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bisexual-buck · 3 years ago

Note

This wasn't supposed to happen.

(If you are still doing these ☺️)

cw // past non-consensual nude photography (no non-con sexual acts)

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Pete had been a Grade A asshole that he left behind nearly five years ago now. They only ever fucked around because Pete refused to commit but was also one of the only people that ever got as far as asking to see him again.

At the time, Buck thought that it could mean something, but in the end, he was just grateful it didn’t. Sex with him had been great, but the guy had a habit of treating Buck like shit any other time they spoke. It took a minute for Buck to realize that he deserved better, even from a casual partner, so he’d ghosted Pete and never looked back.

He wasn’t supposed to run into him on a call.

He wasn’t supposed to ever be on Pete’s radar again.

So when Pete reminded him that they had some good times together, Buck only nodded along. When Pete insisted that he and Buck should catch up with that same charming smile on his face that drew him in the first time, he said no. And he was proud of himself for knowing his worth, for not giving into the sparkle in Pete’s eyes that used to make him feel like he was the only one in a crowded bar.

Then, ignoring the hurt look from Pete and the confused looks from his teammates, Buck turned away and headed for the truck with the jaws.

It wasn’t until he had the jaws in their compartment that he heard the tell tale sound of his phone’s text notification. Buck internally winced because they weren’t supposed to have their phone ringers on when they were on calls. A quick glance to his side showed the rest of the team chatting and Bobby none the wiser, so Buck pulled his phone out.

The message was a photo from Christopher to the group chat that he had with him and Eddie. The boy was on a field trip to the Natural History Museum. It was clear someone had taken his photo for him because he was posed with friends in front of the T-Rex skeleton display.

Buck smiled and glanced over in Eddie’s direction, seeing the same look on his face as he stared down at his phone. He was about to respond when his phone chimed again, this time with an Airdrop notification.

The image preview was a shade of blue too dark and a bit too small to decipher, but what tripped him up was the name:

Pete (DNI)

Buck had a habit of saving everyone’s contacts, constantly worried he’d forget someone and definitely not wanting to answer the call of someone he didn’t like just because he never memorized their number. The DNI had been a reminder added to the contact when he ended up adding another Pete into his phone last year— a parent of one of Christopher’s friends.

With a sinking sensation in his stomach, Buck hit accept and waited for his Camera Roll to open up the photo.

What he saw was one of the last things he could have ever expected.

Buck knew Pete was a Grade A asshole, but this photo of a nude Buck took things to a whole new level.

“We could have some more good times,” Pete’s low, husky voice spoke from just over his shoulder. “Make some new memories,” he whispered into his ear.

Buck hadn’t even realized that anyone had approached him, and Pete took his silence as an opportunity to press forward. The man’s chest pressing into his back made him jolt forward in surprise, but all it did was give Pete the upper hand in crowding him against the truck. One of his hands pressed against the now closed compartment door, barricading Buck on one side, but there was nothing Buck could do to prevent it— his eyes glued to the screen in front of him in shock.

In all of their times together, Buck never recalled Pete taking any photos. Hell, he didn’t remember Pete ever asking if he could.

But here was a twenty-six year old Buck on his screen, eyes shut with his hands twisted into the sheets above his head. From the blissed out look on his face to the lack of clothing, there was no mistaking what had been going on in this photo.

He’d been enthusiastically consenting to all of his and Pete’s sex, but never to this. And for the man to still have the photo after all of these years?

The lump in Buck’s throat made it hard to speak, but Pete didn’t seem to mind carrying the conversation.

“So, what do you say? You and me, tonight, just like old times.”

Buck was shaking his head before he spoke.

“Pete…” Buck whispered, unable to hide the tremble in his voice. “Pete, why do you—”

“How far can Airdrop go again? It’s like three hundred feet, right? How many people do you think have an iPhone within three hundred feet of us, Evan?”

Buck’s head shot up and looked around. Bystanders were taking photos of wreck they’d been called to. And, fuck, there were the children they’d extracted from the vehicle they’d cut in half, mostly fine and now playing games while another one of their paramedics looked over their mother.

Hell, there was Eddie, too. But Eddie’s eyes weren’t on his phone anymore. They were watching him.

Eddie’s eyes were narrowed in confusion, as he stared down Pete. He could only imagine what his best friend was thinking about the position Pete had him in.

Something must have shown, though, because Eddie’s expression shifted, the confusion shifting into anger, and he took one step in his direction before Buck heard Bobby call his name.

A whine nearly bursted from the back of his throat as Eddie reluctantly turned away. He was desperate to get out of this— desperate for someone to walk over and make Pete and his threats go away.

“How many people do you think would see it on my Instagram story before it got reported?” Pete asked next, his breath spilling down Buck’s neck, his nose tickling the nape of his neck.

Buck’s anger finally boiled over and he whirled around, shoving Pete a step back.

“What the fuck, Pete?”

Pete stumbled back with his hands raised. It gave a perfect view of his phone screen. The photo was still open with the share screen up, and Buck’s breathing hitched as he saw it. One wrong move and Pete could accidentally send it to someone.

“What do you say?” Pete asked, undeterred by Buck’s anger.

And boy did Buck want to deliver him a sharp fuck you and storm off, but Pete’s threat hung over his head like a guillotine. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if Pete sent out that photo. He could probably even tackle him down fast enough to get the phone away from him. But it could very well be the end of his career.

He could only imagine the field day that Chief Alonzo would have with Buck for a nude photo of himself getting sent around to bystanders— to his team. It wouldn’t be Buck’s fault, but that didn’t matter. The Chief had been displeased with him since the lawsuit. It’d probably be even worse if one of those bystanders got a video of a Buck attacking Pete. Alonzo would jump at the chance to fire him.

With his hands tightening into fists, Buck nodded and offered a small smile.

“Alright. Text me the details.”

Pete smiled, oblivious to the storm thundering in Buck’s chest. “I knew you’d come around! Why don’t we go right now?”

Jesus Christ, this dude didn’t understand how jobs work did he?

“C’mon, Pete,” Buck tried. He lowered his head a little and looked up at him through his eyelashes. “I’m at work, in case you couldn’t tell. I’m off at eight, though. Pick me up from my station?”

Pete’s eyes lit up in what looked like genuine joy, but it twisted up Buck’s insides until he felt nauseous.

“I’ll see ya then, Evan.”

Pete walked away then, returning to the sidewalk path he’d been walking along when he first saw Buck.

Buck was halfway through a shaky exhale when his radio burst to life with Bobby’s voice blaring from the small speaker.

“Ready to join us back over here, Buckley?” There was a hint of teasing nature to his question, like maybe he saw Buck and assumed he was flirting with Pete. He wouldn’t be too far off if Bobby only saw the latter of their conversation and never saw his face.

He forgot that the whole team could see him from where they stand— already knew Eddie had.

After a moment, Buck looks up and locks eyes with Bobby. There’s a small smile on his face that slips the second he gets a good look at Buck’s.

That’s all it took for Buck to backpedal until he was retreating entirely.

Bobby’s voice sounded from the radio but Buck couldn’t hear it. All that filled his ears was static as he ripped open the door to the truck and climbed inside, only to fall to the cabin floor gasping.

Buck squeezed his eyes shut and was ashamed to feel the pinprick of tears pressing against his eyelids.

He couldn’t believe this was happening.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

So this… got away from me entirely. Dunno how that happened! I’m considering taking this to AO3 to finish. What do you guys think?

↳ send me a sentence and i’ll write the next five! (or more)

#*ask #anonymous #*ask: prompt game #911 abc #evan buckley #911fic #hurt buck #threats #blackmail

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shemarmooresfedora · 4 years ago

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing

A/N: for my 100 follower celebration (thank you so much), i opened up my fic requests! please just read my brief fic request guidelines before requesting!!! also thank god the ‘read more’ link is finally working for me. so sorry for people who had to scroll on the previous chapters (i am going to go back and fix them now)!!!

Masterlist

Chapter 16

“I’m home!” Spencer called out.

Jo bolted down the stairs and leapt into his arms, “Daddy!”

“Hi, Princess! Did you have a good day?” he asked.

“Yes, I played kickball with Henry at recess today,” she informed him.

“I have a surprise for you,” Spencer smiled, bringing her over to the couch.

You walked out of the kitchen just as Spencer was pulling an envelope out of his bag.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” he grinned.

Jo pulled three tickets out of the envelope, examining them.

“They’re for the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, Jo! They have a huge dinosaur exhibit and we can all go together this Friday,” Spencer explained.

“Thank you, Daddy!” she hugged him.

“You’re welcome, Princess. But I want to go too so this isn’t a completely selfless gift,” he chuckled.

Jo was waiting on the couch in full dino gear. She was so excited...and then your phone rang.

“Y/N, I can’t make it. I have a case and they really need me. I’m so sorry,” Spencer apologized.

You sighed, “Okay, I’ll tell Jo. Stay safe.”

You hung up the phone and sat down on the couch next to Jo, smoothing her hair back.

“Baby, I have some bad news. Daddy can’t come with us tonight,” you spoke softly.

“Why?” she whispered, tears forming in her lash line.

“He has to help other people who really need him,” you pulled her in for a hug, “But we will still go and have a great time and I’m sure Daddy will make this up to you when he gets home.”

“Okay,” Jo sniffled.

“You are such a brave little girl for letting Daddy help others instead of be with you. Now, let’s go see some dinosaurs.”

You didn’t know a bunch of cool facts off the top of your head like Spencer would so you mainly had to read from the plaques that were next to the exhibits.

Jo seemed to have fun regardless but you could tell she was a little down. You were walking to the car when she began to squirm.

“Need to pee,” Jo said.

Knowing she couldn’t hold it until home, you walked into some fancy restaurant hoping they would let you just quickly use the bathroom.

Luckily, they did but you stopped dead in your tracks when you were exiting the bathroom. Spencer was at a table with an attractive woman with a dark-haired bob. They were making some serious eye contact. This didn’t look like an urgent case at all, it looked like a date.

You scurried out of the restaurant before he could see you. Jo didn’t see him either which was a relief because you didn’t know how to tell her that her Daddy was a fucking asshole.

You rushed home, packing bags for you and Jo. You couldn’t be here when he got home. You wouldn’t let him interact with Jo after choosing some girl over her feelings.

“Where are we going?” Jo asked as you loaded the bags into the car.

“We are going to Grandma and Grandpa’s for a little while,” you said as you buckled her in.

“Is Daddy coming?”

“Um no. Daddy may be gone for a while,” you explained.

Once Jo was fast asleep in the car, you finally let yourself break, the tears drenching your cheeks. How could Spencer do this to you and Jo? Apparently you were not enough for him.

All of Spencer’s calls and texts were left unanswered. As he arrived home, the lights were off which was weird because you were usually still up by now.

He was still shaken up about the last thing Cat said to him.

“In twenty years, I’ll remember your name but you won’t remember mine.”

All he wanted to do was hug his girls and memorize every single thing about them so he could never ever forget them.

As he walked up the steps, a note was taped to the front door.

Pack your shit and leave. I never want to see you again. Stay away from me and especially Jo.

Spencer pulled out his phone so fast and called you. Voicemail, shit.

“Baby, I’m so sorry I missed the museum but I was already brainstorming ways to make it up to you both. Please come home,” he pleaded.

Spencer dragged himself upstairs, opting to sleep in your bed instead of his. He was so exhausted, he would be useless trying to find you right now.

When Spencer awoke the next morning, the house was still just as empty as it was last night. He sighed, calling Penelope.

“Garcia, could you please track Y/N’s phone? I’ll send you her number,” he asked.

“Do you have a reason?” she countered, “I can’t just go looking up everyone’s location. I mean I could but I need to be able to justify it to the director if they go through my computer.”

“She left a note but she isn’t responding to my calls or texts. I just need to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s in Fair Haven, New York.”

“That’s over a seven hour drive. She must have driven all night,” Spencer exclaimed.

“So she’s okay?” Penelope asked.

“Yes, thank you, Garcia. Her parents live there.”

Spencer quickly brushed his teeth, repacked his go bag, and set off on his drive.

You were all having dinner at the table when there was an urgent knock at the door followed by the doorbell ringing. Your father got up from the table and looked into the entryway.

“He’s here,” he said.

You sighed, walking up to the front door and closing the curtain right in Spencer’s face.

You had put Jo to bed and were now peeking out of your old bedroom’s window on the second floor.

“He’s still here?” your mom asked.

Spencer had seated himself on the bench on your front porch and had not left since then.

“Maybe you should talk to him, sweetie. He’s gonna freeze to death out there.”

“Mom, he went on a date with another woman when he was supposed to be taking our daughter to the museum and lied about it to me. I really don’t care,” you said.

“Well, you could at least tell him to leave if you don’t want to talk to him because it seems like he is waiting to say something.”

You sighed, grabbing a quilt from the end of your bed and stomping down the stairs.

“Here,” you opened the door and threw the quilt and a few granola bars at him, trying to close the door quickly again.

“Y/N, please wait!”

The door was already shut. That was as nice as you were willing to be at the moment. No one was forcing him to stay, he could leave at any time. But you weren’t up for hearing whatever he had to say right now.

To Spencer’s credit, he did sleep out there all night, not even going back to the warmth of his car.

Jo really wanted to go to the park this morning which means you were going to have to walk past Spencer.

After zipping up her coat, you said, “Jo, we are going to play a game where we don’t talk to Daddy, okay?”

“Why?” she asked curiously.

“Just because,” you sighed.

You lifted her up and opened the door. Spencer looked up, immediately standing up. You tightened your grip around Jo.

“Y/N, can you talk to me please? I don’t understand. You didn’t seem too mad about the case when I called you. I get it was awful timing but-” he rambled as he followed you to the car.

After finishing buckling Jo, you shut the car door. She didn’t need to hear what you were about to say.

“If you want a family so fucking bad, go fuck your side chick and stop trying to weasel your way into ours. I can’t believe you chose getting laid over going to the museum with your own daughter. I had to comfort her crying when I told her you weren’t coming and I said you were helping people but you were only helping yourself. Honestly did you just pretend to like me again so you could get to see your daughter to prove you’re better than your father? Cause from where I stand, Spencer, you’re no better,” you hit him right where you knew it would hurt.

“Y/N, what?” he looked heartbroken but you couldn’t trust anything about him anymore.

You got into the car and reversed out of the driveway, wiping the tears from your face.

“You lost,” Jo said.

“What?” you asked.

“You talked to Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby. I did lose.”

You got home late. You had purposely stayed out most of the day to avoid Spencer who was no doubt still camped out on your parent’s front porch.

As soon as you arrived home, he was already walking over to you.

You put your pointer finger up to silence him, “Let me tuck Jo in and then I’ll come down.”

Spencer was sitting on the bench when you returned. You stood by the door with your arms wrapped around you as if to protect yourself.

“I wasn’t on a date,” Spencer whispered.

“I saw, Spencer.”

“Well, I kinda was but it was an undercover mission for a case. I like you, Y/N. Actually, I love you, Y/N. I never stopped loving you...”

“How do I know this isn’t another lie?” you whispered.

Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket, “I had Garcia forward me Cat Adams’ case file and the security footage from that night. You can see Rossi, JJ, Morgan, and Tara all there but they were dressed up undercover too which is why you didn’t notice them there.”

“I’m sorry,” you spoke softly after reviewing the footage and seeing the mugshots of the woman, “I just assumed and my anger got the best of me. What I said to you about your father was especially cruel and untrue.”

“You had every right to be upset, I know it looked bad. I will try to clarify upcoming cases when I can but sometimes the details are confidential.”

“I promise to listen to your side of the story first next time before making you sleep on a bench outside,” you softly giggled, “and...I love you too. I don’t think I stopped either.”

“Can I kiss you?” he smiled, standing up and slowly approaching you.

“Yes you may, Spence,” you smiled as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #cm fanfic #reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Note

can we see chris just having a good day with like some happy stims? he is a huge comfort character for me and seeing an autistic OC who has the same stims i do and stims openly is just. amazing. sorry for no sentence prompt!

Of course, Anon! I know what I’ll do for this one, definitely.

CW: WRU/BBU and some pet whump references but this is pure fluff

Jake looks up, squinting as he hears a sudden thumping from the roof over his head, the kitchen light shaking very slightly. “Good or bad, d’you think?” He asks, and glances over at Kauri, who is leaning his back against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee from a mug shaped like a unicorn, his fingers wrapped around its rainbow tail. One ceramic eye seems locked on Jake.

“Fuck if I know,” Kauri responds, squinting. He’s been awake for twenty minutes and clearly has not had enough coffee yet to join the world under anything but serious protest. “It’s too early for anyone to have strong feelings, Jake.”

“It’s seven,” Jake says, gently, but he can’t help his smile. “You should’ve gone to bed before two, Kaur.”

“Used to be easier staying up all night. When did that change?”

“When you got old.”

Kauri glares at him, and Jake gives him a look of serene innocence in return. “You’re older than I am.”

“Yeah, and I also don’t go to bed at two and get up at six anymore without a damn good reason, now do I?”

Kauri snorts. The thumping starts back up above their heads, and Jake sighs, pushing himself out of his chair.

“Okay, I’m going to go up there and see what’s going on. He keeps that up, he’ll wake up my household, and not one of them isn’t in dire need of as much sleep as they can get.”

“Mmmn. I’m going to finish this coffee and go back to bed.” When Jake raises an eyebrow, Kauri grins at him. “I didn’t say I would sleep, now did I?”

Jake’s kiss is brief but forceful before he turns to head upstairs and see what has Chris making that kind of noise this early in the morning. It could be good or bad - but things haven’t really been too rough lately. Chris is doing fine in school, his friends are good, he and Laken started talking about living together next year... Jake runs through the list and he can’t find anything of concern, not now, not in this odd period of something like peace. Still, he worries.

Part of being somebody’s brother, he supposes, and finds a smile playing across his face. The eternal thought of I’m somebody’s big brother, popping in now and then, to remind him that how he started isn’t where he is now, and never has to be.

Chris’s door is closed and Jake knocks politely, the thumping stopping. Chris flings open the door, eyes shining and bright, wearing only his compression shirt and loose pajama pants, clearly interrupted during the process of getting dressed. Behind him, Jake can see a large blue t-shirt laid out on the bed, from the museum he went to with Laken a few weeks ago. It as some kind of dinosaur skeleton in black on the front, like a T-rex but Jake knows it’s not actually a T-Rex. He can’t remember what Chris said it was. Next to the shirt is his stim bracelet and a stim necklace, a flat black bat today instead of his usual feathers.

As always, Jake hides the wince at the sight of his forehead scar, fading slowly but still too bright and red for his liking. Too permanent. Visible evidence that when it mattered, Jake couldn’t get in to him in time.

“You’re shaking the house,” Jake says, scanning Chris’s expression, but all he sees is sparkling brightness, a smile playing there, fighting his attempts to look serious. “What’s up?”

“He, he called,” Chris says, quick and rushed, and lets go of the door, stepping back, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet on the hardwood floor. “He called, Jake!”

“Who? About what?” Jake steps in, closing the door slowly behind him, leaning back to watch Chris spin and then stop and start bouncing again, almost jumping, his hands flapping rapidly and eyes closed. Jake thinks with a pang of regret about how his longer hair used to float around him like a halo when he was happy like this. Now there’s hardly enough to even move at all.

He’s so fucking excited, though, whatever it is...

“He, he, he-he called!”

“Chris, hey, who called? What’s going on? Is this about getting an apartment? Did Laken hear back from-”

“No!” Chris stops long enough to look at him, breathing hard, but even when he stops bouncing his hands are still moving, almost a blur in the air. He can’t keep his body from moving, and fuck if it isn’t something Jake loves to see. He can still remember the silent statue they’d brought into the house that first rainy night, the frightened, dehumanized rescued teenager that had bloomed into pure sunshine in human form and now Jake watches a grown man who doesn’t police his own excitement. “I mean. No. No, it’s, it’s not... no. Jake, do, do you-... when Laken and I went to to the museum, the natural history museum? Do you remember?”

“Yeah, man, it was a few weeks ago. I don’t-... I don’t follow. How does that-”

“The, the, the Romantic I saw! I, I gave him one of our our numbers, you remember? Do you remember?”

“Yeah... yeah, I do remember you saying-” The full picture hits Jake all at once and he nods, slowly, feeling a smile of his own echo Chris’s expression. “He called? That’s who you mean? The Romantic-”

“Nine texted me,” Chris says, breathless almost, his hands moving, his body bouncing, a low hum coming from him between sentences, fading long enough for him to breathe.

Jake has seen Chris so many versions of happy, but never quite the same as this. The closest is maybe when his college acceptance letter came, when they got the proof that all of Chris’s work for nearly five years had been enough to get him back on track to the life WRU had interrupted.

Not stolen. Not for good. Not now.

“He, he, he he he-he called, he called, they’re gonna go go go get him, they, they, um, they’re gonna go get Rafael, he’s, they’re gonna get him, it worked, it worked it worked it worked-”

Chris flings himself forwards and Jake’s back smacks into the closed door behind him. He lets out a soft ‘oof’ but holds Chris tight, feeling him still moving even now, hands shifting easily into finger-twist-tap-tap-tap on Jake’s sides, his arms. He laughs against Jake’s shoulder, bright and brilliant laughter, and Jake finds himself laughing, too.

“Well, how about that? You did it, Chris.”

“I, I, I did it,” Chris whispers, and he rocks into Jake, and this is so familiar, now, too. “I did it, Jake, I, I did it, it worked, I did it, I, I... I, I helped someone. I, I helped someone get get get get out, I helped someone.”

“You did. I’m fucking proud of you, man.” Jake doesn’t mention that the escapes don’t always go to plan, or how common it is for Romantics specifically to try and go back once they run headfirst into starting over. He doesn’t want to mention it, anyway.

“Do, do, do, do you think I could see him? When they find him somewhere? Do you, you-you think?” Chris pulls back to look up at him, and Jake smiles down. “Will he want to, to see me? Do you think?”

“I think so.” Jake lets him pull back so he can go back to moving, watching Chris full to overflowing with pride in himself and happiness for the other pet, a buzzing energy he doesn’t hesitate, not by now, to allow to find its own way out. “I know I would, if it were me you saved.”

Chris pauses and looks over at him. “I would, too. Save, save you. I would. If it it it were you.”

“I know. What are brothers for?” He’s rewarded with another dazzling smile. “I’ll tell Kauri you need to shake the house for a while longer, okay?”

Chris wrinkles his nose. “Why, why is Kauri up? We didn’t stop watching the-the-the movie until two.”

“Yeah.” Jake grins moving back out the door into the hallway. “And he’s regretting all his choices today. Tell Nine I said hey.”

