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garoumylove · 2 years

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Golden Hour Part 12

My fluffy domestic ♥️GarouxReader♥️ (from Garou’s point of view). In this part he takes you to the sea :) You can also read it on AO3 here :)

"Uncle," Tareo says as he sits on the living room floor the next evening. Kid's been looking dazed and confused ever since he came inside. He's got the mouse on the string but he's not really paying attention and the cat grabs it and goes full throttle, strangling and biting and ripping into it, having the time of her life.

You know, maybe we are more alike than I thought. This really is my cat.

"What?" I say from my usual place on the couch as I watch the sun begin to go down. It still disappears early enough but not as early as when we first made each other's acquaintance, me and her. I'd let the memories of the last months get the better of me if I was alone, thinking of her and all those times…

The tree outside is starting to block the light, the new leaves appearing every day.

"Uncle," he says again, as if completely forgetting he'd just said that.

"What?" I repeat. I'm getting used to this kid. My patience ain't wearin' so thin anymore. I could do this all day.

He's a good kid. I ain’t got nothing against him.

"I went to her house," he says, almost whispering, in awe, as if still not believing this good fortune actually happened to him.

"Oh yeah?" I can't help but grin. I'm happy for him. At least one of us is gettin' somewhere.

I frown for a moment, remembering my own fucking lost opportunity. So close. So fucking close.

I’ve been replaying that moment in my goddamn head since yesterday. Over and fucking over. Part of me is sure it would've all gone how I wanted it to. That it would be the start of something…good. But then another part of me doubts. What if she'd turned around and gave me a good fucking slap? I can't discount that either. I was ready to take some very big liberties and I wouldn't fuckin' blame her. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?

Anyway, back to the kid.

"How was it?" I say.

"Her house is nice," he says. "We played board games."

"Board games, eh?" I say, now there's a thought. I start thinking board games but then all my dirty little mind goes to is strip poker and then that image of her see-through shirt yesterday…and fucking heaven help me. No. Snap the fuck out. Back to this kid.

"Did you let her win?" I ask.

"No," he shakes his head seriously. "She's really good."

Yeah. That's the way. You don't let people win if you respect them. I'd fucking hate that.

I'm about to ask somethin' else, I don't remember what, when he just keeps going with growing exciting momentum now.

"And then her brother came and played too and it was really fun! He's so cool! He's the captain of the baseball team! And then we went to the park and he got us some candy and…"

And I ain't listening anymore. I'm fucking scowling, deep and mad. This fucking asshole again. Him and his fucking hair, and his fucking face, and-

"Uncle, someone's here!" Tareo says as the front door opens.

"Oh!" She breaks into an even bigger smile as she sees Tareo. "Hello!" She says as I quickly get up. "I just wanted to bring this back," she says, turning to me now, still with that bright smile, holding out my PE uniform, all washed and dry and folded neatly and smellin' so good. She shouldn'tve bothered. Ain't like I'll be ever using it again. I told her not to bother but she wouldn’t listen and just took it home with her anyway.

“Hey Delilah,” she says, getting down on the floor with Tareo, petting the cat while she purrs and meows. “You’re looking so good now!”

“She’s getting bigger!” Tareo says, his exciting story momentarily forgotten. Good. Because I don’t want to hear another fuckin’ thing about that baseball son of a bitch.

“Yes, she is,” she agrees, nodding. “She’s getting big and strong, because Garou takes such good care of her,” she says and looks up at me.

I feel…fuck. Why does she have to say things like that? It ain’t like I fuss over the cat or anything. I just feed it twice a day and…fuck. I’m just gonna go put this back in my room.

I head upstairs without replying. What is there to say? But the way she looks at me, like she knows she’s right, like she can see right through me…

Well, I have been trying to be good lately. Or a bit less fuckin’ bad I guess. I haven’t gone out skulking around at night nearly as much these last few weeks. I’m trying my best, I fuckin’ swear. Only when I really, really fuckin’ need it. And after last night, I feel like I’m really, really, really going to fucking need it tonight. This frustration is turning into a fucking monster that I can barely control anymore.

“Maybe I should learn karate,” Tareo looks up at me with this newfound determination when I come back into the living room.

I remember looking back at them, on the floor there, playing with the cat. And it hit me. Since when did my house become the fucking meetin’ place? Shit felt surreal. A few months back I would’ve been sittin’ here alone in the dark and the cold, happy with my own company, and now, the lights were on and they were here and I found it didn’t bother me. This fucking strange turn of events. Just crept up on me. And I found, to my infinite surprise, I wasn’t too fuckin’ bothered by it.

I don’t know what I was thinkin’ at the time. I was just trying to think of a place I might show her that she’d actually like. And that was hard because it seemed like our interests weren’t at all aligned. But then I remembered that little town and the house and it made me think of the museum and well… There it was. She told me later she was surprised at the time. In a good way. But also it made things harder because she was trying to not get too close. And then I went and did something personal like that, thought of her specifically. Said no one had done that for her for a while. If only she’d known the hours I’d spent with her on my mind. Life is ironic like that.

“Oh, what for?” Ahe asks, looking up from Delilah to him.

“Um…” he suddenly falters, his cheeks gettin’ red. “I…uh…there’s…”

I got you, boy. I got you.

“To be awesome, like me,” I say, grinning. “Ain’t no one going to mess with him then.”

“Well, it would be better if he could solve problems without resorting to that,” she says, raising an eyebrow at me but I ignore it.

“I like your initiative, kid,” I say. I won’t be the one to teach you but good on you.

“Really?” He looks up at me hopefully. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

But I ain’t really listening anymore. He can do whatever he wants. What’s it to me?

Hmm…Initiative. Initiative…

This has got me thinking. Maybe that’s been the problem. Why none of this is goin’ nowhere. I haven’t particularly done nothing so why would she even suspect that I’ve been in this sorry longing state for so long?

Fuck me, she’s taken me places and always seems to be the one initiating.

Of course. Fuck. Why ain’t I thought of that? I ain’t ever asked her to do something or go anywhere. I remember that time, in the beginning where she said I’d made it clear I didn’t want to see her. Fuck. I ain’t exactly made a huge improvement since then.

And now I’m just deep in thought. I gotta think of something, somewhere…

Think. Think…

I’m thinkin’ so hard I don’t even really hear the rest of their conversation.

“We saw Uncle’s teacher before,” Tareo informs her proudly. “He said Uncle was the best student.”

“Is that right?” She says, mischievous smile directed at me but I’m too lost in concentration. I ain’t exactly an encyclopedia of romantic ideas here.

“I can imagine that,” she says as Delilah climbs onto her lap again. “He’s very strong and very smart.”

“But he said he wouldn’t teach me,” Tareo suddenly looks downcast.

“Just give him some time,” she says, smiling kindly at him and then turns to me. “You know, I’m getting really curious now. I want to see you doing some karate, wearing that white uniform you wear.”

“It ain’t karate,” I say, a bit too distracted, not really taking in their words. But fuck. It ain’t karate.

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughs. “Whatever it is, it sounds like you were very good at it. Very talented. I would have loved to have seen you with your teacher, seen your dojo. It sounds really exciting.”

“It ain’t nothing,” I say, hoping they’ll drop this thing already. “Nothin’ to see. Just an old building and an even older fuckin’ man.”

She can see I ain’t keen on talking about it and moves on carefully. I feel bad. I don’t mean to be fucking rude. But I’m still thinking when-

Fuck. Yeah. That might just work.

She hands the last wet plate to me after dinner, Tareo long gone and I dry it for her.

“Oi,” I say, putting it down on the bench, all casual like, “what are you doin’ this weekend?”

“Going on a hot date,” she says, wringing out the sponge and washing her hands. She says it so naturally and so seriously.

Suddenly everything is fucking deathly silent. I can hear the drip of the tap on the hard metal sink. Time feels…heavy. I’m vaguely aware of how dark it is outside.

