#started this while waiting for my cat to get professionally groomed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arty-shadow-morningstar · 4 years ago

Text

A Failed Betrothal (4)

Am I doing this right? I mostly do write this when I am between the state of sleep and awareness. Hope you enjoy this.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1) (Part 3)

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

PART 4

Marinette came to a dungeon cell with two other prisoners. One of them was awake and he looked vaguely familiar. The other had an ugly red helmet that didn’t help with the headache she had.

“Do you know where we are?” She asked the handsome stranger with beautiful green eyes, her throat a little dry.

Wait. Handsome?

No bad Marinette. Don’t fall for fellow prisoners, no matter how cute he looks. Oh Kwamis, she was already screwed.

He still hadn’t replied. Maybe he didn’t understand French. She tried to ask again in another language before her enhanced hearing picked up the sound of footsteps. She faked unconsciousness. Later, she heard the iron door open. She looked through the tiniest slits of her eyes she could muster while the two held a staring/glaring match. Oh shit, that’s the fame Talia Al Ghul, daughter of Ra’s, head of the League of Shadows, and the boy she was glaring at had some resemblance to her, so he must be her son, Dennis? Daniel? Damon?

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

Ohh..Damian. Where had she heard that name before?

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Ouch, that hurts. Well, Damian, just because I forgot your name does not mean you can call me a little girl. I can also kill you very easily and painfully.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Red Helmet, Jason, is officially not going on her hit list for his atrocious fashion choices. But that red monstrosity still needs to go.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Marinette felt her hair being yanked. A little pain was expected but the really sharp claws digging into her scalp was not. Making her cry and tear up.

”I am so sorry, kit.” Plagg whispered in the kwami language, loosening his claws.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Damian growled out.

Geez, thanks for the compliment, it’s not like you ever had a tiny cat dig its claws into your scalp out of surprise. (Damian once had a kitten thrown at his head and if he knew about Plagg, he would have been sympathetic.) Marinette started begging for mercy, hoping they would buy the helpless girl out of the suit that is ill-suited for the job she had been chosen for and had no idea on how to escape.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.”

Oh kwamis, what did she ever do to have such a picky groom? The more he insults her, the less she wants to be married to him.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection."

Great, another reason to stop her mother from killing a senile old man.

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

So that’s where she heard it from. The boy was the son of the daughter of a guy who leads a secret order of assassins and a man that owns a multi-million business. How even did a billionaire meet an assassin, ends up in bed with her and lives? Something to think about for later. She quieted down her sobs, (beat that acting, Rossi) kept her voice low to hatch out a plan with Plagg in the kwami language while the mother-son duo bickered.

“Hey, Plagg before you go, you think I can do that thing, the one which your one of your past holders from Japan can do.”

“You have a lot of potential for destruction but you have not used the ring for a long time yet so I am not sure.”

“I will give it a go anyways. Nothing to lose after all. See you later, Plagg.” Marinette smiled, one that drove fear into the hearts of even the bravest of people. Plagg returned it, already loving the new Guardian before zipping out of the cell to do some scouting. Using the enhanced strength the French superheroine got from prolonged use of the Miraculous, she yanked the chains of the walls and wrapped them around Talia’s neck, cutting off her air supply.

The League of Assassins thought that they could kidnap her and get away with it. But they were no match for the daughter of Sabine Cheng, the deadly Blue Reaper. A high ranking member from the group of assassins and mercenaries called the Guild of Night, who had semi-retired. Kidnapping her was a bad move to make as it meant they had declared war on the Guild, despite the reason behind her abduction having a completely different intention.

She whispered as such to the older woman in her tight grip, making sure the League would know how much they had fucked up. After dropping the limp body, she took a deep breath and tried channeling some of her energy for what she was about to do.

Well, here goes nothing.

She breathed out on the shackles, turning it to rust.

Success!

She introduced herself as Lady and concentrated the energy from before into her hand, forming inky black orbs of destruction in order to free her fellow captives. She felt a little drained from doing magic out of the suit and tried not to show it. Plagg returned, informing her of where the Ra’s and the Pits were. She grinned at the thought of showing old Ra’s who the boss is and made sure he regretted ever messing with her. She explained about Plagg as vaguely as she can, no need to let anyone know about the miraculous than necessary. Sure her plan sounds insane but the boys don’t know who they were with.

She would worry about that curse after she got out of Nanda Parbat. Although she could probably find something in the grimoire to reverse it, she was still an amateur at magic so it was best to have a professional to take care of it. Marinette didn’t want to be with such an asshole, no matter how striking he looks in those regal robes.

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

Picking off the League assassins, one by one was easy especially in her transformed state. She hadn’t appraised her suit properly but from what she had seen, it wasn’t like Chat Noir’s leather get-up. She was armoured in vital areas and her colour scheme was mainly black with green accents. There were vials that were probably poisons and pouches which she decided to look at later. She still had a long braid as a tail from her brief stint as Lady Noire and she wondered why her suit was different. While hiding in a niche she found, she called the bakery via the comm in one of her various pouches.

“Hello?”

“Papa, it’s me, Marinette. Do you know where Maman is?”

“She went out of Paris, talking about how this League must pay. I think she is meeting up with several of her old friends. Are you alright, my little blossom? I know you can take care of yourself but I worry.” The relief in Tom’s voice was palpable. However, she was right and the Guild was going to war against the League. Marinette was adored by nearly everyone in the Guild due to her strangely bubbly and cheery personality in the harsh and brutal lifestyle.

“I am fine, Papa. Did Maman use the Horse to leave? And how are my friends?” She knew they might be in a panic after her disappearance.

“I think she did. I didn’t see Kalki when I went to feed the kwamis. Your friends panicked when they found out you were kidnapped. But they are fine now, mostly worried about you. Took care of some akumas and senti monsters by themselves. I think your fencer friend, Kagami, knows more about the League than she lets on.” Of course, she does. Her mother was a member of the Guild before being blinded due to a mission. Kagami and her actually first met during a reunion party of sorts.

“Thank you, Papa. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up and dialed the personal phone number her mother uses that only Marinette and her father knows about. She waited for the call to connect, trying to think of ways to stop her mother from storming into the League’s base of operation.

“Maman, it’s me. I know you want to attack the League right this minute. But I have a better plan. Can you get Tikki’s earrings from Alix? We can use them and the ring to destroy the Lazarus Pits. Make them really angry.” She peeked out of the niche she was hiding in. She had been there for a while and needed to move to gain some grounds.

“Where are you? And are you okay?” Panic and worry filled her usually composed mother’s voice.

“I am somewhere in Nanda Parbat and I am fine. I was nearly married off to Talia’s son but I am not now. I think.” Marinette replied. Better to rip that band-aid off before she showed up with her would-have-been-husband. She jumped out of the niche and looked

“Kalki, Full Gallop. Okay, we will talk about the ‘nearly married’ part later. What was this plan to destroy the Lazarus Pits?” Sabine thought she was already used to Marinette’s brand of craziness that was her normal but apparently, not.

“I am currently on my way there. Plagg said we need Tikki to get rid of them. Since the League pissed me off and by extension you and the rest of the Guild, I thought our first move against them is to destroy the Pits and a trail of bodies. By the way, can you get some cheese for Plagg?” Marinette ran through the halls, knocking out some poor sod with a whack on the head.

Silence. She thought Sabine had hung up when-

“Voyage. Alix, where are you? We need Tikki for one of Marinette’s insane plans. And Marinette, stay safe, sweety, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Bye, Maman. See you there.”

Marinette turned another corner, the last one before the path that leads to the entrance where the Lazarus Pits were. She only managed to find it with Plagg’s voice in her head, whispering directions and Tikki’s luck. Unfortunately, the luck ran out because the entrance had a lot of guards who had spotted her.

Crap.

She hoped her mother would get here soon. Thankfully, being transformed gave her a boost and would help her to hold her ground for a while.

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

Damian and Red Hood followed the trail of unconscious bodies and sounds of fights, trying to find Lady. Damian was impressed at the level of her skills to defeat many of the League’s assassins although he could probably do better. They relied on his memory to find the Lazarus Pits which was their best bet to finding her as she claimed to be able to destroy them. If Lady possessed such powers, they must find out whether she is a threat to the world or not. And also break the infernal curse they have.

Red Hood was silent mostly. He made a few jabs about how kick ass his ‘bride’ was and how the current Robin should not let her get away. Damian tried really hard not to just maim his adopted brother and also ignore that little fluttering in his chest that happened every time they saw an unconscious assassin left behind by Lady. The sounds of fighting got louder as they got nearer to the entrance. They turned the final corner to see Lady fighting against the guards who outnumbered her. But she seemed to be doing fine against them. Mostly.

One had slipped through her defenses and nearly stabbed her in the back if it weren’t for Damian grabbing one of Red Hood’s guns and shooting a rubber bullet to the neck. He jumped into the fight, grabbing the fallen assassin’s sword and taking out the knife he got from his mother. Jason joined in too, not going to let the two teens have all the fun.

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

“Thanks for the save, Al Ghul but I don’t know why you bothered when me being dead would solve your curse problem.” Lady said as the guards laid around them and they tried to catch their breath.

“It’s Wayne. I go by Wayne these days. Being an Al Ghul is not something I learned to be proud of. And as much as I don’t want this curse, your death is not worth that price.” he replied, “Although, I have to wonder why you would choose to die rather than live.”

She chuckled, “Okay, Wayne, to answer your question. Petty teenage drama makes death much more preferable. On top of that, I have responsibilities that I was practically forced into for doing one little act of kindness.” Her tone was joking but there was a touch of bitterness in it. It made Damian want to find out what caused it. Red Hood looked at her in concern. Lady went down the stairs, ignoring their reactions to her words. They followed her, not wanting to lose sight of her again.

The Lazarus Pits emitted a green glow that lit up the cave and cast strange shadows on the walls. At the edge of the glowing toxic green waters was a woman in dark blue clothing and strangely enough wearing sunglasses. Strapped to her sides were two Dao, ancient Chinese swords. She wore a vindictive expression on her face as she stood staring at the green lake, likely to kill anyone who gets in her way. Damian didn’t recognize the woman as part of the League but taking no chances, he got into a fighting stance and Hood did the same. Lady calmly approached the woman. He reached out to grab her to stop her suicidal nature when she shocked him by speaking to the blue-clad assassin in French,

“Hey, Maman, sorry I am late. I had a little trouble with the guards upstairs. You have Tikki?”

Lady’s mother rushed to hug her, “灵儿 (líng er), I am just glad you are alright. I knew you could handle yourself.”

How the hell did Lady’s mother get to the Lazarus Pits faster than them and snuck past several vigilant guards? Before Damian could question further, a red blur appeared and went to Lady’s face, hugging her cheek. It appeared to be the same size as Plagg but was red, looked like a bug and had a black dot on its forehead.

“Oh, Marinette, you are alright. I was so worried when your mother showed up, saying you were kidnapped and needed my earrings to escape.” Unlike Plagg’s nasally voice, her voice was sweet and shrill.

So, my bride’s name is Marinette. Such a unique name for an intriguing girl.

Wait what?

Wayne, stop thinking such ridiculous notions. That is probably the curse working. Resist against it. He will not be ensnared in the traps of such magic. He hoped that the curse will be reversed before he turns and act like those fools in Grayson’s idiotic shows or Todd’s ‘secret’ romance novels.

“I am fine now. See,” reassured Lady, “We actually need you and Plagg to reverse the Lazarus Pits to what it was before someone made the wish that resulted in them in the first place. Oh, I almost forgot. Plagg, claws in.”

Green light flashed, leaving Lady in her wedding robes (which actually flatter her body. Shit. Think of something else. Drake with a smug superior smile that needs to be wiped off his face. Grayson and his plans for ‘family bonding’) and Plagg to reappear.

“Cheese.” whined the cat-like kwami(?) to which the older woman held out a brown bag that smelled and made Plagg perk up in delight. He proceeded to open the bag, taking out a slice of stinky cheese, muttering about the greatness of camembert.

Todd cleared his throat and asked in English, “Umm...Pixie as much as your reunion is touching. Who’s the new lady?”

“Oh Right, sorry. Well, Red Hood, this is my mother, the Blue Reaper of the Guild of Night. Maman, this is Red Hood and the one next to him is my husband-to-be and Talia’s Spawn, Damian Wayne.”

Lady introduced them, also in English. Damian stilled in fear, recognizing the name. The Blue Reaper nearly became his mother-in-law. She was famous for her efficiency and ruthlessness. And gained her nickname from the blue clothing she often wore as she killed her targets. His eyes also widened at how his grandfather had gone a little too far now by kidnapping the Reaper’s daughter. There were other organizations that could possibly take down the League if it weren’t for the somewhat truce between Ra’s and the other leaders. The Guild was one of them and having the Lazarus Pits to revive their soldiers made the League a little more powerful. But if what the mother-daughter duo were planning succeeded, then the League was going to have one of its most deadly wars in its history and would probably never recover from.

“Tikki, Plagg, you guys ready?” asked Lady.

“Yes, Guardian.” They both replied and emitted a blinding red and green light which Damian shielded his eyes from. When it died down, the Lazarus Pits no longer glowed a toxic green and looked… like normal hot spring water.

“Oh. I wished I could see Ra’s face when he finds out.” Lady laughed. Plagg and Todd joined in.

“Pixie, I am beginning to like you.”

“Voyage. That being said, it’s time to go home, Marinette. Your father must be worried sick about us by now. I hope you boys can find your own way back.” A portal opened up, showing a cozy living room. Damian grabbed Lady’s wrist as she moved towards it.

“Wait, let us come with you. We need to contact someone to get rid of the curse on both of us. And we can also call our father to send us tickets for a ride home wherever you live.”

“Curse? Marinette, you never mentioned a curse in your call.” Blue Reaper said, raising her eyebrow.

“I will explain later. They can come with us and I am pretty sure Ra’s knows that we have escaped by now.” Lady grabbed the two brothers and dragged them through the portal.

She then threw herself onto the couch after releasing her hold on them and the two pocket gods went to comfort her after her ordeal. The Blue Reaper stood where the other portal was and fed a floating tiny gray horse, that must be the same species as Tikki or Plagg, some sugarcubes.

“You boys must be tired but the showers are upstairs and we might have some clothes your size. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You can stay the night if you want. Welcome to Paris.”

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

Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop, @all-mights-asscheeks, @idk-j-go-with-it , @loysydark, @thenillabean, @lolieg, @zalladane, @silvergold-swirl

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

(Part 5)

#damian x marinette #mlb x dc #daminette #maribat #Betrothal AU: take 2 #A Failed Betrothal #assassin marinette #sort of #assassin sabine cheng #definitely #Jason is just here for a ride #marinette is a little petty

496 notes · View notes

dirtychocolatechai · 4 years ago

Text

meet-cute | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): fluff, awkward Bucky, vet appointment stuff, Alpine Request: Babes if you're lowkey taking requests can I lowkey make one? 👉🏼👈🏼🥺💕 something flirty and cute and maybe a lil spicy with Bucky and vet!reader where something's going on with Alpine? Not self indulgent at all 😻💖 Notes: This was the first thing I’ve written in months and it felt damn good. Funny story, I actually almost went to school to be a vet tech + shadowed a vet for two weeks and got to see some wickedly cool things.

This was a bit self-indulgent on my part because I had a cat who passed away some years ago because of struvite stones and I wished he had a happier ending like Alpine so I thought why not 🤷‍♀️💖

Taglist is open

(gif from google)

There’s nothing Bucky hates more than the stringent smell of industrial cleaners and clinical white walls - too many associations and shades of memory long laid to rest - except for when something’s going on with Alpine. The Turkish Angora was fine up until a few days ago when he started to hide away and sleep all day.

That wasn’t too concerning at first...

But then came the pained little noises, the frantic running back and forth from the litter box, the excessive grooming. The pit that started forming low in his belly grew, his instincts screaming at him that something was wrong, very wrong, with his little buddy.

Bucky wasn’t about to fuck around and set up an appointment with the first vet office he could find that had a same-day opening. And now he’s trying not to fall apart at the seams while he waits for the docs to do their magic and tell him what the hell’s going on with his cat and what he has to do to fix it.

The vet tech collected Alpine a bit ago and every minute stretches into years, the cat’s pitiful meow echoing in his ears and those betrayed eyes burned onto the backs of his eyelids.

I know, Bub, I’m sorry but they gotta figure out what’s going on. It’ll be okay, they’ll take care of you.

His ass went numb from the plastic chair ages ago, his leg jiggling up and down at a rapid pace as he chews on his thumbnail and waits.

And waits.

God, he knows these things take time but he’d rather be back at home, curled up on the couch with Alpine pigging out on breakfast food and watching space documentaries.

How much longer-

“Alright, Mr. Barnes?”

The heavy door swings open with a click, a kind, professional voice preceding a pair of sensible shoes as the vet steps into the room with a clipboard cradled against her chest. His eyes snap up, skipping over her completely to look at the tech holding his cat who looks absolutely miserable.

She introduces herself but he’s not paying attention. He’s not meaning to be rude but all his focus narrows in on that white little face, the knot in his chest unfurling at the little mew.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he breathes, “Hey there, Little Buddy.”

The vet doesn’t push, in fact, she seems a little enamored with how much he melts at the sight of his pet. Her own lips quirk up into a soft smile while she stands off to the side patiently as Alpine’s set down on the metal table.

Bucky gets in a few good scritches under his chin, the beginnings of a purr just starting to vibrate his hand when the vet clears her throat delicately.

He clears his throat, heat burrowing into the apples of his cheeks. “Shi - uh, ‘m sorry.” A hand scrubs over the back of his neck. “I’m just - uh - y’know...”

Her laugh trickles down his spine like warm rain, the sound effectively drawing his attention away from the cat rubbing up against his side. He gets his first look at her and oh.

A bare face and a no-nonsense hairstyle greet him, her scrubs and white coat adding to the overall doctor vibe but she’s still breathtaking. The natural beauty in the curves of her face, the slant of her brows, the sparkle of her eyes.

He feels like he got sucker-punched in the chest, his heart giving a sudden throb that has him coughing like an idiot as he scrambles to not look like such a jackass.

“So,” he clears his throat, scratching at the stubble along his jaw, “What’s - what’s wrong with him?”

Glancing down at Alpine’s chart, she hums and writes a note before glancing back up with a reassuring smile. “Nothing that can’t be managed with a special diet and watching his water intake.”

It’s like the weight of the world disappears from his shoulders, his broad frame practically heaving with his sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking- ahem, ‘scuse me - thank god.”

Her chuckle and sly smile have him blushing from the roots of his hair to the collar of his shirt, his stomach squirming in discomfort. Old habits are hard to break, especially ones his momma taught him with a box to the ear.

“You’re allowed to swear, Mr. Barnes,” she says, reaching down to run her fingers through snow-white fur. “We’re all adults here.”

“No, no, I know...”

“Hm, anyway, his blood work came back and everything looks fine which is a good thing.”

And it’s back to business like that, any hint of personality hidden behind cool professionalism that Bucky thinks even Tasha would admire. Except for the playful gleam in her eyes as she sneaks peeks at him while going over everything they did and what they found.

“Struvite crystals are quite common in cats at low levels, especially males because their tract is longer and narrower.” She pauses, flipping to a new page. “Depending on the severity, they can clump together in the urinary tract and actually form stones. That’s where the true problem lies because get one large enough, and it can cause a blockage.”

He’s listening with rapt attention, soaking in the knowledge she’s imparting to him all the while, petting Alpine who keeps nuzzling him and making little sounds. Honestly, he could listen to her talk for hours even if he didn’t understand a goddamn thing.

She’s so animated when she speaks, holds eye contact and makes sure he understands everything without making him feel like an idiot. He’s had so many doctors who talked at him rather than with him, staring through him without seeing, more interested in the paycheck rather than their patients.

But not her, she cares.

Deeply.

He can see it all over her face and it’s utterly enchanting. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little enamored, charmed.

Turning the tablet towards him, she shifts closer and a waft of whatever perfume she’s wearing tickles his nose as she explains what the x-ray of Alpine’s abdomen found.

“These are the stones but thankfully they’re relatively small,” she points to several hazy white ovals starkly visible on the radiograph, “We caught them in time before they became a really big problem.”

Shit, she smells so good...

“Now, we’ll send you home with a special diet and see how he does. Also, make sure to up his fluid intake as much as you can. The food can take several months to start dissolving the crystals so we’ll have to do everything we can to help. Sound good?”

Bucky hasn’t pulled his eyes away from her face once this entire time, and how fucking creepy is that?

Quickly looking down at Alpine, embarrassment gnawing at his belly, he nods and wishes for the first time since he cut his hair that he hadn’t so he’d at least have a passing chance at hiding the blush burning its way across his face.

“Yeah,” he says, picking up the ball of white fluff to hold against his chest, a makeshift shield. “Is there anything else I should do?”

“No.” She smiles, writing another note and tapping away at the tablet next to her. “I do want to see him again in about a month for a check-up.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want to leave so soon.

The irony isn’t lost on him either.

How does he make this last longer? What can he do? If Sam was here right now, he’d be kicking him in the ass and bitching at him to ask for her number already, Ice Pick.

The clack of the chart being set down rings through the room, bouncing off the walls and sounding so fucking final that he starts to panic.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

She’s already halfway to the door when she asks, “Do you have any questions?”

The word vomit spring from him, unbidden and sudden without any thought, more forward than he’s been with a woman in years.

“Can I have your number?”

As soon as the question leaves his lips, he curses, cringes and wishes he could snatch the very words from the air itself.

Great, I just hit on my vet.

No amount of backpedaling can salvage this but goddamn it if Bucky doesn’t try, stuttering out some half-assed excuse about wanting it just in case he thinks of something later.