He closes the door again and moves back to the stairs, unaware that at the end of the hall, Eli’s door is cracked open and the quietest current member of the house stares out at his back, mouthing Nine?

Then Eli closes the door.

Jake gets downstairs to find Kauri staring outside at a tree. “Hey, Kaur, so-”

“I hate that bird,” Kauri says, and takes another sip. “It’s too early to be so fucking cheerful.”

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary

Rafael appeared in these three drabbles

#chris asks #chris the strawberry blond romantic #jake the shelter guy #pure fluff #original fiction #wru #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #happy stims #erase to control #pet whump references #brief but there

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rhaenyraisadyke · 3 years ago

Text

A Year Later Transcript: 8/3/21

Here it all is on a google doc if that is easier to read!

W: “I heard there was a special place.. Where men could go and emancipate.. The brutality and the tyranny of their rulers…” Do you know that one Ranboo?

R: I have I have I have, I’ve heard that one a few times, I had a friend that sings that one quite a lot.

W: Yeah it's great, I- I personally, I am a big big fan of the song and not just because I wrote it, I know, I know they saw aww yeah they say you are your own worst critic, but I mean, I think it's good. Do you know what it's based on?

R: Mhm mhm

W: Obviously it's based on hallelujah, but the thing is Ranboo, right is the reason we did it is because Tommy used to sing hallelujah to the plants around the thing... the caravan! Do you remember the caravan? You have heard of the caravan right?

R: Yeah, yeah I’ve heard of it and seen the re-creation of it at the museum, but that's really it.

W: Actually can we go see it? Let's go see it quickly!

R: Yeah, sure.

W: So, so, he used to plant the stuff around the caravan, and it made it grow better, he hehe used to ha, my man Tommy, what is this? This is new.. I won’t ask questions…

R: I- Someone planted a lot of beats here and I don’t know why

W: OH, okay I quite like it, it looks really nice, it looks nicer than the target that used to be here. Um

R: Yeah

W: So my man Tommy used to sing to the plants to make them grow better um and that was the song he used to sing so I thought what a better way to honor tommy, one of the most loyal members of our fair nation then to name the song after him and base the song after his little muse. Tommy is all of our muse really, I'd say. So here's the museum.

R: Yeah, Yeah

W: I haven't been to the museum, wait las- that's where I met you Ranboo right?

R: Oh yeah yeah, that's where you saw me next to the um poster of myself… I don't know why that's still up, I kinda put that there and it preceded to stay there, is it still set up? Oh, oh no.

W: It’s not still up anymore it was here, it was right here on this wall. I quite liked it, but I guess not enough for it to be history though.

R: I’m not historical yet apparently.

W: So yeah in here, in here where the declaration of independence would sit on the wall here, it was actually quite, quite a nice van, not quite as nice as yours, I quite liked what you were doing with yours. Have you been working on it since I’ve been gone?

R: Yeah I’ve been working on it. I added a nice little table outside and did some pathways and appropriately themed flowers.

W: Thats nice

R: Yeah!

W: Let's go to Lmanburg or what was lmanburg, last time I saw it was a big glass thing.

R: Yeah I think it goes by Lmanhole now apparently.

W: Ahh ehh, that's kind of rude, it's kind of rude to Lmanburgs history you know?

R: mhm

W: It’s called Lmanburg, it's called Lmanburg. NOT Manberg NOT Lcrater or whatever, Lmanhole I don’t care it's now Lmanburg it's always Lmanburg. It’s just how it goes.

R: Okay

W: Yeah so that's why the song exists as it is. Oh there's no glass.

R: Yeah! Yeah I mean it seems to have changed a little bit.

W: YOOOO I actually didn’t know this was here

R: Yeah! It’s even got the flag down there at the bottom

W: It’s got the flag man! Can we go down and see the flag? Cmon Cmon lets go

R: Yeah yeah wait you alright?

W: I’m like a lemming I don’t care I’m just gonna jump

R: Oh well okay… careful!

W: Look at this dude!

R: Yeahh

W: Oh wow I really went down to bedrock didn't I? Holy Shit.. I did a number on this place. This is amazing!! Ahhh This is what it deserved, not the glass bullshit, this is what it needed, this like beautiful overgrowing, it feels like it happened, it doesn't feel like a monument, it feels like nature has claimed it back,

R: The book has kind of closed in that sense

W: Yeah.. we’ve got, look they have got they rebuilt the lake man! And this used to be a real river about here into Lmanburg- wait, Ranboo do you see that is that Tubbo?

R: Yeah… that's Tubbo

W: Aye Tubbo!

T: “I heard there was a special place where men could go and emancipate…”

W: Tubbo?

T: “ the tyranny” - oh?

W: Tubbo!

T: Hello?

W: Haha! You’ve came, I- I havent seen you dude in FUCKING ages! Tubbo, are you singing the song?

T: Yeah… Yeahhh?

W: Are you? Are you singing the thing?

T: Yeah hello?

W: Hold on I’m coming im coming im coming man

T: Where are you?

W: Hold on, I'm coming around, here I come, Tubbo man! I haven't seen you in ages!

T: H-H..Hello.. Wilbur..

W: I’m coming around man!

T: Yeah aha…

W: Bro! Its-

T: Weird seeing you here.

W: What in Lmanburg? That seems like the most normal place to see me.

T: Uhh yeah I suppose so

W: Well I- dude I don’t even know what to say to you man, it's like looking in a little mirror, you are even still wearing my suit still?

T: Yeahh

W: How long have you been wearing that?

T: Oh I just put it on for today, I just for it's been a year now…

W: Well you look good in it! Ranboo have you met Tubbo?

R: Yeah! Well I’ve I’ve met him, I mean we’ve um… been around yeah

W: Well Tubbo I’m really happy to see you man, dude

T: Ah, well thank you.

W: Do you even know what happened? Since,

T: What do you mean what's happened?

W: I saw you briefly man when I was resurrected, I remember you SUPER SUPER briefly but this is the first time we have actually gotten to speak, I- I will admit I was a little overwhelmed during that whole thing. I was running across the glass, thank god it's gone, this is far more adpt, but I was running across the glass, I’m sorry I wasn't you know, entirely on the same page, but I promise you I’ve calmed down I’m all settled in, I understand what's changed, what's happened whos new, whos old whos still about who uh…. Who trusts me and stuff

T: Did they fill you in on the story? Like what happened here after you died?

W: Yeah, they did, I’m gonna be honest with you it's not a pretty one, I kind of left a bit of a ripple. If I was a rock, dropped in a lake, I’m a pretty big rock

T: You- yeah’

W: And I can’t say I’m not- I’m not flattered. I mean I am flattered, I’m not TOO upset about it, I like being the big ripple, but more than anything, I want to say super simple man. I want to say. I want to say I’m sorry

T: Awe

W: For one thing mainly, I’ve been thinking about this for years, LITERAL years. I’m sorry for making you president specifically before blowing it up and I’m sorry for when I did this and blew all this up and making this hole,

T: Well I mean-

W: and making you president of a crater and i'm sorry. I’m really really sorry. I really am

T: I mean this wasnt all you Wilbur….

W: We’ll get to that, do you? Do you forgive me?

T: Yeah, I do forgive you

W: Man, ahhh my little treasury, secretary treasury, do you remember that?

T: Yeah yeah I remember that. Secretary to treasury

W: Ranboo he was the secretary to treasury and then he was president

R: Yeah

W: And then he was president

T: Yeah I’m pretty sure the treasury was like somewhere there.

W: So what were you saying about me not being the one there who blew it up?

T: Well I mean you definitely blew it up. I feel like you’re missing some vital information.

W: Wait, so you rebuilt it? How long -how long did it stand before this happened?

T: Yeah so, me, and mainly ghostbur honestly like

W: ….ghostbur….

T: He- put so much effort into making it right again.

W: Is he this obsidian crap I take it and these uh? Fucking lanterns

T: You know dream?

W: Yeah I know Dream- I love him. Dream’s Dreams

T: Oh..

W: Dreams probably my favorite person, sorry Ranboo i mean uh no contest here, Dreams probably my favorite person he saved me

T: Oh.. Oh..

W: He saved me he brought me back to life

T: Well um yeah I mean he was powerful I guess but um Techno and Philza yeah um

W: Techno and Phil blew this up?

T: They built this big obsidian contraption overnight… I couldn’t even see it coming. And they rained TNT for days.

W: nhh

R: Yeah…

W: And that's.. Wait hold on, why would Techno and Phil do this? Why would Techno and Phil blow up Lmanburg? Didn’t they live here? I mean I don’t know about Techno…

T: Techno and Phil, they hated the government, it was partially my fault as well…

W: But you didn’t blow it up

T: No, I didn't. I never wished for anything to happen like this.

W: So it was just Techno and Phil?

T: Y-y yes..

W: Sorry that's kind of just hit my not the blowing up part- You know I’ve done that,

T: Yeah

W: I’m not shaken up about that. I’m shaken up about man, is that, you rebuilt this! After I was gone

T: I can’t take all the credit obviously but there was a big effort

W: That fucking ghost- who cares man YOU rebuilt this! Bro, you

T: Yeah I suppose

W: MY fucking grave! I was so pressed about not having a grave, screw a grave I built something that you loved that YOU wanted to preserve… thats,

T: Yeah, I really honestly…

W: Tubbo that's worth more to me than a grave. That's worth more to me than this shrine. That's worth more to me then- Tubbo this is probably the best gift I have ever been given, this knowledge that people actually cared enough, that you cared enough to rebuild this community after it fell.

T: Ahh, I’m glad you’re happy.

W: You… haha, sorry, aww man, Tubbo thank you.

T: It’s alright, I just feel lost without Lmanburg. All my core beliefs.. Everything died with it.

W: You feel lost without Lmanburg

T: I have no purpose.. Anymore.

W: I guess that's where anarchy fails… Tubbo, I have a little, a little thing coming. Not big, nothing much yet, ehh, it's not a big deal you know, it's a little burger van at the moment but I got plans, big plans. Tubbo it's called paradise

T: Paradise.

W: Yeah, yeah will, would you like to come join me in paradise? Literally?

T: Hmmmm, Id, I’m not sure Wilbur, I’m not sure I trust you man. In order to follow someone I need to trust them.

W: Wait… wait- but I thought you forgave me!

T: Yeah Wilbur I forgive you because I like to hang onto the hope that people change but, I don’t trust you yet Wilbur.

W: Okay… Taboo. I literally was dead for thirteen years. I know it wasn't long for you, I know it was only a couple months for you but thirteen years Tubbo… Thirteen years of my life. I am old! Look at me! I’m not the same young man you knew. I-I’ve been through it and in those years, I’ve learned Tubbo, i wasn't just sat twiddling my thumbs just going “oooh this is nice ohhh i'm in darkness right now” you know I was thinking. I relived that explosion in my head so many times man, and I get that you don’t trust me, I do but like man! Look at me bro, I’m not gonna do it again, I’m not gonna hurt you again. I’m not gonna you know… I know you, you had the festival with Technoblade, I never spoke properly to you about this.

T: mm

W: I could have saved you…

T: But you didn’t

W: I- Tubbo… I’m reaching out to you man, I’m on my knees.. I, I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry and I literally, your forgiveness means so much to me but it doesnt give up what I did to you and it doesnt give up how I failed you as a friend, you know eh, fuck being as a coworker but just you know anything… Ranboo you might know or have known all of this and I’m really sorry if this was your first of hearing I can explain later on but like..

R: Alright………

W: Tubbo, man, I’m, I want to make it up to you. And you know what? I appreciate you don’t trust me. I do.

T: Wilbur in order for you to gain my trust back you have to prove it first. I can’t just give it out anymore. I used to be able to, but I just, I just can’t.

W: Tubbo… I really appreciate it, and I mean that genuinely. I appreciate it and I am gonna go out and prove to you I’m worth being trusted again. I promise.

T: Okay…

W: I’ll do it. I’ll do it. I’ll redeem myself and you'll.. Youll

T: Do you know I still have dreams right? Of the explosion… And, and of the fireworks. And all of it. I vividly see all of it every day. It HURTS. It hurts Wilbur a lot.

W: I- Tubbo, Tubbo, I know, I know, Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo Tubbo, please, I know…. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I- arhh It feels like sorry is such a weak word. I feel like there's nothing stronger that I can say, and I understand what you mean about how my actions need to reflect it and they will. Give me time. I’m gonna make something. I'm gonna make something of this and I’m gonna…

Uhhhh

Tubbo do you know how fucking strong you are? And I’m not trying to say - I’ve got your forgiveness, but I know I need to earn your trust but man… you're so strong man, genuinely. Just the fact you proved to me that just there that you have these memories and these nightmares, you still found it in your heart to forgive me, that's... You’re a fucking champion man. You’re a hero.

Look I get you don’t want to join me in paradise. We won’t talk about that anymore but, cmon, at least come and see, come and at least see what me and Ranboo have been doing! Look I don’t know- Ranboo are you? Are you and Tubbo friends? Are you and Tubbo like good friends?

R: Yeah, yeah I’d say so.

W: Then why don't you and him come and see what I’ve made! Come and see what I’ve got going on! Lets go lets go!

T: I think.. I think I’m gonna stay here, Wilbur. I think I’m fine, just to stay here.

W: No, no man, no worries. Look at me bro look at me bro! Chin up! Look, lucky rabbit's foot!

T: Okay…

W: Tommy gave it to me

T: Lucky Rabbit's foot…

W: Lucky Rabbit's foot man, chin up. Ranboo, I’ll, you can come, it's cool.

R: I will, I will. Do you need me to stay here?

T: No.. *sniffles* I’d like to be left alone please

R: Oh… you sure? I mean.. I can stay…

T: Yes. I’m fine

R:You sure? Okay...

W: Ranboo! Let's go man.

R: Yep! Lets- lets go

W: Cya tubbo! I’ll send a letter!

T: Uhuh

W: Comeon Ranboo

R: Alright

W: Ah man! It’s its I mean I I was gonna say this is hard, but obviously it's hard, I’ve -

R: It is, it is

W: It's difficult man and I’ve been you know it's gonna get better and it's gonna be worth it when I see them smiling.

R: Yeah, yeah

W: Tubbo, Jack, Niki, Tommy, anyone… Do you know who the original Lmanburg group were? Do you know who we were?

R: Ah, uhh I think most of them yeah, I think it was you, Jack, Niki, Fundy I believe as well

W: Fundy was after, Fundy was a bit after we got independence

R: mhm yeah I don’t really. I don’t really know much of lmanburg history

W: That’s alright you’ve got it down, it's correct. It’s that group and we um yeah we fought against Dream and we managed to succeed and we created a life process. Ranboo I’m gonna tell you something I’ve never really told anyone, I try and keep this on the low because I don’t want uh people to use it against me is the main problem. I didn’t even tell Tommy. I- I lied to Tommy I’m gonna be honest. I’ll tell him soon

R: Yeah

W: I’ll tell him I lied to him because I feel- it kind of eats away at me. I kind of- I told Tommy that I didn’t actually care about Lmanburg and that it was actually a tool for me to get and gain power and stuff but it's not true. Lmanburg was really important to me and it is still to this day. I want it, I want its history to live on, not as a stain caused by me because I basically took a bit shit on the history books. I wanna, I wanna make it feel like it was you know something that happened and it was a great thing. Think of the good times, the years and years well not years but you know the time of safety the time of fun, prosperity! We built parks, we built you know, no taxes, big walls, we had democracy! All be a slightly disjointed version of it but you know, that's how people should remember Lmanburg, that's what people think of when they think of our nation you know? And that's, and Tubbos the last connection we really have, I mean he, he said it himself, he's kind of you know… he's got nothing without it. I’ve heard of what Tommy, Tommys you know moved on and Jacks moved on and Niki’s moved on and everyones moved on at least partially… but Tubbo man, he's still……

R: Yeah he's still very strung up about it even though it's been awhile… He, he distracts himself with projects and everything which is nice but, you

W: Heh, projects

R: I mean yeah fortifications as well

W: I think he's gonna be alright

R: I hope so

W: I’m looking out for him. Anyway I want to say thank you Ranboo for you know trusting me this quick, I mean you barely know me

R: I mean, yeah

W: You barely have known me very long and you just know you’ve done all this with me and you’ve worked with me and I- I- you know I don’t I don’t know where I’d be without you here right now, man. T-Tommy’s great and all he's here and all but I don't wanna string him along too much because hes- I, when I look at him, when I look at him and he's helping me out and building things with me, I - I see the same eyes that looked at me when… when… there weren't some fun times in the ravine of Pogtopia I wasn't a very well man, and I can just see Tommy from that day…

oH!! Ranboo! This looks great man!

R: Yeah yea, I’ve made a couple of um changes to it. Added some stuff to it

W: Like I was saying though, I appreciate it, I really appreciate it.

R: Yeahh, yeah of course! Of course

W: May I ask, I know I’ve already asked this before but why do you trust me so fast? What's the…?

R: I mean I like to normally see the good in people and everything.

W: I know we’ve gone through that and you’ve made me cry just

R: Yeahhh, sorry about that, but I- I think the reason I think I know what it's like to have no one hurt or at least feel like no one trusts you.

W: Mhm

R: Um, and I- I’ve realised that if no one is with you, then how can anyone really know when you’ve redeemed yourself. So that's why I’m here

W: You wanna see the fireworks?

R: Well maybe not the fireworks but, I mean at least

W: Ceremonial

R: At least when you change er redeem yourself I think it- it's good to have someone there and it's not nice to be alone all the time so…

W: My boy! Ranboo, I knew

R: Yeah!

W: I knew I could trust you. We got the exact same mindset I’m thinking of ahh Ranboo I love what you have done with the burger van

R: Thank you, I’m glad you like it

W: I think this is going to be a beginning of a beautiful partnership,

R: Yeah!

W:beautiful friendship, and maybe when Tubbo comes we can you know have a big party and all get to know each other a bit better.

R: Yeah I can, I can talk with him I think and maybe get him to uh join hopefully

W: Yeah, don’t pressure him. He doesn't have to join, he just needs to come. I just want him to come and see our patented burgers!

R: Yeah!

W: Our burgers, our burger NFTS he needs to come and try them! Ranboo. Thank you man

R: You’re welcome, I’m glad that I could help out a little bit at least.

W: You’re a brilliant man and I'm going to go now a happy man.

R: That's good, I’m glad you’re happy.

W: Thank you Ranboo. Buh Bye. Ah, I love that guy bro!

#dsmp transcript #transcript #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #lmanburg #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #c!wilbur #las nevadas #paradise

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mochibrokenheart · 3 years ago

Text

SVSSS: Guardian of the Museum

Mobei Jun x Shang Qinghua

Word Count: 2,756

Summary: Of course there's ominous growling and destruction to the building on Shang Qinghua's first night as a museum curator. Of course there is! Besides being desperate to keep the job, he's not sure what possesses him to actually walk toward the dangerous situation. His survival instincts were better trained that! Except...wait a minute...the terrifying creature causing all the ruckus is actually the hottest thing he's ever seen???

My first contribution for Moshang Monsterfucking Month (and my first fic for the fandom in general!) Heavy on the monster part as the nsfw is not explicit. Who knew that it would be hard to write something short. Inspired by the Day 2 prompt: horny.

Also posted on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34305571

A nearby bell tolled at midnight just as Shang Qinghua locked up the museum for the night, which meant that he was officially off for the weekend. Being a party of one, he celebrated with a groovy victory dance while turning the key over in the lock.

There was a little click and he rattled the knob, checking that the door was properly locked—if anything was stolen or vandalized during the night, he would most definitely be blamed as the recent hire!

The job was an important stepping stone in his career path plan to being a rare artifacts curator. He really needed the experience. It was hard enough to land the job, so he wasn’t above looking neurotic by double, and triple, and quadruple checking everything before he left.

A chilly breeze tussled his hair and raised goosebumps down his neck. It was October, he supposed while drawing up his hood to block the chill, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to complain.

He was much to delicate for cold temperatures and would exercise his right to curse out the changing seasons. Of course, he could move somewhere further south, so that he wouldn’t have to put up with it anymore, but still!

The only good thing about the loss of summer was the bugs, he decided.

Clearly, Shang Qinghua was irresistible because bugs treated his blood like an all-you-can buffet. If only hot men thought the same. But alas.

Sighing, he turned up to admire the full moon, who seemed to sympathize with the sad state of his romantic affairs, being the moon and all. Something about it’s pale gray-white color naturally emoted a sad, longing reflection.

It was as he was looking up that he heard a growl, loud not because of its pitch—it was actually quite low and gravelly—but because it vibrated the very air around him.

Shit. Shit. He wasn’t equipped to deal with some beast! He had no weapons and there was no way his body was going to get the job done either. He was a delicate flower, just ask the bugs who always feasted on him!

He rummaged through his bag frantically for his phone. That was what the authorities were for.

Opening his phone, his mind was racing. Who did you call when there was a potentially wild animal on the loose? The police? Animal control?

Gasp! What if it turned out to be a demon?

…!!!

He didn’t have any shamans or priests on speed dial. There had never been a reason to until then but if it would save him, he’d buy up every type of religious necklace he could and wear them around his neck daily. It was like insurance—it never hurt to cover all of his bases.

While he was wasting time on the sidewalk, what appeared to be small bits of gravel drifted down from what seemed like the roof. Scurrying to get closer to the streetlight, which casted a circular light on the steps of the museum, Shang Qinghua bent down to get a closer look.

It felt dusty when he rubbed his pointer finger against his thumb and did match the shade of stone the building was…The new evidence presented a bit of dilemma. Yes, he was still itching to call somebody have them do the dangerous work, but at the same time, his boss might fire him if something happened to the museum under his watch.

“Well, if there’s more damage, I guess I’ll take a look,” he muttered. He clasped his hands together. “But please, take mercy on me, moon! I promise that if you get me out of this that my next erotica will be dedicated solely to you, and in very large print, so that my readers know the reach of your mystical power!”

His hands remained clasped high above his head as he waited. So far so good.

There was still the scary growls, of course, but those didn’t count because he wasn’t going to investigate that. It was absolutely common knowledge that people who investigated weird sounds always ended up dead, at least in horror movies, and that was all the proof he needed to wash his hands of it.

No, the only thing that could sway him from his crouch on the front steps was…was…

Tears shimmered in his eyes as more rubble was knocked off from the roof, the fine particles irritating his nose and causing him to sneeze.

Thoroughly betrayed, he used his sleeve to wipe at his nose. Forget the moon. Clearly the bond he felt had only been one-sided, and now he was obligated to actually suck it up and put himself in harms way.