I find I forget what I was going to fuckin’ say. I wasn’t expecting that. I-

She looks at me for a moment but it’s like I ain’t seeing anything in front of me.

“Oh my god,” she finally laughs. “What’s wrong with you? Look at your face!”

I snap out of it. I feel something extremely fuckin’ unpleasant in my chest.

“Is that so bad? Are you that surprised that someone might want to take me out? I’m not that old,” she laughs.

But I just keep starin’ back, as if turned to fuckin’ stone.

“I’m not going on a date,” she finally says, the laughter dying down. “Seriously, I was just joking,” she says. “You don’t need to look so horrified.”

I force my brain to start working again, to regain its usual composure. She thinks I’m surprised that someone wants her. And that ain’t it at all. I’m fucking seething, thinking I’ve missed my chance here. Fuckin’ kicking myself. What the fuck?

I feel this sudden relief when she says that last thing. The anger cooling.

“I ain’t horrified,” I say, just as nonchalant as her. I really gotta get my fuckin’ act together because this time she’s joking but next time, who fuckin’ knows.

Where’s that fuckin’ initiative?

“You want to go to the sea?” I ask, just like that. Ain’t making a big deal out of it. I mean, the sea is pretty fucking close here but that’s not what I mean and she gets it. I’m talking about the wild sea. Not the thing here with the shipping containers and the neon lights.

“Yeah!” She says, genuinely enthusiastic. “Like a little trip?”

“Yeah,” I say, thinking of the hour-long, or just a bit longer, journey.

“That sounds fun,” she says. “When do you want to go?”

It’s early Saturday morning. There ain’t that many people around at the train station. We gotta take the train down south about forty five minutes and then a bus. Well, if it was just me, I’d walk that last part. But I gotta be considerate of my lovely company here. It’s in the middle of nowhere and ain’t the easiest road to get there.

“You picked a good day,” she says, looking up at the sun breaking through the sky, shielding her eyes with her hand and then grins at me.

“Yeah, well, I’m a genius,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets.

I’d gone out again that week. In the night. I tried to ignore it, to avoid it. I fucking tried but by Thursday, the memory had gotten the best of me. The memory of my dashed dreams.

I was careful though. No hits to the face. Nothin’ she’d be able to see, and I kept my mouth nice and shut about it.

I needed that. I needed to feel like I was in control of somethin’. Like I could still achieve somethin’. And then Tareo’s babbling story about that fucking baseball loser, well that was just fuel for the fire. It ain’t his fault. He doesn’t know but fuck. It all came together and when I got to my usual hunting grounds, there was just this one little group…and I just kept to myself, honest, but then they had to go and say some things my pride really didn’t agree with and well…You know how it is.

“Yes,” she laughs warmly, “yes, you are,” she says, taking a step closer to me as we wait for the train.

She doesn’t ask why. Why I had this idea, or why I was takin’ her somewhere. I get the feeling she sensed it would be better for me that she didn’t and she seemed happy to just be there by my side.

“It’s nice to get out of the city sometimes,” she says, tilting her head back a bit, letting the sunlight wash over her beautiful face, closing her eyes for a second and I take that opportunity to just stare. I don’t care who’s watching. It only lasts a moment. As usual, only the moment.

I think about her words. I guess that’s true. We used to go there in the summer. Every holiday. But to be honest, I hadn’t been to that place in years. Not since middle school. Or was it before that? I don’t remember. Some of those fucked up years just blend together. A fucking series of unfortunate events, gone by in a blur.

“What are you thinking about?” She says, catching me in the throes of unwelcome nostalgia. The way she says it, she knows somethin’s up but she’s too tactful to push any further.

“Nothin’,” I say, turning away to look down the tracks, just in time to see the train coming, feeling my fingers dig into my palms in my pockets for a moment longer before relaxing them.

“I think that’s us,” she says as the train approaches.

We sit by the window, facing each other across this flimsy little table.

Suddenly, she whips out a deck of cards from her jacket pocket.

No fucking way! Strip poker? Here? Well…I didn’t think she’d be that frisky but what the hell. If exhibitionism is her kink I’m all for it. I ain’t got nothin’ to hide.

“What? I mean…we’re going to be here for a little while. I thought it would be fun!” She says, shuffling the cards. “Want to play Idiot?”

What now?

“Eh…?” I narrow my eyes. Where the fuck is this coming from? “What did I do?” I say, unable to keep an even tone.

She snickers before the laughter takes over.

“It’s the name of the game,” she says, dealing the cards quickly, expertly. “Idiot.”

“I don’t fuckin’ believe you,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “You’re just toying with me there. If you want to call me an idiot, just fuckin’ do it,” I growl, not convinced.

“No, I swear,” she says as she finishes. “It’s a Russian game. My grandpa taught it to me. We used to play all the time. He learned it from a friend when he was young. And then his friend moved away and he had no one to play it with, so he’d teach it to everyone he met. He loved that game. It’s not that hard. I’ll show you Idiot,” she laughs so pretty and kicks me under the table and I can’t stay mad.

And yeah, turns out she was telling the truth. It is a real fucking game.

Fucking Russians eh.

“You’re good!” She says as she beats me, just, for the second time as the scenery outside flashes by. Mostly green and blue. We’re out of the city limits and there ain’t nothing but trees and fields here. Occasionally, cows.

“Again,” I say, getting all tense. I gotta admit. I ain’t a good loser. I just ain’t. I ain’t gonna be happy until I get at least one round.

“Anything you want, Wolf Cub,” she winks and deals again.

I don’t think I have to explain the effect of her sayin’ something like that has on me anymore. You get the gist.

I pick up the cards and rearrange them in order. This is a good fucking hand.

“I ain’t going easy on you,” I say, remembering what I told Tareo. Don’t let people fucking win just to be nice. Also, I respect her too much to do that.

“I never expected you to,” she says and bites her lip seductively, jokingly, but inside I’m fucking aching. Don’t do me like that, my love. I’m already this fuckin’ close to-

“Fuck!” I say as I look at the first card she puts down. Anything but that.

“Go ahead, give me your best move, big boy,” she says, leaning back, holding her cards close to her face like a coy fan, watching me intently.

Looks like she takes this as seriously as I do. I like that.

“I don’t know,” I say, half pulling the card out of my hand, grinning at her over the rest of them, “do you think you can handle that?”

“You talk big,” she says, leaning in closer. “Show me what you’ve got,” she challenges.

If only. If only you really meant that. I would show you. I would show you anything and give you everything. Everythin’ I’ve got. It’s yours.

We step off the train onto a deserted platform, the only two visitors at this hour.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here,” she says, looking around the trees, the grass, the barely paved road down there. “Lead the way.”

We walk down the road a bit to the bus stop.

“There’s no schedule,” she says curiously as she does a tour around the fading, rickety bus shelter.

“Nah,” I say, taking a seat, ready for it to fuckin’ collapse at any moment. “It just comes when it comes around here.”

“I can smell it,” she says as she takes a seat next to me, and now I’m ready to catch the both of us at any moment if it collapses.

“What? The bus?” I tease.

“Yes, Mr. Smartass. The bus,” she nudges me and rolls her eyes before returning to her usual gorgeous smile. “The sea. It smells different here. I know we’re close. Can’t see it yet but it’s close.”

These days I let her take whatever photos she wants of me. But I get to take them of her right back. Photo for photo. She said if we were going to be a thing I had to get a phone too because it was just easier and I wasn’t that keen on the idea because who the fuck do I have to call? But then turns out it has some uses. For example, I especially enjoy receiving her half-naked pictures at what might be considered inappropriate times. She knows I can’t resist having a look. Teases, torments me. But it always makes my day. And then I always have to respond in kind which ain’t always easy but I do love a challenge. The wonders of technology, eh?

Eventually, not too long later, it does arrive. It’s just us and a couple of old people.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing the edge of my sleeve and dragging me right to the back “That’s where the cool kids sit.”