When he glances up, he wishes he hadn’t. The vet tech is in near tears in the corner, biting her lips so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if they started to bleed.

But it’s the absolute surprised bafflement on the woman he just inappropriately hit on that does him in, makes him about ready to burn all forms of identification and run for the hills.

Her brows nearly reach her hairline, her mouth slack, eyes startled. She gets ahold of herself before he does, and he barely stops himself from slapping a hand over his face.

Right when he’s thinking there’s no way he’s going to be able to show his face in the office again, her expression softens with gentle amusement and her lips twitch.

Struck dumb, he can only watch as she writes something down on a slip of paper before handing it over to him. He barely believes the string of numbers and the cheeky little call me anytime :).

The wink she sends his way is there and gone, so fast he almost believes he imagined it.

“For emergencies only,” she says, slyly. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he agrees, almost tripping over the cat carrier as he hurries to stuff Alpine back in. “Of course, thank you. I...appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky leaves the room in a stupor, the world sharply shifted to the left as he heads to the front desk to make the follow-up appointment, but not before hearing the whispered, “Girl, you’re lucky. He’s fine!” and the “He is, isn’t he?”.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you

471 notes · View notes

calitraditionalism · 4 years ago

Text

Arc Two: Chapter Four

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Mistface would be lying if he said he wasn’t entirely disgusted with his task.

He could see Snowshine from here – she was a pretty white molly with yellow eyes, and she was currently pulling a squirrel from the oversized prey pile. She looked a little anxious… perhaps ‘stressed’, rather, was the right word. Her fur was fluffy, and Mistface could guess that it was normally very well groomed and smoothed down. Right now, it looked like she had slept on it wrong, and then kept turning over in her sleep to make all of it stick out at odd angles.

“Prime for flattery and a kind conversation,” Darkpelt had said to him. “So pour on the charm and pretend you give a hoot about her problems.”

Mistface didn’t like other cats at the best of times. Actively having to seek one out and act interested in them was like finding a stinking, rotting piece of meat in the grass and being told to eat it with a genuine smile.

Nevertheless, he had a mission (why had he agreed to this again?), so he gently shook out his fur, let it settle, and sauntered forward for the prey-pile.

Snowshine glanced up as he approached and blinked in surprise. He smiled pleasantly at her and sniffed a mouse.

“They make prey so much better ‘round these parts,” he said in his news-and-weather voice. “Marshes must take the taste right out of whatever StarClan sends down.”

Snowshine relaxed and some of her fur flattened, though it was still awkwardly angled. “I haven’t really been anywhere but here. You’re from the south? Scattered, I'm guessing?”

“That I am.” Mistface tilted his head and crinkled his eyes in fake amusement. “Accent give it away?”

She laughed a little. “Just a bit.” She looked him over with roaming eyes. Mistface tried not to get annoyed. “I don’t think I heard your name when you came in. You were with that blind molly, right?”

“Mm.” He tilted his head a little to the left with a winning smile. “I’m Mistface.”

“Oh!” Snowshine perked up even more. “Then you’re Greyleaf’s brother! He’s always talking about you and your mother.”

“Oh, dear.” Mistface made a face of pretend worry. “Must not have a real good impression of me, then.”

“Actually, he has nothing but nice things to say about you,” Snowshine hurried to reply. “He says you’re really charming and kind.”

“We’ll have to see if that’s the case, then, won’t we?” Mistface said, giving her an appraising look. She suddenly seemed a little shy. He wanted to vomit.

Snowshine shuffled her feet and pointed with her tail to a rare grassy spot just beyond a pair of houses. “I, um, usually eat over there, if you want to come with. It’s a lot warmer than anywhere else in the village.”

“That’d be nice.” Mistface picked up a random piece of prey (a black bird of some kind) and waited for her to do the same with her meal before walking with her to the grass. He was very grateful he didn’t have to say anything now that his mouth was occupied.

Once they were settled across from each other, Mistface started pulling some of the feathers off of his prey’s belly. “I do have to ask – you’re a seer, I'm guessin'. And a real good one, goin’ by your suffix. What are you doin’ here in Clast?”

“Oh, well…” Snowshine swallowed the mouthful of squirrel she had already taken. “Everywhere needs a seer. And now, with Redheart doing her… thing... the actual Clast cats need someone to sort of be in charge.” She gave a weak chuckle, seemingly to herself. “They’re not too happy with her bringing in a bunch of strangers that don’t want to fight.”

“Y’all have plenty of loners come in, though, don’t you?”

“Yes, definitely, but they’re at least here to test their strength, and then they leave.” Snowshine sighed. “Not that I like them barging in all the time, but the rest of Clast does. These new cats are just here because of Redheart’s new ideas. They turn down too many fights for Clast’s liking. And, well, Redheart acting so odd anyway…”

Mistface had the sneaking suspicion that Snowshine did not voice her thoughts too often to anyone around the settlement. Suddenly, now that someone was listening and apparently caring, she was off. Mistface simply nodded and let her go about her new duties and how Redheart was this and that, and on and on, while he ate his bird.

“…I mean, I haven’t even been able to go to the Lighthouse, I’ve been so busy. StarClan can speak to us anywhere, I know, but sleeping at the very bridge to heaven is the best way to talk directly.”

She paused for breath, and Mistface took the opportunity to comment, “And StarClan can’t reach you at all if you leave with Redheart, I’m guessin’.”

“She’d like that,” Snowshine said, with a sudden darkness. “She’s always been weird about StarClan. Never even thinks to just have me ask them what to do about whatever problems come up, even for big things.” She looked around and leaned in a little, Mistface copying her, and whispered, “I think it’s just because she has these nightmares now and then. She thinks that StarClan’s giving her the silent treatment, so she’s getting bad dreams instead of visits from our ancestors.”

Nightmares… Mistface hummed in thought, keeping his voice low. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but my brother has the same problem.”

“Really?” Snowshine’s eyes widened.

“He’s had nightmares all his life.” Mistface knew that Greyleaf didn’t consider this particular fact a secret, but pretending to share some intimate detail with Snowshine would only help her trust him more, so he continued with his conspiring tone. “StarClan’s never talked to him, either.”

Snowshine nodded like he had given her the answer to all of life’s questions. “That must be why they get along so well, then.”

“Mm.” Mistface drew his head back, but stayed quiet. “Any other seers ‘round here that could help?”

“Well, we have the one that came in.” Snowshine made a slightly distasteful face. “Starkfeather. But he’s… not exactly someone I would go out of my way to talk to about stuff like this. I don’t know that he’d be particularly helpful.”

Mistface winked. “Not on your level, at least, I take it.”

Snowshine smiled bashfully and Mistface silently cursed Darkpelt for making him do this. “Maybe not… an apprentice arrived one day that used to train as a seer, but she’s going to be a warrior instead, so I didn’t want to bother her and ask.”

Snowshine started again on her rambling, this time about the various new cats that had come in recently. Mistface listened solely because she could say something important.

She didn’t.

He did not like her.

---

When night arrived, everyone settled in to sleep, except for Beetlefoot. He instead took the opportunity to pretend take a walk and enjoy the night sky. When he was far enough away from the eyes and ears of the Clast camp, he took off north, never once looking upward (it was a waste of time).

He was lucky enough to meet no one on his path – during the living years, everyone stayed in underground dens or moved to whatever trees or shelter they could find to escape the rain. There was no rain tonight, but clouds were coming again from the coast. Even this far away, Beetlefoot could gather that Petrichor and Derecho, the aspects of storms, would be arriving soon with a determination to soak the earth.

Which means he would leave footprints on his next trip, if he wasn’t careful.

Beetlefoot caught a scent of a familiar cat and slowed down to a loping canter. He lifted his head up again, keeping his chest puffed out as well as he could while staying at his current speed. He already knew how this was going to go for him. Drop off the information, be dismissed, leave without another word. Other Fleet members liked to swap conversations. Just not usually with him.

Never a change in that, until Nettlecloud and her strange sons.

He saw a cat rise from the grass and turn to face him, soon followed by four others. He slowed again, this time to his regular trot, and nodded sharply once he was within earshot. He stopped a few feet away from the leader, a grey molly with a heavily scared muzzle, and stood about as tall as he could. He was still much shorter than everyone else.

“Beetlefoot, yeah?” the molly said. “Clean path here?”

“Yes.” Beetlefoot dipped his head. “No thorns on the way, Shreddednose.”

He didn’t particularly like trading the common polite phrases with other members of the Fleet, but it was all he usually got in the way of conversation, so he took it. It was just good to be greeted at all by one of the more prolific patrollers in the Fleet.

A lanky black molly took several long steps forward. “What’ve you got for us?”

This, he thought, was Striderfoot. He had only met her once, and she had been similarly brisk. He could respect that. “Information about Redheart.”

He recited everything Darkpelt and Mistface had gathered and given him – leaving out, he noted with pride, absolutely nothing. Striderfoot narrowed her eyes, listening carefully, until he concluded. She looked at Shreddednose.

“You got everything?” Shreddednose said.

“Everything,” Striderfoot affirmed. “Want me to head off now?”

“You might as well.” Shreddednose tapped Striderfoot’s side with her tail. “Frostclaw can go with you, if you want. That predator and all.”

“What, and be slowed down by her lumbering rump?” Striderfoot said, and grinned when a white molly came up and bopped her. “I’ll be fine. It’ll be light by the time I get there.”

“Then try to be safe for once,” Shreddednose said fondly.

“Of course.” Striderfoot turned, nodded at Beetlefoot, and said quiet goodbyes to the rest of her team before taking off at a sprint (I could outrun her, Beetlefoot thought snippily).

Shreddednose smiled, then returned to professionalism when she looked back at Beetlefoot. “Nothing else?”

Beetlefoot pretended he didn’t feel a little deflated. “Nothing else.”

“Chase the wind, then.” Shreddednose bowed her head.

“Only the warmest breezes.” Beetlefoot mirrored her gesture to her, then to the others, who looked indifferent to his existence. He whirled around and sprinted off, hastening to leave the situation before it turned awkward.

He was right, at least. He could outrun her.

#warrior cats #steorra #arc two #chapter #chapter four #dullard #mistface #snowshine #beetlefoot #shreddednose #striderfoot

5 notes · View notes

davidlynchschreibner · 4 years ago

Text

*Today I found this silly little story slice buried in my computer files. It was written before it was apparent Lukas was growing a beard so was fed primarily by my own feelings about the joy some trans men experience if/when we can grow facial hair. Very self-indulgent and poorly written but as our fandom has quieted recently I thought perhaps it would be a nice contribution? I don’t know. Might as well share it.

Whiskers on things other than kittens

or, David grows a beard

As the summer of his first year of film school approaches, David is immensely enjoying the dark recent addition to his jawline. He's waited so long for it to fill in fully from scattered whiskers to patches of hair to an uninterrupted band. After spending what seems an eon impatiently noting how much more he was shaving away as the months advanced now at last he can savor the fruit of his body's labor. A beard makes him feel handsome, mature, and more settled in his body than before. In comparison to other major notes in the rising chord of his transition it is a low and quiet one, yet he feels the resonance in his bones. Like all else he has worked for this with every psychologist appointment and prick of the syringe. He can allow himself to wear it proudly. Every time he catches his reflection in a mirror or window he experiences a little flare of confidence that pushes his shoulders back and lifts the corners of his mouth. Facial hair does not a man make by any means but this feels like his inner self is growing outside the skin it's been trapped in for so long. He can see the tangible evidence of his journey with all its strife and victories--- and so can the rest of the world.

He's not the only one who is pleased. Half the students in his film classes eye him appreciatively, charmed by the combination of sharpening features and warm energy. As he comes into himself his appeal increases accordingly. People have liked him in the past--- even flirted with him at times--- but he has never felt so positively noticed. After years spent compressed by his desire to not be seen he finds air fills his lungs more fully when his posture relaxes. The chitinous shell of the frightened boy he once was is fragmenting, peeling, and falling away to reveal a more fully realized young adult. Some of the girls turn a little giddy when he speaks to them and it is strange with newness but makes a flicker of pleasure spark inside him every time. Small validations fortify the foundations he is building to house him, making a place to live that he doesn’t have to run away from. He’s happy here. Matteo finds his developing reputation of resident 'hot guy' very entertaining and will tease him about his supposed powers of seduction (with occasional exaggerated displays of being effected) until David crowds into his boyfriend’s space and silences the annoying ribbing with kisses.

It's rather hypocritical of Matteo to tease considering no one is as attracted to David as he. It's of course not just the beard, as he was equally infatuated when David had gone through a period of being entirely clean shaven. But the increase in self-assurance this new look inspires does seem to drive Matteo to distraction on a regular basis. Sometimes David catches him staring openly with a hooded, enraptured expression and restless fingers. If they're alone David will tilt his head and smirk until Matteo is so flustered he has to get his hands on his boyfriend. In public, Matteo restricts himself to draping his body over David like a heavy blanket and sneaking a kiss to the newly roughened point where a pulse thrums steadily. It is not new to be so tactile in their appreciation of each other, but there is a fever in Matteo’s cheeks that rises when he observes how his boyfriend begins to show himself more openly. They never did spiral into the slow disinterest of some established relationships and it seems that will not be happening anytime soon. Matteo thinks David is the hottest guy in the world and reminds him every day in myriad ways.

The first time David finds himself unconsciously stroking his chin while he edits footage he jerks to a stop and laughs incredulously at himself. It’s a ridiculously cliche thing to do and he feels acutely embarrassed afterward. But sometimes in a moment of absent-minded contemplation his hand makes its way up. He expects Matteo to mock him for looking pretentious the first time he’s caught, but surprisingly the other boy does not. His bemused expression softens into the familiar tender smile that says ‘I love you’ without parting lips. Then he returns to his game and never mentions it after. Indeed, he seems to find the beard just as enjoyable to touch. In the mornings, when Matteo is sleep-soft and resisting attempts to wake him, he strokes the scratchy strands framing David's jaw with his fingertips. Sometimes he'll rub his cheek against the texture, affectionate and possessive as a cat. David huffs in exasperation at first but soon it becomes just another weird but endearing thing Matteo does. He never can find it in himself to reject any form of affection the other boy gives him be it a hug or a kick. Eventually he likes it so much that he wonders if he will ever decide to be bare-faced again.

One night they are lying tangled together beneath the quiet observation of the moon and David breaks the long silence to ask if Matteo likes him better with the beard. The words are drawled nonchalantly but the brittleness that dysphoria makes of his ego creaks in the undertone. He doesn’t need this sort of reassurance often, less and less as time goes on, but may always find occasions for it. The conflict between wanting to be seen this way and the worry that he lacks without makes a sharp cramp of overexertion seize in his chest. Matteo lifts his head from where it has been resting beside David’s and gazes with all the patient understanding people often don’t expect he possesses. The two of them know every dip and swell of each other’s voices now and nothing is hidden when something is not spoken. Matteo responds with quiet certainty, ‘You like you better.’ David waits, knowing instinctively that Matteo is taking time to find his words. ‘I like you most being happy however you want to be.’ Then he smiles and burrows into David’s shoulder, making stupid little grunting sounds like he’s trying to wrestle a pillow into shape. David swallows against the knot of emotion in his throat.

‘Being a man’ is a bewilderingly intricate definition unique to each person. It is not a list or a diagnosis or a quiz with an answer key. David has tried many times to articulate its broad strokes and nuances to professionals and peers alike, yet found it cannot be confined to succinct sentences. He can collect as many indicators as there are days in a year but all told it is simply that he knows he is. It only increases in complexity because he is still discovering what it means to him. No part of his body will ever make him more or less who and what he is. But there are things he grasps and holds close as affirmations. He likes expressions commonly understood as masculine and needs without negotiation to alter the shape beneath his shirts. His facial hair doesn’t make him more a man, nor a person of more worth or quality. But he feels the power of reclaiming what his first puberty tried to take away from him whenever he grooms the borders of his beard. The person reflected back at him in the mirror looks more like he feels inside. And he’s starting to really like that guy.

#druck #druck og #david schreibner #a fic #sort of #I don't know I just project my trans feelings onto David sometimes #my content

59 notes · View notes

shaalk · 4 years ago

Text

Back together

Type: Oneshot

Characters: Minseok X Reader

Genre: Slight angst, fluff, CEO AU

Warnings: None

Status: Completed

Summary: Being a wedding planner involves a lot of stress, but there’s also a truckload of joy that comes with it. It is always my goal to be involved in a wedding from start to end. This one though, was a bit much for me.

Words: 1750

I am exhausted and I just can’t wait to get home to lounge around. My heels are killing me and the day isn’t even half over.

Being a wedding planner is stressful and tiring most of the time, but I love my job. At the end of the whole process, seeing pure happiness on the bride’s and groom’s face is the best reward I can ever receive.

Standing at the entrance of the wedding hall, I am ensuring that all the decorations at the reception area are properly arranged before I can check on the bride and groom.

I have yet to meet them even though it is already their wedding day. Only their mothers were present at all the wedding planning meetings.

From what both mothers have told me, the bride and groom are CEOs of their own companies, which is why they couldn’t take time off to make any wedding related decisions.

Their jobs also explain why this is easily the most expensive wedding I have ever planned. Held in the most exclusive hotel in Seoul, the cost of the wedding is easily more than what I can possibly earn for the rest of my life. I might even need to work four jobs just to make that amount of money.

As I arrange the last few flowers on the reception table, the first guests arrive. I immediately inform the catering staff to hand them some refreshments through my headphones.

Soon after, the bride’s and groom’s parents come out to the wedding hall to greet the guests. I flutter around from guest to guest, ensuring that everyone is satisfied with the refreshments they are devouring and to also find out if they need anything else.

At about 2pm, most of the guests are present and it is almost time for the ceremony to start. As a protocol, I go to visit the bride first to see if she is ready to walk down the isle.

I enter the bride’s changing room to find the make-up artist adding the final touch on the bride’s lips. Once that is done, I am able to get a glimpse of the bride through the mirror.

My, she is a beauty.

From large brown eyes, to her perfectly contoured cheekbones and her long wavy hair. Beautiful might even be an understatement to describe her.

I quickly put a professional smile on my face and introduce myself to her for the first time. She lightly bows back at me and introduces herself as well.I explain to her that she has a few more minutes to get ready as I will be bringing the groom to walk down the isle first, then coming back to get her later.

She nods in acknowledgment and gives me a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, which is totally unusual for a bride. They are usually all smiles, excited to marry their fiancé.

Maybe she’s just very nervous.

I leave the bridal crew and head to the groom’s changing room. I knock lightly first, not wanting to walk in on something I don’t want to see.

The door swings opens to reveal four men in matching white tuxedos, obviously making them the groomsmen. I explain that I am the wedding planner and that they are required to get ready at the reception area while I brief the groom about the wedding march procedure.

Shouting a round of good lucks to the groom, the groomsmen head towards the wedding hall while I enter the changing room. I immediately spot the groom sitting by the coffee table with his back towards me.

I quickly introduce myself.

As soon as I say my name, the groom whips his head so fast, I hear his neck crack.

I come face to face with a very familiar pair of eyes.

“M-Minseok?”

My eyes widen and so do his. I can’t move. Not when I am staring my ex-boyfriend, the love my life, right in the eyes.

Four years later and he still looks the same as he did when we were in university. The same cat eyes and chubby cheeks. The only difference is that he has lost a whole lot of weight.

When we broke up, he was the chief editor for an entertainment company. Now, he is his own boss, something he always wanted to be.

My mind reels back to our time together.

Frequent walks at the park, weekend trips to other states and visits to the beach. If we were not doing any of those, we would probably be watching a movie in our shared apartment. This was when Minseok was a mere assistant editor.

Things changed between us however, when Minseok attained the position of chief editor at his workplace. All the free time he used to have was gone. Most nights, he would come back from work after I had gone to sleep and would leave home before I had woken up. He even had to work on weekends. Sometimes I would not see him for days even though we lived in the same house.

I grew frustrated. I left my parent’s home because I wanted to live with my boyfriend, but it felt like I was living in our apartment myself.

On one of the rare Saturdays that he was home, I voiced out my concerns to him. I told him that I felt like I was living alone and that if I wanted to live like how we were living right now, I would have moved into my own apartment instead.

To which he replied, “so do that.”

And so i left.

Even though I walked out on him, I never forgot him at all. I did see a few people after my breakup with Minseok but I just couldn’t date, not when I still think about him all the time.

Is it even possible to forget or move on from someone you had been with for six years?

A knock on the door breaks me out of my trance. It’s the indication that it is time for Minseok to walk down the isle.

I had pictured my wedding with Minseok so many times in the past, but never did I imagine that I wouldn’t be the bride walking towards him during the ceremony.

I break eye contact with Minseok and tell him the procedure of the wedding march. I watch him nod stiffly and take that as a cue for me to leave. The male trails along behind me as we walk towards the reception area.

I give the groomsmen some directions on where they should stand once they enter the hall, all the while feeling Minseok’s burning stare on me. I don’t give him the attention he wants. I can’t. If I do, I might just break down.

Once I fix the positions of the groomsmen, I nod my head as a signal for the wedding hall’s doors to open. One by one, they start entering the hall. That is when I rush off to fetch the bridal crew.

We are waiting outside the hall for the groom’s portion of the ceremony to be over. Meanwhile, I am just observing the bride. It is weird how she doesn’t look happy at all despite it being one of the most important days of her life.

On cue, the bridal march song comes on. The doors open and the bridal crew starts walking in. Once they all enter, I get into the wedding hall with my assistant, to take our places at the back.

I watch the bride walk down the isle with her father. Once at the alter, the father kisses her cheek and takes a seat. My stomach churns as I watch Minseok pull the bride’s veil over her head and hold her hands.