The Shang Qinghua of five minutes ago would’ve screamed and called himself a fool. Why ignore those highly honed flight instincts?! Even the Shang Qinghua of the present was screaming and calling himself a fool when he took the first hesitant step inside.

It was deceptively quiet in the stairwell but that wasn’t enough to calm him. As the saying went, it was the calm before the shit storm and he was about to be right in the middle of it. How careless of him.

Just in case this was the end, he started to draft an epitaph—it’s not like anyone else would put in the same amount of effort.

His minor following would be too busy wailing about the permanent book hiatus; his boss would have their hands full dealing with insurance over the architectural damage; and that hot-and-cold cucumber bro of his would still be nagging him in the afterlife, criticizing him for his stupid plan when it ‘clearly would’ve been better to do such and such’. But back to him.

We are gathered here to mourn the passing of one Shang Qinghua, a bright hamster that was taken from Earth far too soon. His exhibit work was flawless, his knack for collections cataloging unrivaled. There was never a day without bountiful office supplies with him around. We thank him for his singular brave—foolish?—sacrifice in the name of historical value. Shang Qinghua is survived by several dying houseplants and the stray dog he usually fed on his way home from work.

There. That sounded as good as he was likely to get. Wait. No. He almost left out the most important part: the secret letter of last words meant only for cucumber bro’s eyes. Bro, if you’re reading this it’s because I died a terrible and scary death. Please take pity and wipe all of my search history. It was all for research, honest! It’s bad taste to judge a dead man.

The access door to the roof was large and imposing in front of him, even though there was still no noise coming from the other side. He was going to be mad and then relieved, in that exact order, if this turned out to be nothing.

He inhaled. Exhaled. Jumped around and shook his hands where they hung down beside the length of his body. He’d watched enough athletes—for research!—throughout his short life and getting loose always seemed to pump them up for competition. The same principle should apply here.

The door gave with a loud screech and he suspected that it wasn’t in regular use. Not that there was probably much to see up there anyway. Just roosting pigeons, stone slabs, and—

His mind went blank.

Crouching in the corner, so close to the edge that all it would take was a gust of wind to send him tumbling down, was some sort of winged creature. And the wings were massive things that arched up before curving downward completely over it’s back, the tips draped on the ground. Judging by how large they were, they had to be functional, which nearly caused him to wet himself.

He didn’t want to imagine that thing taking flight after him. Not that he would be exciting prey. Gods, this probably how a mouse felt when a hawk was flying overhead.

But it was the horns that really caught his attention. They were hulking black spirals and the sharp points were pointed right at him. Even in the poor light, it was obvious that they were pure black. Any other time, he might comment on how cool they actually were, how they were a cosplayer’s dream, but it wasn’t cool when it was a matter of life and death.

And he would most certainly die if those menacing horns and wings were any indication.

Trying to keep the element of surprise, he slowly let the door swing shut. Until a little bat started flew over squeaking, which caused him to squeak as well. The door hit the frame with a loud rattle. His body went heavy with fear and his eyes snapped shut, a natural prey response. He had never, ever been this scared.

Not patient enough for Shang Qinghua to turn around on his own, the creature flung him around to face it with an aggressive growl. And he had thought it was loud when he was on the sidewalk. Which wasn’t true at all. It was much louder and more intimidating when it was right in his face.

“Trespasser!” it growled, teeth clicking.

…Okay, so it could talk. Maybe this was a good thing. Now could grovel with it to spare him!

Blinking rapidly, he opened his eyes and looked up, up, up. It didn’t look as horrific from the front as it did the back. In fact, it had a humanoid appearance and was distinctly male. He was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, a total fantasy come to life. How the hell was he real?

His was incredibly tall, his huge wings proportional to his size now that he was standing up. Now that he saw them up close, Shang Qinghua noticed that they were a beautiful shade of blue that started out dark but lightened to pale blue once it reached the tips, which also had sharp spikes—Nails? Claws? He wasn’t well versed in anatomy—attached.

The top of his ears were pointy, too, just like the tops of the wings. Oh, and the horns! There were two of them, both pure, glossy obsidian, that sprouted out on either side of his temple, the bases thick and ridged as they spiraled like a ram’s. The only difference was that his horns were much larger. He could maul someone with those along if he wasn’t careful.

But now that he considered it more—even in times of crisis, he could multi-task when it really counted—the horns only added more to his attractiveness. They were intimating, sure, but also sexy, in a monsterfucking type of way. He gasped as a clawed hand wrapped around his throat. Yep, he could definitely get into the horns and claws. Mark him down as scared and horny.

The growling died down but sharp teeth were still on display, and there was a stylized tattoo-looking mark on his forehead. Despite the snarl, Shang Qinghua instinctively knew that his face was insanely attractive; it had to be to match the rest of him. Speaking of the rest of him…

He dropped down in front of him, making sure to drag his hands down that ripped physique and gave his massive pectorals a quick squeeze before he landed on his knees in a kneeling position.

His face was right in front of the creature’s impressive package, covered only by a flimsy loin cloth. It fluttered in the night breeze and he had to bite down on his finger to stop his depraved moaning. “Ff-forgive me, my good-demon-sir, but I swear I’m not trespassing. I’m a humble worker here at this museum.”

He quickly took out his employee badge to offer it up to the demon who barely gave it a glance. “Gargoyle,” it said in reply.

“Oh. I’m sorry but I don’t really know what you mean by that.” Wait, why did he say that? He didn’t want to get further in the demon’s bad side than he already was! “I mean no offense, of course. I’m sure gargoyles are absolutely lovely—”

“No,” he interrupted, his face smoothed out into blank slate. It made it harder to read him but Shang Qinghua quickly decided that it was alright. “I am a gargoyle, human. You may address me as Mobei Jun.”

Ohhh. Now that he mentioned it, his wings and horns could belong to a gargoyle. He knew that they were popular parts historical buildings that had a strong Western influence, which the museum did.

“And I am a king. Not a sir.”

Curse his authority kink. He was sure that any new fantasies he conjured up would be staring this particular king and Shang Qinghua as his servant.

“Of course, my king! You’re reeking of kingly handsomeness. As a lowly human, my apologies for the obvious mistake.” The gargoyle king didn’t make any move to acknowledge his words other than a slow blink, so he figured that it was all good. “Excuse me if this sounds rude, but what are you doing up here? And what was all the noise about?”

“Guardian. I was charged with the safety of this place by a war lord.” Jeez. So he’d been with the building for centuries at least, maybe even millennia.

There was a pause and he realized that he wasn’t going to answer the second question. It also seemed like the gargoyle king was waiting on him and a light bulb went off. “S-sorry again my king. I am Shang Qinghua. I am in charge of the rare artifacts inside of the building, so you may see me closing up most nights.”

The gargoyle king nodded sagely and he figured that the role must be acceptable to him. A loud sigh left him and his muscles relaxed just in the slightest way. He might survive this encounter yet. Ever better, survive and be able to go home and break out that new bottle of lube that he bought last week. There was plenty of new material to work with, that was for sure.

Then the gargoyle stepped back, giving him more space, which was actually the opposite of what he wanted. Feel free to punish him for earlier transgressions, king, especially if they were rough in a sexy way!

Unaware of his inner pleadings, he continued walking away to crouch back near the edge of the roof.

“Umm, be careful, king. It’s dangerous to be that close—”

“I am a king. Concerns such as that are not applicable,” he said, puffing up his chest. Those pecs! He might have to put in a request tomorrow to do more work on the roof. It was a crime that no one was admiring that body on a regular basis. “Leave. Return home. The circles under your eyes are hideous.”

He gasped, touching his bags. Rude! He had just finished a long shift and definitely wasn’t at his best. He was going to have to step up his game if he was going to tempt this gargoyle in the future. Trying his best not to show embarrassment, or disappointment, he agreed to leave.

“Whatever you want, my king. I’ll leave for now but if you need anything, I’ll be back tomorrow and the day after as well. In fact, every night, in case you need me.” Screw his weekend off. Who needed one of those when there was a hot gargoyle of legend serving as the guardian of the museum. Not him, that’s who.

He scrambled to his feet and bowed again for good measure. The door was open and he was across the threshold when his dream gargoyle muttered something. “Did you say something, my king?”

He cleared his throat and spoke gruffly. “The pigeons pooped in my hair.”

Suddenly, the growling from earlier made sense. No matter if you were human or gargoyle, having birds shit in your hair, especially hair as luscious as Mobei Jun’s, was bound to make anyone furious.

Determined to keep his laughs to himself if it was the last thing he did, he merely replied, “Yes, my king. I will make sure to chase them away from you next time.”

“See that you do.”

On cloud nine, Shang Qinghua grinned as he bounded down the stairwell. The gargoyle’s comment implied that there would be a next time. And he intended to romance the loincloth off (literally) of the serious gargoyle king.

Hope you all enjoyed! So happy to share this with everyone. Thanks for reading :)

#svsss #svsss fanfic #mobei jun #shang qinghua #moshang

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skvaderarts · 3 years ago

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Hiraeth Chapter 62: Exploration

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Sixty-Two: Exploration

Note: I'm enjoying getting so many longer chapters in. Feels good!

(-~-)

The temple was comprised of a menagerie of different corridors and rooms, all of which possessing their own highly specific use case or purpose. Intricate engravings and pictographs adorned almost every visible wall, betraying the truly ancient history of such a grand structure. And although none of it was easily understandable to the average person, It was still more than enough to be able to admire and respect the historical contribution that works like these could pose to the people of this kingdom, and to the rest of the world by extension if they knew anything about it. But perhaps it was best that it stayed as it was, guarded and untouched by the people who it belonged to. In an unknown state. While it was true that some history belonged in a museum, was it truly history if the people who created it or took part in it its creation were still protecting it? Still dying for it?

In some places the walls were painted, but most laid bare, the markings adorning them being the only thing that made them stand out as opposed to a simple stone wall. And that was appropriate considering the fact that most of the walls were still bare, a few spots in the process of being worked on seemingly being abandoned part of the way through. Or maybe that was how they were supposed to look? It was hard to say. He was no anthropologist, and he'd never seen anything like this before.

But it's fascinating as all of them was, and is right as Lucia have been when she said that he might appreciate her people's culture more than his brother probably would, the eldest of the Dark Knight Sparda's twin sons have to admit that they were nothing more than a pleasant distraction in the midst of what would otherwise be a complicated and dangerous situation. Well, it would be if Lucia hadn't been there. She seemed to navigate the retrofitted temple with relative ease, whereas he found himself considering routes or options that were ostensibly the worst possible method to get to where they needed to go.

And that was the other issue: He had no idea where they were going.

He was so used to what he was looking for being straight ahead of him in one way or another that he hadn't even really considered it. And with nothing in the way of a challenge to do battle against within the walls of the building, he just found himself sort of quietly following along behind her, taking in the sights and attempting to not seem like the fidgety child that he felt like at the moment.

It had been a while since things had gone this… smoothly. It wasn't that things had been easy, it was that they had been relatively straightforward. They made sense. And while the cacophonous and winding always reminded him of the demonic tower that he had helped raise so long ago, this was clearly an entirely different set of people in an entirely different setting. Its craftsmanship easily rivaled that of the tower, but there was just something decidedly more exotic about this location. It was almost exciting. A part of him genuinely enjoyed it, at least for the time being. He was still quietly waiting for something to go horribly wrong. But at this point, was that anticipation, or a self-fulfilling prophecy? Were his very thoughts causing him to carry out actions that would lead to the negative outcome that he was imagining, or was he actually that unlucky most of the time? A question for the philosophers.

"Am I to assume that we are headed to an antechamber of sorts?" It was a good guess based on the structure's presumed layout.

Lucia looked back at him, her red hair blowing behind her as a small gust of wind tossed it about. Little shoots had been cut into the sides of the ceilings in some places, allowing air to pass into the chambers without having access to windows of any sort. It was a clever bit of ventilation considering when the building must have been constructed. And it was probably the only way that most demons could get in, which explained why a lot of them were so small and why they had encountered so few of them.

"Correct. Each of the Arcana is kept in a different portion of the temple behind its own unique protections. We're almost to the one that houses the Arcana Spada."

Placing the torch that she had lit when they had entered the structure in a notch in the wall, She fiddled with a slot in the wall nearest to her. Moments later, a sliding door of sorts opened, rolling out of the way and allowing a second door behind it to lift up out of the floor into the ceiling. It was an ingenious bit of engineering, and Vergil was admittedly curious as to how it functioned. Being alive during the period in which many of these sorts of structures had been built must have been interesting. What could they have learned from these long-forgotten civilizations? The technology used to build this structure seem to be leagues ahead of where it should have been at the time, and much could be said about the Temen Ni Gru. Had their dealings with demons allowed them some sort of knowledge in regards to these sorts of matters that he was unaware of? It seemed that technology had taken a massive step backward after the Hellgates had been closed. What an interesting if not unfortunate circumstance.

Following the young guardian into the antechamber that was hidden behind the doors, it occurred to Vergil that unlike seemingly every other structure he vented, this antechamber was actually located off to the side in an innocuous room instead of in a grand hall in the center of the building. It seemed that they had taken a few clues from some other ancient civilizations in that regard.

Nothing specific came to mind, but he could remember some civilizations doing things that were similar to this in a bid to keep grave robbers away. Some even went as far as booby-trapping what would otherwise be the central area of the tomb or temple just to punish those who attempted to actually break-in. A devious plan that he wholeheartedly approved of. At the very least, you should be allowed to have peace and rest undisturbed after death. There was a special place in hell for grave robbers. He should know. He'd probably seen them when he was down there.

"And what is the significance of this specific Arcana? Why would someone steal it? I assume that it is ritualistic in nature? But it has a secondary use, does it not? Something that causes it to stand out in comparison to the others?" He followed her up the steep, well-worn ramp, noting the abundance of colors and pictographs as he hurried along. Everything that he was now seeing was better preserved than the rest of the temple, which was saying something when how well the structure was kept up was taken into consideration.

Obviously taking a moment to consider what he had just asked her, she paused momentarily to looked around the room, torch in hand. She then stepped forward and began to light some of these sconces along the edge of the wall, eliminating a pillar in the center of the structure. What seemed to be a skylight bloomed over them, but it was currently closed by a large stone dome, so there would be no natural light tonight. The structure was interesting and seemed reminiscent of an altar of some sort.

"You are right. The Arcana is special. While the others were contributed by different groups of our people, the blade was contributed by your father. Its composition is different, and I would not be surprised to learn that he had crafted it himself. The materials seem to be demonic, and have properties to match. The same essence, in a way of speaking.” She gestured towards the room they were in. In the center was a pedestal with some sort of intricate holding apparatus. That must have been the blade’s housing apparatus. “My mother might know more about that, but it would be invaluable in a ritualistic setting. I believe that it is no accident that it found its way into your son's body."

Vergil nodded. That made sense to him, unfortunately. Demons were always after artifacts that his father had either helped create or had at one time owned. His wards and spells had a strong hold on much of the demotic world, and as such getting a hold of something that he had created were used to create something else was generally considered a fable use of time. He didn't need to know the precise secondary use case of the blade to know that if it had been created by his father then it should not fall into the hands of the devil prince.

Upon entering the room himself, a wave of what he could only describe as heavy familiarity hit him. If nostalgia had a sensation, it would be this place despite never having stepped within it before today. The feeling that had been outside in the courtyard was amplified by several dozen times in here to the point where it was almost suffocating, and yet he didn't feel threatened by it or even uncomfortable. Lucia seemed to be somewhat puzzled by its presents, wish she was otherwise undisturbed.

There was no mistaking it: this had his father's influence all over it.

(-~-)

The Ludwig family had acted swiftly upon receiving his phone call, coming to his location with clearly supernatural speed. They had taken the young adjudicator into their care immediately and had insisted upon doing the same with V in order to ascertain the status of his curse. He had taken little consideration as to his own well-being in the adrenaline field panic that he had been in, and both his admittedly minimal injuries and his slowly progressing curse had been put to the wayside for the time being.

It had been decided that they would hold him until the morning. Magnolia and Flora would be returning to his home anyway, so if this was to be the outcome, then he could easily return with them at that point in time. Perhaps they would get lucky and Sirrus would recover by then? It was probably wishful thinking on his part, but he desperately felt the need to do something, anything to help his companion recover. He had done the same for him. It was the least he could do given the circumstances. He didn't like seeing people who were kind to him suffer.

But upon arriving and being seen by a physician, there had been quite the commotion. He hadn't caught the specifics of the details, but it seemed that they were something extraordinary about Sirrus's blood loss that required an extra amount of care and attention to be shown to it. It was something nebulous from what he could tell like a shortage of a certain blood type, or something equally as strange. Whatever the case may be, it seemed that his blood was not compatible with anything that they currently had on hand and that his body's ability to regenerate its own supply had been hindered somewhat. Stabilizing him had been hellish and troublesome, but after something that he had not been able to see clearly had been administered orally in the form of a liquid powder, he had seemingly started to recover although he had not regained consciousness.

In a strange way, it was good to know that he was not the only one who had these sorts of issues. Though he had never experienced that specifically, his friend's extraordinary abnormality made him feel somewhat secure in the knowledge that he might actually not be quite as odd as he thought he'd been all this time. This was going to be quite the story to tell the rest of his family once they all met up. But for now, he would remain at Sirrus's bedside, awaiting the moment that he would awaken so that he could thank him for everything that he had done and to just see if he was alright in general.

For a brief moment in time, he had considered the possibility of asking some of the Ludwig girls with a significance of his gift had been. It was clearly enchanted to some degree, so finding out what the bracelet did specifically was fascinating to him. Still, it was not the time. As soon as Sirrus was doing better, then he could bother with that sort of thing. No, until he awoke he would just sit here and fiddle with it quietly, allowing Shadow and Griffon a much-needed rest. Maybe he would read his book while he himself was attended to by the wonderful young woman that worked in that wing.

He'd refused to have his injuries treated by what little staff that they had till Sirrus wounds had been brought under control. He wasn't that badly injured, and he couldn't in good conscience sit there and take up viable resources when someone else needed them more. His temporary discomfort was more than warranted as far as he was concerned. And that's how he found himself sitting there being treated in the room next to him, not nearly within range of cross-contamination, but still within the same general vicinity.

They had put up some sort of protective plastic barrier between them for that exact reason, but it was indeed helpful to help keep things sanitary. A few bandages and a little bit of disinfectant later and he was basically fine. A bit scuffed up and with several bruises that were sore, yes. But he was alive, and although the curse had indeed spread, he only felt slightly weak as a result. He was admittedly just happy to be unharmed for the most part. The fight could have gone much worse. It normally did.

Realizing that he desperately needed to talk to somebody about what had happened, he spared a glance at his resting companion before making the decision that he could temporarily step out of the room. He didn't want to leave long, but he did want to make a phone call, and it would be rude as far as he was concerned to make one inside of the room where he was. And even if he didn't have that issue, there wasn't a phone in here. He'd have to go and get one. Maybe he should buy one?

Quietly standing and hoping that the chair he was sitting on didn't creak as he did so, he made his way over to the door, opening it and stepping through before closing it quietly behind him in a manner so slow that he wasn't entirely sure that it was necessary. He then looked up and down the hall, wondering if there was one on a table in the breezeway or something. He didn't actually know if they really had a lot of phones in this house. It was lucky that they had picked up when he had called. Almost as lucky as he'd been when he realized that he'd remembered the number.

Making the executive decision to just go and ask someone about where he could make a phone call, he headed into the main hall, sure that someone would be still awake at this time of night. But as he headed through the doorway, he ran face to face with someone that he wasn't expecting to see still up at this hour. He'd assumed she'd gone to sleep after what had happened.

"Good evening, Willow."

She stopped, turning her attention to him for a moment as she seemed to be taken slightly by surprise. A somewhat perplexed look crossed her face as she obviously considered something. But a moment later, she nodded. "Likewise. I was actually just coming around there to see how things were going. Has he awoken yet?"

V couldn't help but notice that she seemed uncomfortable, her hands clenched together in front of her in a manner that betrayed what he believed to be actual, genuine worry. She had been walking in the opposite direction, so he had probably taken her by surprise. What a shift in behavior considering how displeased she had been to see the young adjudicator the last time they had visited, at least initially. Perhaps it was guilt for what she had said to him when he'd been here last? Either way, he shook his head to indicate that he hadn't woken up yet. She did a decent job of hiding her obvious dismay, but not good enough to go unnoticed.

"Oh... I see. Well, do you keep me in the loop if you can? I'll send someone to come and check on both of you soon." She shifted her stance slightly, turning more to face him than she had been before. She unclenched her coupled hands, putting them slightly behind her back on either side of her body before more than likely bunching them into uncomfortable loose fists. There was no anger, only discomfort." Did you need anything? I can't imagine you're just wandering the halls so late at night searching for a sense of clarity."

At the risk of seeming unpleasant or possibly even rude, V decided to make the executive decision to have a meaningful discussion with her for a moment. He had nothing to gain by lying. "I was wondering the very same thing about you, though it may not be my place to. You seem anxious… and you don't seem like the sort to wander anxiously through your own home. But to answer your question, I was looking for a phone. I wanted to call someone. I suppose I just need to get something off of my chest."

Willow stared at him quietly for a moment, seemingly thinking about what he'd said. For a moment, V was concerned that he had upset her before she nodded and something akin to a soft smile spread across her face. It seemed that she understood what he meant by that statement and wasn't upset by it. He was strangely relieved by that fact. He didn't know her enough to have a concrete reason to be worried about what she thought of him, but either way, he didn't like being an ungrateful guest.

"Are you sure you're your father's son? I don't believe he's ever worded anything in such a thoughtful manner in his entire life. He cared little for causing me upset, but I suppose I did cause quite a bit of grief myself." She seemed to drift off for a moment, thinking of a bygone time and her youth with what we're clearly nostalgia glasses. He got the impression that his father and this woman probably didn't view that memory the same way. Actually, knowing Vergil, he probably didn't remember what she was thinking about in the first place. He'd noticed that his father seemed to have a habit of not recalling things that were important to others because they had meant very little to him at the time. Fleeting moments in an otherwise negligible experience. But he couldn't really fold him for that. It wasn't really a character flaw so much as it just wasn't a lack of awareness of what other people were paying attention to. That was a common enough thing for people to do.

Something akin to a small smirk graced his lips for a moment. "Perhaps it's a product of not meeting him until later in my life." He couldn't be sure why he'd felt the need to divulge that, but it almost felt good to get that off of his chest. There was a strange sort of tension that came with the moments when people asked him about his childhood or his past, not realizing how drastically different it probably was from what they assumed it to be. But he wasn't ashamed of that so much as he just wasn't entirely ready to talk about it to other people. But even given that fact, there was something about this moment that allowed him the levity to speak his mind.