“Oh yeah?” I say.

“Yeah,” she says, looking out the window, enjoying the countryside view. “I had to take the bus to school and it was always the cool kids down the back. And I always wanted to sit there, just once.”

“What? Are you telling me you weren’t cool?” I say, unable to keep the grin off my face. “I don’t believe that. You look like you’d fit right in here.”

She blinks at me for a moment.

“Me? Do you really think I had any hope of being cool? Me? Are you serious?” She laughs. “I was just happy to keep my head down and mouth shut.”

She says it like it’s a silly, fond memory now but I can tell it’s something she’s shut off. That she’s put distance between those years and now. A distance best kept up by humour and pretense.

“But I bet you were the coolest of them all,” she keeps teasing before turning back to the window.

I don’t fucking care. Who’s cool, who’s popular. All that fuckin’ shit. Just one more way to trample on others and make their lives fuckin’ miserable. I’d checked out of the social hierarchy long ago. It was never going to be on my fucking side anyway.

I glance at her again. Cool or not I don’t fucking care. I wonder how it would’ve been if we’d been in school at the same time. Would she have paid me any attention? Would she have joined in with the others who looked at me afraid or whispered as I walked by? I’d like to think not. I’ve experienced too much of her kindness to believe that. Or would she have just ignored me? Possibly. And the way she talks…sounds like there were people giving her a fuckin’ hard time too. Makes me wish I could’ve been there and taught them a little lesson, taught them to shut the fuck up and mind their own fuckin’ business. Or maybe she wouldn’tve appreciated that?

“The sheep are really cute,” she says, getting her phone out and snapping pictures of the lazy animals as we pass by. “Hey,” she suddenly turns to me, phone still in hand.

And before I can say ‘What?’ she’s already taken the picture. Fuck.

“Oi, delete that,” I say, none too pleased.

“Why?” She says. “You look good! See!” She turns the phone to me for a moment. I fuckin’ hate seeing pictures of myself. At least off-the-cuff ones like this.

“Delete it,” I say, turning away, a new self-consciousness growing in my mind.

“Fine,” she says, but it’s a bit too quiet and a bit too…disappointed. I watch her click her screen. “See? Gone,” she says, as if not minding one bit and yet…

I feel sort of bad and at the same time on edge. Did she really want to keep a photo of me? What for? Why? There’s this wild, rising hope in my chest. Why the fuck did I go and do that? I feel like I am indeed a fucking Idiot.

“Here,” I say as the bus rolls to a slow stop and it’s our turn to get off.

We stand in the middle of the deserted road. A black and white cat runs across, completely ignoring us.

“It’s so quiet,” she says as a warm breeze passes us and disappears into the newly green trees. “You can hear the birds.”

There’s just one main road and some smaller ones leading off every so often. The old houses are spaced out and most of them seem empty. Every once in a while they’re punctuated by a brand new one, sleek, all the glass glowing, reflecting the spring sun. The city encroaching even here.

“It’s busy in summer,” I say, remembering.

“So it’s like a little holiday village?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I say. I think the only people who live here all year round are pretty fuckin’ old. Or rich enough to not work judging by the new builds.

She closes her eyes.

“There it is,” she says, suddenly so relaxed, peaceful. “You can hear the waves.”

She’s right. You can. It’s just walking distance from here.

“So, where are we going?” she says, slowly opening her eyes again, turning to me.

“There,” I point up the road, up the hill covered in dense trees. You can’t see anything from here yet but that’s why I thought of this place. And to be honest, it feels excruciatingly pathetic now and I start to fucking regret all my decisions. I think back to the museum, the history, the fucking grandeur. What the fuck was I thinking. But we’re here now.

She looks like she wants to ask something but then changes her mind.

“Ok,” she says instead. “That’s going to be a trek. I want to get some water first,” she says as she spies the only store in this cobbled-together town.

We walk into the store. Its walls are made of wood and you gotta push open the door. To give you an idea of what we’re dealing with.

It’s the type of store that sells everything and nothing.

The old woman minds the ancient counter and seems so fucking happy to see us. We may be the first customers today, or since yesterday or even before that.

“Do you want anything?” She asks as she picks up a bottle of water.

“Nah,” I say.

“Oh, look!” She says. “They make bento!” She turns to the old lady. “We’ll be back for lunch too!” She says as she pays for the water and the woman is practically beaming.

“I could retire in a place like this,” she says as we walk past the last house and into the trees, the road turning into a narrow gravel path.

“I couldn’t,” I say.

“Why not?” she asks.

“What the fuck is there to do here every day?” I say. I’m bein’ honest. Yeah, this place is great for a couple of days but then what? What the fuck you gonna do? Count sheep?

“I don’t know? Go swimming? Garden? Just sit outside and enjoy the sun?” She suggests as we meander up the path in the cool, green shadows.

“My point exactly,” I say, not too impressed. Though who knows. Maybe when I’m as old as that old bastard in his dojo all I’ll want to do is sit around the garden all day. Who the fuck knows? Though I highly doubt it.

The elevation rises bit by bit as we keep walking. The path veers closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, the trees on our right thinning out until you can see the ocean.

She stops and I almost hit into her.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, staring at the horizon through the thin tree trunks, a light blue on top of a dark one, stretching out as if for infinity.

She’s got much more of an appreciation for nature than I do.

“This was a really good idea,” she says as we start walking again. “I haven’t done something like this in years.”

We stop again a few minutes later.

“Sorry,” she says, we’re getting quite high now, getting more of that view, of that endless horizon, the small leaves rustling above. “I’m not anywhere near as fit as you,” she jokes. “Give me a minute.”

“Want me to carry you?” I say, trying to make light of it but hoping she’ll say yes.

“What?” Her exasperation is palpable. “I’m not that terrible! Ugh…the humiliation. I can do it myself. What’s up there anyway?”

“A house,” I say. So fucking lame.

“Ok,” she says, as if that explains everything and we keep walking. It’s not far at all now.

“Wow!” She says as we turn the corner, the trees clear and the house appears. “Wow! Seriously! Imagine living here!” She says, looking out at the now unobstructed view. We’re high above the sea, the waves look so small and completely harmless from here as they roll in from miles in.

And then I think, wait, fuck. I only been here in summer before, and it was fuckin’ years ago. Will it even be open today? Shit.

She walks around to the front. There’s this old weathered information board explaining how this is a site of historical significance or whatever.

She stands there and reads through it and then turns to me, giving me this knowing smile.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s fuckin’ open-” I start, feeling mighty awkward when the front door opens and this older man with glasses appears.

“Did you want to look inside?” He asks, smiling politely but also excited like the old woman in the store. Seems they ain’t had any visitors for a while.

“Absolutely!” She says, excitement growing and grabbing my arm, pulling me up the porch steps.

This is a big fucking house. Old, very old, but big. The artist guy who lived here must’ve been rich.

The man lets us in and takes us into the first room, all these paintings on the wall, mostly of the sea. He starts talkin’ explaining about who used to live here and their life story. I ain’t really interested to be honest but she seems mesmerised.

When he’s done he says we can wander around and have a look ourselves and to ask him anything.

“This is a little museum, a little art gallery,” she says looking up at me with big bright eyes as he leaves us to it.

“Yeah,” I say, feeling something warm and deep in my chest with the way she looks at me. Suddenly so innocently excited, happy to be here. Her delight…It makes me fall in love even more. And it’s fuckin’ painful.

She walks around the room, studying each painting carefully. The light fills the room, illuminating the seascapes. She looks at the art. I look at her.

We make our way around the house and she seems as interested in the house itself as she is in the painting.

“Can you imagine living in a house like this? A century ago?” She asks, her voice almost this hushed whisper. “I find these kinds of places really…not magical. What’s the word? I don’t know…but there’s something special about it. Something romantic. I start to wonder about all the people who lived here over the years. It’s like…filled with stories. Does that make sense?” She asks, her face full of this wonder. “It probably doesn’t,” she adds laughing.

