort replaced by familiarity, leaving you both trying to time sips of your drinks for moments when you weren’t likely to spit it out as you fell into another round of laughter.

“So,” Roger said as he led you back out of the restaurant, leaving the waiter to clear away the empty plate from your shared dessert, “be honest, was it as terrible as you thought it would be?” “No,” you said with a huff of sheepish laughter, “I’m happy to say I had a really lovely night. Feel like even more of a knob for the whole cancelling thing but I’m glad I eventually got my shit together.” “Me too. Smoke?” he offered you the pack he’d dug out of his pocket but you waved him off, pushing yourself to sit on the hood of his car as he dug in his pocket for his lighter. He held it long enough to take two drags before you were taking it from his fingers and pulling on it yourself. “Hey, I offered you one,” “I didn’t want a whole one, just a puff or two, here look you can have it back,” he took it off you, stepping between your legs, eyes locked on yours as he put it between his lips again. To your surprise he stubbed it out under his foot as he breathed out the smoke. “What a waste! If you didn’t want it I could’ve taken it,” Roger smiled at you as he leaned in close. You could taste the smoke on his breath as he kissed you, softly, his hands resting on your thighs. “Was that okay?” he was still leaning in close. “Rog,” you said sternly, “stop asking if I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere,” to prove it you placed your arms over his shoulders, pulling him into another kiss, deeper and longer. It seemed to be convincing enough, his hands slipping up until they were on your waist pulling you against him. The skirt of your dress was askew, pushed out of place as his hands rose further up your body, exposing the top of your thigh. Neither of you could bring yourselves to stop for longer than it took to take another breath, hungry for more. Heedless of passersby, on their way to the restaurant or heading back to their cars. Your hands began to wander, sliding back over Roger’s shoulders, deceptively muscular from years of drumming, and down onto his chest. The buttons of his shirt pressed into your palm, daring you to undo them. “Think I’d like to see that backseat now,” you panted against his lips, toying with his top button, able to feel his breath as he sighed. “Told you, backseat’s too small,” “Well you could always come back to mine,”

He drove you home, moving his hand from the gear stick to your thigh whenever he could, and pulled back up in the same spot you’d found the car when you left, opening your door for you once again. There was something oddly domestic about the way Roger took your bag as you fumbled getting the key into the lock, following you inside. It made your chest feel tight, the slightly sick nervous feeling rearing its head again. “Do you want a drink?” you asked, already reaching for your wine glasses. Roger’s seemed distracted as he turned to face you, his gaze pulled away from the doorway to your room, “Uh, think I’ll pass,” “Alright,” you shrugged, putting one glass back “hope you don't mind if I have one anyway,” “Actually, I think I’m going to get going,” The slightly sick feeling only got stronger, “Oh. Okay then,” had you misread the situation? “I had a really great time tonight,” he said as he took your hand, “Just...don’t want to rush anything, y’know?” “Okay. Do you, um, do you wanna go out again?" “How about Thursday night? I’d say earlier but I’ve got a couple late classes and then some sessions with the band.” “Thursday sounds good.” “Cool, I’ll see you then.” He kissed you once more before he left. You could hear his footsteps as he walked the short distance to his front door, while you sat in your quiet kitchen trying to work out what Roger had meant by not rushing anything. Your whole relationship was essentially built on rushing things. The first time you’d spoken he’d had his hand under your skirt and within minutes he’d been in your bed. Now he was worried about it? And talk about mixed signals. Between his comments about the backseat that was practically an invitation to climb on back there and his assurance that you didn’t have to have sex which almost sounded like he was trying to convince you not to, and the way he’d kissed you and kept touching your thigh and then decided to leave, you felt like you had whiplash. It made you feel anxious, going over every moment to try and figure him out as you lay in bed and worried that things would never quite be okay between you.

Luckily you didn’t have much time to dwell on it during the week. Your classes were starting to ramp up towards exams and you found yourself being bombarded with topics to revise in preparation. A few times you saw Roger around and each time brought a twinge of uncertainty that kind of made you want to throw up, but it was always pushed from your mind fairy quickly, replaced by only marginally less puke-inducing thoughts about studying. In fact, you barely had a moment to think about your second date before Thursday evening arrived and Roger was once again knocking on your door. During a very brief conversation you’d had upon bumping into each other between classes, he’d advised you to dress casually, so he found you in jeans and t-shirt. You’d contemplated wearing a skirt, learning from previous mistakes, but you couldn’t be certain how he’d react to it. Would he teasingly scald you for not dressing casually enough or would he pull you into a public bathroom again? Jeans were the far easier option. Plus it made it that little bit harder for him to get into your pants if that was what he wanted, and you kind of liked the idea of making him work for it.