The look of genuine surprise that crossed her face was admittedly unexpected on his part, but she nodded in solemn agreement. He remembered Magnolia telling him that their mother and father had passed away when they had been teenagers. Perhaps he had brought up a memory or a feeling that she could relate to. After all, it had seemingly torn their family apart at the seams. "I suppose that makes sense... There's a phone over here. Feel free to borrow it. Though you can't walk off anywhere with it. It's a landline."

He nodded in agreement, appreciating her assistance. She then gave him a small smile and turned to go back to what she was doing, bowing as if to dismiss herself. It seemed that once again he had dismissed her original assumption as to the family structure of another person that she knew. He wondered where that came from with her, but he couldn't say that he was bothered by it. He didn't really care enough to be.

But with that in mind, perhaps it would be best to go and use that phone now. There was no telling when Sirrus would wake up, and he genuinely needed to talk to Nero. With the difficult time that he was having right now, he felt like perhaps his little brother was the only person that would truly understand. He just hoped he wasn't disturbing him. After all, it was late. The last thing that he wanted to do was wake the children or their long-suffering parents. Kyrie and Nero deserved more than that.

(-~-)

For a moment there I actually thought that today was Friday. Lol, nope! It's Tuesday! See you on Friday, and the new readers who have joined between now and the last few chapters! It's always wonderful to have new people around and to answer any questions that you all have! Hope to see you in the comment section, and I'll see you all again on Friday! And if you see any errors, let me know! I went over this twice, but I still feel like I might have missed a few little things.

#Hiraeth #V #Sirrus #Lucia #Vergil #Willow #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU OC's #My Post Devil May Cry V AU Fanfiction #My Post Devil May Cry 5 OC #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #Vitale #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #Post DMC5 #Post DMC5 AU FanFiction

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kindofwriter · 4 years ago

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Can I offer you some: ‘Ep 25, The Gang Meets Wilde’

Pt. 2

I guess I swung wildly between ‘brandy’ and ‘whiskey’ when writing this and didn’t notice, oof.

Transcript under the cut:

HAMID: I don't, I, I don't think so... Um, hello?

HAMID presses his finger tips to the door, swinging it gently inwards but not fully opening it. SASHA instantly flattens herself against the wall, drawing a dagger and clutching it to her chest.

VOICE (O.S.): Oh, hello?

BERTIE: Oh! Hello!

SASHA and ZOLF both give BERTIE a glare. HAMID reaches out to push the door further, but stops before he does.

VOICE (LANGUISHLY): Oh, hello!

BERTIE (OVERLAPPING): Hello!

HAMID (OVERLAPPING): Hello?

VOICE (O.S.) (OVERLAPPING): Hello!

BERTIE: Hello! Hello!

ZOLF elbows BERTIE in the waist.

ZOLF: Who on Earth are ya?

VOICE (O.S.): I could ask you the same question, I suppose!

HAMID steps into the apartment, pushing the door wide open as he does so. ZOLF and BERTIE step in behind him.

OSCAR WILDE is lounging by the hearth, looking only slightly uncomfortable in a halfling-sized chair. He's human, average height and average build, with plump, youthful features. His hair falls the nape of his neck in glossy, brown waves that shimmer every time he turns his head; he's clearly wearing an illusion.

WILDE is dressed in a manner that's almost garish: peacock patterned waistcoat, scarlet, French-style suit, red shoes, and yellow socks, but between his good-looks and his charisma he completely pulls it off. In one hand he holds a glass of HAMID's whiskey, and in the other a note pad.

WILDE: So sorry I, uh, got here a little early, thought I'd just wait it out.

WILDE smiles winningly at the party. BERTIE reaches up to lift the grate of his armour. HAMID looks confused. ZOLF frowns, then grabs hold of his symbol. A low sound, part way between a hum and a growl, emits from his throat, reminiscent of wind battering across the top of a lake. For just a moment his eyes glow, then WILDE's notebook bursts into flames.

WILDE: Ooh, ah!

WILDE drops the pad, shaking his hand. It's burnt to a crisp before it hits the ground. Looking at its smoldering remains, a faint smile twitches at WILDE's lips.

WILDE: Fantastic, that'd be you... Zolf? Yes?

ZOLF (PLAYING DUMB AS A ROCK): Who, sorry?

WILDE (SMIRKING): Hmm.

CUT TO SASHASASHA is still pressed against the wall, head turned to the side so she can listen in. Her face is stony, but she looks poised for a fight.

CUT BACK TO INT.

WILDE: So, that must be Zolf.

ZOLF scowls and looks away from WILDE.

WILDE: And Hamid, and Sir Bertrand, yes.

BERTIE: Hello.

BERTIE steps forward, obscuring WILDE's view of everyone else. Between his height and his breadth he towers over WILDE, who immediately starts to look a little flushed.

WILDE (ALMOST COY): Hello.

WILDE looks BERTIE up and down in a meaningful fashion. He then glances away for a moment to meet ZOLF's eye, just to make sure he's catching what WILDE is doing. BERTIE looks a little affronted at the loss of attention.

BERTIE: Mm.

WILDE turns and begins to pour another glass of whiskey from HAMID's decanter, then offers it to BERTIE.

HAMID: Um, who might you be?

WILDE (WITHOUT BREAKING EYE CONTACT WITH BERTIE): Wilde. Good to meet you.

BERTIE: Pleasure.

BERTIE takes the drink.

ZOLF: Is there a compelling reason why, um, I shouldn't shove this trident up your bum?

Now WILDE does turn away from BERTIE, looking right at ZOLF. It's difficult to tell whether he's red with annoyance, heat, or still recovering from his intense eye contact with BERTIE.

WILDE: Oh, that's not very- You wouldn't want that getting out, would you now? Honestly!

BERTIE (CLEARLY TRYING TO WIN WILDE'S ATTENTION BACK): Well, you haven't been formally introduced, which I think is part of the reason.

ZOLF (MUTTERING): Well, also, you'd be dead, so it wouldn't be going anywhere.

BERTIE has clearly failed to hold WILDE's attention, as he watches ZOLF with a quirked eyebrow. There's no hint of the 'bedroom eyes' he'd tried on with BERTIE, but there's definitely some kind of passion in that gaze. However it seems, more than anything, like the passion to argue.

HAMID: You, you, you appear to be in my apartment uninvited.

WILDE: I do apologise.

WILDE actually looks at HAMID for the first time.

WILDE: I was just hoping to get hold of you, and, well, I thought this was the best place. I mean, you have been staying here most nights, haven't you?

HAMID: Yes.

WILDE: Well, there we go then, I, uh, I thought you might enjoy the company.

WILDE once again makes eyes at BERTIE.

HAMID: Next, next time it might be nice of you to wait for an invitation.

WILDE: I, I do apologise, I, I did knock!

HAMID sighs deeply.

HAMID: Not quite the same thing, is it?

WILDE (EVASIVELY): I suppose not. So! This is all very exciting; I'm noticing you're all looking a little worse for wear-

HAMID smooths a hand over his waistcoat.

HAMID: I, uh, I would dispute that, thank you.

WILDE: Well, let me re-phrase: not all of you. I'm, I'm noticing, um-

WILDE glances at ZOLF, who seems to be the only one in the room not trying to capture his attention.

ZOLF (GRUMPILY): No, I always look like this.

WILDE: One of, one of your party's missing?

ZOLF (PLAYING DUMBER THAN A ROCK): Who? Nope.

WILDE: Oh, I'm fairly certain that the girl-

ZOLF (INTERRUPTING): No, nope, who? What?

WILDE: The girl is. Hmm, yes. Quite. So, where have you been? How was today? I'm quite fascinated, actually.

HAMID (FIRMLY): Why don't you tell us why it is you're here?

WILDE: Well, I just thought it might be a good idea for you to sit down and, y'know, really, really share, y'know? Really explain things by yourselves, because people want to know. You know?

WILDE gives HAMID a very smug look.

HAMID: Are you a reporter of some kind?

WILDE: Mm, yeah, of a, of a kind. I, I, I sell my stories to whoever's interested, really. And a lot of people are very interested-

WILDE turns away from HAMID and begins to pour more glasses of whiskey. HAMID seems unfazed by this.

WILDE: I just, a lot of people are very interested-

BERTIE: Well, you know-

BERTIE shoves his glass between the decanter and the glass WILDE was filling, effectively giving himself a top-up.

BERTIE: I, I have been looking- I very much have an opening for a biographer.

BERTIE raises an eyebrow at WILDE, still leant across him from filling his glass. WILDE smirks.

WILDE: Well, we would have to closet ourselves away for a significant amount of time to really go over, go over the details. The nitty gritty, as it were.

Behind them, ZOLF scowls, clearly picking up on their queer-coded language, but immediately looking down on anyone who would willingly flirt with BERTIE. HAMID shuffles his feet, waiting innocently for the pair to finish talking.

BERTIE: I, I assure you, I have some extremely fine details to share with the appropriate young scholar.

WILDE turns, two new glasses of whiskey balanced in one hand.

WILDE (WITH A CHUCKLE): Presumably you mean of quality, not diminutive.

BERTIE joins in with his chuckle, but it quickly becomes mean, eventually devolving into a deep growl. Suddenly looking a little uncomfortable, WILDE moves away from BERTIE and offers a glass of whiskey to ZOLF. His face is soft; clearly he's looking for a little sympathy.

ZOLF refuses to take the whiskey, and scowls again at WILDE.

HAMID takes the glass offered to him, so WILDE drains ZOLF's.

BERTIE: My details are distinguished by their quality and their quantity.

WILDE (LESS SURE, BUT STILL PLAYING HIS PART): Indeed, I mean, that, that's a lot of the reason that I'm here. I've been hearing so much interesting- I mean, your deeds with Other London? And especially, I mean- Did you, did you manage to catch whoever it was with the antiques store?

CUT TO SASHA IN THE HALLWAY

SAHSA grimaces; tightens her grip on the dagger.

CUT BACK

WILDE: I heard that was, heard that was a bit of a problem, no?

An awkward silence hangs over the room for a moment as ZOLF and HAMID give WILDE a look that tells him that was in poor taste. BERTIE enjoys his whiskey.

HAMID: Uh, l-look, Mister Wilde, I don't-

WILDE: Sorry that was, that was, that was rude of me. Clearly I was treading on a nerve. I'm so sorry.

BERTIE raises an eyebrow, seemingly losing some respect for WILDE as he apologises.

HAMID: I don't, I don't mind telling you about, uh, what we've been up to. As I'm sure you've seen in the press and will see again soon, we are not averse to sharing our story. But I really must insist that you tell me what it is you do, and why it is you are here specifically.

WILDE (JUMPING IN): It is so generous of you to donate so much to the natural history museum, as well-

Suddenly WILDE is knocked off his feet, backwards into HAMID's chair, dropping his glass as he does so. SASHA looms over him, the tip of a dagger pressed lightly to his throat. WILDE is surprised, but not afraid.

SASHA: What do you know about the antique store?

WILDE smiles, just slightly.

WILDE: Well, I was hoping you'd be able to tell me, all I know is that you were there.

SASHA (UPSET, BUT IN HER OWN WAY): What, what do you know?

BERTIE steps forward, placing a hand on SASHA's shoulder.

BERTIE: Now, now, Sasha. If there's any blade to be held to this young man's throat I feel it should be mine-

SASHA shrugs BERTIE off with such force he actually has to remove his hand.

SASHA (CLEARLY AGITATED): He, he knows something about what happened to Gusset. He, he knows who trashed Gusset's store!

WILDE (WRIGGLING BENEATH THE DAGGER): No, no, that's not what I said.

SASHA: Oh, really? So, you know-

WILDE: I was curious-

SASHA: So how did you know about that? Because we didn't go to the press about that.

SASHA pressed slightly with the dagger. WILDE leans further into the chair to avoid getting nicked.

WILDE: Well, y'know, some people are observant, and some people, y'know- I mean, where do the press find these things out?

SASHA: Well, but- Usually, Hamid tells them!

For just a moment SASHA alleviates some pressure from WILDE, and it seems as if she might wheel around to threaten HAMID. Then she looks down at WILDE and re-applies the pressure; she trusts HAMID.

WILDE: Well, usually doesn't always cut it-

SASHA: That's how journalism works!

WILDE takes a moment to allow his eyes to drift back to BERTIE.

WILDE: Some deeds will just speak of their own accord.

SASHA: Oi!

SASHA begins to press the tip of the blade to WILDE's throat. Once ZOLF realises what she's doing he steps forward slightly, poised to pull her off.

SASHA: What do you know about who trashed Gusset's store?

WILDE: I don't know what to say. I know that you went in there, and you, uh, had a bit of a conversation. It looked very amicable, and then you headed on your way.

WILDE catches sight of ZOLF, stood behind SASHA with an arm outstretched. He visibly relaxes, allowing a huge grin to spread across his face.

#rqg #the rusty quill gaming podcast #zolf smith #oscar wilde rqg #sasha rackett #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #bertie macguffingham #zoscar #ah that sweet sweet qpr meet ugly #rqg 25 #author's note

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hb-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Thank you for your help.

Inspired by my 100+ lovely followers, @love-me-a-good-prompt’s “THANK YOU IDEAS” prompt list, and a request from a lovely anon.

Summary: A Suits story from the Lines to Live By Universe. 12-year-old Charlie Specter needs some help from her big brother with a homework assignment.

Featuring: Harvey Specter, Specter!Sister (Charlie)

-----

Harvey glanced at his sister as he came through to the kitchen, running the towel over his wet hair. She’d been asleep in her bed, or at the very least she’d been pretending at that, curled up under the covers and facing away from the door when he checked on her no more than ten minutes earlier.

It was nearly seven, at least two hours before he usually saw the kid emerge from her room on the weekends. She was usually sleepy-eyed and still in her pajamas, determined to spend the day doing as close to nothing as he’d allow, but in the few minutes it took for him to get showered after his run, she’d made her way into the kitchen and put the coffee on, fully dressed for the day.

“Good morning.” Harvey let the words come out slow and suspicious as he turned from her to pour his coffee. “You’re up early for a Sunday. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Harvey had come to expect his sister’s smirks at his sarcasm or something equally sarcastic in turn, but when he glanced at her, Charlie was looking down at her lap and it took her a moment to register that her brother expected an answer.

“Can, um…” she started. “Do you have time to help me with something?”

Harvey sipped from the mug, a slight arch of his eyebrow. Sundays were freedom for the Specters, the only day that could be entirely law or homework free, a day devoid of expectations or obligations so long as they both worked to keep it that way. Harvey hadn’t worked a Sunday in years, had gotten good with pushing it from his mind on the day in question, and Charlie had gotten into the habit of completing any schoolwork by Saturday afternoon as well.

“It’s nothing bad,” she offered. “Just a little project.”

“And you left it for today?”

Harvey thought he’d largely sidestepped that part of raising his sister, thought that they’d bypassed the years of science fair projects and parent-supervised arts and crafts. She was independent and Harvey trusted his sister to do what she was supposed to, signing off on quizzes and report cards and her weekly school agenda with barely a glance at the details.

Charlie nodded, lifting the thirty-seven-page document from her lap, the binder clip clanging as it hit on the countertop.

“What the hell is that?”

Harvey watched Charlie chew on her lip, more intent on that than answering. At her silence, he set down the mug, pulling the papers forward as he flipped through them.

“Charlie, what is this?”

“The autobiography assignment,” she mumbled.

“What autobiography assignment?” he asked, flipping back to the page of instructions. “How long have you had this?”

It was due the next day, and though she hadn’t expressed exactly what she needed his help with, he knew she wouldn’t be coming to him like this if it wasn’t more than she could feasibly handle.

Charlie shrugged.

“The truth,” he said.

“Since last month.”

“And you just decided to skip the first instruction telling you to have an adult at home read it over before beginning?” Harvey glanced at her, caught the effort she put into gulping. “You have started this, right? You’re not coming to me the day before this is due with nothing?”

“I started… I just...” Charlie took a deep breath. “I highlighted what I need help with. Page fifteen, seventeen, eighteen, twenty-one, and twenty-three.”

She had already done most of the assignment, done everything she could without asking her brother for help, written most of what she remembered in her life from the age of five onwards, but there were several pages of questions she just couldn’t answer and a fair few she just didn’t know quite how to word.

Harvey sped through the highlighted sections, his eyes flicking up at his sister as the problem dawned on him. Charlie hadn’t had an easy childhood. She didn’t have a family that fit properly on the traditional tree, didn’t have a narrative that she necessarily understood or wanted to share with a class of twenty-five other twelve-year-olds.

“I’ll give Oliver a call,” he said. “You shouldn’t be expected to--”

Charlie shook her head, snatching back the papers. “No, don’t call him. I just… I just need your help.”

Harvey leaned into the countertop, taking a deep breath as he watched her. He’d rather help her with an exploding volcano, would rather be subjected to another elementary band performance, or play chaperone on another chaotic trip to the Zoo or the UN or the Museum of Natural History.

“You’re sure?” Harvey asked.

Charlie nodded. Even if she hadn’t been given the assignment, she wanted to know about the parts of her childhood she barely remembered, wanted to know how to tell her story without gaps or pauses to make space for the things she still hadn’t properly processed.

“Alright. Give me a minute. You start on breakfast.”

It would give Harvey a moment to get dressed and to figure out how he was gonna handle things, because he hadn’t processed it either. He always thought at some point his sister would have questions but he hadn’t imagined it would be so soon.

Charlie turned towards him when he came back into the kitchen, fully dressed and with a thick folder in his hands.

“What’s that?”

“1996 to 2007.”

Harvey kept the file stowed away in the safe of his home office, all of the old pictures from before she was in their lives along with her birth certificate and the adoption and guardianship papers, medical records, some school work she’d done when she was small. He’d pulled it all from his father’s house the same day he’d brought her clothes and stuffed animals in from Long Island. He’d gone through once, had Donna make digital copies of the things that he might need with some frequency, and left the rest undisturbed. He started a new file when she came to be with him.

Charlie nodded once, taking a deep breath. Harvey stepped forward and took the spatula from her as he set the folder down, flipping the pancake she’d forgotten.

“You want to go through it alone or…?”

“I uh…” she started, reaching for the file and pulling it closer. “Can we do it together?”

Harvey nodded. “Let me know when you have questions.”

Charlie leaned into his side, flipping open to the first page and glancing at its contents before looking back to her brother who was focused on the air bubbles coming up on the surface of the pancake.

“Thank you for your help,” she said.

Harvey hugged her with his free arm and placed a kiss to her forehead. “That’s what I’m here for, kid.”

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

#suits usa #suits fanfic #suits fanfiction #harvey specter #specter!sister #lines to live by #charlie specter #100 follower thank you

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peralta-guaranteed · 4 years ago

Note

Family day playing hooky hc

(this turned into another fic. Apparently I don't make the rules anymore)

Read on AO3

It's the beginning of a long summer. Both kids are home - well, not really, since Amy has signed them up for several activities all around the city. Today is arts & crafts time at the children's library wing, Jake notes as he checks their shared calendar before the morning meeting. But they are home, insofar as Mac's school is closed for the summer holidays, and so's Maya's kindergarten. They drop them off at their daily activity in the morning, and the rest of the time they're at his mom's, who's been happily overfeeding them and entertaining them as the proud grandma she is. Or they drop them off at Gramma Peralta’s first, and she drives them to whatever place they were signed up at. It's a pretty good routine, and he's proud of Amy having found so many things for them to do that seem right up their alley, judging from their excited stories during dinner and the ever growing collection of handmade gifts on their living room shelves.

But they're home for the summer, and Jake and Amy have to sit at the sweltering precinct, slogging through paperwork and a dull week of almost no new cases. It's really not fair, Jake thinks. He remembers his summer days with Gina, when Nana would hand them both a couple of dollars and tell them not to be home until sunset at least. They can’t do that, obviously - Mac and Maya are still too young, and Brooklyn has definitely not gotten any safer since his early teens, when it was already questionably sketchy for him and Gina to stalk around the neighbourhoods and buy cheap ice cream and soda at random bodegas. He also remembers those few rare days when his mom would get a day off that did not need to be spent on catching up on housework, or when his dad would finally show up for more than one day and they could plan a little trip (which would actually take place at least 50% of the time). He remembers the aquarium and the zoo and the natural history museum and Central Park and Coney Island.

And they could absolutely do that, he realises, so the decision is pretty much made before he’s even set his bag down at his desk. But he’s patient enough to wait through the morning meeting - blessedly short, because nothing new has come up anyway, and they’re all told to finish up the paperwork and start on re-organising the evidence room. Jake supposes it’s a generally good thing that crime seems to slow down in the summer heat a little, but that’s not really why he’s so happy right now hearing the captain tell them to ‘find something to do anywhere’. He certainly knows what he wants to do already.

Amy’s morning meeting must’ve been just as short, because she’s already at her desk when he jumps down the last steps of the stairwell to her floor. Her uniformed officers mostly give him a quick nod or smile as he passes - it’s not a rare thing to see Detective Peralta come by to visit his wife outside of break times.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.” He smiles at her, and she rolls her eyes with fondness. The title is still pretty new, and he loves to remind her of it any chance he gets.

“Hey babe. We’re not due for lunch for another 4 hours, you know that, right?”

“Yeah there’s no way I’m waiting that long.” He’s still smiling wide, and when she looks up from whatever paper she’s been filling out, she instantly recognises that mischievous glint in his eye.

“What are you planning?”

“Let’s bail the kids out of the library and go somewhere fun. Coney Island? It’s all open since last saturday I think.”

“We have to work, Jake.” Amy levels him with one of those ‘please be a grown-up’ looks, but she knows they seldom get results.

“Do we, Ames? Do we really? Because Holt has us organising the evidence room. I have literally zero open cases on my desk. And how far ahead are you with all your paperwork and organisation?”

She looks sheepishly at the very small stack of papers on her desk.

“About two weeks, I’d say.”

“And you’re saying we can’t take one day off? Just one day of family time? Getting cotton candy and taking Mac on an actual roller coaster now that he’s tall enough and winning a new teddy for Maya because you’re an ace at the fake shooting range?” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, and Amy stifles a snicker. It’s too bad her husband knows exactly how to win her over for most of his childish endeavours.

“I guess it wouldn’t be so bad to take some personal time right now. We’d still have to convince Holt-”

“On it.” Jake slaps her desk in excitement as he gets up, ready to race upstairs and sweet-talk Holt into giving them the day off (or rather, annoy him into it). Only Amy Santiago would request permission from her boss to play hooky, of course, but there’s no way he’s not going to indulge her.