I never thought about it like that. To me, buildings have purpose. Four walls and a roof. It ain’t an interest of mine who lived here before and who’ll live here after. She asks if I can imagine living in a house like this and I start to imagine it. What if it was just us? Away from the city, away from everyone. Just us here. Us and the ocean. Imagine fucking with that ocean view. Now that’s romance, eh?

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when I don’t respond.

“About living here,” I say, trying to tease but getting a bit too lost in the thought.

“Thought you said you’d hate living somewhere like this,” she teases back.

“Eh, I can think of a few advantages,” I say vaguely.

“I like how they’ve really done their best to preserve everything as it was,” she says as we walk into another room, all the original furniture still there. “It really gives you a sense of the time.”

I don’t know how long we wander around and I don’t really mind. She seems to be rapt with the place and I’m glad. Feel like I did something fuckin’ right for once.

“This was great,” she says as we walk outside again, brushing her fingertips against the violet flowers growing wildly by the porch. “Thank you for bringing me…”

I can tell there’s something else she wants to say but still won’t say it, or ask it.

“It ain’t the museum or the Renaissance or whatever,” I mutter, caught off guard by her gratitude.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, soothing my doubts. “I loved it,” she smiles and then, with all the cheekiness in the world: “Better than any hot date.”

Well, suddenly my pride is fucking restored. With just a few simple words.

“Here, take a photo of me in front of the ocean,” she says happily, handing her phone to me and taking a few steps back. If I hadn’t been a fuckin’ clown she might’ve asked to take that photo with me. And I’ll never know now.

“So much easier going down hill,” she sighs happily, satisfied, as we make our way back down, the birds a bit louder now, sometimes fleeting in front of us, surprised by our presence.

“But where’s the fun in that?” I say.

“Look,” she says, “I know it’s nothing for you. I mean look at you! But I’m really going to feel this in my thighs tomorrow, and not in a good way, ok?”

I’d like to offer to look after and comfort her thighs tomorrow but it seems a little inappropriate.

“Hey, I said I could carry you,” I remind her. For a moment, or it might be my imagination, her cheeks turn that pretty rosy colour.

“And I said I didn’t want to be humiliated like that,” she reminds me. “I gotta work out more.”

The old woman back at the store gives us way too much food, way more than what we paid for and seems more than happy to do it.

“No, no! It’s fine! Please!” She says, trying to make her stop but the grandma won’t hear of it and just keeps going. Hey, I ain’t complaining. I’m starving.

Eventually we get away with way more food than intended and that’s fine by me.

“Let’s go to the beach,” she says, holding half of it in a plastic bag. “I assume there’s a beach somewhere here, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, pointing to one of the side roads. “Down that way.”

We sit on the sand, watching the water come in. High tide is just going out and each wave hits just a bit further back than the one before.

“This is so good,” she says, dipping her chopsticks into one of the open containers and then into the one I’m holding. There’s just too much here to divide like this is yours and this is mine. We just go at everything.

I agree but I got my mouth full so I ain’t saying anything. Just wolfing down as much of it as I can.

“And she probably made it all herself this morning,” she says, reaching over me for something else.

There are few things in life more satisfyin’ than a good meal. I can certainly tell you what they are but the point stands, there ain’t many.

She takes a sip of her water and holds the bottle out to me.

“It’s fine,” she says, sensing my hesitation. “It’s not poison, I promise.”

I take it. But it’s obviously not that bothering me. I feel every time we meet, we get closer. Ever fucking closer and yet never get there. This closeness, it just grows, despite everything. We get more and more comfortable around each other. We’ve seen each other almost naked, slept in the same bed, touched each other for one reason or other. She’s told me so many things about herself. Always closer but never meeting. And I don’t know how to close that distance and it’s fucking pulling me apart.

I still don’t know if I can experience happiness the same way she does. But I don’t give it too much thought anymore. I enjoy her company. Being around her does somethin’ good to me. Everything ain’t so dark and urgent and tense. I can just focus on the better things she gives me. On making her happy. She says I look happier these days. I don’t know how to take that. Maybe I’m just too used to my mind fucking with me and can’t see it myself and she knows better. Who knows. But life feels different. The world doesn’t seem like such a fucked up place most of the time. I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m fucking happy and ecstatic as my baseline, but I’m happy with her. When we’re having dinner, or just lying around on the couch, when she takes me to some new place she wants to go to or when we’re in bed and I hear her moan, call out my name, tangled in the sheets. That’s the happiest. And we’ve come back to this beach since, and made each other very fucking happy here too. That’s all I got to say about that.

We sit in comfortable silence, just the sound of the sea and the occasional seagull overhead. The breeze is somewhat less warm by the water but it ain’t too bad. The weather is on our side, the sun doing its best for this time of year.

Suddenly, she stands up and starts to take off her shoes, rolling her jeans up as far as she can above her ankles. I watch her.

“You goin’ swimming?” I say.

“Yeah man,” she says with a wicked grin right back at me. “We came all this way!” And she runs the short distance to the water, wading in, making this cute noise of surprise when the cold hits her.

“Fuck!” She jumps, turning to me, laughing her little heart out. “It’s freezing! Come! Get in here!”

“You ain’t making it sound too appealing,” I call back, grinning, just happy to watch her be happy. I don’t know if I can ever experience that myself but I enjoy watching her.

“What?” She looks at me very seriously, a challenge. “Are you chicken, Wolf Cub? Don’t tell me you’re afraid to get your feet wet.”

What?! Fuck no! I know she’s using that goddamn reverse psychology on me but fuck. That won’t stand.

I get up and do the same as her, striding into the water. And yeah, it’s fuckin’ cold.

“You’re so easy to get worked up,” she laughs, slapping me on the shoulder. “I love it.”

I guess she’s right. I ain’t exactly zen. Occasionally, I wonder how I would’ve been if this and that hadn’t happened but then I think, that’s a fuckin’ waste of time because I can’t change the past. I am what I am now.

“I bet this place is even nicer in summer,” she says, looking straight ahead, letting the cold water wash over her feet.

“Well, it definitely ain’t as cold,” I say.

There’s a pause, she takes her hands out of her jacket pockets, just lets them be by her sides, standing so close to me.

“How do you know this place?” She asks, the pause finally over. And I feel like that’s what she was wantin’ to know all along, but at the same time kind of knowing the answer and not feeling like she could ask me that, take me down that memory lane.

I think for a moment.

The waves keep coming in and then I feel the back of her hand, her fingers skim across mine. I don’t know if it’s on purpose or just the instability created by this unpredictable water but it’s there, her hand and mine.

“I used to come here when I was a kid,” I say, the brief feel of her skin in my mind.

She nods softly. Doesn’t press for more.

She knows me so we-

“You know,” she says, “it’s funny but,” she thinks of her words for a moment, still looking straight ahead, “I feel like I don’t really know you.”

I feel this unpleasant thing run through me, a fucking cold electric shock.

“I mean, of course I know you. I know you’re smart and kind, that you’ve got some things you need to work out,” she has this affectionate smile even though she’s not looking at me yet, “but I feel like I don’t really know much about you at all,” she says, finally turning to me. She doesn’t say it with resentment or accusation. Just this quiet curiosity.

I stand there, thinking and not thinking. Speechless for once. Processing this.

Is this it? Is this why I can never get any closer? I rage over it but in the end is it just my own fucking obliviousness? My refusal to have anything to do with the fucking world?

I don’t know what to say for once.

And then this rogue wave, bigger than the others comes at us and she yells and jumps out of the way, grabbing onto me, laughing, already moved on from her own words and my arms reflexively go around her waist.

We’re close. We’re so fucking close, standing in the cold salt water, pressing her inadvertently against my chest, knowing this moment will end very soon as she finds her balance again and pulls away.

And I think about all those times she asked me questions, tactfully, inconspicuously and I dodged and joked my way out of them. And here’s the result.

