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sunlight-moonrise · 4 years ago

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Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Being a Barista and falling for a regular is as cliche as it gets. Having that customer become your new professor? Not so much.

A/N: *Peeks head out* Hello everyone. I have come back from my unannounced hiatus to show off this baby. Major thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog and @clean-bands-dirty-stories for helping me put this fic together. This was written for the lovely @httpnxtt for the secret-fic-swap in the Discord (thanks @imagining-in-the-margins.) I hope you all enjoy this smutty goodness.

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Face Slapping, Degradation, Slight Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (male receiving), Fingering, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex/Creampie

Word Count: 6.4K

Masterlist

Being a barista is pretty awesome. Sure, there were bitchy customers and super early mornings but it had it’s redeeming perks. We got free coffee, tea, and snacks during our shifts, which served the caffeine addict in me. I also learned how to make popular lattes, mochas, and frappes that I ended up making at home for myself one too many times. While there were the occasional assholes who couldn’t appear human before getting their hands on some caffeine, there were the regulars who made it worth it. Most of the regulars were so sweet, I appreciated a familiar face when they came in. Some.. more than others.

“He’s baaaaaaaaack,” my coworker Hazel whispered to me in a sing-song voice as she scribbled a customer’s name on a cup. I turned to see who she was talking about, but I already had an inkling about who it was.

My suspicions were correct. I turned to see one of our kindest regulars, my personal favorite customer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Is it weird to know the full name -including the honorific- of a customer? Possibly. But when I’d asked for his name to write on his cup the first time he came in, he accidentally gave me his full name.

“Dr. Reid- uh, Spencer. Sorry, work habit.” He stuttered, avoiding my eyes after the mistake.

“No worries! What can I get started for you?”

As a Criminology major, I learned to study the people who catch my attention before indulging them. Call it an old habit.

Dr. Spencer Reid had earned his title and then some. He’d joined the FBI at only 22, having six degrees under his belt by the age of 27. He’d written several dissertations and co-wrote novels with his colleague, David Rossi. Someone with his reputation could be a pompous ass and have a leg to stand on, which is what made his humbled demeanor so much sweeter. He was also incredibly easy on the eyes, which was a nice little bow on top.

Hazel liked to joke about how we’d make a cute couple but I know she only did it to watch me get flustered.

I walked towards the counter to take his order, leaving Hazel with the task of refilling the caramel syrup. I’m always the one to help him since he very aptly pointed out that I’m the only one who makes his coffee just how he likes it.

Some days, he’d let me surprise him with a random creation. I’d confirm if he wanted caffeine (he always did), iced or not, and any flavor requests. He’d take his drink, tip me handsomely and let me know his thoughts on the drink the next time he came in. So far, his favorite was the almond milk honey latte I’d concocted. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, especially with regulars who were as consistent as him.

“Hey Doc, what can I get ya’?” I asked.

“The usual, please,” he said with a smile. I nodded and set off to make his drink: a venti dark roast with a shit ton of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.

“Of course!” I quickly go to fill his order, making sure to put a complimentary treat in a bag for him. I know he had the ultimate sweet tooth so I try to sneak him a confection whenever I can. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the free pastries, but nowadays he usually smiles when he sees the small bag.

“Here ya’ go.” I handed him his steamy cup of caffeine along with the little treat, seeing him smile at the small pun I add to his cup, “Have a BREW-tiful day, Doctor!” I watched as his lips landed on the rim of the cup, taking a long sip of the hot coffee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the sight making my cheeks promptly flush. I cleared my throat before asking, “Is it good?”

“It’s always good when you make it,” he stated matter of factly, a small smile touching his lips. The heat in my cheeks rose again. “Will you be taking a course this summer?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. My first day is actually later today. I’m surprised the class section was open, to be honest.” Super surprised actually. I’d been trying to enroll in this class for the past couple of semesters but it was always full by the time I was able to even load the registration page.

“Well, I’ll wish you luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can just tell.” He stated calmly, like it was common knowledge. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Before he could respond, an insistent cough caught both of our attention. I peeked over Spencer’s shoulder to see a customer waiting for his order to be taken. I turned my attention back to the Doctor, an annoyed look painted on my face. He nodded, taking a hint from the impatient mouth breather behind him.

“Thank you for the coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope that class goes well.”

“Bye, you too.” I waved, watching as he exited the door. I turned to the waiting customer, a bit miffed that he interrupted our conversation. But because I was at work, I plastered a fake smile on my face so that he wouldn’t see just how annoyed I was. “Welcome, how may I help you?”

●●●

After clocking out at 2:30 PM, I made a dash for the building where my class would be held. It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour, but I wanted to be sure to get there in time to choose a good seat and settle in before the rest of the class arrived.

Luckily room 301 was relatively empty so I was able to score a perfect seat by the window. I decided to kill some time by listening to some music and doodling randomly in my notebook. Some time had passed when I felt someone take the seat next to me. I turned to see a young man occupying the chair beside mine. He looked to be a frat boy based on the Greek letters he was sporting. Who wears a cap and hoodie in this weather? I really hope he didn’t expect to cheat off of me- although these types of guys always seem to do so.

I was about to return to my doodle when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned to give the offender my full attention, removing one of the earbuds from my ears.

“Hey, I’m Tony,” frat boy said, with a wide smile adorning his face. I must admit, his boyish grin melted the slight annoyance I had begun to stir toward him. I returned his greeting and introduced myself as well. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he continued, “but I like to have at least one buddy in each of my classes. In case we need help or miss an assignment or something.”

I nodded my head - a friend in a class was always useful when it came to studying and swapping notes. We chatted a bit more, learning about each other’s major and why we both decided to take a summer course. Tony is a double major and this course will satisfy the credits he needs for his psychology requirement. This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

It wasn’t until I heard the hush of the classroom that I realized the class was about to begin. I turned back to my notebook, preparing to jot down some important information despite it being the first day of class.

“Good morning class.” Wait. That voice... I didn’t even need to pick my head up to know who had spoken. “This is Criminal Psychology and I am your instructor, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Professor Monroe could not cover this course so I’ll be his permanent replacement. Now…”

I raised my head, watching as he continued to talk about what is to be expected in this course while a TA handed out the syllabus. He went on, able to capture the attention of everyone while speaking of the experiences he had with an array of criminals. His eyes scanned the room and for a brief moment I thought they would land on me, but they continued to take in the mass amount of students before him.

My concentration was broken by Tony passing me a copy of the syllabus. I scanned it over, making sure to highlight all the important dates. I didn’t want any exams or projects conflicting with my work schedule. I also made note of how the overall grade system is broken down. The whole thing seems pretty fair and everything was spaced out enough where I wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with the workload.

“… and that pretty much wraps it up. Does anyone have any questions?” I tuned in just as he was pulling the first class to a close. No one raised their hands, so he dismissed us with a reminder to read the first chapter of the textbook and to check for any emails.

“So do you want to grab lunch?” Tony asked from beside me. I contemplated whether or not to go with him. He must have seen the hesitation in my face because he quickly added, “Not as a date or anything, I just wanted to grab a bite and I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Sure,” I smiled, “Let me just ask the professor a quick question about his office hours and I’ll meet you at the food court.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Tony gathered his stuff and exited the back door.

I focused my attention on the podium, seeing a gaggle of girls surrounding him asking redundant questions. From what I could hear, their questions could have been answered if they’d read the syllabus. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were probably more focused on him rather than what he was saying during class. I waited a few more minutes for them to finish up before I made my way to him.

“So do I call you Doctor or Professor now?” I laughed.

“From you, I’d respond to either,” he replied warmly. The comment made me blush. If he looked into my eyes at that moment, he’d see more stars in them than the night sky. I bit my lip to stop the idiotic grin from spreading across my face.

He’s your professor, get a hold of yourself.

“How can I help?” he asked, bringing me back to the original reason as to why I was standing in front of him without a cash register between us.

I cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if it was possible to see you outside your normal office hours? I usually work the morning shifts and I don’t want to flood your emails with my questions.” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You can come to my office at whatever time works best for you. I know balancing a work and school schedule can be hard. Besides, I’m usually there handling paperwork anyway.” He gave a small shrug, pushing his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the rest of the semester Professor Reid.” I liked the way his newfound honorific rolled off my tongue.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” With that, I left and headed out to meet Tony.

I was able to find him at the food court. We got some food and chatted more about our classes as well as life outside of school. He made it easy to be his friend, and it was nice having someone to talk to. He works as a waiter so we shared our customer service horror stories and tales of sneaking food at work. It was a nice distraction that took my mind off of Dr. Reid and the ongoing battle of calling him Doctor or Professor. As Tony rambled, my mind wandered about other things I’d like to call Spencer instead.

●●●

In that short span of two weeks, we already had an exam, an oral presentation, and a report on the psychoanalysis of serial killers. Not one day had been wasted, but this is what to be expected from a summer course. The essay was due the day before. Now we had to wait for our grades which gave us a moment to take a breath.

I was worried that my paper was subpar; especially since I chose to write about Andrei Chikatilo, a serial killer from Ukraine. He wasn’t as popular as those in America, so I ended up spending hours on deep research to find substantial information about his crimes. It also didn’t help that some of the original reports weren’t in English. I had worked hard, and hoped Professor Reid would see that, even if my writing could sometimes be a little weak. I was worried about the grade as our research papers held the weight of 20% of our final mark.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N! Anyone in there?” Hazel’s voice pierced through my worry bubble, her hand waving in front of my face. I shook my head, trying to focus on restocking the coffee beans.

“Sorry Haze, I’m thinking about this class.”

“Funny you say that; your favorite professor just walked in. Thought you might want to take his order.” She wagged her brows at me, making kissy faces as I hurried to the front register, trying my best to not let my eagerness be so glaringly obvious.

There he was, in his usual handsome glory, patiently waiting for me to take his order. He greeted me with a small smile that I happily returned.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you today?”

He debated for a moment before saying, “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.” I already had an in my head; it’d been a while since he asked me to make him a random drink so I’d had plenty of time to plan. We got an early shipment of ingredients for our fall-themed drinks and I figured he would appreciate some pumpkin spice in his caffeine. “How are the papers coming along?” I asked casually as I rang him up.

“Pretty well. I’m almost done, so you’ll all receive your grades later today.” Wow, that was fast. I wondered if he stayed up reading all those papers to be done by today. Probably not, a TA must have helped him.

“I am a bit nervous about mine, especially since it’s worth a huge part of our final grade.” I really wanted to get an A in this course, but it was hard juggling everything in such a short amount of time.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassured. “I haven’t properly finished yours yet but it looked great just from what I’ve seen thus far.” His words gave me a little reassurance.

“Thanks. I put a lot of effort into it. Let me grab your coffee now.” Spencer walked towards the pick-up station while I grabbed a venti cup for his drink. Just when I was about to make his order, I saw another familiar face come up to the register. “Tony, hey!” I shouted, placing the cup back down, “What can I get you?”

This was the first time he’d been here, despite him saying for the past few days that he’d stop by for a visit, even with the promise of a cake pop if he did. It was nice to see another familiar face.

“Hey coffee girl, how you doin’ today?”

“Just peachy. My feet are killing me, though.” Just saying the words caused the ache on the soles of my feet to spike higher. I thanked my lucky stars I was almost done with this eight-hour shift.

“Give me the chance to sweep you off your feet, I promise you won’t regret it.” he offered boldly. It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about taking me out. I laughed, especially since he had a girlfriend. She met us for lunch one day and we became fast friends- she was an incredibly sweet and intelligent girl, polite and elegant as well. It is a wonder how his frat boy charm won her over but opposites attract, I guess.

“Shut up, Casanova. What are you gonna have?”

“I’ll have a grande iced matcha latte, please.” I should’ve known. He told me that he loves matcha flavored food and drinks the first time we grabbed lunch after class. He had complained that there was no good place to get one on campus.

“Coming right up.” I quickly filled his order since it was faster to make compared to the pumpkin spiced latte. I handed him his bribe-cake pop, matcha flavor of course, while he waited for me to finish making his drink.

“By the way, we’re still studying at the library for the exam later tonight, right?” Tony asked.

“Yup, I’ll meet you at 8.”

“Copy that, see you later coffee girl.” He turned to leave while I turned to make Professor Reid’s order. I put extra whip cream and a bit more syrup to satiate his sweet tooth. I grabbed a fresh chocolate muffin from the display case and popped it into a bag for him as well, drawing yet another pun on the good doctors bag. “Thanks for being such a TEA-rrific professor!”

“Here ya’ go Doc,” I called out before placing his drink and muffin on the counter. I looked up to see him no longer smiling. “Is everything okay?”

Ignoring my question, he said, “I wasn’t aware you were so close to Mr. Montgomery.”

“Oh yeah, we study together once in a while.” I could have sworn I saw his frown deepen before his features became void of any emotions. He shifted his eyes downward, his hand moving rapidly to grab the cup.

“I should get going.”

“Oh, okay” Before I could say goodbye, he was already halfway out the door.

That was weird. I looked at the counter and noticed that he left the cupcake behind. Maybe he was in a rush?

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on making it through the last couple of hours of work.

●●●

I made my way to the classroom, smiling at Tony as he pulled out my seat for me. Professor Reid walked in a few minutes later, his tall figure drawing all the attention to the center of the small stage. He let us know he already graded the papers and that they would be distributed by the TA before the end of class. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach but decided to brush it off and pay attention in class. Despite my attempts to focus on his lecture, I found my mind wandering every so often anyway.

I couldn’t help but think he was less animated today. Usually, he taught with such passion that the class couldn’t take their eyes off him. But today, it felt as if we were all in a boring seminar with an ancient professor. Tony kept glancing at the clock, probably also wondering why time felt like it was going by so slowly.

I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling the entire class. It didn’t help matters that every time I would raise my hand to answer a question, he would call on another student. What the hell did I do?

I decided to tune out the rest of the class. There is no point in being an actively engaged student if I wasn’t going to get treated like one. I’d just get the notes from Tony later.

Thirty minutes before the end of class, the TA handed out our essays while Professor Reid wrapped.

“Some of you did very well, while a few others struggled with the assignment.” His eyes landed on mine as he said that. It was the first time he had glanced in my direction the whole class. He moved on to the other side of the room. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. “If you have any questions you can see me at my office hours next week or send me an email. You are dismissed.”

The TA finally made his way over to me, handing my essay in a slight fold. I looked at the grade on top and almost dropped the paper. My heart sped up as I stared at the letter in bright red ink. No way, no way this could be my report. I looked at the right-hand corner and saw my name at the top. I read through the first page and saw they were indeed my words.

How the fuck was it possible that I got a D on this paper? I knew my writing wasn’t the strongest, but a D?

“How you’d do?” Tony asked. For a moment I forgot I was in a room with other people.

I cleared my throat, trying to relive the lump so that he didn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Umm, not what I expected. I’m going to try to speak to him about it.” Tony was a smart kid, so I was sure he could see how tense I was. Luckily he didn’t question me any further and instead told me he’d text me later before leaving the classroom.

Fortunately, there were no other students in the classroom to slow me down this time. I walked right up to the podium, watching as Professor Reid placed some papers in his satchel.

“Professor, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, I’m busy,” he replied, not even bothering to glance in my direction. This can’t be real. The sweet, kind Doc could not be the man acting like a total asshole right now.

“I really need to discuss with you my paper,” I pressed, raising my voice a little louder in an attempt to get his attention. That was wishful thinking on my part since he continued to fiddle with his satchel.

“I said I’m busy,” he uttered once again, his voice void of any emotion. He was about to walk past me, ignoring my whole being. His blatant disregard made my cheeks burn, and not in the usual way they usually did when I was around him.

“Spencer,” I barked, “We need to talk. Now.” For a few moments, he stood in front of me, his back facing my direction.

I was about to speak again before I heard him say, “My office. Half an hour.” He exited, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. The only things keeping me company were the fuming feelings swirling inside me and the failed paper clutched at my fist.

●●●

I knocked on his office door ten minutes earlier than he’d told me. The anger in my gut brewed hotter the longer I waited. As soon as I heard a “Come in,” I rushed through the door, slamming it behind me. He regarded me coolly, but didn’t comment on my actions.

“What can I do for you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” I walked up to his large desk, not bothering to take a seat in the chair in front of me. I took a moment to calm myself down before replying.

“Well, you can start by explaining to me why I got such a low score on my paper.” I guess he didn’t like being the only one of us sitting down because he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

“It did not meet the requirements for a passing grade as outlined in the rubric. The information given was boring and the overall topic was uninteresting. It was tedious to get through,” he responded nonchalantly, like he was giving me a weather report.

“You said that you enjoyed it so far.” I rebutted, placing my hands on the desk. I needed something to offer me stability so that I wasn’t visibly shaking.

“I’d mistaken your work for another student’s. Maybe Mr. Montgomery,” he dryly clipped.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I put the puzzle together. Was- was he serious? Was this man acting like this because of Tony? The audacity! The laugh that bubbled from my lips must have unsettled him. He left his position from the wall in favor of standing in front of me.

“You want to know what I think?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing, “I think you’re jealous that I have another guy that isn’t you getting friendly with me at the shop and because of your inability to keep your---“

“That is enough,” he grounded out, shaking his head. But I didn’t stop talking.

“--private feelings away from your professional ones, you decided to give me a failing grade. Do you know how hard I worked in-” my voice rose up higher and higher until I was yelling.

“I said that’s enough,” he said again, louder this time. But I wasn’t done.

“-this class? This is my life, my fucking future on the line. I’ve told you how important this all is to me and you don’t even give a shit! You’re going to let your interpretation of my relationship with another student influence the way you do your job? And here I thought you were a decent man, Professor.” I hissed, “Do you even give a damn abo-”

“Enough,” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk and caging me against the wood. His breathing was matching the upbeat pace of my own. His quick movement and the sheer volume of his voice caught me off guard, effectively silencing me.

“I don’t deserve to be punished over your envy,” I whispered, locking eyes with him in a steady gaze.

“You want to see a real punishment, darling?” he hissed, the heat of his words almost breaking my glare, his breath fanning along my face.

We stared at one another for a while, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The tension between us kept rising and rising until the inevitable happened. I couldn’t be sure who made the first move but before I knew it, our lips collided with a mix of rage and desperation. My arms draped around his neck as he pressed me on to the desk. He placed his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up high enough until I was perched on the cool wooden surface.

Spencer’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh way he was kissing me. His tongue parted my lips, gliding over mine with fervor. I couldn’t help but moan as he rolled his hips into me. He continued his rough grind, keeping my legs open as we moved as close together as our bodies would allow. He overwhelmed my senses- the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything was making me absolutely feral for this man.

I never expected the gentle Dr. Reid to be so fervent, so sensual. The kindhearted, sweet professor who regularly drank his weight in caffeine never gave me this impression. But then again, I’m sure he was shocked by my attitude as well. He knew me as the friendly, bubbly barista, now student, who enjoyed his class. He was about to meet a whole new side of me, just like I was going to for him.

Spencer pulled away from me, our mouths making an audible ‘pop’ sound from the sudden separation. I tried to catch my breath as he stared at me, our chests rising and falling together. If I were to move a bit closer to him, we would be touching once again.

He took a few steps back before motioning me to step in front of him. “I want you to get down on your knees. Now.” I wasn’t going to argue with him, mainly because I wanted the exact same thing he did. I kneeled down, keeping my eyes on his face.

“You going to shut me up, Professor?” I teased, feeling powerful, even though he was looming over me. He didn’t reply, just continued to look down on me with those honey colored eyes- full of lust and rage.

I watched as he slowly placed his hands on his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons. He drew down his pants and boxers at the same time, just low enough to reveal his impressive size. My mouth salivated at the sight of his bulge as he came closer to me.

“We’re going to put that smart mouth to better use. Open.” He said, gripping my face between his fingers, forcing me to follow his orders. I opened my mouth slightly, not giving him exactly what he wanted. Instead of ordering my mouth to open further like I expected, he placed his thumb inside. He pushed the digit deep, pressing it against my tongue. I moaned around the finger, softly nibbling at the skin. He continued to slide his finger within my mouth before dragging it out completely. He wiped the excess spit on my cheek before lightly smacking it. The small shock of pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Open, and do it right this time.”

I obeyed, opening wide enough to accept him into my mouth. My lips were stretched almost uncomfortably in an attempt to fit around him. He was so hot and thick, I couldn’t help but hum at the taste of him on my tongue. The soft “fuck” that fell from his lips had me purring around him. I went to place my hands on the remaining portion that couldn’t fit, but he batted them away.

“You’re using only your mouth.”

Fine, have it your way, Sir.

I placed my hands behind me as I bobbed my head, hallowing my cheeks with every rise. His shallow thrusts encouraged me to suck harder. I slowly pulled away to run my tongue against the vein protruding on the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with a groan escaping his lips.

“I should have known that you would be so good at this, darling,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he tried to control his grunts.

I made sure to look in his eyes as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. The face he made was purely angelic. The muscles of his neck protruded more evidently and his breathing became more labored. I placed him back in my mouth, this time taking my time to go down on him.

“That’s right, Princess. Show me what a good girl you are for me.” He moaned as I felt his hands weave in my hair before he pushed my head down on to him, causing me to gag around him, tears pricking my eyes. He continued his thrusts into my mouth, barely allowing me a chance to breathe. My nose repeatedly touched the base of him as I swallowed around his hard length.

Spencer tightened his fingers in my hair and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. The pace was brutal, but I enjoyed the rough treatment. Knowing that I was the one making him feel good was such a turn on. He buried himself deep in my throat after a few more thrusts to finish. I swallowed his release like the greedy brat that we both now knew I was.

He eventually pulled out, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. I swiped the back off my hand across my mouth to clean off any leftover spit and cum.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

I did so, rubbing the ache in my knees as I slowly rose. “I want you bent over the desk,” he continued.

“I want you to answer my previous question.” I quipped.

“You’re not in the position to be making commands,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers in my hair again, pulling just roughly enough so that I was looking up at his face. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest bending over my desk before I stuff my cock in that bratty little mouth of yours again.”

He released me, eyes still on my face waiting for me to follow through on his order. I turned to his desk and did as he asked, bending over the wood until my chest laid flat against the surface. I waited as patiently as I could for him. It felt as if I was in this position for an eternity before he touched me. He pushed both my underwear and skirt down to my knees before placing his hands on my hips. I heard it before I felt it- the smack on my ass that caused me to yelp.

“Fuck, Spencer. What the—” I was cut off with another resounding smack.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to give you a real punishment, darling?” I took a deep breath as another shiver went down my spine. He had no business sounding so hot right now. Another smack, this time on my opposite cheek, had me biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“This” *SMACK* “Is” *SMACK* “What” *SMACK* “Happens” *SMACK* “To” *SMACK* “Bratty” *SMACK* “Little” *SMACK* “Girls” *SMACK*. A sob ripped from my chest as the last blow landed. My ass was on fire and surely littered with his hand prints.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood since you sucked me off so nicely, or I would have made that worse.”

Gee, thanks.

“You look like such a dirty slut like this.” I felt a finger enter me easily, the wetness gathered there making my entrance ready to take him. “So wet. Was it the spanking that got you like this, or your mouth around my cock?” A moan was my only reply as he added another finger, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion.

“Are you gonna be my sweet girl, now?” He asked as I moved my hips along his fingers, desperately trying to seek some more relief for the fire burning between my thighs as his mouth littered marks along my thighs. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me as he curled his fingers, a slow moan falling from my lips. He pulled them out of me, wiping the slickness against my still burning ass. Fucking bastard. I wiggled my hips against him, hoping he would grant me a reprieve and put his fingers back inside me. Instead, he spanked my ass one more time- one quick, sharp blow against the bruised cheek.

Just when I was about to yell at him, he placed the head of his member against my entrance. He moved up and down my drenched entrance before penetrating me in one full thrust. I took a short breath in, trying to get used to feeling so full. He was stretching me out in the most amazing way.

Spencer waited until I was grinding against him before he pulled out and pushed back into me. “Look at you, such a wanton little bitch aren’t you?” He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop fucking me.

He kept a steady pace, making sure to grind into me every time he slammed back in. The obscene sound of our skin smacking against one another’s and the moans escaping our throats was an erotic symphony that had my body heat raising the temperature in the room.

He hitched my leg on top of the desk, entering in an angle that made the pleasure so much better. I couldn’t stop the whines that kept escaping my mouth every time he pounded into me. His hand stayed upon my leg, holding me down and limiting my movements. His nails dug into the skin so harshly I was sure there would be bruises left in their wake.

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he hissed under his breath. “Should have known you just needed to be fucked like the cheap whore you are.” He sped up, hips snapping at an almost punishing pace. The desk creaked every time he slammed into me. I hoped no one was nearby to hear what was going on. A whine left my throat when I felt his fingers rub against my clit. I was so close now.

“Should I stay inside you? Fill you up so you walk around campus carrying my child?” He growls, his pace increasing with each passing moment. “Knock you up so the whole campus knows what a whore you are for me?” He asks, earning a cry ripped from my throat.

“Who’s fucking you?” he grunted. I don’t know how he expected me to form a coherent statement at this current moment. My eyes could barely stay open at this point.

“Spencer, please.” He smacked the outside of my thigh.

“Try again, who’s fucking you?”

“You are, Doctor.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer too, because it earned me another smack on my thigh. I had tears streaming down my face from the pleasurable pain he was giving me.

“You have one more chance or else I’m not letting you come. Now, who’s is fucking you?”

“Professor Reid!” I cried out.

“That’s right darling. Now come on my cock.” A harsh bite on my neck was the ultimate push that had me seeing stars. Spencer thrusted a few more times before fully sheathing himself within me.

He slumped over me, the feel of his breath against my neck causing me to shiver once more. We took a moment to have the high leave our body before he pulled out of me, a gasp leaving the both of us. Spencer was the first to break the silence between us.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, his voice a bit shy.

I giggled at his demeanor. A few moments ago, he was fucking me senseless and spanking me over his desk like a porno, and now he was asking me out to dinner.

“Absolutely,” I smiled. “But I should probably cancel my study plans.” I quickly added.

He led me to the faculty bathroom so I could freshen myself up. When I emerged, he was back to being the prim and proper professor I knew him to be. Just before we left his office, he leaned down and whispered, “By the way, you got an A.”