It’s not even fifteen minutes later that he’s back downstairs, his bag already on his shoulder, almost pulling her out of her chair.

“Got the go-ahead, so let’s go!”

“Give me five minutes at least to brief Gary, and change out of my uniform before I leave.”

He sighs and thrums his fingers across his thigh, but obediently watches her talk to her ‘own Amy’, eagerly taking notes about the few things they actually have to remember to do. He refrains from pushing her forwards by the shoulders as she heads to the locker room, deciding to pack up her purse instead (he knows the layout perfectly by now - the calendar and pen goes next to the baby wipes, and the glasses case has to be by the little box of healthy, kid-friendly snacks). But the moment she returns in one of her signature flowery blouses, he grabs her hand and drags her out of the precinct so fast she can barely protest.

-+-

The drive to the library is equally as quick. Amy only manages to slow him down once they step into the actual building, reminding him of the library rules of being quiet and calm.

“Lieutenant Santiago!” The librarian behind the desk greets her - she’s well-known around these parts, obviously. “Back so early? Isn’t your mother-in-law picking up the kids later?”

He should probably call her to tell her about the change of plans, Jake thinks as Amy explains and asks if it’s possible to get Mac and Maya packed up and ready to leave already.

It’s absolutely possible, of course, and Maya proudly shows them the pipe cleaner and yarn figurine she’d just finished making as the kids librarian leads them out to the main floor. Mac, a few feet behind her, seems wary as he hugs them hello.

“Did something happen?” He asks into the hug, quietly, and Jake remembers with a twinge in his heart that the last time someone picked him up unexpectedly early from football practice, it was aunt Rosa, taking him and Maya to the precinct until Amy brought Jake back from hospital after getting knifed by a perp.

“No, buddy, this is a good surprise.” He hugs him back extra tight, ruffling his hair for good measure, and silently cursing his line of work being so shit sometimes.

Mac smiles back at him, luckily, but there is still a bit of hesitation in his eyes, and Jake’s excitement about his own idea of playing hooky falters for the first time. Maybe they should’ve just let the kids enjoy their crafts and grandma-time, and planned a proper day out for the weekend-

“Grandpa Holt gave us today off.” Amy explains as she steps up to the two of them with Maya by her side, and that title still sounds a little weird even years later. “So we thought we could all go out for a fun day at Coney Island!”

The squeal Maya lets out certainly changes Mac’s smile for the better, even as it is quickly shushed down (they’re still in the library after all!), and they’re soon dragged outside to the car by their kids the same way Jake had dragged Amy out of the precinct.

“C’n we get hotdogs?” Maya asks as she clicks her seatbelt closed and Amy smiles at her through the rearview mirror.

“We sure can!”

“Can we go on all the rides?” Mac joins in, and Jake is glad to see there’s absolutely no hesitation on his face anymore.

“All the ones you’re old enough for, sure.”

The questions and cheers and excited chatter keep up during the whole drive, even as Amy calls Karen and barely gets a word in, between the happy interruptions shouted from the backseat, and it takes a lot more to actually keep them together as they step on the boardwalk, Maya already running left to some game parlour while Mac races on ahead to the first ride he sees.

-+-

The rest of the day does not slow down in their whirlwind. Mac decides after three roller coasters that maybe he’s had enough (and Jake is glad they didn’t go through the food stalls before it), but he spins Maya around in the teacups ride like only an older brother could. The ice cream after is well deserved, seeing how sweaty and exhausted they are already, and gives them more than enough energy to hit literally every game they can see. Jake can watch Amy calculating the vast amount of money they’re spending in tokens, but she’s also the first one in line once they reach the toy-shooting range, winning Maya a unicorn plushie and Mac a knock-off superb-man figurine (his wife is a goddamn sharpshooter and he’d be lying if that wasn’t a turn-on). The third shot earns him a wacky pair of sunglasses that make both Amy and Maya giggle in that way he loves the most, and he refuses to take them off for any of the silly pictures they take in front of cutouts, wall art and weird statues.

He’s pushed them up into his hair by the time they get hotdogs (3 for him, 2 for Mac, one each for Amy and Maya), because the sun is already starting to set and he can barely see. Maya begins to shiver as they stroll down the quieter parts of the boardwalk, so he buys her one of those kitschy animal-hoodies all the stalls are touting (they know their clientele too well), and of course Mac immediately needs one too, so now there’s a tiny tiger and a slightly larger dragon running in front of them with cotton candy sticking all over their hands and faces.

Amy slides her arm around his waist as they slow their steps a little to let the kids go ahead, and he lays his across her shoulder as she leans into him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun playing hooky.” She mumbles, and Jake laughs for a second.

“Amy Santiago, are you telling me you’ve played hooky before? I am shocked. Here I thought I’d married an upstanding girl.”

He gets a soft punch to his side for that before she leans back and whispers.

“Actually, you’ve made me play hooky before, remember? But we didn’t exactly go to an ‘amusement park’…”

“And yet you’re saying this has been more fun. I see where I stand.” He pouts before grinning again, and leans down for a soft kiss. (He definitely remembers the last time they played hooky now.)

“Sorry, babe.” Amy smiles as she looks at Mac and Maya again, currently busy chasing each other and dueling with the sticks left over from their cotton candy. “But this has been such a great day.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna make for one hell of a memory, I hope.” He follows her eyes forward, thinking about that short moment with Mac at the library earlier today. Amy hadn’t heard it, he’s sure, but the look on her face as she pulls him to look at her with a hand on his cheek tells him she knows his thoughts well enough.

“Hey. No sad thinking allowed on such a fun day, okay? We had a great time today and we’re gonna have so many more great days in the future.” She’s still smiling, swiping her thumb across his bottom lip, where he’s sure some cotton candy is still left clinging. “We could take them to the zoo next week.”

“Santiago!” He gasps again. “Are you insinuating-”

“On the weekend.” She leans up to kiss away the last bit of sugar on his mouth. “Like the upstanding girl you married would do, obviously.”

He laughs into the kiss even as he pulls her closer, and it’s only Mac and Maya, running back to them with news of another stand they’ve discovered selling funnel cakes, that makes them break apart again.

-+-

Later, after Jake’s carried a sleepy Maya up to their apartment, and she and Mac have barely had enough energy left in them to brush their teeth and wash their faces free from all the grime and sugar that’s covering it, he falls down on the couch as Amy checks on them one more time to see both fast asleep before the lights are even out.

“Do you feel as tired as the kids?” She says in her deep, sing-song voice that sends goosebumps up his spine, just as much as her hand raking through his hair does as she stands behind the couch.

“Well, it’s been a pretty long day. But I do have more sugar in my system to keep me running, I guess.” He tries to sound nonchalant, but then she leans down to nip on his ear and ‘nonchalance’ is the last thing he’s thinking of.

“Then how about we save time between now and bed by showering together?” She whispers, and he lets his head drop back to actually look at her.

“We have never saved time in the shower together, babe.”

She only smiles at him while humming an M-hm before heading for the bathroom, and he definitely doesn’t waste any time following her.

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #peraltiago #amy santiago #jake peralta #mac peralta #maya peralta #fic #my writing

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aliceaddellheidde · 4 years ago

Text

Starbucks

A/N: This one is for HBC 24 hours surprise drabble challenge by @the-th-horniest-book-club

THEME: Conversations with a stranger.

WORDS: 937

WARNINGS: Anxiety from ordering coffee

PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston x reader (fluff)

DISCLAIMERS: I was in Starbucks once & ordered tea. 🤣 English isn´t my first language.

Gif from here

London was busy city. Always full of people and now your new home. You found surprisingly warm and sunny February Saturday as perfect time for walk. After two hours in streets you were craving something for boosting your energy and Starbucks across the road was exactly what you needed. You never had chance to go there, but heard about it from your friends, so why not try it? Easy in, easy out.

What you were not expecting was long queue and a lot of people already inside. Smell of fresh coffee and muffins hit your nose and you enjoy it until anxiety came. What to order? How to order? Do you have to say your name? You were standing there, playing with your shawl to calm down, when stranger in front of you turned around. „Excuse me, do you know what time is it? My phone died.” he asked with strong English accent. When you looked up you were face to chest with him. „Uhm, 10 am.” „Thank you.” He turned back and moved forward.

Few more orders and small panic attack later you found him holding your arm. „Hey, are you all right?” This time when you lifted your head your eyes met cerulean blue ones. And then you recognized his face. You were standing with Tom Hiddleston! And he was holding you. You opened your mouth but no sound came out. You looked at menu on the wall and back at him. „You need help with order?” he smiled. „Yeah. I never been in Starbucks before and have no idea what to order. What is good? Should I tell them my name?” You were rambling mess. „Don't worry. I can help you. I´m Tom.” „Y/N.” You said. „What would you like? Coffee, tea, smoothie, chocolate? Something to eat?” „Coffee. But they have so much possibilities. How am I supposed to choose only one,” You sighted. Tom let go of you with thoughtful expression and his thumb and index finger were caressing his chin. You followed their movements with your eyes and small part of your brain was thinking how they would feel against your skin. „I´d say you can appreciate something sweet like you.” Tom said and your cheeks got hot and he smirked. „Ok, I´ll risk it.” You smile a little. „Trust me.” „Do you always pay for stranger´s coffee?” He grinned. „Only if it´s beautiful woman with interesting accent.” „You're a charmer.” „Yes, Yes I am. Tell me, how´s that you never try Starbucks?” „I'm not really a coffee drinker. Only when I´m in mood.” „More of tea person?” „Meh. Water is the best.” „What´s so special about today that it deserve a coffee?” „I'm just tired a bit and need something to function properly.” He chuckled and you moved forward. Two more people and you are in front of young man.

„Hello Jamie.” „Hi Tom. What can I get you this time?” „Hot, venti,, two shots, Caramel macchiato and hot, venti White chocolate mocha.” „With rice milk, please.” You said and looked back to floor. „Extra foam on both, please.” „Sure thing. Here or to go?” Tom looked at you and back at Jamie. „To go.” „Excellent. That will be 6,85 £.” Tom took out his wallet and paid before you could stop him. „Have a nice day you two.” Jamie smiled at them and you followed Tom as lost puppy.

„So, what's your plan today?” „I don’t really know. Hyde park or some museum maybe. Why?” „Mind if I join you?” You were thinking about it. How often do people have chance to meet their favourite actor and he pays for their coffee? You decided you will take that opportunity with all it has. „Nope.” You smiled at him. „Maybe we can try Natural history museum. If you want to go. It´s close” „Sure.” He walked to black Jaguar. „I'm not going in car with stranger.” He looked at you. „I'm not a stranger any more. Or am I?” „We only know each other´s names.” „Lets us make friends then.” You started walking in direction of museum.

„You really don’t know who I am?” „I know you are an actor, my favourite actually, but I don’t know you in person.” You were surprised with how much ease you were talking to him. „What would you like to know?” „Everything.” You both laughed at yours eagerness. „We can play 20 questions.” „I will start. What brings you to London?” „Work with better payment.” „And you work as … ?” „Interior decorator.” „You can draw me new house if I ask?” „No.” You snorted. „That's interior designer. I´m making places nice and colourful.” „Oh, my mistake.” „Its ok. People often confuse those two jobs. What would you be if not an actor?” „Cowboy.” he laughed and then asked one more question right before you walked in the museum.

After long six hours you were parting our ways. „Can I take you on proper date next time?” he asked suddenly. „You don’t have to say yes. I just had great time with you and … .” „Sure.” you interrupted him. „Really? Oh god, thank you! Can I have your number?” He gave you his phone and you added yourself there and handed it back. „I´ll walk you to your station.” „You don’t have to.” „I insist.” „Fine.” He linked your arms and smiled at you happily.

After 20 minutes walk in peaceful silence you stopped in front of the door to the underground. He hugged you lightly and you quickly kissed his cheek and with cheeky grin ran down the stairs for your tube.

#the th horniest book club #th hbc #th hbc theme days #tom hiddelson #hbc 24 hour surprise drabble challenge #hbc conversations with stranger drabbles

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tuiccim · 5 years ago

Text

Santi (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 4430

Warnings: Fluff, flirt,

Summary: The team leaves for a mission leaving you and Bucky alone at the tower.

Santi Masterlist

After bidding the team goodbye the next morning you and Bucky head to the kitchen for breakfast.

"How was your first night in the new place?"

"Good. Slept okay. How'd you sleep?"

"I have a hard time getting to sleep any given day but once I did last night I was good."

In the kitchen you pull out a frozen breakfast burrito to heat and grab an apple and peanut butter. Bucky fixes a huge bowl of cereal.

"Why aren't you on the mission?" Bucky asks.

"You want the official answer or the truth?" You ask.

"The truth, always."

"Steve didn't want you to be alone so he asked me to stay."

"You were okay with that?"

"Well, you know, my 'particular skills are not needed for this mission'" You say imitating Steve.

"You don't mind being my babysitter?"

"Well, first, I'm not your babysitter. You're a big boy and can wipe your butt all by yourself. Second, I don't mind having some time to take it easy. It's usually hard to come by. And, lastly, the rest of the team has worked with you before. I like that it gives me the chance to get to know you. Not the file or news reports or rumors, but you as a person." Bucky seems taken aback by your answer. "You said you wanted the truth, always." You smile and Bucky seems to relax a bit.

"Thanks." He pauses for a minute but then smirks, "Wipe my own butt? You always had that mouth on ya?"

"All my life." You smile at him.

"Apple and peanut butter?" Bucky asks as he watches you eat.

"It's delicious!" You pick up a fresh slice, scoop some peanut butter onto it. Leaning over the table you hold it up for Bucky to take a bite. "Try it." He eyes you as he bites into the slice you are holding out to him.

"Okay. Weird but good "

You giggle at his expression and pop the other half into your mouth.

"Are you always happy like this? You always seem to be on the verge of laughing." He asks suddenly.

"No. But, I don't know, I guess I've had the privilege of living my life unlike you and Steve. It's given me the time to work through things, figure out what makes me happy. I guess I've just lived long enough to learn contentment. And I think that's the basis of happiness."

"Lived long enough? You're what? 25? 30?"

Your face falls. "You haven't read my file."

"No."

"Have you read any of them?"

"No. It feels... invasive. Like I'm prying."

"It's not. It's just basics. Nothing overly personal. Abilities. Skills. Things you need to know in the field." You say emphatically. "For example, let's say we're on a mission. I get shot. Femoral artery hit. Bleeding out. What do you do?"

"Apply a tourniquet. Determine if I can complete the mission without you dying."

"Wrong. You just wasted time and possibly cost us the mission. You do nothing. I don't need medical attention." You take a deep breath, "I'm a Gifted. I have healing abilities. My body will force out the bullet and the wound will be repaired within 90 seconds. Blood supply restored in minutes. You and Steve heal fast but I put your abilities to shame there."

"Do you have any other abilities?"

"Additional strength, not your level but decent. Increased metabolism. Slow aging." You pause and look directly into his eyes, "And empathic telepathy."

"Like Wanda?"

"Wanda's a little different. She's more telepathic in the sense of reading minds and forcing waking dreams. My ability allows me, if I choose to, read people's emotions. And I can imbue people with emotions."

"Force them to feel things?"

"Ye...yes." You say hesitantly and then look him directly in the eyes, "Look, I have read your file and I know you've had your mind messed with enough. I will never, NEVER do that to you without your consent. Never."

You stare at each other for a moment before Bucky gives a slight nod.

"Is it helpful?"

"My specialty was deep cover. Being able to force trust, calm, caring. It makes getting to the inner circles easier. But after doing it for so long I had to get out. I was other people so much I started to lose myself. So, I told Fury that I wanted out. And then the world blew up and I ended up right back in the middle of it. I think I'm where I'm supposed to be now."

"How do you do it?"

"I just think it and I kinda push it to the other person. It's even easier when I'm touching them. If a person can somehow resist me mentally, once I touch them the resistance fades."

"What all can you make them feel?"

"Any emotion. Several if needed."

"Fear? Panic?"

"Yes."

"Pain?"

"Emotional pain, yes."

"Love?"

"Yes."

"Pleasure?"

You look at Bucky and raise an eyebrow at that one before replying in a low voice, "Yes."

"Have you done it to me?"

Voice strong again, "No. Never without your permission."

"Our teammates?"

"Only with their consent. Most people want to try it at least once."

"I have nightmares sometimes." Bucky says quietly.

"Yeah." Your tone softens.

"Could you calm me if that was happening?"

"I can, yes. I can also help you sleep. Do you want me to?"

Bucky stares into his bowl of cereal for a moment. When his eyes flicker up to you there is a tinge of red to them. He gives a slight nod. Reaching over you curl your hand around his wrist. "You're my teammate, my friend. I'll do anything I can to help you. Anything, okay?"

Bucky gives a small nod.

"Okay. Time to get some training in. Don't want Steve to think I'm slacking the first day without him." You start clearing your breakfast dishes.

"He's a real drill sergeant, huh?"

"Sometimes."

"Wait, how old are you? I take it, older than 25."

You laugh, "That's sweet, Buck. I'm 62."

"So Sam was including you in his geriatric patients?"

"I think you have to be over 65 to be in that category. You and Steve are still the geezers of the place." You smirk at him. "I'll catch up with you later."

"I'll see you in the training room in a bit."

"Sounds good." You say as you walk to the elevator. Your heart hurts a little for Bucky knowing it had to be hard for him to ask for help. You hope he knows how strong he is, how brave to ask.

Before Bucky heads to the training room he detours to his room. Going to the desk he pulls out the stack of files Steve had given him and quickly located Santi's. Flipping it open he read:

Name: Bella Santi Delarosa

Last known address: Stark Tower

Date of Birth: November 1, 1957

Place of Birth: Mobile, Alabama

Status: Active

Title: Agent

Aliases: The Saint, Lucia Roman, Marie Frances, Eve Lastra, Elana Romano.

Document Citizenship: United States

Height: 5'8"

Weight: 140 lbs

Gender: Female

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Languages: English, Spanish, French, Italian, Russian, Portuguese, German.

Identifiable Markings: Triangle shaped birthmark right shoulder.

Family: Parents, Marco and Giulia Delarosa, deceased. Brother, Luca Delarosa, deceased.

Classification: Gifted

Abilities: Healing. Increased strength, stamina, reflexes, balance, and accuracy. Decreased aging. Empathic telepathy.

Skills: Multiple forms of Martial arts, acrobatics, expert marksmanship, espionage, infiltration, tactical coordination.

Bucky closes the file and heads to the training room. He spots Santi lifting weights and joins her. "So, 'The Saint', huh?"

You laugh, "You read my file?"

"Yeah."

"That's what you took away from it? My code name?"

"Bella Santi Delarosa. Beautiful Saint of the Rose?"

"I was born on All Saints Day. My parents were Catholic." You shrug. "Any other questions?"

"I noticed the slight southern accent so Alabama made sense. Did you grow up there?"

"Until I was 13."

He wanted to ask what happened but knew it wasn't the right time to get into it. Deciding on a subject change, "Expert marksman?"

"You bet your ass."

"I was gonna bet lunch, actually."

"Knives or guns?"

"Knives."

"Yay!" You clap your hands as you move to the weapons cage to pull out knives. "Let's start with a target and we'll see if we need to get to trick shots to determine a winner."

Bucky glances at the body shaped training target at the end of the range, picks up a knife, and says "Right eye." The blade finds its mark with barely a glance.

"Left eye." Hit.

"Left shoulder." Hit.

"Right shoulder." Hit

"Center mass." Hit.

"Same." Hit within millimeters of his knife.

"Nose." Hit.

"Mouth." Hit.

Getting an idea you move in a bit closer as he says "Forehead" and aims. As he's preparing to throw you reach on tiptoe and blow in his ear. The knife hits the target's groin.

"I'm sorry. Did you say forehead or foreskin? If it was forehead, you were a little low on that one, weren't you?" You say still right next to Bucky's ear. Bucky turns eyes wide and swallows hard. You smile innocently up at him.

"Wouldn't you call that cheating?" Bucky's voice is gravelly as he stared down at you.

"I'd call it winning. After all, out in the field there's all kinds of distractions. You have to get used to them." You say in mock innocence with a sweet smile.

Bucky tries to keep a straight face but a chuckle slips through. "Fine. I'll give you this one, Doll."

"I accept your defeat. There is this great diner right by the Museum of Natural History. They have phenomenal burgers and then we can go to the museum."

"I thought the bet was for lunch."

"Well, I figured I'd take you to the museum as a consolation prize. After all, I did cheat."

"I'm not taking you away from any plans?"

"Those were my plans. Now, you get to pay for lunch though."

Bucky laughed and his heart warmed a little at the thought that you had planned out the day with him.

"Let's finish training and then we can get ready to head out." You say heading back to the weights.

Three hours later, you arrive at the diner and both order burgers and fries.

"Can I ask you something? Personal?" Bucky asks, glancing at you nervously.

"Anything. I'm kind of an open book. Which is unusual in this group."

"Yeah." Bucky says on a short laugh "What happened to your family?"

You knew it was coming at some point. "You want the short or long version?"

"Long if you're comfortable with telling it."

"Yeah." You pause to collect your thoughts. "You read my file so you know I grew up in Mobile, Alabama. My parents were Marco and Guilia and I had a brother named Luca. He was two years younger than me. My parents wanted more kids but it just didn't happen. We were a big Italian family. Steve always says he knows I'm Italian because I'm loud, always eating, and am touchy-feely."

Bucky laughs "Sounds right. You've never shied away from touching me."

"Sorry." You say feeling a slight blush creep up. "Please let me know if I make you uncomfortable. I just don't think about it much."

"No, I like it. Most people don't get very close to me. Keep going"

You smile blushing a little more but continue with the story. "My grandparents, my dad's parents, had a bakery. Most of the family worked there. I loved it. I had 8 aunts and uncles, a million cousins. Big, big family. Nice life, ya know. Lots of love and lots of drama. Then when I was thirteen, we were driving home from my cousin's birthday party and our car was hit by an 18-wheeler. My parents died on impact. Luca…" you pause and swallow hard willing the tears away. Clearing your throat you continued, "Luca died while they were trying to get us out of the car. He was such a sweet kid. Tender-hearted and quiet. I should have died too. My injuries were severe but that's when my mutation kicked in. Before they even got me out of the car my injuries healed. I didn't understand what happened. The doctor explained the mutant gene while I was in the hospital. I was so wracked with guilt that I lived. I didn't want to hear anything about it. Then my family… they were scared of me. I could feel it. They turned me over to the state. They didn't want anything to do with me. I was put in a group home and first chance I got I ran. Ran for nine years before SHIELD found me. They took me in. Taught me that my mutation was a calling not a curse."