When Roger pulled into the carpark behind the pub you looked at him with raised eyebrows, the now familiar sick feeling only getting stronger, “Really? Here?” “C’mon it’ll be fun. We had fun last time,” Last time when everyone at the bar had heard you moaning for him. Last time when you’d hung out in his van. Last time right before you’d made an arse of yourself and almost ruined everything. Roger must have sensed your hesitation because he put a reassuring hand on your knee, “Y/N?” “It’s fine, I’m being stupid,” you shook your head and pulled a smile onto your face. “Are you sure? We can go somewhere else if you want,” “I’m sure. Last time was very fun,” Roger looked at you for a moment longer but you were already opening the door and climbing out of the car. He hurried to follow, lacing his fingers through yours and giving your hand an encouraging squeeze. It felt easier once you were sat together at a small table off to the side of the room, a drink in front of each of you. You let yourself relax into your conversation, laughing at Roger’s jokes and becoming enraptured with the way he spoke. By the time the band came on stage you’d almost forgotten your earlier discomfort, happy to just sit with Roger and watch them play. Especially when he beckoned you to pull your chair closer to his, allegedly so you could see the stage better, though it also gave him the opportunity to wrap and arm around your waist. “What d’you think of them?” he asked suddenly, leaning towards your ear so you could hear better. ��The band? They’re okay I guess,” “Would you say Queen is better?” “These guys don’t even come close,” “Correct answer,” he winked at you and placed a finger under your chin, tilting your face towards him. You sighed against his lips as he kissed you softly. “This drummer is especially unimpressive. Nowhere near as talented as Queen’s. Or as cute,” “Someone’s playing for the top prize,” “Mmhmm, did I win?” He leaned in to kiss you again, his hand resting on your knee, which you took as a yes. Slowly he began sliding his hand up your thigh. You shifted in your seat, turning your body to face him more, though he kept you from crossing your legs, pawing at your over your jeans. A small, quiet moan escaped you as he pressed the seam of your jeans against your clit and you felt Roger smile. He grew tired of not touching you properly though, deftly undoing your fly and wriggling his fingers under the waistband of your underpants. “Funny how often we end up here,” his voice was quiet enough that only you could hear him, yet practically demanding your full attention, “what’s the rule?” “I don’t know,” you half whined as Roger toyed with your clit. “Eyes on me, yes?” “Yes,” it took some effort but you managed to force your eyes open and bring them to rest on his face. “Good girl. You know why I want you looking at me?” You shook your head, biting your lower lip to keep from moaning too loudly. “There are two reasons. Number one, I don’t want you getting distracted worrying about who can see you. And two, I like watching your face. The way you get that pleading look in your eyes, almost begging me not to stop.” he paused, “Y’know this’d be easier if you’d worn a skirt. Which I’m fairy sure I’ve said to you before,” “D’you wanna find somewhere a little more private and help me out of these jeans then?” Roger’s finger stopped their motion and he tugged his hand free, “As tempting as that is, might be better if we head off.” “Head off like, go back to mine and spend the rest of the night together?” “I more meant... head off and go home to our own separate beds.” “Oh-kay,” you said slowly, trying to work out what you’d done wrong as he took your hand and led you back out into the warm night air. You were halfway across the carpark when you spoke up, “Why?” “Why what?” “Why do you want to go home already?” “I’ve got an early class tomorrow.” “Do you?” you dropped his hand, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yes. Why would I lie about class?” “I don’t know Roger. But you’ve been so fucking hot and cold with me I don’t really know what to think. Seriously though, what the fuck is your problem? Like one minute you’re inviting me into the backseat of your car and then next you’re saying you don’t want to rush things. You’ll touch my thigh, you’ll finger me under the fucking table but the minute I suggest we actually have sex you back off again!” “I know. I’m just...” he shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a loose stone across the carpark. “Nervous. After what happened last time. The screaming match and the -” he broke off, biting his lip but you knew what he meant. You softened at his worried expression, “Rog, I’ve told you already that wasn’t your fault. I’m the one that started it.” “Yeah but I was way too rough with you that night. I could have hurt you, I did hurt you.” “I think your forgetting the scratches I left you with,” “That’s different. The way I choked you I could have done actual damage. And then there was the – the other part,” “Is this what things are going to be like from now on?” “What?” “Is that whole fight going to infect every interaction we have? Every time I’m reminded of it I feel awful and embarrassed and guilty, and I can’t help but panic. You keep pulling away because of a bad angry fuck. What if we never get past it properly? What if we can’t?” He kicked at the gravel again, not making eye contact, “No, I think we can. The moments when we’re talking and I forget about everything else that happened are really good. I just think it’ll take a bit of time to completely move on.” “What happened to putting it behind us?” “Easier said than done,” he shrugged, “Come on, we can talk about it more in the car.” You nodded and followed though you weren’t really paying attention. Instead you were going over everything in your head, trying to find a solution. Just waiting it out wasn’t good enough. There was too much uncertainty and doubt. You needed to do something. Something that would put Roger’s mind at ease about potentially hurting you and fix the discomfort you felt. Roger opened the door for you but you didn’t get in. “Y/N?” “We need to have sex.” “We literally just went over this,” “No, I know, but we need to. I said it on our first date and played it off as a joke but the more I think about it the more sense it makes. Sex would make things feel more normal.” Roger just looked at you. “Think about it Rog. Our whole relationship was built on it. Our very first interaction was you seeing me masturbate and then finding me here,” you pointed at the building behind you, “and fingering me in a room full of strangers. It wasn’t until after we’d slept together a few times that we actually like, talked properly.” “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t want to, Y/N, I do. Fuck I want to, but...” “I get it,” you said softly, taking his hand in yours and gently rubbing your thumb over his skin, “But it won’t be like last time.” There was silence for a few moments as Roger considered but then he nodded, “Okay, yeah. Um... hop in and we’ll go back to yours.” “There’s a perfectly fine car here, why drive all that way?” "Privacy maybe?” “Rog, since when have we cared about being in public? “Touché. But I meant what I said before about the lack of space. Might wanna take your pants off before you get inside.” “You first,” “No need to be so suspicious, was your idea remember,” but he kicked his pants off all the same, throwing them into the drivers seat followed by his underwear, “I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to go balls out behind the pub,” Roger said as he folded the front seat forward. “Didn’t really take much,” you looked around to double check for any peeping toms before quickly pulling off your own jeans. They joined Roger’s, though unlike him, you kept your underpants on, “besides, I heard about you losing that bet and running starkers around the block, I know you’re not shy about this sort of thing.” “Losing a bet is losing a bet. I knew the cost and I paid it,” “Yes well, apparently that bet and sorting this,” you waved your hands between you, “this mess out, have the same cost,” “A cost you’ve noticeably not payed,” “Don’t worry, I’ll get there. But there’s something I want to do first.” Roger looked confused until you kneeled at his feet, “Woah, love,” “I’m pretty sure I owe you a blowjob, remember?” “I remember, but here? That gravel can’t be comfortable.” “It’s fine, it won’t last long.” “Excuse you but I think we both know I can last.” The end of his argument was lost in a gasp as you wrapped your hand around his length and squeezed just a little, smiling at his instant reaction. Without another word you looked up at him and took him in your mouth, sucking until he groaned, his hand flying out to brace himself against the roof of the car. You bobbed up and down, gradually taking him deeper, until he hit the back of your throat and you gagged. You pulled back off him, sliding your hand over his length, spreading your saliva out. And then you were back on him, though not taking him quite so deep, pumping your hand over what you couldn’t reach, hollowing your cheeks as you tried to draw more pretty noises from him. “Y/N, love,” You hummed in response, earning another groan and his fist banging on the roof of the car twice. “Jesus, I know I said I could last longer, but I swear to god if you keep this up, I won't,” You pulled back and smiled at him, “Isn’t that kind of the point?” “‘Spose so,” “Besides, we’re in the middle of a carpark and I’m kneeling on gravel. Think I’d prefer this to be over a little bit quicker,” That made him laugh, covering his mouth so as not to attract any attention from a gaggle of people exiting the bar and jumping into a car, “I told you it’d be uncomfortable,” You hadn’t explicitly said it and you had no idea if Roger realised, but there was a sense of apology in your actions. Modern day self-flagellation, though perhaps that wasn’t a good metaphor since you were quite enjoying yourself despite the stones pressing into your knees. But in your mind, this made things more even, went some way to erasing the awkwardness and discomfort you’d created. And that spurred you on, made you want to give him a good performance. “Quiet, smarty pants and let me get back to it,” He gave you a go on then wave with one hand, “was only warning you in-n case you – fuck,” Roger’s head fell forward as he moaned and you picked up the pace, mouth and hand moving in tandem to push him over the edge. Thankfully no one was around to hear him as he moaned, knuckles white where he held onto the car, hips jerking as you milked his cock. “In case I what?” you asked swiping at the corner of your mouth with your thumb, as a precaution. “I was going to say, in case you were planning on riding me before I came, but it’s a bit late for that now,” “Little bit,” you held out your hand so he could help pull you to your feet, dusting off the gravel still stuck to your knees as soon as you were up, “you still want to do this?” “More than ever, just give me like a minute,” “Sure, you know how much I love standing around in public half naked,” “Take your knickers off and we can talk about half naked. How are your knees?” “They’re fine,” “Good,” he stepped in close, trapping you between himself and the open car door. Your breath hitched as he kissed you, his fingers sliding into your underwear again. To any observers crossing the carpark on the way to or from the bar you would have appeared a regular loved up couple, stealing a kiss before you got in the car and drove away. At least, until they walked behind you and saw Roger’s bare arse and your spread legs. Not that you would have noticed if someone had walked by, much too caught up in how Roger’s fingers felt working their way into you, stretching you out. “Aren’t you just a filthy little slut,” “Only when you’re around.”

Roger wrenched his fingers free of your pussy, and stepped back half a step, holding his arm out towards the interior of the car, “Ladies first,” You’re just saying that to get a look at my bum,” you laughed, but you climbed inside all the same, pulling your shirt off as Roger followed and slammed the door behind him. In seconds he was reaching for you again, finding your lips again. It felt nice to be wrapped up in him once more, his touch lighter than it had been in the past, remnant concern manifesting physically. You placed your hands over his, giving him permission to be that little bit firmer as he lay you back, your head propped up against the wall behind you, taking a few seconds to look you over before he began rolling your underwear down your legs. “Wait, um, if you bend your knees for me,” he said, awkwardly trying to reposition himself to get them off your ankles. When he finally had them in his hand he slingshot them into the front seat, drawing a laugh from you. You let one leg fall to the floor as Roger pulled his shirt off, leaning forward so as not to punch the roof of the car. Once his shirt had been tossed aside he brought his hand back to your wet folds, running his fingers along you teasingly slowly. “Rog please,” “Love hearing you beg,” With a whine you readjusted yourself, scooting a little further back so more of your head rested against the wall, getting your neck into a slightly more comfortable position. He leaned over you in search of another hungry kiss but broke it off when you whimpered into his mouth. “Did I hurt you?” You shook your head, “just want you to fuck me already,” “Just, hang on love, give me a second,” he said as he tried to find a comfortable position. “Maybe if you move back a bit?” “My arse is already so close to the window I’m mooning anyone who looks this way,” You let out another laugh, “Can’t you just kneel on the seat?” “Not unless I want to bump my head. Can you move?” “Rog If I try to move back any further I may as well sit up,” “That could work,” he grabbed your arm and pulled you up so you could move across to straddle his lap. “Alright, just give me, shit-” your forehead whacked into Roger’s both of you swearing. You fell into another laughing fit as you landed on his lap, arms around his neck, though Roger wasn’t quite as amused. “God, are you okay?” he asked, pushing your hair back to examine the site of impact, “I told you it was small,” “Might not wanna say that while your dicks hanging out,” His eyes narrowed at you, “Yeah, you’re fine.” “Mmhmm, think this can work,” you wrapped your hand around Roger’s cock, making him hiss as you stroked him. You raised yourself onto your knees too fast and felt the top of your head collide with the roof of the car. “Oh Jesus bloody fuck,” you almost yelled, dropping back down straight away and rubbing the top of your head. “Christ Y/N,” Roger said getting you to look down so he could see the top of your head, “that sounded bad.” You rubbed the spot you'd hit, “It’s nothing,” “That’s it, I’m taking you home. We gotta get some ice on it.” “I’m fine,” “Y/N, it’s a head injury,” “It’s a bump Rog, nothing serious,” “It could be serious. I study biology, I know how fucking fragile the skull can be.” You sighed and lay a hand on his cheek, “Roger, I’m okay. This is not a sign from the universe or anything like that. It’s a small bump because I want you so bad.” “You sure you don’t want me to get some ice?” “Oh I am much too horny for that,” Roger still looked a little concerned but he chuckled along with you and dropped his hands to your waist, “you’ll let me know if you want to stop?” “You know I will.”