“Dearly beloved,” the priest starts and I immediately know I have to leave. I can’t watch the man I love marry someone else.

So I flee.

I pass my headphones to my assistant and run off, giving her an excuse that I am feeling a bit sick.

I march to my car and speed off to my apartment with tears rolling down my face the whole time.

Thanks to the heavy rain mirroring my tears and bad traffic, I only manage to reach my apartment an hour later.

I check my phone to see no texts from my assistant, which is unusual because if I am unable to see through the end of a wedding, she will drop me a message to update me that the ceremony is over.

I am about to call her when I hear my doorbell ring. Without even bothering to check who it is, I pull the door open.

“Minseok?” I shriek.

He is standing outside my apartment with a puddle of water around him, utterly soaked from the rain and gasping for air.

“Why are you here?”

“I can’t do it. I can’t marry her!”

“What are you talking about? You spent so much money on the wedding!”

“I’m pretty sure i’m going to get a ticket for speeding all the way here from the wedding venue, I ran under the rain from the front of your neighbourhood because the freaking traffic was so bad and all you care about is how much I spent on the wedding?” Minseok is shouting at this point.

His eyes soften when he takes in the shock written all over my features.

“I can’t marry her, not when i’m still in love with you,” he confesses.

I can’t stop the tears from falling again.

I am frozen on the spot and Minseok takes that opportunity to tug me towards him and envelope me into a hug. I melt in his hold, missing the way his arms feel around me. I immediately hug him back, not wanting the moment to end.

After a while, we move to sit on my couch just to bask in each other’s presence. We catch up for a bit and Minseok admits that the marriage was arranged by his and the bride’s parents, and that it was for their companies to merge.

No wonder the bride looked so unwilling to be at the wedding venue, she was forced into the marriage.

We are silent for a bit until Minseok calls out for me.

“I’m never letting you go again babe,” he whispers as he seals that promise with a peck on my lips. I grin into the kiss.

You better not Kim Minseok!

A/N: Let me know what you think! Please drop a comment :)

#exo #exosnet #exowritersnet #exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #exo fic #minseok #minseok fanfiction #minseok scenarios #minseok fic #xiumin #xiumin fanfiction #xiumin scenarios #xiumin fic

32 notes · View notes

yodawgiherd · 5 years ago

Text

Scars that time can't heal, pt.3

Rating: M

>>Read On AO3<<<

The third and final part of my somewhat disliked short series. As I said before I did not want to turn this into a longer thing, and I believe that three parts are just enough. If you liked the previous chapters, then I hope that you will like the finale too, if you didn't, well, I'm sure there are other stories that you will enjoy more :)

Oh yes, before I forget, this chapter has some past Mikasa/Jean and Eren/Hitch. There, you've been warned.

So, If you have been waiting for this then... Enjoy!

Mikasa Ackerman was a lot of things in her life. She was a soldier, a fighter, an insufferable teenage goth, a gym rat and a nightmare to most of her opponents. With all these titles, there was another one she could add under her belt after today.

A stalker. Mikasa Ackerman was a stalker.

As it turned out, Eren’s working place was a private clinic, small but modern looking building in the quiet part of the town. Leaning on the bike, Mikasa popped a cigarette into her mouth, lighting it with a practiced flick of the wrist. It was a dumb idea, even in concept, to do what she was doing. Why would anyone sane just go into the place where her….something worked. Her what?

Good question that, but what is the answer?

Truthfully, she just missed Eren, and it felt like shit to admit that to herself. He was like a fucking breath of fresh air, stirring everything stale in her life and disappearing before she could realize what truly happened. Then he came back, bearing a heap of bad news and a calling card, the same one that she had in her pocket right now, the same one that led her here. Cigarette dangling between her lips, Mikasa sighed, running her hand through her short hair. This was fucking pathetic. But since she was here anyway, she could just, you know, stay a while. And watch.

The clinic had a glass door, a gesture probably seen as welcoming, and if you had a good seat, which Mikasa did, one could see right into the reception. A woman was sitting at the desk, a petite blonde working on a computer right now, eyes focused. Was that her? Was that Eren’s wife? Or was is the freckled woman in doctor coat who came to lean on the blonde’s desk, saying something that made the receptionist blush. And then…. Oh.

As Mikasa was watching freckles kiss the small girl passionately, it was safe to assume that neither of the two was the cheated upon spouse. And then, out of nowhere, the man himself appeared. Coming from somewhere inside the clinic, he stopped at the reception, interrupting the intimate moment the two women were having. While the blonde blushed, even more, the taller girl didn’t seem to mind, responding to Eren’s teasing with a calm face. She even made that shooing gesture, willing to be left alone with her girlfriend again. For once, Eren obeyed, retrieving a file and disappearing back inside the building, leaving the blonde at the mercy of the other girl. All right. Throwing the cigarette on the ground and stomping it out, Mikasa put the helmet back over her head, mounting her bike properly. She had seen enough.

Just as she kicked the machine awake, another person appeared. Leaving the clinic with a phone at her ear, this woman was dressed in a very professional looking shirt and skirt combo, walking expertly in black high heels. She had wavy light brown hair, going down to her chin, cat-like amber eyes, and light complexion. Pretty girl, Mikasa had to say. But it wasn’t her appearance that caught her eye, it was the flash of gold that sat on the woman’s finger, visible because she was holding that phone at her ear. The ring, a twin to the one Mikasa saw at the bar confirmed her suspicion. This was the wife. This was the woman Eren was cheating on. Motionless, Mikasa watched as the woman walked to the lot, getting into a car and driving past her bike. And then she was gone, giving her nothing but another bunch of questions. Revving up the engine, the raven drove away, unsure of what this whole visit achieved. Nothing, most likely.

No good comes from snooping around. Mikasa had been told that fact numerous times, but she never gave those words much weight. But as she stood at the doors to the bar, staring at the figure in a live conversation with Jean, it all started to make sense. Why?

Because she knew that woman. Or rather, she saw her once, right in front of the clinic. Mikasa had no idea how the woman spotted her back then, or how she found out where she was living, but there she was sitting, obviously waiting for her. Jean had no idea, understandably, for him it was just another pretty girl at his bar, meaning that he was going all out. Mikasa could say from the way he talked, the over the top laughter and quick hands that refilled the woman’s glass, she saw him do this dance hundreds of times. And she was the target of this affection back when the two of them were dating too.

Oh well, there was no way that Mikasa will run away from this. If the woman found her once, she would find her again, and there was no gain in prolonging the inevitable. Striding down to her usual table she sat down, making sure that her chair scraped the floor just enough for the pair at the bar to take notice. Lighting up a cigarette to calm her nerves, Mikasa waited for a second, then two, then three. Just as she was about to start hoping that the woman won’t recognize her, that perhaps she is here only on mere chance, the chair in front of her moved and the dreaded figure joined her at the table. Taking a deep breath, she looked up, meeting the woman’s interested eyes that were studying her face.

“What?”, the raven blurted, when the other wouldn’t say a thing.

An enigmatic smile spread across the face in front of her, but still, no words came from her mouth. Hell, Mikasa had no time for this.

“Listen, I don’t feel like sitting here and letting you grin at me like a fucking cat.”, she blew the smoke from her cigarette right at the other woman’s face, “Either start talking or fuck off.”

She coughed, waving the smoke away from herself.

“Feisty, are we?”, she finally spoke, her voice rich and somehow soothing to the ears, “Can’t say I’m surprised, Eren always preferred the lively ones.”

That took the wind from Mikasa’s sails. So there was no mistake, this was the wife, and she came here to get her revenge or something, and the raven was not looking forward to that. Calming herself, the woman put her hands back on the table, meeting Mikasa’s gaze with her own.

“I think I don’t have to tell you why I’m here.”

“No I…”, Mikasa sighed, her eyes dropping, “I know who you are.”

“Good, then this whole thing will be that much easier. Oh, my name is Hitch by the way. Hitch Yeager.”

Yea, Mikasa needed to hear that last name.

“I would say nice to meet you if we met under different circumstances, but now…”, Hitch went on, “I’m not that positive about this meeting being nice.”

“Hitch, can you stop beating around the bush?”, forcing herself to look up, Mikasa met her somehow still completely calm eyes, “We both know what you want.”

She arched an eyebrow at her.

“Which is?”

“To tell me to fuck off? To leave your husband alone? Despite what you might think, I’m not stupid.”

“Hmmm, I supposed it is logical that you expect such a reaction from me.”, leaning forward, Hitch held Mikasa by her eyes alone, “However, I’m not here to do that.”

The raven blinked in surprise.

“You’re not?”

“Not entirely. I came here to do two things.”

“Which is?”

“First, I wanted to see you for myself, see how you look, who you are. And second, I wanted to tell you a bit about our history that Eren probably didn’t share. It should shed a bit of light on his… hmm… exploits.”

“You mean cheating?”

Hitch smiled at that.

“Yes, that is the other word for it.”

“I don’t understand.”, Mikasa admitted, “You aren’t angry at me? Mad? Pissed off by what he’s done?”

“Yes, that is the expected reaction from being cheated on, but our case is marginally different. I’m a psychiatrist, Mikasa, I can suppress my emotions in favor of logic.”

“Wait, how do you know my name?”

“Eren had it written down in his notes.”, she tapped the side of her nose, “I had a suspicion, so I snooped around a bit. Don’t tell him that.”

So he had her marked down in writing. How romantic.

“Anyway,”, Hitch continued, “Make yourself comfortable because I want to tell you everything in one sitting. You might not understand, but it does not feel very nice to share all of this with you, some of the stuff is… well, kind of unpleasant.”

Mikasa had her cigarette going and that was all she cared about at the moment.

“Go on.”, she prompted the woman.

And Hitch told her everything, the whole story. She and Eren met in high school, and while he didn’t seem that interested in anyone really, Hitch slowly but steadily developed a crush. It took her months, almost years of persuading and hounding the man but in the end, he went to prom with her. One risky kiss later they were dating, and Hitch was on the top of the world. College was one big dream for her. She had it all: the school she wanted, an amazing boyfriend, a rosy future in front of herself. But that dream came crashing down on Eren’s words when one day he simply told her that he intends to join the army. She cried. She pleaded. She begged him not to go. But Eren wouldn’t listen. Once he set his mind onto something, he would not budge. In a last terrible act of defiance Hitch shamelessly teamed up with Eren’s mother and convinced the poor man to do something before leaving. To marry.

The wedding was quick and easy, done more to appease Eren’s mother than anything else. The groom didn’t mind, but he wasn’t taken with the idea either. Speeding through the rest of his education, Eren left to become an army doctor, leaving Hitch behind. And when she watched her husband walk away from the easy life with her that he could have, Hitch realized something, for the first time in her life. Eren never loved her. He liked her, sure, would have no problems with being her friend, but that was it. Their intimate life never had that burning passion she saw in the movies and soap operas. Hitch tied Eren to herself, seduced him, brought him along on the ride and the only reason he followed was that he didn’t know better. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

Years passed. Eren came back from the tours, spent a few weeks with his wife and left again. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Hitch was just a heartbroken mess. Following up on her education, she had a respectable career as a psychiatrist, even managed to open her clinic with a few of her friends. It was good, it was great, save for the marriage she was living in that was one giant lie.

When Hitch heard about that sudden attack on the base Eren was stationed in, her heart stopped. Sure, maybe he didn’t love her, but he was still a great guy, and losing him would be terrible. Despite all the horror, he came back, and to her incredible relief stayed, taking up the position of a surgeon at her clinic. And Hitch found herself liking it. She liked working with him, she liked coming back home to her husband. He was a great friend, and an amazing cook, and overall the perfect person to share a house with. Sure, he was not very passionate as a husband, and Hitch always had to be the one to initiate anything intimate between the two of them, but Eren managed to play his part to deliver a satisfying performance. It wasn’t ideal, but it was good, and Hitch could live with that. That was, until a few weeks ago.

If there was one thing Eren was bad at, it was lying to her. He didn’t say anything, of course, didn’t mention what happened or who he met, but Hitch was very far from stupid. There were periods when she would catch Eren staring into nothing, clearly daydreaming, times where he would stare on his car as if contemplating of going somewhere. The breaking point was one night when she finally convinced Eren to make love to her again, as he was unnaturally cold about that lately, even flat out refusing her couple of times. What did tip her over was that when he was on top of her, inside her, when he was making her eyes roll back there was a moan from him, a sound of a name. And that name wasn’t hers. Hitch couldn’t catch it in its entirety understandably quite occupied at that moment, the only thing she knew was that it started with an M. Put one and one together and Hitch knew exactly what happened. Eren met someone, this M woman, and unlike his wife, he seemed to feel something for this stranger. So, she began her search. And it didn’t take her long to find out the name of the girl in his notes, and with a little bit of background checking Hitch found out that there is a certain Mikasa Ackerman who works as a trainer to Louise, a daughter of one of her clients. And that’s how she was here right now.

Voilà.

Out of all these things, what surprised Mikasa the most was the Eren was too in the army, the same as her and Jean. It is a small world when you think about it.

“I still don’t understand shit.”, Mikasa said when Hitch finished her long ass story, “What am I supposed to do with all this information?”

“Oh? But that is up to you to decide.”

Seemingly done, Hitch finished her drink and stood up, putting some cash down as payment.

“This story will end by your and Eren’s decision, I believe my part to be done.”

“B-But you can’t just leave after dumping all this info on me!”

Hitch shook her head.

“Honey, I’m doing just that.”

And when Mikasa wanted to reply, Hitch cut her off.

“Shush now. I know that this is hardly what you expected but listen to me. I like Eren, I do, and if he found someone to love in you then I have no problems standing aside. He is a friend, a very good friend, but not the husband I dreamt of.” when she smiled this time, there was a tinge of sadness in it, “The only thing that sucks is that the two of you didn’t meet sooner.”

“Hitch I…”, still, Mikasa felt this need to justify herself, especially after hearing the story and realizing that Hitch is a very nice person in real life, “I never meant to kill your marriage, you have to believe me, I didn’t know.”

“You can’t kill something that was dead from the start, Mikasa.”, this time, the smile was warm, “You know what, I take back what I said before. It was nice meeting you.”

And just like that, Hitch was gone, out of the door. The only proof of her ever being here and rocking Mikasa’s world was the empty glass in front of her. Oh, and Jean’s dreamy gaze that followed her all the way out of the door.

Luckily, she wasn’t left alone for a long time. The chair scraped and there was a new person in front of her, a person she knew.

“What did she want?”, asked Jean, gaze still half-turned towards the door where the woman disappeared. Not that Mikasa blamed him, Hitch was a very pretty piece of ass.

“She told me about her and Eren.”, Mikasa admitted, watching the wheels behind Jean’s eyes slowly absorb the information before a light of understanding shone through.

“You mean…?”

“Yes. That was the wife. That was the woman Eren is cheating on.”

“Oh damn. I never imagined... I mean…”, he shot a look at Mikasa, “Don’t take this bad but..”

“You didn’t imagine she would be hot?”, Mikasa guessed, correctly.

“I’m just saying that if I was in Eren’s place, I wouldn’t risk marriage to her over a short one-night stand.”

“That’s understandable. I probably wouldn’t either.”

“Let’s move on.”, Jean offered, “You want to tell me what she said?”

So, Mikasa told him everything, the whole story, not leaving out any detail. He was her best friend and probably the only confidant, and she needed a second opinion. But when she finished, Jean reacted in a way that Mikasa surely didn’t expect. He laughed. He laughed out loud.

“Mind sharing what’s so funny about all this?”, she queried, watching him with an arched eyebrow.

“It’s just… This, what you just said to me, this is how I would describe our relationship too before it went to shit.”

“Now hold on…”, Mikasa wanted to protest, but Jean raised his hand to silence her.

“Please, let me explain.”

Seeing her nod, he continued.

“I dogged you too at first before you agreed to the date, I wouldn’t let you go. And even when we were dating, would you describe it as some hot passion filled adventure? Now I’m not saying that we didn’t have a good time, but there’s a difference between just enjoying each other’s company and being in love.”

“Jean, don’t say that.”, Mikasa whispered, “You are dear to me, you know that.”

“Yes, I do.”, he smiled at her over the table, warm and understanding, “I get that. Hell, you even followed me to the army just because you were worried I might die on you, isn’t that right?”

“I couldn’t bear losing you.”

She hated how much that sounded just like what Hitch said.

“Overall this feels like looking into a twisted mirror, with me as Hitch and you as Eren.”, Jean closed his speech, looking about as melancholic as Mikasa ever saw him, “I can’t tell you what to do, but I just want you to know that despite what you keep thinking about yourself…”

Reaching out, Jean put his hand on Mikasa’s.

“You deserve to be happy.”

Intertwining their fingers, Mikasa sighed, looking down at the table. No, she still had no idea how to clean this whole mess.

The following weeks felt like bated breath. Somehow she knew that he would come back, somehow she knew that their talk wasn’t the last one. It was as Hitch said, Eren just saw something in Mikasa that his wife couldn’t give him. But what was that thing, she just couldn’t say.

It was about three weeks later when she spotted him, once again sitting at the same table, his back to her. Abandoning all need to pretend, she headed straight for him, taking a seat. Putting a cigarette between her lips with just slightly shaking hands, she managed to light it on the first try, taking a long drag before finally meeting his eyes. God damn those emeralds.

“Hello, Mikasa,” the gruff voice that she missed so much it hurt to hear it now, calm and collected as Eren always was, “Long time no see.”

She put the smoke down for a second.

“I didn’t realize we were meeting on a regular basis.”

“You’ll have to trust me that I tried to stay away but…”, he clicked his tongue, “I’m not strong enough.”

“Yet you are strong enough to keep being a two-timing shit?”

He took the insult without a flinch.

“It would appear so.”

She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Do you know that I met your wife?”

That finally cracked his composure a bit, making Eren’s eyes widen.

“What? But… No, she didn’t.”, closing his eyes, he muttered to himself, “Fuck.”

“Seems to me that you aren’t as secretive as you wanted to be.”, taking a satisfying drag from the cigarette, Mikasa took the moment to be smug herself.

“Well, if you talked with her,”, Eren began, piecing the sentence slowly together, “Then you know that things aren’t exactly going well between us.”

“And that gives you the right to cheat on her?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

But Mikasa was in her element now, finally spewing out the dirt that was in her system, so taking another aggressive drag from her cigarette, she went on.

“Eren, I spoke with her, Hitch is a great woman and I do not understand how you could ever be such a fucking bastard and do this to her.”

“You don’t understand because you have no fucking idea how I feel.”

Oh, his composure was positively cracked. The nice green eyes were full of passion now, his mouth pressed into a thin line and Mikasa could see the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt.

“Do you think I ever wanted to marry her? Do you think I ever loved her?”, the fires in his eyes were an inferno now, “The only reason why I joined the fucking army was that it made me feel alive! Being close to danger made my blood flow after being suffocated into nothing by that relationship.”

“Don’t try to pin this on Hitch.”

“I’m not… Uh…”, this time, it was Eren who was rubbing his forehead, “I made a huge mistake ever agreeing to date her. I was young, but it is my fault. I was too much of a pussy to say no to her, and again to say no to my mom when she kept pressuring us to get married before I leave for the army.”

When he continued, his voice had deep sorrow in it.

“Hitch is a very good friend to me, and fuck, I’ll say it, when a girl looking like that drags you to bed I won’t fight her off, but I never loved her.”, his eyes fixed Mikasa on the spot, “I never felt these… things that you make me feel. That’s why I keep coming back here.”

This was getting too intimate, way too soon, Mikasa wasn’t ready to talk about all these things. Part of her wanted him to leave, the part that felt for Hitch and her struggle. Part of her wanted to kiss him right here and there because his passionate confession made the butterflies in her stomach flutter again. She had to keep speaking to prevent that from happening, but then again, did she want to stop what was coming? Maybe it was time that he decided for a change.

“What do you want Eren,”, she asked, ”to talk again?”

“Why not?”, despite his previous outburst, Eren seemed calm now, pushing back those unpleasant emotions she stirred, “Don’t you enjoy our conversations?”

“I despise them.”

“Oh well.”, he took a casual sip of his drink, “We can always skip the foreplay then.”

Such a smug bastard. Putting her cigarette out with a practiced motion of her hand, Mikasa stood up.

“Let’s head upstairs then.”

“So this is how you do things? Insult me for being a cheating bastard and then invite me to your bed to continue being one?”

“Did you suddenly grow a conscience?”

He stared at her for a moment, but then shook his head.

“No.”

“Good.”

In fact, Mikasa had a plan in her head, finalizing as they walked up the stairs to her tiny room. She had one last ace up her sleeve that was sure to scare him away for good, to show him that this little tryst is completely not worth it. The fumble with the keys took her a little longer than usual, as she could still feel Eren’s presence at her back, the warmth he radiated spreading over her skin. Finally cracking the enigma that was her lock, Mikasa fell in, heading straight towards the bed. She would say bedroom, but her bedroom was also her living room and everything else. Yes, her place was quite small.

“Let’s not waste time.”, she said, undoing her jacket and throwing it somewhere. Judging from the rustle of clothing behind her, Eren was following suit, most likely unable to wait to be with her again. Well, he was in for a surprise. Holding her breath, she pulled the shirt over her head, leaving her torso clad in nothing but a sports bra, exposing everything. The scars made a nice map over her skin, clearly visible in the light that came from the window Mikasa strategically positioned herself at. Waiting for a reaction, she heard a gasp behind herself, her lips curving upwards. Bingo.

To give him the prime view, Mikasa turned around, facing the topless Eren, taking in his expression. That wasn’t…. well, it wasn’t exactly that she expected. He didn’t look disgusted, or angry that she kept It from him, no, Eren looked surprised, to be sure, but there was certain tenderness in his eyes. Reaching out, he ran his hand over the web that was on her stomach, tracing the thick lines with his fingers.