The food came at that point and you both dug in hungrily. Bucky looked up after a few bites. "What'd you do the nine years you were running?"

"Petty theft, lot of trespassing, might have been a grand theft auto somewhere in there, and then I joined the circus."

Bucky laughed, "Serious?"

"Yeah. I got a job helping set up and take down for a circus and when they left I kinda stowed away and they let me stay. I grew up dancing and doing gymnastics, so they taught me aerial silks and rope tricks. I ran errands, took care of the animals, cooked, and eventually even performed."

Bucky narrows his eyes at you, "You're pulling my leg."

"No. It was the 70s. I'll show you some pictures when we get back."

"What exactly are aerial silks?"

"They're sheets of silk you use to perform contortions while kinda flying in the air. I'll show you one day. I still love doing it." Bucky still looked skeptical. "What?" You finally ask when his face was still scrunched up.

"You really have pictures?"

"Yes. Tell me about when you and Steve were kids." Trying to get the subject off of you for a minute.

You looked across at Bucky and saw a genuine smile on his face for a moment. He launched into a story and was more animated than you had seen before. It was endearing the way his face lit up talking about pre-serum Steve and their antics. He looked young and happy for a few minutes.

The spell was broken when the waiter delivered the check. Staying true to the bet, Bucky paid and then you walked to the museum a block away. You had already purchased the tickets online and went right in. It was only 12:30 and it seemed to be a slow Tuesday as you were nearly alone in every exhibit. Bucky was enthralled. He went from display to display pointing out observations, wondering at the discoveries, and fascinated with the history. Sometimes even grabbing your hand to follow him. You were enthralled by him. It seemed like for a few hours the weight lifted from his shoulders.

You stay at the museum until closing and then head back to the tower. Bucky talks nearly the entire way back about the museum exhibits. You thought your heart would burst that your outing made him so happy.

Heading to the kitchen you look in the fridge. "What do you want for dinner?"

"You pick."

"If I pick, we're ordering pizza."

"Sounds good to me. What movie do you want to watch?"

"You're not sick of me yet?" You smile, amazed that he wanted to spend more time with you.

"No! I mean, you don't have to watch a movie with me. I just thought, ya know, pizza and a movie. You had, uh, mentioned the Star Trek movie yesterday, so I thought maybe..." He trailed off.

"Sounds good to me." You echoed his earlier sentiment and he smiled at you.

You sat on the couch eating pizza and watching the movie. After a while you ended up shifting to lean into Bucky and rest your head on his shoulder.

"You okay?" He asks.

"A little cold. I'm sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?" You say, moving away a little. He doesn't answer. Instead he grabs his hoodie and drapes it and his arm over you giving a little squeeze. You snuggle into him. It's a little harder to concentrate on the movie enveloped by his warmth and smell.

After the movie was over, Bucky looked over at you, "Tired?"

"No, not really. You?"

"No."

"What'd you think of the movie?"

"It was interesting. I'd like to see the next one. Right now, I'm interested in seeing some pictures someone told me they have."

"Oh, yeah. Let's go to my room and I'll find them." You stand and stretch your arms over your head bowing your back. When you look at Bucky still sitting on the couch his eyes aren't quite on your face. You clear your throat ostensibly and his eyes snap up to yours while his cheeks gain a little pink tinge. "Come on, Buck." You turn away smiling to yourself.

You get to your room and find the photo album with pictures from the Seventies in it. Placing it on the bed in front of both of you, you skip the first few pages and flip until you find pictures from the circus. They're starting to fade with age, but there you are riding an elephant, another showing you contorted in the silks, one where you are surrounded by clowns, cooking in a tent, and a few more showing your circus life.

"You weren't kidding!"

"Of course not! It was actually a pretty fun time in my life. It was easier being accepted there. Once I got past being first of May."

"First of May?"

"Green. New. Takes awhile for circus folk to warm up but they're good to you once they do. They were like a big family."

"Why'd you decide to leave?"

"SHIELD. They could help me learn to control my powers. And to be able to use them for something good."

"What are these other pictures?" Bucky asks as he flips back to the beginning of the album.

"Oh!" You say in surprise. You reach for the album but Bucky is already looking at the pictures. Resignedly, you explain, "That was the last family portrait we took."

Bucky looks up at you sorrowfully, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have." He goes to hand you back the album.

"No, it's okay. It's been a long time since I looked at them." You point to the next photo. "That was my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary."

"Is that the entire town of Mobile?

"No, that's just my grandparents, their kids, and all my first cousins."

"First cousins?!?"

"Yeah, they were prolific. What can I say? My parents were picked on because they only had two of us."

"How old are you here?" He points to a picture of you holding a stuffed bunny.

"Three, I think." The next picture is you holding a baby Luca. You reach out and touch his little cherub cheeks but only feel the cold plastic covering the photo.

"You miss him?"

"Yeah. I guess you never stop. Losing a sibling sucks, ya know? They're the ones that are supposed to be with you through it all. You expect grandparents and parents to die, but your siblings are supposed to be there. Do you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I miss Rebecca."

"Sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up."

"No, it's okay. But I probably should get some sleep."

"Yeah."

Bucky gets up and puts the album back on your shelf. "Night, Santi."

"Night, Bucky." You say in a small voice.

"Hey." He waits until you look up at him. "You okay?"

You force a smile, "Yeah, I'm good."

He hesitates, studying you.

Finally, you give in to yourself. "Actually, can I have a hug?"

"Absolutely!" He walks over to you taking your hand and pulling you up before wrapping his arms around you. You put your arms around his waist and your head on his shoulder. After a minute you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead. "Sweet dreams, Doll."

"You, too." You say as you reluctantly let go. You change into a sleepshirt and get ready for bed. Knowing sleep won't come for a while you pick up a book.

A couple of hours later you feel your stomach twist in knots and a loud grunt issues through the wall followed by "NO!" Getting up quickly you knock on Bucky's door, "Bucky, are you okay?" You listen for a second but only hear another grunt. You knock again, "Bucky?" You say a little louder.

"Стоп!" Hearing the Russian word from Bucky made your decision. You turn the knob and walk in. Bucky is thrashing a bit on the bed. His right hand is clenched around the sheets.

"Bucky, wake up. Hey. Come on, Buck." You put a knee on the bed and lean over to shake Bucky. The moment you touch his shoulder he sits up. The knife in his left hand lands with a thunk in your side. You hiss at the pain but stay still. "Buck. Bucky, hey." His eyes are far away and you know he hasn't come out of it yet. You put your right hand over his hand gripping the knife and your left on his shoulder suffusing calm into him. "Buck, I'm calming you. You said it was okay. Look at me, darlin'. Hey, hey." You see his eyes begin to focus. Finally, he looks at you. "Good. Hey, love, I need you to let go, okay?" You gently nudge his left hand which is still firmly holding the knife in you. You see him glance down and panic blanches his face. Suffusing calm again you take your left hand and touch his face drawing his attention to yours. "I'm okay. I just need you to let go. Bucky, talk to me."

"I'm so sorry!" Comes out in a panicked whisper as he lets go.

"Bucky, I'm fine. Healing ability, remember?" You gather the ends of your shirt and brace to pull out the knife. "Mmmm...had to be a serrated one, huh?" You press the shirt to the wound to staunch the blood flow and look at Bucky. He looks shattered. "Bucky, everything's okay."

"I stabbed you." He whispers.

"Better me than anyone else." You give a humorless little laugh. You wipe the knife on part of your shirt and set it down on the nightstand.

"I stabbed you."

"90 seconds, Bucky. 90 seconds and I'll be healed. No harm, no foul."

"I stabbed you and you're laughing." He looks at you incredulously.

"What's a little stab wound between friends?" You smile but he still looks lost. "Bucky, another empathic part is I can let you feel how I'm feeling. Can I show you?"

He nods and you put a hand on his. "What do you feel?"

He looks in your eyes finally, "Calm. Caring. Worry for me."

"Exactly. I'm fine. Now, are you okay? You were having a nightmare."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." You pull him into a hug keeping your bloody side away from him. He puts his right arm around you and runs his left hand up your arm to your neck. Pulling away he looks into your eyes, glances down to your lips, and then back with an almost questioning look. It doesn't take empathic ability to know what he's feeling and your heart twists a little. You raise up a bit and kiss his forehead like he did for you earlier that night.

"I'm gonna get cleaned up. Can I borrow a shirt?" You stand up and that's when Bucky notices you had bunched your shirt up to stem the wound exposing your legs and a pair of peach colored panties.

Tearing his eyes away he stands up quickly and pulls open a drawer. "Yeah, here, Doll."

You look in the drawer and pull out a black ribbed tank from the top. "This will work." You say as you head into his bathroom.

Bucky watches you walk away thinking with the peach colored underwear it almost looked like you weren't wearing anything down below. He shook the thought away. Nice, Buck, you stab her and then ogle her, he thinks to himself.

You take off the shirt you are wearing and grab a cloth to clean off the blood. After washing your hands you slip on the tank. It comes down just past your butt and almost looks like a dress on you. A very short dress. Staring at yourself in the mirror for a second you can't deny the feelings developing in you. Bucky is...you can't even describe it. Beautiful inside and out. But too often your empathic abilities had interfered with real feelings. You had wanted to kiss him in that moment but the emotional charge was too much. What if that's all it was? The heat of the moment? It was too soon. You'd known him for less than 48 hours. Sighing, you shake off your thoughts and walk back out. Bucky eyes you from where he is sitting on the bed.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yes. See? No harm, no foul." You lift the tank up to show him.

He raises his left arm and touches your side. The cool touch from his metal hand breaks your skin into goosebumps. You cover his hands with yours and for a moment get lost in his eyes when he looks up at you.

Breaking eye contact you pull the shirt back down, saying softly "It's late. You should go back to sleep."

"I don't think I can." He says.

You sit next to him on the bed. "Lay down. Get comfortable. I'll help you."

He lays on his side and hugs his pillow. Running your hands through his hair, you suffuse calm and see the tension slip away a bit. Giving him a minute before suffusing lethargy, you watch as his muscles start to relax. Finally, you suffuse a sleepy feeling. You can't force sleep but have found that when these three feelings combine they make a fairly good sleep cocktail. Bucky's form slowly relaxes and you continue to run your hands through his hair suffusing the sleepy feeling until his breathing evens out. You retrieve your ruined shirt and bloody cloth from the bathroom and the knife from the nightstand. You don't want him to have any reminders when he wakes. Switching off his lamp, you reluctantly head to your own bed.

Part 3

226 notes · View notes

omniswords · 5 years ago

Note

Maybe 19 with Felinette?

19. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

leave me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a kiss! [CLOSED FOR NOW]

read more of the Fake Not-Dating AU here! this is a long one, but it explains more of how Félix and Marinette’s relationship was established… i hope orz

If there is one thing Félix has learned about Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng in the last year, it’s that she is horrible, abysmally horrible, at it.

It was easy to excuse away the first few times: they were getting to know each other better in a different setting, the internet or the messaging app could be unreliable sometimes, they were both plenty busy with their own affairs. But as the weeks—and then months—dragged on, he noticed the checkmark and the SEEN notification underneath his messages far more than the ellipsis that should have showed up just underneath it.

Perhaps that second date had been much worse for her than it had been for him, which was… awkward, at best. So perhaps she was trying to let him down easy, but was uncomfortable with being direct about it—no, that didn’t make sense. If the way she’d treated him when they snuck out on New Year’s Eve was any indication, she would certainly have no problem telling him outright that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

It’s not as though he’s desperate for her attention. Certainly not. He’d hardly consider himself desperate about anything; that would be too unbecoming. But it would have been nice to know, right out the gate, whether whatever it is they’re cultivating—whatever it is he’s trying to cultivate—is going to go somewhere or not. It’s not his job to ask. It’s hers to tell.

It’s been hours since his last message to her. Little more than a Hello and a Hope you’re faring well and perhaps a slightly spiteful I’m fine, by the way. He’s been checking their message history a few times, just on a whim—because he’s not desperate, just curious—and he’s about to give up hope and put his phone away for the night when his mother knocks on his door. She actually waits, thank God, and by the time she opens the door she’d never know that he was hung up over something so silly as a message from a girl. Or lack thereof.

Or perhaps she would. He’s half-scared of what mothers know.

“I was thinking,” she says once she’s closed the door and taken a seat at the foot of his bed, smoothing out his covers for want of something to do. “Since you’re on school holiday next week, what do you say we make a trip of it? Paris, Sunday to Saturday.”

To his credit, Félix tries so, so hard for her not to see the way he wrinkles his nose. “That depends…” he starts carefully. “Would we be staying with Uncle Gabriel?”

“Heavens, no!” His mother laughs behind a hand, but he hears her own spite in it, too. How she can only stand to be among the Agrestes as long as she has to. For her sister’s sake. “This is for us, Félix. I’ve reserved two rooms for us at the Grand Paris. Only the best for you, and for your own privacy, of course.”

Somehow, his cousin’s place just became more appetizing. And besides, what does she expect him to go around doing in Paris, anyway? “Mr. Bourgeois’s hotel?”

“I thought you and Chloé got along when you were children.”

“I didn’t like her, mother. I tolerated her.” Toleration is a skill, of course. That, and leverage.

“Well.” His mother gets to her feet again, claps her hands together. “Why don’t you start getting your things together and packing. I’ll set on train tickets for us. Nine o’clock, bright and early.” She kisses his forehead on her way out—even now, years later, it softens him at the edges—and he turns to his phone, face-down and unassuming next to his open textbook. He hesitates a moment, then opens the messenger app yet again, because, well, it wouldn’t hurt to check one more time.

Still nothing.

And yet here he is, stewing in his own bitterness, with hope after hope stacked against him, and holding onto the one thing inside him that says, maybe things will turn around.

Félix feels himself cave in, and types out one more message—hits the backspace on if it means anything to you.

To: Marinette Dupain-ChengI’ll be in Paris in two days. For a week. Whether or not you’d like to see me is up to you.

There. Now all he has to do is wait. As though he hasn’t been doing it all these months already.

Except in seconds, the checkmark notification appears. And almost immediately after that, there’s the ellipsis.

His chest goes tight. He holds his breath. Damns himself for it all, too.

From: Marinette Dupain-Chengreally?? when?we should do something when you get herei know it’s supposed to be valentine’s tomorrow but, we could still… hang out?

Félix sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose, and as he’s replying to her and pulling his suitcase out of the closet, he wishes he weren’t such a sucker for her.

———

He doesn’t understand it. All Sunday morning Marinette’s been messaging him, like a puppy waiting for its master at the door. What is she getting at? Why the sudden flip in her attitude? The fact that he doesn’t know is driving him half-insane, all through the train ride, and even as he’s unpacking in his room. (That is one thing he’ll credit the Bourgeois family with: they know how to set up a comfortable space.) He decides, in the end, that she’s the desperate one—even if he did agree to meet her early in the evening—and pushes all thought of her to the back of his mind when he asks his mother where she’d like to go for lunch.

Félix will admit that Paris is lovely during the day, and even lovelier without the obligations of an extended family or other people who talk with their wallets instead of their mouths. He and his mother don’t have to rely on itineraries—they’ve been here enough times, especially before his aunt, as they say, disappeared. It’s simply pleasant to walk the streets with her, to pop into the shops she’d like to browse and study the foreign-language books. To take tea with her in the afternoon while they watch the city from her window and, admittedly uncomfortably, to confess that he has plans to meet someone soon.

Of course it piques her interest. Why wouldn’t it? “Oh? Who?” she asks. “Adrien?”

“No, no. An… acquaintance, from that New Year’s party we went to last year. Do you remember it?” It’s not entirely a lie, but these little things are practically second nature to him at this point. Thank God she doesn’t ask any questions after that, simply reminds him to hold onto his room’s key card and to be safe, and it’s as he’s freshening up in his bathroom, one last time, that his stomach… flutters. Stupidly.

He’s certainly not nervous. Why should he be? If anything, he should be bitter. Is bitter.

Mostly.

By the time he arrives at the Galerie Vivienne, which is only a ten-minute drive away, Marinette’s already waiting for him; that’s the first thing that surprises him. The second is that she’s dressed up—well, more so than she was the last time they met. Her fit-and-flare dress is wine-red and sits off the shoulders, and she’s even got a small heart-shaped purse to match, and a small box in her hands. Her hair is down, too; he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her wear it that way before.

He doesn’t think he’s ever stared at her like this, either. Or at anyone.

Still, she seems awkward when he approaches her, doesn’t even offer her hand for him to kiss. “What’re you all dressed up for?” she says by way of greeting, and for some reason it stings.

Félix looks down at himself. Trousers, button-down, waistcoat; the only thing that really sparkles about him is his wristwatch. “This is how I always dress,” he says flatly, “but I should ask the same of you.”

“Because… I wanted to? Sheesh…” Marinette scuffs the heel of her ballet flat against the sidewalk, looking hurt; the way the words caught in her throat isn’t lost on him. “Come on… I know a place.”

He’s never been inside the Galerie, but it almost feels like a combination of a museum and a shopping center. He walks stiffly as he follows Marinette’s lead, noticing the things around him without really looking at them or taking them in. Eventually she takes him to a small bistro called the Petit Valentin, which seems a bit on the nose even for the fifteenth of February—except when he says as much, she scowls and pushes a menu toward him. He sighs, tries not to roll his eyes. He’s here to keep civil, he reminds himself, and if he didn’t really want to come, then he wouldn’t have at all.

They eat in relative quiet, talking softly to catch up. Marinette talks far more than he does, which he doesn’t terribly mind; it’s simply that he’s counting every opportunity she had to tell him these things in chunks, instead of unloading it all on him at once. If she’s offput by his hums and occasional nods and the way he so pointedly stares at his food, she doesn’t make it very obvious—only awkwardly sits back in her chair and looks around as if the conversation might have hidden from her in the corners. Honestly, he didn’t think the time they spent together could ever get any worse, and apparently, he thought too soon.

It isn’t until afterwards, when they’ve each paid for their half and passed by bookstores and postcard stands on their way to the streets, that Marinette stops him with a hand on his wrist. He tenses, looks to her out of the corner of his eye, and waits.

“I brought this for you, you know,” she says, holding out the box to him. She’s been safeguarding it all evening, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little curious as to what was inside. “Handmade and everything.”

Gingerly, he takes the box from her, undoes the ribbon wrapped around it and peeks inside to find several small chocolates, laid out on wax paper. He says nothing in response—only closes his eyes and presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and shuts the box again.

“What?” Marinette says. “What is it?”

“I don’t like chocolate.” He spits the words out, tries so hard not to crumple the box and to keep his voice even, because the last thing the second arrondissement needs is a scene. “You would have known that,” he adds, turning on his heel, “if you’d asked.”

Any other girl—any other person, really—would have let him walk away. But Marinette doesn’t. He should have known she wouldn’t. “That’s what this is about?” she says, tailing after him, her flats clicking harshly against the sidewalk. “Are you serious?”

“Incredibly serious.” He keeps pace just fine, weaving through people in long strides and not bothering to look back; he knows she’ll keep up. “Because, Miss Dupain-Cheng, somehow you’ve managed to perfect the art of contacting so little that someone should lose all hope in you, and yet so much that he should still hold onto some of it. You’d best learn to go one way or the other.”

“Félix—Félix, stop! Stop walking, Jesus—”

He does, still with his back to her, still holding onto that damn box, and she stumbles into him, panting and scuffing her heels. She catches her breath soon enough, and the first thing she says, in that voice he wishes he hadn’t come to adore, is, “Would you at least look at me?”

He does, begrudgingly, at the entrance to a nearby park. She’s got her arms folded, when he turns, her face flushed and flyaway hairs rebelling against her look. And the first thing he thinks—fool that he is—is that one year later, she still looks gorgeous in streetlight, and he still wants to thumb the wrinkle from her brow. “Very well,” he says. “What do you want?”

“I want to explain—”

“You’ve explained plenty.” He raises an eyebrow, counting the reasons—the excuses—on his fingers. “You’ve been studying for the baccalauréat and assembling your portfolio, as though I haven’t had A-Levels to worry about. You’ve been absolutely inundated in clothing commissions and helping your family’s business—because for some reason you assume that I fail to understand what that feels like. You’ve got friends. You’ve got a life. Had you never considered that there was someone,” he says through the way his jaw clenches, “who wanted to be a part of it beyond more than your own sense of convenience?”

The way Marinette bristles is almost palpable, makes half of him want to take back what he said. But if he didn’t, then what? He’d stew for the rest of the night? The rest of the week? “I…” She grips the chain strap of her purse. “I didn’t know if I wanted you to be part of it yet.”

Félix narrows his eyes. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Marinette squints right back. Even hurt, she holds her own; it’s admirable, really. “Félix,” she says slowly. “You couldn’t seriously expect me to fall at your feet in an instant and just not care that you’re my old crush’s cousin.”

He gawks. “That’s what this is about?”

“Of course that’s—” She sighs, exasperated, and drops her face into her hand. “You think I respect you so little that I’d just bounce to you and risk making you think you were sloppy seconds? Or worse, that I was just using you to get to him? I…” There’s a tremble in her voice, and now she’s the one who can’t bear to look at him. She probably can’t look at all, the way she’s wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I was waiting for the right time to figure out… to tell you that I liked you. I wasn’t gonna do it over text. Or in public like this. And I wasn’t… wasn’t gonna do it if you still had any reason to doubt me…”

Félix’s heart cracks. He doesn’t touch her. Doesn’t feel worthy of it. Instead, he says, like a complete idiot, “I should assume, then… that you used past tense for a reason.”

“It’s not past tense! Félix, I…” She balls her hands into fists, breathes out at the same time she releases them. “I think I should go home.”

He didn’t think, before now, that hearing Marinette Dupain-Cheng actually talk to him would kill him so much.

———

Félix turns in early—as soon as he gets home, in fact—and only chances one message to Marinette before he puts his phone away: Please forgive me. Good night. She responds within minutes—Good night, Félix.—and the perfect punctuation makes him wonder if he would have been better off with nothing but that damned checkmark.

He sleeps so fitfully that by morning he has the sense that he didn’t sleep at all, and the first thing he thinks upon half-waking is that Marinette Dupain-Cheng liked him. Likes him. Tried to give him no reason to doubt her, and he pushed himself into it anyway. Tried to give him the best circumstances possible, and he manipulated them the way he does with just about everything.

When his mother asks, over breakfast, how his “acquaintance” is doing, he says, “Fine,” in that hollow way that begs no more elaboration. Then he pushes the little box, tied up rather messily now, across the table. “I got these,” he murmurs. “Would you like them?”

It’s worth the way she coos gratefully, hugs him sideways, and kisses the top of his head.