Going slower, taking a little more care, you tried to mount him again, managing it without injury. Roger still seemed wary, his hold on you lighter than you wanted but once again you placed your hands over his, pressing on his fingers until he tightened his grip. Gradually you began rolling your hips against his, letting out small hums and tempting moans against his neck as you leaned in to leave a trail of kisses and grazed teeth. Roger was biting the inside of his cheek as if he were trying to keep himself under control, lest he go too far. He hadn’t been afraid to let his domineering side show while he was just using his fingers, but now that things had progressed, and in the wake of your self-inflicted head knock, he seemed to be holding back again. It wasn’t what you needed. “C’mon Rog,” you whined between sucking at his neck, “grab me properly. Slap me, pinch me, use me. Want you to show me what needy whores like me are good for.” He swallowed audibly, fingers twitching against you as you clenched down on his cock. ��Got so turned on inside, hearing you call me a good girl. And I was so close to cumming just from your fingers,” you changed the motion of your hips, drawing a gasp from Roger. “That’s because you’re a slut who likes getting off in front of an audience,” his grasp still wasn’t hard enough, though he was clearly getting more comfortable and more eager to take charge the longer you talked, your steadily swiveling hips riling him up. “Your slut.” Roger growled. One of his hands left your hip to swat at your arse, and then it was back, his grasp firm enough to hold you still, “Enough. I know you’re desperate for me to use you again but we’ve got a problem,” he laced his fingers in your hair and tugged your head back, “Because you’re so fucking needy and couldn’t wait the ten minutes it would have taken to get home we’re here, where there isn’t enough space to do everything I want to do to you. Now, if you really want me to use you, I could always push you to the floor and fuck your mouth. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you stopped when I hit the back of your throat. Maybe it’s time I taught you how to suck dick like a proper whore.” You whined and tried to rock your hips but he pulled on your hair again. “Keep still.” “Sorry,” He raised his eyebrow and waited another moment before he continued, “I could do that. But I like being in your cunt too much. So instead, you’re going to ride me properly. No more of these teasing little rocking movements. You’re going to put those knees of yours to work and ride me, show me you can be obedient even when you’re on top. If you do well enough, I might let you cum.” He bucked his hips, a signal for you to get to it. Bracing your hands on his chest you raised yourself up and dropped down onto his cock, careful not to hit your head again, steadily building your rhythm. “Good girl,” he said softly, sliding his hands up your sides and around to your breasts. You gasped when he pinched your nipples, disrupting the rhythm you’d found which earned you a sharp spank and a warning to keep going. It didn’t help when Roger began talking again, whispering a filthy stream of consciousness monologue to you that covered every possible topic from the way your tits felt in his hands to why your neck looked better covered in his teeth marks to how much he loved being buried so fucking deep in your cunt, and everything in between. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, burning as he laid claim to every inch of you with his words and his hands and his lips. The feeling only grew when you heard a wolf whistle from the other side of the window followed by Roger’s hitched laugh. “Jesus, the way you just clenched on me. You really do like an audience, don’t you?” All you could do was whine, the need to cum only getting stronger as you repeatedly impaled yourself on him. “Go on, love, give them a show,” he spanked you again, pushing a moan from your throat and you wondered if the person who’d whistled was hanging around to listen in. You held onto Roger tighter as he raised his hips to meet yours, both of you chasing release. You were done for when he dropped his fingers to your clit, holding out long enough to hear him breathlessly order you to cum. He followed quickly, squeezing your hips again, as you collapsed against his chest.

When you found the energy, you climbed off his lap and fell into the seat beside him, stretching your legs as much as you could in the limited space. Roger leaned towards the door, winding the fogged-up window down an inch to let some fresh air into the car, before he sat back and threw an arm around you, pulling you against his side. “Was that good?” he mumbled into your hair. “Brilliant. Told you there was nothing to worry about. Quite like it when you get all rough, really.” “I know. Couldn’t help worrying though, could I? I really like you, didn’t want to scare you off,” he said it casually but from how you were leaning against him you could feel his heart racing, your own speeding up too. You pulled away from him, just far enough that you could properly see his face, “I like you too Rog.” The shy smile you’d offered turned into a fully-fledged grin, the expression mirrored on his face, as he kissed you again. “Does this mean we’re all good?” you asked when he finally let you go, “no more weirdness?” “I can’t promise no more weirdness but definitely less. And I’m more than happy to keep sleeping with you until it's gone,” You giggled, head falling into the crook of his neck, “maybe not in the car again though.” “I’ll bring the van next time, give us a bit more room,” he bumped your shoulder playfully with his, “don’t want you hitting your head every time you get too impatient to wait,” “Ooh next time? You got any ideas?” you asked, reaching to grab your shirt and throw Roger his. “Like what we’re gonna do?” he paused as he pulled his shirt on, “Not really. Exam preps kinda taken over my brain. Only came up with coming here last minute,” You laughed as he scrunched his nose up and leaned forward to retrieve the rest of your clothes, “let me guess...close and cheap?” “Pretty much. Hey!” “Sorry, couldn’t resist. You’ve got a cute bum,” “No need to pinch it!” he laughed, throwing your jeans at you, "Think I better take you home before you get any more ideas,” “Yeah alright, can’t sit here half-dressed forever. Chuck us my knickers would you?” Roger threw the underpants at you, laughing as he watched you wriggle back into them. Carefully he opened the door, sticking his head out to check the coast was clear before he climbed out and hurriedly pulled his jeans on. You did the same, trying to be as quick as possible, while Roger put the front seat back into position and went round to the driver's side.

The drive back to your street was comfortable, his hand again falling to your knee whenever it wasn’t on the gear stick, but this time there was no question of what it meant. You were still laughing at a joke he’d made when he walked you to your front door. “You wanna come in? I could make you a coffee if you want?” “I would but, early class.” “Oh yeah, forgot about that. You know, you live right next door though, could stay for a couple of hours at least. Or just stay the night and then jump the fence in the morning.” “I can’t believe I’m about to turn you down but I really can’t. I swear most days I’d say fuck the class but with the exams so close I can’t afford to miss it. And I know if I did stay, I wouldn’t want to leave.” “I get it. I should probably crack open a book before I turn in anyway,” “I’ll talk to you soon though, okay?” “Yeah, okay,” Roger wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug before laying a soft goodnight kiss against your lips. “You better go or else I’m going to ask you to stay again.” “G’night. And put some ice on that bump before you go to bed, okay?” “Goodnight Roger.”

#my writing #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor imagine #ya'll im so tired and i have no idea if this is any good #but i've been farting around with it for too long #i wanted to get it posted three days ago #but fuck me i guess #anyway #hopefully i can pull chapter 6 together relatively quickly #and get it posted before the end of the year #gonna try and get a few more of the 1k requests posted soon too

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hey-hamlet · 5 years ago

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BNHA AU Ideas: Power Transfer

Also on AO3!

TL;DR:

One for all is a power that has been passed down for generations. Turns out the most recent generation can afford to be a whole lot more liberal with his sharing. Also turns out sharing quirks runs in the family.

An AU where Izuku can share OFA full cowling with multiple people at once.

shared power ofa,

izuku giving aizawa 5% of one for all durring the usj or izuku giving toshinori 99% of OFA durring the last fight

cause consider the world never finding out about small might, all might retires but izuku knows

the rescue team all having the max amount of ofa they can use, which is around 2% each, cause a lil sparking team of heroes

izuku using kirishima to give bakugo some too n them using it to get away

izuku having two quirks is my favourite goddamn thing bc him being able to share his quirk but not having anything to share is great

he gives bits to allmight, like a constant 1% so he can teach classes and do press stuff

some rando wants to do an "all might" where is he now segment and it spans a good few months so izuku is continuously in the background just

conspiracy theory starts that izuku is a villain or allmights son

a villain and all might's son

izuku has no double toe joint but the doc cant find any evidence of a quirk? so he tells them izuku is either quirkless or has an invisible quirk. something subtle, or specific enough to have not activated by now

bakugo kinda,, is chill with izuku. he was waiting for izuku to develop a quirk till he judged him, but he never did so he kinda withheld judgement long enough for them to become decent friends

anyway, izuku likes to ramble about different things his quirk could technically be, bakugo likes to join in. they can go at this for h o u r s cackling about stupid hypotheticals

they workout together, they both do boxing and try out random moves they see on the internet on each other. they have a pile of gym mats in the woods like the weirdos they are

bakugo is like,, convinced izuku's quirk is actually an intellect up but he just shrugs

izuku has to grab something before he heads home so he takes the underpass and we get basically episode 1 from there. all might says no, the villain gets away, attacks Bakugo. izuku runs in, throws dust in the villain's eyes and pulls at bakugo's hands. all might jumps in, saves the day yada yada

some background for u about all might bc his past is a touch different here. during the battle with afo, afo was distracted. all might sustained the same injures but won more easily.

night eye never looks into his future because "my purpose is done, nighteye. let's live like everyone else, no fate of the world on our shoulders" he never looks into all mights future again at his request

they stay together

so instead of the big argument they go get ramen and get drunk because they don't have to be superhuman anymore, they can relax now

back to the main timeline-

so izuku is already fit, cleans the beach in 8 months, nighteye supervises

all might gives izuku the quirk 2 months before the entrance exam, nighteye is there to "oversee" (he wants to see izuku choke on a hair and laugh at this kid hes become pretty fond of)

also mirio! is izuku's bro because i love he

izuku eats the hair and gets the quirk like, instantly which?? is confusing nighteye and all might. nighteye has like,,, hidden behind a car because hes the only person with self-preservation

allmight touches izuku and the lightning climbs up his arm and he just pOofs out into swolmight. hes ShooK, so is izuku

anyway, he manages to turn it off and izuku is just standing there like "oh my god what the fuck"

"izuku,, what,, happened there"

",,,, one for all??? leaked out??? into allmight????"