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barbatos-devotee · 4 years ago

Text

Picnic Date

Genshin x Reader

Gender: Neutral

Character: Xiao

A/N: Oh boy, my second request! And it’s about the adeptus man himself! I think I might have a grasp on his characterisation, from the game and other people’s writing of him, so I’ll do my best with this one! I think this is also my longest one yet!

You giggled to yourself as you rode the elevator up to the top floor of Wangshu Inn. A smile graced your face, and you were in the best of moods today. A brown picnic basket rested upon your arm, and you covered the lid with one hand, to make sure it stayed steady. As the elevator stopped at the top floor, you stepped out and gave a short greeting to Soraya, who was stood in her usual spot near the elevator.

“Good afternoon Soraya! Have you found any other interesting relics lately?”

“Good afternoon (Y/N)! In fact, I have! The Traveller helped me find a very interesting Jade Plate lately, so I’m researching it now! Are you off to meet your boyfriend again?”

“That’s wonderful! And yes, I am! We’re having a picnic today, I’m very excited!” Soraya giggled, and waved you off.

“Of course, I won’t hold you back any longer then. Have fun!”

“I will!” You gave a wave back to Soraya, and then you continued walking over to the railing of the Inn’s balcony. There weren’t many people here today, and Verr Goldet and the owner were most likely inside of the Inn still. A dog lay near the entryway of the inn, and it wagged its tail when it saw you, hopping up and trotting over. You grinned and bent down to scratch the dog behind it’s ears, cooing at how cute it was.

“What are you doing?” A voice came from behind you, and you beamed with excitement. You stood quickly and turned around, coming face-to-face with Xiao, your boyfriend. He stared down/up (if you’re taller) at you with those shining golden eyes of his, and you found yourself melting in them as you always did. Your arms moved to wrap around Xiao in a hug, and he returned the gesture.

“I missed you!” You cried, giggling excitedly. Xiao huffed, and probably rolled his eyes. He pulled back and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, before leaning back completely.

“You just saw me yesterday, have you forgotten?” A pout crossed your lips, and you reached over to intertwine your fingers with his own.

“Yeah.. but I still missed you! I just want to stay with you all the time!” Xiao’s eyes softened, as they always did when he was around you, and he gently placed a hand on your cheek.

“I know you do, love, but you know you can’t. It’s too dangerous, and you are only human. I would be devastated if you got hurt...” You leaned into his hand, closing your (e/c) eyes in content. Your free hand came up to rest gently on his wrist.

“I know... but being an adventurer is dangerous too you know! But I do understand. I wish I was as strong as the Traveller, they’re super strong...” Xiao shook his head, and you opened your eyes, looking at him with big, shining orbs. This allowed you to see Xiao give you one of his rare, dedicated-only-for-you smiles.

“You are lovely just the way you are, (Y/n). You don’t have to be as strong as them just for me. Besides, they aren’t from this world anyways. They’ll have to leave eventually, and you get to stay. Now, what do you have there?” The question snapped you back to reality, and you remembered why you were here today.

“Oh, right! Let’s go on a picnic! I’ve got all the stuff here, we can go sit in a field at Guili Plains! It’ll be fun, I promise!” Xiao chuckled at how excited you were, enjoying himself just by watching the sparkle in your eye.

“Of course. But are you sure you want to go to Guili Plains? It’s been a little dangerous there lately..”

“I’m sure! I found the best spot, trust me! And besides, you can protect me!”

“Hmm, I suppose so. But I don’t want you to be in danger in the first place...” You began to pout, giving Xiao the best puppy-dog eyes you could muster.

“Oh, come on Xiao! Please please please?” Xiao blushed, and he huffed, looking away from you.

“Oh- fine. But you better have brought Almond Tofu.” You grinned, and began to tug the adeptus along. Of course you did.

After some walking, and the stabbing of a few stray hilichurls along the way, the two of you made it to Guili Plains. You grinned and dragged Xiao along behind you, the adeptus happily letting himself be handled as such. Only for you would he let himself be pulled along, as he loved you so. It made him upset at the thought that he would one day lose you, but you were ever the optimistic one, and you just took him on many dates and trips that you said would be “worth remembering”. They always were for him, and you always brought smiles to his normally grumpy face, but still, deep in his heart, he was still scared. A voice speaking managed to snap Xiao out of his thoughts.

“We’re here! Come on, come on!” You brought your boyfriend to a specific spot, underneath a tree, in a field of flowers. He gazed around the area for any potential dangers, while you pulled out your picnic blanket and spread it on the ground. You took a seat on the blanket and smiled up at the adeptus, patting the spot next to you. Xiao walked over and took a seat, sitting rather awkwardly on the blanket. You giggled at the sight.

“This is nice, we’ve never had a picnic before! All of our other dates were usually walking around Liyue Harbor or fighting monsters.” You giggled, and Xiao blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah I.. sorry about that. I just.. I really care for you and even if it’s been a month, I want to try to do whatever I can to make you happy. But I’m still despairingly new to this.. and I’m still always so worried for you, because I’m so dangerous to be around..” You gave him a soft smile, looking at the adeptus with gentle (e/c) eyes.

“I think you’re doing splendidly so far, Xiao. Don’t worry about it! Every second I spend with you is wonderful, no matter what. Here, have some almond tofu! I’m going to go collect some flowers really quick!” You handed your boyfriend the tofu you’d specially made for him, before standing and heading towards the colourful flowers. There were sweet flowers and Glaze Lilies, and other smaller pink and yellow flowers. You began picking a few, humming a song to yourself all the way. Xiao watched you as he ate his tofu, absolute love and adoration in his eyes. How did he ever land someone as beautiful and wonderful as you? With your (h/l) (h/c) hair, your soft (s/c) skin, and your (e/c) eyes shimmering like the brightest of gems. Xiao felt luckier to have met you than he’s ever felt in his life. After a few minutes, you’d gathered an armful of flowers, and skipped back over to Xiao. You settled yourself back down, and began working with the flowers you’d collected.

“Xiao, tell me more stories while I work on this!”

“What are you making?”

“It’s a surprise, silly! Now come on, tell me more!” Xiao sighed, playfully rolling his eyes before leaning over and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You giggled, and then began to fiddle with the flowers in your lap as Xiao launched into another exciting tale of his life as an adeptus. The demons he’s killed and the places he’s been to. The stories always filled you with such excitement, especially as an adventurer. The farthest you’ve ever traveled had been halfway into Dragonspine, but you and your party had to retreat before you all froze to death, and you also almost died to a Ruin Grader.

Xiao hadn’t been too thrilled to learn that, and he clung to your side when you adventured for a week. And this was before you even began dating last month. The thought made you giggle. Even if it was a worrying situation, the fact that the normally cold to others adeptus had worried for you made you feel warm inside. The two of you had known each other for nearly a year before you began dating, you having met him on your adventures through Liyue after you’d set off from Mondstat. He had been so indifferent and cold back then, but the two of you had grown closer and more fond of each other since. The memory made you happy.

Xiao had nearly finished his story when you completed what you were working on. He was so distracted in telling the tale, that he didn’t notice you reaching over towards his head. He only paused when he felt something land snugly around his hair. Xiao reached up, and felt the soft petals of the flowers you’d collected. They’d been woven into a flower crown and placed atop his head. You grinned, and placed your own flower crown on your head, giggling at your boyfriend’s shocked reaction.

“We match! Aw, you look so cute Xiao!” The adeptus blushed, and buried his face in his hands for a few moments, grumbling under his breath something about “cute” and “love you so much”. You giggled again. Xiao sat up and reached his hands out, cupping your cheeks and pulling your face close to his, entrapping your lips in a kiss. Now it was your turn to blush, and Xiao buried his face in the crook of your neck, scooting closer to wrap his arms around you in a hug. You smiled and returned the hug, rubbing gentle circles on his back.

“...Sweet Archons... what did I ever do to deserve you? You’re just so....hn...” Xiao muttered into your neck, nuzzling you as he hugged you tighter. After a few moments of being in the hug, the two of you broke apart, and smiled.

The rest of your picnic date went wonderfully.

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #Liyue #genshin liyue #picnic date #babies in love #y’all cute and whatever #Xiao adeptus

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kandoesfanfics-writes · 4 years ago

Text

A Song Your Soul(mate) Sings

This is my Maribat Secret Santa for @my-northern-downpour. I hope you enjoy it! This is a soulmate!au based off of a trend on TikTok in which soulmates can hear each other when they sing. I extended this to include humming as well.

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

The room was dark by the time he returned to his bed.

It was sparsely decorated, the six-year old boy not wanting much for potential enemies to use to conceal themselves. His eyes scanned the shadows, watching for the slightest movement, trying to see if there was anyone currently in the room. Seeing nothing that tickled his fight or flight instincts, he cautiously walked into the room before locking it behind him. He quietly barricaded himself in the room before walking over to his meager bed.

His body ached as he laid down to sleep.

Where there was not gauze or bandages was dark skin decorated with purples and blues of varying colors. The pain was a dull throb in his limbs as compared to the sharp pains in his joints. His stomach ached from the punishing training he'd been put through earlier that day. He hadn't wanted to train, but his mother had smacked him and told him to be grateful that he was chosen as heir.

"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche, voilà le portrait sans retouche, de l'homme auquel j'appartiens…"

The joyful echoes in his head began again, right on time. The echo sounded child-like, like the singer was someone his age. The echo sounded feminine, and he wondered why such a feminine voice would be echoing in his ears. He wasn't a girl after all so why did it sound like a girl? Why couldn’t he talk to that echo either? He could always have conversations with himself, but the feminine voice never answered him.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu'il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose, Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça m'fait quelque chose…"

It wasn't in a language he knew either. So far Mother had only taught him Arabic and English. The strange foreign vowel sounds and unfamiliar words made no sense to the little boy. Why was he hearing a voice speaking in a strange tongue?

And was he the only one?

Mother and Grandfather had never talked about hearing strange voices in their heads. Neither had any of the others the little boy had met. If they heard the voices too, wouldn't they have talked about them? Why would Mother and Grandfather hide the knowledge from him… unless they didn't share the same experiences.

The little boy did not fear the voice, but he vowed never to speak of it. While he did not believe the voice was a threat, he did not wish to be seen as defective. He saw what had happened to those deemed unworthy of his Grandfather's presence. He did not wish to die…or worse, go through painful procedures to get rid of the voice in his head.

"Il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause, c'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie, et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon cœur qui bat…"

As he curled into a ball, his daggers close at hand, he listened to the cheerful voice. He listened to the way the strange words would roll, and occasionally stutter, through his mind. It wasn’t terrible...if he had to be honest, it was rather relaxing. The sound was more often than not soft and gentle sounding compared to the harsh orders barked at him daily. Sometimes the voice had giggles and laughter interrupting the words, sending a strange warmth through him. He could feel himself relaxing enough to sleep, but he forced his green eyes to stay open as he wanted to hear more.

“Des nuits d’amour à plus finir, un grand bonheur qui prend sa place, les ennuis, les chagrins s’effacent, heureux, heureux à en mourir…”

He could feel sleep overtake him as he listened to the happy voice, glad that at least one thing in his life radiated warmth and was not tinged with fear.

He hoped Mother and Grandfather never found out.

Damian didn’t want the voice to go away.

————————

“Why do you keep singin’ if you can’t hear them, Mari?” a dark skinned boy asked, picking apart the sandwich his mother made him.

“Because Maman explained that some people can’t sing, Nino!” a little girl with paler skin responded. “Maman said that sometimes people are born without the ability to talk, or they get hurt real bad and can’t talk no more. She also said that sometimes people have a hard time hearing or can’t hear at all, so they learn FSL instead of talking with their mouth! What if my soulmate is like that? They’d be real lonely if I didn’t sing to ‘em!”

The little boy adjusted the small red cap on top of his head and said, “I guess that makes sense.”

The little girl nodded, her bob swinging a little with the force of her movements. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her best friend, Nino Lahiffe, were sitting in her parents bakery, enjoying lunch. Nino was picking apart his food, not feeling very hungry after Chloe Bourgeois called him chubby. Despite Marinette telling Nino he wasn’t chubby, the little boy seemed to be down in the dumps. Marinette had tried to cheer him up by asking about the song he could hear his soulmate singing as Nino was very excited that he was hearing his soulmate more often now.

That had brought them to the conversation of Marinette’s soulmate...who she had never heard before.

Marinette knew her friend wasn’t trying to be mean by asking about it, and that he was worried about her. It wasn’t common that soulmates couldn’t hear one another’s voices so long as both people were alive. If one couldn’t hear their soulmates voice it could mean that they might have died, that they hadn’t been born yet, or that the person didn’t have one. There were also instances where both soulmates were still alive and still couldn’t sing to one another, and that was the type Marinette’s mother had just recently explained to her— people who were unable to verbally communicate due to either issues with hearing or speaking verbally.

Marinette was nibbling on her sandwich too, secretly trying to reassure herself as well.

After all, Chloe liked to tease her that she didn’t have a soulmate.

Marinette shook her head, kicking her feet back and forth. No! Stupid Chloe was wrong! She did have a soulmate! They just couldn’t sing to her right now! Maybe they couldn’t sing at all, but that didn’t matter! As long as she kept singing, they would eventually find her voice...wouldn’t they?

“Hey Mari, do you wanna go to the park?” Nino asked, interrupting her train of thought. “I got a new football. It’s in my bag.”

Marinette smiled brightly, adjusting the straps on her pink overalls before saying, “Prepare to lose, Nino!”

The little girl jumped out of her seat and raced towards his backpack, the little boy following after her. Neither child noticed the dark haired woman watching them with a soft, sad smile. Her near silver eyes shone with love and concern as she watched her daughter go off to play with her best friend. She looked so happy...and Sabine desperately hoped she would stay like that.

———————-

...things at his father’s house were strange.

His rules were confusing.

No killing. None. In fact, Damian got into more trouble killing while with his father. It just didn’t make any sense to him! Hadn’t Mother told Father anything?! Hadn’t Mother told Father that he was going to be heir of both the cowl and the League of Assassins? He had to know how to kill in order to do that! He had to keep up with his skills to be able to maintain and grow to surpass anyone who would challenge him!

But Father told him that he didn’t want Damian to do any of that.

He told Damian that he wanted different things for him than his mother did.

And that confused him.

The other thing that confused him was his place in his father’s house.

With his mother and his grandfather, the dark haired ten-year old’s position was always clear. He was to be the Heir to the League of Assassins. He was to be stronger, sharper, quicker, and more deadly than anyone else in the League. He was constantly being tested by Mother and Grandfather too. He knew that if he did not perform to their standards then a punishment was in order...and they never let Damian forget how replaceable he truly was at the end of the day.

He might be considered more important than the other League members, but he had to continuously earn that position.

Richard Grayson didn’t seem interested in fighting him for the cowl...at all. In fact, the young man seemed to want to get to know Damian. He seemed to get over his annoyance at the younger boy’s appearance rather quickly, and he’d started getting into Damian’s space. He asked him questions, trying to learn more about the newcomer. He didn’t appear to be threatened by Damian very much either, which irritated the aforementioned boy severely.

Dick was quick to suss out Damian’s boundaries, and while he’d ultimately respect them, he was also quick to push them too. His excuse was that Damian needed to act like other ten year old boys, and his father had agreed. While Damian had at first hated it...he had to admit he’d grown fond of Grayson, as the second Damian began to feel anxious, the older one would cease his pushing.

Dick was...well he was an older brother, through and through. He loved Damian, but he wasn’t afraid to try and kick the younger boy’s ass either. Damian appreciated someone who could see he had skill but wasn’t scared off by it. Dick was insistent in getting Damian to learn more about ‘normal’ kid stuff. Dick was the one showing him kids’ movies, loudly singing along to the lyrics, making their father groan.

Tim...Tim still wasn’t okay with Damian. Damian wasn’t okay with Tim either. Damian was more willing to overlook Dick as he was his own superhero— Nightwing. Tim was Robin. Tim was the one who had his role, according to his mother. Tim was the one he was supposed to show he was superior too. Tim was the one he had to get rid of.

But that had made father and Dick extremely angry.

Tim fought valiantly for his position, which Damian respected, but he also seemed to be sticking to Father’s no kill rule. It was clear that Father trusted Tim much more than he trusted Damian. Tim was still with the family. Tim hadn’t been replaced by him. Tim still hung out with Dick, though he did it less when Damian was around. Tim also clearly had Dick’s trust as well, while Damian was still on thin ice.

The younger boy couldn’t explain why that upset him so much, but it did.

As Dick had explained it to him, and Alfred re-explained, ranks were based purely on seniority. Alfred was in charge of Bruce, and Bruce was in charge of them. Dick was the next in line because he was the oldest, then Tim, and then Damian. There wasn’t any fighting in order to gain the upper rank...and despite Damian being on the bottom, he was treated with just as much respect as a living person deserved.

He was allowed to point out holes in plans. He was allowed to talk during meetings. He was allowed to offer his opinion. He was allowed to fight with them...he was allowed to fight without fearing death.

For the first time in Damian’s short life...he was allowed to do things without the risk of death constantly hanging over his head. The most his father would do is bench him from patrols, stop him from training, and put him under house arrest. All of these punishments were preferable to the ones his mother would come up with, and he felt so much better about that.

He was freer to be himself here than he ever had been with his mother.

“Here comes the sun, do, dun, do, do. Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right. Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun, do, dun, do, do. Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right!”

Damian looked up from his oatmeal, grimacing at his elder ‘brother’ as said man skidded into the kitchen in a tee-shirt, boxers, and his socks.

It had been an entire year since his mother had left him with his father. He was eleven years old now, and he’d told his mother that he was staying with his father. He had thought he’d grow used to his ‘brothers’ antics, but it appeared that there was one thing he still wasn’t used to— Dick’s insistence that he break out in a random musical number anytime he felt like it…

“GRAYSON, would you please shut up! Tt, it’s too early for this nonsense!” the green-eyed boy said with a scowl. “Alfred, please tell him that he’s much too noisy.”

“No can do, lil’ D! I have to let my soulmate know I’m a-okay! And the only way to do that is sing!” Dick said happily. “Good morning, Alfred!”

The elderly man shook his head in fond annoyance before saying, “Good morning, Master Dick. If you eat cereal, please leave some left for Master Tim. That boy hasn’t been eating much, but I have been getting him to eat cereal...and do lower your volume, Master Dick.”

“...what the, and I can’t emphasize this enough, fuck are you talking about, Grayson? Where did you hear such nonsense?”

The kitchen fell silent as both Dick and Alfred looked at Damian in shock. Alfred hadn’t even corrected Damian for cursing, both men clearly fighting back and array of emotions. Dick appeared to recover first. His inquisitive blue eyes focused on Damian before he took a deep breath.

“Dames...you know what soulmates are right?” Dick asked slowly.

“What kind of asinine—”

“Master Damian, have you ever heard a voice in your head?”

Damian froze like a rabbit that had just spotted a predator. Despite the boy’s training, Alfred could see it in his microexpressions that the child was afraid. It looked like he had no idea how to answer the question, so the old butler took pity on him and continued.

“This voice...or echo doesn’t sound like it belongs to you. It sounds like someone else...someone you may not know. It could be in another language, possibly, or it could take form in the sound of humming—”

“Almost everyone has one, Lil’ D...” Dick interrupted, his expression twisted with worry. “My soulmate sings back to me after I sing to him.”

The green-eyed boy’s jaw dropped, looking back and forth between Alfred and Dick in an alarmingly vulnerable way. Dick was about to go get Bruce before Damian let out the softest sound of shock and surprise he’d ever heard. He had to strain to hear what Damian said to Alfred next, hating how small and weak the proud boy sounded.

“I’m...I’m not crazy? She— she’s real?”

“Talia never told you about soulmates, did she?” Alfred said, taking the available seat next to Damian. “Of course you're not crazy, Master Damian. This is completely normal.”

Damian shook his head, looking anxiously at the butler and Dick. He thought the voice was just in his head! She was a real person? She was singing to him? Was he supposed to be singing back? Why could he hear her? Why him?

“Why we don’t explain what soulmates are first,” Alfred said softly. “A soulmate is someone whose soul compliments yours. You are whole as you are, Damian, but a soulmate is someone whose personality will compliment yours. They are the one person in the world who has the chance to know you as well as you know yourself. They’re a blessing to have, not a weakness to exploit.”

“In order to be able to find our soulmates, we have an almost telepathic connection of sorts. When our soulmates sing, we will be able to hear them in our heads. The same goes for when you sing. She’ll be able to hear you,” Dick added. “You will be able to find your soulmate through their singing. You’ll know when you’ve met her...Lil’ D...does your soulmate still sing to you?”

“Everyday...though the time has changed since I got to the states. I’m assuming she’s European due to the timezone difference and what I believe is a Latin-based language,” Damian mumbled, twiddling his thumbs. “Is that good?”

“That’s excellent, Lil’ D. It means she hasn’t given up on you,” Dick said with a grin. “So don’t keep her waiting anymore, okay?”

“Mother and Grandfather never talked about—is it safe? I assumed I was crazy because they never spoke of soulmates and neither did anyone else. I thought—”

“You’re not crazy, Master Damian,” Alfred said, this time firmer. “You are just like any other young man with a soulmate. You hear her voice when she sings to you, and you enjoy it, don’t you?”

“...it is a nice song…very pretty…”

“They probably saw their soulmates as weaknesses to their plans, but what they failed to realize is that soulmates are sources of strength as well. Do not be afraid to answer her now, Master Damian. She’s probably been waiting quite a while to hear your voice.”

Damian still felt like he was going to throw up, but he nodded. He was still tense as a freshly tightened spring as he watched Dick return to his breakfast. The older man started humming a tune that Damian recognized was a song from the movie they’d just watched the night before.

“Dick...what’s the name of that song? The one you’re humming from the movie last night?” he asked, trying to control his voice.

Dick raised an eyebrow, surprised by the use of his first name. He calmly told Damian that he was humming ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ as performed by Elton John. He said nothing further as he watched Damian make a beeline towards the door, clearly not wanting to speak anymore on the subject, and abandoning his oatmeal. He looked towards Alfred to see if he should bring him back to at least finish breakfast, but the butler shook his head.

“Let Master Damian go. This must be overwhelming for him as well as slightly invasive. Let him process.”

Little did Alfred know that Damian had already accepted that the voice was in his head. He had already accepted the voice that lulled him to sleep as a piece of him that he’d protect willingly and viciously. The only change was that he now understood why he was so keen on protecting the intruder in his head.

He wasn’t crazy.

She was real.

That song was real.

Everything she ever sang to him was real.

Damian wasn’t broken.

She was real.

———————

The last thing Sabine Cheng expected was for her daughter to be awake at seven thirty am, no matter how early she and her husband got up.

Her sweet little Marinette had never been a morning person, always sleeping in and making herself late. Sabine had tried to break her daughter of the habit, but she was just as stubborn as her father. Now Sabine simply tried to mitigate how late her daughter got up so that she wouldn’t be as late to things.

She’d gone to wake her daughter up as she had errands to run. Sabine needed Marinette to come with her to help carry some of the items they were picking up for her mother-in-law’s birthday while Tom worked the store. Neither parent expected the shriek that came from their daughter’s room.

Nor the disheveled state she came nearly crashing down in.

“MAMAN! PAPA!” Marinette shrieked, her hair half-in, half-out of her braid. “HE SANG! MAMAN, HE’S THERE! PAPA, MY SOULMATE ANSWERED ME!”

Marinette’s eyes were wide with shock as she spluttered, trying to get words out of her mouth. Her hands were flailing in every direction, trying desperately to articulate the words she couldn’t get out. She was still dressed in her pajamas, looking at her parents helplessly.

“Marinette! Marinette, you have to breathe, little dumpling,” Sabine said, grabbing her daughter’s hands. “Take a few deep breaths.”

Marinette took a deep breath, following her mother’s instructions of in and out. As soon as she had stopped practically vibrating out of her skin, Marinette grabbed her mother’s arms and said, “He sang back, Maman. He was so shy and stuttered a lot, but he sang back. He answered me!”

Tom looked absolutely relieved, his posture relaxing slightly. He had been worried about Marinette’s soulmate never singing back, and how that would affect Marinette. They knew that she’d been bullied by the mayor’s daughter for never hearing her soulmate sing, and they knew how bad that had made her feel. Tom then stiffened back up when he realized that Marinette’s soulmate sang back, and now someone would be trying to find his little girl.

Sabine couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her husband. Their daughter was only eleven, so she doubted that someone was just going to come and steal her away! However, she was very excited for her daughter. She kissed Marinette on the forehead before saying, “That’s amazing, little dumpling. You go get changed, and you can tell me about it while we walk to the store.”

Marinette nodded eagerly before pausing.

“Maman? Do you think we could get some English books? To help me practice and learn? I’m pretty sure my soulmate sang in English,” the dark haired girl said, biting the tip of her thumb.

Tom looked at his wife, waiting for her to give the nod of approval, before telling Marinette that of course she could get some English studying material. While Tom was apprehensive of the soulmate that just started singing (why hadn’t he sang before?), he wanted nothing more than his little girl to be happy. He kissed his wife on the cheek before walking back into the kitchen, continuing to work on the pastries.

Marinette couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she raced back up to her room.

Her soulmate sang back to her!

She bounced over to her mirror, picking up her hair brush. She pulled out her hair tie, allowing the braid to fall apart completely. As she began to brush her hair, she picked up where her song had left off before her soulmate had tried to sing back.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose, il me dit des mots d’amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose, il est entré dans mon coeur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause, c’est toi pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, il me l’a dit, i’a juré pour la vie,” she sang, carefully braiding her hair.

She paused for a moment, waiting to see if he would try singing again.

Her soulmate sounded male, but it was hard for her to hear him. He sounded uncertain and shy as he stumbled across his words. Then he sounded a little bit upset before changing to humming a tune she was familiar with. He was humming “La Vie en Rose” which was a song Marinette sang very often, and that was another reason she believed he wasn’t French. He clearly knew the tune, but didn’t seem confident to say the words.