It only takes a half hour or so of brooding at the foot of his bed, phone in hand with not even so much as a good morning, for him to make a decision he vaguely hopes is the right one. With only the brisk announcement that he’s going to pick something up and will be back soon, he walks with pinpoint purpose out of the Grand Paris Hotel, already punching the address to the Tom & Sabine Bakery/Patisserie into a rideshare app.

He bounces his leg in a backseat for all of twenty minutes, thanks the driver with a nod and a tip—hesitates—then pushes the door open, cursing the bell above it for announcing his entrance. Instantly, he feels like a deer in headlights, unsteady on his legs as the proprietors—no, Marinette’s parents, damn it—meet his eyes.

“Good morning,” he says with an uncomfortable cough behind his fist. “Might Miss Dupain-Cheng be around?”

Her parents look at each other, apparently just as uncertain as he is, and then back to him. “She’s right upstairs,” her mother speaks up, squinting at him like she’s seen him somewhere before but can’t quite place him. “There’s a side door just outside that will let you in. Are you a friend of hers?”

“Something like that.” He gives a short bow in thanks, doesn’t bother to give them any more chances to find the resemblances between him and Adrien, and with every muscle still stiff, he climbs the stairs up two at a time to their apartment. He adjusts his tie just before knocking, and his chest goes tight upon actually doing it, as though this may never have been the right choice after all.

The door opens before he can turn tail, and there is Marinette, swimming in an oversized sweater and some leggings, cocking her head at him as she clings to the doorknob and looks him up and down. He doesn’t want to fathom why her eyes are red-rimmed. “Why are you here?” she asks, slow with her words.

He thinks he can hear the invitation in them—the gratitude, the second chance—but he keeps his distance all the same. “I have something of yours,” he replies, flexing his hand in his pocket. “I wanted to give it to you before I lost the chance to. If you’ll take it.”

“Félix…” She sighs. “I really don’t want the chocolates back—”

“I’m not talking about the chocolates,” he says, and waits for the spark in her eyes that tells him the pieces have clicked together. He looks down at himself, his gaze lingering on his chest as his fingers brush his heart, and then back up to her. “If you’ll take it, it’s yours. If you won’t, well.” He clears his throat. “I’ll be on my way.”

“I…” Marinette hesitates, longer than he was expecting and yet somehow just the right amount, but he catches how she opens the door just a bit wider. “I meant what I said. Yesterday. And I haven’t told anyone else… anything. It’d be… weird, if Adrien found out. If any of our friends found out—”

“And whose business is it if you take it?” Félix asks, all breath and his pocket bunched in his fist. “Whose business is it, Miss Dupain-Cheng, if I let you?”

She searches his face, and he lets her. Her hand’s still on the doorknob. His hide away. “Fine,” she says, little more than a breath of her own. “Give it here.”

He steps past the doorway then, and gives her no more reason to hold onto it as he bends and gathers her up into a kiss. It feels clumsy, and his hands seize up with the urge to feel out everywhere they can—her hair, her face, up and down her back. But he braces himself for her to push him back… and she doesn’t. Instead, she wraps her arms around his neck, and lifts up on her toes to press into him, and moves one of his hands to her chest as if to say, Take mine, too.

He draws his hand back like he’s been burnt—he’s never touched a girl so… intimately… before—and Marinette breaks the kiss instantly. “Sorry,” she stammers, her face bright red. “Look, are you sure you want to—”

Félix doesn’t give her the chance to finish her question; he only kisses her again, nudges her back into her living room so he can try and kick the door shut. It isn’t until then that he realizes just how he missed her tugging on his coat and taking her own lead. And it isn’t until he seizes the opportunity to clumsily slide his tongue past her lips, the way he’s heard his classmates brag about, he understands just one more thing.

All of him is catching fire, and he wants, he wants, Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng to make that noise again.

#miraculous ladybug #felinette #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #fake not dating au #kiss meme #LORDT #OKAY THERE IT IS #KICKS MY FEET UP #Anonymous #answers

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lovinglokilaufeyson · 5 years ago

Text

Soulmate - T.H

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Warnings: Fluffy!Tom, AU, Protective!Tom, Fluff for days, Smut (at the end), Cheeky!Tom

Wordcount: 6,825

Summary: Tom Hiddleston is widely known as Hollywood’s “bad boy.” You weren’t known in Hollywood. Tom, for most of his life, was a gentleman. But for some reason, within the last 2 years, he’d changed. He slept with all of his costars, who hoped to be the one to get him to settle down. You’d been waiting for your soulmate for so many years, in your mind, he was nice, funny, charismatic, nothing like the man you met the day your timer hit zero.

A/N: I wasn’t sure really when to end this, so I kinda just ended it. But I’m sure if people like it enough, there’ll be another part or two :) Let me know what you think! It seemed a bit long, but I hope you enjoyed. It was a bit of a slow burn imagine.

24d / 6h / 51m / 10s

A little under a month before you were set to meet your soulmate, and your heart was skipping beats left and right. You did your best to keep your mind off of it, but it was so difficult, with your timer right in front of your face. You had gotten home from the grocery store, excited to make your breakfast. You turned on the TV as background noise, and heard some rambling about a new movie coming out. You rolled your eyes. Yes, you really enjoyed most movies, but unfortunately, some of the actors really got on your nerves. The snarky comments, massive egos, everything about them turned you off. It really did make sense why they always ended up together.

Yes, you knew that not all actors and actresses were that type, but the man they were gossiping about on TV? Definitely. Tom Hiddleston had started getting a reputation in showbizz about 2 years back, you remember. He started out as the nice guy, but for whatever reason, he turned into the jerk that slept with his female costars all the time. Sometimes you wondered if he even had a soulmate.

He was incredibly attractive, he had tattoos littered across his body, all of them being ones that he had gotten fairly recently. He wore leather a lot, with mostly blacks and neutrals in his closet. He just wasn’t at all your type on the inside. You, on the other hand, liked to keep things classy, with soft colors. You didn’t wear much leather, only once and a while. Some people felt that you were stuck up, but underneath that outside shell was a lot of hidden secrets. Your social media meme accounts, your goofy side, your somewhat strange sense of humor. Not many people knew that side of you, and you hoped that when you met your soulmate, he’d accept it. Hell, everyone had a weird side. Right?

22d / 3h / 45m / 8s

You had met up with your best friend and her boyfriend, Malik, for coffee. Malik was really good to Y/F/N. He was overall charming, handsome, hardworking, and intelligent. He was basically all you could ever want for Y/F/N. Although when you met him, you had to second guess yourself and your timer, because it felt so natural to be around him. But you’d never tell Y/F/N that. “So, how’re you doing, Y/N?” Y/F/N asked, taking a sip of her latte.

“I’m okay, I suppose. I’m really really nervous about this whole soulmate thing. You guys met nearly 5 years ago. What if he’s not right for me?” You sputtered out, rambling on a bit. You were really scared of the thought of meeting someone who really wasn’t right for you at all. You wanted something like Malik and Y/F/N, something genuine and compassionate. You looked at them hold hands and steal glances at each other. It was so natural for them. Their eyes lit up when they saw each other, and you’d hoped it’d be similar for you and your soulmate.

9d / 1h / 28m / 47s

You met up with your family roughly a week before your timer was set. Your mom wouldn’t stop talking about it. You almost thought that she was more interested than you were. But, you supposed that the thrill of her daughter finally being able to find her soulmate was exciting to her. Both of your brothers and your sister had each found their soulmates several years back. You were the only one without one. Even your cousins had found theirs without a problem.

Your dad wasn’t overly protective, thank goodness, he realized that everyone had a soulmate, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. Yes, it took him a little while to come to terms with his little girls finding their soulmates. But he got over it and realized that it was just a part of life. “Guys, Josh and I have an announcement.” She declared, standing up from the couch she sat on, Josh holding her hand next to her. “What is it, Kayla?” Your mother asked in excitement. “We’re pregnant.”

Smiles and joyous excitement circulated through the room. This was bound to make your mother the happiest woman in the world. The thought of becoming a grandmother was something she had dreamed of, she loved children. And since she was too old to have her own, Kayla being pregnant was an absolute dream. Her and Josh had gotten married about a year before, and met 4 years before that. They were slow and steady. Sometimes your mother thought that you’d be pregnant before Kayla. Yet here you were, sitting on the couch, yet to meet your soulmate.

2d / 4h / 56m / 9s

You had landed in Seattle mere hours before, excited for your weekend away with the girls. Cassidy had insisted upon it, even going as far to book the flights before asking anyone. You, Veronica, Cassidy, and Y/F/N were going to have so much fun on the coast. Crazily enough, with how everything was scheduled out, you were set to meet your soulmate either in the Seattle Airport or on the plane. Depending on how it all played out. The universe had a crazy way of flipping things around.

Cassidy had met her soulmate recently. You hadn’t met him yet, but apparently he wasn’t too excited to go a weekend without his girl. He’s a little clingy, she told you. Honestly, Cassidy’s comment about Rowan wouldn’t have bothered you if you had actually met your soulmate. But you had no idea what he’d be like. What if you didn’t like him? What if there was something about him, or multiple things, that you hated? You were scared of the thought. You enjoyed a weekend of shopping, going to the beach, and just having a good time with your girls. You had gone clubbing the night before your flight, which you had all known was a bad idea. But you went through with it anyways.

14h / 6m / 23s

You had to admit, the night was probably not a great idea for you all. But you needed some time to just unwind and forget. Forget that Kayla’s pregnant, that you still haven’t met “the one.” Forget about the stresses of not liking the one you’re supposed to be with for the rest of your life. You had enough to be buzzed, maybe a tad tipsy, but not enough to get you totally wasted. You didn’t want to be a complete mess when you met your soulmate. Maybe a slight one.

Veronica, Cassidy, and Y/F/N, however, were almost too drunk to function. You knew they were fun drunks, but you also knew that waking them up tomorrow morning would be a painstakingly slow process. You set an alarm for 8:30, hoping to catch a few more things before leaving Seattle.

5h / 34m / 2s

You were right. Waking the girls up was definitely more difficult than usual, but you knew that you should go and see a few more things, even check out a museum nearby. Veronica pulled her phone out after getting ready, scrolling whilst laying on the bed, when you suddenly heard her gasp. “Tom Hiddleston’s in Seattle. Right now.”

You giggled at her. She was so immature sometimes. You loved her, so so much, but sometimes you wished she was a bit more mature. “We should totally go meet him.” You rolled your eyes as she spoke. “I’d prefer to meet my soulmate.” You raised your eyebrows at her, a bit mad she had forgotten about such an event. She knew it was really important to you. “Shit, sorry Y/N.” She apologized. “Tom could be your soulmate. Seems like destiny.” She smiled, and you rolled your eyes at her for what seemed like the 12th time that day.

“I’d rather die.” You thought he was nice and charming. But that was before he started sleeping with all of his costars, treating them like shit. He had-what you thought were-completely meaningless tattoos, and he had such a bad boy look to him. You much preferred his preppy, British look his sported before this crisis of his. “Oof. Do you hate him or something?”

“No, I’m just not in love with the fact that he sleeps with anything that walks.” You frowned, looking back at Cassidy and Y/F/N, who were still lying in bed, silently listening to you and Veronica’s conversation. Though, they didn’t make it obvious. “We should go check out a museum or something.” You spoke, and all the other girls looked at you in confusion. Apparently they weren’t as into history as you are. Your heart ached, you knew you’d be meeting the possible love of your life. Most likely, anyway. For some, their “soulmate” didn’t work out. They’d try to be together, but it failed miserably, and they went their separate ways, in search for a new love. This happened very sparingly, and was pretty rare amongst humans. Usually, the gods were right. Most of the time. There was always headlines whenever it happened, but you had only seen 2 in your entire life. You hoped you weren’t the next.

4h / 21m /9s

You finally convinced Cassidy that meeting Tom Hiddleston wasn’t something you felt needed to happen today. That you were already too nervous from everything else, and you just wanted a little time to do something relaxing. “Fine, fine.” She spoke, raising her hands in defeat. “If I never get to meet him, it’s your fault, you know.” “I’m sure you’ll meet him.” In the end, you decided on going to a museum for a little, then to the mall to do a bit of light shopping.

2h / 10m / 54s

Now was time for your least favorite part. Leaving a place you had grown to love so much. You and the girls had bonded immensely over this trip, and you were sad to say goodbye to Seattle. You and the girls got through security fairly quickly, making sure you had time to relax and unwind, as well as charge up your devices before the flight. You stared down at your timer. 2 hours, 10 minutes, 26 seconds. It was nerve racking. Y/F/N noticed your slight panicked expression and rubbed your back. “It’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“I know, I know.” But in the back of your mind, you knew that you had no idea of who he was or how he’d treat you. What would happen if you hid in the bathroom? You knew something would make you come out. The universe had a weird way of doing things.

16m / 33s

“Hey guys. I’m gonna go freshen up.” You spoke, standing up from your spot. You grabbed your smaller bag, but left your suitcase by the others. They knew you well enough to know that you wanted to be alone at this time, and so they simply let you go alone.

“Alright hon, don’t take too long.” Y/F/N smiled, as you waved back at them, heading to the bathroom across the hall of the airport. You immediately went to the mirror, checking your outfit and adjusting where you saw fit. You saw a young girl smile at you when you complimented her Marvel t-shirt. It really was an excellently done set of films. You liked all of the actors and actresses- besides one. Smiling to yourself as you got closer to the mirror, reapplying a bit of mascara, as well as your liquid lipstick, which had worn off slightly since the morning.

You tried to fix every flaw you believed you had in that airport mirror. You were very insecure when you were young, and although you had grown, your self esteem still wasn’t perfect. You still believed the words your middle school bullies told you, at least every once and a while. But you shook off the feeling, knowing that right now was not the time for your emotions to completely take control. That was the last thing you needed.

You looked down at your timer. 5m, 2s. A light squeal came from your lips, which earned you a giggle from the woman beside you. “Timer close?” She asked, and you nodded. “Only 4 minutes left.” You grinned, and her smile got bigger.

“My son’s timer is going to hit zero soon as well.” You realized she spoke in a British accent, and you smiled. You loved accents. Hers was so adorable, you couldn’t help but admire it. “Wow, small world.” You watched as she washed her hands, and you looked down at your timer once more.

“Good luck, love. I’m sure yours will be lovely. Tragic it’s not my Tom, though. You’re very pretty.” You smiled and thanked her, hoping the best for her son and his soon to be soulmate. “Thank you.” You watched as she exited the bathroom, and you waited for a moment before doing the same.

23s

What you failed to notice, however, was the ‘Caution: Wet Floor’ sign that had recently been placed outside the bathroom. You didn’t expect it in the slightest, and tripped-almost gracefully-over it, managing to knock the sign over and fall. Straight into Thomas William Hiddleston’s arms. Your soulmate. Looking up at him, you gasped for a moment, before blinking several times, not believing your eyes. “S-sorry.” You apologized, pulling yourself up from his arms, as he looked at you in awe. Tom had been waiting to meet his soulmate since he was young, and he was a romantic at heart. He wrote poems and songs of longing, longing for his forever person, his soulmate. You.

You adjusted your clothes once again, knowing they must be disheveled from the fall. You put the sign back up, trying to make it more noticeable for others this time. Shaking your head once more, you made your way up the small ramp, leading you to your friends. “Wait up!” Tom called, rushing after you. You walked as fast as you could, knowing that nothing would ever be the same. You wanted things to go back to how they were before.

Unfortunately for you, Tom was 6′2″ and had long legs, making it easy for him to catch up to you within a few minutes. “I’m sorry Tom-I just can’t be with you. I know about you. I know what you’ve done with your co-stars. I don’t want to be apart of that messed up world.” Tears welled up in your eyes, knowing that you’d have to find someone else. Which would not be an easy task. “Please. Let me explain. I’m not that guy.” You looked up in his big blue eyes, sighing. It’s just a talk. Just a talk. Nothing more. “Fine.” You sighed, walking with him to the nearest Starbucks to sit down and have a talk.

After ordering your coffees, (Tom was a true gentleman and refused to let you pay for yours) you sat down at a small table, so you could look across from him. You noticed the timer on your wrist was darkened, almost black. You had heard of this phenomenon. The closer to your soulmate, the darker the color of your timer. It’d turn black when you touched them. “I don’t think you properly introduced yourself, love.” Tom spoke, holding his hand out for you. You grasped it for the first time ever, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the sparks.

“I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You smiled. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He raised your hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. Oh, he was good. “Thank you.” You smiled as he set your hand down, allowing you to take a sip of your coffee.

“I know that the media portrays me as a- um-” He couldn’t seem to find the words. “Womanizer? Player? Fuckboy?” You spoke for him, and what little smile was on his face before fell a bit. “Yeah, that. I promise it’s all for publicity. They told me that I’d be more successful that way, but I regret it all. I wish I could just be myself again.” He spoke, sighing.

“So, it’s all a stunt? You haven’t actually slept with the majority of your female co-stars?” You asked, your hand coming closer to his. “Never. I promise, I saved myself for my soulmate. I’ve been waiting for this day, my entire life.” He shrugged, showing a small, closed-mouth smile. “The tattoos?”

“There’s a select few that are real. The rest are temporary that they put on me, but I can choose to let them show.” He responded, and you nodded. “I do like leather though.” You giggled at his statement, remembering all the times that Cassidy was scrolling on Google, looking at pictures of him in his jacket.

Suddenly, having a soulmate didn’t seem so bad. He was sweet, and a gentleman. Good looking, smart, and funny. Although you didn’t like how the media portrayed him, it wasn’t completely his fault. He was trying his best, and Y/F/N was a screen writer. She had told you a few times of how stars were manipulated to be shown a certain way. You just chose to believe that Tom was a complete ass, but you were glad that you were able to talk and get to know the real him. “So, what brings you to Seattle, Tom?”

“My mom. She’s always wanted to come here. It’s our last day. I wanted to spend mother’s day with her here.” You nodded, smiling. Then, in a quick moment, you remembered the woman you met in the bathroom. “What does she look like?” You asked, and he described the woman you had met to a tee. You smiled. “What, my love?” You melted at his pet name for you.

“I think I met her in the restroom earlier. She told me that your timer was hitting zero soon.” He smiled. It would honestly be so relieving if you and his mom got along well. He knew that it was something he yearned for, he loved his mother very much and had hoped his soulmate would adore her too. “She’s very sweet.” Slowly getting off the topic of him, he asked what brought you to Seattle. “Weekend away with my friends. My friend Cassidy is actually a pretty big fan of yours, I’ll have to have you meet her soon.” He smiled. “But I take it you weren’t a big fan of me? With the stories and all?”

“I was before you went into your ‘womanizer’ phase. I really enjoyed watching movies of yours but then I heard about you and your co-stars and I kinda lost the feeling, you know? I did really love your classy style back then.” You smiled, and he nodded, smiling a little bit at certain moments in your answer. “I understand. The media portrays me horribly now.” You nodded, taking his hand in your and giving it a peck like he had done moments before.

“It’s okay. It’s your life Tom, you can take control if you so desire. I believe you are good, as well as so many other people.”

“Thank you, love.” He smiled, blushing a little bit at your comment. As well as your lips hitting his knuckles. “Where’re you going?” Tom asked, almost in fear. “My hometown. It’s called Y/H/T.”

“Can I come with you?” He asked, suddenly, but spontaneously. “Yeah. I’d love for you to meet my family.” You smiled, a small blush falling upon your cheeks.

“We’re going to go and talk to my mom, if that’s alright. Maybe you and your friends could fly with us in the private jet?” He asked, and your eyes widened, clearly not as used to this superstar ‘treatment’ as he was. You nodded, trying to stay as calm as possible. “I know it’s a tad overwhelming, love.” He grabbed onto your hand, intertwining it in his. You couldn’t help but notice how utterly perfect it felt. His hand was much larger than yours. Your timer faded black, and you smiled at it.

Although Cassidy fell asleep and you, Y/F/N, and Veronica had to drag her onto the private jet, you knew that she’d flip once she realized. Veronica and Y/F/N were relatively calm around Tom, although you kept getting butterflies in your stomach whenever he called you a pet name, or said something sweet to you. You and Tom’s mother got along marvelously, more than he could ever wish for.

Cassidy was restless on the other side of the plane, laying down on the comfortable couch. She moved around a lot when she slept, and you wondered how long it’d been since she talked to Rowan. Apparently he had made a big deal about her going out and drinking, although you were positive nothing had happened last night. You were sober enough last night to know. She ended up in the hotel room, in the queen sized bed next to Veronica. You and Tom were talking about so many things, to the point where Veronica and Y/F/N were almost sick from it. But they knew you were both just so excited and livid from meeting each other.

When Cassidy woke up, you could tell she was pretty much out of it. “Where am I?” Veronica immediately rushed to her side, and you were happy that Tom’s face wasn’t visible from where she was laying. “On the plane, Cas. We’re heading home at the moment.”

“Doesn’t look like a regular o’l plane.” She murmured, sitting up. She gasped, looking over at you and at the back of Tom’s head. “Did I miss it?” She pouted, walking up to you two. She was finally able to see Tom’s face and she gasped once again. “Tom Hiddleston!” She squealed, immediately enveloping him in a hug. “Hello there love, nice to meet you.” He smiled, giving her a quick hug back. She released him in a moment, looking back and forth between the two of you. “Are you?”

“Yep.” Tom smiled, grabbing your hand and pecking it. She swooned, blushing a tad. “Y/N, I’m sooooo happy for you!” She smiled, hugging you this time. “I told you he’s great!” She smiled, and Tom’s smile faltered for a moment, before returning. Remembering that he almost let his reputation come between him and his soulmate. He was so glad that you gave him a chance and let him talk to you. You were honestly all he hoped for and more. Shorter than him, which he found absolutely adorable. You piqued his interest and you were so glad that he had the opportunity to be soulmates with someone like you. Even when you were asleep on the plane, your aura calmed him as he watched you sleep. He was so enveloped in your and every part of your life. He was excited, yet nervous to meet the family of the one he loved. Even though maybe he wouldn’t tell you he loved you just yet; you had only known each other for a few hours. Not even a day. Yet he was enraptured all the same. “She’s beautiful, Tom.” His mom spoke from beside him, rubbing his back thoughtfully. “She is.” He replied, turning to her and giving her a charming smile.

“I met her in the airport bathroom earlier, you know. When she told me her timer was going off soon, I told her it was a shame she wasn’t going to be with my Tom. But things just had a beautiful way of working out. You’re both so lucky to have found each other.” Tom couldn’t help but think of how utterly nervous he was before meeting you. He could tell you were in a similar state, from how you reacted when you met him initially. His mom pecked his cheek, before the plane began descending into Y/H/T.