...

"nighteye come over here."

"izukU nO"

"STAND STILL NIGHTEYE I JUST NEED TO TRY SOMETHING"

nighteye is forcibly given a little of ofa and regrets a lot of stuff

anyway, izuku breaks an arm trying to use ofa and hes muttering trying to work out how to use it, nighteye basically says "well, think back to how ofa came about" and izuku is like ",,, what"

and nighteye screams because TOSHI YOU DIDNT TELL HIM?????? and allmight ",,, o o p s"

so izuku gets to hear the story of all for one while hes being driven to UA for recovery girl hes,,, really quiet for a second

"when did you fight him?"

"six years ago, april?"

",,, this has to be a coincidence"

hisashi went out on a "business trip" 6 years ago and they haven't seen him since. he calls, but hes never visited and izuku has this terrible feeling

because izuku cant calm down and because nighteye thinks this kid might be on to something they call tsukauchi and he agrees to meet them at UA

izuku gets treated, naomasa is in v quickly afterwards before he calls his dad he turns to nighteye, allmight and Naomasa

"i've never been able to lie to my dad. i thought he was just really good at reading me but,,"

"if hes afo he might have a quirk"

"yeah. so i'll just twist the truth. im good at that, but thats all i'll be able to do"

anyway, he calls up his dad and slaps this big grin on his face. the phone is on speaker

"hey dad!!!!" "izuku! is something wrong?"

"oi, cant i call my dad for no reason?"

"you, willingly calling someone? dont make me laugh"

izuku giggles despite himself

"anyway, you'll never guess!!"

"did youuuu,,,, hmmmm, meet all might?"

they freeze but izuku just laughs

"yeah,, but thats not the most exciting thing!!! my quirk came in finally"

"oh?"

"yeah! imagine the worlds most basic power enhancer, but i can share the energy! you have any idea where that could have come from?"

"no! i can't think of anyone in our family with a quirk like that! sounds crazy!"

naomasa looks grin, and mouths "liar"

izuku pales but keeps his smile

"do you think you could visit, id love to show you!! oh, maybe we could test it together! you always had the best ideas for my quirk notes"

"id love to izuku, but im stuck in america for the near future, you know it is. i'll see what i can do tho, ok champ?"

naomasa shakes his head again "lying" izuku looks like hes going to be sick. nighteye is pale, all might looks stunned. izuku grits his teeth but his voice is still light and happy

"i'm gonna make it into UA so you can watch me kick butt from america! you better cheer me on!"

"im looking forward to it. say hi to your mother from me."

naomasa nods. hes telling the truth. that makes nighteye feel the sickest

"love you izuku"

",,, love you too dad"

izuku hangs up the phone and retches into the bin. nighteye is shaking. all might storms out. naomasa punches the wall

izuku looks up with tears in his eyes

",,, does my mum know?"

nighteye wants to cry

"i dont know kid"

izuku tells katuski that his quirk finally came in! but,,, in the worlds biggest mess of a way

basically hes lying in bed, trying to work out why he can't use it without breaking bones but the people he shares it with can, he bolts upright

"POWER MODULATION OH MY GOD"

he runs out his door all the way to bakugos house and climbs in through his window, grabbing a sleeping bakugo by the shoulders

"KACCHAN ITS POWER MODULATION"

"IZuKU whAt tHE fuCK"

"my quirk!!! i was breaking bones because i wasnt modulating it!!!"

",,,,q QUiRK/???/?"

",,,, oh yeah oops"

mitsuki runs in with a frying pan ready to murder a villain but its just izuku

"carry on"

izuku doesnt tell him its ofa but he explains his quirk has finally showed up, bakugo asks him if hes registered it yet

",,,noooooo"

"wait what? you, breaking the law? mister "i cant kill an ant because all might himself will call me a villain""

izuku, w the most shit-eating grin, explains that you only legaly have to register your quirk when it shows up, or after you are tested when you are five, whichever happens first so, legally, he doesnt need to register because it would be seen as voluntary updating

cut to the enterance exam

aizawa is holding the papers for the kids hes observing right then

"quirkless? that kid doesn't look quirkless"

and yagi sighs

"of course he didnt,,,"

"all might? do you know him?"

"NO NO IDEA WHO MID- THAT YOUNG CHILD IS"

",,,, r i g h t"

“aizawa listen i have never seen young midoriya in my life ever”

basically, izuku is hiding the "transfer" part of his power from most people bc hes stubborn and thinks it could be useful

also,,, in this au shinso makes it in on hero points thanks

bakugo is about to rush the 0 pointer but shinso can see its going to fall on him shinsou yells

"HEY FUCK FACE"

"HA-"

"MOVE MOVE MOVE GET OVER HERE BEFORE YOU FUCKING DIE OH MY GOD MOVE I DONT WANT TO SEE SOMEONE DIE TODAY"

shinsou and bakugou are the type of friends that flat out have no love for each other but would punch anyone who says anything bad abt the other. like shinsou walks into school and bakugou s just

“dammit i thought u fucking died smh”

“i wish i did then i wouldn’t have to look at ur ugly ass”

in this au shinso and izuku bond when they are standing outside they door bc izuku looks like hes gonna fucking cry hes so scared and shinsou is like "wow big mood"

shinso is not shinson in this au! bc izuku is gonna do a soft

basically, quirk test? shinsou is s w e a t i n g bakugo looks a little worried for his new friend but no one would notice if they weren’t izuku

shinsou turns to him like "my quirk is mental im going to fa I L"

izuku grabs his hand and he feels this rush of energy, you can almost see it dancing along his skin. izuku grins

"i think you'll find you do just fine"

(izuku gave him like,, less than a full 1% but hes like doubled in strength and speed and hes??? shook?? bc whats happening)

aizawa is lost bc shinso has a mental quirk he shouldnt be doing this well, so he tries to cancel it

nothing happens and aizawa is so lost??? bc shinsou is kinda reedy and not super fit but hes placing solidly in the middle

and he noticing that shinso’s eyes seem to be glowing and so are they eyes of the kid coming in second and gives a big "hm,mmmm"

anyway, ball pitch, he cancels izukus quirk and turns to look at shinso, his eyes are dim. izuku looks sheepish but also like hes ready to throw down and its an interesting look

aizawa just sighs "you know what? just throw the ball."

izuku g r i n s and yeets it into next year using more of his quirk than he like,, really should have? to prove a point (his finger is bruised, not broken. he used 25%)

anyway aizawa shows the results, shinso is in the middle, izuku second, hagakure is last and sadly shes not getting expelled bc plot reasons – im sorry I have a thing against her shes perfectly valid probably im just still convinced shes the traitor even tho its totally a teacher

he calls izuku out on it but does admit he didnt say you couldnt help eachother, so its kind on him. shinso looks like hes going to pass out with relief

Hagekure is the traitor in this au though, 100%

during the camp she is at the pick up zone, hiding. izuku pulls bakugo out of the way, they all seem safe

but

she pushes izuku in through the portal as it closes

fyi afo takes her quirk and leaves her braindead in the nomu factory bc shes not useful anymore. also because now he needs to have a really awkward conversation with his son he was hoping to avoid

also usj? is really melodramatic

he gives aizawa 4% which is the max nighteye could hold without it hurting

aizawa takes a hit from the nomu and he reaches out his hand

izuku cries as he gives him an extra 4% and aizawa gets free but he can see bruises forming with every step his teacher takes

#bnha au #bnha #aizawa shouta #aizawa #eraserhead #midoriya izuku #Izuku #Midoriya #shinsou hitoshi #All Might #yagi toshinori #Nighteye #bakugou katsuki #Class 1A #power transfer au

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voemae582 · 5 years ago

Text

The Truth Changes

Chapter 4: Is Blue Warm or Cold?

Let it be known, I wrote this chapter before I watched reflectdoll and Desperado. And I'm so angry with how Marinette and Adrien acted, but most importantly the writers... Enjoy. Also I post the story on my Fanfiction.net page under Voemae Patterson and on Wattpad under Tia_Patterson!

Meanwhile Chat Noir made his way across town and hid in an alley way to transform back. Plagg flew out of his ring in a panic.

"Plagg calm down, we need think of a plan, maybe she was bluffing and Ladybug is fine."

Plagg shook his head, "Kid this is serious, I can honestly tell you, she was telling the truth. We need to find Master. I have a feeling Tikki's with him, which is good."

"Tikki?" Adrien asked.