“W-What are you doing?”, she blurted, feeling more exposed than ever before, “Why are you touching it? It’s hideous.”

“Hideous? That’s the worst insult you threw at me this whole evening.”

“What?”

“I’m the one who gave you these. Not the wounds, of course, but the stitches.”, looking up from her stomach, he eyed her face, “I’m the one who put you back together.”

Yet Mikasa was already shaking her head.

“No, I don’t believe that there is no way.”

“It was years ago,”, Eren began, “When our camp got attacked by the bombs. The medics, me included, were up all night treating people that were brought in various states of damage. I just finished a long-ass surgery and was outside smoking because my hands were shaking too much. And that’s when they brought you in. A female marine, hit by a grenade.”

A single finger traced the longest cut on her body, that one that curled all the way around her breast.

“The shrapnel cut you up bad, and there was no one who could treat you, everyone was busy already. So I took care of you, pulled out all those metal fuckers that wanted to kill you and did my best in stitching you up.”

“That was you?”

“You know, in all these years, the details of the night flew out of my head. I was so tired, and there were so many people I treated.”, a little sigh, “But I’m starting to remember. I should have matched the two of you together soon, it’s not like Mikasa is a common name.”

He was distracting her from her original purpose, but it would seem that her last ace in the hole had failed. Eren wasn’t turned off by her scars, he didn’t slam the door behind himself on the way out. No, he looked at her as if she was, as if she was….

Beautiful?

Unable to hold the pressure of his presence anymore, Mikasa leaned forward and captured his lips with her own. The kiss grew feverish, and before he realized what was happening his back was on the bed with Mikasa eagerly undoing his belt and removing his jeans. Eren’s length sprung readily into action when Mikasa pulled down his underwear and reacted nicely to her slow strokes. She never got the chance to inspect this aspect of Eren’s body from up close, as she only took it from behind on their first night, but just from having it inside her Mikasa had a suspicion that Eren was rather well endowed. Which was correct, as she could see, he really did have quite a big dick. Curious to see if she can take all of it inside her mouth, Mikasa gave it a try but was forced to pull back when he hit the back of her throat. She was out of practice. Even her unprofessional mouth made Eren’s head fall back against the sheets, fists bunching it. Going slower this time, she didn’t try to take it all at once, but sucked on the tip instead, bobbing her head up and down, sliding alongside the length. Mindful of her teeth, she used her tongue to tease him instead, forcing another groan from his broad chest. Looking down at her, Eren couldn’t believe what she was seeing. This beautiful enigmatic creature between his legs, with her pretty pink lips wrapped around his cock, face flushed but focused on her actions. Diving deeper again, this time Mikasa succeeded, pulling him into her relaxed throat until her nose bumped into his pubic hair. If the view was out of this world then the way her neck muscles flexed around him was downright heavenly. And he couldn’t hold back anymore. His words of warning fell on deaf ears as Mikasa didn’t do anything to stop that wave that rose in him, going all the way until his cock spasmed in her mouth. Pulling back to give herself room, Mikasa took everything Eren gave her, listened to him curse and groan on the bed, actions which she found rather enjoyable. Yet his eyes remained open all the way, glued to her face. And when the last remnants of his orgasm went by and she let go of his softened length, releasing him from her reddened lips, Eren pulled her up.

Switching their position, it was now his turn to give. Eren’s weight pressing her into the mattress, Mikasa gave herself up. Moving down her body, Eren pressed a kiss onto her breasts, his tongue playing with quickly hardening nipples still hidden from view by the bra. And then, he did something Mikasa never thought will happen to her. Putting his lips even lower, he kissed her scars, one by one, dragged his mouth over the ruined skin. Soft, so soft against her, she felt him drag his fingers under her belt to rub them against the damp spot on her panties. But Mikasa didn’t want that. She didn’t want his tongue pleasuring her. She didn’t want soft, she didn’t want calm. She wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted to be taken by a rough storm that takes away any ability to think.

“Can you be rough?”, she asked, doing her best to appear unaffected by his clever fingers, “Or do I have to fuck someone else?”

“Rough?”, the fire in his eyes flared, “I’ll show you rough.”

Her pants were gone in a flash and so were panties and bra. With a grunt and a flex of muscle, Mikasa was picked up from the bed and all but slammed against the wall with Eren aggressively attacking her neck. With her legs wrapped around his hips, Eren held her up with one hand while using the other to properly line his length up with her inviting folds. One single snap of his hips and he was inside, making her moan at that delicious stretch. She wanted rough and he delivered just that. He fucked her hard against the wall, her body sliding alongside it. It was even a bit uncomfortable at first, as the lack of foreplay made the penetration a bit difficult, but Eren wasn’t stopping and Mikasa was quickly growing wet. Her moans were growing in intensity with each snap, her fingers drawing blood from how much she dug her nails into his back. Eren didn’t seem to mind, his only reaction was a grunt from where he was marking her skin. Desperate for more, Mikasa grabbed a fistful of his hair and pushed him down to her exposed erect nipples. Not needing further guidance, Eren sucked on one, making her moans even louder. She was clamping tighter and tighter around him, her walls collapsing and Eren knew that she is close. Mikasa came with a loud groan, right into Eren’s ear, hunched over his sweaty muscles and clinging to him for dear life. And still, he wouldn’t stop.

“We are not done.”, he said, voice as rough as the fucking.

All but throwing her on the bed, Mikasa was torn from the high of her climax by the contact. Guessing that he wants to take from behind, as he did the first time, she tried to shift her position on all fours but was stopped in her tracks by his iron hold.

“You’ll look into my eyes when I fuck you.”, he ordered, “You’ll stare at my face and know that it's me who’s doing this to you.”

“O-Okay… I… Oh!”

Whatever she wanted to say was lost as Eren pushed inside her again, trapping her wrists in one of his hands and pinning them high above her head. She was so helpless in his hands, putty and pliant to his touch. All her strength just ebbed away from her, same as the proof of her orgasm that was now running down her inner thighs. Eren wouldn’t let her rest, he kept driving into her, groaning filth into her ears, so different than from before. Eyes rolling back, Mikasa let him ravage her as much as he wanted because there was no downside to it now that it felt so good. She never wanted this to end. Never wanted for this build-up to snap, never wanted that coil inside her to break. This just felt amazing, and it made her forget everything, every single problem that was floating in her life and god knows that she had more than enough.

“Come for me, Mikasa”, Eren’s voice was still in that dark tone, just a fracture above a growl, “Come for me soldier.”

It was years since the raven was in the army, but maybe it was those deep-rooted instincts planted into her during her training years that made her body contract, to writhe wildly beneath him as she hit her second peak of the night. But as she was coming back from her high, her teary greys met Eren’s emeralds which were still burning, no end in sight.

“I said,”, moving closer, Eren whispered right into her ear, “We. Are. Not. Done.”

It was an amazing night. Mikasa was never left this exhausted before by nothing but pure pleasure. To top it off, Eren didn’t even leave after, letting her snuggle on his chest and breathe in that mixture of his scent and sex that made her toes curl. Yet when the morning came, she found herself alone in her bed.

Mikasa couldn’t say that she was surprised by this turn of events. Maybe they fucked a lot last night, but that did nothing to solve his situation. He still had a wife at home, a wife he might not love, but that he was legally bound to. Popping a cigarette, Mikasa walked over to the window and stared out, not bothering with any clothes. For the first time in her life, she felt comfortable wearing nothing, letting her scars out. If Eren could find them beautiful, there was no reason why she couldn’t get used to having them. They were here to stay. She chuckled at that, casting an inspecting eye over her apartment. It was still a mess, the only difference from last night was that Eren’s clothes were gone, he understandably took them with him when he sneaked out in the early hours of the morning, leaving behind the warm bed and the hug of the woman he completely fell for. Upon the inspection, Mikasa noticed something new. There was a note on her nightstand, a small folded paper he left behind, most likely an explanation of his actions, maybe an apology, a reason why he can never see her again. Taking it between her slender fingers, Mikasa’s lips turned upwards. She didn’t need this. The only thing that mattered was the phrase Eren kept whispering to her during their heated lovemaking.

We are not done yet.

Putting the slip of paper to her cigarette, she let it catch fire before throwing it out of the window, watching it spiral down and hit the ground. There was no reason for her to read that thing. Eren explained himself well enough last night, not by words but by actions, by how roughly yet lovingly he touched her, how long he kept her up with his passionate intensity. However, it was his mess to clean up, his decision to make, Mikasa made herself clear enough when she accepted his touches, when she spread her legs for him, when she took his length eagerly into her mouth. There was no need for words, written or other. Exhaling some smoke and watching it curl in the morning light, Mikasa felt at peace with the world for the first time since the shrapnel tore into her flesh. Life was good.

And it went on.

A month passed.

Then the second.

Then the third.

It was a fine day. Mikasa had a nice training with Louise, despite all the initial doubts she had for that rich brat the young girl was putting in work. A few more years and she might be a decent fighter herself. Tired from her own workout she had after, Mikasa didn’t have many things on her mind, just maybe that fight she had coming up, apparently she was going to take on some Russian. That was going to be fun. Walking into the bar, Mikasa took off her helmet, nodding at Jean behind the bar. He threw her a weirdly important look, pointing at a certain table. Following his finger with her eyes, Mikasa noticed that there is a man sitting there, his back to her, long brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

Mikasa instantly knew who it was.

As if in a dream, she crossed the distance to his table, sitting down in front of the long-haired fellow with those startlingly green eyes. Looking over him, she couldn’t help but notice that his fingers were free of any rings, wedding or other ones. Meeting the dreamy emeralds with her greys, she matched Eren’s smile with her own.

“Hey there, pretty boy, wanna buy me a drink?”

#eremika #fanfic #snk #aot #finale

21 notes · View notes

coffeecomicsgalore · 5 years ago

Text

A Night to Remember

Mention of Lila, Gabriel being a jackass, and of course some cute Marichat.

Ao3

Chapter 13 – The Kitty Apprentice

“What is the meaning of that interview, Adrien?” Gabriel stood at the top of the stairs as Adrien walked through the atrium doors. His usual scowl marked his face while his arms were crossed behind his body.

Adrien mentally sighed and rolled his eyes. “What ever do you mean, Father? I think the interview went well. I presented myself professionally and the media took my side over the relationship conundrum.”

“Do not play coy with me, boy. You know very well which part of the interview I am speaking about.” Gabriel made his way down the stairs. “You spewed hatred against Mlle. Rossi and made a mockery of her in front of millions of viewers!”

“And her reputation had spoken for herself during the akuma when she announced to everyone around her what she did to me and Marinette over the years!”

“Do you think that was necessary? Do you know that she came here and tried to argue your actions and tried to spew more slander against you while you were out gallivanting? Nathalie had to take a moment to escort her off the premises and give a statement to the press that have been staked out since the interview was broadcast, and who also saw the tantrum she displayed as she was escorted out.”

Adrien smirked at the idea of Lila throwing a child-like tantrum before turning back to his father with anger in his eyes. “She deserved it then for lying the way she did. All she did was slander my good name. Do you know what people said to me at school? The looks people gave me on the streets? They called me scum and a cheater. Do you want the face of Gabriel to be known as a cheater? Especially cheating on a sweet and innocent girl like Kagami? What I said needed to be said. She deserved every bit of spew that came out of my mouth.”

“Your disobedience continues to surprise me. All these years of grooming you to be a gentleman, to be poised and professional, and to be the perfect son and model, all for you to throw all that away for someone that stated a little white lie. All of that could be disclosed with a press conference, but you took it a step too far and renounced that girl on the news.”

“What’s done is done. If you want me to give out another statement, then fine, I will. But I’m done with her and her lies.” He stared down his father before walking around him and up the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Gabriel hissed.

Adrien continued towards his room and responded with a smug tone. “Going to my room. That’s where you send me when your angry with my actions. I just decided to take action and end this conversation myself.”

Gabriel just stood there bewildered over his son’s actions. He was only startled back to reality when Adrien’s door slammed shut. Nathalie, who had been watching from a distance, mirrored Gabriel’s facial expressions before shaking her head and clearing her throat and walking hesitantly towards the frozen man.

“Sir?”

“I’ll be in my office. Only disturb me if it is important.”

-----xoxox-----

Plagg shot out of his chosen’s blazer and curled up on the pillow on the bed. He was staring intently at Adrien, watching him pace the length of the room as he brushed his fingers through his hair.

“Why does he have to act so... so... cold?” Adrien bellowed. “All he ever cares about is his brand. He doesn’t care that I am being harassed as long as the brand isn’t affected by it.”

Adrien stopped his pacing and turned towards Plagg. “I can’t stand being here anymore! Why did I decide to move back here? Why couldn’t I have stayed with Marinette until we finished school? Why did I have to have a heart and hoped that Father would make an effort to change his demeanor after that moment of hostility towards him a few weeks ago? Why do I still care so much!”

The kwami frowned as he watched his charge gesticulate his feelings and shivered when the tears slowly fell from Adrien’s eyes. He floated slowly towards Adrien’s face and nuzzled up against his cheek.

“Why does he hate me so much?” His voice cracked in anguish.

Plagg knew that this lonely boy deserved so much more than what his father could give him. The pain in his chest and the sadness that poured through Adrien’s soul only confirmed it.

“Hey kid. I know things are hard right now. In a few months, you can finally move out on your own. Maybe even room with a friend who’s also heading to university near you. You don’t have to be here forever you know.” Adrien wiped the stray tears that streaked his face with his palm as he nodded at Plagg’s assurance. “Do you want to go out and clear your head?”

“You- You actually want to go out?” Adrien sniffled.

“Kid, I know when you need time to run. I get it. I would want to too if I had a dad like yours, and since you won’t let me cataclysm him, the next best thing is to keep up your rebellion streak tonight and head out while you still can.”

Adrien scratched Plagg in his favorite spot and told him to grab an extra bit of Camembert before he transformed. “I’ll give you a round when we get back.” Plagg purred in delight. “Plagg, claws out!”

-----xoxox-----

Chat Noir leaped across the skies while the shifting wind beat against his cheeks. He had no care in the world of where his destination would take him; all he cared was that he was far enough away from the cold and empty place of the mansion. He catapulted to one balcony and then hopped towards another, bolting left and right as he pushed the anger out of his body with every step he took. He felt like he was running for hours when he finally paused his run on a rooftop to catch his breath. When he looked around to determine where he was, he noticed a familiarity to the location. Peering to the left, he could see a light emanating from a skylight as the twinkle lights from a canopy glowed a yellow hue.

Marinette. He chuckled. Even as he mindlessly ran across the rooftops to clear his head, he still ended up at the home of the one person who could calm him down. If he needed more proof that he was in fact in love with this girl, then he would really have to be an idiot.

He hopped over to her balcony and tapped the glass of the skylight with his clawed finger. A short moment later, the blue-eyed girl pushed up on the glass and smiled sweetly to her visitor. “Chat? What do I owe this pleasure?”

“Princess,” he bowed “this stray cat was taking a rooftop stroll and happened to see you were still awake and I thought maybe she would like some company?” He smirked as he flexed in his usual Chat-like humor. “And maybe a round of Ultimate Mega Strike IV while enjoying some delicious pastries?”

Marinette shook her head as she quietly chuckled. “I’m sorry Chat, but I can’t play a game with you tonight. There is a dance at my school coming up and I have a few dresses I need to finish before then.”

Chat frowned. “I’m sorry, Marinette. I didn’t mean to bother you. I didn’t realize you were busy.” Chat turned around and grabbed his baton to extend it. “I’ll come back another night.”

“Wait!” Marinette reached out to grab onto his tail before he leaped away. He stopped and turned to her, noticing she was pressing her index fingers together as she thought about what she wanted to say next. “I didn’t say you had to leave. I just won’t be able to play video games tonight. I could use the company if you would still like to hang out?”

Chat smiled. “Of course, princess. How can I say no to that?”

Chat shimmied his way down the skylight after Marinette, careful of landing his boots away from her bed in case he still had any lingering dirt on them. He noticed that Marinette already made her way to her desk, grabbed her pincushion bracelet, and made her way over to the mannequin draped in a pink satin fabric. She started to pin up the waist, careful to pin the pleats in a uniformed size. He watched her in awe as she was laser-focused on the task at hand.

She could feel the gaze from the masked cat and an idea crossed her mind. Without looking up, she smirked at him. “If you’re going to stand there and watch me work while keeping me company, I might as well put you to work.” She placed one last pin before heading back to her desk and grabbing a pair of scissors. “I can trust you know how to use these, right?” He nodded. “On the table over there, there is a black pair of pants that I just hemmed. I would like it if you could cut here, here, and here. It doesn’t matter if there are frays; I need to finish the hem work anyways. I just need it to be as straight as possible. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Don’t worry, Marinette, I got this!”

Chat worked diligently on his task while Marinette pinned in the elastic waistband on the dress she was working on. Every so often, Chat would look around to all the almost-finished designs that were spread around the room. A kitty with an attention span of a goldfish would always be curious, so this curious kitty had to ask: “Who are these dresses for and what have you got planned for them?”

Marinette smiled with elation. “The pantsuit you are working on is for Alix. She didn’t want a dress, and I’m glad she didn’t - it just doesn’t fit her personality. The white top beside it goes with it. I just need her to wear it to ensure the fit, and hers is pretty much done. Max is her date and asked for a tie to match. Alya’s is the orange dress hanging up. I just need to finish the stitch work on the bodice and have the final fitting for it. She requested an orange tie for Nino, so that slice of fabric there is for me to work on. The black and purple fabric over there,” she said as she pointed to the folded satin fabric on the table, “is for Juleka – she wants something more form fitting, so that one will be a little more work than everyone’s as I need it to be just right. I’m starting on hers tomorrow. And this one,” Marinette pointed to her mannequin, “is Rose’s. She wants a ball gown inspired dress, but short and bubbly. Right now I’m just bunching up the pleats before I cut the fabric and hem it.”

Chat looked all around him. The designs that she had time to do plus the work already put into was incredible. She was going to be an amazing designer one day. Then a frown claimed his face. Where was her dress?

Marinette saw the concerned look on Chat’s face. “Are you okay, Chat?”

“Where is your dress, Marinette? You must have a date to the dance, don’t you?”

The smile she gave him didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t have a date yet. I haven’t started on my dress yet either.” She shrugged. “There is someone I hope that would ask me, but I’m not sure if he sees me more than a friend. I mean, he’s been acting sweeter towards me lately, but I don’t know if I’m reading too much into it or not. And I have an idea for a dress, but that can wait until I’m done with everyone’s first.”

Chat internally screams at the thought. Hopefully she means his civilian self. “Well you are pawsitively purrfect, princess. If he doesn’t take you, I will. And I know your dress will come out amazing.” Chat was smiling with a proud look on his face making Marinette snicker before throwing a pillow at his head.

“Thanks, Chat...” a warmth fills her chest that brought a loving smile to her face, “for everything.”

#a night to remember #Gabriel is trash #marichat #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #miraculous ladybug

23 notes · View notes

izayoichan · 5 years ago

Photo

The days until the adoption event went by much faster than any of them had counted for. Making sure the pets that they had for adoption were all chipped and spayed, as well as taking that extra bit of care in grooming them all to look their best. Chris and Hayle having donated a gift of professional grooming for a couple of days to help. They had also said they would handle food and drinks, and well, they knew that kept people around for longer. And people around for longer meant that the maybe in their mind could turn to a yes.

Hayden and Vy had taken up residence near the cats, as they were quite comfortable with him as well as the music dragging people to stay there just a little longer. Vy caring for the cats, a little vary at all the people there, but whenever someone had a question about the cats, he was the first to tell them what cat would fit them.

“Hay hay?” “Yeah?” “They will bring the kitties back, won’t they?” “No Vy, they will take them and give them a new forever home.” “Oh… but… River said…” “He said that so you wouldn’t be sad, but it means we can take in new cats, that we help become safe and cuddly ones so they can get new homes.”

Vy sits down next to Hayden for a bit, sad that the cats won’t come back, as he will miss them, but he is also happy they have a new home, and of course, it means that they get to know new cats.

“Is it the same with the stinkies?” “Yep.” “So new stinkies?” “Yeah, but don’t worry, we’ll not have you meet anyone that Rylan or River say isn’t safe.” “Good.” “I think we should focus on the new cats we get, I am sure there are some of them too that will need time and attention to feel safe and loved.” “Yes!”

Hayden poked Vy as a little girl stood with her mom and looked at the cats, Vy walking over to them talking with them for a bit, then nodding, walking to one of the cats, Hayden just smiling.

“This is Rosie, she is an older kitty, not a kitten, but she is calm, she loves sleeping in your bed at night and if you pat your lap, she will curl up there. She always follows you around, so I think she will be perfect for you.” “Can we have her mom?” “Didn’t you want a kitten?” “Another bonus us that she won’t claw your furniture or play-bite, and she is trained to use her litterbox.” “Please, mom?”

The little girl looked at her mom, having Rosie in her arms, the cat purring clearly happy there, the mother finally nodding, the two taking Rosie’s note with them to go get the papers. Vy going back to Hayden, sitting next to him listening to him play both noticing Rylan walking by with a rather large group following him. Even though River had kissed him in front of everyone, it would seem his fans were more than happy to follow him around for a tour, and it seemed that the amount of them never dwindled.

“I feel a little sorry for him.” “Me too, I don’t think he realized his own popularity.” “Oh?” “Yeah, it’s the company that handles all his accounts, and he had no meet & greets because he spends his time working here, or at home.” “Mmm.. how long will we stay?” “A little longer, then you can fly me home?” “Okay!”