A familiar tune timidly filled her head, soft and sleepy. She felt affection well up in her chest as he continued to hum “La Vie en Rose” to her. Marinette could tell he’d been listening to her every time she sung him that song. He hummed every note perfectly until his voice began to drift off. Marinette wondered for a moment if that means he’d fallen asleep.

She finished getting dressed quickly after that, throwing on her pink sundress and black ballet flats. Blue-grey eyes sparkling with joy and excitement, Marinette practically ran down the stairs, causing her papa to call out to her to be more careful. She told her papa she would as she skipped over towards her mother.

She couldn’t wait to tell her mother about her soulmate humming her song back to her.

——————

It wasn’t until Damian was almost seventeen that he felt comfortable enough actually singing to his soulmate.

At first, he’d attempted a clumsy rendition of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”. He hadn’t been able to remember the words properly, so he’d gotten frustrated and embarrassed. She had been able to hear him messing up! He already hadn’t been singing back to her for years, and now his first attempts were pathetic! He had been worried about how she’d respond to him finally returning her songs, but he’d then begun to worry about what she thought about him screwing it up entirely!

Instead of giving up though, he had decided to hum her song back to her. He knew every note of that song, despite not knowing the words or the name to the song. He had hummed until she answered him back with her own bright cheerful song. She had sung the words, strange and unfamiliar to him, while he hummed the melody, creating the most beautiful sound Damian could have sworn he’d ever heard.

Her voice had sounded even brighter than before, and Damian could tell she was happy. After the first day, he’d noticed an uptick in his soulmate’s humming and singing. The more he’d returned her humming with his own, the happier her voice had sounded. It had warmed his chest in an inexplicable way...almost as if he’d missed her without ever meeting her until he hummed back.

Damian had reached the point where he could easily recall all of the words to Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”, but he’d only hummed it to her. He hadn’t felt confident enough to attempt to sing it out loud again, but he was getting there in small steps. He’d been working on it, speaking the words out loud to ensure he remembered them as to not have a repeat of his first attempt. He had begun singing little bits and pieces to the song, which seemed to get the interest of his soulmate. He had fallen even faster for her when she began to show him what she’d been working on.

Singing in English.

Despite her difficulties, his soulmate had continued to try and sing to him in what she probably assumed was his native tongue. She had learned another language for him! She had learned one of the most difficult languages to learn (the grammar rules could be absolutely atrocious, and Damian hated it) just so he could understand her singing.

The least he could do was actually sing for her.

Especially since his soulmate had grown more somber and sad in the past few years.

Her songs seemed to have changed from the light-hearted melodies about love and life to heavier music, in both genre and topics. She’d never stopped singing the song he’d come to know as “La Vie en Rose” though. It appeared that she only sang it for him now because her voice was always quiet, almost like a whisper as she sang. Some nights she only sang a few words or not at all, which worried Damian greatly. So, he did the only thing he could do.

He hummed to her even when she was silent or didn’t seem to want to sing much.

Damian began to hum to her like she’d sang to him all those days while he still lived with the League. She had dealt with his silence for years, never knowing if she had someone on the other end of her connection. Damian only realized how terrifying that was when she’d gone completely silent for a day, not singing anything at all. He could toughen it out and hum to her until she felt like she could sing again, but it only got worse.

She had begun to sing in the softest, saddest voice Damian had ever heard.

It broke his heart to know she was in pain.

Which led him to his current situation, standing in a busy Parisian patisserie with his father and brother, singing to his soulmate for the first time.

“There's a calm surrender, to the rush of day, when the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away. An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior, just to be with you,” he sang softly, ignoring the shocked looks of both Bruce and Tim. “And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer, that we got this far, and can you feel the love tonight. How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best.”

The small Asian woman behind the counter looked concerned until Tim apologized and kindly informed her that Damian had never actually sang to his soulmate before. The woman chuckled before telling Tim that he didn’t need to apologize, and that their order would be out soon. Tim nodded, paying the kind woman before Bruce guided them both off to the side to wait.

The dark haired boy ignored his brother’s insistent questions, listening for her voice. She was still quiet, having stopped singing the previous song that had gotten Damian so concerned to begin with. He continued to sing, wanting his soulmate to know that even if it felt like no one else did, he cared about her.

He’d have to thank Dick later for his annoying pop music obsession, or he’d never have recognized Sia’s song “Breathe Me”.

“There's a time for everyone, if they only learn. That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn. There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors. When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours,” he continued, ignoring all of the sounds going on around him.

Just as Damian was about to sing the next section, the patisserie door slammed open. A tiny girl(?) with pitch black hair that was falling loose around her face came racing in. He could see tear streaks down her face as if she’d just been crying. Her body posture was defensive. Her arms were crossed tightly against her chest, and her body was hunched over as if she were trying to make herself smaller.

A blond haired guy followed her into the building. He seemed out of breath with his face as flushed as it was. His green eyes reminded Damian of limes or acid, bright and loud. His entire demeanor displayed a nervousness as he tried to reach the girl, whose posture seemed to scream ‘I’m not okay’ the closer he got to her.

“Marinette, listen! It was just a joke! Alya said they didn’t mean it, and Lila already told the class to stop messing up your schedules,” the guy said. “Please, Marinette? Don’t be mad. You’re better than that.”

The young woman, Marinette, stopped dead in her tracks before turning around. With the more composure than Damian had thought she possessed, she simply said, “Adrien, I am allowed to be upset. They destroyed my planner, which had all the events for our class in it. As class president, I’m supposed to have all of those dates written down and available to anyone who needs them. I now have to remake the entire schedule on top of all my other responsibilities. Besides, real jokes don’t normally involve destroying someone’s personal property, now please leave me alone.”

Damian felt his heart drop into his stomach.

He knew that voice like he knew his katana.

He’d never be able to mistake the voice that had lulled him to sleep so many nights.

That was her voice.

He knew her.

“And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer that we got this far, and can you feel the love tonight? How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds, believe the very best,” Damian continued, needing to be certain it was her.

He watched the young woman’s arms fall to her sides, looking almost startled. Her eyes, which he now noticed were an enchanting slate blue color that reminded him of a storm, were now darting around. Her petal pink lips, which looked so soft, were agape which hinted towards her being alarmed by something. Her posture straightened up as she scanned the room again. Not finding what she was looking for apparently, she slowly began to sing, her eyes searching the room once more.

“Et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon coeur qui bat.”

Damian’s heart then decided to make a violent return to his chest as he could hear it pounding in his chest.

It was her.

Those were the last lines to “La Vie en Rose”.

It was her.

——————

Marinette, to say the least, had been having a couple rough years.

At the age of thirteen, she had been given the ladybug miraculous by the former Guardian and became the spotted heroine known as Ladybug.

At around the age of fourteen-fifteen, Lila Rossi had joined her class and the bullying began.

At the age of sixteen, she realized that she had less friends than she thought she did.

And now at the age of seventeen, Marinette was just done.

She hadn’t been able to locate Hawkmoth due to his increasing power, gaining Mayura as an accomplice, and her inability to keep a standard set of heroes. Some people had lost the privilege to wield the miraculous by breaking Marinette’s trust, and others had been compromised by Hawkmoth. This meant that everytime she needed assistance, she either had to combine the miraculous or give a rookie hero a crash course in superhero training.

Add to that Chat Noir’s endless attempts to flirt and get her to sing in front of him, and Marinette was ready to throw herself out a window.

Being a superhero with little to no training had been hard enough, but now she was the Guardian of the box! Now not only did she have to worry about her Kwami, Tikki, she had to worry about all of them! She would also have to do this with absolutely no training as well except from what the kwamis could remember/tell her.

And all of that didn’t take into account the Marinette part of her life either.

Her only solace had been her soulmate, who had slowly been learning how to sing. She had been surprised to hear attempts at singing, as he’d been humming almost consistently since his first attempt, but it made the ache in her chest feel lighter. Her soulmate clearly cared enough about her to try and overcome whatever had been stopping him from singing before, and it made her feel good. She had come to find the humming comforting, but she also found she enjoyed his voice while he sang too.

More grown up now, his voice was a deep baritone that settled into her bones and made her relax. She had found herself wishing she could talk to him more, wanting to hear words instead of humming. She had forced herself to be patient though. If her soulmate had had problems singing before, it was a possibility he’d only recently gained the capability to verbally speak. She didn’t want to be rude and push for more if that was the case.

Which was apparently something none of her classmates understood.

Marinette had walked into her classroom, only to find the planner she had painstakingly put together for the class in tatters on the floor. She’d left it for their teacher to use, as the teacher needed to add a few more dates in for school functions that had just gotten approved. She wished she could say she hadn’t been upset, but she was.

They’d stuck her with this thankless job, due to Lila not wanting to have to do anything, and this was how they repaid her?

She found it ridiculous that they were still bullying her over Adrien. Sure, she’d liked him when he’d first arrived. He was handsome and rather nice, and most girls had a crush on him. She knew he wasn’t her soulmate though. While he could speak perfect English (thanks to his aunt and cousin living in England, and his late uncle speaking mainly English), the time zone differences didn’t match up.

Her soulmate hummed at specific times, and Marinette had attributed that schedule to reflect their difference in time zones. If Adrien had been her soulmate, then the humming would have occurred around the same time Marinette was normally singing. Plus, she’d heard Adrien sing before when Nino had pressured him into doing it.

The click didn’t go off in her head and as a result, her crush slowly began to die out. She’d even explained to Alya the situation when she’d told her former best friend that she was giving up on dating Adrien. Alya knew that Adrien wasn’t her soulmate, so she didn’t want to waste her time on him.

So why had she joined Lila in bullying her?

Why had she conveniently forgotten that Marinette was completely over her crush and didn’t want to date him?

Why had she lied to Adrien about Marinette wanting to date her?

Most of all, why had Alya believed Lila over her?

Marinette hadn’t heard anyone apologizing to her when she raced out of the room, overwhelmed and upset. She was doing her damndest to control her emotions so that Hawkmoth couldn’t akumatize her, but she could still feel the tears hot on her cheeks. She ignored everything else, storming back towards the patisserie, considering telling her parents she’d thrown up on the way to school and decided to turn around and come home.

Taking a deep breath, she began to sing an English song she’d found while browsing around online. At first she wanted to listen to English songs to help her learn her soulmate’s language, but she did end up finding music and artists that she liked.

“Help, I have done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself again today, and the worst part is there's no-one else to blame. Be my friend, hold me. Wrap me up, enfold me. I am small and needy. Warm me up and breathe me,” she sang, picking up the pace as she heard Adrien shout out her name.

“There's a calm surrender, to the rush of day. When the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away. An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you.”

Marinette nearly froze in her tracks.

Her soulmate had sung!

From the sound of his tone, he seemed worried about her. Marinette continued the song she’d been singing, only pausing when he began to sing his song back to her. She had continued walking on autopilot, taking comfort in her soulmate’s voice despite the fact that she could still register Adrien’s shouting in the back of her mind.

She slammed the patisserie door open, too shocked and upset to think about using the private entrance to their home above the bakery. She heard Adrien’s footsteps follow her inside. She had planned on ignoring him, not wanting to have another fight about whether or not Alya and Lila’s latest shenanigans had been ‘friendly teasing’ or not.

She was going to until Adrien opened his stupid mouth to tell her she was ‘better than this’.

“Adrien, I am allowed to be upset. They destroyed my planner, which had all the events for our class in it. As class president, I’m supposed to have all of those dates written down and available to anyone who needs them. I now have to remake the entire schedule on top of all my other responsibilities. Besides, real jokes don’t normally involve destroying someone’s personal property, now please leave me alone,” she’d told him, firmly.

Before Adrien could respond though, she heard her soulmate sing.

Marinette felt like she’d been struck by lightning as she realized she’d heard an echo, meaning that he was also in the patisserie. He was here! He was here, and he was singing for her!

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in everyone who was present. She saw that her father and mother were swamped with orders, doing their best to keep the line short. There were several regular customers in line with a couple new faces, but no one who stuck out. There was a small trio off to the side, clearly waiting for their order.

They did not appear familiar at all but from the looks of their suits, Marinette wagered they were businessmen. Perhaps they were in the city on business? Or perhaps this wasn’t their normal stop for baked goods, but they came here because it was closer?

Still feeling anxious, she steeled her nerves and began to sing slowly, trying to find the one person who would react in the crowd.

Her eyes were drawn back to the trio, noticing how awestruck the one looked.

He was objectively handsome with a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones. He had tanned skin that made the two men next to him look rather pale in comparison. His hair was jet black and well groomed. He looked strong with broad shoulders, and Marinette was certain he had several inches on her as far as height went.

It was his eyes though that caught her attention.

They were a jade green, a bit darker than Adrien’s, but captivating all the same. They were also looking at her with a look of longing that for some reason didn’t frighten Marinette. He looked like he desperately wanted to come over to her, but he appeared to be waiting for something.

The second he realized she had her eyes on him, he opened his mouth and finished the song.

“It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best,” he sang, looking at her almost hopefully.

Marinette felt something in her mind click into place.

She also could swear she heard Tikki giggling from inside her purse.

The little kwami had always told Marinette she’d meet her soulmate one day. She’d also told Marinette that she’d meet him when she needed him most. The little red kwami had seemed extremely confident about that fact and about how her soulmate would be able to help her.

Feeling a nudge from her purse, Marinette swallowed before marching over to where the three men were standing. The one whose gaze had been fixed on her also began to step forward, meeting Marinette half-way. He smiled at her, but his eyes told her he was nervous.

“Hello, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, holding out her hand in what she knew was a traditional American greeting.

He took her hand but surprised her by kissing the back of her hand instead of shaking it.

“Hello, I’m Damian. You have a lovely voice.”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up as she smiled back at him.

“You too...though I’d like to hear it more,” she replied, ignoring the fact he’d yet to let go of her hand.

The grip wasn’t harsh or uncomfortable...but rather warm and reassuring.

“Okay, seriously Demon Spawn,” the shorter man said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is going on, and why were you singing to your soulmate? You never sing out loud! Who is she, and why did you kiss her hand? Do you even know her?”

“Shut. Up. Drake,” Damian hissed, his cheeks coloring a bit. “Can’t you and Father give me a moment?”

Marinette could see the tension building, so she asked the question that had been bugging her since she was a child.

“Why didn’t you ever sing to me before we were eleven?”

This made the two men freeze. A look of realization dawned on them as they looked between Marinette and Damian. The younger of the two had the decency to blush a little bit, mumbling a ‘nevermind’. The older of the two seemed almost...relieved? Happy? Ecstatic?

“Terribly sorry,” the older man said with a smile. “My name is Bruce Wayne. I’m Damian’s father. This is his brother Tim Drake, who I adopted, hence the different last name. Damian, we’re going to take our pastries and head back to the hotel. You can meet us there when you’re done.”

With that, Marinette watched as Bruce pushed Tim towards the exit, still feeling a little confused and dazed. She returned her attention towards Damian, who looked very uncomfortable and upset. She almost told him to forget about her question until he said quietly, “...my mother never told me about soulmates. I wasn’t allowed to sing or hum growing up, but my mother never told me why. They never taught me any songs either. I mainly had to learn them myself. I— I didn’t even realize I was hearing another person’s voice until someone explained it to me.”

Damian was looking down at his shoes, but he managed to lift his head to look at her before continuing.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel lonely or unwanted. I tried singing to you at eleven because I started living with my father around that time.”

Marinette felt relieved and heartbroken all at once.

“You don’t have to apologize just because your mother didn’t tell you about this,” she murmured, getting closer to her soulmate. “I’m just relieved that it wasn’t because you didn’t want me.”

“Excuse me, but Marinette and I were having a conversation! Marinette, you can’t just ignore people! It’s rude! Besides, Alya and Lila are here to apologize.”

The dark haired young woman let out a hiss, making the man in front of her chuckle.

Adrien.

She’d nearly forgotten about him.

Marinette turned around to see that Adrien was glaring daggers at Damian. The blond walked forward and actually had the audacity to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She pushed her arm off of her and stood in front of Damian.

From her new position, she could also see the two harpies from hell waiting at the patisserie door. Alya looked only a little nervous, and Lila had her usual fake sad face on. She could also see the simmering anger in Adrien’s eyes as she chose the stranger over him.

“Oh! Marinette, there you are!” Lila crooned, latching onto Adrien’s arm. “We’re so sorry! We didn’t realize that was your book.”

“I thought you said it was a joke on me though,” she responded, looking between both of them. “If you didn’t know it was mine, why would the joke be on me?”

“We never said that—” Alya began, but Marinette just cut her off.

Reaching into her bag, she took out the little tape recorder she’d been bringing to school to gather evidence. She briefly rewinded it before playing it, the two girls’ voices coming through crystal clear. Her expression did not change as Alya and Lila began to scream about how she couldn’t just record them like that, scrambling to also include how recordings could be taken out of context or misconstrued.

“You’re only mad because Lila won’t let you have Adrien!” Alya shouted, gaining the attention of Marinette’s mother and the other customers. “You’ve had a crush on him forever, and now you’re jealous because you can’t have him because of Lila!”

Marinette could feel a migraine coming on as she bit out, “I. Don’t. Have. A. Crush. On. Him. Seriously? That crush was like a month, two months long before I told you I was over it?”

“Don’t you still love me?” Adrien interjected, looking like a sad puppy.

“Not any more than a friend,” she said bitterly, “but I have no idea if I can consider you even that now.”

“You’re a filthy liar! You so totally have a crush—”

“Excuse me, but could you three kindly fuck off?” a cold voice came from behind her.

Marinette’s head twisted back to see that Damian no longer looked all that shy or vulnerable.

“I’ve waited years to be able to hear her voice in person, as Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng is my soulmate, and I’d really like to get to know her. Without an audience of absolute buffoons,” Damian continued, still coming off cold. “She already asked you to leave her alone, Blondie. My suggestion is take your two bitches and leave before I make you.”

“Ugh, you’re so rude!” Alya snapped. “No wonder you ended up with a cheat like Marinette!”

Marinette felt a twinge in her chest as she looked down at her shoes. She wasn’t surprised Alya had said something like that, but it still hurt deep down. Alya had once been a dear friend of hers, and for her to say such terrible lies about her made her heart break. She went to call out to her mother when Damian let out a snarl.

“You’re the rude ones. You think destroying private property is a joke? You think taking people’s belongings is a joke? You think barging into a place of business isn’t rude? Do you think interjecting on conversations that you’re not a part of isn’t rude? You think what you said isn’t fucking rude? Why don’t you try thinking before you speak? I know that takes up a lot of oxygen, but I can get you a plant if you’re worried about running out. Now, Get. Out.”

Damian cracked his knuckles and slid off his suit jacket, showing off muscled arms that looked a lot stronger than Adrien. He glared at the trio, watching them carefully as they backed off of Marinette. The subtle threat seemed to work as Alya latched onto Adrien’s other arm, both girls pulling him out of the patisserie. They were complaining loudly about how rude he was and continued to say passive aggressive things about Marinette. She thought the situation was going to explode until her mother walked over to them.

“Marinette? What’s going on?” Shouldn’t you be at school? And why were your classmates here?” she asked, gently holding her daughter’s face in her hands.

“I don’t feel well, Maman,” Marinette replied quietly. “It’s getting bad again.”

She watched her mother’s normally gently and friendly face twist into a well concealed look of rage. Sabine’s silver eyes narrowed, slightly worrying Marinette, as she looked at Damian before demanding to know who he thought he was, thinking that he could speak on her daughter’s behalf.

“I’m her soulmate, ‘mam. I wasn’t trying to speak for her, and I apologize if that’s how it was coming off. You see, my mother didn’t allow singing when I was growing up, and I went to go live with my father when I was ten, so for the first ten years of my life, I didn’t know what a soulmate was,” he answered. “It’s been about six years since I learned what a soulmate was, and I’ve been waiting since then to meet the girl who still sings to a silent soulmate.”

Marinette began to blush, stuttering apologies before Damian responded that she had nothing to apologize for. He then smiled at both her and Sabine before asking if they wanted to attend dinner at Le Grand Paris so Sabine could meet his father.

“I’d really like to get to know you, Marinette, but only if that’s what you want too,” he said with a soft smile. “I want this to be your choice as much as it is mine. I don’t want you to think you have to say yes just because we’re soulmates.”

And as she looked into the face of a man who taught himself how to sing just to be able to connect with her when she needed him the most, Marinette actually believed him.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be like Chat Noir and Ladybug…

A hard nudge from her pocket prompted her into answering, “Yes...I’d really like to get to know you too, Damian.”

As he smiled at her, a genuine smile that reached one’s eyes instead of the fake one he’d been using when talking to Lila, she felt her heart skip a few beats. He readjusted his grip on her hand, sending tingles down her arm and making her entire body feel warm. She gently squeezed his hand, receiving an evenly pressured squeeze in return as he talked to her mother about their patisserie shop.

Vaguely in the back of her mind, Marinette wondered if this is what being with your soulmate was supposed to feel like.

If it was...well, Marinette wasn’t going to be trading the warm homey feeling she got watching her mother talk nice with Damian for anything in the world. He seemed to have a quiet sort of charm about him, and he wasn’t easily intimidated by the looks of it, as he didn’t flinch when her father came out to meet him.

No, instead Damian had shook her father’s hand firmly, introducing himself with proud shoulders and confidence. This seemed to make her father happy as he wasn’t frowning as hard when he asked Damian what he did. Her father also seemed satisfied when Damian responded that his father owned a large business, and he was studying to help his older brother take it over once his father decided to retire.

The way he seemed to seamlessly slide into her family, the domestic feeling of it, made Marinette very happy.

Now all she had to do was figure out how to break the news to her soulmate that she was a superhero…

Oh boy.

*Songs in Order of Appearance:

“La Vie en Rose” by Edith Piaf

“Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles

“Can You Feel the Love Tonight” as performed by Elton John

“Breathe Me” by Sia

#maribat #Maribat Secret Santa #Maribat Secret Santa 2020 #Marinette xDamian #daminette #i hope you like it!#long post #it ended up being a biggin'

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years ago

Text

Thicker Than Water (Part 2)

Part 1, (Here) Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

Here we are y’all, it only gets sadder before we heal the hurt.

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Of all the eyes he could have met, purely by chance, in a forest while running from people who wanted to kill him, Yennefer’s were not the one’s he would have chosen. He wasn’t sure who he’d like to see right now. Geralt definitely, but also not. It was only a small mercy Geralt wasn’t with his witchy lady love right now.

She met his eyes, intense and unexpected, like heat lightning. She looked him up and down, lip curling, disgusted and pitying, but somehow not as unkindly as he’d expected. She turned.

“Geralt,” she yelled. “I found your pet.”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

He was about to turn and...run? Hide? What could he do? But then a pale face peeked around a tree. White blonde hair, bright, cautious eyes.

Then the girl gasped and ran forward.

“Dandelion!” The rising cry of delight frightened birds from the trees and a blue blur rushed at him. He was slammed to the ground by a rather bedraggled princess and he had never been so glad.

Of all the people he had burdened, he’d never felt like one around Ciri. Her arms were a vice around his neck. He hadn’t been hugged like that since his sister had passed away and he sat up in the cold, damp leaves, clutching her to him. She looked up at him with a face like a moonbeam.

“I found the white wolf, from your stories,” she said. Her eyes were big and trusting and she seemed to expect Jaskier to be pleased and proud. And he was. He had no doubt that Geralt and Ciri would be good for one another. The issue was that now he had to deal with--

“Jaskier.”

Shit. Geralt.

He stood, setting Ciri gently down and brushing himself off. He turned.

“Hello Geralt,” he said evenly. He hoped it was evenly. Don’t yell at me, he thought. Don’t tell me I’m a burden again, as he stared into impassive golden eyes. I know I’m a burden but just let me leave, I won’t bother you again but I can’t bear it.

“Dandelion can come with us, right Geralt?” Ciri said. The White Wolf raised one eyebrow.

“Dandelion?”

Ciri clutched Jaskier’s hand in one of her mittens. “He played at my name day banquets, all of them, but Jaskier’s hard to say when you’re a baby.”

Geralt met Jaskier’s eyes and it felt like a physical blow.

“Hmmm,” he said.

“Little highness,” Jaskier said sweeping his most over the top bow. “I am afraid I cannot stay, and shall have to part from your delightful company.”

“Is Nilfguaard not looking for you,” Yennefer said cooly.

“They’ve yet to find me.”

“Yet,” Yennefer said. “Isn’t good enough.”

“If they find you they’ll know our secrets,” Geralt said. That hurt. Jaskier would rather die. That Geralt thought Jaskier would give him up, even if they hadn’t parted as friends, stung like salt in an already gaping wound.

“Jaskier you have to come with us,” Ciri said, dragging on his hand. “Please I’ve seen so few people I know come with us.” He couldn’t resist that. He was strong but not that strong. He looked to Geralt hesitantly.

Geralt wouldn’t want him along. He was a shit shoveler and a burden who would only eat their food and make them move slower. But as Geralt had pointed out, Nilfguaard wanted him dead too. They could just kill him here and now. Geralt could have his life’s blessing, but he wouldn’t because he was a good man.

Geralt nodded. “Come,” he said in that rough rumble that Jaskier had missed.

He was coming along. But this time was going to be different. Jaskier wouldn’t be a nuisance or a burden. He wouldn’t talk too much, or get into trouble. He wouldn’t use up rations. He wouldn’t complain. Jaskier set his teeth like steel agains words falling out and nodded.

They slept that night in the forest. It was cold and winter was reaching icy tendrils towards them. Yennefer had a magical tent, but it could only sleep two. She and Ciri claimed it and Jaskier could see why. Yennefer was strong as always but her posture drooped sometimes. She was exhausted. Jaskier had heard of the battle at Sodden, and could only image. Ciri of course needed somewhere warm to sleep. Geralt and Jaskier just pitched tents on either side of the fire.

Jaskier hadn’t eaten with them that night, telling them instead that he’d eaten earlier.

He hadn’t, and his stomach burbled unhappily as he set his tent, but he hummed low so that Geralt wouldn’t hear it. Between risking annoying Geralt and using rations that the others needed, Jaskier would be annoying. It hurt to think of though.