‘I don’t know you.’

Maybe it would be better if she never did?

And yet…

I keep a look out the window as the train takes us back. It’s not that late. The sun is still holding its own. She checks her phone, replying to a work email and I find myself getting restless. This wasn’t part of the plan, but with those ocean words ringing in my mind, I have to get over myself.

The announcement of the next stop comes over the speaker.

“Hey,” I say to her as she slips her phone back in her pocket. “We’ll get off here.”

She looks confused.

“What? Why? This isn’t our stop? We’re like two more stops away.”

Yeah, fuck that’s true. I don’t know how to explain.

“Just…come,” I say as the train stops and I start getting up.

She looks at me still confused but follows me out.

We’re in another part of town. A part very familiar to me.

“What’s up?” She says, sensing my agitation as I take us out of the station and proceed down the street.

“Nothin’,” I say. “It won’t take long.”

“Ok…?” She says and hurries to keep up with me. I don’t even notice how fast I’m walking. Part of me is telling me to turn right back around and go home but I’m fucking determined. I’ve listened to that part of my mind for years and now look the fucking mess it’s got me into. I gotta try a new approach.

We pass the houses and turn into a park. The sun begins to turn slightly orange.

“I think I’ve been to this park once before,” she says, looking around. “A long time ago.”

I say nothing. We’re almost there.

I take us off the main path, down a narrower one. It ain’t long now.

We stop.

“There,” I say, looking up at this place I thought I’d never see again.

“This is…” she trails off, quickly catching on, turning to me then back to the dojo, the white walls ablaze in the golden hour light.

She doesn’t ask but I say it anyway.

“You said you wanted to see it.”

This place. This fucking place. I remember. I remember all the fucking hours I spent here. Even when I wasn’t supposed to be there the old man let me stay. Let me watch all the other lessons that he thought were way too advanced for me. I remember prowling around here on the weekends when being at home was a fucking hell hole. I remember coming straight here after school, avoiding everyone and everything. Running sometimes. I scowl at the memory. I remember the old man, strict and yapping on about discipline. And I followed it all. Every rule. Every lesson. Putting my fucking all into it. And he never once, never fucking once noticed…

This fucking place…I fucking hate it. My home away from home. The place that kept me alive until I could stand on my own two fucking feet. And he never fucking noticed-

“Uncle!” I’m violently jerked out of my thoughts as the main door opens and Tareo appears on the steps in a white gi a size too big for him.

I’m as fucking stunned as can be.

First it’s him and then three or four other little brats run out right past him.

What the in the fuck…?

“Oh, it’s Tareo!” She says, waving to him as he waves back.

“Uncle! Are you coming back to train?” He says, jogging up to us.

“I-” I start, fists clenching despite myself when the old man appears, smiling like a saint down at us.

“I’m going to learn First of Flowing Water Crushed Rock like you!” Tareo babbles on, way too high on excitement.

The hell is this? I find myself glowering at the old bastard.

“This young man gave me an idea,” his mustache practically bristles with fucking delight as he nods at Tareo. “It’s good to have some new blood around here,” he says.

“We’re letting fu-...letting kids into the dojo now, eh?” I smirk.

I can feel her staring at me and I realise what the fuck I just said.

I’m not part of this anymore. Fuck. This has nothing to do with me.

This was a fucking mistake.

“Garou, I think Tareo is really happy to see you here,” she says gently, her hand softly on my arm, bringing me back.

I look from him to her.

“And so am I,” she says, the most tender smile.

This is it. I’ve done something right. Things are going well for once.

All these things flash through my mind. Her asleep on me, hugging me, the colour in her cheeks, wanting to take my photo…

This is fucking it.

Or so I thought.

Or so. I fucking. Thought.

#He just wants to be close to you #garou #garou one punch man #garou fanfiction #one punch man fanfiction #garou x reader #garouxreader #garou x y/n #x reader #one punch man #opm

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dilly-oh · 3 years

Text

Rent-a-Boyfriend

I need to get drunk, FAST, Kakashi thinks, taking a seat at the bar and signalling to the bartender. He wants to forget this evening ever happened as quickly as possible. He is never going on another blind date arranged by his so-called friends again - the guy they’d set him up with was some creepy artist with a ponytail who straight up asked to sculpt his dick, and when he politely declined, told him it was okay, size didn’t matter to him. Naturally, Kakashi’d dipped the moment the guy was distracted flirting with some other dude and scurried off to a nearby bar to drown his woes and seriously consider ghosting his friends forever.

Speak of the devil, his phone starts buzzing in his pocket, but he ignores it in favor of taking a swig of beer instead. He is NOT talking to them right now. Just because they all found love doesn’t mean he needs to as well, especially not with their ‘help’. They make it seem so easy, like he isn’t even trying. Yeah, right. It isn’t as if the perfect man is going to just fall into his-

“Oh my God, help me,” a man hisses, barging over and plopping right into his lap. Kakashi gets a faceful of long brown hair (which is quite delightful considering it’s wonderfully soft and smells like flowers) and has to repress a giggle as it tickles his nose before remembering he’s supposed to be in a bad mood. Nice hair or not, Kakashi is about to shove the stranger off when he twists around to look up at Kakashi with the most gorgeous brown eyes he’s ever seen, wide and pleading for mercy. A worried frown wrinkles his forehead, crinkling the faded scar over the bridge of his nose, and he bites his lips anxiously. Suddenly Kakashi will do anything for this man, including murder. “My asshole ex is here.” Okay, he was kidding about the whole murder thing, but he’s not above a firm talking-to. Maybe even a long-winded discussion about boundaries if need be. “Please, please pretend to be my boyfriend so he’ll fuck off and leave me alone.”

Kakashi blinks.

Pretend? Hell, he would love to actually BE this cutie’s boyfriend, where’s the application, sign him the fuck up. Kakashi almost says this aloud, but the desperate, almost wild look in the man’s eyes quiets his instinctual smartass remark and forces him to actually take things seriously for once. He nods imperceptibly and wraps his arms around the man’s waist, pulling him closer just as a douchey-looking guy with silver hair struts up, glaring at him poisonously.

“Who the fuck is this?” he spits out.

“Piss off, Mizuki,” the man in his lap snaps back. “He’s my boyfriend, obviously. Why don’t you go vape in the alleyway or something?”

“Bullshit. I don’t believe you.” Mizuki’s eyes narrow dangerously as he studies Kakashi. “...Prove it. Prove that you’re actually dating him.” The man stiffens in Kakashi’s lap.

“Don’t be ridiculous! He doesn’t have to prove anything-”

“Leave him alone, he gets enough stress from teaching brats every day,” Kakashi cuts in. The man jerks around in his lap, gaping in surprise for a moment before carefully schooling his face. “He was up late correcting papers again last night. I felt bad, so I brought him his favorite Ichiraku ramen for lunch and walked the dog for him. I even offered to play CoD with his little brother.” He leans forward, pulling the man closer to his chest protectively. “Now...why don’t you get lost?”

“...Fuck you.” Mizuki’s glare darkens even further.

“Fuck you, too.” Kakashi sends him off with a cheery wave that turns into a middle-finger once the guy’s back is turned.

“How the hell did you know all that stuff about me?” the man in his lap asks once Mizuki slithers away to lurk in the shadows. He looks up at Kakashi uneasily, almost frightened. “Have you been...stalking me or something?”