Some hours later Rylan looks around as the crowd that has filled the shelter all day finally started to get smaller, and he found himself able to sit down and just have a small breather. It had been six hours since they opened the door, and this was the first time he wasn’t followed by groups of fans that wanted to have him tell them all about the animals and how this place was run. It was fun, but it was also a touch more than what he had expected than the day started. He knew quite a few of them had taken a pet home though, so it had been worth it. He looked over at his parents who were handing out drinks and food to those that were still there, deciding he could really need a drink himself after talking almost all day.

“Okay, remember to register Charlie and Millie at the town hall.”

River was handling the last of the paperwork, double-checking that the two had been chipped and the papers were correct.

“We will, these two have been all she has been talking about since she saw them.”

The woman smiles at her daughter who is holding Millie in her arms, while the woman is holding Charlie. The girl smiling widely and nodding at her mom.

“I didn’t get a picture with Rylan though, I was hoping too.” “I know, I’m sorry.” “There was just so many people, but, I got these two, my two new best friends!”

The little girl smiles widely as her enthusiasm is greeted with a purr and a small bark from Charlie and Millie, the two seem as smitten with their new owner as she was with them. River looking at the girl, nodding slightly.

“I think I can get Rylan to take a last photo with you two”

He looks around quickly noticing Rylan not too far from them.

“Just wait here okay?” “Okay.”

He makes his way quickly to where Rylan is, noticing he is walking somewhere as he wraps his arms around him from behind hugging him, which makes him turn around in his arms.

“Hey princess, what are you doing?” “Well I was going to get something to drink, but this feels like my plan has been foiled. So, what does my frog prince want?”

🎶

Beginning - Previous - Next

22 notes · View notes

uzumaki-rebellion · 5 years ago

Text

“Wet Sugar” [Part 1 of 30]

Summary: Erik Stevens has fully embraced his new identity as Killmonger and infiltrated a mercenary group with ties to Ulysses Klaue. Invited to St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands to meet for the first time, Klaue is impressed with Erik, unaware that the man before him is the son of Prince N'Jobu Udaku, a man he betrayed on a failed mission in Wakanda years ago.

Erik ingratiates himself to Klaue and is found to be a useful member of the new mercenary team the black market arms dealer and smuggler is putting together.

As a reward for hard and profitable work for him, Ulysses allows Erik to stay a summer at his stash/safe house to keep a close eye on some stolen artifacts hidden there. Erik uses that time to hatch the long term plan of using Klaue to gain access to Wakanda, however, he becomes distracted by Klaue's housekeeper who allows Erik glimpses into a possible different life he could have if he ever let go of his plans for revenge...

For mature audiences only. NSFW.

C.W.: Some violence in the beginning.

Please let me know what you think, share/reblog/etc. Off to get the next update up and ready!

"Bad man, nuh talk, West London me walk No bad vibes in mi yard, or yuh hear di ting back (boom) Gyally dem ah call, see the money and the car Celly ah ring off, rum-rum, haffi start, ya hear me? Mi buss ah Champ' and then they watch we, ya hear me? Mi have di liquor and di big tree, ya hear me? No commotion in my circle Potent herb and a sweet, sweet girl Take you 'round the world No-no-no bad vibes in my yard, hmm Inna my yard, inna my yard, inna my yard…"

Goldlink – "Yard"

What's past is prologue…

Ulysses Klaue had heard rumors of a large hoard of ancient gold coins worth €4 million hidden inside Assyrian-era giant winged bulls. The entire cache of five-foot statues themselves could not be transported nor disguised because of their weight and size, but some of the heads were removed and sold on the black market. Dating back 3,000 years, they were a hot commodity after the destruction of the Mosul Museum in Iraq. Klaue knew this because he had buyers salivating for a chance to procure the heads. And some of those heads had coins hidden in them. It was why he found himself standing now in front of a tall young Black man, American, with gold slugs on his two bottom canines, and a mop of neatly braided locs.

Klaue stared at the intel he had on his field computer.

"You're saying the statues we're looking for are gone already?" Klaue asked.

"ISIL already transported all that shit."

Wide-legged stance, protective ballistic body armor draped over an impressive build, his hands holding an AR-15 pointed right at Klaue's head, this man was in control of the situation. He had five other men from his team standing behind him backing him up with their weapons drawn too. Serious beefy looking men who would shoot if their leader even blinked. The red dot on Klaue's chest was a polite way of letting him know there were snipers on his ass too.

"Stand down," Klaue ordered his men behind him. A rough motley crew of six international soldiers of fortune.

"Alhusul ealaa al'ashya' alkhasat bihim," the Black man said.

Men that Klaue and his team didn't even know were behind them materialized like ghosts, snatching up their weapons and frisking them for more.

"Is this necessary?" Klaue asked as a thick-set mercenary felt on his balls and behind his back squeezing his ass.

"Gotta be thorough in this bitch."

Klaue smirked.

"May I ask who I have the pleasure of getting my nuts tweaked by?" Klaue said.

The man rolled his tongue along his bottom teeth, the gold slugs shining in the sunset. He nodded his head to his team to round Klaue's men up. Once the men were secured and a non-threat, the man lowered his weapon. His dark brown eyes were razor sharp and they regarded Klaue with calculated verve.

"Killmonger."

###

The oldest profession in the world was prostitution.

The second…killers for hire.

Of course, there were kinder more veiled names for mercenaries nowadays:

Soldiers of Fortune.

Private Military Contractors.

Professional Hired Fighters.

Dogs of War.

But Erik "Killmonger" Stevens knew what it was. Murder Incorporated—monetized madness.

The business of war was to keep a perpetual cycle of conflict all over the world so fat cats could make their coins under the guise of professional conflict management. If his mother were still alive, she would say what she always said around her women friends and his very own father…men were trash.

And she was right.

Unfortunately, she gave birth to a son who had to maneuver among the garbage so that he could fulfill his destiny. A destiny of revenge. A making right of what had been wrong for so long.

On the days that he did have downtime and could sit and do nothing at all, Erik would catch a news report or some ticker tape lede on the bottom of C-SPAN, CNN, MSNBC, or the BBC—just about any global news outlet—and catch glimpses of his final endgame. T'Chaka Udaku.

A king.

An elder statesmen.

A blood relative.

A lifelong enemy.

Erik's body would coil tight and hot when he let his mind imagine the day he would be in the presence of his Uncle. He foresaw the moment he would pull back the thick flesh of his bottom lip, the glowing blue vibram tattoo his father gave him as a child embedded deep in the skin of his inner mouth.

He ached to show the ring his father had left for him dangling around his neck, ached to taste and feed on the moment he would reveal all to King T'Chaka, unveil his birthright, and then snap the old man's neck with his bare hands, appreciating the feel of vertebrae cracking and twisting beneath his powerful calloused fingers. Or maybe he would fashion panther claws for himself and rip the man's heart out through his chest. Erik relished the thought. He would bring down—no…eradicate—he would eradicate the old House of Udaku, destroy T'Chaka's bloodline branch and take the throne of Wakanda for himself. A new sun would set on the golden city of Birnin Zana, the place of his father's birth.

Erik was his father's son, but he was also his mother's child, and Califia Stevens didn't raise no simpering punk. He was taught to be a soldier the moment he fell out of his mother's womb. The war he was going to rage was groomed by all of the things that happened in his life and all the things he was learning while biding his time in the ranks of private armies. Sitting back in the cut, gathering new skills and Intel, moving closer to finding the man he needed to get him into Wakanda: Ulysses Klaue. A man who sat at the top of his kill list for right now.

Erik sat crossed-legged overlooking a sand berm keeping watch for a particular caravan of armored S.U.V.s to traverse their path. The sun was making its way to a sluggish sunset, and his military-issue sunglasses protected his tired eyes. He hadn't slept in forty-eight hours and the job he was meant to complete was only halfway finished.

Earlier in the day, his crack team of fifteen men pulled off a bold daytime robbery of highly-sought after Assyrian gold coins. Disguised as U.N. peace-keepers dedicated to preserving artifacts, Erik was the only American on the removal team. He was tasked with masquerading as an art historian since the Canadians with them couldn't sound like authentic Londoners. The non-prescription glasses he wore and the crisp British accent he perfected allowed him to dupe a few Iraqi guards, especially with his fluency with Arabic and his thoughtful acknowledgment of Jumu'ah, the Friday prayers.

While Erik pretended to sit aside respectfully on an offered prayer rug in the midst of an isolated bunker holding the goods they sought, his phony U.N. gear a bit too tight, the guards thanked him for respecting their time in contemplation of Allah. The beneficent. The merciful. Moments later they were tied up and blind-folded left shackled together in the interior of the ravaged bunker that hid the last of the priceless winged bull statues that were hidden for their protection. Erik did let them finish their prayers though.

Time wasn't wasted, what needed to be found was found and bagged up, the heavy weight of the gold bending the backs of five men carting it out onto phony U.N. Jeeps. On the wings of hummingbirds as his great-grandmother used to say when it came to speed and efficiency. An expert strategist and obsessive pre-planner, Erik facilitated the logistics and implementation of the entire operation. They had to be gone before dusk as the heavy hitters from various political factions began to roam. The dry heat was fucking exhausting, made breathing laborious, and the lack of sleep was messing with Erik's focus. His men were ready to dip, but he had to wait, had to take the chance that the man he was scouting for would show.

"Killmonger."

Tahir, the one man Erik considered as close of a so-called friend with the work that he did, stood next to him, his AK-47 resting on his hip, his tan and black shemagh covering his neck and head. Erik glanced up, his own shemagh twisting around his neck tight. He loosened it.

"We should probably leave while it is still quiet."

"Nah. We got time." Gruff and brusque. That's how Erik kept it with the men.

Tahir placed his left hand on his hip and glanced behind him. He was always the one sent to question Erik. The rest were afraid of him, afraid of his quick temper. Afraid of the self-inflicted keloid scars that covered most of his upper body.

Erik looked past Tahir, could see the only other two Iraqis, Amit, and Wassef eyeing him from their sniper positions. He could feel the eyes of the others on him, the Greek, the Egyptian, the two Jordanians, the Russian and the three Canadians. The rest were hidden with their two Mi-17's a quarter of a mile away among the bullet-ridden wreckage of left behind helicopters from failed wars inflicted by the U.S. military.

"We have the gold. Let's go get paid and have some drinks. We can be in Lebanon in a few hours, I know some pretty girls, some nice clubs…"

"We'll wait. I need to see if this dude shows," Erik said, softening his tone with Tahir.

"You should eat something."

"Later," Erik whispered as he saw the approach of the caravan he was looking for.

###

A smart mercenary always checked out their target before any engagement. Someone on Klaue's team didn't do their homework and Erik had the man in his crosshairs. Klaue was shorter and ruddier than he thought the man would be. His reputation seemed larger than life, but the reality was a bit of a disappointment. Little dick energy all the way around. He was also slipping because Erik knew for a fact that some of his men tipped Erik's team off to the coins in the abandoned bunker. Getting past I.E.D's, insurgents, and American PMC checkpoints, Klaue's people looked pretty sorry in front of their main man being plucked by Erik.

"Listen, Killmonger. We'll just be on our way. No harm, no foul," Klaue said as he sat on the ground looking up at Erik.

No harm no foul. Yeah, right. Klaue would take any opening to put a bullet in Erik's head, and in the dome of whoever allowed this clusterfuck on his side.

"We just came for statues," Klaue said.

"With what? Three S.U.V.s? You can't even fit the head of one statue in those. Come again."

Klaue's eyes grew suspicious. Just as Erik expected.

"We have the coins," Erik said.

Klaue let his head drop down and he chuckled, his gold-rimmed teeth glinting. The snake had to come up with a plan fast.

The rat-a-tat-tat-tat sound of machine gun fire in the distance caught Erik's attention. Time was up. It was time to set the trap for this man. Erik knelt down.

Takka takka!

The gunfire was ticking closer.

"Just take the fucking coins and let us go."

An AR-15 near him and Klaue wasn't even flinching. The sweat on his forehead was just from the heat. Erik flipped his weapon behind him.

"I don't give a fuck about those coins. My boss does. But I'm here for something more valuable and it's not here." Erik kept his voice low enough so that only Klaue could hear him.

Klaue's eyes observed him with keen curiosity.

Erik dipped closer to Klaue's ear lobe, making his own men nervous. Erik's sour breath warmed Klaue's ear.

"I'm looking for vibranium," Erik said. He sat back on his haunches and tapped the man's prosthetic left arm that was bound tight. Erik wasn't taking any chances. He was well aware that the arm was a dangerous weapon. Klaue could easily wipe them out, but he was a pursuer of information, and more than illicit goods, useful intel was golden. This bitch was squirming on the hook. None of these motherfuckers around them knew what vibranium was.

"Who are you?" Klaue said, his voice sounding like it was in awe.

"The stash that was supposed to be here isn't. I don't know who got to it first, but it wasn't you or me—"

SSssss-BLAM!

The RPG came in fast and destroyed the first S.U.V. in Klaue's entourage.

Erik's men returned fire for cover as Tahir radioed for their choppers to extract them and the gold. Erik grabbed Klaue by his collar and hoisted him up to his feet. Tahir threw a yellow smoke grenade and stood in front of Erik and Klaue.

The hard whop-whop sounds of their Mi-17s surrounded them as Wassef and Amit slung their RPGs on their shoulders and returned rocket grenades to buy them time. The first chopper landed and their surly Canadian side gunner Wally G rolled the chopper door open and waved for them frantically.

"We got incoming from the north," Wally G yelled.

Erik's men quickly loaded their bounty of gold and split up to enter both choppers for the extraction.

"Move your asses!" Wally G screamed.

Erik yanked on the handcuffed and rope-bound Klaue and dragged him over to the first Mi-17 and threw him in.

"Let's go!" Erik yelled propping his AR-15 in position to help protect his side gunners on the chopper. His return fire bought Tahir more time to move.

Amit fired one last RPG to protect Klaue's men. Erik sent most over to the second chopper, and once Amit jumped aboard the first Mi-17, Erik waved his arm and their pilot Elias took off.

A sizeable enemy force swept into where they once stood. The chopper Erik was on was picking up fire from everywhere. Erik shot back from the open door and he could hear Elias bitching from the cockpit.

"Why the fuck did you have us wait?" Elias screeched.

"Just fly the fucking bird!" Erik shouted while still returning fire.

A stream of fuel ran down the inside of the chopper’s windscreen.

"Fuck!" Elias yelled, "One of my feed tanks is out!"

"Jesus Christ!" a man screamed.

Erik looked back into the rear of the chopper, two of Klaue's men had been hit, the screams of the wounded mixing in with the rapid-fire babble of Erik's men trying to figure out their next move. They were outnumbered by the men on the ground and the number of vehicles chasing after the limping Mi-17.

They were spilling volumes of fuel.

"Stop fucking shooting!" Erik cried out. All he needed was for one of their bullets to ricochet and spark the fuel vapors filling up the chopper. They could explode in mid-air.

"I gotta put her down, Killmonger!"

Erik moved to the cockpit and grabbed the radio.

"Banks! Banks! We gotta find a clear LZ. We've been hit!"

"Dammit, Killmonger!" Banks fired back with crackled intensity through the radio speaker.

Erik and the others felt the sudden drop and swoop of the chopper as Elias did his best to make a soft landing.

Night had fallen and Erik's men disembarked with Klaue's men. Through it all, Klaue was cool as a cucumber, watching Erik's every move. Tahir, eased over to Erik, his eyes watching the horizon as vehicle lights traced them in the distance.

"Too many of us, we all won't fit," Tahir grumbled.

"I'll make it work," Erik hissed, his eyes thwarted by the flash and hiss of an enemy RPG.

"Incoming!" Tahir screamed, and the grenade blew up a mere two hundred feet from them tossing dark sand into the air.

The second chopper pilot, Banks, landed and they loaded up. They were more than the number of bodies allowed based on the flight manual. Erik pulled Klaue up by his arms.

"Crunching numbers time. Who do you fuck with and who did you dirty?" Erik asked.

"Killmonger!" Banks yelled.

The enemy was getting closer.

Klaue glared at his men, his eyes going to the three that Erik already knew played him. Erik gave a cruel sneer and cut Klaue loose from the rope that bound his arms.

"See ya!" Erik said giving Tahir a head nod. The men were pushed out of the chopper.

"Klaue!" one of them screamed.

"Let's go!" Erik shouted to Banks.

The Mi-17 lifted up and Klaue's traitorous men flailed their arms begging to be taken.

Erik heard the sharp hiss and loud explosion of an RPG down below.

He already knew those men were in bloody pieces now. His eyes glanced over at Klaue who was stuffed between two of his henchmen. Erik's boys watched them like hawks, but Erik wasn't worried about them trying anything. Their lives had been saved. If Erik and his crew weren't there, they would've been killed by turncoats. Gold coins were probably the last things on their minds as the Mi-17 dipped and swooped amid rocket grenades.

The chopper headed toward a remote airstrip.

Erik stared at Tahir and grabbed at his stomach.

"Yo, I'm hungry as fuck."

###

The mid-morning American Airlines flight touched down at the Cyril E. King Airport with a soft bounce. Walking down the ramp and onto the tarmac, the wet heat engulfed Erik's face. He wore a light cream-collared linen long-sleeve shirt and loose jeans. He always kept his arms covered when he traveled, his keloid markings too much of a distraction in public. His two large bags were waiting for him at guest services. His flight from Miami had been delayed because of tropical storm weather, but for some strange reason, his luggage went out on an earlier flight.

He saw one of Klaue's men holding a handwritten sign with his name on it. Killmonger. Erik waved and carried his things to the tall Black man with the clean-shaven face and dark mocha skin.

"I'm Polk," the man said. Polk was dressed in comfortable basketball shorts, a plain white t-shirt and slip on sandals. Vacation gear.

They shared a handshake and Erik followed him out to a nice burgundy Mazda S.U.V. idling with another burly man in the driver's seat.

"That's Huntsman," Polk said helping Erik put his suitcases in the trunk.

Huntsman regarded Erik cooly, his pale white skin sunburned and overly pink in spots as Erik stepped into the back of the Mazda.

"Welcome to the team," Huntsman said and Erik picked up the Afrikaans accent in his voice.

"Thanks," Erik said.

"You hungry? We can grab something on the way to the house," Polk said as he stared back at Erik from the passenger seat.

"Nah, I'm good," Erik said.

Erik had to orient himself to the driving once he realized St. Thomas residents drove on the left side like the English.

"We have our own cook, so if you do get hungry later, she can whip something up for you," Polk said. Erik nodded, his eyes watching the crowd of cars jammed on the two-lane road leading away from the airport.

The scenery eventually swept past as they drove into Charlotte Amalie. Erik saw the port dock that housed the large cruise ships, floating cities on the way up into the hills.

"You ever been to the islands before?" Polk asked.

"Nah. Never found the time," Erik said still staring out of the window.

St. Thomas was not very big, only thirty-two square miles. In about twenty minutes the car was already crawling into an area of hills that elevated them. Erik noticed quite a few green and multi-colored iguanas lounging in the street and meandering on the sides of the road.

"Harmless," Polk said when he noticed Erik staring at them, "they are everywhere. Think of them as the squirrels of the island."

Erik nodded.

"We're here," Huntsman said.

The Mazda entered a guarded gate. Once it was opened and they drove through, Erik realized they were actually on a compound that had a grouping of houses. They parked in front of the main house. Polk helped Erik with his things.

"I'll walk him down to our area," Polk said.

Erik rolled his heaviest suitcase and trailed Polk as they made their way down a path blooming with colorful foliage and crawling with more iguanas. One large iguana blocked their path and Erik looked at the regal creature. It was blue and pink in the face with a mottled pink and brown body that had what looked like green plant-like growths on it. It hissed and Polk had them walk around it with a wide berth.

"Harmless, but a bit of an attitude sometimes," Polk said.

Erik chuckled and soon found himself entering a tastefully furnished house.

"You can have the room on the right. When we get full, we usually have to bunk with people, but this first week there are only eight of us here, so plenty of room and privacy.

Erik nodded.

"I'll let you get settled. Meet us at the front house around 1 p.m.? Klaue will want to see you for lunch."

Erik nodded and Polk left him alone.

The room assigned to Erik was nice and airy. He opened the window across from his bed to bring in the fresh island air. Unpacking slowly and methodically, he organized his space and was happy that he had his own bathroom.

He took a quick shower to wash away the flight and travel sweat from his body. He touched the two new keloid scars under the waterproof bandage that his cousin Marisol helped place on his lower back the month before. They were healing, slowly, the itch and scarring pain still present. Lately, he had been flying to Sao Paulo Brazil more often, and Marisol was not happy to perform the scarring ritual for him anymore, especially when his visits brought her pain because they were short-lived, often only for two or three days and then he was gone to the next assignment. She knew what the marks were for. She had one on her own side hip that he helped put there for her.

He allowed the water to run over his locs and then tilted his head back, letting the cool liquid drench his beard. He was tired and antsy at the same time. He had to be very careful in the lion's den.

"What are you doing down here?"

The melodious voice startled him, it was so close to the small frosted window he cracked open in the bathroom, and he turned to try and see who was speaking.

Erik was about to answer, but then he realized the person wasn't talking to him at all but to someone else outside.

"What I tell you 'bout coming down here? Don't look at me like that. You stay up above. Hear me now?"

The woman's island voice was sweet, lyrical almost, and had the fussy quality that reminded him of his great-grandmother when she was fussing with his mother. Whoever she was addressing didn't answer.

"Jerome! You hear me. Get yourself back up top. Now!"

Erik heard the stomping of feet.

"What are you doin' making all this noise?"

Another woman's voice joined the first.

"Jerome. His wife and alla his pickney up at the front house waiting on him. And he's down here being nosey. Get!"