His one man tent was little more than cloth draped between some sticks, but it could be folded up and it was light. He’d patched it so much that it looked like a quilt, but it would keep some of the rain off. He glanced at the moon, almost totally obscurred by clouds. It looked like rain.

Ciri begged for a song and a story but he told her he was too tired.

It was partially true. He hadn’t been eating well lately, preferring to drink his meals, and he’d been walking for days, but he was never too tired to perform, simply too wary of fraying Geralt’s nerves.

It did rain that night, and the pitiful tent dripped freezing water onto him, and the ground was cold and damp and he woke up soaked and shivering before dawn.

No one was up. That was rare, Geralt slept like a tree. As in, he didn’t. Half winks and meditation were most of his sleep schedule, the occasional deep sleep left him snoring and out for at least nine hours, but Jaskier had seen that perhaps a dozen times in twenty years.

Now, though, the mosring was still and the light was dim, causing grey shadows to lurk on the edge of vision, and yet somehow it wasn’t ominous. His body ached and he was cold. Not a patch on him wasn’t damp and clammy, and an acorn or a rock had dug into his back all night.

Regardless, he packed up his tent and gear, changing into some, only mildly dryer, clothes, and then he went in search of firewood.

Jaskier had to stray much farther from the camp than he would have liked to find dry wood, but he found enough to soon have a small fire crackling merrily. He’d even found some berries he recognized for breakfast. If he foraged now, he wouldn’t eat the much needed rations.

Geralt crawled out of his tent and hummed appreciatively at the fire. That felt good. Jaskier had done something right. Not a burden.

“Look at all this fog, Geralt. Like a blanket don’t you think?” Jaskier said, poking the fire into a better arrangement. “Reminds me of that time we...” He trailed off. Geralt was scowling, face like a thundercloud and eyes like lightening. Jaskier hadn’t seen that much anger on a face since...

The mountain.

Right.

And here he was prattling on right after he told himself he wouldn’t be a burden.

“Well, you remember,” he finished lamely. Did Geralt remember? The fog in the glen, when they’d crawled from their bedrolls into a morning made of clouds? If he did remember, did he remember it fondly? Jaskier had spent most of the day coming up with rhymes for fog and bugging Geralt for his opinions.

Another time he was a nuisance, probably.

Jaskier huddled in on himself, wrapping his worn traveling cloak tighter around his shoulders. The berries really hadn’t been enough, and he wondered if he should have some of the horrible traveler’s loaf from his pack. He decided to save it. If he could wait until lunch, or better yet dinner, the food would last longer. Less of a burden.

He wanted to play his lute, the sexy girl had been languishing for days now, but his fingers were too cold and stiff to play. And he’d annoy Geralt. Even worse, he might wake Ciri from her much-needed sleep.

He pulled his girl out anyway, not to play, but he carefully tended to the strings, plucking each quietly once or twice to check the tension, then he brought out his cloth and carefully waxed and polished the wood.

It wasn’t unusual for a good lute to last twenty years. But twenty years on the road through dust and mud and rain was different. Constant care and an oilskin cover were his saviors. It might not have been worth it for any other instrument, but this was Filavandrel’s lute. Somehow it seemed like the only instrument worthy of singing about the White Wolf.

He put it away.

He didn’t sing about the White Wolf much, since the mountain. He didn’t want to break his own heart again every night, and a low profile had been to his advantage.

Somehow though, it made him sad, and he thought of Professor Fredegar, the master of poetry at Oxenfurt, or he had been.

Fredegar had been an old man. He looked like he’d been made out of parchment and had somehow ingrown his clothes, like a turtle in a shell of thick woolen sweaters. He had been quiet and his hands shook, and Jaskier had liked him. He’d been kind and had wonderful stories to tell if a student came to his dusty office and sat with him a while.

There had always been something sad in the back of those pale eyes, though.

He’d been a great poet, still was, but in his prime he’d written the Saga of the Flame, a trilogy of epic poetry. The stories individually in the saga were well known about the Continent, but the whole tale...

The first part told of a young man, engaged to his blind ady love, but without money for marriage so he traveled to foreign places. Many smaller adventures were had and the first book was pretty jolly.

The second book was him seeking fame along with fortune, and forgetting his lady love for the sake of his pride, wanting someone grander than a blind village girl. Then he lost a battle of wits and was greatly humbled.

The third book found the man stumbling home, getting lost along the way. He returned to his village almost twenty years after he’d left, and his love had died, succumbing alone and uncared for to a return of the illness that had cost her her sight in her youth.

It was a true tragedy, and one that didn’t advertise itself as such until the last moment. It hooked a reader into emotions so deep they could drown. And there was a quality, something heavy in the story, that told Jaskier that at least some of it was real. He would look at Fredagar, sometimes, the way his eyes were so sad and faraway, and think about how the man had written a masterpiece and retired in barely middle age, rarely writing more than a sonnet here and there. There was a harp hung on the wall of pale wood, like that of the man in the saga, but Fredagar never touched it.

And then the man had died. He’d been one hundred and two, according to the chancellor of the university. He was buried by maybe a dozen faculty members and half as many students. And Jaskier had stood there, on that bright summer day at the graveside, and sworn that he wouldn’t live his life inside a university, to be buried and mourned by no family or friends besides some half-grateful students.

Yet, lately, it didn’t seem so bad.

He’d finished Her Sweet Kiss, and it was a true hit. He’d raised the reputation of Geralt, and witcher’s as a whole. Whatever happened, Jaskier’s name would be remembered forever. He could retire. Put Filavandrel’s lute in a glass case in a tiny office and teach ungrateful, hungover brats about meter for the rest of his life. It sounded nice, in a way. To settle down, and leave all thoughts of witchers and monsters and magic and wars behind him.

He couldn’t though. He’d been dragged into this and he’d have to see it through.

His stomach burbled unhappily and he glanced over at Geralt to see if he’d caught it. The witcher was staring at the ground, glowering like he would turn it into ash if he could.

Then he looked up and caught Jaskier’s gaze.

Jaskier was too slow to avoid pale gold irises, but looked away anyway. Geralt crossed to him from around the fire, boots crunching on leaves and frost.

Don’t break my heart again. Jaskier thought. I’m trying.

Geralt placed a hand like an anvil on Jaskier’s shoulder and he looked up.

“Ciri is glad you are here,” Geralt said. Then he continued to Yennefer’s tent to wake them up.

Ciri is glad, Jaskier could read between the lines. I will tolerate you for her sake. She is glad you are here. I am not.

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No! You dumb boy! Geralt means ‘I am very glad you are here but so is Ciri and I’m a grumpy fuck with the emotional intelligence of a mollusk!’

Anyway, here it is at last. Still gets more whumpy before it gets better.

#the witcher #geraskier #adhd Jaskier #ciri deserves two dads #and an awesome witch mom #and she'll get them #but not yet because nobody's good with their emotions

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moonlitceleste · 4 years ago

Text

straight up villain (Villain AU)

This is a songfic based on “Villain” by K/DA ft. Madison Beer and Kim Petras. There’s really no plot to it; I started with a vague idea and just went along with whatever my brain told me. It kinda jumps around and I didn’t proofread this at all, so sorry if it’s confusing!

I’d suggest listening to the song and watching the visualizer video because it’s honestly such a vibe. If I could animate I’d totally make a video full of epic fight scenes, but unfortunately I don’t have that talent learned yet.

This version of the song is a little more chill, so if you find the original too intense you can always listen to the slowed one instead.

On the low Only love myself, no more Take you to the grave, I'll ghost I know I can be so cold In the dark Where I like to keep my heart Know I'm all bite, no bark Like to catch you way off guard

A shiver ran down the crime boss’ spine.

His eyes darted around the room, searching through the darkness.

Shadows flickered. He swore he could see movement in them.

The night was crime’s time to rule; people feared the darkness it brought.

Now, he was the scared one.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“Who’s there?”

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, revealing his false bravado.

Shaking hands gripped the gun around his waist, knuckles turning white with pressure.

Creeeakk.

The man whipped around, heart hammering in his chest.

Who—or what—was lurking in the shadows?

A snap echoed through the air as he fired a round.

Silence.

The only sound came from distant echoes of Gotham’s nightlife and the frantic beating in his throat.

He swore he had seen something sweep out in the corner of his vision, if only for a moment.

Perhaps it was the paranoia.

He slowly lowered his gun, shoulders relaxing—

Only to whip around when he felt a phantom hand brush his shoulder.

A pair of eyes flashed in the darkness, gone the next second, but he knew what he had seen, what he had felt.

Icy fear seized his body, taking hold of his limbs.

Something was watching him.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

“Stop toying around.”

The gravelly voice was met with a cackle, almost cat-like in nature.

That was his only warning before it stepped from the shadows: a creature out of his nightmares, shrouded in darkness like part of the night itself.

Sharpened black claws glinted under the streetlights, and dark black orbs pinned him in place as it slunk forward. He couldn’t move, frozen like a deer in headlights.

The thing was so human-like in shape, but it was too monstrous to be one.

A wicked smile spread across its face, and his face blanched as he caught sight of the fangs protruding from the top.

The creature stalked forward like a predator chasing its prey.

Then, it pounced.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of drеad 'Til you go pow

It was common knowledge within Gotham’s criminal underworld that the Arkham Knight worked alone. He played by his own rules, merciless in his distribution of justice.

But lately, it was rumored that the Knight had an ally.

There was no proof of this, no sightings to go by, but there was a subtle shift that could be felt—an underlying sensation of imminent danger.

Gunfights and confrontations lessened, and the Knight’s enemies started disappearing without a trace. No blood, body, or evidence of struggle could be found; it was as if they had simply ceased to exist.

Whoever this new player was, they were dangerous.

Is it really a surprise if I'm playing with your mind And I treat you likе a prize, then I throw you to the side? And am I really that bad if l love to make you mad? And get happy when you're sad, only care about a bag

Jason shook out his hair, metal helmet in his hands, and leveled a glance at his companion.

“Did you really have to take so long to kill him?”

The two were in one of their few safe houses, recuperating after their long night of fighting.

“It’s the thrill of the chase.”

Marinette, no longer transformed, stated this as if it were obvious—which it was. Jason had been with her long enough to understand her concept of fun. She leaned forward and stretched, looking much like the animal after which her magic ring was themed.

“We can’t waste time playing around. There are more important things to be done,” he growled.

Marinette simply giggled, bounding over to bat her eyes at him with mock innocence.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “You know what you’re doing.”

Her smile grew wicked, arms darting out to wrap around his waist.

“You look so good when you’re mad,” she purred.

Jason leaned down, and their lips met in a kiss.

In control That's how I like it and I'm never letting go, nah Never had a soul (soul) So you ain't taking nothing from me when you go, nah

Crack.

Marinette smirked as her staff made contact with the target’s skull.

Normally she would use Cataclysm for a more swift kill, but the remains were needed in order to send a message to Arkham Knight’s enemies.

They were growing more volatile, more desperate to expose whatever they thought she was.

Phantom Killer, they called her. The name sounded like something out of a badly-written horror movie. Marinette much preferred the one she had already: Reine de L'ombre.

Of course, she didn’t need a title, but Jason had come up with it. She was pleasantly surprised by his naming skills—it meant Shadow Queen, for she was a queen, and Jason her knight, as he put it.

She didn’t feel any remorse as the pile of bodies below her grew. Perhaps this made her soulless, but she didn’t need one anyway.

Marinette had all she wanted right beside her.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“...you do what you gotta do, am I right?”

Marinette nodded at the man standing across from her, a smile on her red-painted lips.

He had been leering at her from across the bar the whole night, and although that was the goal, she was still disgusted. He had to be at least twenty years older than her. Heck, he was old enough to be her dad.

The intel she and Jason had acquired said the businessman had a thing for younger women, which was apparent. According to the same source, the company he ran was also a front for trafficking and drug rings.

Marinette wanted to see him bleed.

“How about we take this to my room?”

The comment was abrupt, and Jason would probably kill her for her indiscretion later, but she was getting tired of the man’s blabbering.

Her hand moved up his arm, the expensive material of his suit cool against her fingers. She bit her lips seductively, which seemed to convince him.

Bingo.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (yeah, yeah) Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

Marinette gritted her teeth as the man tried to reach for her butt again.

She attempted to stop him by saying she wanted to wait until they entered her room, but he was persistent. She couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

As soon as she opened the door to her hotel room, she shoved him inside and up against the wall. He seemed to be expecting a kiss, but she punched him hard. For a crime lord he certainly wasn’t a good fighter. Maybe it was the drugs she slipped into his drink earlier that contributed to his quick defeat.

Marinette cuffed his arms behind his back with a pair she had stashed earlier. She could have waited for the man to undress so she could ensure he didn’t have any weapons, but she had gone through enough torture already. Her eyes didn’t need to see that.

She turned him around, giving him a smile that promised warmth and kindness, before pulling out a dagger and pressing it to his throat.

“Now talk.”

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread 'Til you go pow

“Claws in.”

Marinette’s black suit faded away, revealing her now blood-spattered red dress.

She flopped onto the couch, not bothering to remove her shoes or dirty clothing.

After hours of trying to get information out of the businessman, she only managed to wring a few coded phrases from him. He seemed to only be a figurehead of his shady organization rather than its actual leader.

A Cataclysm later and here she was, back to the drawing board.

“Jay?” Marinette called.

It was unusually quiet in the safe house; usually after solo missions they’d greet one another with a kiss. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Jason?”

Silence.

Marinette huffed. She knew exactly what this was about.

Bang, bang You can do anything No fear, no pain Listen to your brain go Go stupid, go dumb, go stupid and Then we go insane, woah Just do what I say Follow me, I'll lead the way

“Are you jealous?”

Jason whipped his head around, caught off-guard by the appearance of his girlfriend in his doorway. It seemed as if she wasn’t wasting any time.

“I’m not jealous. That guy couldn’t get you if he tried.”

“Then why are you mad?”

His jaw clenched.

He wished he hadn’t agreed to let Marinette extract the information alone; Jason almost wished he was there to see the man in pain.

“He was putting his hands all over you.”

“It was for a mission. Besides, I thought you said he couldn’t get me even if he tried?”

Her last words were said with a lilt, and Jason knew she was riling him up. He couldn’t stay mad, anyway—she had a point.

He deflated and leaned forward to brush his lips against her. Marinette smiled into the kiss, then pulled away. She looked him up and down, a glint in her eyes.

“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you, hmm?”

She paused, then wrinkled her nose.

“After I take a shower. I don’t want this guy’s blood on me any longer.”

Maybe they acted stupid sometimes, but the two always followed one another in the end.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price (Woo-ah) All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain (Yeah) Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (Woo-ah!)

Marinette panted deeply, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A mass of bodies surrounded her, but she wasn’t paying attention. This wasn’t just a battle. It was war.

It was a fight for her life, and she wasn’t going down now.

Reine de L'ombre tore through her enemies like a terrifying force of darkness, one after the other. The Arkham Knight fought by her side, fueled by pure destruction.

Maybe they wouldn’t make it out, but they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread

'Til you go pow

A week later, a couple rose hand-in-hand from the ranks as new rulers of the Gotham Underworld.

Reine de L'ombre and the Arkham Knight—a queen and her king.

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

#maribat #celestewrites #jasonette #cel's fics

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kitsutaes · 4 years ago

Text

strawberry afternoons

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, est. relationship, & a strawberry loving min yoongi

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none

a/n: hi! this is for @bangtanscenery’s event, april showers bring may flowers! i had to change my fic last minute since i’ve been in such a writing slump agh. well, i hope this one’s alright! just something short, fluffy, and warm :-) thank you to the wonderful @sketchguk for looking this over!

summary: in yoongi’s eyes, you were the sweetest strawberry out of the bunch and no one could tell him otherwise.

“Min Yoongi, where are we going?”

Yoongi’s hands grasp yours as he’s tugging you out of your apartment. Your free hand pulling your apartment door shut, you’re letting go of Yoongi’s hand for a bit to lock the door before taking his hand in yours again. Intertwining your fingers, Yoongi huffs at your question, “___, you need to learn when to stop asking questions. C’mon we’re gonna be late.”

You scoff at his response. Late to what exactly? Curiosity was eating you from the inside out. Not necessarily a fan of surprises, you were someone who wanted to know where they were going and what they were doing.

It was 9:30 in the morning when Yoongi called you on the phone, insisting for you to wake up and get dressed with absolutely no explanation whatsoever. Whining over the phone as to why exactly you had to open your eyes and get up, Yoongi hung up on you leaving you to stare at your ceiling in confusion. Nevertheless, you forced yourself to get out of bed and fix yourself up for the love of your boyfriend.

Yoongi arrived at your door a couple hours after he woke you up on the phone. With the baseball cap on his head and looking ever so warm in his favorite sweatshirt, you couldn’t help but smile.

The first time you met Yoongi was at your brother’s wedding. He was Seokjin’s best man—the two becoming best friends in college. Min Yoongi was seated beside you at the wedding reception, dateless, like you. Seeing as you both had no one to talk to and both awkwardly picking at the food on your plates, you summoned all your courage to tap on his shoulder with a small smile gracing your face.

With that one tap on Yoongi’s shoulder, you two ended up bonding over wedding cake and exquisite music taste the both of you actually shared. After Seokjin’s wedding, you would’ve thought that it was the end between you and Yoongi’s wedding connection but you were so wrong.

Before you knew it, you were texting each other until it was 3 AM (having exchanged numbers before the reception had ended), rambling about anything and everything—conversations jumping from which cooking shows you liked to watch on Netflix to why this one album’s songs were all so good. You ended up spending so much of your time with Yoongi as well. Coming over to each other’s apartments, the two of you would just be talking on opposite ends of the couch or watching films together, softly laughing at each other’s lame jokes or watching the figures on the screen intently. Sometimes you’d go to the park, just plainly sitting on a bench doing some people watching. Other times you’d be at this cafe that was near your place, working on whatever your career asked of you with Yoongi doing the same.

It got to the point where Yoongi became your best friend rather than Jin’s.

You weren’t really sure who fell in love first. Maybe it was you, stealing glances at the man who often made your days pleasant; catching his small smiles and chuckles that made your heart melt. Yoongi did what he loved, and you admired him greatly for it. He had this great passion for music, often hearing him play the piano whenever you were over at his place. Despite not showing much at times, you knew Yoongi always meant well. His small actions made up for his loss of words.

But, maybe it was Yoongi. Maybe it was Yoongi who fell in love first. You weren’t the only one stealing glances. He loved to watch you read. Nose scrunches, eyebrow lifts, teary eyes, and all as you turned a page to read another. He loved seeing your eyes brighten up, whether it’d be being able to talk about a book you loved, seeing a puppy when the two of you went to the park, or when you tried something he cooked that ended up being so delicious.

It was Yoongi who asked you out officially.

He had asked you over a dinner at this place you both adored. He took your hand in his, the words leaving his lips while you gaped like a fish out of water.

Your relationship with Yoongi hadn’t changed much, from when you became the best of friends to each other’s significant other. You continued to share music with one another, cook together, debating on who really was the best Avenger out of all. You two continued to share stories on the couch, only instead of being on opposite ends of the couch, you were in each other’s arms. Hands would grasp your own, his arms would wrap themselves around you, and his lips would find their way on your own.

In the car, the only information Yoongi gave you about your mysterious trip was that it would maybe take one or two to arrive at your destination. Although you continued to ask him questions about your trip, pleading him to at least give you a hint—he left it at that, only telling you how much longer it would take to get there.

Instead of continuing to bug your boyfriend to his wits end, you played music instead; some tunes were what brought you and Yoongi together in the first place.

“Do you wanna guess where we’re going?” Yoongi asks, looking at you for a bit before bringing his eyes back to the road. You had left the city around thirty minutes ago, slowly leaving your busy life behind. You hadn’t been able to take a break like this from work in months, always cooped up at home typing on your laptop or at the office, surrounded by the sounds of keyboards tapping, mumbling, and papers printing—always waiting for time to pass by for when Yoongi would be able to bring you a snack or pick you up.

So you were very grateful for this surprise trip, well wherever you were going.

“My best guess would be a beach,” you started, staring out the window, ”but we’re not even really dressed to go to the beach.” The two of you wearing a sweatshirt and a hoodie to the beach, on a still somewhat chilly day. Well then again you could be going to the beach. You remember your parents would take you and Jin on road trips, jamming out to songs from the 80s, and sometimes they’d take you to the beach despite the cold weather. You were able to see some lighthouses and experience the freezing waters of the seas.

Yoongi hums at your response, “Good guess, but no.” He chuckles, catching your nose scrunch as he takes a look at you once again.

This time, instead of asking him to tell you where you were really headed, you’re silent; foot tapping against the floor of the car to the beat of the song playing from the stereo.

“You’re not gonna ask?” With a curious tone, Yoongi’s taking your hand with his free one from your lap. Shaking your head no, “I mean curiosity's killing me, but a surprise is a surprise.”

Yoongi nods, “You’re right, well props to you for trying.” He has a small smile on his face, matching yours as you roll your eyes at him playfully.

“A strawberry farm?” Your eyes light up at the sight of the sign, nearing closer as the sign eventually passes you on the right as you enter the parking grounds. The entire trip took about 3 hours, with the two of you stopping to get some food at this burger joint along the way, plus bits of traffic that had slowed you down. Coming from a bustling city with honking horns and lively streets, this place utterly seemed like a whole different world; and you loved it.

Tranquil and serene skies, this place seemed to calm your heart down. It was as if your worries were washed away and that it was just you and Min Yoongi along with ethereal fields that you hadn’t really seen for years since you moved to the city. It wasn’t like you didn’t travel, because you did; leaving the country to explore another. But it was also easy to forget pleasant places like these your own country had in store.

“You ready?” Yoongi asks, hand on the handle, ready to open the car door.

“Super.” You grin in response, hopping out of the car with your feet hitting the dirt.

Yoongi was soon at your side while you were taking in the scenery. The small farm you were at consisted of agriculture farming tents plus a stand covered in pre-picked berries and only two other cars were parked in the lot beside yours.

“Hi! You two here for some picking?” A lady approaches the two of you as you near the three tents. She was wearing some boots and gloves, previously tending to some of the plants that were still in the flowering stage before she saw the two of you walking towards the tents.

“Yes, we are.” You smile, hands tucked into the pocket of your hoodie. Yoongi stood beside you, placing his car keys in his jeans, taking a look around.

“Then, here you go,” She handed the two of you some red baskets. “You can head over to the first tent, right here.” Pointing to the one on the right. “Just pick as many as you please, then you can pay for it at the end. There’s also a sign inside that’ll tell you how much to pay for each pound you pick.” She explains, giving you and Yoongi a small smile and a nod. The two of you reply with a “Thank you!” before she walked back to where she came from.

“C’mon,” Tugging on your boyfriend’s hand, you lead him to the strawberries the lady told you to go to.

Inside, rows full of strawberries could be seen as you walked in. Ripe red rubies with little green tops, ready to be picked. You and Yoongi split ways, heading to different rows to find only the best strawberries for the two of you to share later. Like busy bees, you and Yoongi scanned the rows, taking a good look at each and every berry.

While you were doing so, every so often he’d check if you were doing alright. He noticed how serious you’d gone, inspecting each strawberry with such laser focus it made Yoongi want to laugh.

In Yoongi’s eyes, you were the sweetest strawberry out of the bunch and no one could tell him otherwise. Some strawberries end up being deceiving, tasting sour although possessing a sweet appearance. But unlike sour strawberries you were actually sweet. Someone with a kind heart and always looked for the best in others. Yoongi knew you deserve a break from working all the time and he was always willing to give it to you.

Looking up, your eyes make contact with Yoongi’s. His eyes held something—a combination of adoration and mirth that brought redness to your own cheeks in embarrassment.

After quite a while of picking, your basket was full of luscious strawberries to the point if you added one more, they’d topple and fall out. “Are you done? If I add any more I think my basket will collapse,” you snort, walking up to your boyfriend with your heavy basket in your arms.

Laughing, you see his basket and it’s the same as yours; overflowing with berries. “Yeah, I’m done too.”

Leaving the tent, you see that time has passed by with a blink of an eye. The cloudless blue sky is now painted with tints of tangerine and honey that look so alluring to the eye.

Side by side, both of you head towards the stall you saw earlier. It was being manned by an older man. He had a grin plastered on his face when he saw you two coming his way.

“Did you two enjoy?” He asked, taking the baskets from your hands. You both nod, “Yeah, it was a pretty great experience.” Yoongi answers while the man begins weighing your combined strawberries.

“That’s good to hear,” He starts, “It’s a shame not a lot of people come by, we got some good strawberries this time around and they’re missing out!” He says with a sigh, now packing your strawberries into a carton and some green plastic berry containers.

“Hopefully we’ll be back soon,” You respond, unaware of the fact Yoongi had paid for all the strawberries. Anyway it was his treat, and it would be no good if you argued with him.

“I hope so too, have a great rest of your day!” He grinned, waving the two of you goodbye as you take the bag with your strawberries.

You did enjoy picking, very much actually. Today ended up being one of your most favorite days, and it was all thanks to Yoongi. Getting back into Yoongi’s car, you let out a sigh. With the bag of strawberries in your lap, you turn to face your boyfriend who’s putting on his seatbelt, unaware of the fact you’re staring at him. As he turns, his eyes meet yours, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Thank you,” You say, kissing his cheek. “I really enjoyed today.”

Yoongi’s cheeks are flushed and his stoic expression melts into one of a bashful smile as you’re looking at him with such endearment that’s evident in your eyes.

“Anything for you, ___.”

#bangtanscenerycollab #bangtanscenery #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #btsbookclub #btsboulangerie #btswriterscollective #hyunglinenetwork #yoonkooknetwork #bts fic #bts fluff #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts imagines #yoongi fluff #yoongi imagine

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iamvegorott · 3 years ago

Text

Written by Shadowkitten:

Here’s my notes for my old Wild West au feel free to comb through it for ideas

outlaw au: Wild West au with dark the Sheriff of a small town and anti the outlaw head of an outlaw gang.