“Never met you before in my life,” Kakashi replies, then goes on to explain. “According to my friends, not only am I a smug know-it-all and complete smart-ass, I’m also incredibly observant.” He takes a deep breath and begins. “You have red ink marks on your fingertips, presumably from a cheap red pen. The only reason for you to be using one of those is if you’re a teacher, grading papers, and judging from the bags under your eyes, I can easily guess you’ve spent more than a few nights up late grading. You have a rather fresh stain on your shirt, ramen, judging from the smell, with a unique aromatic spice added to the broth that’s only used at Ichiraku - I recognize it, having eaten there a few times. I know you have a dog because there’s fur on your pants, but it’s too high up for it to be from a cat, so therefore it must be from a medium-sized dog, perhaps a Shiba-Inu going by the length of hair and reddish tint. And as for your brother, the cell-phone in your pocket has a case that is a rather unfortunate shade of neon orange. Given your fashionable outfit and kempt appearance, you’d never have picked it yourself, therefore it had to have been a gift, and a sentimental one at that. A parent would never have purchased something so ridiculous for you, and you wouldn’t actually use it if it was a gag gift from a friend, so it could only have come from a younger sibling, obviously a brother, who I assume is teenaged based off the practicality of buying you a case for your cell-phone instead of something silly or useless like a keychain.” He finishes in a rush and takes a breath.

“...Oh,” the man breathes out softly, his eyes wide with awe. Then he frowns. “Wait. How did you know about the Call of Duty thing?”

“He’s a teenager,” Kakashi snorts. “Of course he’s into fucking CoD.”

“Ugh, true,” the man laughs, relaxing in Kakashi’s arms, which he, admittedly, doesn’t want to remove. “God, is there anything you don’t know?”

“Your name and number,” Kakashi blurts out, then immediately wants to slap himself. What is he, an idiot? Hitting on this man right after he’s been accosted by his ex? That’s just...it was just-

“Damn, that was smooth.” The man leans back in his lap, looking him up and down, considering. “...I’d say you earned the name, at least. I’m Iruka.”

“Kakashi. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Iruka cocks his head and hums. “You know, it was kinda hot when you went all Sherlock like that.”

“My friends wouldn’t agree,” Kakashi scoffs, deciding his arms feel quite good where they are, as does Iruka. “Especially after I ruined Asuma and Kurenai’s surprise pregnancy announcement-”

“You didn’t.”

“I thought it was obvious! Her feet were swollen!”

Iruka laughs so hard he almost falls out of Kakashi’s lap.

Almost.

“Anyway,” Iruka says once he can breathe properly again, “thanks for pretending to be my boyfriend, I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure,” Kakashi replies with cheer. “I was more than happy to offer my services.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind keeping up the act until my ex leaves, or I do?” Iruka asks, nodding at the shadows where Mizuki is slumped over a beer, glaring at them. “What are your going rates?”

“I’ll give you a discount,” Kakashi tells him. “My only payment is you stay in my lap the entire time.”

“Deal.” Iruka grins wickedly up at him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and getting comfortable. “Although, as my pretend boyfriend, you should totally buy me a drink.” Kakashi grins back.

“Sure thing, babe.”

Maybe he won’t have to pretend for long.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Month 2021, Day Twenty-Four Prompt: Fake Dating)

#kakairu #KakaIru Month 2021 #Fake Dating #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #naruto #kakashi is a smooth mother fucker #but not really

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wandering-travesty · 3 years

Text

Call Me By Your Name

You weren’t sleezy. That was just a word idiots used to try and pull you down to their level. Yes, your hair was slicked back. Yes, your eyeshadow was dark as the night. Yes, your suit jacket barely covered your chest. Yes, your nails were painted black and sharp as daggers. But, no, you weren’t sleezy. You were dressed for your job. What was your job? Well, that was a bit more complicated….

“I need you to get close to him.” Erwin said coolly, stubble covered chin resting on his strong hands.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely hoping you had too much wax lodged in your ear canals.

“You heard him.” You met the glare of the midget standing behind your boss.

“Okay, smartass, I did. But you can’t be serious, boss! He’s beyond dangerous. Shouldn’t someone like,” you gestured in Levi’s direction, “one of the Ackermans take care of this? I’m not discounting myself or anything, but fucking with a Yeager is basically a suicide mission.” You were actually shocked Erwin asked you to do something so important. More so, dangerous. You weren’t exaggerating when you said it was a death sentence. You’d lost enough comrades to know that.

“Listen, he’s the key to taking down the Marlian Syndicate.” You knew that, but still, this seemed out of left field. “The Ackermans are strong, yes, but they lack a certain…”

“They’re not ready to whore themselves out. Just say that, Smith.” You understood now. The Ackermans were cold blooded killers ready to strike at any moment. However, they were awkward and completely inept at things like lust and heated and frankly revolting rendezvous. That was how he wanted you to get information for him.

Erwin wanted you to fuck the leader of the Marlian Syndicate.

“I wouldn’t use that wording exactly, but your assumption is correct.” Levi couldn’t seem to meet your gaze, but Erwin continued to stare straight into your soul. He was the leader of La Peste Eldienne (The Eldian Plague) for a reason. Strong, debonair, charming, and slightly insane. He could down a beer in one swig, sip a martini all night long, or abstain from alcohol completely. Whatever he needed to do, he did. He murdered, sent the idiotic young and the hopeless old to their deaths just the same, and could absolutely wine and dine a stranger until their clothes practically flew off their body if it was for the cause. You needed to be like that. Especially at a time like this.

“I’ll do it. And I’ll do it well.” You assured your boss and his partner. Yeah, this would be easy. You could go low as the scum you were about to completely fuck over. You had been climbing up the ranks as of late, so this would be easy as pie.

Before going on your little date: you made a mental note of the main players you would have to deal with. The list you had went something like this:

Porco Galliard: Complete idiot. All brawn, no brain. Basically a bouncer with a fancier jacket and a higher salary. No worries about him doing anything funny.

Pieck Finger: The sweet little thing they kept around for good reason. Part of you wished you had to deal with her instead. She was witty and had a surprising amount of control over the shipments of cocaine and ammunition that went on about the city. Her pretty face and calm demeanor hid her true genius. She was one of the more concerning figures at tonight’s gig, but also one of the one’s more willing to hear you out before killing you.

Colt Grice: Basically a smarter but weaker version of Galliard. He was really only part of the Syndicate to learn from the best and become a great mafioso one day. You had high hopes for him, despite yourself.

Bertholdt Hoover: A freakishly tall mix of the last three members of the gang. So sweaty and shaky he wasn’t allowed to handle guns under any circumstance. That told you all you needed to know about his threat level.

Annie Leonhardt: Tiny, quiet ball of rage and skill. Could murder you in an instant, but would only do so if ordered. Not a concern unless someone else found you out, or you didn’t like being glared at all night.

Reiner Braun: His personality changed with the passing minutes. Could be calm and almost kind, or could snap your neck like a twig in his giant ass hand. He was a wildcard, and a dangerous one. Though he was obsessed with following orders and being the perfect little soldier boy, so you didn’t need to worry about him if no one told him to start shooting.

Yelena: Even more freakishly tall than Hoover. Also freakishly obsessed with the gang leader and his “master plan”, whatever the hell that was. Maybe you would find out tonight. Anyways, she would only do anything if you threatened the boss in any way. If you did your job right, that wouldn’t be an issue.

Eren Yeager: Easily the most brash and idiotic member of the gang. His problem was that he was trigger happy. In this business, trigger happy meant dozens of dead innocents piled up on the club floor in an instant. You had to be careful around him. Unlike most of the others, he would kill you without thinking.

And the top dog. The man of the hour. The man you had to seduce:

Zeke Yeager: Think Erwin but with more wit and charm. Not to mention more of a sadistic mindset. His favorite game was cat and mouse, seeing how long it took before he had a good excuse to have someone drawn and quartered. His expertise was slow torture that the victim didn’t even really know was happening before the barrel of the gun was already pointed to their temple. And you had to fuck him so stupid he leaked confidential information.

The only other issue with Zeke was his habit of sleeping around. Yes, he was a tramp by most standards. A harlot with exotic tastes. You had heard stories of him seducing women and men alike, and god only knew what they did once he succeeded. What that meant for you was he would be hard to impress.