"Gyal! Leave that thing alone. Him no listen to all that shrillness comin' from your mouth. Like he'll understand you—"

"They understand me. When I told him to move his ass from the driveway before that devil man ran him over, you seen how fast he move. Him know what I say. Right, Jerome?"

Erik dried off and tried to get dressed in fresh clothes fast when he heard a knock on the front door.

"Inside," the voice of the second woman greeted him kindly.

Erik pulled on a pair of black sweats and opened the front door.

An older woman with graying neat plaits stared at his chest. The scars startled her.

"Sorry," she said averting her eyes. Her hands carried clean beach towels and sunblock.

"It's cool," Erik said. His eyes swept past her looking for the person he heard moments before.

"I'm Miss Leona. I do the cooking and help take care of the property. I came down to ask if you had any food allergies."

"No, I can eat anything."

"Good," she said, her eyes focusing on his face. The graying hair didn't seem to match her youthful face and big bright white teeth.

"Just so you know, bathroom etiquette is simple. If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down. Use the bottled water for drinking, and all laundry can be done at the front house in the laundry room down below. There's a little apartment down there. Just drop the things you need to be cleaned in the laundry bag—"

"I can do my own laundry," Erik said.

Leona nodded and handed him the towels and sunblock.

"We have a pool at the middle house, and if you prefer sea water, there's a path by the pool that leads down to the private beach area. The water is very warm this season, and stays warm into the night."

Leona allowed her eyes to flit across his chest as she regarded his scars again.

"Is that…is that a condition? Do you need any creams or ointments? I can bring some—"

"I'm good. Thank you for asking."

"I don't mean to stare Mr. Killmonger. I have a nephew that has some tissue damage on his back, and it looks like that."

"No worries."

"I will leave you be then—"

"Who was the person you were talking to a minute ago? I heard someone else and she was talking to someone…Jerome?"

Leona laughed and pointed behind her.

"That was just Yani, my niece. She helps me out around here. She was just chatting with him."

Leona pointed and Erik saw the rainbow-colored iguana perched on a small tree in front of the house.

Erik smiled.

"I thought she was really talking to someone."

"Oh, she was. She and Jerome have a history together. She's known him since he was a baby. He doesn't listen to anyone but her."

"He's a big dude."

"Yes. But he won't bother you if you don't bother him. Get Yani if he does give you trouble."

"Will do. Thanks. How many houses are on the property?"

"Three. Mr. Klaue stays in the house down below. The two other houses are for his…men."

"Okay. Thanks Miss Leona."

"You're welcome. I will see you at lunch then? Mr. Klaue likes a late lunch, so I usually have things prepared by 1:30. Today will be a light sesame salad with salmon."

"Any local fish?"

"Sometimes. Mr. Klaue has me ship in things when he wants them. See you at lunch!"

Leona left him, and he was left standing in front of Jerome who watched him with wary eyes from his place in the tree.

"Don't make me call Yani on your ass," he said glaring at the iguana.

Erik finished dressing in a short-sleeved soccer shirt. He laced up a pair of New Balance sneakers and took a walk around the property.

He walked around the small pool that was only six feet deep and found the trail that led down to the beach. If Leona hadn't told him there was a path near the pool, he would never have found it. As it was, he felt secretive slipping down the hill and working his way to the sounds of open water.

"Whoa," he sighed when he finally found the entrance to a breathtaking sight. Clear water with soft sugary white sand and a beautiful view of an isolated smaller island further out in the sea. The sun beat down on him and he looked around to see if there was anyone else around. No one. It was quiet and hidden by part of a cove that had rock structures that curved away from where Erik stood. There were no other footprints or signs of any other human presence.

The water called to him.

Erik looked around again, then slipped off his shoes, pants, underwear and shirt. What a way to start his first day in paradise. He splashed into the water and it felt like he was crawling into the womb of life, the warmth cradling his tired limbs.

Paradise.

The place where he would plot against Klaue. Right in his own home.

###

Yani Galiber was always fussing with Jerome.

Ever since she rescued him from his first car accident as a baby when one of Klaue's drivers ran over his tail seven years previous. She had been fourteen and devastated, thinking her little friend would die. But then his tail grew back and she had been fussing with him ever since.

She was sent by her Aunt Leona to check the water cistern on Klaue's main house where he stayed. Sometimes an iguana would fall in and clog the waterway, and the man had been asking about water pressure. She made a point to check the roof gutters that helped collect water in case there was plant refuse or some other detritus stuck up there. When she ran into Jerome on the way back up, she noticed cuts on his skin. He must've been fighting the other male iguana that had moved into his territory. Unlike most of the iguanas around the property, Jerome was a drama queen and started trouble with other iguanas that weren't his children or mates, and sometimes he went after humans he didn't like.

After leaving her Aunt with Jerome, she headed back to the front house to grab a soda before her Aunt had her helping with lunch. She thought she may have time use her breast pump in private to fix her baby daughter Sydette's bottles for the evening when she had to go to work at her night job as a hostess at Havana Blue, a beach-front restaurant in the main part of Charlotte Amalie. Her cousin Monice would pick her up by 2:30 and drop her off at her Aunt Leona's apartment where she would spend time with Sydette before handing her over to her other cousin Twyla who would watch Sydette until Yani made it home to sleep. And depending on how busy Klaue kept her Aunt, Yani would travel back and forth to help work at the compound.

Yani cobbled together a life and set her sights on saving enough money to attend nursing school since her university plans of becoming a doctor had been derailed with the birth of her daughter. It was still a touchy subject with her parents who had allowed her to take a year off after she graduated high school to follow the crazy dream she had with her then-boyfriend Chez who was going to be the biggest rapper from St. Thomas after he was signed to a small record company in Miami.

Yani had sung background vocals for him around island clubs there and when they island hopped to Puerto Rico or Jamaica and as far as Trinidad. Chez was supposed to make it big and pay for Yani's education, but a year after graduating, Yani fell pregnant, she broke up with Chez, he lost the record contract due to a failed single not charting anywhere, and she was stuck living with her cousin and Aunt because she couldn't afford anywhere on her own and her parents didn't want the stigma in their home among her younger sisters. She was the tainted oldest child who had thrown her life away by having a baby with a SoundCloud level struggle rapper. For shame.

Her baby girl Sydette was a joy, but Yani found it difficult to nurse a baby and still try and nurse a medical career of some kind. A nurse was about as high as she could go now, and she set her sights on getting into the nursing college of her choice the following year. She just needed to get her money right to help take care of Sydette and tuition.

Klaue's compound was a way to make good money, especially when he had a lot of people there. Her Aunt Leona always made sure to pull her in to work for the under the table cash. Klaue paid well. The more men there, the more they made.

Yani and her Aunt were fully aware that Klaue was into some nefarious dealings. Even though he owned two jewelry stores, one in Charlotte Amalie, and one on St. John island, they were just legal fronts for some bad guy stuff. Leona didn't think they were drug dealers, but they did sell something illegal. Did something that required a private compound and sometimes armed guards when Klaue was gone. But as long as the money was good and they stayed out of the way when not needed, Yani had no problem working there. Her Aunt had been doing it for twelve years.

Yani took some time to slip into a bedroom in the front house with her breast pump. She filled three bottles and put them in a plastic bag inside the kitchen freezer to take home later for Sydette. Bottles made, she helped prepare lunch with her Aunt. All the houses were clean and prepped for Klaue's people, so Yani enjoyed the respite.

"What time are they eating, Auntie?"

"Mr. Klaue said around 1:30."

Yani washed her hands in the kitchen sink. She sneaked a nectarine from a bowl on the dining table.

"That's for the guests."

"They won't miss one piece of fruit."

"Where you goin'?"

"The beach—"

"Don't stay down there all day, Yani—"

"Just a quick dip. I promise."

"I'll need your help putting things out—"

"I'll be back. Quick, quick…" she said flouncing out of sight.

###

The path was a tiny sanctuary.

It felt like she was traveling into a secret garden.

Even though she grew up around water all her life, was nicknamed The Mermaid because of her love for it and knew practically every bay and cove on the island, there was something special about this small patch of land that led to this particular little private beach. Private only because the topography made it difficult for small boats to get to and tourists to walk without having to climb some terrain.

Klaue wasn't a swimmer, not all that much anyway, and his men never came down this way, so it was hers. Yaniland.

She ate the nectarine and began pulling her top off when she halted, fruit dangling between her teeth.

Someone was in her private paradise.

A man was swimming in her water.

She felt vexed until she walked closer.

He was floating naked on his back oblivious to her gawking at him full of irritation. He was spoiling her space. She pulled the fruit from her mouth.

"Hey! You out there! What are you doin' here?"

The man dunked under the crystal waters and when he came back up, he shook loose locs around the crown of his head.

Yani shielded her eyes.

"You talking to me?" he asked.

"You see anyone else here?"

"Why you so salty? You don't even know me, Ma!"

"Ma? You call me your mother? Do I look like your mother to you?"

"Relax Steve Irwin—"

"What you call me?"

"You the one talking to the iguana?"

"What iguana?"

"Earlier, up at the middle house…Jerome."

Yani scrunched up her face.

"How you know I talked to Jerome?"

"I was in the house. I'm the new guy."

"Killmonger?"

"Yeah."

"Who told you to come down here?"

"Your Aunt."

Yani sucked her teeth. It was loud enough for him to hear and he laughed at her.

"Is this your private beach?"

"No," she said folding her arms across her chest.

"Then I can swim here."

He moved in closer until the water was at his waist.

There were bumps all over his chest and waist, but none below…

Lookie.

His privates were distorted a bit from the sun's angle hitting the water, but she could see it closer. She felt her eyes fuse in her skull. She was staring at a naked man she didn't know.

"Were you planning on getting in? I can leave if you want some privacy."

"I was, but you can stay in…"

He looked down at himself then back at her.

"I'll leave—"

"Wait!"

Yani stepped back and her nectarine fell out of her hand.

"I don't want to make this weird for you. I'll leave first so you can swim or put your clothes on."

"Close your eyes. You walked all the way down here to enjoy yourself. I'll put on my stuff and let you have at it."

Yani closed her eyes and she heard the splash of water as the man left the sea.

"All good now," he said.

When she opened her eyes, he had his sweatpants on and held his shirt and shoes in his hands.

"Yani?" he asked.

"Yeah…"

She felt her voice die in her throat when she saw his bottom canines between his lips. She wasn't shy about staring at his scars. He was much taller than her.

Killmonger.

This was the man Klaue was bragging on the last two days. The man that Polk and Huntsman grumbled about at the dinner the previous night. It seemed Killmonger had favor with Klaue and those two brutes didn't like it so much. Yani had heard Huntsman call the man an ursurper. She expected to see some piggish white man with swine-like features and dragon fire spewing from his mouth. The only unsettling thing about him was the keloid scars. And only because they didn't look random at all nor accidental.

"You not hot wearing that on your head?" he asked.

Yani touched the top of her head. She still had her beanie on from earlier in the day. It had been cold that morning when she arrived. She wore a dark Naruto t-shirt and baggy orange sweats and just because he mentioned her head cover, she suddenly felt overheated wearing so much clothing on the beach. The heat was beating her down. She needed to be in the water. But she needed him to leave because she too liked to swim nude. But now that he knew about this place, she would probably have to change the times she came down. And she most definitely couldn't swim naked again while he was here. He was ruining everything.

She pulled her beanie off. Her scalp was grateful, her short buzz cut allowing the heat to toast the dyed blonde hair on her head.

"I'll go check on Jerome," he said.

Up close his voice had a playful raspy quality to it. His gold slugs peeked at her again when he smiled. He had dimples like her Sydette.

"Oh!" she said.

She wanted to grab her breasts when she felt her nipples leaking suddenly.

"What?" he asked, his face looking curious.

"I forgot something!"

She took off running back up to the front house clutching at her chest.

Leona was clearing space on the dining table for the lunch meal when Yani ran in.

"What's going on?"

"My titties are leaking."

"You're not wearing that special padded bra I bought for you? I got you four of those to help with that.

"I forgot," Yani called from the bathroom. She wiped down her nipples and stuffed tissue inside her bra to soak up anything else that decided to express itself from her tits. She couldn't wait for Sydette to be done with breastfeeding so her titty milk could dry up.

She walked out of the bathroom to find her Aunt talking to Killmonger and she felt her nipples acting up again. The tissue would have to work miracles.

Watching Killmonger converse she noticed how giddy her Aunt was acting with him. He was sweet with her, asking questions about the island, about her, what she did when she didn't work at the house. Before she knew it, lunch was ready and Killmonger was helping Leona bring the food to the table. Now he was taking over her job.

The other men arrived and Yani joined her Aunt in the kitchen to stay out of their way. Klaue sat at the head of the table with Killmonger by his side, and when she heard the new man speak again, she realized that her tits were reacting to his voice, her milk was leaking again. Only her baby could do that to her sometimes when she cried or needed something.

What the hell was this man doing to her?

She pressed her fingers against her nipples to push the tissue paper closer to her tips.

Who was he?

###

Smooth sun-kissed brown skin. Lips plump. Eyes big and bright. Eyebrows dark and thick.

Yani favored her Aunt and Erik found himself staring at her while he ate lunch with the men and Klaue.

One minute she was making him feel like he didn't belong in her space and the next he was watching her run away from him, her thick ass cheeks bouncing and making him think thoughts he had put aside. He hadn't been with a woman for about three months and quite frankly, hadn't missed the company because of all the work he had been doing. Once he hooked Klaue into his orbit, all Erik could think about was Wakanda and waiting for the perfect time to move on the East African nation.

She was young. This girl, Yani. Probably in her twenties. Mouthy. He liked that. Saw him naked and didn't give a fuck. Until he came closer to her. Then she became modest, probably for his sake and hers. A young woman like her around some treacherous men, she had to be careful.

He wasn't the only one peeping her in the kitchen at lunch. Huntsman was clocking her also. This bothered Erik. So openly wanton.

She was covered up looking like some skater punk he could see on any street corner back home, but she had some curves that strained against the sweatpants. Waist tight probably from swimming a lot. Full breasts. It was the blonde hair that made her dark eyebrows pop. Right now, those eyebrows were furrowed and she was looking right at him. Like she was still mad he had trespassed on her world. The girl who spoke affectionately to iguanas like they were human and yelled at him like he was a big lizard. Erik gave her a grin and she cut her eyes to look at her Aunt who was washing dishes.

By the time lunch was over, Yani was reaching into a refrigerator and grabbing a plastic bag and leaving the house for the day.

The rest of the day was a period of rest and acclimation.

Klaue didn't want to talk shop until the next day, and Erik was happy he could just wander the secure compound. He spotted security cameras everywhere. He learned that each house could be locked down from the inside and secured easily. Klaue called the estate "Our Lady's Manor", naming it after Leona who Klaue affectionately referred to as "My Lady" every chance he got. Leona didn't seem to mind, and she got on well with Klaue in that practiced way that Black people had when in the employ of white people. Klaue may have thought they were close, like family even by the way he fawned over her, but Leona was about her job and getting her work done as expeditiously as possible without getting in anyone's way. Friendly but distant. Smart woman. Klaue was not to be trusted. The presence of guns and ammo didn't faze her or Yani. Money was money.

Erik looked for Yani at dinner and she wasn't around for it. Gone for the rest of the night he assumed. He didn't want to ask Leona about her, afraid of making the older woman suspicious of him for asking about her young niece. He just wanted to let her know that he would be going to the beach early in the morning so that she could have her own personal beach time.

Erik slept well in his new room after smoking some decent herb that Polk gave him to tune out. When his alarm went off at five in the morning, he slipped into some light blue swim trunks and walked barefoot at dawn to the beach.

Body rested, mind clear and sharp, he felt like the wind had been punched out of him when he saw Yani in the water already.

Naked.

Water pearled down her cinnamon brown skin as if she wore diamonds in the early morning waves. Her hips flared out showcasing the beauty of her round posterior that flexed as she poured water over her head.

Once, when he was a child, Erik's mother had taken him to carnival in Sao Paulo and while standing next to his play cousin Marisol and holding his father's hand, Erik saw Yemanjá dancing on a float, the drums of Candomblé pounding in his ears, his little hips moving in time to the rhythm. He thought the woman on the float dressed in gauzy blue scarves was a real Goddess and his mother gently corrected him and explained that she was a representation. That first sensation, the tangible feeling of his heart bursting wide open to make room for the orixá of the sea had stayed with him for a long time. That woman long ago may have been a false divinity, and he could be forgiven for making the mistake with the eyes of a child. But he was a man now, and the being before him splashing in the warm sea was real and divine. Black deities were real. She was in front of him. Yemanjá. He had to be near her.

He shucked his trunks and took his time approaching her.

She dived under the water and he felt that his heart would break if she didn't come back up, wouldn't be surprised at all if she didn't return to the surface, but he needed to see her eyes, needed to make sure she was real.

He stopped short when a small wave crashed into his chest and he allowed himself to be swept with it.

Yani popped back to the surface wiping her hand over her face. She didn't jump or cry out when she saw him wading in the water, didn't try to shield her breasts or the neatly clipped bikini area of her sex, her vulva pouty and rounded, the split between her legs making his dick jump. She was a true ethereal vision and the reverence in his eyes must've stalled any thoughts she may have had of him being a weirdo coming for her.

"Killmonger," she said with no trepidation in her voice, "I see this is going to be a problem, no?"

"Erik," he whispered, trying to find his own voice, "my name is Erik."

[Part 1]

[Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

Tag List:

@fonville-designs @soufcakmistress @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon @thadelightfulone @allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky @raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514 @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

youtube

187 notes · View notes

gouteruneboulangerie · 5 years ago

Text

Antheia

Hello DW universe! I’m a long time fan who hasn’t written anything since high school (trust me, that’s been quite a long time). But a mix of inspiration, creativity and COVID quarantine has put me back on the saddle, full gallop!!! I’ve been working on an OG character x Dh!Master story. I’m super nervous though, since it has been a long time since I’ve done this, and I’m not actually the best at accurate writing. (That’s code for I do I what I want and follow no rules when it comes to professional writing...) I’m actually a professional baking and pastry cook (if you look at my account you’d be able to deduce that...I lost my other tumblr account years ago.) So, if anyone has a random pastry/baking question, I’d be more than happy to answer those. And I’ll take (constructive!!!!) criticism, please don’t be rude, no one needs that in their life, and it just comes back as Karma to you, so think twice. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, please let me know you’r opinion on it, cause I have more chapters....

I wanted to go with a sort of collection of domestic scenes within the TARDIS between my og character and the Master, but it starts with how they meet. And I’m thinking of having little adventure blurbs as well. The chapters are relatively short. And yes, I did make the og character a baking and pastry chef....I’VE HAD NO INGREDIENTS OR KITCHEN SPACE TO BAKE FOR THE PAST TWO MONTHS I NEEDED AN OUTLET!!!! So, yeah... HEEE, the nerves!!!

Chapter one is the official first meet between the two.

Enjoy!

-k-dubs113

Uhh...for this chapter, the only warnings are a few curse words?? I don’t know how warnings go for these kinds of things (please someone let me know, cause future chapters get a little....dark. They’re two insane time travelers what do you expect!?!)

Chapter One: Antheia

The Master looked out the castle window and saw a young lady walking the edge of the river. Dressed in an eclectic style, considering the era, she had a multitude of braids in her hair each adorned with an abundance of different coloured flowers. The basket hanging from the crook of her left elbow was filled with green plants while her left arm held a wooden pipe which she kept bringing up to her mouth, breathing out the smoke like second nature. An almost cheshire cat smile was plastered on her face, a smile which told of her giddiness towards her actions while hiding a secret agenda of her own accords. One might even think her a little insane due to the random bout of laughter she gave off when she found a patch of mushrooms.

“You.” the anger flowed through his tone like wind through an open window. “Who is she?” he asked when the trembling guard came to the window.

“Th-that’s the Chef, Master. You can find her in her quarters, next to the kitchen.” he told the ground. How the Master hated when people didn’t talk to him directly. He took out his TCE and immediately shrunk the man.

Two weeks ago the Master had come to this kingdom in Surrey, England, killing his way to the top, which only took a couple minutes, and became the new ruler of this obnoxious empire. Though he was aware that the village continued its daily routine, albeit with much more caution and fear, everyone within the castle grounds were either dead, well miniaturized, or scared shit-less doing whatever he told them to do. Except this, so called, chef. He looked back to her and saw her smelling a bouquet of green grass before taking a large bite out of it. ‘Yeah, she’s insane.’ the Master thought to himself, only allowing the left corner of his mouth to twitch up. But still, she wasn’t living in fear of him and that needed to change. Now.

The Master found his way to the ‘chef’s’ quarters and sat himself at the two-top table. There he waited for the return of this insane child.

_______________________________________________________________

“Well, ‘ello!” I said, rather loud but without a care in the world. “How are ya? Living the life I presume? You know, some creatures get all the luck, you just live your own little life, without any worry except to get busy and then you die!” I watched the sky, lying next to the spot where a bunny had just been. “What I would give to have a simple life. Don’t get me wrong,” I looked over, finally noticing the bunny had fled; sighing, I continued my monologue “I like where I’ve gotten too. But there used to be so much more in my life. Now all I can do is get high and drunk and dream about the places I used to visit.” I stared at the shapeless clouds for a moment before getting myself back to my feet.

“Well, this poison isn’t going to make itself.” I said to the wind, “Better get myself back to the kitchen.” I skipped, hummed and danced my way back to the castle, taking my time with no worry about the new king occupying Shene Palace.

I entered my kitchen humming the half forgotten tune of Moonlight Serenade. Unpacking my findings of the day, I turned around and saw a man sitting at my dining table.

“Zetus lapetus!” I exclaimed, quoting my favorite childhood movie. Hand on my heart, I took a few breaths, calming myself before looking at the man. “May I assist you?” When he didn’t say anything I continued putting away my herbs and fungus, keeping an eye on him.