"No time to explain, lets go!" Plagg flew in the direction of Master Fu's massage place with Adrien close behind him.

They took back streets and alleys to avoid any Marionettes in the area. It didn't take long before they finally reached their destination and took cover inside where they were greeting by Wayzz. They entered the massage room to find Master Fu and Tikki talking. Adrien saw the polka doted Kwami and put two and two together. It was Ladybugs Kwami.

"Tikki!" Plagg shouted and he wasted no time flying to her side. "What happened?"

Master Fu put his attention to Adrien who was still confused. Where was Ladybug? Why didn't she have her kwami? "Adrien, come and sit."

"Master Fu, Marinette, she's the girl akumatized. She's my friend."

He nodded. "Yes, well without Ladybug we're in quite the predicament."

Adrien clenched her fists and grit his teeth, "Please entrust me with saving them both."

"Everyone whos fought alongside you has been turned into a puppet." He stroked his little beard and turned his head away from Adrien and whispered, "She must've done that on purpose."

"What?"

"It's nothing." He waved his hand to signal there was nothing to worry about.

Tikki, Plagg and Wayzz sat at the middle of the table. "Oh Master, it's not her fault! We must save her from being a puppet." Tikki chose her words carefully as to not reveal Marinette was Ladybug.

"I understand the situation. Ladybug knew she would be caught, and purposely took out her earrings to prevent Hawkmoth from finding her using the connection between the akumatized." He pondered for a moment and the room fell silent with thinking. "But," He broke the silence. "I can not ignore the fact that she did fall into this situation."

"Master?" Wayzz questioned.

"Don't worry, I chose her for a reason, that being said I have to wonder what she'll do. Or if she can snap out of it."

"I know she will." Adrien stood up. "Because she's Ladybug." They all looked up at him as he radiated the confidence he lacked a moment ago. "I'll focus on snapping Marinette out of it, try and find the item that's been akumatized then free her. But, Chat Noir can't catch the akuma, or fix what's been destroyed. Master Fu, please let me use the Ladybug miraculous."

Fu stood and turned to get more tea, "Absolutely not. It's far too risky."

"But-!"

"But this may be our only sound option right now. As for the cat miraculous, you cant use both at the same time. And I don't feel good having both miraculous near each other while you're fighting. I suppose I could also-" Just then a crack echoed in the room. His age was catching up to him and he cracked his back... As always Wayzz was worried for the master and helped him sit back down with the tea. "We almost lost the Bee miraculous once, we can't afford making these same mistakes." He shook his head, he knew he wouldn't be much help, but he couldn't do it alone. "We need to move location, she might come here."

"Why would she come here?" Adrien asked. The Kwami's looked at Fu to make an excuse.

Fu cleared his throat. "Your friend Marinette, yes, um she, she's been in my shop before, to get a muscle relaxer!" Not his best moment but he was going to roll with it. "You know how kids are these days, stressed about school and such. So I gave her an old Chinese remedy to help her out... Of course she still seems a bit clumsy..."

Adrien chuckled at the last comment. "No, that's just her."

Fu saw his sincere smile as he thought about her. "I see.." He smiled. "Well, lets move location of the box carefully first, then get a plan started."

"I've got an idea." And so it was decided where the box would be moved to...

Half an hour later after mast Fu settled Adrien transformed back into Chat Noir. "Until we figure this out, I'll go and patrol the surrounding area. I need to help those who have not been caught."

"What ever you do, don't go looking for her." He warned him.

"Which one?" He joked before leaving the building.

Master Fu saw as his Chat Noir figure jumped over a building. "The only one."

"Oh master... What should we do?" Tikki hovered next to him looking out the window.

"Where there's a will, there's a way." he sighed. "For all our sakes, we can only wait and see if she has a stronger will then the darkness in her heart."

About twenty minutes past and Chat Noir saved a few hand fills of civilians and hid them from the akuma. He made sure to stay low and out of sight trying not to cause a scene. All the while he was trying to think of a plan. He was alone, without his Lady. He was worried, but he didn't know for who more. Marinette or Ladybug?

It was already night and the stars were bright. a lot of the city lights were off because there were people hiding. For the most part if Porcelain had no need for them, the marionettes had free will to go home or do anything they wanted as long as the didn't rebel they could live a normal life as a porcelain doll. Until she needed them that is, and took control of their body's again. The brightest lights were the Eiffel tower, which is where Chat Noir assumed Marinette was based. The day had been the longest time anyone has ever been under an akuma's affects and trance before.

No one knew what was supposed to happen next. Where was Ladybug, the hero of Paris? The Parisians began to worry. Every time that day Chat was asked where she was or heard a rumor of her disappearance he quickly retorted it stating she was well and they were just thinking of a plan.

He returned to his mansion per master Fu's request for the night. Adrien wanted eagerly to go and try talking to Marinette but was stopped every time by Plagg. He agonized over the thought of pain and suffering she was feeling, alone. Plus he was scared sooner or later Ladybug would break, not that she would ever lie.

Checking on his father was impossible since the Gorilla stood outside his bedroom room and Natalie probably wouldn't let him into the office. Little did he know his father was better then okay. Because he had finally found a suitable victim to capture all the miraculous.

In his lair Hawkmoth reveled in the army before him. "Your progress is taking much longer then I expected, but you told the truth, Ladybug hasn't shown her face yet. Meaning you did capture her, and Chat Noir's the only one left. He is the only one left, right?"

Far from the Agreste Manor, sitting at the very top of the Eiffel tower looking at the night sky above her was Porcelain. "Yes, I assume he'll be no trouble. And before you ask again, I do not know where to find the guardian of the box." She technically wasn't lying, she didn't know where master Fu could be, its not 100% certain he'll be at his home. She knew how to manipulate her powers so she wouldn't crack.

Suddenly she felt a pain and all her muscles stiffened making her feel weak. "If you're lying to me I will take away your victory!" Hawkmoth threatened her.

"Why- argh!" She struggled to talk with the pressure he forced on her. "-would I-ugh, why would I lie to you!?" He finally released her letting her gasp for air.

"If I find out you were lying to me or are plotting something, not only will I take everything away from you, but I'll get a professional to do it instead." He chuckled. "You might know her. She tends to fib a bit."

If Porcelain wasn't wearing a mask you'd see the anger in her eyes and her teeth ready to break from clenching them to hold her tongue. "Lila." She hissed through her teeth.

"Correct. Instead of getting your revenge on her I'll replace you with her. So don't forget your end of the deal."

Marinette felt a stab in her heart. Even Hawkmoth preferred Lila. Why was she not good enough? "Why would you trust a liar like her?"

"Of course I don't trust her you fool, but she'll do her job. And who knows, after she does get me what I want perhaps she'll become even more adored with her lies then you'll ever be with the truth."

"Forget you! I'll get you what I promised by using my powers for their own good!" She stood up and yelled at the sky. "I can't concentrate with you nagging in my ear!"

"I'll check back later." Back in the lair Hawkmoth cut the communication with Porcelain. "Dark wings fall!" And turned back into his formal attire as Gabriel Agreste. "Natalie, I may need your assistance tomorrow." He turned around to face Natalie who held a clipboard to her chest never showing more then a poker face.

"Of course. I would be happy to, sir."

"Right, go get some rest, it'll take a toll on you tomorrow."

She shook her head. "I'm fine, I've had all nighters before doing work, but you should get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow. I'll watch over things for the night."

Back at the tower Porcelain looked over the Paris buildings to a small shop with it's lights still on. It was her parent's bakery. They were still up so late. She had the urge to go and visit them, but something stopped her. She was ashamed.

"Damn it." She held her head in her hands and cursed at the world. It all seemed so unfair.

Last month she was adored by her friends and she adored them. Marinette was hanging out with everyone, and sure, once in awhile Lila would tell a lie, but she learned to ignore it. Over time she just left Lila alone and avoided her as long as it didn't affect anyone, but now, how did she end up like this. Her mind got foggy and her memories blurred together. She could only remember the bad parts.

Porcelain had forgotten the good inside of Marinette, and it scared her, not because she couldn't remember anything good, but because she didn't actually care. She couldn't even remember how her morning started. It had only been hours ago but she couldn't think of her parent's and their kind words. What she did remember was Lila. The lies. Alya ditching her in her time of need. Adrien's rejection. Her parent's pitying her. Ladybug.

Oh lord Ladybug. It was always Ladybug. Even Chat Noir prefers Ladybug. Adrien would probably prefer Ladybug. Alya would prefer Ladybug. Her parent's would be better off with a daughter like Ladybug.

Porcelain stopped gripping her skull with anger and let her arm frail onto her knee. She was Ladybug. But Ladybug wasn't her. No, she used to be Marinette. And Marinette is no Ladybug. Marinette's clumsy, a coward and a complete mess. Over a boy. A boy who didn't even like her. Or notice her. She was just a friend. She was a nobody. A wanna be fashion designer.

Marinette was always good at over thinking things, but Porcelain was the queen of over thinking.