Town

Dark - sheriff

Wilford - deputy

Jackie- rookie who wants to be a law man

Jj - bartender at saloon

Google - runs the bank

Marvin- saloon performer/owner

Yan - works as a waitress in saloon

Bing and bim work at the general store

Edward - town doctor

Host- mayor/ runs an inn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anti- leader of the outlaws

[ anti is the leader of the outlaws, he grew up in outlaw life, orphaned at a young age anti grew up in a traveling band of bandits and swindlers, at 16 a heist went wrong and he got injured with his slashed throat. His old gang left him to die, he was found by chase and a young henrick who saved his life after he heals he stays with henrick and chase whom he finds out are on the run as well. In the years leading up to the story antis gang takes on other members, other runaways and swindlers even some kids. they tried living peaceful for the first few years but after being attacked multiple times by bounty hunters and rival bandits they earned a rather bloody reputation. Anti has killed before he prefers his knives over gunfights, he is skilled in knife throwing. Anti rides a grey and black mustang Named Altair, a wild bratty horse who bucks riders he doesn’t like, he likes anti the best a Robbie second best, he dislikes henrick and disapproves of dark at first.]

Phantom and mare - twin circus runaways who have a flare for the dramatic [ phantom and mare were con artist from the get go, they lived with a traveling circus for the first half of their lives, using the fact of being twins to their advantage phantom and mare would perform sideshow acts as well as main stage shows, the shows would consist of superstitious ‘twinsie’ acts (finishing each other’s thoughts, tricks, appearing to swap items etc) the twins also pickpocketed while they preformed, while one twin kept the crowd entertained, the other worked his way through the crowd snatching coin purses and jewelry. Unfortunately the greedy ringleader demanded most the profit from the performers so the twins were always strapped for cash. One night after earning(and stealing) a small fortune for themselves phantom and mare decided to disobey the ringmaster, almost instantly their money was taken and they were kicked out of the circus with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Angered about the treatment they’d been on the receiving end for the better half of their lives phantom and mare plotted revenge. The twins followed the circus to its next location and waited til nightfall, once they were sure the cost was clear, phantom and mare split up, phantom looted and stole almost all the money the ringmaster had as well as recovered their stolen property while mare poisoned the ringmaster in his sleep. The two then road off on two circus trained horses named ruby and cyclone. They became two notorious outlaws, robbing stagecoaches and bank cars, they had a code to never rob or kill the poor or innocent, but railroads tycoon were neither of those so they were often the twins target. One day they found themselves in a lot of hot water, wounded and running from a bounty hunter, they took a wrong turn and found themselves starring at a dead end below a tall cliff. As the hunter got closer they braced them selves for the end when a shot rang out. Opening their eyes they watched as the bounty hunter dropped dead in front of them. Looking above at the top of the cliff was anti, his pistol drawn and smoking. Soon the twins found themselves surrounded by antis posey, their wounds being tended to by henrick. After hearing their story anti offered them a spot in his band of runaway misfits and they excepted. ]

Phantom is a skilled illusionist and handy with throwing knives, he and anti often trade tricks and have contests between them. Phantom is a smooth talker and a well seasoned trickster he is an expert poker player even tho he cheats every once and a while. Phantoms strongest when mare is by his side

(Phantom rides a redish brown mare named ruby, a cocky horse with circus training, she is one of the fastest of the outlaw horses and the most nimble)

Mare is a gifted gunslinger and trick rider, he’s a fast agile acrobatic person with a gifted singing voice, mare often preformed music for the circus and now sings the best campfire songs. Mare is slightly stronger than phantom often doing more of the dirty work in their partnership but he is no less clever than his twin. He’s hard to catch and crafty in a fight.

He is even stronger with phantom by his side

( mare rides a blue roan mustang named cyclone, a brawny horse with circus training he is an athletic horse known for his jumping tricks and aloof attitude)

Henrick - is the unofficial doctor of the outlaws, [ loosing his parents at a young age henrick was sent to live with his alcoholic uncle, to escape the abuse henrick apprenticed at the local physician’s Office, there he found that he loved to heal people and decided to study medicine, his uncle however made it painfully clear he disapproved and often took his anger out on henrick, one day a man by the name of chase rides into town and gets a job cleaning the barbershop/doctors office, henrick befreinds chase over the corse of a month or so until one day he hears a a rumor that chase is actually a criminal, henrick goes to confront chase but finds him getting ready to leave town, he learns the truth about how chase was falsely accused by his awful ex wife and decides to leave his cruel uncle and continue studding medicine with chase. Henrick rides a white and grey pinto mare named nightingale

She is a fast motherly horse, she can be a great judge of character and very stubborn if she knows something is wrong ]

Mad- a inventor who travels with the outlaws

Chase- looks after the group and the two kids second in command [chase was a rancher who ranched horses and cattle, he had a wife and two kids. His ranch was located is a small western town called dry gulch, thanks to a drought and cattle Rustlers his ranch was going to be reclaimed by the greedy banker of the town and his wife was having an affair with the corrupt sherif, one day while he was tending the cattle his son was injured by one of the bulls and died from his wounds, chase was devastated. Stacy (his wife) blamed him for the sons death, she claimed he was a murder who sent the bull after their son (she wanted to get out of her marriage to him so she could marry the Sheriff) the corrupt Sheriff agreed with her and said for chase to leave by sundown or be arrested for murder. Chase packed his bags and hitched his horse up then road out of town for good, even though he did exactly as the sheriff said the corrupt sheriff put up wanted posters for his arrest. After leaving chase started to hop from town to town taking on what ever work he could find and leaving the moment any news would spread about him would surface. In one of the towns he worked at a barber shop/ local doctors where he met a young henrick who was apprenticing in the medical field and his abusive alcoholic uncle. Chase befriended henrick , helping him with patients and making sure he was safe from the uncles drunken episodes. One day just like the other towns rumors about chase started to spread so he got packed up, right before he left henrick confronted him about the rumors, learned the truth about chase and decided to leave with him to pursue his knowledge and one day become a real doctor.

Chase rides a chestnut appaloosa mustang named whiskey, whiskey is a gentle horse he lets just about anyone ride him but loves chase the most, chase raised whiskey from a colt back on his old ranch.]

Blank and Robbie, two kids they adopted into the group to get them away from a hard life

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dark runs a small town in the western frontier, it’s just a place to pass through but everyone who stays finds it home. Darks reputation as a heartless bounty hunter and Wilford gunfight if skills keeps most the trouble out of town

#submission #shadowkitten #wildwest!au #THIS IS SO MUCH AND I LOVE IT

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magicalmarauder · 5 years ago

Text

Yours

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language, slight suggestive themes

Word Count: 3.2k +

Summary: Usually your boyfriend struggles with insecurity and believing why you would choose to stay with him; however, after a talking to from you in which you explain exactly how special and loved he is, he transforms into your sexy super soldier to ward off potential suitors and claim you for his own.

After checking your makeup one last time, you placed the tiny mirror you had been using back into your clutch as the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival onto the top floor of the Avengers tower for the latest soiree that Tony Stark had arranged. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the next few hours of tedious conversations and lingering stares from random individuals who respected your work as an Avenger enough to come and support the team, but who were still too terrified to actually approach you and strike up a conversation.

It was one of the two main reactions you would usually garner at these types of events: reserved and fearful attention from afar or overly confident assholes who would approach you with the express goal of hooking up with an Avenger to then go brag to their friends about. Either way, these events and the people you had to endure were exhausting. Considering a majority of your time was spent in life or death situations, on your time off, you would really rather just curl up in bed with your beloved boyfriend, laughing at the latest ridiculous reality show and soaking in the sweetness of such peaceful and rare moments.

Speaking of said boyfriend, you craned your head around the crowded rooftop, searching out the super soldier. Your eyes wandered first to the lone corners, suspecting him to be hiding himself away as far from people as possible. If there was anyone who hated these events more than yourself, it was definitely Bucky Barnes. Although the public had come around to the Winter Soldier and his involvement with the Avengers, there was still a certain level of fear and caution that was exercised by most who came in contact with him.

“He’s hanging around the bar with Steve and Sam,” you heard a sudden voice murmur from behind you.

Turning, your eyes focused on none other than the Black Widow herself, dressed to perfection in a stunning blood red dress and sipping on a glass of champagne.

“Thanks, Tasha,” you grinned, receiving a nod in acknowledgement, before she sashayed over to where a larger crowd had congregated together, looking like a shark about to sink its teeth into its prey. Out of all the team, Natasha was probably the one who enjoyed these parties the most, reveling in every opportunity to terrorize the male population and the seedy individuals who often frequented these events.

Shaking your head with a fond smile on your face, you turned in the direction of the bar, preparing to join your boyfriend with the hopes of easing each other’s suffering until you could finally call it a night.

As you drew closer, you finally noticed the gorgeous form of your boyfriend, dressed up in a sexy navy-blue suit paired with a white dress shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing a portion of his toned chest.

Licking your lips, you sidled up next to him, placing a hand on his bicep and placing a sweet peck to his cheek. “Hi there, handsome,” you murmured sweetly before pulling away to gaze up at him.

A beautiful smile lit up his face as he beheld you, an expression that only seemed to arise when you were near. Allowing his eyes to wander up and down your form, he let out a low, slow whistle. “You look incredible, doll,” he complimented, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he remembered that you were his girl and that you were here with him and that more importantly, you would be going home with him at the end of the night. “Most beautiful girl in attendance.”

“Oh, stop,” you chuckled, swatting at his chest playfully and rolling your eyes at the adorable man who never failed to make you swoon. For a man who had undergone intense mind-control for the better part of a century and claimed he had retained no ability to flirt, he sure could turn you into a puddle of goo with just a look and a few words.

“Why, it’s nice to see you too, Y/N,” a sudden voice to your right interrupted. “I’m doing fine, thank you for asking. And I’m looking mighty fine tonight also, not that you noticed or anything.”

Sam sniffed in mock offense, turning his nose up and looking slightly away from you and Bucky. However, despite his peeved stance, he couldn’t hide the mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Of course, how rude of me!” You exclaimed in faux horror. “Why, you look absolutely dashing, my dear Samuel,” you jested with the best English accent that you could possibly muster. “And you, as well, darling Steven,” you continued to the highly amused Captain standing beside Sam.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Bucky cut in, drawing your attention back to him. “No more calling other men dashing or darling.”

“Awe, is the wittle Winter Soldier jeawous?” Sam mocked, imitating a baby voice and drawing a scowl out of Bucky.

“Of course not,” you cut in before your boyfriend could respond. “Because he knows that I only have eyes for him, right baby?” You questioned, wrapping your arms around his torso and blinking sweetly up at him.

A slow smile spread across his face as he gazed down at you, taking in your loving expression and giving you a look full of adoration in return. “Absolutely, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your eager lips.

A gagging sound suddenly interrupted your sweet moment. Turning your head to the side with a raised eyebrow, an obviously disgusted Sam came into view, pretending to choke back vomit. “Save it for the bedroom, you two. No one wants to see that.”

“Sam!” You exclaimed in shock.

“What?” He questioned innocently. “No one wants to see that shit. Especially not me. Cap here agrees with me. Right, Cap?”

“Oh, no. Don’t drag me into your little drama here,” Steve stated, raising his arms up as if in surrender. “I know better than to get in the middle of your bickering.”

“We weren’t bickering,” you corrected. “We were just having a lively conversation, right Sam?”

Sam nodded over-dramatically, killing the illusion of innocence you were trying to create. “Absolutely, Y/N, just a fun back and forth between friends.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Right. I’m going to go greet some of the other guests. Don’t get up to too much trouble now, kids.”

“Yes, dad,” the three of you chorused sarcastically together.

Rolling his eyes one final time, Steve set his drink down on the bar counter and walked away from your little group.

“Well, this was fun,” Sam announced. “But it’s about time I go and search out some female companionship of my own, if you catch my drift,” Sam winked.

Shaking your head at the oversized child in front of you, you waved him away. “Yes, yes, we know what you mean. Just get out of here.”

Throwing one last mischievous grin your way, Sam sauntered off, finally leaving you and Bucky alone.

Turning around in Bucky’s arms, you placed your chin on his chest as he smiled down at you, his grip on your hips tightening. “Finally,” you smiled. “I thought they’d never leave.”

Bucky smirked at you. “Careful there, doll. You’re gonna get me into trouble saying stuff like that and looking the way you do.”

“Maybe I like trouble,” you purred coyly, running your hands up and down his muscular chest.

Bucky sucked in a breath, but couldn’t hide the grin he was sporting.

“You’re the definition of trouble, sweetheart,” Bucky teased affectionately, pinching your side teasingly.

“But you love me anyway,” you sing-songed, a twinkle in your eye as you gazed up at your adoring boyfriend.

“That I do, doll, that I do,” he replied softly before pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

***

About an hour later, the party was in full swing with most of the guests having arrived and already finished a couple rounds of drinks. You and Bucky had split up not too long ago with him going over to talk with Steve and Sam and you spending time catching up with the girls, yet that didn’t stop the two of you from sending flirty little looks to each other every few seconds, something that definitely didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha.

“You two are disgusting,” Natasha grimaced after watching Bucky bite his lip and send you a particularly suggestive look, which consequently sent you into a fit of excited giggles.

Pulling your attention away from your super-hot and distracting boyfriend, you glanced at your friend, red creeping into your cheeks as you realized you and Bucky hadn’t been very discreet with your flirtations.

“What?” You questioned innocently. “He’s just too damn attractive, Natasha. I can’t be held responsible for how I react to that man’s adorable, yet sexy looks.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, used to your fawning over Bucky.

“I happen to think you two are adorable,” Wanda cut in, smiling at you. “You both deserve to be happy, especially after all that you’ve both been through.”

A softer smile appeared on your face as you thought about Bucky and your relationship. When you had first joined the team and met the infamous Winter Soldier, he was like a ghost. Bucky was just a shell of a man. He was simply existing, going through the motions. He wasn’t really living, only allowing himself to be consumed by guilt and self-deprecation. Even once you two had become closer and eventually started dating, Bucky always seemed to hold the attitude that he didn’t deserve anything good in life. He was hesitant around you, waiting for the world to snatch you away like every other good thing in his life. It had taken you so long to drill it into his stubborn skull that he deserved love, possibly more than anyone else, and that you were not going anywhere. Nothing and no-one could take you away from him. And although Bucky had made tons of progress and you were so unbelievably proud of him, you could still see that he struggled with insecurity and self-doubt, mainly when it came to your relationship. It was a bummer and definitely something that the two of you still needed to work on together because although your relationship was so strong in other areas, when it came to that basic trust and confidence in the other persons affection, there was a lack.

It was hard, but it was something that you and Bucky were working on together and you knew the fight would be so worth it. He was worth it. It was only getting him to believe that.

“I’m definitely very lucky,” you finally responded back to Wanda, eyes trained on your boyfriend as he gazed back at you, a look of adoration plastered across his face.

However, that look was short-lived as a young man approached you, pearly white teeth flashing and a charming pick-up line already on the tip of his tongue.

Unfortunately for this guy though, there was only one man that you had eyes for. You quickly, yet politely shooed the man away and eagerly turned your attention back to your boyfriend, hoping that he would give you some sort of signal that he was ready to duck out of this party and return to your shared room for a bit of fun of your own. However, when your gaze turned back to Bucky, his head was down and fists clenched, an unreadable expression marking his face.

Frowning, you searched the area, looking for any indication of what possibly could have upset your boyfriend in the span of a few moments. Finding nothing, you quickly excused yourself from the girls and made your way over to him, hoping to talk and figure out what was wrong.

Carefully, you reached out a hand and grasped his elbow, leaning into him, hoping to offer some comfort. “Hey,” you murmured softly. “You ok?”

Bucky looked down at you, eyes searching yours for answers you didn’t yet know, but desperately wanted to give him. Anything to get that sad expression off his beautiful face.

“Damn, Agent Y/N, you’re a magnet for these young bachelors tonight! We were just telling Bucky that he better watch out. That was, what? The fourth or fifth guy to approach you tonight?”

Suddenly it all clicked. Bucky was insecure. He had seen several men approach you tonight and surely whatever idiotic comments Sam had been making hadn’t helped. But he must have seen how quickly you brushed them off, right? He had to know that you had eyes for him and him alone.

Steve, sensing the seriousness of this moment, grabbed onto Sam’s arm to drag him away and give the two of you some privacy. “Come on, Sam, let’s give these two some peace and quiet.”

You watched as the two soldiers stepped out of hearing range before turning your eyes back toward your boyfriend, frowning at the sad, uncomfortable look on his face.

“Is that what has you upset?” You questioned, wanting confirmation from him before continuing. “Were you upset that those guys approached me tonight? If so, you have to know that I didn’t pay them any mind, Bucky. I’m your girl and your mine. That’s it. I would never even dream of looking at another man.”

“No, I know,” Bucky interjected quickly, not wanting you to doubt his faith in you for even a second. “I know you would never do anything like that, Y/N. Believe me, I know.”

“Then what is it?” You questioned, bringing your hand up to his face to caress his cheek.

Bucky leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly before opening them once again to meet your concerned gaze.

“I just worry sometimes that you’ll see one of these young, good-looking guys and see how much easier it would be with them,” he admitted. “They don’t have a ton of baggage like I do. You could have a much more normal life if you chose one of them,” he swallowed, breaking his gaze and looking out across the room as he continued speaking. “You wouldn’t have to deal with me waking up screaming every other night. You wouldn’t be held back at social events to babysit me and make sure I don’t have a breakdown because of the anxiety. You wouldn’t have to deal with the judgmental stares when you go out in public together.”

Bucky released a slow breath before returning his gaze back to yours. “And there’s so many other reasons,” he sighed. “And I’m so scared that one day you’re going to realize that the hassle isn’t worth it anymore. That I’m not worth it,” he shuddered. “And I couldn’t even blame you if you decided that. You would have absolutely every right to - “

“Ok, that is enough,” you cut him off, voice stern and eyes blazing as you looked your beloved, yet incredibly stupidboyfriend in the eye. “You are not a hassle or a burden or unworthy, or any other ridiculous thing you have convinced yourself that you are. You are nothing but worthy and selfless and brave and kind and wonderful. And I am so, so, sounbelievably lucky to love you and to be loved by you. You have no idea how happy and complete you make me. You seem to think that you were this mess before we met and my life was perfect, but I’ll tell you something Bucky, it wasn’t. My life was empty and it was hollow and it was purposeless. Until I met you. And you completely turned everything around. Suddenly, my life was full of light and love and beauty. And Bucky, baby, that is all because of you,” you cried, pouring your every emotion into your words, hoping that that would convince him of how entirely you meant your words.

You brought your other hand up to his face, so you were now cradling it in both of your hands. Your thumb gently swiped his cheek, clearing away the tears that had fallen at your words.

“My life is infinitely better with you in it,” you stated firmly. “And don’t you dare doubt that for even a second. No one could ever compare to you. I can’t even look at another guy, even if I wanted to, because my heart and head and everything that I am is so consumed by you. Always. Ok?”

Bucky sniffed, tears still pooling in his eyes as he struggled to form words after your little speech. Finally, after realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to form an adequate response to your declaration, he simply nodded. “Ok,” he smiled. “Ok.”

“Ok,” you responded, a small smile appearing on your face. “Good. Now that that’s settled, shall we get out of here?”

Bucky let out a booming laugh, pulling you into his arms and pressing a kiss to your neck. “Yeah, doll, let’s get out of here.”

Grinning, you pulled away; however, before you could say anything more, a young man, wearing what looked like an incredibly expensive suit walked up and tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, beautiful,” he smiled. “Would you care to dance?”

You stared at the man in disbelief, unable to comprehend the boldness of this guy. Clearly, you were here and already taken with somebody. What on earth made him think that this would be an acceptable thing to do? And especially after you had just reassured Bucky. You were afraid that your little speech hadn’t really had time to take and that this incident would send Bucky back into that pit of self-doubt.

However, you were pleasantly surprised when Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist possessively, pulling you closer to his body before placing a lingering kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth.

“Sorry, pal,” Bucky drawled. “She’s got everything she needs right here. Now, get lost,” Bucky commanded before bringing one of his hands behind your head and guiding your mouth to his in a passionate kiss, mouth immediately opening and tongues meeting in a fight for dominance. After a few moments, Bucky pulled away, leaving you breathless.

“Wow,” you finally stated after gaining your composure. “Glad to see my little pep-talk worked.”

Bucky blushed, a bashful smile appearing on his face, a direct contrast to the sexy, suave super soldier who had just grabbed you and claimed his territory in front of every man in attendance at this party.

“Don’t worry,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s waist and gazing up at him. “I found that little display of yours incredibly sexy.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened as he returned your lustful gaze. “I think it’s about time I took you up on that proposition from earlier, doll. Let’s get out of here.” He grinned suggestively.

Face lighting up in excitement, you grabbed his hand and followed him out of the huge room, ready for a night of love and passion in order to remind each other that you were his and he was yours and nothing and no-one could come between you two.

“Let’s.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fic #bucky fluff #bucky angst #marvel #mcu #magicalmarauder #insecure bucky #bucky barnes smut

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jasontoddiefor · 5 years ago

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Title: Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit

Summary: As a rule, Vader did not really do anything with his social media account, but then the rant of some kid from Tatooine about the inefficiency of TIE Fighters began trending, the pilots and engineers on the Devastator started fixing their ships and Vader got invested.

AN: This fanfic is almost 7.000 words long do yourself a favor and go read it on AO3.

“Why are all the engineers tearing through the ships?” Vader asked the officer in charge.

Truthfully, they hadn’t been sent on a campaign lately, but the Emperor liked to whimsically assign Vader and his ship to pointless random battles, so they always had to be prepared to head into combat and couldn’t afford all their Fighters to be in repair. Frankly speaking, most of the TIEs never saw any repairs. They were just scrapped and demolished. He supposed he should be glad his mechanics had enough sense not to start working on all ships simultaneously.

“They are fixing the life support and shielding of the TIEs, my Lord.”

The what.

“The TIE-Fighters don’t have deflector shielding,” Vader stated.

The Head Engineer nodded nervously and stood up straight. Vader hadn’t picked them for nothing. Their predecessor had been a weak sucker-up who had seen it fit to either doesn’t inform Vader about crucial decisions and changes or had bothered him about every little detail. This new one knew how to do their job or at least it had seemed like it up until now.

“We are aware, my Lord. But there was this video explaining how to easily make some changes to the TIEs and I saw it fit to ensure we reduce our damages,” they replied.

“What video?”

The Head Engineer fetched a datapad from the nearest table and searched through a couple files until they opened one, revealing a video. It appeared to have been posted on the holonet one and a half weeks ago and already had an impress number of views and comments. The entire video was several hours long, and had gained a few Reaction Videos as well.

The thumbnail showed a blonde boy, roughly fifteen if Vader were to guess, wearing a half undone overall and a tank top, standing next to a slightly older boy and an assassination droid, a severely damaged TIE-Fighter lying in the sands behind them.

Vader hit play.

The video started, showing the blond boy of before sitting in a makeshift workshop, a pair of goggles lying around his neck.

“Welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting,” the teenager in the video said. He took a sip of water from the metallic canteen he was holding, drinking slow and carefully the way only a desert dweller did. “A couple weeks ago some sleemo commented that I’d never be able to improve any Imperial ships since I’m just Outer Rim trash.”

The boy took another sip, then set his canteen aside to reach for some parts that looked like they belonged to a half-finished droid.

“And I suppose you did have a point that the things I fix won’t ever reach the level of an Imperial TIE because I wouldn’t build such trash in the first place.”

The teenager’s face was fairly blank, but laughter could be heard coming from whoever was behind the camera, likely the other boy.

“So, to prove that I can do better, I sold a lot of speeders, ships and droids, repaired more terrible freighters than I can count, won several totally legal races and placed a couple of very fortunate bets in the palace of Jabba.”

The boy paused, then he smiled widely and, together with his cameraman, yelled “Boonta Eve Classic Champions!”

When he was done laughing, the boy continued talking. “Anyway, the point is, I made a lot of money to buy a lot of trash.”

The screen turned black and when it returned, it showed the image depicted in the thumbnail. The blond boy climbed on top of the TIE and smiled victoriously.

“So in today’s episode, I’m not only going to prove all you disbelievers wrong, I’m also going to drag the entire Tie-Fighter Program through the sarlacc pit. I’m Luke, the man recording is Biggs, my helper over there is HK-77 and this is Scrap Hunting.”

The first few notes of a song start playing and the channel’s logo, two suns overlaid by a speeder, showed up. The Head Engineer proceeded to stop the video, the screen frozen on the image of the boy grinning mischievously.

“He proceeds to begin to completely overhaul the damaged TIE he bought with alarmingly low cost and high efficiency within a few hours and, frankly speaking, embarrasses me. Some of the things Luke does never occurred to me and it should have, I went to one of Coruscant’s best universities-“

They sighed and put the datapad down. “Either way, we are now making changes to our TIEs. I apologize for not having informed you before, my Lord, but I assumed you’d approve of our Fighters being the most advanced on the field.”

The Head Engineer didn’t look like they regretted their decision, but they had obviously resigned themselves to whatever Vader decided their fate would be. They were loyal to Vader and his command. Vader needed people like them on his crew, not more of the Emperor’s spies.

“You presumed correctly,” Vader said. “Finish outfitting the TIEs you already began taking apart. I will watch the video of this Luke and see what exactly he has to say about the military.”

The Head Engineer saluted. “Yes, Sir! I won’t disappoint you!” Then they turned around and marched over to where the others had stopped working to watch their exchange and told them to get back to work.

Vader, meanwhile, took the datapad and returned to his own rooms. He had a video to watch.

Luke had not planned on becoming famous with a video titled Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit. In fact, he had never expected any of his videos to gain the kind of following and attention they had even before that particular one. In all honesty, it had just started with him making a recording of how he fixed vaporators without taking them apart completely so his friend Biggs could do it as well. He’d just posted that on the net and kept going. First about droids, some more rambles about ships and a while back he’d finally been allowed to go to the shipyards on his own to earn some extra cash.

But then he had found HK-77 in a dumping ground. The droid had been severely damaged, but not so much that Luke couldn’t fix it. Assassin droids were intelligent, much more than any other ones and Luke could honestly use some extra hands around the farm and when he was repairing speeders. Biggs had recorded bits of Luke working on the droid, cut it together and uploaded it and people had loved it. His videos got more clicks, he got more subscriptions and here he was now.