He was short, perfectly filled in while potentially hiding some well worked arms, and nicely coloured compared to the pasty men running around this castle and village. His scruff was just a tad longer then what should be described as scruff, almost as if he skipped a few days of grooming out of laziness. His eyes bore into my back and every time I glanced over I could see they were filled with anger and intrigue; he was curious about me but definitely not pleased at the situation, for his own reasons unknown to me.

“You don’t seem that frightened of me.” he commented.

“Should I be? I pose no threat to you, why should you be a threat to me?” I turned to look at him directly and noticed his feet on the table. “Oi!” I exclaimed, grabbing the bad-tasting alcohol I used for sanitizing and a rag, “Feet off the table! What does this look like to you, a barn stable? I run a clean kitchen here.” I shooed his feet off and looked him directly in the eyes, “Cross-contamination here is deadly.” I held my gaze a few seconds longer than necessary to make sure he understood the seriousness I was implying. It was intimidating to say the least.

After I finished cleaning the table top I started prepping for a tea service. I put some water on to boil and went over to my dried herb and flower collection. I didn’t know the man's taste in tea, so I elected to find out by allowing him to make his own choice. I took out four cheesecloth pouches, and in each one filled with different dried ingredients, putting the labels in front of each. They read: Mild: Dandelion - slightly bitter, Pignut - mild hazelnut and radish, Borage - cucumber, Rosebay Willow - pleasant. Sweet/Earthy: Lime Tree - succulent and sweet, Pignut - mild hazelnut and radish, Columbine - sweet and ‘green’, Pink Purslane - succulent and earthy. Hot/Spice: Sweet Cicely - aniseed, Nettle, Wood Avens - cloves, Lady Smock - cress with sweet and hot hints. Fruity: Hawthorn - slightly over ripe apples, Pineapple Weed - strong pineapple, Watermint - sweet and minty, Pink Sorrel - apple peel and lemon.

I brought over the selections. “I’m not sure what your preference is, so help yourself to one of these, or let me know if there’s something else you would prefer.” I went to walk away to check on the time for the bread but was halted by the man's hand grasping my wrist.

“You are aware of who I am, are you not?” his voice went through me like a robust wine, smoothly flowing through my veins. I could bet my life that his voice alone could make me do things I never thought possible. I turned towards him looking into his eyes; those eyes could also make me do things I never morally thought I would do. I quirked my left eyebrow, allowing my fake confidence to overcome my anxieties.

“You’re the new ruler, yes? The one everyone's making a fuss about.” I freed my wrist easily and continued towards the burner. Through my peripherals I saw him eyeing the tea, taking the one on the far right, the mild mix. Just then the timer for the water went off. I grabbed the pot of water and brought it towards the table. He was eyeing the timer and myself.

“Such an interesting invention.” He motioned towards my badly put together contraption. A funnel over the left side of a double beam scale with a jar on it. Depending on the amount of rice I put into the funnel, when it reached the desired time I calculated, the beam would hit a bell. Old time, timer.

“Thank you. It helps me multitask without ruining any of my products.” Without going further into details about the contraption, I poured the water through his chosen tea. “A wonderful selection, sire. The dandelion is good for detoxifying the blood while the borage and rosebay help with the respiratory system. And it’s said that pignut promotes lust.” I eyed him promiscuously momentarily, then quickly infused my own water with my comfrey and dandelion coffee substitute before returning the pot and sitting down. I took a deep breath of the aromatic steam before sitting the cup down.

I looked him straight in the eyes, building all the confidence I could possess while keeping a hint of aggression in the way I held my body and the tone of my voice; trying my best to mimic the presence he held in the room. I started my well practiced speech: “Here’s the deal. I understand you are a man of action. You have killed quite a lot of people on your own, with no help from others, to get to the top. But I have also worked hard to get to where I am. You might be wondering who exactly I am? I’m sure even with the terror you inflict in the people, no one has let slip who I am around here.” I took a pause from my short rambling, taking a sip of my fake-coffee. I immediately calmed down, the familiar taste grounding me and I continued with more grace and less apprehension. “I’m the official royal poisoner. You needn't worry about yourself, my loyalty lies in whoever rules the kingdom. I am free for your use, but only free to you.

“I allow men and women from all stages of society to come to me for help in poisoning someone. I carry no judgement. However, the rules apply as such: the second in command comes to me, asking to poison anyone in the whole kingdom, I oblige except for the interest of you. The lowest of men comes in here, asking for poison, if he can pay, I oblige, except for the interest of you. I hold no politics. I believe, as you have shown yourself, that if a man wishes to become king, he does so by his own means. He shouldn’t need to rely on the skill of a poisoner to obtain the throne. I also give much thought to who is asking and to whom they plan to poison. If they lie to me, I punish them. And I always discuss my business dealings with you first.” his face was neutral, but his eyes shined with curiosity. I continued:

“What is the payment for poison? For you, sire, nothing. I work for you freely in the exchange for this room and freedom to roam the castle and castle grounds. For everyone else, it depends. Most think gold and jewels will pay the best, but I prefer a good trade. My preferred trade: ingredients. I may have a surplus supply of mushrooms, herbs and other wild vegetation but I do not have an endless supply of meat, or dairy, or even other items of immediate necessity. Therefore, when a villager comes to trade, I prefer what he has to offer other than money. Next, I enjoy information. I may not be political, but in my business, it’s good to know who wants whom killed. You’d be surprised by the things I know, and I openly offer the knowledge to you. I can tell you every man who wished for the late King Edward to be killed. Lastly, money will pay for the least expensive poison, with a fifty percent chance of success. Always bring the customers back wanting more, that’s how you run a good business.” I said smiling. Just then my other timer for the bread went off. “Excuse me for a second, if you will.” I got up, took the bread out, checked it, and with satisfaction, placed it on the cooling rack. “Ahh, nothing better then freshly baked bread.”

“How long have you been stuck here?”

A weird question in my opinion, but I looked around the room walking back over. “I wouldn’t consider myself stuck. I did ask to live here about 4 years ago, having been in the area 5 years. That spiel that I just gave you, I gave to the late King, albeit not word for word.”

“No. How long have you been stuck in this time period?” That stopped me in my tracks.

“I- I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“You’re obviously not from this era, so how long have you been stuck here.” he was growing irritated at my attempt to feign ignorance. I was shocked, but I looked down bitterly, remembering the day all too well.

“Five years. How did you know?”

“I’m not from this time period either. Takes one to spot one. Though, you didn’t.” I narrowed my eyes at his obvious comment of my incapabilities of observation. I was defensive now.

“And why is someone who can time travel just wasting time becoming king of a stupid little village like this?” I spat, he didn’t answer. As the silence grew thicker, I made a retreat into the heart of the private kitchen. He stared off into his own world, appearing upset. Must be about the reason he was here. I busied myself with the next loaf of bread I needed to get done for dinner, thinking over the fact that he was a time traveler. What were the odds of that happening? Midway through the first kneading of the dough he broke the silence.

“My ship has been compromised. I need to fix the issue but unfortunately I'm stuck here to do so. Figured, might as well have some fun while I’m here. Now what's your story?”

“I don’t have one. I’m simply stuck here and there’s nothing I can do about it.” I glimpsed at him while I continued kneading, seeing if he would contemplate taking me. He just stared at me, not really giving off any vibe except boredom and grumpiness. I had the impression that he was not happy with my answer and that it would probably come up in conversation again. I switched the subject off of my past and back onto my future..

“So?” I asked. It was his turn to look around slightly confused. I continued after it was apparent he wasn’t following my train of thought, “Are you going to keep me or am I going to have to figure something new to do with my life?”

“Well, you said it yourself, I’m a man of action, I don’t really need an official poisoner.” Having been prepared for the chance that the new king wouldn’t be convinced of the use of my services, I took one of the handful of disputes that I had, personalizing it a tad with the new knowledge I had received from our little chat.

“True, but sometimes you have better things to do, like fixing your ship. Then you could simply tell me that you wanted someone poisoned and it would be done. Also, it’s kind of fun when you know someone in the room is about to die from poisoning.” I stopped kneading the dough and turned my full attention to him. “I’m more than just a poisoner too. I know that you’ve been eating the treats that I prepare for you.” I paused, thinking out loud, “Unless one of the servants is eating them, in which case, I’ll have to fix that problem.” I continued, my attention back to him “Without me, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy bread, or the desserts that are offered to you every night, or the future multitude of random treats that I make out of pure boredom. It’s not a bad deal.”

“What’s your name?”

“Antheia.” the man got up and exited the room without another word. “Right, well, not sure what that means, but I’ll be around if you need me.” I said to the room, just loud enough that if he had good hearing, he’d probably hear it. I went back to my bread, thinking over all my new possible futures. Hopefully the one that played out was one of the better ones.

Ch. 1 - Fin.

So yup, that’s that. Hope it wasn’t a waste of your time. Stay beautiful my DW fellow fans!

“Have you ever thought what it’s like to be wanders in the 4th dimension?” -The Doctor

#og character #dh!master #doctor who #the master #time travel #dr. who #nuwho #classic who #new who #fanfiction #fanfic #dw fanfic #dhawan!master

3 notes · View notes

be-dazzled · 5 years ago

Photo

#SIYC

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser FFnet link: click here Tumblr link: explore here Genre: Multi-chapter, Romance, Comedy Rating: M for sensitive content and language

Summary: Gray Fullbuster is a player both in love and in life. He plays Professional Basketball and is being groomed to be in line with Basketball Legends Michael Jordan, Lebron James, Kobe Bryant and Stephen Curry. There’s just one problem, Gray Fullbuster is a play-ah. His life is a giant mess of crazy parties, waking up with random women and waking up in random women’s apartments. Just living the life.

The opinion of the public on him is waning. To save the million-dollar endorsements in the verge of disappearing, Gray needs to change his image. Therefore, Gray Fullbuster, Fiore Knight’s Team Captain and Most Valuable Player, will be in the next season of “My Star Can Dance”.

There’s another problem: it seems like his star isn’t that bright since his partner, one of Fiore’s prominent ballerinas, doesn’t know him? His billboard is hanging in front of her dancing school! And it was a good billboard since all he was wearing was his six-pack and an Aztec bandana. How come she didn’t notice?

…

I've been stung All this chemistry has got me falling I'll be alright I'm definitely high

– GOOD, Erin McCarley

…

Juvia dashed to the living room. Alas, it was too late. The can of worms had been opened. There was no escaping now.

Juvia caught his father seated in the middle of the living room, an open album spread over his lap and a curious Gray leering over him. Gray hanged on Julian’s every word; his midnight eyes glued on the pages of a photo album. Times like this that Juvia wished she was an athlete rather than a dancer. The resentful ballerina dropped down the couch next to Gray, accepting her fate. She just wished it wasn’t ‘the album’ every girlfriend prayed would never see the light of day.

“Here’s my little girl in her first pink tutu. She was four and she never took it off.” Julian beamed. “Here she is in her first recital; she played the young snow white, my little princess.”

The doting father pointed at each photo as he recounted the momentous events in Juvia’s growing years. He glanced at her with pride and love every now and then. Juvia received her father’s gazes with a smile. Yet, the ballerina was on guard. At the back of her mind, the nervous girlfriend wished nothing embarrassing would come out of the album.

“Oh.”

But fate was a mischievous one. As Juvia’s luck would have it, a single photo fell out of the album when Julian flipped the page.

“How did it get here?”

That rhetorical question never meant any good for any one. Girlfriend instinct forced Juvia to grab the polaroid, beating Gray to it, before the man had a good look at baby Juvia naked in the tub.

Why do baby pictures always have to be them butt-naked?

“I’ll take that.” Juvia ran out of places to hide the photo and decided to keep it inside her brassiere. For sure, no one would dare look in there.

“Hey, I wanted to see that.” Gray protested.

The moment the words escaped his lips, Gray realized the possible confusion that his statement may bring. Before they eventually make him lose his standing as Juvia’s favorite boyfriend, he quickly turned to Juvia’s father to clear things up. “I meant the photo, Sir. Not… not your daughter’s… braHey how about this one?”

Gray hurriedly flipped the album to the next page before the now suspecting father held him accountable. His fingers slowed down and ultimately stopped at a single page. Something else caught his attention. Words failed him, his breath hitched in his throat. The corner of his mouth turned up to the slightest degree which did not escape Julian’s studying eyes.

“That’s Juvia in her Fairy Tail jersey.”

“Wow.” Gray said breathlessly staring intently at the photo. He memorized the photo with a gleam of awe in his eyes.

“I have no place in Ballet.” The older man felt the need to get into detail. “She probably felt bad for me. So, Juvia came with me for every Fairy Tail Game, even though she hated it.”

“I didn’t hate it, dad.” Juvia gently corrected.

Gray turned to the woman who apparently shared his love for basketball – proud and beaming and happiness written all over his foolish smile.

“I didn’t know you liked basketball.”

The affection in his eyes was met with recognition. Juvia wasn’t trying to hide it or anything. There was just one little detail she would like to keep to herself – take to her grave if she could. If Juvia started talking about her like of basketball…

“Liked it? Juvia loved it!”

Olivia chose that moment to walk in and release the Kraken. The socialite set the chocolate mud pie on the coffee table. Then, she sat on the arm rest, snaked an arm around her husband’s shoulder before the diplomat rested his arm on Olivia’s lap in return. It was the most natural sight.

“She almost became a basketball groupie.”

“What?” The surprise widened Gray’s eyes but it failed to hide the glint of excitement and a little bit of mischief he felt over the information.

To Juvia’s horror.

“In High School, she almost quit ballet to become a cheerleader. And it’s not even for her school’s team.”

The couple shared a laugh that bounced around the living room. They reminisced the good old days like it was yesterday.

“I remembered her and that little friend of hers, what was her name?”

“It was Levy, darling.” Olivia offered, referring to the now assistant show-writer from the dancing show.

“Oh yeah, Levy. Every weekend they’d take the train to watch basketball events in all parts of the country.”

Julian did not notice the warning look shot his way by none other than his only daughter.

Really. ‘All parts of the country’ was a bit of a stretch.

“There was even one time; her grades were failing so we had to ground her.”

Juvia knew where the conversation was going but her efforts to change the subject were futile. Her warnings were ignored. She couldn’t help but think, “Was there like a rule that tells parents to embarrass their daughter in front of their boyfriend that she wasn’t aware of?” Because the next part of this story was…

“But her favorite basketball team was playing so she snuck off and climbed the gates.” Julian had to wipe the tears off the corner off his eyes.

“Okay, dad.” Juvia stood from the couch, planning on collecting her parents for a nap or something. Anything. “Story time is over.”

“Wait. Wait.” He said between pants. “Here’s the best part…”

But that wasn’t the end of it. Juvia braced herself for the grand reveal.

“Her clothes got stuck on the fence and her mother and I had to take her down.”

A chorus of laughter erupted in the Lockser living room with one voice missing. A picture of the young, delinquent ballerina dangling on the fence would have been a sight to behold. Not for Juvia. Yet, when she thought the worst part was over, her mother opened up her mouth.

“She got so mad she wasn’t able to watch the Magnolia High basketball team. She didn’t even talk to us for a week.”

Juvia felt the urgency to put a stop on the conversation before Gray…

“Hey, that’s my High School team!”

Gray received a knowing smile from Olivia. Finally putting two in two together, he turned to the blushing ballerina beside him. “You’re a fan of my team?”

“Oh, she’s a fan but not entirely of your team.”

“Mother.” Juvia shot the older Lockser her last warning. If the woman wouldn’t keep quiet, it wouldn’t take Gray long before he uncovered a little embarrassing information that Juvia buried a long time ago.

Olivia raised her hand in the universal sign of conceding. She left the armrest and picked a slice of the sweet dessert.

“Oh!” It was Julian who exclaimed, remembering every girl-to-girl talk he was never a part of. “Is he Captain Cutie?”

“Dad!”

“I’m Captain Cutie?” Gray pointed at himself, half-amused and half-surprised at Juvia’s apparent nickname for him.

The cat was finally out of the bag.

Juvia didn’t address Gray. She deflected the issue by putting the blame on her mother; the latter invoked deniability.

“I can’t believe you’re the Captain Cutie we’ve followed around the country for basketball competitions.”

Again, ‘followed around the country’ was such an overstatement. The farthest she went to watch Gray’s game was Oaktown which was a two-day ship ride away. But it didn’t stop the corner of Gray’s lips to quirk in pride, pleasure and something else.

“You followed me around?”

Juvia stood up from the couch, all flustered and ready to jump into the beach and never come up shore.

“In my defense, I was really young and you were really cute.”

Until the very end, Juvia remained defensive. The reason she didn’t want Gray to find out about “Captain Cutie’ was exactly because of how he’d use the fact to tease her, to no end. It was going to be an endless discussion of who liked who first.

“Well, you kids might want to talk about this whole ‘Juvia was your biggest fan and she had a big crush on you’ thing while you get me some pack of burger patties.”

Julian’s voice broke the tension. He coyly gave her daughter, who now had her eyes narrowed at him, a smile. But she couldn’t keep the frown on her face.

“C’mon, Gray.” She walked over the key-holder to grab the keys to her father’s convertible. “I’ll show you around town.” She walked past her folks, dangling the keys in front of her father as punishment.

Two could play at this game, dad.

“Not, not the… not the Ferarri.”

Julian reached out to grab the keys from his daughter’s hand but Olivia kept him where he was standing.

“Let it go, honey.” Was his wife’s comforting words.

…

All the way from the car to isle fourteen, Gray barraged and teased the ballerina, as Juvia had suspected, about that little secret he luckily stumbled upon.

“I knew you were a fan but I didn’t realize it went way back in High School.”

“Quit while you’re ahead, Gray.” Juvia warned as she pushed the cart along the meat aisle. Juvia stopped when she hit something. Apparently, it was a 5’9 chunk of a man with a petty smug on his bright face.

“You had a big crush on me, didn’t you?”

Juvia rolled her eyes. She didn’t know if Gray was stupid or acting like one. Following him around her entire High School life did spell ‘big crush’.

“It was a momentary lapse of judgment.” She hit him again with her cart and shifted it to push ahead of Big Head.

Gray caught up with her picking up a pack of twin burger meat. Apparently, his girlfriend was still pouting. Sensing her irritation, Gray thought of a way to lighten up her mood.

“Well, if it helps, I really have a big crush on you, now and I’m sure I would have if I’ve seen you in one of those cheerleader uniforms.”

“Don’t be creepy.”

Juvia stopped inspecting the packed meat and turned to him, a small smile tugging on her lips. Gray had a way with words and made it hard to ignore him anymore. She told him to continue that she might like him again.

“And actually,” Gray held her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. The corners of his eyes creased with his smile. “I am kind of whipped by you.”

This time, it wasn’t what he said. It was how he held Juvia’s gaze, the way his eyes adored her. Those dark midnight eyes had the power to entice and she bet her money on it, many had fallen for them, including her.

The two became suddenly aware of their surroundings and the voice of someone clearing up her throat ruined the moment. They whipped around to see a large woman around in her late fifties, in Gray’s rough estimate, throwing them a nasty look.

Man, they really were not a popular couple among the forty to fifty demographic.

…

Gray and Juvia spent the whole afternoon going around town, meeting the people in Juvia’s life, visiting the places monumental in her growing years. Some of the townspeople recognized them from the show and requested to take photos. There were also who were fans of Fiore Knights and commended the MVP’s performance in the last season.

When they passed by the town plaza, Gray had a good laugh at the giant tarpaulin with Juvia’s face on it. The woman did her best to hide her face from the public. She didn’t like attention even though her beauty did demand it. The upside of it, Gray said, was that the photo they used looked really pretty.

Walking down Juvia’s memory lane, Gray had a glimpse of the ballerina’s childhood. He enjoyed it immensely. He liked sitting at a corner both of a local diner, enjoying the unhealthy but classic combination of burger and fries. He loved listening to her friends in town talking about embarrassing things Juvia did when she was young. In every story, in every person, in every place, Gray made new discoveries.

When they came home late that afternoon, Julian Lockser threw himself at the red Ferrari, embracing the luxurious car as much as his long arms allowed. Juvia swore she heard him apologize to it (for letting his daughter drive it) even if she returned the luxury car unscathed.

Olivia suggested that they give the man a moment with his car and hinted the idea of inviting Gray down the beach for a stroll. The boy agreed quickly but not before he saw a tear escaped Julian’s menacing eyes.

Why was Gray even scared of that guy?

Writer’s Corner: Hi guys! So, I am a little behind uploading here. I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT CHAPTER 9. I really thought I already posted that one here. Anyways, hope you guys like this one. We are finally on Chapter 10 woot woot.

#gray x juvia #gruvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #siyc #gruvia fanfic #gruvia au #gruvia modern au #she's in your court

16 notes · View notes

colitisandme · 5 years ago

Text

It’s no coincidence that ‘stressed’ is ‘desserts’ spelt backwards. That’s what I typically dived towards when I was stressed or sad. Desserts equaled gluttonous happiness. Whenever I was anxious, I ripped into packets, tubs and cake shaped items with joy and frenzy. Desserts and stress were my bed fellows. They were brilliant friends, hogging all the blankets under the duvet of my life, leaving me cold, plump, hyperactive, covered in sugar and shivering, with no cover on me, cursing the fact I didn’t wear fluffy socks to bed. my mind would whirl away like a washing machine. And so, cold and shivering with my hair on end, looking like a deranged Womble, I would end up seeking something sweet to eat. Instantly after the first mouthful, my hair would become less wild, my thoughts would be less chaotic and I would sink into a pile of sugary blissfulness. So when I had to give up sugar, I was, well stressed irronically.