A tear appeared from the dark hole of the mask where the eye should be and rolled down the porcelain surface. All her terrible negative feelings came crawling into her heart. Her chest hurt, it felt like something was pulling at her heart strings until they snapped. A punch in the gut. Her head ached and felt like it was on fire and going to explode. Water leaked from her eyes. She shook all over and couldn't breath. She was panicking. She hated this feeling of helplessness. This feeling of depression and anxiety. Eating at every nerve and cell in her body, until she snapped.

And she screamed.

A burst of red deflected from her like a ring of fire around her and widened until it disappeared into the night. She hunched and tried to calm herself. At this moment she knew she messed up. Hawkmoth had increased her emotions of betrayal before he went to bed leaving her to wallow in self loathing. She had no choice but to blame others.

Time had passed and she was walking around on the tower trying to control her emotions and also devising her plan while sewing a scarf together using the red thread she possessed. She had puppets guarding the castle.

"M'Lady." a Marionette approached her.

"Speak, but do not call me that." She ordered him still continuing to make the scarf.

"Several Marionettes whom are not under your control at the moment have asked for an audience with the great poupée de porcelaine."

"Very well."

A few moments later Nino, Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Ivan and even Luka appeared before her. They stood in front of her and She could tell by their faces what they wanted to say. This small group was made up of Kitty Section. The band Marinette designed for. Her closes friends other then Alya.

Nino was outwardly distraught making him the first to burst out his feelings. "How could you do that to Alya!"

Rose and Juleka stood on both sides of him and held his arms as if he would try to attack Porcelain. "This isn't what we practiced" Rose tried to calm him down.

Apparently practicing and deciding what they would tell her ahead of time was the plan to convince her to stop. Little did they know, the longer Marinette was under the Akuma's control the more she lost herself. It had already been too long for logic and reason to save her.

Ivan stepped forward and started first. "Marinette, we're sorry. All of us. We knew you didn't like Lila for some reason but we didn't take your feelings into consideration and hung out with her."

Porcelain's eye twitched in annoyance. "You think this is because I didn't want you guys to hangout with someone I don't like?" She cracked her neck and continued. "True I despise Lila, and I didn't want anyone to hangout with her, but that's because she's a liar, and constantly tortures me, not because I just don't like her! Marinette wasn't so shallow she'd try to monopolize you guys!" She took the wooden controls from her side pockets and the thread connected to Nino and pulled him in front of her.

"Nino!"

Nino could still talk and looked her in the eyes. "I thought we were friends?"

Knowing Hawkmoth went to bed Porcelain got close to his ear so no one would hear her, and she whispered in Nino's ear, "Are you secretly Carapace?"

"H-how did you-?"

She asked more loudly so everyone could hear, "Are you? Answer the question!"

"N-No!" He gulped.

"Perfect." Porcelain watched his arm start cracking until it just shattered revealing a wooden surface. She let him go giving him free will.

Nino stepped backward away from her and tripped falling on his back. "AAARUGH!!" He yelled in pain. It felt like every bone in his body shattering even though it was just his arm. The pain continued for what seemed forever. He finally bit his tongue on the pain and sat up gripping his wooden left arm.

He had control of his body except for his left arm that was now wood. "What's happening!? I only told one lie! I shouldn't have shattered anything! It should just be a crack, right!?" He yelled at her confused and scared. The others ran to aid him.

"So you admit you lied to me." She started to walk in a circle around them and their eyes followed her every move.

"What's going on with his arm!?" Mylene spoke up.

She sighed, "True, a lie would usually only give you a crack, but, the bigger the lie, the more severe the injury." She winked. "Don't you wanna know what I asked him?"

Luka stood up, "Marinette, this isn't you."

Again telling her who she was. People just couldn't take a hint. "My names Not Marinette!" She yelled and took control of them making them stand in a line. "It's poupée en porcelaine! Now leave before I decide to shatter you all." She demanded more then requested. With a point of the finger she forced them to walk out.

"Wait!" Luka pleaded as his legs led him to the elevator. "Marinette! Please, wait, I just want to talk!"

She froze them for a second. The were in mid stepping pose facing the opposite direction of her. Staring at his back she asked, "If you stay here you'll be broken one way or the other. Are you willing To risk the damage?"

Juleka tried to look at her brother, "Luka, don't."

Luka had a soft smile on his face. "Sorry Jules, you'd do the same for Rose."

"Touching..." Porcelain mocked. "Your answer?"

"Yes. I'm okay with that." He spoke louder.

Porcelain walked up to him and examined him for any crack. He was telling the truth. She snapped her fingers and the rest of them walked to the elevator and left. She took away their speech temporarily so they wouldn't interfere until they left.

For the next minute they stood in silence just looking at each other. She wondered what he was looking at her for, what was he trying to find. She focused on his eyes. They were a clear blue, not like hers, his were deeper. Clear with no clutter. Why were his blue eyes so... Warm?

"Cold." He muttered.

Porcelain snapped out of her thoughts, "What?"

"I finally caught a glimpse of you're eyes behind the mask, when the light hits you just right, and they were cold."

She covered the eye he was focused on and turned her face slightly to hide her other. "Blue is cold."

He realized how rude that might've sounded. "No sorry." He scratched the back of his head and looked at the ground. "It's just that, your eyes are usually so warm."

For a second she thought he read her mind. Her eye brows furrowed and she made him stand up straight and look at her. "What nonsense are you spouting? Everyone knows blue is a cold, cold color."

He stood quietly and let her make her point. Studying her actions and moves. Trying to find an ounce of Marinette. He focused on her every detail. Her perfectly place hair in a bun with a red ribbon. The intricate detail on her dress. The carefully placed paint strokes on her mask and especially the way you can see her expression through her eyes.

"Do you ever dislike being in a band with your little sister, and her friends?"

Luka was caught off guard by the question. "What? No, of course not. I love my sister and her friends are mine too." No cracks, he was telling the truth.

"Really? You never feel childish being around them?"

"No they're awesome." He smiled knowing he had nothing to hide.

Porcelain grunted. "Do you even have friends outside of them?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I see them all the time."

"Ever wish you lived in a house like normal people?"

"I love living in a boat."

The two of them went back and fourth for quite a while. Porcelain started to run out of questions. She asked petty things like fights with Juleka, or stealing candy when he was young. Despite his looks he wasn't really a 'bad boy'. He was sweet and kind and honest. She hated it.

"There's got to be something you don't want to admit to! So admit it!" She was getting frustrated. "There's got to be something you lie about. And I'm going to find out."

He went silent and thought about something. Porcelain noticed he was hiding something. She was about to confront him with more questions, but he beat her to the punch. "I never want to lie to the girl I like."

She taken aback. "What? Who?"

"Marinette." He said confidently.

"You're a liar, no one likes a nobody." She wasn't convinced.

"I do." He breathed. "Because to me, she's not a nobody. She's-"

"Like an everyday Ladybug, nice, good, perfect and all that crap!" She turned around as to not face him.

"No." He replied. "Ladybug isn't perfect. I don't know her personally so I can't say much about her personality. But no ones perfect or good at everything. Especially Marinette."

She felt a tug at her heart and the corners of her lips weigh down.

"Marinette isn't perfect, she's clumsy, and stammers, and sometimes it's like she's always in her head."

"You've made your point-"

"But I love that about her. She might fall a lot, but that only means I get to catch her. Her stammering is the cutest thing I've ever heard. And to be able to look at her when she's lost in thought is the greatest privilege I can have." He smiled and you could hear the passion of his words. "She has all the qualities of a super hero, but that's just one part of her, she's also an amazing girl."

"Stop it." She gripped both her upper arms.

"Her designs are incredible! She works hard and deserve every good thing in her life. She apologizes even if she's not in the wrong. And she's honest to a fault, that makes her unique because now a days there's nobody that honest. She tries to help those in need. She messes up, but she she'll try again until everything's fixed."

"I said enough!" She turned around waved her hand violently and took his speech away. She stomped in front of him only three inches from his face. "These are all lies!" She aimed her sight down and he mouthed something to her. 'I love you'.

She backed up and held her fists at her side. "Why aren't you breaking!?" She shouted almost pleading. For some reason she was running away from love. Perhaps she didn't deserve it. "Lie!" Her voice got shaky and she got close to him and he mouthed it again. she hit his chest with her palms and her forehead landed on his chest. "Lies! All of them!" While one hand hit him repeatedly, the other slowly reached for her mask and slid it off letting her take a deep shaky breath.

Without knowing she had let control of him go and felt his arms wrap around her. "I love you, Marinette." And she let his chin rest on her head. "You're the song playing in my head, and the rhythm my heart beats too." There they stood on the Eiffel tower, embraced in each others cold china hold, with the warmest blue eyes.

"No.." A whisper was barely heard.

"Did you-" Luka started say before being pushed away.

He caught a glance at her face without the mask, her sapphire eyes glossed over with denial, and there was a notable break under her left eye.

"Marinette wha-?"