So, you were here to beat him at his own game. And if you were found out, his younger brother would most likely shoot you on the spot. That was, if one of the others did it first. Or even worse, Zeke decided to be a tried and true asshole and torture you to death. The options were endless, and you hated them all.

So there you sat, ass perched on a bar stool, sipping on a gin rickey and waiting for your opportunity. The room smelled strongly of tobacco, rum, and cinnamon. At least you would die surrounded by what you loved, you thought, laughing grimly to yourself. Men and women danced to slow songs you faintly recognized. The air buzzed with haughty laughter and upper class small talk. You barely had any idea how to interact with high society shitheads as high and mighty as the ones Yeager surrounded himself with. You weren’t often sent out to jobs like this. You were like Levi, born in the slums and never taught how to properly behave. You knew what you had to, much like your knowledge of the goings on of La Peste Eldienne. You knew your gang traded drugs, ammunition, and whatever else was a hot commodity at the time, but nothing other than that. You were actually quite glad to know nothing, since that made you a pretty unimportant person to rival gangs. Not as many death threats and kidnapping attempts came your way, unlike the ones Erwin, Hange, and Levi got every day. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts on the gang hierarchy.

“Excuse me, miss. The boss wants to chat with ya’ real quick.” A man with greasy hair and green, catlike eyes softly gripped your shoulder. Considering what you knew of Galliard, you figured that grip wouldn’t be soft for much longer if you didn’t do as he suggested.

“Oh, alright. Did he happen to mention why?” You were genuinely curious. Porco didn’t offer you any solid answer, but there was a reasonable explanation.

Zeke wanted to get his rocks off. Parties could be interesting, with the right people, of course. The right people hadn’t happened to show up that night. You, on the other hand, seemed interesting. To be frank, you were gorgeous. Even from a distance, he could tell there was something behind your eyes that spelled trouble. He loved people like you. Vicious, cunning, witty, all hidden behind an uninterested and bored demeanor. Those were the people he wanted around him. The best examples were Pieck, and surprisingly, Levi. They seemed to be completely different people than the ones hiding behind their eyes, and Zeke loved to see how long it took to break them down. Well, he was a bit kinder to Pieck, but you and Ackerman got the rough treatment.

“Zeke, what the hell’re you doin’?” Eren pulled him out of his rather disgusting thoughts of…things better left unsaid.

“I’m going to talk to a woman, Eren. What does it seem like I’m doing?” Zeke had a sharp tongue and quick wit, which he didn’t spare even his brother from.

“I get that, but why that one? She seems…shady t’me. I wouldn’t let ‘er get too close, y’know?”

“Eren, please be rational.” Zeke held a palm out in front of Eren, as if to physically stop his train of thought. “You and Yelena will shoot at the first sign of danger, so inviting this lovely woman to join us for a harmless chat isn’t a danger in the slightest.” Zeke reassured his brother, neglecting to tell him his true intentions. He was sure that would just make him more upset and skittish, which was dangerous for everyone there.

“’Kay, boss. Got the dame ya’ asked for.” Porco trudged to the brothers’ secluded table with you in tow. He had kept one hand on your shoulder and the other right above your ass. The two main reasons being: one, he didn’t want someone so seemingly important to escape his grip, and two, you had a nice ass.

“Ah, thank you Galliard…you can let her go now.” He gave Porco a knowing smirk. He let you go immediately and walked away, cheeks slightly reddened. Zeke didn’t want someone else touching his new toy.

“I’m sorry if this comes off as rude, but did you need something from me? That man made me leave my gin at the bar and I would like to finish it at some point.” Oh, Zeke was going to love you. You weren’t flighty or scared in the slightest. He knew you had seen some serious shit. Not to mention how you cared more about your alcohol than a dangerous mafia boss and his younger brother ordering you over to their table. You were attractive and relatable. What a catch.

“My apologies, Galliard tends to be a bit, how do you say, brutish. Feel free to order something new and sit down with us.” He gave you a smile that told you it wasn’t a suggestion. This guy was already just as bad as everyone had told you. He hailed a waiter over to the table. You knew that wasn’t some kind gesture, rather a show of how much power he had over everyone there. His long, thick fingers and suave smile also showed you how easily swayed you could be by dashing looks and raw power.

He held himself like a king but talked like a philosopher. At the same time, he was down to earth yet still slightly condescending. You never knew where you stood with him, and he liked it that way. His flaxen hair was parted down the middle, and unlike most of the men there along with yourself with their hair hardened with pomade, it was fluffy and moved as he gestured wildly when he spoke. He tended to talk with his hands, once again drawing attention to just how attractive they were. His face was indescribably beautiful. His eyes were like stormy oceans cascading with passion and intrigue. His lips looked soft and plush with a wonderful roseate hue. His beard was well groomed and framed his sharp jaw perfectly. His gold rimmed glasses had a habit of hiding his eyes when thrown into direct light, which often happened with how he talked with his whole body. The way he constantly made direct eye contact with you had you lost in a daze of desire and fear. Was this all some sick ploy to get you to slip up and get everyone you loved killed along with yourself? Or was he seriously that interested in you?

Eren was quiet most of the time, unless Zeke spoke to him. He didn’t like you. You were too similar to Zeke for his tastes.

“Say, Eren, could you pass me a smoke?”

“Oh, so you do have vices. See, you never ordered a drink for yourself, so I assumed you were a man above pleasures of the flesh.” You flashed a toothy grin at him, signaling that it was just playful banter. You two were both rather good at that.

“My dear, the more you get to know me, the better you will understand just how enthralled with earthly pleasures I am.” He winked, and it sent you to the moon with want. How could a man be so gorgeous, charming, dangerous, and sadistic all at the same time? And why did you have to deal with it? You needed him out of his right mind, but it seemed like that could never happen. Whether it came from alcohol, drugs, or sex. You planned to use a mixture of all three. As you continued your playful jabs and taunts at each other, you found your opportunity to seal the deal. One sniff of the white stuff and he was putty in your hands.

“Now you know, Mr. Yeager, gin isn’t my only vice.” You kept your usual sly tone.

“Oh really? That is quite the interesting thing to say.” He matched your energy perfectly. This was too good.

“Have you ever happened to try, well, what do they call it these days? Well, I tend to call it blow. Snow, stardust, snort, sugar, crack, whichever you prefer, I suppose.” Oh, how brave of you to mention your own trade to your top competitor.

“Why, yes, I have indeed partook in snorting blow. Is there any reason as to why you’re asking me that right now, darling?” You wished he would stop with the pet names. Or rather, you wished you would stop loving them so much. It felt dirty to enjoy your enemy’s company to this extent.

“Well, I was wondering if you might like to sneak off and try some of my personal mix.” You leaned in close, covering the side of you mouth with your hand. Eren wasn’t a bad kid or anything, but he’d mess with your plan, and you couldn’t have that. Especially not with his slippery ass trigger finger.

“Your own personal mix, eh? Don’t tell me you’re involved in the trade, now.” He leaned in just shy of touching your lips. “That wouldn’t be very good for either of us, sweetheart.” That’s it, you were fucking this man if it was part of your plan or not. The entire thing could go south, and you’d still want this man’s dick in your mouth. You didn’t really care anymore. He was too hot to handle, and you were this close to cracking under the pressure. Zeke was right, you were fun to play with.

“Not at all, I just happen to know the right people.” You grinned at him, knowing you technically weren’t lying. It was your own little inside joke, or so you thought.

The next thing you knew you were in Zeke’s penthouse, smashed up against the wall with a hand around your neck. By all accounts, this is what you wanted, but it was also quite the opposite.

“Dearest, I find it insulting that you think I would fall for that pitiful act.” He had you figured out from the moment you walked in. Zeke Yeager never forgot a pretty face. He’d wanted to have you naked in his bed for months, and here you were, all helpless and needy. You were adorable, thinking you could get whatever you wanted from him.