Stress and worry have followed me around my whole life, from when I was in Primary school right up until present day. It has become such a huge part of my existence, I didn’t feel right unless I was worrying about something or constantly going over things in my brain. Not just tangible thoughts. Nope. My worries consisted about serious things that are going on in the world, my finances, my families happiness, the house, husband wellbeing, friends, have I upset anyone? Am I being a good wife? To other thoughts and worries like; Have I locked the door? Have I turned off the tap? To really helpful thoughts and worries like; ‘I am pretty sure I heard a crunch under my foot when I put out the rubbish? ... Why didn’t I turn the light on? Oh my god was that a snail? What if his family are waiting for him to come home. What if, because he never appears, the mum snail becomes an alcoholic, becomes hooked on nettle wine, and the children forgo their education to look after her. Eventually they leave because she’s just too much to handle, and so, alone and drunk, she sings songs about her lost love, while hiccuping and wailing in a nettle wine stupor ... And it will be all my fault.’ So round and round my thoughts and worries went, until I felt like a hamster on a wheel, running and running and going nowhere. I didn’t vocalise these worries. They were all internal. I just couldn’t switch off.

I beat myself up for anything that goes wrong. Nobody need punish me, I do a great job of that myself. Once when I was very young, I decided that the cat simply had too many whiskers that she didn’t need. Even at aged 5, I reasoned I was doing her a favour and she was probably absolutely fed up with having an even number of whiskers on each side. I was sure that if she could speak she would beg me to reduce her grooming time, as she was taking simply ages to preen her whiskers, tell me stories about when she would get laughed at by all the other cats for having rediculous symmetrically numbered and placed whiskers, and longed to remove herself from mediocrity and boredom. Well I certainly didn’t want her to be a laughing stock. Happy to oblige.... *snip* (I probably should have stopped when the cat tried to scrabble away from me, eyes wide with fright as I confidently strode over to her, gleefully, with arms outstretched looking like Edward Scissor Hands, but never the less I was convinced I was doing her a favour.)

I came downstairs clutching a traumatised, angry cat in one hand, and a pair of scissors and newly trimmed whiskers in another. I proudly showed off the new look to my parents. They were not as open to the new aerodynamic moggy as I had hoped, and freaked. I immediately lost it. I sobbed. I apologised over and over to the cat, I tried glueing her whiskers back on, I stroked her, cuddled her, I was convinced I had ruined her life. I was inconsolable. I spent many days after that setting up a makeshift counselling clinic for my cat, where I would stroke her and make sure she knew what a beautiful cat she was and I told her I was sorry that was going to be lob-sided, and struggle getting in to tiny gaps, and try and make up for what I did by taking extra special care of her. My parents didn’t chastise me, because nothing they could do could make me feel any worse than I did. Even at age 5, I worried a lot.

So you can imagine that as adulthood embraced me, just how easily worrying had become a part of me. As natural as breathing. Stressing about everything became normal. Overthinking was critical to my daily life. I lived each day on high alert, in case I needed to jump into action and fix whatever needed fixing, just like I tried to do with the cats whiskers. I am at my best in a crisis, and god knows I have had many to deal with in my life. I love being Superwoman. I love saving the day. But being in this hyper-alert state was not fun and certainly not healthy.

I became ill after a BIG burnout. I had been playing Superwoman for too long. I had been living on the edge for months, I was always stressed, I wasn’t sleeping, I was in pain, I was withdrawing, I was experiencing horrendous brain fog which was really sodding useful as I had just started an incredibly stressful job, where I would drill myself to be perfect and chastise myself for processing information incorrectly. On top of this I was dealing with a managerie of outside issues. Very quickly and surprisingly, (to me as everyone closest to me would describe me as the strongest person they knew,) my health and mental health imploded like a double whammy firework. I did not know it was coming, but oh my god when it did, I was floored. I had never been so ill. I was scared. I knew that I could not continue doing what I was doing. I needed to change my behaviours. I needed to spring clean my brain. I couldn’t turn to sweet treats anymore to relieve that anxiety because cake or sugar would make my bum explode. I needed to find another less ‘caboom, fire in the hole type way’ to manage my anxieties and stress.

IBD forces me to think purely in the present because I have to spend a huge amount of energy simply functioning. I have to stay in the moment. If I worry or think further past a day/ week it becomes impossible, as I am never sure what one day will look like from the other. Stress hugely exacerbates my IBD symptoms. I learnt this very quickly. The more I worried about why the hell my body was being so unco-operative, the worse my body felt and the more angry it got. And with IBD there is a lot to stress over. Finances, health, stigma of having an invisible illness, work, isolation, diet, questions over future plans etc. It’s a big thing to deal with. It’s enormous. So I worried and got worse and worried and got worse. And so eventually, feeling like I had been kicked by a horse, totally hungry, weak, prone to explode, sugar deprived and looking like a bum with eyes, with my wonderful Mum’s encouragement and support, I came across meditation and mindfulness.

Meditation and mindfulness have helped me manage my stress. After phone calls chasing mental health appointments, referrals and cursing the incompetence of Drs, mental health professionals and admin teams, I turn to mindfulness and meditation as a way of calming my mind. It has taught me to accept things, the way they are during the moment because that may change in the next moment, And be in the moment with it. For example, the pain I get with IBD can feel like your belly is being sawn in half. It feels like a group of can can dancers, jig about on my groin, back and stomach wearing high heels, and using exquisite timing and excellent rhythm, stomp on my intestines, causing me to chew my fist in distress. If I use mindfulness and meditation during painful episodes like this (sometimes whilst crossing my eyes, grinding my teeth and chewing the carpet) it helps me not to fight the pain, but to breathe through it and accept it in the present. When I am anxious, Meditation takes my mind away to another focus in a gentle way, and if my mind wonders off like a hyperactive butterfly, it gently brings it back again. It’s not easy. Sometimes it definitely does not work, but sometimes it does. I have learnt to focus on my breathing, I have trained my brain to change each thought. From a time where the thoughts on a day to day basis felt like they were running around my brain on fire, screaming fire engine noises, wearing a bucket on their head, careering into other thoughts who fanned the flames with a manual citing ‘50 ways to put out a fire’ and can’t work the hose, to a calmer place. One where my thoughts can pick flowers, float in a babbling brook, frolic with fluffy animals and where the fire extinguisher is readily available. Because IBD has forced me to strip everything back in my life, there is no room for extreme stress. No room for high anxiety, because it just hurts me. Physically and mentally. Where as before, I would keep my worries to myself because I didn’t like bothering people with them, now I talk about them, accept the things I cannot change, appreciate things in the moment and change the things I can change. So strangely in that way, IBD has probably saved my life. It’s very strange how things work. I am the most ill I have ever been and should be the most stressed I have ever been, but I can’t be, because that would make me even more ill. Don’t get me wrong it’s still a battle. But I try. I try to appreciate every moment. I appreciate every mouthful of food, and take ages eating it, where as before I would thoughtlessly shovel it in.

I start each day with a mantra and meditation, and even though sometimes Its not effective, I can honestly say that practicing Mindfullness and meditation, are the best stress relievers and stress deterrence I have ever had. They are also the best dessert substitute I have ever had, because meditation doesn’t make my jeans bulge, make me act like an over excited toddler at a birthday party or attract an enthusiastic colony of ants who desire to lick my sugary face. So if like me you are a natural worrier, I urge you to not get so stressed out, you end up gnawing on yourself like an Octopus and try it. Doing a little a day may just take the edge off and sometimes just doing that will help deal with things a little more positively. And when we are living with a long term chronic disease like IBD, being positive, even in the face of a huge challenge like this, is everything.

1 note · View note

darley1101 · 7 years ago

Text

Chasing Fairytales: Part 1 The Bachelor Party

A/N With so many amazing The Royal Romance authors out there I as a bit skeptical of not only writing this but sharing it. I was reminded by my dear friend @blackcatkita that there can never be too many Royal Romance fics out there, so here we go. Some things to know: My MC is named Carin, she's around 23 but feels older due to life experiences, and she didn't have the easiest childhood. You will learn a bit more about her as the story unfolds. I hope you guys enjoy! If you want to be tagged in future updates, let me know!

Chasing Fairy tales

Part One: The Bachelor Party

The stench of garbage assaulted Carin Brooks nostrils as she stepped into the dimly lit alleyway behind the bar where she worked. Taking out the trash wasn't the greatest of tasks but it did allow her a moments reprieve from her dick of a boss. Growing up in the New York State foster care system, Carin had met her fair share of assholes. Her boss was was starting to come close to topping that list. More than once she had caught him licking his lips while watching her bend over to wipe down a table. So far he had managed to keep his lewd thoughts to himself but Carin knew it was only a matter of time before the looks turned into words and the words into actions. When that happened it would be time to hunt up another job. No matter how good the hourly pay or tips were, Carin was not a fan of being groped. Especially by middle aged sleazeballs.

“Cari?”

Carin jumped, her bright blue eyes widening in a fear. The fear slowly turned to relief as her co-worker, a baby faced college kid named Daniel, stepped out of the shadows closest to the trash bins. “Daniel! You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” Daniel smiled sheepishly. “I heard something in the bins and it's making me a little paranoid. Think you could come with to check it out?”

If the invitation to check out the garbage bins had come from anyone but Daniel she would have been a bit skeptical. Daniel was a total sweetheart though, who was more inclined to ramble on about his experiences waiting tables on a cruise ship than he was to try something shady. Plus, noises in garbage bins were always a real concern. It seemed like once a month there was some story about an unwanted newborn baby being found in the trash bins. The stories always left her with a hollow ache. She'd once been the unwanted baby, only her mother had been decent enough to leave her at a church. Brooks Street Baptist Church to be exact, where a cleaning lady named Carin had discovered her in a box on a pew.

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Carin cleared her throat. Please let it be a stray cat, she thought as she followed Daniel over to the bins. Her heart rate accelerated as the lid to the bin moved slightly and a tiny squeak pierced the otherwise silent alley. She took a deep breath and tossed back the lid. A wave of relief washed over her as several pairs of shiny, unblinking eyes stared up at her. She couldn't help but chuckle. “Daniel, come look!” She took a step to the side so he could peer in at what appeared to be a family of mice eating dinner.

“I don't know if I should go aw because that has to be the cutest thing I've ever seen or if I should be embarrassed that I let mice in a garbage can freak me out.” Daniel shook his head, a bemused look on his face.

“Lets go with the aw,” Carin giggled. “How about we let them finish dinner in private.” Another wave of giggles erupted from her.

“Bonappetite little buddies,” Daniel grinned as he slowly lowered the trash bin's lid. He motioned towards the bag Carin had set down. “Want me to toss it into the-”

The sound of a metal door slamming against brick caused them both to jump. Their boss scowled at them from the doorway. “I don't pay you to stand around in the alleyway flirting and giggling.”

“Sorry sir,” Daniel muttered, lowering his head.

Anger surged up in Carin's gut. “We weren't standing around flirting and giggling. We were taking out the trash like you asked us to,” she shot back.

“It doesn't take both of you and the last time I checked hauling garbage around wasn't all that funny,” the asshole sneered. “Now, if you're done wasting time, we just had a bachelor party come in. Daniel, they're in booth 5. I believe that is your section. Do try to be professional and for the love of God leave off with your little claim of meeting some former prince on that little cruise you took this summer.”

Carin waited until the asshole retreated back into the kitchen before flipping him off. “Asshole,” she muttered. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched as Daniel flung the trash bag into the dumpster that belonged to some Chinese bistro across the way. They weren't supposed to be using it, but more often then not their trash found its way in since the two little bins that belonged to the bar weren't big enough to hold all the trash that was hauled out every night. “I can't believe him. Acting like we're wasting time when he's the jerk who told us to take the trash out.”

“Yeah,” Daniel agreed glumly.

A frown creased Carin's brow. It wasn't like Daniel to let the asshole get under his skin but there was no denying the defeated look on his baby face. “You okay?”

“I finally asked out Jody. Tonight was supposed to be our first date. But now...” His voice trailed off.

Now he had a bachelor party to contend with. Carin let out a sigh. “You look like you don't feel very well,” she said slowly. “I would hate for you to get anyone else sick. Why don't you head on home and I'll cover the rest of your shift. Bachelor party included.” It wasn't like she had any plans tonight anyway. She didn't date and the few friends she did have either had plans with their significant others or were working. So why not help out Daniel? Besides, most bachelor parties tipped well and if things kept going the way they were going with her boss she was going to need that extra cash while she job hunted.

“Are you sure?”

Putting her hands on his back, Carin gave Daniel a little push. “Yes, I'm sure! Now go! I'll tell asshole you started throwing up.” Daniel threw a few more thank you's over his shoulder before hurrying into the kitchen.

Carin shoved her hands into her back pockets and took a moment to brace herself. The asshole wouldn't care that Daniel was leaving early, but he would still make a dramatic stink over it. There would be some whining about unreliable staff and how he had to pick up the slack before he slunk back to his office. Squaring her shoulders, Carin dropped her arms to her sides and walked into the kitchen. Sure enough the asshole was there waiting for her. “I hear Daniel isn't very well and that you're going to cover for him,” he sneered.

Fighting back a sigh, Carin stepped around her boss and into the little restroom off the kitchen that was reserved for staff only. It was little more than a toilet and cracked sink but it served its purpose. “Yup. Poor kid started throwing up.” She stared at her reflection in the mirror and wrinkled her nose. Seven hours of handing out drinks, busing dishes, and throwing out trash had taken its toll. She reached up and pulled down her dirty blonde hair and shook it out before finger combing it back into a low ponytail at the base of her neck. As she tightened the rubber band her body stiffened. She didn't have to look to her right to know that her boss had blocked the doorway. “Excuse me,” Carin said stiffly. “I have a bachelor party waiting on me.”

“Yes. Of course.” He stepped aside. “And Carin...these gentlemen strike me as the sort to leave a nice tip if you're extra nice to them.” The wink he shot her filled her mouth with the taste of bile. She was always nice to her customers, just not in the way her boss liked to insinuate.

Pig, she thought as she pushed past him. Behind her she could hear him chuckling. The sound causes her blood to boil. She takes a few calming breathes before approaching a group of young men lingering near the bar. Presumably this was the bachelor party. If one could call three guys a party. “Good evening, my name is Carin and I will be taking care of you this evening,” she said in what she hoped was a pleasant enough voice.

“We'll be needing your best table,” bit out a man who would have been good looking if he wasn't trying so hard. From his perfectly groomed medium brown hair to his custom fitted suit, it was clear that this guy put way too much thought into how he looked. He also seemed to know that he was good looking, which was a huge turn off in Carin's book.

“Forget the table,” the man standing next to him drawled. “Just bring us whiskey and lots of it.” If the first guy cared too much about appearances, this one didn't care at all. He'd thrown a denim button down work shirt on over a plain white tee and his jeans sported holes that could have been intentional but were probably the result of hours of hard work. There was an air of 'do not come any closer' about the guy that made Carin wonder if he'd been dealt a shitty hand in life as well.

“That can be arranged,” Carin laughed. Had the first guy made the comment about whiskey she would have kept quiet but this one, despite his 'hands off' vibe, seemed like the sort she could joke with. She gestured towards the booths at the back of the bar. “If you'll follow me.”She led them towards a booth that was close enough to the bar to make a steady stream of whisper an easy enough feat, but not so close that the trio would have to deal with the rowdy drunks that liked to line the stools in front of the bar. “Would you like any appetizers to go with the whiskey?”

“We'll start with the steaks!” For the first time since being approached, the third member of the group spoke. He was good looking enough, with a smile that made Carin smile in return. There was a sort of happy go lucky light burning in his blue eyes that Carin envied. This was someone who enjoyed life to the fullest. Since he also seemed to be the happiest of the bunch, she was fairly certain he was the groom.

“Oh yes!” Mr. Metro-sexual perked up at the thought of steak. “I'll take a filet mignon, medium rare, and prepared with a beaurnaise sauce.”

Carin offered an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry sir, but the closest we have to filet mignon is the deluxe burger.” She had told the asshole time and time again that it wouldn't hurt to put a steak on the menu. Steak were almost as easy to sell as burgers and added a bit of class to an otherwise mundane menu.

“Dare I ask for you wine list?”

“We have an excellent vintage house red,” Carin offered. From the way his nose wrinkled and his upper lip curled, Carin knew the house wine was going to be a no go.

“We'll be fine with a bottle of whiskey and four deluxe burgers,” chuckled the second guy.

“Four?” Carin wrinkles her brow in confusion. The guy nods behind her. Carin turns around, her gray-green eyes widening. Less than a foot away is a man that looked like some sort of god. He was well over six feet tall, with blonde hair, a cut jaw line, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. For a split second their eyes meet and Carin feels as though she can't catch her breathe. She feels her heart beating faster and her palms sweating. Her mind and heart argued over how to proceed. Logic argued that men like this, men who looked like they belonged on the cover of GQ magazine, didn't dally with the help. They stuck with corporate barbies or pampered heiresses. Longing made her wish she stood half a chance.

“Sorry I'm late.” Her golden god smiled, causing her heart to skip a beat. “Thank you for your patience, Miss...” he looked pointedly at Carin, an expectant look upon his handsome face.

“Uh,” she stammered, “Carin. My name is Carin.”

His smile widens. “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Carin.”

Oh the pleasure is all mine, she thought “It's nice to meet you, as well.” She can hear one of his friends snickering. Her cheeks grow warm as she realizes they're laughing at her. “Um, I'll just go put in your order,” she murmurs.

After placing and then delivering their order, Carin made a point to only interact with the bachelor party as little as possible. It was probably going to cost her a really great tip, but she didn't care. There was something about the blonde one that turned her into a bumbling school girl. She was twenty-three, not thirteen; too old for crushes that left her tongue tied. Not that any man, or boy for that matter, had made her feel the way he did. That alone was reason to stay away. Guys like him were only good for two things: a good time and a broken heart. Carin wasn't interested in either. So, she kept her distance. She focused on catching up with all the closing chores Daniel hadn't gotten to before leaving. As she filled the last salt shaker, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A gasp whooshes past her lips as she turns and finds herself, yet again, face to face with golden boy.

“I'm sorry Carin. I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to let you know that we're about ready to head out. I also wanted to thank you...and apologize. I know we kept you late, and my friends can be...” his brow wrinkles, “demanding.”

“Nothing I couldn't handle,” Carin assured him. She nods towards the wait station where the register is located. “If you're ready, I can cash out your ticket.”

“Yes. Of course. I don't want to keep you any longer than we already have.”

Her body thrums with awareness as they walk side by side towards the wait station. She tries to keep her head lowered, her eyes trained on the ticket, but couldn't. It was impossible not to steal little glances. Each time she would look up, she would catch him staring in return, a warm smile on his face. He doesn't bat an eye when she tells him the total. Without losing his smile, he pulls out a credit card and hands it to her. She can't resist looking at his name. Liam Rhys. She frowns slightly as she runs the card. Why did that name sound so familiar? Carin shook it off. She had probably heard one of his friends use it. “If you could just sign here,” she murmurs. She watches as he signs his name, her eyes widening as he writes in the tip. A thousand dollars. She blinked, then looked a second time. It was still there. A one and three zeroes after it. “That's way too much,” she protests.

“You should let me be the one to determine that,” Liam laughed. “Have a wonderful life, Carin.”

Carin stares after him, her mouth gaped open. A shiver runs down her spine as she feels someone press against her side. A lump forms in her throat as the asshole places a hand on the small of her back and leans over to read the ticket. “Looks like you took my advice,” he snickered.

“Please move,” she bites out tersely.

“Why don't you show me what you did to earn that tip.” His hand travels from her lower back towards her rear. She can feel his fingers splaying across her buttocks. Her eyes start to burn slightly as he squeezes one ass cheek.

“Stop it! Let me go!”

The pub was empty of customers and a quick glance at the bar revealed the bartender intentionally looking everywhere but their way. There would be no help there. She lets out a small cry as her boss pushes her up against the small counter where they cut lemons and limes for the drinks. As the hand that isn't squeezing her ass moves towards the hem of her shirt, she wonders if she screams loud enough if Liam and his friends are close enough to hear. They didn't strike her as the sort of guys to turn a blind eye to what her boss was about to do. Her mouth opens, ready to let out an ear piercing screech, when the front door swings open. Liam stands there, his smile waivering as he takes in Carin and her boss. “Carin,” he said slowly. “I meant to ask if you knew of a club that was still open. My friend Maxwell has this sudden urge to dance.”

Carin heard her boss mutter several curses under his breath as she wiggled pass him. “Yes. Of course. I...I know several. If you give me just a moment...” She ran towards the kitchen, praying her boss wouldn't follow. Behind her she can hear Liam attempting to engage the asshole in conversation and she sends up silent prayer of thanks. She grabs her tote and locks herself in the bathroom. Her body starts to shake as she turns on the cold water. This was it. The end of the line. There was no way in hell she was going to stay working here after that. If Liam hadn't....Carin bit back a sob as she splashed cold water on her face. God, if Liam hadn't come back when he did there was no telling how far the asshole would have gone. She took a few deep breaths before exchanging her plain white work blouse and black slacks for an emerald green skater dress. After stuffing her work clothes in the tote, she pulled the rubber band from her hair, letting the light brown tresses fall around her shoulders. Normally, she would stop to apply a bit of mascara and lip gloss but at the moment she just wanted to get the hell out of there while Liam was around to make sure she escaped physically unscathed.

“I quit,” she hisses at the asshole as she storms past him to where Liam is waiting. She tunes out the obscenities he's yelling after her. Instead, she focuses on Liam. Liam with his bright blue eyes and dimpled smile. Liam who had saved her.

#choices trr #the royal romance #liam x mc #mc x liam #king liam

81 notes · View notes