"My. Names. Not. Marinette!" With a wave of her hand she made him leave, immediately. As soon as she could no longer see him she fell to her knees and hung her head. "Damn it..." The lights of the Eiffel tower then turned off as if on que.

The next day was sure to be chaotic.

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 5 years ago

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So I’m finally getting around to writing out a bunch of info about my Sander Sides au so I hope youre all ready--(its like 1 am im so sorry for any spelling mistakes and missed tags)

So its 1 am on a work night and I cant sleep and I’ve had lots of ideas and canon things for this au bouncing around my head for days and now TONIGHTS THE NIGHT ITS HAPPENING IM DELIVERING YOU ALL THE DETAILS AND EVERYTHING I CAN THINK OF AND TYPE

Also please feel free to ask about this! I know I got a few new followers from all my recent sander sides art and also thanks to @sugarglider9603 reblogging some art I made of their au I got the biggest flood of exposure and attention on my art ive ever had and I have so much to thank them for, for all recent exposure ive gotten the past couple days( theyre so sweet and lovely and easy to talk to sugar deserves all the love--) and its given me a huge surge of motivation and confidence to post this. And please, my inbox is always open to talk about my aus or my art! Ask questions, send requests, send headcanons or ideas, send fluff angst im open to anything and I try to do all requests sent to me(sooner or later)

Oh oh! and please id you catch any and all the little inspirations or anything let me know

And finally this au is a LAMP au with Remile and Demus on the side

Ahem ahem anyway onto the au!!!

More under the cut so I dont flood your screen too bad!

Ok so!

This Au was originally inspired by @residentanchor‘s amazing fanfic A Lesson in Practicality and also a little bit by @prettyinaccurate‘s fanged virgil au( I’ll get more into that further down)

So it takes place in a (currently) unnamed bigger city I based off San Francisco and Sacramento( because I live in Cali and those are the two major cities ive really visited ya know?) The boys are all in various stages of their twenties when they move into a four bedroom apartment together: Patton Foster is the oldest of the roomies at 27, then Logan Masters at 26, Roman Prince at 24, and finally Virgil Collins at 22. They move in together because it all works out for them really, the apartment is in a good distance to all their current jobs, whether by bus or even in Pat’s case in walking distance and with all four of them it was well affordable and was pretty nice. I mean hey it even came with a little communal balcony ( since theyre on third floor of the building)

Things are understandably a little rocky at first , i mean isnt it always though?

Virgil has alot of anxiety and so he tends not to talk really at all at the beginning unless he ABSOLUTELY had to, mostly communicating in noncomittal noises and soft grumbles, and he was fresh out of collage and barely two years into his job and out on his own for the first time and he wasnt really ready for it either like christ too many people

Patton was bright bubbly and caring. This wasnt his first rodeo with roomies, I mean cmon, hes been sharing a room with his older brother Damian(deceit) on and off almost all his freakin life, nor was it his first time living on his own with strangers(hes lived in two different parts of two when he was job hopping before he settled down in his current part time job)

Roman was extroverted loud and exciteable, he too was used to sharing his living space( he had TWO siblings after all) and before he had moved into the apartment he had tried living on his own and with other roommates while he attended collage, but those just didnt work out well ( he ended up staying with his older brother Remy in his studio apartment across the city while he finished out that semester and searched for a job to keep an income.

Logan was serious minded stern toned and confident, he had a minor degree in teaching that he was slowly repursueing and had been out on his own for awhile before he had moved in. And though cold at first he soon found his group of housemates...enjoyable.

Its about a month into them living together that they learn exactly why despite slowly getting close and getting to know each other Virgil still kept a wide distance: He had entirely sharp teeth.

“ I dunno....I was born with them..theyve always been a sharp pain in my ass...” - virgil, about his teeth

Of course just having sharp teeth wasnt bad enough oh no. You see a few years back when he was about 18 he was young and dumb and made horrifically stupid and reckless decisions under peer pressure and ended up doing something that not only pointedly (haha oh god im not funny) chipped his front teeth but it fucked up his teeth pretty majorly, he went from having a normal overbite to almost having a goddamn underbite and crooked all his teeth, and the only way to fix it( because somehow miraculous for all the damage done it turned out to be mostly reversable aside from the chipping) was getting braces to realign his teeth. So he’s had pretty purple braces over his fangs since he was 18 and they werent expected to come off until he was AT LEAST 25 and he was insecure about them. ( he got mocked for them through his two and a half years of junior collage)

Once the gang finds out they are understanding and helpful and dont make a big deal about it( though virgil gains a significant amount of more vampire related nicknames from roman)

Once they get close and comfortable around each other the apartment is pretty warm and lively!

Virgil works at the art store as an assistant manager and head stocker( a bit of a dream come true since he was an art student)

Roman works as a part time waiter at a family resturant as well as working at a nearby theater( he was of course a lovely theater major)

Patton worked at a nearby cafe and bakery as a bit of everything! He helped wait tables, serve behind the counter, and helped in the back in the kitchen( the owners were family friends and he’d been working there almost four to five years at that point, boi knows how to do everything)

Logan worked at a big name bookstore, and also provided tutoring sessions for highschool students on the side by commision

More FACTS~~

Family ages for the big families go as follows:

Fosters: Damian(28), Patton(27)

Prince: Remy(26), Roman(24, older twin by 10 minutes), Remus(24, younger twin)

Emile is 27 and is a licensed therapist and works as a counselor for young adults that volunteers at the nearby library to ready to children

Remy works as a coffee barista in Emile’s building

Remus does alot of odd jobs, kinda working as an independent for hire and gets a surprising steady flow of work and pay. Hes still a trash man though, but hes a successful trash man( partly thanks to Damian calling in favors with connections)

Damian works at a law firm slowly moving into the position of prosecutor

Virgil doesnt really get along with his family and at some point Emile offers to take virgil in as his adopted brother, with Damian assuring him if he wanted concrete legal papers to start changing his last name, cutting ties with his family, anything needed for it he’d see to it that they’d be providing(something our boi really appreciates)

Remy visits Emile on his breaks since hes literally just...two hallways down and vice versa

Damian and Remus live together in the next, slightly smaller city over because Damian’s work transferred him to a different office in order for him to keep moving up in the ranks so to speak.

Hes also good at what he does.

Family nights happen whenever they can

Patton got to teach them how to cook alot of complicatied dishes from scratch, a bonding time he adores

Roman got Virgil an Espeon hoodie after they all start dating and virgil loves it and wears it alot around the house because its a thicker hoodie and warm( though he tries to ignore the big ears and the obnovious tail

Virgil also loves visiting Roman’s work on what Ro likes to refer to as “ hellish days” AKA kids day which means goofy kid friendly theme days. His favorite was probably alice in wonderland day when Roman was Tweedle Dee

Roman played J.D at the local theater and likes to hum some of the his songs to switch up the Disney

The balcony is covered in houseplants and and a corner of old blankets and pillows to sit and chill on

Once a month Logan and Patton have what is affectionately referred to as the Cat Discourse

After any particularly rough days at work Patton tends to massage Logan’s shoulders and back to make sure Lo doesnt get any really bad stress knots

in return when Logan sees Patton’s head a hard day he makes Patton’s favorite drink and pulls him into a hug and let the older man fall asleep in his arms while they watch movies

Pat and roman sense each other’s bad days and order in some cliche diner food and hole up in pattons room with Pattons computer and relax the shittiness away with comedy specials and movies

Likewise Virgil has a knack of picking up Roman’s bad days and always grabs a couple glasses and a bottle kinda cheap wine and they end up curling up together on Romans bed marathoning Disney movies on Virgil’s laptop

and when Virgil closes himself off more than normal Logan manages to lure him out of his room and they end up sitting out on the balcony quietly talking and stargazing

so loving and fond and soft with each other

you hurt one of them you gonna get BEAT by the others.

Speaking of getting beat, never EVER mess with Roman or Remus in Remy’s proximity

Remy Andrew Prince can and WILL fuck you right up if you hurt his little brothers. He’s protective.

and where Remy will rearrange your face Damian will ruin you mentally and legally if you so much as mistreat a single freckle on his little brother’s face, despite knowing that Patton is fully capable of taking care of himself.

Everyone protects Virgil, dont mess with or hurt virgil or you have the pack coming for ya throat

aaaaaaaaaaaaaand thats all I have for right now! Of course more will be added but now its almost three in the morning and I have work at 1:30pm and im sleepy finally! But I hope you guys like this! And please, feel free to talk to me about it, my inbox is always open!!

Taglist: @phantommoonpeople @sweetsweetemo @loganberrysanders

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softjeon · 6 years ago

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Love Bite | Character Sheet

↳ This Character Sheet holds background Info on all the Characters of the story ‘Love Bite’ written by @cassiavioletblue & @softjeon

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / Final Total Words: 126.568k ↳ AO3

In the following notes you can find every info that we used/gathered before and over the course of writing the story ‘Love Bite’ and therefore holds more information about the characters and potential story lines that we didn’t write out or just hinted at in the main story. You can find the gifset trailer to the story here.