Usually, Luke didn’t let comments get to him, but one obviously core-world spoiled bastard had discredited Luke’s skills without having any idea how terrible the Empire’s priced Fighters actually were.

“C’mon,” Biggs said, throwing an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “One last project before I leave for the Academy.”

Luke had also been trying his best to avoid thinking about how much he was going to miss his best friend. He wanted to leave with him – though not to be a common TIE-Fighter pilot, Luke wasn’t suicidal – but he couldn’t leave his family behind when they needed him.

“Alright,” Luke agreed, blushing. “Where are we going to get a TIE, though?”

Turned out that a TIE had crashed a while back and a junk dealer had picked it up. Unfortunately, despite its terrible damages, it was really expensive and Luke didn’t have that kind of money. It took a lot of work to scrap it all together – and he had been grounded for a month after winning the Boonta Eve Classic, but being the second human to ever win after Anakin Skywalker, his own father, had been worth it – but in the end Biggs and Luke had poured their funds together and bought the TIE.

And then the fun had started.

Vader sat down at his desk and pulled up the video again. He skipped to the moment the Head Engineer had stopped the video and hit play.

“Okay, first things first,” Luke said. “TIE’s were not made to be repaired. How do I know?”

Luke crawled into the pilot’s seat and opened the panels beneath it. “Because this is where the Empire would store the hyperdrive navigational systems, theft prevention protocols and life support, if the TIEs had any!”

He disappeared beneath the panels and began taking out the machinery, handing it to the HK-77 droid. Tatooine’s junkyards had always been a treasure chest, but finding C-3PO there had been astonishing. An assassination droid was worth much more than a mere protocol droid. Vader would have to check if the boy talked about how he’d acquired it somewhere.

“What kind of moron designs a ship that doesn’t have that?” Luke spoke up, his voice echoing. “I know who. They’re called Sienar Fleet Systems and go back to the Clone Wars.”

Luke stood up, and placatingly held up his hands. “I know, the Empire also made some pretty cool ships. I won’t lie, I’d kill to get my hands on the schematics on the Devastator, but the security of Kuat Drive Yards is too good.”

Luke paused.

“Not that I’d ever attempt to get a better look on them.”

The video zoomed in on Luke’s face and his frankly speaking terrible poker face in what was supposed be a comedic shot. Not many people would have the guts to admit they’d attempted to slice into KDY’s security and Vader doubted it was idiocy on the boy’s part. The youth was interesting and it became apparent rather quickly that he knew what he was talking about. He would certainly make a good asset to Vader’s crew, should he sign up.

“Point is,” Luke continued. “They cut all these extra measures out to lose weight and mass produce these TIEs with the lowest costs possible. However, even out here on Tatooine we’ve got ships with really small and efficient support systems, so I’ll dig through this mess down here and make some space for life support first.”

Luke then pointed on the rather large box standing next to him. “All I need for that is in this box. I uploaded the schematics to my usual server. It’s free to download, but I’d be very thankful if you could leave me a tip because I am broke until I’ve gotten this project done.”

Vader only skimmed through the next hours as Luke was working on taking the TIE’s insides apart. He explained what he was doing more or less coherently. It was clear he was lacking some of the terminological knowledge needed to describe the precise measures he took, but he was a rather efficient worker.

“Not sure yet if I can get my hands on a hyperdrive that won’t blow up on me, but we’ll see,” Luke said during the last minute of the video. “Theft prevention, however, I can work with.”

The video cut again and by now only the last beams of sunlight were illuminating the sands.

“Check this,” Luke said and pulled back his arm, a hydrospanner in hand, and threw it at full strength at the outer shell of the TIE. Upon impact, the TIE began blaring alarms.

“Nailed it,” Luke declared confidently while the HK-77 next to him gave him a thumbs up and presumably his friend behind the camera, held his thumb up in front of the recording as well.

“And this concludes part one of-“ Luke began to speak, only to be interrupted by a man’s shout.

“LUKE SKY-“

“Oh, shit,” Luke muttered, eyes wide. “Stop recording, Biggs, stop-“

The video ended and a couple of suggestions popped up, all with equally unserious titles such as ‘Killing it with a Murderbot’, ‘Repairing a hyperdrive but your arm is broken and All Stars is playing’ and ‘Garbage Summary of Republic/Imperial Ships’. The most recent upload was titled ‘Status Update: Scrap Hunters vs. Guardians.’

Vader decided to play it.

The channel’s introduction started to play against and soon after there was a recording of the black-haired boy playing.

“Hello, fellow Hunters,” the young man said, smiling widely. “I’m Biggs and unfortunately, I have to do today’s video by myself.”

He closed his eyes and in fake serenity added, “I hope you’ll enjoy it despite the lack of our overly bright mechanic and resident murderbot. Don’t worry, I know you’re all not actually watching this for me.”

Biggs sat still as writing appeared in the upper corner. I’m also just here for Luke. Hit me up at @darkestlight if you feel like it.

“Anyway,” Biggs continued and the writing disappeared. “This short video is just an update on our current situation. First of all, we’re super happy to see that so many people enjoyed our newest video. The next parts will be uploaded as soon as we can get our hands on the items we need, which might take a while given that Luke has been grounded from working on the TIE for the foreseeable future. If you have any questions for him though, feel free to drop him a message @skyseekerpilot, he’s still got access to the holonet.”

From out of the camera’s reach, he pulled a piece of flimsi, showing off the account’s name and a small doodle of what Vader assumed was meant to be Luke.

“Written by yours truly,” Biggs said and set the flimsi aside. “We’re thinking of doing a Q&A in the near future to bridge the time between the actual next update. Feel free to send us any kind of question! That being said, don’t miss us too much!”

The video stopped and Vader almost found himself being disappointed. The youth had certainly talked a lot about unimportant things, it was clear that he was a mere aid to Luke. Perhaps contacting the boy about his ideas would be worth it.

Luke was bored out of his mind. Honestly, he hated being grounded. Nothing new to tinker with, only work and endless hours of chores and browsing the holonet. He supposed he could work a little more on his schematics, but he didn’t really feel like it. Sitting down and actually sketching what he was thinking was always the most difficult part of the process. Most of the time, Luke just knew and could figure out what he had to fix. He worked by instinct alone, but that didn’t really help others so he had to write things down properly.

Annoyed, Luke flopped down on his bed again. He hoped that Biggs at least would be allowed to come over again soon. It was just so boring without anyone around.

“I could get rid of the problem,” HK-77 offered from where it was sitting in the corner.

“No, thank you, Hagekay,” Luke replied. “I guess I’ll just check the ‘net again.”

He took out his datapad and began skimming his usual sites. He watched the video Biggs had uploaded and looked a little though all the comments they’d already gotten. Their channel had really blown up in the past days and a lot of people seemed quite eager about the possibility of a Q&A, already shooting off questions. Luke switched over to his page and saw a steady amount of questions and comments come in. A lot of them were rather personal, but one caught his attention.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick asked:

You pay a great deal of attention to enhancing the pilot’s safety and protection in the events of a crash, but how do you intend to make up for the lesser maneuverability? The added weight will lower the TIE’s speed to 1,112 KPH and in actual combat, the added speed is necessary. If one considers the lack of deflector shields, the TIE becomes much more vulnerable, to a degree that even your additions will not work. I’d like to hear your suggestions as to how you would solve that problem.

Reading the message, Luke began to smile widely. Fighterfan had obviously sat down to do the proper math. Luke, admittedly, had only done some rough calculations but his result had been almost the same and he’d immediately began searching or results.

Easy, he wrote back, grinning like a madman. I add deflector shields and modify a hyperdrive of the Interio Class. ;)

Luke knew that his holonet connection wasn’t exactly the best. There was a reason Biggs was the one who uploaded their content. Sometimes, especially before, during and after sandstorms, Luke could forget doing anything with his datapad. So when he got a reply barely thirty minutes later, he knew that the other person must have replied immediately.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

The Interio Class hyperdrives are slow at best and do not work at all at worst. I take it you intend to break it down so far that it cannot actually do a hyperspace jump but still accelerates much faster than any other engine?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

Exactly!!! :D Should push the speed back up to 1,200 KPH despite the added weight! I’d also suggest changing the wings to bent-wing solar arrays, but I don’t have the materials for that right now :/

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

While the flight controls were designed to be intuitive and easy to learn, very few people would be skilled enough to fly a ship with the modifications you are proposing.

Luke smirked. It would be dangerous indeed, but he’d be able to make it. He’d stretch out his senses, feel the vast expanses of space around him, the million planets and stars and he’d rush right past them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

I could. :)

Vader hadn’t been sure what to expect of his conversation with Luke. The boy certainly proved that he was bright and clever. Not just intelligent, he knew exactly what his modifications would do to the TIE- Fighter. Despite his excessive need to tag emojis onto his every message and add exclamation marks, actually talking about ships to somebody who couldn’t care less about Imperial regulations was almost enjoyable. The boy’s suggestions were refreshing and unorthodox and a few of them even puzzled Vader for a moment until he was able to follow Luke’s train of thought.

Soon he found himself looking forward to the boy’s messages, even if he couldn’t bring himself to care particularly much about the daily life of a teenage moisture farmer. Unfortunately, he had to admit that he was almost a little annoyed Luke was still a child and therefore couldn’t accept a job offer. Well, Vader would simply have to wait a little longer to get his hands on his next Head Engineer. Until then, messaging him while pretending to listen to some Moffs blab away about the Death Star yet again, would have to suffice.

He had learned nothing but patience in the past years.

“Welcome back to Scrap Hunting!” Luke announced excitedly. “As you can see, I have returned to the land of the living!”

“He’s still grounded,” Biggs said next to him. “I’m just allowed to visit now.”

Luke rolled his eyes and lightheartedly punched his friend into his side. “Don’t make fun of me. I was incredibly lonely.”

Biggs smiled and messed up Luke’s hair in return. “Sure, whatever you say. Anyway! We collected a lot of comments in the meanwhile and decided to do the promised Q&A about ourselves. Luke, if you’d do the honors to read the first question.”

“Sure!”

Luke reached for the datapad in front of them and started it up. He spent a few moments scrolling through it, then stopped and began to read out loud. “For Biggs: In the video repairing Hagekay you said that it keeps threatening you. Does it still do that?”

“All the time,” Biggs replied seriously. He raised his hands in a what-can-you-do kind of way and then dropped them again with a sigh. “Literally. I don’t think this droid likes anyone but Luke and the mouse droid keeping the house clean.”

Biggs frowned and looked around as if he were searching for something. “Where is Emmy? It always seems so eager to clean up after me.”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe got lost in Aunt Beru’s closet again, wouldn’t be the first time. Alright, you do the next question.”

Biggs took the datapad from him and moved on to the next inquiry.

“What the kriff is your title song?” Biggs read, then groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Just let it die please.”

Luke on the other hand immediately jumped up in excitement. “Oh! It’s every fifth note of my favorite song so it doesn’t get taken down for copyright reason. I’ll put a link in the description.”

“Question #3: Where do you live?” Luke stared straight ahead into the camera. “Tatooine, Outer Rim desert world. Do not recommend unless you can survive without a lot of water.”

Beside him, Biggs nodded. “Indeed, not the best place to raise your children. Question number four: Could you upload Hagekay’s original programming?”

The two boys looked at each other and finally shook their heads while staring suspiciously at the camera again. “What could you possibly need the programming of an assassin droid for?”

“Next up: How old are you? And how long have you been working on projects like this?”

Luke frowned and turned to Biggs. “Didn’t we say that before once?”

Biggs only shrugged. “No idea, you talk a lot when you’re working.”

“You love to hear me talk,” Luke replied teasingly. “Well, I’m seventeen and Biggs is nineteen. I’ve been doing repairs on droids for as long as I can think. Speeders and ships are new additions.”

“Same for me,” Biggs said. “You can’t grow up in the middle of nowhere running a moisture farm and not be at least a half-decent mechanic. Okay, next question: What was your favorite project so far? Hmm, I think I enjoyed ‘Hagekay vs Emmy with a viroblade’ the most. You?”

Luke chewed on his lip and paused, deeply lost in thought.

“The TIE-Fighter,” he said eventually. “Even if I wasn’t so sure about it at first. That reminds me! I don’t know how many of you have seen the bits of the conversation that aren’t private, but you should seriously check out Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick. The ship modifications he speaks of are the best and a couple of them will definitely end up in the TIE, credit given, of course. When we’re done with this video, I’ll go right back to replying to your thoughts about navigation systems because I totally agree-“

“Alright, alright,” Biggs interrupted, clasping his hand over Luke’s mouth. “Nerd out with your new best friend somewhere I don’t have to see it.”

Luke huffed and, going by the way Biggs quickly pulled his hand away from his mouth and wiped it on his shirt saying “ewww”, had licked it.

“What are you? Five?” Biggs complained.

Luke laughed. “Compared to your mature six? Alright, next question-“

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about a way to solve the take-off issue yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Noooooo (TT^TT). It’s so stupid, why does anyone design a ship that lacks landing gear? I mean, I get it, these were built for space combat but it just seemed unnecessary that you need an extra start up. What do you do when somebody crashed on a planet? Leave them there????

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. TIEs are viewed as expendable, due to their cheap production costs, as are their pilots. The Empire prefers quantity over quality.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That just seems incredibly short-sighted. What kind of person doesn’t go back to save their friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are wrongly presuming that TIE-Fighter pilots have friends.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

So you don’t have any friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh gosh I’m SO SORRY! I didn’t mean that, I just wanted to ask whether you were TIE pilot bc you seem to know the ships so well and I didn’t want to be rude

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I’m sorry!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Super sorry!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Honestly, I didn’t mean to insult you. I apologize, I shouldn’t have said that.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. I was stuck in a briefing and couldn’t reply. You mustn’t worry. I do not have any friends, nor do I want them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off and I’m sorry for overreacting. But you really don’t have any friends? Doesn’t that get lonely? Biggs has been gone barely a couple weeks and I’m already going crazy. I miss him a lot.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are too dependent on him, Luke. You do not need him.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I do! He always had my back, ever since we were small. And even if you don’t want any friends, you can be sure that I will consider you mine. No expectations of course! But I really enjoy talking to you and I have learned so much since we started talking!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have also found our talks to be pleasant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yay!!!!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You wanted to ask me whether I am a TIE-Fighter pilot. I own a TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

WHAT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

REALLY???? THAT’S SO COOL THEY ONLY STARTED MANUFACTURING THEM LAST YEAR. How fast does it accelerate? Are the stabilizers really that improved? No wait tell me about the hyperdrive which did they go with? Does it use a Class 4.0? I would have built in a Class 7.0 but they’re more expensive and hard to really stop correctly if you’re not like a great pilot ooOOOH WAIT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU are flying a TIE/AD!!!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU’RE ACTUALLY IN THE IMPERIAL NAVY. Which ship do you serve on??? Please, please, please tell me about the Destroyers I’ve been wanting to compare them to Republic ships since FOREVER but I couldn’t find any good sources pls I’ll pay in an extra special videos

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Give me a few hours.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU ARE THE BEST!

Vader could not fathom what was wrong with Luke. Nobody wanted to be friends with Darth Vader, certainly he had never given the boy the impression that he was interested in such a relationship? He had merely strived to see what the boy was capable of. He shouldn’t supply the boy with more in-depth plans to his ships and yet he found himself downloading the corresponding schematics. It had been a while since he had been able to carry on a conversation that was actually on his level and engaging as well. Luke was only improving and Vader wanted to keep him. Good personnel was hard to come by and Luke was something different entirely.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have sent you the plans we talked about. Have you ever considered signing up for the Imperial Academy?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yes, but I can’t go this year because my uncle still needs me on the farm :/

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I am able to get you a contract as civilian consultant. You’d be able to work from home.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What? Is that really a thing?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

If you give me your personal data, I’ll send you a contract.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Thank you!! It’s Luke Lars! My ID is T-LL-2187-A23. Also, uploaded a new video for you :D Hope you enjoy my misadventures!

Luke was sitting on his bed, HK-77 standing beside him, holding out various tools while the mouse droid Emmy was sitting in his lap.

“Hello, everybody and welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting! Today is a special compilation dedicated too @thatsaneattrick, who basically gave me an early birthday present. So, sit back and enjoy a compilation of the things we usually cut from our videos! I’m Luke, my helper today is HK-77 and shout out to Biggs who is currently studying a couple of planets away from me!”

The video cut away to start showing the first in a series of rather short escapades featuring at least one member of the trio.

The first video showed Luke working on the TIE’s wings, singing underneath his breath. “This was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to be functional, functional at all.”

The next video depicted Luke working in the background while Biggs and HK-77 were staring intensely at each other, Emmy stuck between them, driving forwards and backwards like they were trying to keep the two from fighting.

“Where did you hide my hydrospanner.”

“I did no such thing, Biggs.”

The recording blurred as Biggs threw himself on HK-77.

It was dark. The camera slowly focused on Emmy attempting to drive up to the TIE fighter but getting stuck because of the sand. Two giggles could be heard.

“We have to help Emmy,” Luke whispered.

“Yes, wait- oh, Em’s gonna fall over-“

The video slowed down as Emmy tragically fell to its side and couldn’t get up again.

“It’s so kriffing clumsy, like a baby,” Biggs laughed.

“It’ll get there someday.”

In white writing, the message Hasn’t Happened Yet showed up.

“Luke, what are you?”

Luke sighed and looked downcast. “A good mechanic?”

“Then why is the TIE’s cockpit smoking?”

“I was just taking a look at the repulsorlift antigravity field- oh, kriff it’s burning.”

“What!?”

Ever since Biggs had left, Luke’s conversations with Fighter became the most fun part of his days. Sometimes, replies took a little longer depending on how busy and far away Fighter was, but their talks never failed to bring a smile to Luke’s face, no matter how standoffish Fighter acted.

Luke checked his messages again, hoping to catch a new message from Fighter. Sadly, none were in his inbox, only something from a stranger.

Lord Vader @ImperialCommand: Consultant Contract

Luke frowned.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about my job offer yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Job offer? You were really serious about that? O.o

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Of course, did you not see the attachment I sent you?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I never got a message with a job offer, so I thought you were joking!!! The only thing I got was a message by some guy pretending to be Vader. Didn’t even bother to open that, who knows what kind of virus I could have caught. -.-‘

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Someone pretended to be Lord Vader? Surely nobody would actually be so ignorant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Idk! I had to go on his holo page and it seemed legit but there’s no way the emperor’s slaver would ever message me I’m not that naive

…

Fighter?

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You would do well not to spread such rebel propaganda anywhere others could find them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Rebel propaganda???

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Do you mean the ‘slaver’ thing?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That’s not propaganda, that’s what Vader is. I know your serve in the Navy, and probably met him once or so. I can’t judge what kind of superior he might be, but his behavior is that of a slaver.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What do you know of slavery, child?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I live on Tatooine, remember? Hutts control everything. And my father was a slave, that’s why I have to go by my uncle’s last name, least of all somebody thinks I’m a runaway just cause my father’s name was ‘Skywalker’.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What was your father’s name.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

His name was Anakin Skywalker, he died towards the end of the last war. Freed himself as a child and became a navigator on a spice freighter. I don’t know much more about him, my aunt and uncle only met him once for my grandmother’s funeral and that’s it. I’m sure he was a good man, though. I just know it.

The boy, Luke, was living Tatooine with his aunt and uncle. Vader had known his last name was Lars, had even seen him mention Owen and Beru multiple times, but he hadn’t made the connection-

Quickly, he pulled up the files he had made on the boy. It said in his documents that he had been adopted by Owen Lars and Beru Whitesun Lars, no mentioning of his biological parents anyway. Vader hadn’t paid any attention to it because it happened often enough on Tatooine. Newborns were smuggled bought out of the slave quarters so they’d get a better life. The boy could be lying, of course, but what would he seek to gain from this ploy?

Anakin Skywalker was dead and everything he had held dear had burned with him, his Master had seen to it.

But hadn’t the boy’s smile reminded him of his dear wife? His excitement for ships, his brilliance- Vader had assumed that some of his stories might have been exaggerated, but maybe he had performed all those death-defying stunts indeed and it was the Force which had saved him.

Luke Skywalker of Tatooine.

It was impossible to think that he had managed to find him through mere interest. The Force must have led him to his son.

His son.

His Master had lied to him, deceived and betrayed him.

Snarling, Vader left his rooms behind and marched towards his personal hanger. He had to go now, reach his son and protect him before the Emperor would diminish his light. Vader would make them pay, all of them, every single person involved in keeping his child from him would be destroyed.

The past weeks had not been particularly interesting or happy for Luke. Ever since his discussion with Fighter, the other man had completely cut their communication. No matter how many messages Luke sent him, he didn’t reply.

He supposed he should have seen it coming. Fighter didn’t say much about his background, but if he was skilled enough to be trusted with a TIE/ad, he had likely grown up on some Imperial Core World, surrounded by the Empire and Vader’s image and didn’t see things the way some Outer Rim kid would. It was too bad that their conversation had stopped. Even if they couldn’t agree on the Empire’s policies, ships were still ships.

He’d miss talking to Fighter.

Luke dragged himself out of his room to go in the kitchen for lunch. He had halfway crossed the homestead when a man in a dark robe hurried down the steps.

“Luke!” He said and threw back his hood, revealing himself as Old Ben Kenobi.

“Oh, hi, Ben! Is everything alright?”

Ben shook his head and a pained expression crossed his face. He looked like he was in a hurry, but Luke could feel the fear lingering in the air.

“We need to go, now,” Ben said hurriedly. “Where are your aunt and uncle?”

“Aunt Beru went into the city and Uncle Owen is out working on the vaporators,” Luke replied slowly.

Ben’s behavior was confusing him. He’d known the older man since he could think. He had never said a thing, but Luke knew he was the one who had made a lot of the model ships now proudly displayed in his room and made sure the Tuskens stayed away from their homestead.

Ben was a nice and kind man, carrying a lot of grief. He was a little strange, but not mad. If he was worried about something, Luke figured he should as well.

“Then there is no time to get them,” Ben said and took Luke’s hand. “We must hurry.”

“Ben, what’s going on?” Luke asked and let himself be pulled along to the homestead’s entrance and out into the sun. “Why are we running?”

“We need to go before he’s here-“ Ben stopped abruptly and stared right ahead.

A black demon stood in some distance from the two of them. He looked like the monsters out of the stories Luke had been told as a child and now knew to be real. Lord Vader.

Ben let go of Luke’s hand and took a step forward, keeping Luke behind him.

“Kenobi.” Vader’s voice was deep, mechanic and artificial. “I have finally found you.”

“So you have, Darth,” Kenobi replied and ignited a lightsaber of a light blue color.

Vader followed suit, his blade an angry red and soon after they were clashing against one another, whirling up the sand. Luke hadn’t known Ben could fight like that, keep every move so fluent despite the ground he was standing on. He met each of Vader’s aggressive strikes with equal strength.

Luke felt like he was suffocating.

He had to stop them, he knew it. He didn’t know why or how, but if he didn’t do anything, the desert would swallow them up.

“What is going on!?” Luke shouted. The two fighters turned to him and it occurred to Luke only then that shouting mid-battle was probably not his smartest move, but what else was he supposed to do.

“You have been deceived all your life, young one,” Vader said. “Kenobi stole you from me, kept you hidden so you wouldn’t inherit your birthright.”

“My birthright,” Luke repeated. “I’m sorry, what are you even talking about.”

“Your father-“

“Was a good man,” Ben interrupted, his words as sharp as a knife. “And you ruined him.”

“You left me to burn!” Vader screamed. “You said you loved me and you left me behind for Sidious to take and remake as he wanted. You took my son from me and let him grow up on the Force-forsaken planet! You stole years from me, months of being unaware of who I was talking to.”

My son, the winds seemed to echo Vader’s words, dancing around Luke’s small frame. The weight behind them almost seemed to push him over.

“Father?” Luke realized. The wind roared in agreement, rushed through Luke’s mind as a barely comprehendible mess acknowledging an impossible truth.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Going on a galactic roadtrip for the foreseeable future! :D

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

(Somebody please get me off this ship they keep glaring at each other it’s so awkward)

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Pros of having parents: You don’t have to pay for lunch Cons of having parents: Lunch is ration bars

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

If not for the laws of this galaxy I’d have a glowing sword to cut through durasteel with

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have adopted 4 more mouse droids to keep our ship clean!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I love discovering I have a godfather who is also a pirate while being held hostage by said godfather. 5/10 experience

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have the power of the Force and Hydrospanners on my side!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Turns out HK-77’s programming was not as thoroughly deleted as I thought. My bad.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

TIE-Fighters still suck. New video tomorrow together with @thatsaneatrick

“Hi!” The video showed a young blond man standing in what appeared to be a huge hanger. He was a little older than he had been in the last video uploaded on the channel.

Next to him sat an older man whose skin was as pale as ash. Many scars covered his face, the only part of his body that was actually visible. The rest was covered by dark robes. The third member of the group was another man with snow-white hair and beard. He sat in a safe distance from the ship behind the other two, reading through a datapad while drinking a cup of tea. All three of them carried lightsabers and it was practically impossible to ignore them.

“Welcome back to another episode of Scrap Hunting!” The blond continued. “I know, it’s been a year but I was pretty busy.”

He glanced at the man beside him and leaned slightly into his side, as if he were seeking comfort.

“Today we’re finally concluding our series ‘Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit’. Unfortunately, the original TIE-Fighter was lost, but Father crashes so many that we could easily start from scratch with a new one. The focus of this episode is finally adding the safety that prevents the twin ion engines from moving an energizer out of alignment so that the recharge systems won’t become ticking time bombs. Henceforth, we dedicate this episode to Darth Sidious, alias Emperor Palpatine. My name is Luke Skywalker. The man in the back is my Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi-“ The old man looked up from his datapad to wave at the camera and then continued on reading “-and my helper today is my Father.”

Luke paused and smiled softly while the scarred man put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. The gesture seemed almost a little possessive, would certainly be like it if the man’s touch weren’t as gentle as a feather.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” the man said, his blue eyes shining as brightly as Luke’s, but much colder in nature. “And I’m coming for you, Sidious.”