Waking up, you were flooded with messages from your mother. She knew that you had met someone who was going to be in your life forever. “Y/N, how are you?” “Who’s your soulmate?” “Is he nice?” “Is he handsome?”

“I’m bringing him home, mom. You, dad, and everyone can meet him a bit later. 6 pm?” You responded, and not a minute later she texted back with excitement. “Everyone’s coming over! I’ll make my famous lasagna.” She was clearly very excited. She only made her lasagna on special occasions, such as this. You smiled, not noticing that Tom was sitting on the other side of the plane, looking at you lovingly. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” He spoke, walking over to sit next to you. “Hi.” You spoke, setting your phone down.

“What’s making my girl smile? Not that I’m complaining that you are.” He smiled sweetly, making you giggle. “Well, first of all, I’ve got the soulmate of my dreams,” you replied, smiling at him as he stared into your e/c eyes. “Second of all, my mom somehow got all of my siblings to come in for a lunch tomorrow. To meet said soulmate of my dreams.” You blushed, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

The next afternoon came faster than you could’ve imagined. You slept at your parents’ house, not wanting Tom to arrive sooner than you to the family lunch. His hotel was a lot closer than your apartment. You got dressed in a simple sundress, a pair of brown boots, and a sweater-cardigan that covered up your arms, as they got cold pretty easily. You made sure to shave your legs and everything, you wanted to look nice on such an important day. You tapped your foot nervously, excited yet nervous for your soulmate’s first appearance in your family. Your mom was anxiously watching her lasagna, which she had gotten up at nearly 7 am to start. “I wish to know more about Tom.” She spoke, and you giggled in amusement.

“I know, mom. Soon. He’ll be here soon.” You muttered, and but a second later, you received a message from one Tom Hiddleston. “Hey babe, be there soon. Missed you so much last night.” God he was the sweetest. You hadn’t the heart to leave him on read, so you typed a message back to him. “See you soon Tom!” You’d be lying if you said that you were scared of relationships, or at least partially. Yes, your family was happy and for the most part, their relationship problems always worked themselves out, no matter how difficult. But you always had a “what if” placed in your mind. What if you and your soulmate didn’t work out? What if he hated you, or the way you looked?

The ringing of the doorbell shook you from your dreamlike state, thinking of possibilities for the future. The future always scared you. Even more so now. You hopped from your seat on the stool, hoping for the best. You answered the door before your mother got the chance to, and for that, you were grateful for. The last thing you needed was your clingy mother scaring away your soulmate before the get together even began. You opened the door, your eyes met with possibly the most handsome man your eyes had ever seen.

“Hi, Tom.” You managed to sputter out, and he noticed your nervous energy for a moment, before shaking it off. “Hello, sweetheart.” Instead of simply following you to the kitchen, his towering figure gave you a hug. Your frame was small in comparison to his, and you felt a nibble on your ear. “Care to show me around, lovely?”

You showed Tom the upstairs first, not wanting to interrupt any conversations happening throughout the kitchen, dining room, or living room. You lead him into your childhood bedroom, which appeared relatively the same as it was when you left it. The posters of Harry Potter, and some Marvel films littered the walls. You were a fan of Marvel, you liked the stories, you just weren’t fond of the actors in recent years. When you were younger you definitely loved every part of the franchise.

“So, my pet, you were a fan of Marvel.” He spoke, a dominant tone coming out. “At one time, yes.” You replied, and he nodded. He hoped that Loki was your favorite, at least at one time. “I loved all of them,” you continued, as if reading his mind. “But I fell out of love with the characters, as well as the series, when the media started portraying all of the actors so horribly.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “They did portray us as complete assholes.” He spoke, as you nuzzled your face into his chest. “You’re so adorable. I’m incredibly lucky.” He spoke, and you giggled into his chest. “Don’t you mean you’re incredibly loki?” You joked as a smile appeared on his face. “You stop that. Right now.” You giggled again.

“Y/N, honey, lunchtime!” You heard your mom from the bottom of the stairs. You began heading downstairs, Tom right on your tail. You suddenly felt his presence, but closer this time. His lips were so very close to your ear, and his front side placed oh-so-close to your back. “You have a fabulous ass, by the way.” He grabbed at it, and you squealed, nearly falling into the wall nearby. “And that, was adorable.” He pulled you into him, using a grip on your waist. You were unfamiliar with this level of intimacy. It was strange.

Walking downstairs with Tom following shortly behind, you entered the living room, seeing your siblings, their significant others, and your parents. Kayla was showing, just a little bit more than the last time you saw her. Her belly just barely bulged, but you could tell. Everyone turned to face you and Tom, the newest couple to the family. “Everyone, this is Tom, my soulmate.” You spoke easily, slightly scared of what they would think. You really liked Tom, and you hoped your family would to.

“Oh my gosh, that’s Tom Hiddleston!” Your mom gasped. “So lovely to meet you, Tom.” She found her way over to you two, bringing her hand out to shake his. “Lovely to meet you as well, Mrs. Y/L/N.” “Oh please, call me Karen.” Tom smiled lightly. “My famous lasagna is for dinner, honey.” Your mom spoke. “Sounds lovely.” Tom smiled once more. You introduced Tom to your siblings and their significant others, as well. Your father helped your mother in the kitchen as they prepared a wonderful dinner. You and your siblings played a board game before dinner began. You and Tom made a pretty good team in Scattergories. “Alright kiddos, dinner’s ready!”

Everyone headed towards the dining room, gathering at the dinner table. Tom sat next to you, and all of your siblings oohed and awed at the wonderful meal your parents had prepared. Your father helped with appetizers and dessert, and your mother prepared the main course. Everything looked wonderful. “Looks great,” Tom noted, praising your mother.

After a wonderful meal, you felt Tom’s hand on your thigh as you continued in great conversations with your family. Everyone seemed to be getting along well, which you were glad for. However, the gentle yet sensual feeling of Tom’s ginormous hand upon your thigh was a large distraction in this situation. It was odd, you had never felt this way before.

As Tom’s hand became closer and closer to your core, you became more and more heated. You glanced over at him, seeing the smirk upon his face. “Stop” you mouthed. His smirk became even more prominent, and his hand, at this point, had come to play with the band of your panties, his fingers twisting the skinny band of your pink lace thong. “Well, it’s getting late, I think Tom and I are gonna get going.” You spoke, standing up almost immediately afterwards. Because of this action, Tom was forced to let go of your panties. A glimmer of hope left his eyes, and you both waved goodbye to your family.

The car ride home was interesting to say the least, however, it was comfortable. Your apartment was more towards the downtown region of your town, and it was really cozy. You liked it a fair amount, at least. Tom dropped you off, and you hopped out of the car, saying a "goodnight Tom" as you did. Heading towards the entrance of your apartment, you heard Tom's car engine stop. You squinted your eyes, slightly confused, but continued on. You heard a "Y/N!" from behind you, and you turned around. "Yes?" You asked Tom. "Don't you think we have a bit of unfinished business, darling?" You furrowed your brows, looking at him confused as he jogged to catch up with you.

“What’s going on?” You questioned, puzzled. "Can I come in with you?" He asked, and you nodded slightly. You should be able to spend time with your soulmate, right? Though, you were slightly uncomfortable with Tom inside your less than luxurious home, you knew you would have to get used to it eventually. You were just scared, you supposed.Tom followed you into your foyer, which consisted of a small hallway, scattered with a couple of your shoes, and a staircase leading upstairs. After you took your jacket and shoes off, you lead him up to your living room. You felt Tom's strong hands on your waist as you looked around your living space, deciding whether or not to be embarrassed. However, Tom seemed far more interested in your neck than anything else at the moment. You felt Tom’s lips sucking intently on your sweet spot. “Tom...” you moaned out, and you felt Tom’s mouth turn into a smirk. “God you’re so beautiful.” He spoke, “take me to your room, please.” He never let go of your waist as you led him towards your bedroom.

You had never felt as intimate as you did right now. Though you were scared, Tom made you feel comfortable. Tom brought you upon your made bed, laying on top of you. Though you were smaller than him, he didn’t allow all of his weight to lay on you. “Tom” you spoke as he detached his lips from yours and nibbled on your ear. “Yes my love?” “I’m scared” you told him. He immediately got off of you, plopping beside you on the bed. “If you’re not ready for this, it’s okay. I just want to be with you as much as I can. Now that I have you I never want to let you go.” You smiled at his sweetness. “You are the absolute sweetest, Tom.” You kissed his cheek. You intertwined your hand with his as you felt your core heat up slightly. You were ready, you decided. He was your soulmate. There shouldn’t be a doubt in your mind. This time, you initiated, climbing on top of him and straddling his waist.

His hands came to rest upon your thighs, slightly underneath your sundress. You felt his hardened length rest against your thigh, as you felt Tom’s hands pull the bottom of your sundress upwards, and you lifted your arms up, completely revealing yourself to him. Your matching pink bra and pantie set was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Tom’s eyes widened, which confirmed that fact. He then allowed you to help him pull his shirt off of his torso. This time it was your turn to awe at his wickedly muscular chest and abs, which you were very impressed with. “Like what you see?” You heard him ask, and you nodded. “I love it.”

He flipped you back on to the bed, then continued undressing. This time it was his jeans, which were fitted amazingly upon his strong figure. “God Tom” you moaned out, and he let out a slight chuckle on your collarbone. You could see how prominent his bulge was now, and did not disappoint your inter fan girl. He detached your bra from your body with ease, and now the only thing left on either one of you was your underwear. Yours did much less to hide you, however, as the light pink lace thong left very little to the imagination. No wonder Tom had been completely all over them earlier that night.

Tom brought his hands down to his own underwear, where his prominent bulge was located. He released his member, and you eyed it curiously. Obviously, from sex ed classes, you knew what one would look like, but you had never truly seen one. It was fairly large, probably 7 1/2 to 8 inches long. You had no idea how that thing would fit inside of you. Tom slowly slid off your panties, which were the last piece of clothing remaining on you. “Are you ready, my love?” You heard him whisper. Though you were pretty turned on, there was still uncertainty. Would it hurt? “I don’t know.” You murmured. “I’ll get you ready.” Lowering himself towards your labia, he held your knees right over his shoulders as his face came into contact with you.

Jesus. It didn’t take much for Tom’s tongue to excite something within you. All of the sudden, you were incredibly heated, much more than before. You were immensely wet, your juices seeping on to Tom’s tongue. You didn’t think it was possible that you could be any more soaked. You were ready, you supposed. You were on the edge. Tom kissed you, giving you a taste of yourself on your tongue. “Taste good?” You nodded in response. “Okay, I’m gonna go slow, love.” You felt his tip on the brim of your hole, and he began slowly pressing inward. It hurt, but part of the pleasure hit you, just a little. “Ahh” you moaned out as Tom pressed about 2/3 of his length into you. It hurt, but as he began pulsing in and out, you felt the pleasure hit you more and more. It felt good, now. “You feel so good Y/N” you heard Tom whisper into your ear. You both reached your climaxes soon after that, it felt amazing. He peeled his sweaty body off of yours, laying beside you. “You’re so perfect.” Tom whispered into your ear, giving you a kiss on your cheek. You smiled in response. “I’m gonna pop into the shower real quick, Tom. I’m feeling a little sweaty due to, you know.” You spoke. You got out of bed, scampering over to your bathroom. “Love your ass!” Tom yelled from your bed.

You got into the steaming shower, allowing yourself to lather your body with soap. However, soon you were joined by Tom, who wished to wash off as well. You hugged his soft skin as he joined you, lathering his body in soap. Tom began feeling you up with soap, and you silently protested and shook your head. “Tom. Stop it!” You gasped as he gave a squeeze to your breasts. “No funny business.” You told him, rejecting his advances. “You’re right, we have plenty of time.” He noted, and after that, you two were quick to get out of the shower.

The rest of the night was relatively tame, with cuddles from Tom abundant as you laid in bed together. You felt completely protected by him as he spooned you and intertwined his legs with yours. Everything felt completely and utterly perfect.

Waking up the next day, you wondered if it was all a dream. Tom’s warm figure was no longer next to you, however. You were slightly scared, but wandering down your stairs in your silk robe, you found Tom in your kitchen. He was cooking up a wonderful meal, eggs, bacon, toast. You were so happy to see him. “Good morning, Tom!” You spoke gleefully, running up to him. “Good morning sweetheart.” He told you as he flipped the eggs. He turned around afterwards, giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You need any help with anything?” You asked, and Tom shook his head. “You just relax my dear. You can get yourself something to drink, how about that?” You immediately headed towards your coffee maker, turning it on so it would begin to brew. “Would you like any coffee, babe?” You asked, and he nodded gratefully. “That would be wonderful.”

You poured you each a cup, then grabbed some cream and sugar. You put some in yours, but waited for Tom to serve himself. You liked the sweet taste, rather than plain bitter coffee. Tom settled for a little cream and sugar in his as well. You felt his arms settle around you in a hug, sipping on his coffee. Breakfast was wonderful. You could feel everything settling into place. You had a wonderful soulmate and a wonderful future together. You felt Tom give you a kiss on the top of your head, and butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Everything was perfect.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x reader #alternate universe #tom hiddleston loki #hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston lemon

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gotmilk5101520 · 4 years ago

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Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia Watch Episode 7 To Catch a Changeling

How to catch a changeling for idiots.

“All right”

“Do your worst”

The Sword of Daylight. A weapon to kill trolls and cutting watermelon.

“What is this mockery?” Me seeing stupid shit.

“You want to take it for a spin?”

*Cries in Troll*

Yeah, no one will notice.

“Ridiculous garment” Agree.

“Sorry. Draal was training Jim”

“Draal?” “Training?”

“Yeah, he sorta made a home in my basement to look out for the place”

“Of course. When a troll is defeated in combat, it’s completely natural for them to take refuge in the victor’s domicile” So, this happened before?

And it’s gone.

“It was, eh... It was out of focus, and i did forget to turn on the flash” Once again, i went back.

And the flash was on.

Have some Jim is done with this bushigal face.

“I’ve not left the Heartstone in a century” This is what it’s like to be force to go somewhere, cause they say it’ll be worth it. But it’s really not. Wow Vendel is becoming the most relatable character in this series.

“I hate conspiracies”

“That is why i am dedicated to rooting them out” If Trump hired Blinky to root out all the conspiracies of him Blinky will end up making them worse for Trump. #LetTrumphireBlinky

“If it’s everyone, it must be a conspiracy!” I would say Donald Trump, but that would be insult to Blinky.

“Later”

“Oh, no. Claire”

“Claire? A changeling?” Changeling Claire au.

“No. When i thought i was gonna die, i wrote Claire a letter, too, and told her everything”

“Everything?’

“Everything” And what is this “Everything” you speak of? What did you write?

“There you are!” Mission: Avoid Claire. Mission Fail.

“You didn’t run into Miss. Janeth yet, did you?”

“Is she mad i couldn’t make rehearsal yesterday?

“Something kinda came up”

“Heh heh” Good of the episode to put flashbacks in for me, so i don’t have to do it myself. Also Jim implies that last episode happened yesterday (Out of universe, yeah it did) But i thought about it and today would be Monday, and yesterday was Sunday. Jim and Draal’s fight happened on a school day meaning that it was Friday. Jim and Toby getting arrested and Jim making the letters were on a Thursday, and Jim and Toby finding out about Nomura was a Wednesday. And then the school trip to the museum was a Tuesday.

“Steve filled in. That’s what understudies are for, right?”

“Uh, you haven’t heard?

“Steve isn’t the understudy anymore. You are”

“She’s tired of you never showing up”

“So she made Steve Romeo. And trust me, Steve isn’t happy about it either”

“As i was saying, every algebraic equation requires balance”

“Not unlike, say, actors in an ensemble!”

“For instance”

“Every piece of this equation plays an important role”

“That is, unless variable X”

“is a zero”

“X has no role”

“X doesn’t show up”

“X lets the equation down”

“Then, the entire play-”

“I mean, equation- falls part!”

“It becomes impossible!”

“Mr. Lake”

“How would you solve this mathematical problem”

Yeah i’m at a lost.

“Promoting Steve to Romeo wasn’t your idea. Plus, he’s been trying to leave” “Tell me about it. After class he told me off. Steve told me off. Steve. Of all people”

“And, honestly, i’d rather be on stage with you”

I’ve seen that face before. Marinette made that face, too, when Adrien touched her shoulder at the end of The Evillustrator.

New meme template.

“So, we find another changeling”

“Stop saying that so loudly”

“Do you mind?”

“Whatever” Like i said, his name is Changeling.

“Ailment or curse?”

“Oi, numbskull! I;m supposed to answer it!”

“But i already did answer it” Wait are Rot and Gut like one troll sharing a body or no?

“You’re gonna need a gaggletack”

“Unfortunately, you see, we’re a bit short on those. Very hard to get”

“But i got a bag of them right here”

“What in the world? If you’ll excuse us for one moment”

“Ey, what are you doing? I’m trying to drive up the price over here”

“I thought we were trying to help these nice lads” Rot doesn’t understand Capitalism. Good boy.

“Gaggletack?”

“Rare artifact”

“Exceedingly rare. An object of great mystery”

“It’s a horseshoe”

“Made of pure iron”

“Why would you put such a precious thing on a horse’s foot?” Great, what other things are “Rare artifacts” to trolls?

“Beware. Changelings are swapped with their human counterparts at birth. So, it is likely these troll-pretenders have dwelt amongst you for decades”

“They could be anyone”

“Used car salesmen”

“Tax collectors”

“Television executives”

“Donald Trump”

“Yes, especially Donald Trump”

Nope.

“Shall i hear more, or shall i speak-”

“Steve!”

“Hey! Who did that? And can i leave the play now?” “No”

Another new meme template.

Nope, nope, and nope.

“You, uh, try this out on Mr. Strickler?”

“Come on. You really think he is one?”

Yes.

So close.

“Here you go, Mr. Strickler. Here’s your horseshoe back”

“Thank you, Miss. Nunez, but that belongs to Mr. Lake”

“Oh. Well that would explain the flying horseshoes” Wait “Flying horseshoes”? You mean Claire noticed the horseshoe that hit Steve earlier?

“So not going to ask” Jim should look on the bright side of this. Claire touched the gaggletack, that means she’s not a changeling, and that the real reason she invited him to her house was not to secretly kill him. Oh wait. That’s not till later.

“Claire” “Still here” When people forget you’re here too. Trust me, i know that feeling.

“You’re still coming home with me, right?”

“Oh, right!”

“Claire and i are gonna go too her house... for math stuff”

Toby is surprised by how that escalated quickly. And it’s not even the second half of season 1 yet.

Series creator, director of The Shape of Water, and the man that said “Monster Fucker Rights” Guillermo Del Toro. Voicing a dentist.

“For the glory of Merlin”

“Daylight is mine to make babies ogle”

“He really likes you” Jim would be a great dad. Wink wink Claire. Wink wink.

“Wonder what he’s thinking about right now” “No idea what’s going through my brothers mind right now” “I’m going to get kidnapped next episode and you will never see me again for a long time. Goo goo”

‘Wow, this novocaine you numbed my mouth with is really strong”

“I can’t even feel my hands”

“That’s because i didn’t inject you with novocaine, dear”

“I hit you up with a potent paralyzer”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well, it’s not everyday someone comes in with a gaggletack” The moment i saw this.

“Why don’t i take that, sweetie? It’s not very hygienic” I knew she was a changeling.

“See, the equation only contains powers of X that are non-negative integers”

“Does that makes sense”

“Is it supposed to?”

“Nah. That’s why it’s called algebra” Algebra never makes sense. It makes Kingdom Hearts make sense. #ReplacealgebrawithKingdomHearts

“I realized you’ve got a lot more going on than people think”

“I do”

“I do?” You may now kiss the bride. Okay guys, Jim and Claire are married.

“You can’t just write a letter like this and not expect a conversation. If you had written something like “I’ve most likely been slaughtered by a troll” I would’ve said: Understandable, have a nice day” “Wait, really?” “No! You are lucky, you’re cute and everything” “I... Uh... It’s... Wait what?” “Nothing”

“You have to battle monsters?”

“Saving the world in which we know? What monsters are you battling? Are they fuckable?” “Well- Wait what?” “Uh... What monsters are you battling?”

Have some Claire being done with her (Not yet, almost, but not really, not for another season) boyfriend’s bushigal.

“I mean, we all have stuff we’ve got to go through”

“But are you in some kind of trouble?”

“I... Yeah! Metaphoric”

“I was...”

“In an exploring stage”

“Not successful” Let it be known that Claire thinks Jim has depression, if not suicidal tendencies. And i did not get this from the wiki or TvTropes.

“There’s some sentimental stuff at the end which i thought was... kinda sweet” Umm. Can we read the full letter? I want to know what he said.

“Really?”

“If you ever need someone to talk to about “the monsters” you can talk to me”

“It can be our secret” Yeah. There are going to be a lot of secrets you two will be sharing. Also, you two could’ve kissed here as well. But whatever you tried i guess.

“Halt, changeling!”

“Or else my giant friend will tear you limb from limb!”

“Maybe later” These things always happens.

“Oh, it burns!”

“Oh, it’s just a painting” Paintings don’t kill trolls confirm.

Huh. After an entire episode of using it on everyone, and making me think it didn’t work, it actually does work.

“What’s that?” “Laughing gas”

*Laughs in Troll*

“Laughs in Troll*

“Hello? Wait how did you get my number?”

“Hey! What’s up, Nunez?”

“Hey Colby”

“Someone named Woby?” Claire can’t remember Toby’s name.

“Fighting monsters again?”

“Who are you, Jim Lake” Claire is getting sus.

Imagine walking into this.

“Perish, you worm!” “Wait, before you kill me, i have something to ask. You know Nomura, right?” “Yes” “Well she has a history with a troll named Draal. Do you know what their history is?” “No, this is the first time i’m hearing about it” “Oh, okay. Thank you. You can die now” “You’re welcome. Wait what?”

“Do you have some magic artifact that can clean this mess?”

“Yes. I believe it’s called a Tobias” Translation: “Clean it yourself”

“It appears Nomura has gotten her way”

“Another changeling has been chosen”

“And look who it is” “Enrich? Enquran? Enquin?” “Oh, for the love of. It says Enrique!” “Oh. Who’s that?” “Claire Nunez’s little brother!” “Which one is Claire again?” “The one you haven’t met!” “Well no wonder i don’t know who that is. I never met them”

Anyone is a changeling. Maybe i’m a changeling.

So who’s the worst babysitter? Jim or Marinette?

#trollhunters #milk watches trollhunters #tales of arcadia

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