Vampires:

their bodies are warm and with a beating heart as long as they are well fed; the less human blood they drink the lower the beating gets

they cant feed off of other vampires, biting is only for sexual purposes or hurting someone

silver = allergic reactions

abilities: enhance speed, healing on their own (only when they are well fed or else it takes time), heightened senses, hypnotization

draw strength from the moonlight

vampire blood is like a poison for humans that make them euphoric and go into a erratic state so they don’t feel the pain. Their saliva has biochemical compounds that suppresses the pain the victim would normally feel when bitten, instead it makes the victim feel relaxed (and if they are exposed to it for longer the victim gets euphoric)

They can be seen in mirrors (as the myth “vampires don’t reflect” comes from a time in which mirrors still had silver in them. Nowadays that’s not a problem anymore)

they can live about a week without blood, before they start to starve, after a month without blood they dry up and die eventually (the only exception is when they rest; they can fall into a energy saving mode like Yoongi does when he wants to sleep for a century or two)

can walk in the sun, it only weakens them if they haven’t drunk enough so it dries them up faster; they can get headaches from it

don’t care about garlic or crosses, it’s a lie to make humans believe that vampires could be easily detected, just like the myths that they only hunt at night.

every vampire has some kind of useful ability, but only a few have rare one’s like Namjoon who can transform himself into a bat

they can will their teeth to protrude, but it's also an involuntary reaction when they get into dangerous situations, get frightened, hungry or really aroused etc.

Underground!vampires:

think that humans should be cattle/ slaves to the vampires

are mostly “new generation” vampires (in the story they are represented by MonstaX)

want to live out in the open because their belief is that vampires are from higher race and shouldn’t have to hide from humans, but reign over them.

want to overthrow Hoseok; since he wants to live hidden and with little damage to humanity; even though Hoseok uses humans as food as well

Namjoon:

got turned in the 17th century

he was left alone after he had been turned, his maker had never been around so he could never create a bond between himself and his maker vampire. It made it harder for him to understand what was going on, so he followed his instincts and his hunger, leaving him to become a ‘monster’ as Namjoon describes it himself until Yoongi found him and took him in. Yoongi became something like his second-maker. He taught him about the rules, the king and the hierarchy of vampires but Namjoon’s came up with his morals all by myself (Yoongi will refuse to have anything to do with something disgusting as drinking from blood bags).

became head of department in Hoseok’s company;

likes routine and everything in order

has a lot of strength, with which he accidentally destroys things from time to time, so everyone in the office thinks he has aggressive outbursts and is afraid of him

can transform himself into a bat, but loses his clothes each time, so he wouldn't use it too often only if he flies home or is in danger (only very few vampires in the world can do this, because you need absolute control of yourself)

hates hypnotizing people (and is actually bad at it) because he thinks that humans should not be treated like lesser beings and that them and vampires can live alongside each other

holds on tightly to his morals and beliefs; believes that humans should have the right to refuse to not be a ‘blood bag’ and should willingly accept the offer if it’s made by a vampire. He definitely annoyed Hoseok many times before and presented him with new rules and ways of living alongside of the humans. As much as Hoseok is annoyed by it, he considered a few to make it easier for them to live in the new century. He cherishes his friend and his great mind and thinking

has secretly wished for a companion for years now; someone that wants to really stay by his side despite him being a vampire

Jimin:

got transferred at his own request into the city and began working for Namjoon’s department

has no family left, but finds a good friend in student!intern!Tae

is scared easily, though when he gets really angry and frustrated not even Namjoon likes to fight with him

in his mid!twenties

he always worked in economics

is a loner; he only has Taehyung and even when he still lived on the countryside he mostly kept to himself and his ex-boyfriend

Vampire!Jimin:

Namjoon will tell everyone that Jimin is the most beautiful vampire he has ever seen

Namjoon is his companion and maker

his ability: manipulate emotions of others

will want Namjoon to dethrone Hoseok one day, so the vampires will finally have a good, caring leader

he never leaves Namjoon’s side

drinks off of other humans that allow him to take their blood (sometimes even Jungkook, if Taegi allows it) after discussing the pro’s and con’s with Namjoon for days

Taehyung:

goofy, happy, supportive

loves to go out and have fun, but also to stay in with Jimin and drink wine to just chat about “Mr. Kim’s best features”

he sometimes forces Jimin to go out with him, so “the older” can “get some”

one night when they were both too drunk and too horny they ended up having sex; but it was giggly, clumsy and not very satisfying and both promised to never talk about it again and definitely not repeat it. It says a lot about their friendship that it didn’t get awkward between them afterwards - and this is why Taehyung knows how it feels like to kiss Jimin.

Vampire!Taehyung:

he swore he fell in love with Yoongi the second he saw him, though Yoongi tries to tell him it was only the bond reacting

always wants to do human stuff, too and therefore gets into sticky situations that Yoongi needs to get him out of like trying to do a picnic with the humans but ends up throwing it all up

very needy and clingy when it comes to Yoongi but in a quieter way; he loves holding his hand

though he is a young vampire and thirsting for blood more than others, he is really good at controlling himself when it comes down to human!Jimin

his ability: can run so fast that others are moving in slow motion to him

Hoseok:

he was “born” as a vampire in ancient egypt

the oldest vampire to date

owns basically the whole city since he has business with all leading companies and some politicians (that he hypnotized)

he makes the rules and the vampires follow him since he’s the oldest

feeds off Jin and Jin only

his ability: hypnotizing people and vampires alike, controlling them so completely that he can make them feel the pain at his will instead of the pleasure of the poison; he is the only vampire who can hypnotize vampires

thinks humans are weak, but loves Jin with all of his heart

he is very strict with his rules, so no vampire gets exposed

can come off as cruel (maybe….just a little bit)

Jin:

He stumbled across Hoseok one night when he was out in the night. He was never scared of Hoseok, nor did he knew that he was the vampire king at first when he came with him

he dislikes the human world and is happy being surrounded by people who respect him because he’s the king's personal favorite

has bite marks all over his body - and loves it

Jin will be turned by Hoseok later in his life, when he decides he has “reached his peak in his beauty” so that he wants to stay forever like this with his love

Yoongi:

sleeps a lot and only wakes up to feed in between; he says this century is too boring for him and only when he meets Taehyung he has a reason to stay awake

one of the oldest (Hoseok > Yoongi > Namjoon)

his ability: manipulating memories of humans

he’s very possessive over Taehyung the moment Hoseok grants him ownership of the human

normally he likes to be a sub with young vampires, letting them ride out their neediness but with Taehyung he wants to dominate the younger completely.

His protectiveness awakes and something is different about this one, which he only later realizes is because he lost his heart to Tae instantly

Tae: “He doesn’t say it and he didn’t really ask me out like that but I think he’s my boyfriend!” Yoongi: *grumbles*

Jungkook:

student, who lives a bit out of town because he couldn’t afford himself an expensive apartment in the city and somehow the houses by the hill are so cheap and beautiful at the same time, leaving him wondering why no one is living there or wants to buy it

innocent bun stumbling all doe-eyed into the danger without knowing what he was getting himself into

loves his banana milk and would do anything for it, even if it means getting bitten by vampires and at the same time wouldn’t get the “I want to bite you” hint even if Taehyung spells it out for him

the only human that was allowed to leave the mansion again, when normally humans that stumble upon them will never be released again

Jungkook definitely comes back, because the curiosity will get the better of him

might be their human friend/pet/lover ...depending on who you ask in the future ;)

Headcanons/ What might be happening next…:

Namjoon and Jimin will take the time, after the younger has gotten used to his new life, to travel around the world

Jimin is the only vampire who is really allowed to tease and call Hoseok names and the king doesn’t take actions since Hoseok won’t ever harm Jimin again as he keeps his promises to Namjoon

Namjoon will show Jimin all of the places he loved and where he was born (as a human)

they will always have one of the strongest bonds that anyone has ever seen and even when usually the ‘newborn’ bond fades out, their bond stays strong and makes them more aware of each other - which Namjoon loves, since he still has the urge to protect Jimin at all costs; their love will be eternal

Yoongi and Taehyung take in Jungkook and “take care of him”

Jungkook loves his vampire friends

One day Namjoon will stumble into the kitchen seeing Jungkook sipping on his banana milk, seated on Yoongi’s lap who only grins at the other with blood dripping down his chin, while Taehyung takes a sip from Jungkook’s delicious thighs. He will only shake his head and turn around again. “You really don’t want to go in there right now.” (Namjoon to Jimin)

Jin and Hoseok will retire one day to go back to egypt; normally Yoongi would be next in line but the other refuses so Namjoon is up for debate

Thank you for reading the story and becoming a part of it with all of your lovely comments and messages. They always keep us motivated and going and we can’t wait to share new stories with you guys. We’re currently working hard on something new and then there’s still ‘Devils Hand’ where the last chapter will be posted next week. Thank you for everything!💕💕💕

- Cat (@cassiavioletblue) & Jey (@softjeon)

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