The video flashed black, then brightened again, depicting a round emblem of two wings settled around a sword.

#star wars #Luke Skywalker #darth vader #Anakin Skywalker #biggs darklighter #obi wan kenobi #fanfic #memes and vine references

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theawesomeally · 3 years ago

Text

Before We Met (Preview)

Prologue

In a world inhabited by mythic creatures, love was commonplace several millennia ago, though difficult to master. After his training advances over the decades, his powers became obsolete and were largely discarded.

[The camera zooms in on the city and two blazing specks of light dash all over the place as one shoots lasers at the other. We then see an enemy aircraft flying throughout while it's chasing a young man, who is running from the pursuer. We see full closeups of a guy in his craft and Rocky as he runs. The scene freezes after an explosion with Rocky barely missing it.]

[voice over]

Through the years I have been known by many names. Marshmallow, The Furry Lover, The Daredevil, Frisky Two Times and then The amazing Ryan Reynolds. But to most, I am Rocky, the awesome one!

[Some other women, leaning across the wall, and Rocky getting his shades from his pocket. Put it onto his eyes. While he puts his hoodie onto his shoulders. Rocky was dressed like a gentleman, but he fought with honor or dignity and pulled at the knot into his tie. Females are not meant to grab his attention, and if it does. To be fair, he heard most of what he'd said up to this point. The parts that weren't of his interest, anyway.

Okay, maybe that wasn't much]

His sigh is heavy with exasperation,

"Can you keep your dick in your pants at the gala?"

Grab his phone from his pocket, automatically switching it out of Bluetooth mode, and bring his earphone up to his ear.

I will never forget you, Margarita. [The female stops and cringe after hearing the name. His blue prominent eyes were not well adapted to winking. They were rather of the sort that closes solemnly in slumber with majestic effect.

Rocky pretend to consider as Rocky step out of the car and button his tux jacket. "Hmm."

"Nice wheels, sir," the valet says, unconcerned that he was on the phone. Rocky pull out his wallet and flash a fifty-dollar bill. "Take care of her and this is yours."

"Yes, Mr. Rocky."

"I mean, Rosa. Uh...sorry. I think maybe I should go.???." She wrapped her arms over her chest and shook her head with a smirk curved across her face. Rocky grinned and raised an ironical finger in salute Rocky starts backing away. "You can't get away with it." the security guard muttered, holding out one hand. He was moving very slowly, thinking Rocky was the enemy or something. Blinks at her as a farewell, but glance with a smug as he sees the vampire's ring. Mind was so wrapped up in thought that he didn't notice the familiar vampire standing behind him. A vampire with bad breath psycho. "Hey, come on, dickie! You're trashing public property here!" He is thinking about how he had to sneaked up onto the roof and is currently standing a few feet behind him.

Rocky then gently slides the ring off the vampire's finger using his katana.

Light glinted off a myriad of his Katana and the vampire ring. Spray from the dust to blew up into his face, but sweat more than seawater moistened his palms as he gripped the eagle. His eyes were as blue while the vampires eyes were cold as the stormy weather.

"Hey, it's Gale calling," says Rocky called over his shoulder to one nefarious vampire. "Love the shiny suit. Really brings out the sex trafficker in your eyes." Rocky had commented, half jokingly and straight up confident, how that guy would have been considered handsome - if he ever bothered to smile.

Cut to a shot of a cliff.

A grim expression again carved itself into the soldier's face as he gazed up at the jeering vampires, their bodies smeared with blood, upon the cliff tops. Even the most cowardly of tribes in Gaul would fancy its chances from such advantageous ground, one being was mused. The sound of their jeers was occasionally accompanied by the high pitched swish of an arrow, as the odd archer tried his luck. Invariably the missile would zip harmlessly into the sea, or at best a thud could be heard as it struck as a human shield or the solid surface of the earth.

Cut back to the fighting scene. Rocky is skewering a guy with his swords, and kicks the vampire in the chest, sending him back down and puts his sword away. The guy gasp and starts fighting with Rocky. This continues for awhile until Rocky get's away again. Using two fingers he salute the vampire as a goodbye.

Making a soft chuckle. He flicks the vampire ring up into the air. It comes back down and lands into one of the streets, causing his background to explode. The shards of fire fell in slow motion behind him.

He is consumed in the explosion, as his body can be seen flying off the ground, flipping off the camera as it goes. "Oh, fuck." Rocky mutter under his breath. "Oh, I'm sorry." A small apology leaving his lips with a smirk.

"That will teach you, not to mess with me," A familiar voiced ask, up righting his head as he walk over the circles and appeared in front of him,

(narrator)

So, I know what you're thinking. Why is that incredibly handsome guy being chased by a madman with a huge shiny fangs from the Civil War?

[The scene freezes after an explosion sending Rocky flying off the ground from the ground. After the dust settles, leaving Rocky lying unconscious on the ground.]

This guy's got the right idea. Well, to be honest, it feels like I've been the captain of my whole life. Is this too much? Am I going too fast? It's kind of what I do--You know what? Let's back up.

[We see the whole fight going in reverse as well as frames of future clips for a split second each time, one passes as Rocky mimics a rewind sound effect] Cut to close-up of Rocky gets up to his feet. Cut to him sitting on the side of the gable roof at night. Wondering how long it would be before he saw the city again. He had been born with a wandering heart, and he embraced adventure, unafraid to face the dangers often presented by journeys into unknown places. Leaving civilization behind for the wilds of the frozen north, legs dangling over the side as he listens to his Walkman next to him playing 'Shoop.' Rocky was vaguely singing along, making hand gestures along with the lyrics, but he was focused on his own drawing, while listening to the music and coloring a picture with crayons. We see that the picture he's drawing is him shooting the vampire in the head, he was doing it with some crayons he had with him.

It was fun to see that getting shot in the head, even if it was just a crayon drawing. He'd never soon change it to a reality. And then turned his head and stared directly at the camera, or the person reading, or just whoever balls happened to be paying a lot of attention to him.

Wha- Oh! Oh, hello. I know, right? Who's balls did I have to snap to get my very own story? I can't tell you, but it does rhyme with dick. And let me tell you; he's got a nice pair of fucking underwear, he finished in an Swedish accent.

They'd get that joke, right?

Anyway, I got places to be, a kiss in the ass to fix, and - oh! hot weird vampire to kill.

He watched eagerly as the flashes of light began to appear below him – lots of rippers were a very dramatic little shit, after all – we're panning quickly towards the edge of the roof he was sitting on. Now having an appointment to keep, Rocky was quick to get onto edge of the roof and, in one fluid motion, opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman, and the song "Where Evil Grows" by The Poppy Family stays playing in the background as he jumped off the roof, landing in one of the coolest bar in Mystic Falls. It seemed that they had been drinking peacefully, listening to 'Angel of the Morning,' but when Rocky landed and that's when their peaceful night was over.

They look around for which they finally see as Rocky stands at a wooden doorway wearing a cowboy hat, black sunglasses, and red a white hoodie as he opens a music playlist called Tunes of Anarchy on his Walkman. Opens up and the door swings open and the music resumes with people dancing and lights flashing as he goes inside the bar.

Nothing.

Absolutely positively not a fucking thing.

First one person turned, noticing him. Then more followed, until the whole patron was hushed, waiting. Everyone was watching, the same bewildered look on all of their faces. Eyebrows raised and narrowed eyes, etc. God, for months he'd played this moment over and over inside his mind. It most definitely never turned out like this. Whatever this was.

As he walks up to the bar. The room was narrow and about 90 feet deep. Light did manage to worm its way into the establishment, though. It seeped through the windows scattered along the walls, and through the gaps in the door between its wooden panels. A bar on the left at the front, then some upholstered horseshoe benches, then a cluster of freestanding tables on what, on other nights, might have been a dance floor. Then the stage, with the band on it. The band looked as if it had been put together by accident after a misfiling incident at a talent agency. The bass player was a stout old black guy in a suit with a vest. He was plucking away at an upright bass fiddle. The drummer could have been his uncle. He was a big old guy sprawled comfortably behind a small, simple kit. The singer was also a harmonica player and was older than the bass player and younger than the drummer and bigger than either one.

The guitarist was completely different. He was young and white and small. Maybe 20, maybe 5-foot-6, maybe 130 pounds. He had a fancy blue guitar wired to a crisp new amplifier and together the instrument and the electronics made sharp sounds full of space and echoes. The amp must have been turned up to 11. The sound was incredibly loud. It was as if the air in the room was locked solid. It had no more capacity for volume. But the music was good. The three black guys were old pros, and the white kid knew all the notes, and when and how and in what order to play them. He was wearing a red T-shirt and black pants and white tennis shoes. He had a very serious expression on his face. He looked foreign. Maybe Russian.

I watched them for a minute, and then I looked away. My name is Rocky, and once I was the most wanted man, with heavy emphasis on the past tense. I have been out nearly as long as I was in. But old habits die hard. I had stepped into the bar the same way I always step anywhere, which is carefully. One-thirty in the morning. I had ridden the train to West and walked south on Sixth Avenue and made the left turn on San Francisco bar and checked the sidewalks. I wanted music, but not the kind that drives large numbers of patrons outside to smoke.

His attention was taken away from patrons. It was at that point that he saw the young beautiful woman alone at her table, Her name tag read Katy, and her shirt clung tightly around her chest. Her hands worked quickly and gracefully with the bottles as she poured them another and took the empty's away.

I watched her in the gaudy, reflected light, with the music shrieking and pounding all around me. The two guys watched her. Her bodyguard watched her. She watched the guitarist. He was concentrating hard, key changes and choruses, but from time to time he would lift his head and smile, mostly at the glory of being up on the stage, but twice directly at the girl. The first of those smiles was shy, and the second was a little wider.

What met my eyes was a beautiful girl with golden hair and a bright smile that melted my heart. She was blond and blue-eyed, American woman who have a glow, and a smoothness complexion. She lives in New York, singing, listening to a band, and I was in love with her angelic voice. That was clear. There I was, a guy further back in the room, stood in the room staring at her. I was 6ft tall, wide man with a white hoodie and a black leather jacket under a hoodie. She was part of the reason I was here with her back in a city when we were at the age of 19 or less.

It wasn't the kind of glossy place that had a policy about dating rich girls, either for or against. Some call it a gold digger, and I guessed they had looked at her and her minder and made a snap decision against trouble and in favor of tips.

The part of her gaze that wasn't wary was filled with adoration, and it was all aimed in his direction. She was rich. She was alone at a table near the stage and she had a pile of A.T.M fresh twenties in front of her and she was paying for each new bottle with one of them and she wasn't asking for change.

She was a waitress and I loved her.

The woman stood up. She butted the lip of her table with her thighs and shuffled out from behind it and headed for the counter in back. I got there first. The sound from the band howled through it. The ladies' room was halfway down. The men's room was all the way at the end. Rocky leaned on the wall and scanned the room. As Rocky watched her walk in and squeeze through the crowd and she sat down on the bar stool, 1 feet away from him.

"Hey, Raoul, look what this kid dragged in. Oh, wait! That is the guy!," but they didn't hear. Too much noise. He caught them by the elbows, one in each hand. They spun around, as if ready to fight, but then they stopped. Fortunately for him, the first two who approached her were quick to heed her dismissal. She wasn't there to mingle with huge ass in leather jackets. She was just there to grab a drink and relax and pretty sure she made that pretty clear when she shot the first couple of idiots down.

The third guy, however, wasn't ready to take no for an answer.

"How about you let me buy you a drink, sweetheart?"

Their sex appeal eyes pried upon their eyes from the television screen above the bar and looked at the newcomer. With his hair greased back and one-size-too-big biker jacket on, the guy looked like prime wife-beater material. Perfect. Just what they needed to interrupt his evening.

"Thanks, but I'm good," she said curtly, gesturing to the beer bottle in front of her.

"That's it? You're gonna chug that shitty beer and call it a night? Come on, let me get you a real drink."

She scoffed. "What? Like those idiots you got over there?" she glanced past him at the table where he and a couple of his friends had been sitting.

"It's a warm-up. Trust me, honey, we're just getting started over there. You should join us."

She wanted to roll her eyes. "Like I said, I'm good."

She made the move to turn away and focus her attention back on the football game on the television when the guy grabbed her by the arm.

"What the hell's your problem?" This guy gripped her arm tightly, this guy's face practically scrunched up in a beastly snarl. "I don't like to be ignored, y'know?"

She yanked her arm out of his grip and stood up to face him directly. She knew pretty damn well where the conversation was headed and sure as hell were not about to get in a bar fight with their ass glued to the seat.

Before she could open her mouth, a familiar voice spoke up from behind her.

By hearing it and raising their head to turn to his voice, her smile grew a tad wider, recognizing the voice immediately. They simply looked so annoyed, at least much more than usual. His lips pulled into a tight frown, while their eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, back hunched over slightly if you'd look hard enough. Yep, those guys are just being grumpy as usual, but seemingly much more grumpy, except with their eyes laced with the slightest bit of concern. For herself, most likely.

The said person stopped, and looked over their shoulder to the voice. She put on a mellow look close to her usual one. Confrontation- unnecessary confrontation- was not exactly his thing. He tended to avoid fights like these. He could hold his ground better than most, but he preferred to keep out of the brawls and spats that others got involved in.

A voice caught his ear, she sounded like she needed help, despite the overconfident tone the stranger used. "Look, I don't wanna interrupt, but is this guy bothering you?" he looks up at her and says greeted casually, as casual as someone could be hanging for dear life. She looked up at me, startled that he was there. "I'm sorry. Did I scare you up?" he softly asked, when she turned to get a good look at the stranger in his handsome voice. She wasn't expecting the sight she was met with. A pair of piercing blue eyes smiled over her, puffing out her cheeks childishly when she looked at him. After she looked to her right to find Rocky taking his place beside her. Her pinkish lips turned up in a small smile as she ducked her head briefly with a laugh before tucking her hair behind her ear, "No, you did not," she said. He couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice. She turned her head to look at him, catching his gaze with her own. He gave a small smile, stroking her hair softly with his index. "So, What exactly are you doing here?" she said softly, trying to maintain an even tone of voice.

"Oh you know, I was just passing through the neighborhood when I thought I caught a whiff of filthy human garbage coming from this place," he said,

"And sure enough here I am."

Desire pools dark and deadly in his groin. Gaze up at her, releasing her lip. Katy flush a deep crimson in her cheeks, and he runs his index finger down her cheek before handing her the headphones. "I'd like to kiss you, too, but you won't let me down, are you?." Rocky asked her. Besides, he's pulled the straps so tight he can barely move.

Amused smile on his lips, he's wearing his enigmatic half smile. He glances down at her, light blue-gray eyes alive, he glances up when she looks at his way and their eyes lock. And in that brief moment, she was paralyzed, staring at the impossibly handsome man who gazes at her with some unfathomable emotion. His gaze hot, burning into her, as they lost for a moment staring at each other.

It's there in the air between them, that electricity. It's palpable. He can almost taste it, pulsing between them, drawing them together.

"Oh my," she gasps as she basks briefly in the intensity of this visceral, primal attraction. The two men stood back, saying nothing, but looking at him with hard eyes.

Katy had, somehow, stammered out some sort of reply that must have made her look insane. Coby, hearing her, had come over to check on her and had ended up having her go make Rocky's a drink while they chatted. Ever since that first meeting, though, Katy had completely fallen for Rocky. There was something about his smile, or maybe it was his eyes? Whatever it was, it made Katy's entire body feel light as a feather.

To be continued....

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yukiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Magic, not Actually the Same

Thank you so much for the support and patience as always, @xpegasusuniverse! Henry, please, don’t scare them too much!

Summary: There were many kinds of magic throughout the myriad of worlds out there. The graduates from the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad, Lorenz, Annette, Mercedes and Constance still attended some of the mage classes in Askr, but after one particular class, they met Henry...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

__________________________

The Order of Heroes was a place where many people of different backgrounds worked together towards a common goal -- it was their differences that allowed them to form bonds they'd never thought possible back in their original worlds.

Of course, that also meant that Heroes with similar experiences also converged together so as to share and gain new knowledge. There were three of such groups that stood out among the others: The Community of Hatchet-Operating Persons, also known as CHOP; the Hatchet Aspirational Committee of Knowledge, also known as HACK, and; the currently unnamed, self-proclaimed School of Magic that usually took place three times a week at the library.

Though it by no means held a professional curriculum, the School of Magic of Askr was invaluable to the young or aspiring mages due to the amount of older, more experienced mages willing to pass down their knowledge. That was to the point that some students, although already enrolled in another school back in their world after having graduated a known School of Sorcery, made it their routine to participate in these classes.

That was because there was a wide array of magic available in Askr that they had never seen before in their world: some exclusive or rare magic that they would never be able to see again were they to miss this opportunity. So even though they were summoned to Askr while still being students, the young mages who graduated from the Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad took it upon themselves to absorb as much knowledge as they could during their stay.

“Annie, today’s teacher already left; don’t you think we should head back, too? Perhaps to drink a bit of tea with these new pastries?” Mercedes placed a knitted pouch on top of the large table, intent on alluring her best friend with the sweet scent.

… Well, some students took it more seriously than others.

“Mercie… Just a bit more, I just gotta memorize this formula here…” Annette grumbled under her breath, replying mostly out of habit than actually acknowledging her best friend beside her. Once the girl set her sights on a subject, it was hard to pull her out of it.

“I do agree with Mercedes, Annette.” Lorenz got up from his seat beside Annette as a flock of students followed Knoll around to ask questions pertaining to the class. “A tired mind will not make any more progress even if pushed to do so. A relaxing cup of tea with great company will do wonders to soothe your spirit, giving you better focus afterward.”

The young girl grimaced, then pouted. “Buuuut, I just can’t get it to get into my head! It’s ‘magic’, but it’s still so hard to use! What’s up with that?! I thought I’d be able to use a tome as long as I had magical energy, but this- this- huff!” She hit her feet under the table, more intent than ever to understand the puzzle right in front of her.

“Not to fret, little Annette! I, Constance von Nuvelle, will crack this mystery for all of us! There is no impossible magic for one such as I!” Constance got up from her seat with a proud huff -- her style of magic consisted more of experimenting with formulae rather than following their original path, so the power she wielded differed vastly from her peers.

It was because of that that not only Annette but also Mercedes looked up to Constance in a way that made the blonde tilt her nose upwards with inflated pride.

“Really? Will you help me with this, then? Look, I can’t make heads or tails of these-” Annette turned the large tome to Constance, pointing at whatever gibbering was written in the ancient askrian language.

With a glance, Constance was able to tell that she would take weeks to crack that. “W-well, perhaps doing so right away will spoil the fun, so why don’t you lend me this tome…”

“Ohhh, that’s a new kinda hex there!” A chirpy laugh sounded right over Constance’s shoulder, making her jump out of her own skin.

“W-who goes there! How dare you sneak up on a lady like this, young man!” She slapped her fan open as she took a step back, pointing to the white-haired, grinning lad that seemingly appeared in their midst as though through magic.

“Nyaha, you’re even louder than Maribelle! I bet you’d be good friends.” He sneered, then moved his gaze back to the tome on the table. “The name’s Henry! I never really came to these classes ‘cause they didn’t seem fun, but today’s teacher was a dark mage so I wanted to see what cool stuff he had to show us!”

“Hmm,” Lorenz crossed his arms, changing the weight of his body to one leg. “I did notice you simply staring at our teacher without taking any notes, ah, Henry.”

“Mhm! I mean, he didn’t say anything I didn’t know and boy, are the dark arts outdated wherever he came from! They’re still a taboo!” Henry let out a snort, running his thin fingers through the writings on the page. “This here, though? Fun! I’m gonna borrow it after you’re done, Annette, can I?” He raised one eyebrow questioningly, though from his tone of voice it felt either more like a demand or a really funny joke. It was hard to tell.

“Outdated? What’d you mean?” Annette’s eyes shone with the prospect of gaining more knowledge, especially from someone who could understand the strange language in that book.

“Welll,” Henry took his index to his lips as he looked up in thought, “I think not many people died from studying it yet, since he was so careful about telling everyone how dangerous it is and stuff! But it’s fun to research it, look!” He lifted his index overhead, mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath then pointed to the book in front of Annette.

A cold shiver went down their spines as a low, hellish whisper started to come from the very pages of the book.

“W-w-what-what’s going on? A g-ghost? What-” All color left Annette’s face as the voice within the book got louder, though the words were still incomprehensible.

B̵͍͕̹͍̜̭͚̺̪͝͝e̴̛͞҉̢̭͔̙̹̹͉̗̹̰̜̦̹̯̪̣̼̯ ̛̗͉͔̮̗̫̣̠̞͉̗̺͍̪̣̬̕͜͟c̸̰͍̞͞ú͏҉͉͙͕̙̠͇̣͉r̵̶̡̰̯̤̠̙̟̱͎̥̻̥̝͉͚͖͞͞ͅ ̼s̨̫͕̝̟̝̰̞̪̠̠̯͖͕̫̹̼͘e̷͎͓̣͇̤̪̼͞ḑ̶̰͇̰̼͠ ͍͓̝̫͈͈̻̙̟͇̤̫̟!̛́͟҉̼̗̱͖͇̤͞ ͕̲͓̯̗̼̩ ̢̛̞͍̬̱̫̹͎̰͓́̀ ͔̺̮̩̠ ̖̱͙Y̡҉̝͖͍͉͚̺͔̩̪̩̖̣͡ó̧̧̻̣̙͉͘͜ư̛̘̘͔̙̯̜͈̫̥͎̪̠̠̥ ̘̥ ̨̰̥̯͍̥̦̩̀͜͢ẁ͏̯͖̞̮̩͙̯̤̦͚̻͔̲̘̟ͅh̸̗̻̱̩̪̲̪̞̣̯̀͞ơ̶̲͕̘͎̘͕̕̕͠ ҉̵̡̮̗̫̯̤̣͕͖̙͎̩̰d͇̭͚̫͇̜̝͕̠̙̙̘̠̗͇͇̼͙́͟a̛̬̥̠̮͔̖̝̘͉͎͇̙͈͇̖͜ͅr̷͜҉̲͚̮͚̪͉̲̭̘̮̬̯͙̕ę̨̕͟҉̼͎ ̼̯̪̪̞̟͖ ҉̶̡̹̘͎̘̦̭̗͟r҉̥̮̝̭͚͔̟̬̫̦̝̙̖̜̲̙̲̙e̢̙̱̝̞͎̻̗̠͉͓̻͉̗̻͙̤̲͠a̡̧̢̡̪͇̪̝̘̹͇̣̜d̷͝҉̴̞͎͝ ̻̩̰͙͎̥̙̺̜̝̤̗̼ ̛͔̥̼̩͡ţ̀͠͏̵͈ ̗̻̗̤͖̫̥̮͔͖̣̭͖̝̤̥ḩ҉̴̡̮̕ ̰̹͍̱̭̤ ̦̖̱͕͔͕̯i̷̧̢̨̱̬̰͞ͅs̸͚̥͟͢͡ ̼̦̯͍̭̲̩ ̷̵̬͙̗͉̺̠͠b̴͙̜̜̯̬̫̠̬͔o҉̡͔̬͍͉̹͞͝͡ ͔ó̡̨͖̦̰̥̗͙̯̝̙͚̯̕͘ḱ̛̛̰̫̦̼͖͈ ̗͕͍͖̮̱!̨̨̭͕͍͙̤̼

They could barely understand it, but the sound of screeching fingernails, grinding teeth and chains that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time made their hearts grow cold.

… Well, Mercedes’ eyes were glistening as she clasped her hands in wonder, but she was the exception.

“Cool! There’s a curse in the book! Hey, can I keep it now? I wanna see if I can crack it-”

“Hold it right there!” Lorenz slapped Henry’s hand as he had reached out for the book one more. “Explain what you just did, young man! What was this sorcery? And I mean that as being one of the few who actually went to a school of sorcery!”

“I-indeed! This was no normal display of magic. What have you done to achieve such results?” Constance fanned herself to feign coolheadedness.

“Muh? Well, I just hexed it! I did kinda also go to a mage school back in Plegia, if that counts. We’re all dark mages where I’m from!” He replied cheerfully.

“Preposterous. Dark magic used in combat has no such effects!” Lorenz retaliated, pulling the book away from Henry as he did his best to ignore the deathly moaning coming from it. “Hexes? Pagan practices meant to fool the ignorant? I shan’t believe in such schemes!”

“Well, you’re a weird one! You just attended a dark magic class and you don’t believe it? Wow!”

“Why, I’ll have you know-”

“I’d love to show you more complex hexes, but I think Robin and Lissa would get mad at me if anyone died, so I guess I won’t, nyaha!” He said with a smile, though an ominous shadow covered his thin eyes.

“D-died? Hey, wait, am I trying to learn something really dangerous here? I just wanted to know more stuff to be more useful!” Annette shivered, somehow sitting on the opposite side of Mercedes so as to be as far as possible from the moaning book. “Knoll did say it could be dangerous and stuff, but- death? I-I just wanted to help…”

“Huh. You’re not trying to learn magic to kill people? Another weirdo here, huh?” Henry grinned, pointing to the book once more. “Can I have that for a sec? I think if it finishes chanting whatever it started, our heads might explode! Pop!” He made a funny sound with his mouth as the group collectively lost the color on their faces.

“By all means-” Lorenz cleared his throat as he slid the book through the table to Henry, who simply had to touch it for the moaning to stop.

“Okay, uh-huh… Wow! That’s a really old curse. I’m gonna show this to Tharja later, she’s gonna love it.” He forced the book closed with a thump, silencing it once and for all.

“You will have to explain more than that, young man.” Constance tapped her fan on her palm. “I have researched magic more diligently than anyone and I have never heard of such phenomena.”

Henry turned to Constance with a gasp. “Really? Maybe the dark arts haven’t been researched at all in your world? Fun! You’ll get to discover a bunch of things.” He sing-songed as he held the large tome close to his chest. “But everything Knoll said today was true! There’s always a price to pay after using dark magic, and even greater prices if you wanna curse someone. Back then, people sacrificed other people for everything! Want to get your loved one? Plop, kill your neighbor for it! Want tomorrow to be sunny? Plop again, another neighbor dead! It must’ve been a bloodbath, nyaha!”

“Oh, goodness. Are you alright, Henry? Have you seen such things yourself?” Mercedes looked up to the strange boy, feeling compassion towards the smile he never erased.

“Mee?” He pointed to himself before his smile grew dangerously large. “Of course I saw it, silly! I slaughtered everyone in the village for killing my only family! I was sent to the mage school right away, so I got to know a bunch of other ways to kill people, too. It’s fun! You all should try it sometime.”

After saying that, he did a short bow just like how Robin taught him and bid them farewell. “I really gotta read this, so see you all next class! It’s gonna be lots of fun!”

Annette gripped at Mercedes’ sleeve to stop her own body from trembling. Constance and Lorenz frowned deeply, suddenly uncomfortable inside their own skins. Mercedes held her hands up in prayer, worried for the darkness inside that boy’s heart.

“Hey, Mercie…”

“Yes, Annie?”

“I kinda don’t wanna learn this anymore…”

The four of them exchanged glances before nodding solemnly, silently vowing to never attend a dark mage’s class ever again.

#my writings #feh #fe3h #fe13 #yuki's commissions

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professordrarry · 4 years ago

Note

For the drarry prompts: I'm always partial to magical houses acting up and curse-breaker Draco, so maybe Harry innocently buying an old estate/an old house and needing someone to deal with the house trying to murder him, and the best in the field happens to be Draco, but he has to do it in a very involved way so he has to stay at the house and also involve Harry in the process a lot? (Like re-taming an abused/half-wild horse, basically, gaining its trust) Cue gentle badass Draco

MAN O MAN NONNIE. I wish I knew who you were! This sat for sooo long. I am torn on this one. Do I give more information by continuing? Do I stop here!? We shall see...We. Shall. See. PS - not much soft Draco, which I apologise for because soft Draco is my fave. I don’t know. I got carried away with evil house and then nothing else stuck.>>>

As much as he loathed it, Harry could not abandon this old house. The emotion was difficult to place, the reasoning always lying just beyond his grasp. He'd not experienced this kind of attachment to Grimmauld Place. Likely because he'd been involved in that place's misery, it's particular brand of horror. Still, despite all their problems and pains, Harry only really felt safe in old places.

Until you've stood in a four-hundred-year-old house, on thousand-year-old property, you don't comprehend what it is to see a set of walls that live. The truth behind the sigh and creak of the old timber is decades of longing. There were several pounds of tears crusted into floorboards, many decades of loving dances and spilt drinks, hours of hurried cooking or planning or praying, playing children, and years of dust composed of every season. These things added weight to a place, grounded it to the earth. New flats or preformed houses sat pregnant with promise, smelling of the wish to be inhabited.

They were flimsy as a result.

He liked to pace the corridors and many-windowed rooms of the estate as often as he could. It was a pastime he managed frequently since he'd stopped leaving all that often. The word 'estate' was unnecessarily grand for the building he'd acquired. Sure, it had a stable and a ballroom but it was only one of each. When he'd first started looking, the realtors had tried to sell him homes with rooms for every possible activity. Pool halls and indoor pools. Evening ballrooms and morning rooms. Rooms for Grand Pianos and others for statues only. Stables for full-sized horses and another for ponies. They would insist that the homes were places for him to grow into, as though he would be starting a small country rather than a family.

The house reeked of history, but not the way Hogwarts did. It had goodness and badness in equal measure, but not the way Grimmauld did. It was uniquely it’s own.

And if, every once in awhile, Harry caught himself in the middle of the night, stood in front of the second story window unsure of how he got there? What of it? He'd always had strange nightmares. So what if gas leaked in places where gas had never been connected, or if fires he had not lit got slightly out of hand. His house was his own and he loved it.

Which is why he was currently hiding in the attic. It wasn't exactly a sensible solution to any of his current problems, but it was an actually hidden place. No one knew it was here because it wasn't on any schematic or blueprint that he'd ever seen.

Of course, "no one" was currently looking for him, as well, but he'd turned up his cd player and let music drown out footsteps and creaking and crashes.

It had been a week of nine-to-five intrusion and he was with the house on how much he was enjoying it. Hermione's recommendation of Malfoy had no purpose other than securing her ability to wash his hands of what they'd decided to call the 'killer house problem'.

"Harry?" a tentative voice said behind him. The fact that it had happened in the song break of the extremely loud punk cd he'd chosen was not outside his realisation.

"Harry, you need to come down now."

"Fuck off."

"We both know I'd rather do that, but I need you to come to the first floor."

"And why is that," Harry glowered.

He turned to look at Draco, who was standing at the top of a rickety ladder, the one Harry had definitely forgotten to pull back up behind him. Why had he forgotten that? Had he…had he been here long? He shook his head and tried to release the cobwebs that had suddenly appeared.

"Well, first," Draco said gently. "The house is starting to get angry."

"At you," Harry hissed.

"No, at people. At magic. It doesn't want us here. Please. Come down. I'll explain when we get outside."

Harry glared as hard as he could. Beneath him, the subfloor boards shook slightly. His magic was humming. It was getting away from him. That hadn't happened in years.

"Why should I go anywhere with you. Leave me to die, if that's what you're worried about. You've never cared before."

"Harry," Draco sighed. "Please. It's been so long. We need to both move on."

Harry's magic flared visibly, a swirl of blue and black, flecked with gold and red, wild and nearly solid in its white-hot heat. Draco ducked instinctively.

"You call a year a long time. You abandon me, leave me to pick up the pieces and you want me to move on."

"Fine," Draco said gently, angering Harry even further in his quiet relinquishing of control. "Fine. No. Not move on. But can you come yell at me on the lawn?

"Why?!" Harry howled.

"Because it's going to take longer for you to kill me than this house is going to give you."

As if to prove his point, the house shuddered beneath their feet, a subtle heat that grew slowly under Harry's thighs making him uncomfortable and afraid.

Afraid.

How long had it been since he'd felt afraid?

He stood. Nodded. Shoved Draco off the ladder, toppling him down five rungs and flat into his backside.

"You have five minutes to explain," he spat as he marched past Draco's prone form.

#Drarry #Cw horror #Like not really but I know what my own limits are #And there are hints of darkness that could be used to make a horror story #Just for safety #Curse breaker Draco #Harry Potter is a clueless lump #And maybe a little heartbroken but who knows

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream III

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 4, 559

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything; It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i... she feels… (Read below or on the AO3 link on the chapter title.)

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Anything

Maybe I should kill my inhibition

Maybe I'll be perfect in a new dimension

On the Saturday the week after Barry’s impromptu visit, Iris finds herself down on Main Street about half an hour after 10 in the morning. Nearly the entire 8 blocks of the street are sectioned off, with a plethora of white tents set up on both sides of the street. She glances on as she makes her way down the sidewalk, as people set up books and jewelry and clothes; beer and wine and harder liquor; food and sweets and other treats.

It’s the setup for Central City’s Fall Fest, one of a multitude of fests in the city that Iris calls home. It’ll be open to the public in a few hours and, like usual, Iris will make her way up and down the blocks a few times, holding a beer in one hand and something fried on a stick in the other, a couple of bags filled with things she doesn’t need in the crook of her elbow.

Now, though, she steps into the alley that leads to the side door of Golden’s, an Asian and American fusion restaurant and bar owned by the parents of her best friend, Linda Park. She gives a heavy-handed couple of knocks and only moments later, Linda opens the door to let her in.

Iris first met the other women when they were in the 7th grade. Iris’s parents had divorced several months prior to a new school year and for reasons not then known to Iris, her dad had gotten full custody of her and six-year-old Wally. They’d moved into a new house on the other side of town and that had meant a new school for her. Linda had sat beside her in their homeroom/advisory class and the girl with beige skin and long dark brown hair was constantly scribbling something in a notebook. Iris had discovered that they’d been stories, usually with families as the starring characters. By then, Iris had begun to write in her own notebook—musings and wonderings about the neighbors she’d just met, about what it meant to be the oldest child of divorced parents. They’d bonded over their writing; well, that and being two of only a handful of girls at the school with skin darker than the pale and spray-tanned skin of their classmates.

For over a decade, it’s been Iris and Linda. Through the messy stages of puberty and their even messier interactions with high school boys; through late-night study binges and even worse interactions with college boys. Through the drug addiction that took Iris’s mom and the car crash that had put Linda’s older brother on life support until he’d succumbed to his own injuries, they’ve navigated it all together.

Now, life gets in the way. Linda, almost immediately after undergrad graduation, had begun shopping around a number of short stories and personal essays she had written until, finally, a publisher had bit and opted to publish them as an anthology. A few years and too many nights spent locked in a room later and Linda’s book is a New York Times bestseller. Iris’s own success story is pending. In addition to completing her graduate degree (which, at 26, she’d started late, after taking some time off and working at a local newspaper), she runs a blog, one she’d started by accident. Her middle school musings had become pointed interviews and, with the classes she’d taken in college, had gotten the necessary skills to begin writing up her own human interest stories. It’s amazing, she’s learned, what people will tell you when they can hide behind the face of someone else. What a Life You’ve Lived is growing in popularity, making some money too, and it’s starting to become more than just a hobby for Iris.

Neither Iris nor Linda is ever truly free; but in a concentrated effort to make time, they brunch at least twice a month. This morning, it’s at Golden’s (where Linda is working as a bartender while she writes her next book) because her parents want them to try out new menu items. When the door shuts behind them, Linda turns and gives Iris a hug, wrapping her arms around her neck. Iris returns it, smiling into her hair, her familiar lavender scent a warm comfort she didn’t know she needed.

“I’ve missed your beautiful face,” Linda says, squeezing her hard once before letting her go.

“Yeah?” Iris asks, mouth lifting in a smirk. “Is it because you’re tired of looking at Daniel’s beautiful face?”

Linda rolls her eyes. “Never, though I’d rather put my eye out before I tell him that.”

Linda has been dating her boyfriend Daniel Ngyuen, nerdy engineer and man ridiculously head over heels for her, for a few months, after they met at a book signing hosted by Linda’s parents.

“You’re ridiculous,” Iris tells her, and Linda preens in response.

Something in Iris tightens, a faint film of green clouding her view for all of a millisecond. She’s ashamed she even had the thought, that she feels anything but happiness at the light in her friend’s chocolate brown eyes or the glow in her cheeks. She’s not jealous of Linda, of course she’s not. But Iris can’t help but find some envy at the feeling of contentment that so obviously surrounds her friend and the juxtaposition of her own drifting existence.

It’s almost tangible, these differences, at least to her. Iris can see the confidence practically emanating from Linda’s dress-clad form, the long-sleeved maxi dress and tall sandals, her wavy shoulder-length hair, making her look a little like a goddess. But Iris imagines that’s what it must look like, to be at the start of a career you’ve always wanted, to have the love of a man you’re secure in, to just...know your place, your purpose.

And maybe Iris is being dramatic. She supposes she looks as put together as she’s always thought she needed to be in her light denim jeans, pale pink cropped sweater, and tan block-heeled sandals. She’s been wearing her natural hair out this week and the wavy curls are piled up in an artfully messy bun. Still, even if Iris can’t touch on why she feels so scattered, like all of the pieces that make up the whole of her are floating aimlessly around her body, she cannot deny that the feeling is there, taking up space in her head like the songs she latches on to keep focused, maybe I should pray a little harder, or work a little smarter.

They walk through the restaurant, bustling with the waitstaff preparing for the 11 am opening. Golden’s isn’t an overly large place, only able to fit about 50 people at a time, but Iris thinks it’s a part of the charm. It’s decorated in dark brown wood and bright white and gold light fixtures; the tables and booths are spread out in a way that allows for privacy, making customers feel as if they’re in their own little worlds.

Linda leads them to their usual table, one actually tucked into a little alcove where only the Parks and their guests are allowed to sit. At the table, there’s already a carafe of juice too close to red-pink to be orange juice, along with a bottle of champagne. Outside of the wine and marijuana Friday nights and the occasional party or club, Iris only really indulges in alcohol when she and Linda have these brunches. They slide into the booth and Linda immediately reaches for the champagne.

Over the next couple of hours, Iris is reminded of why, regardless of her own issues, she loves his woman. They laugh, sharing stories of Iris’s students and the customers who come into Golden’s. They get on each other’s nerves, making jokes and ribbing the other any chance they get. At one point, Linda’s parents come out, her honey-skinned Chinese mother Xuan and her dad Theo, Chinese and white with skin like baked sugar cookies, and Iris blinks adoringly up at the both of them, always lost in their beauty—both tall and elegant with ridiculous cheekbones.

“It’s sickening,” Linda mutters as she watches Iris watch them walk away, “how you look at them.”

“I’ve had a crush on your parents for as long as I’ve known them,” Iris replies. “If they ever want a thre-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking statement,” Linda gripes and Iris howls in laughter until Linda points out the attractiveness of Iris’s own father. “You know I’d always hop on the chance to be your stepmom.”

“And I’d happily sabotage your wedding day.”

“But it’d be worth it when I got to climb on top of Daddy West during the honeymoon.”

Iris throws a strawberry at her.

She hears him before she sees him. She’s been at Fall Fest for only about twenty minutes after leaving Golden’s, full and tipsy, walking through the steadily filling streets. Of all of the festivals in Central City, of which there are several (seasonal fests like the Fall and Spring fests; food fests like the Food Truck and Italian Food fests; cultural fests like the Juneteenth and Hispanic Heritage fests), the Fall Fest is one of her favorites. It’s during the best time of the year, when the sun is still blazing but the wind cuts through the heat. When the leaves have begun to drift off trees and dance onto the ground, changing into the shades of yellow and orange and red that only nature can paint. When the booths run the gamut in what they sell, from cooked and packaged foodstuffs, to clothes and jewelry, to dance or golf lessons. It’s the one festival, besides the Pan-African Celebration, that their entire family would attend, even for a few years after the divorce. Her parents would take off work and put aside their differences to spend time together--until Wally had felt too old and her dad had needed too many more work hours and her mom had gotten too lost; and then Iris had started coming with Linda and then, this year, alone.

But she doesn’t dwell—she tries not to dwell these days—and besides, she’s just heard him.

He doesn’t sound any different in the light of the day. In her head, she keeps hearing him as he is in the throes of passion, when his voice is more of a throaty curse, when it’s a rumble against her heated flesh. Here, out here with children screaming from their blocked-off sections and ladies laughing as they smell through candle selections and men arguing from the faux sports bars set up at random tents, he should sound like anyone else. He shouldn’t even be heard over the music coming from the speakers they can’t see—down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; do do do down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; i hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will—or the sheer noise that’s true for events like this. But he is.

She looks up, ignoring the woman still trying to convince her to buy a bottle or three of perfume, and she sees him, right at the booth beside hers. He’s with two other men, one shorter with light brown skin and dark brown eyes and black hair pulled back in a ponytail; the other only a bit taller than the friend, with skin darker than Iris’s, glasses, and a short afro. Iris vaguely thinks that the three of them together are some sort of setup for a bar joke. They’re dressed similarly, in pants and t-shirts, though Iris’s eyes catch onto Barry’s hunter green chinos and white shirt, the beige pocket square matching his desert boots. All three of them have relatively full beers in their hands and Iris is looking at the cup in Barry’s hand (or rather, his fingers wrapped around the cup) for about three seconds before it jerks, beer spilling out. She looks up to find he’s looking back at her too, muttering “Iris,” in surprise.

She watches her hand and smiles back at him, a bit awkwardly, stepping away from the booth where the woman has already moved on to a new customer.

“Hi Barry,” she responds, walking over to them. She spares a glance at the other two, the Black man looking at her curiously, the Latino man a bit more humorously. “Fancy seeing you here.”

It’s not her smoothest line, but Iris thinks she might be in shock. When he’d left her, again, before she woke up on Saturday morning, she’d found his number written in tiny handwriting on the notepad on her desk, the unimaginative “call me” scribbled beneath it. She hadn’t. She’d thought about; oh had she.

On Monday, she’d debated calling him up to grab a coffee during her break. On Wednesday, she’d gotten an email about a new story and she’d wondered, for a moment, what he might think about it. But then she’d thought of his sweet mouth telling her “I wanted to know if it was as good as my memory,” and she had decided that he likely wouldn’t care about her days.

Now, he gives her a thorough once-over, probably remembering, and Iris feels a flush of heat run through her that she knows has very little to do with the warm late September sun.

“Iris,” he says again, his voice a touch higher than normal. His companions look at each other, eyebrows raised.

“Iris,” the long-haired one repeats, laughter coloring his tone. “I’m Cisco.”

“And I’m Chester,” says the one with dark skin, and they both stand there looking at her, grinning like loons until Barry cuts in.

“Alright, stop being weird.”

They don’t. Barry rolls his eyes and pushes past them to stand in front of her. Even with the heels she’s wearing, she has to stretch her neck a little to look up at him.

“Hey,” he says, this time lower, a soft breeze on her skin.

“Hi,” she repeats, just as softly.

The sounds of the carnival don’t disappear so much as they become muted, such as if she were submerged in water or if there was a rushing in her ears, because everything becomes background noise save for the concentrated sound of his voice.

“You didn’t call,” he says to her.

“I—” she starts, but she’s got nothing to say, not anything that won’t make her sound needy or desperate.

“Hey Barry,” Cisco calls.

“Yeah?” Barry answers, but he doesn’t turn away from her. No, he’s looking at her still, assessing her almost. He’s trying to figure something out, she decides, or at least that’s how it seems, what with the way he stares so intently, blue-green eyes pouring into her, bringing up images of them staring up at her from between her thighs, bringing out impressions that feel like more than lust, like more than just two people who’ve only ever bared their bodies to each other.

“We’re gonna go to another tent,” Chester says. “Catch up with you later.”

“Alright,” is the reply, those eyes glittering like the sea in the afternoon sun, still fixed on her. There’s a slight frown to his mouth, and when he speaks again, she can’t tell if he’s reached his conclusion or not.

“Walk with me?”

She nods before she even thinks about it. “Sure.”

They start back down the path. The booths are in abundance this year; it’s a bigger festival than she’s seen before. For a while, they don’t talk. They walk side by side, arms brushing every so often, stopping at booths that catch their attention. For him is a booth with a variety of multi-piece puzzles, some featuring landscapes and gardens, others of the solar system or space. For her, it’s one selling notebooks, beautiful leather-bound journals. She stops, enthralled, picking up one in coral-colored leather with rose-gold edging.

“We can also engrave the name,” the sun-tanned woman with pale blonde hair behind the tent says. “Or you can order custom colors.”

Iris nods, murmurs, “these are really nice,” and continues flipping through the heavy cream paper in the coral notebook. These days, much of her writing gets done on her overused Macbook; it’s just easier that way. But when she writes, for herself—little anecdotes about her day, her feelings spelled out in poetry—she does so in notebooks like these.

“You’re a writer,” Barry wonders and it’s a statement as much as it’s a question.

“Yeah.” She looks up at him and nods. “I’m actually getting my master’s in journalism.”

She puts the journal down once she notes the $40 price tag and thanks the woman as they walk off, Iris looking back at the notebook with longing.

“I also run a blog,” she tells him, and the words tumbling out of her mouth are a shock.

“Really?” he looks at her in surprise. “What’s the site? Is it popular?”

It’s not like she’s embarrassed of her blog or anything, but it feels different, to tell people she knows about her work. Because it’s one thing for strangers to read what she types out in earnest, and in tears and in vulnerability, but it’s something altogether different for people she knows to do the same. They aren’t her stories, not actually, but they are always her words, always her emotions she puts into them, and it feels too, too telling somehow.

“It’s growing in popularity,” she tells him, because she’s the one who opened this can of worms. “It’s called What a Life You’ve Lived.”

He hums, like that means something to him, but before she can ask what, two kids come barreling through the aisle. Iris tries to step out of the way and she slips, her heel catching in a small crack in the asphalt. Her knees buckle, but before she can hit the ground, Barry’s arms are around her. One of his large hands holds onto her, pressed against the bare skin of her belly, and then she’s pressed fully against him.

It’s absurd how much she likes the feel of him—the slim but corded muscles in his arms, the apparent strength in his fingers; and she likes the smell of him too, the faint hint of his laundry detergent mixed with the heat of the sun mixed with the citrus of his cologne. It’s another moment (™), which doesn’t make sense because he’s only just caught her from falling. But he’s looking at her like there is more in her gaze besides the brown of her irises, the flutter of her lashes. It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i...she feels…

“Are you alright?”

Barry’s voice is quiet, too quiet for the energy they’re surrounded by. And maybe she doesn’t even hear it as she does read the movement of his pink mouth.

“Yeah, I am.”

He straightens, then, and gives her a half-smile. “You know, Iris, if you wanted to fall all over me, you could have just called.”

He likely had been trying for levity, but it’s pointed, right there at the end. She steps away from him and he lets her, his fingers sliding along the small of her back until they’re no longer on her skin. It leaves her cold

(only that can’t be true, because it’s far too warm out)

and she watches as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“I was waiting on your call, Iris.”

They've moved into a corner where the direction of the festival booths turn right. Straight ahead of them is a 21+ section; it features a stage where performances will begin around 5 as well as a number of makeshift bar stations. There’s a similar set-up with kid-friendly activities on the other side of the festival. Barry’s friends are standing at one of the bar stations talking to two women, both with chestnut-brown skin and long kinky hair. Iris’s eyes shift to take in the rest of her surroundings, to the sound of people laughing and the couples holding hands and the families who seem elated to be together on a day like today.

When she turns back, Barry is patiently watching her, head tilted to the side, expression thoughtful, like it always tends to be.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Barry suggests “We can walk around some more. And once we get sun-tired, I can take you to this spot that I like nearby and we can talk. Maybe about why you didn’t call.”

She licks her lips, pulls the bottom one between her teeth. She hedges, long enough to tell herself that this would be a foolish endeavor, that she should just say no, that he’s nice and cute and what harm would it do. But, really, when he asks, those cyan eyes gleaming and his cheeks faintly pink and his face so goddamn hopeful it almost makes her look away, she really has no other choice.

“Okay, sure.”

She doesn’t tell him why she doesn’t call.

What she does is tell him about her dad and how she’s always been in awe of him, of his grace and his strength and the lessons he’d taught her. She tells him about Wally, who’s brilliant and searching, trying to figure out his way (not unlike her, though this she doesn’t say). She tells him about Linda, her sister in all of the ways that count, who’s always with her, even when she isn’t. And when he asks, because of course he does, she tells him about her mother who was beautiful and kind, all the way until sickness took her away.

She tells him this because he tells her first, about a larger-than-life father whose proximity to wrong-doing bureaucrats had landed him in prison, and an easy-going mother whose life had ended because someone else had been desperate for the money in her purse.

They do indeed walk around ‘til they’re tired, until around 6. Then Barry takes her to a little American bistro where they pride themselves on grass-fed meats and homegrown vegetables. They devour burgers the size of their heads and a mountain of fries that deserve their own table. He stuffs her with food and a piece of pie after, and he asks her some questions. He wants to know her favorite color and the television show she’s currently watching and if she’s always wanted to be a writer: yellow and Bridgerton and only since her parents’ divorce, when she’d needed to know that hers was only a unique story—or maybe she had needed confirmation that it wasn’t. She wonders about his dream job, his favorite hobby, the one thing he wishes he could do: forensic scientist, which he is, amateur theater, and getting his dad out of prison. That opens up a space for more convolution than should be allowed on a first date, and so she asks him more about amateur theater.

After, he walks her back to where her car is parked past Golden’s. When they get there, he listens for the sound of her car alarm, and then he turns her around, pressing her back against her car door. He walks closer, a hand at her waist, the other reaching up to cup the back of her neck, thumb circling lightly around her throat.

“Thank you for dinner,” she whispers. “I had a really nice time.”

“Yeah?” His mouth ticks up, that half-smile that is somehow both charming and a little bit maddening. “Enough that I might get a kiss?”

She tilts her head as if in thought, even as she gives in to her desire to touch him too, reaching up to finger at the faint moles dotting her cheeks. She only barely nods her acquiescence when he closes whatever distance is left and kisses her. Iris is always surprised by how warm his mouth is, by how sweet he tastes. He tastes like the apple pie they had earlier, but also like early sunset coffee on cool fall mornings and like how slow sex in the middle of the night feels.

He’s gentle in some ways, his mouth moving slow against hers, his tongue licking into her mouth like he’s trying to find life inside of her. But he’s a little rough too, squeezing at her waist so he won’t fondle her in the middle of the street, tightening his hold on her throat, only a little, but enough that Iris begins to feel the action in the throb of her sex. They kiss, eyes closed, her own fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, her hips thrusting against his in time to the flick of his tongue across her bottom lip, until she feels the swell of his dick against her belly and her loud moan tears him away from her.

“Fuck Iris,” he all but growls, licking his lips as he looks her over, a little wrecked. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it, playing with the soft strands of his hair, until she notices it’s all messy, matching the state of his swollen mouth, his wrinkled skirt, the heavy dent in the center of his pants. She wonders what she looks like.

“Get in the car, baby.”

Wide-eyed at the endearment outside of sex, Iris does as he tells her to, sliding in and buckling up before he closes the door. When the purr of her engine starts, he motions for her to roll her window down. She does, waiting as he plants his elbow on top of the car, bending his lean frame down so that his face is level with her.

He smiles softly at her. “Go out with me next Sunday.”

She bites at her lip, if only to give herself another moment to breathe. Because this date would be moving beyond a two-night stand, beyond an impromptu date, far beyond kissing on the side of the street.

“What time on Sunday?”

“Early afternoon,” he says and leans in even closer. “I’ll pick you up.”

She nods before she can talk herself out of it, even if she knows that she should. Barry motions for her with a crook of one of his long fingers, and it makes her think of what’s been playing in her head, of down for the ride, down for the ride; you can take me anywhere, and when she comes to, he places a sweet kiss on her mouth.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says, pulling away slowly.

And then Iris watches him—his strong and assured walk, his compelling and commanding aura—until she can’t see him anymore.

Do do do down for the ride, down for the ride

You could take me anywhere

I hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will

#westallen fanfiction #strangers to lovers #iris west #barry allen

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