“Smith was a fool to send anyone, let alone a little minx like you.” You hated how good being insulted by this bitch felt. How did he make it so that your panties got wetter every time he called you a different synonym for whore? It was so awful and so amazing.

“I’m the slut, yet you’re the one actively trying to fuck me? Do I have that right?” You quipped the best you could from under the pressure of his strong hand.

“Alright then, we’re both sluts. But the difference between us is that I admit it, yet you pretend to be this perfect little princess in order to fuck powerful men like me.” His grip on your neck tightened as if to add injury to insult.

“Don’t insult me,” you had to catch your breath between each word, “I fuck men ten times more powerful than you.” But, god was it worth it. You figured he might slap you or otherwise reprimand you, but no, the bastard just smiled wide. What a fucking asshole.

“Maybe to you.” He widened his cheshire grin. “Maybe you think Erwin’s more powerful. That he has a bigger cock and sucking it will get you further in life.” He pushed you further into the wall. “Or maybe letting Ackerman smack your ass will earn you some cash. Or having Zacharius sniff around your cunt instead of your neck will rise you up the ranks, hmm?” You just grimaced at him, knowing none of it was true. “Or maybe,” he let out a chuckle, “letting Zoe do whatever the hell they’re into will get you more coke and gin.” He was mocking you, ruthlessly, with no signs of stopping, and without letting you get a word in. You were starting to see black spots in your line of vision.

“Well, fucking with me will get you much more, angel.” He finally let your neck go, letting you fall to the ground, left to look up at the devil in front of you.

“You fucking suck.” You glared at him, not necessarily trying to hide how much you were enjoying this. As it happened, you weren’t some innocent angel. No, you weren’t a sadistic maniac like Zeke, but you knew what you wanted, and it wasn’t necessarily vanilla. As if reading your earlier thoughts, he bent down to your place on the floor.

He slapped you, and it wasn’t gentle.

“You’re a sloppy whore on your best days, now get up and strip.” Well if worst came to worst, you could say that you got him where you wanted him…just not exactly how you wanted him, or with a guarantee you would get what you wanted out of him. Honestly, you felt kind of flattered by his attention and apparent need to fuck you.

“God, do I have to do everything for you, sweetheart?” Apparently you had been standing around catching your breath too long for his liking. He had made quick work of his own jacket, shirt, and dress pants, leaving him in a black pair of boxers. You hated admitting how magnificent he looked. He was muscular, but not in the same way someone like Reiner or Erwin was. Every single limb on him was lengthy and wiry, thus the bruise marks forming on your neck. While on the subject of length, from what you could see, it applied to his cock as much as it did his other appendages. If it looked that good through the black fabric, you couldn’t even dream of what it would look like out in the open, slapping against his defined v-line and abs.

You hadn’t even noticed him getting closer to you, completely forgetting about his earlier demand turned complaint.

“Not only are you a harlot, you’re a useless one, as well.” He came close enough for you to smell the hints of smoke, pine, and black tea that wafted off of him. He started playing with the collar of your shirt. “But damn if you aren’t a pretty one…” He said that more to himself than you, clearly not being comfortable complimenting you. He saw you as a toy, a pawn in his game of chess he was playing with the rest of the world.

You decided that would be your last deep thought as he began to undress you. Nimbly moving his fingers down each button of your dress shirt, until it came completely undone and bore your chest to him. You were by no means flat, which seemed to entertain the man in front of you.

“I knew you’d be the perfect slut for me.” He groped your breasts through your bra, hands greedy with the clear goal of making you yearn for him. “Perfect tits, soft skin, pretty face, nice ass, strong will. Yeah, you’ll be fun to break.” He gave you one of his signature smirks, making you want to crush his windpipe and deepthroat his dick at the same time.

You shrugged your top off your shoulders and let him snake his arms around your chest to undo your bra and expose your tits to the cool air of the room. He didn’t waste time kissing your filthy mouth, and instead skipped straight to your sensitive neck. He slowly dragged his soft lips down your throat, kissing his way over to both sides and under your jaw. He licked and sucked at any area that made you gasp or let out some embarrassing little noise you tried to desperately to hide. He hated how you hid, he needed you to need him, to want him at a level beyond human comprehension. He wanted to destroy you, do break you down to your most animalistic and pitiful form. You were strong, that was for damn sure, but he wanted to fix that.

He took all this into account as he began nipping at the tops of your breasts. He moved from one to the other with no clear pattern. He dragged his tongue down to your right nipple, only touching the tip of his tongue to it, making you shiver in anticipation and let out a small whine. Yes, that was the progress he wanted to see from you. He swirled his tongue around it, slowly making his way to the center, harshly sucking it into his mouth. He pulled his sinful mouth away from you, leaving a trail of saliva connecting him to you. He quickly made his way to your other nipple, doing the same and driving you just as wild.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to make more noise, darling.” He teased, sounding genuinely annoyed with you.

“Well, maybe if you did a better job, I would be louder.” You had discovered your talent of keeping up with his smart mouth, and you used it to your advantage. You wanted to rile him up; to get a rise out of him. As previously stated, you didn’t want a vanilla little love making session, you wanted to fuck.

“Alright then, if you’re so keen on keeping quiet,” he put his rough hands on your bare shoulders, pushing you back onto the ground, this time on your knees, “how about I stuff that mouth?” You hated how good he was at turning you on.

He pulled his dick out right in front of your face, letting it lay on his toned abs, just as you had envisioned it. It was easily 10 inches long, 5 inches thick, with a slight upturn that could drive you insane if it hit the right spots, which it would. It was flushed pink and dripping pre-cum; it was pretty.

“Well, are you just going to gawk at it or are you going to make yourself useful, slut?” The sweet pet names were out the window, swiftly replaced with the most debasing insults he could think of. To avoid any more of his smart ass remarks, you took his thick cock in your hands. You slowly stroked it, taking in exactly how big it was. You moved your plush lips closer, giving it a few small kitten licks to test the waters. You kissed the head and gave longer licks up the side, earning a grunt or two from the man above you. As you began to swirl your tongue around his tip, his strong hand came down and pushed on the back of your head. It wasn’t gentle, forcing you to take him down your throat. Considering his size, it was no shock that you choked on it at first, but he kept his hand on your hair, forcing you to stay on him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, keep that dirty mouth on fat cock.” Tears starting pooling in your eyes as you struggled to breath around his length. “Aww, are you actually crying?” He cooed, taking sick pleasure in mocking you. “How pathetic of you, darling.” His words send shockwaves of shame and pleasure down to your core. You abhorred how badly you needed him inside of you. As he let out a low moan, he pulled you off his cock, tugging your hair just enough to make you even wetter.

“Alright, angel. I’m not a big fan of blowjobs, so we’ll leave it at that.” You coughed a little as he bent down to your heaving form.

“Really? That’s a shock.” That was your genuine reaction. You were far too fucked out to be a smart ass at this point.

“Yeah, you’re not the first to make that observation.” Much to your surprise, he picked you up bridal style, barely breaking a sweat in the process of getting you to his bedroom. Though the lights were on, you couldn’t take in many details, your cock drunk state making it difficult to process anything other than the warm, bare skin of the monster you tried so hard to vanquish.

“Now, lets get these cute little panties off, hmm?” You had forgotten him taking off your pants in the heat of the moment. His menacing figure loomed overtop of you, slowly sinking down to your thighs. He placed licks and kisses all over them, leaving a few bite marks along with them. You moaned louder than before, feeling too blissed out to care about your pride. You felt large, tepid fingers hooking themselves between your legs and into your panties. He pulled them to the side, wanting to really take you in. Despite his lust for power and dominance, he much preferred giving head to receiving it, especially when it came to women and their soft, tender pussies. You were no exception to this rule.

“Goddamn you’re fucking wet.” You looked up at you, making you lean your head back to avoid his gaze. “You must like me more than you care to admit, sweetie.” Just after saying this, he ran one long finger up your dripping slit, coating his fingertip in your slick. He looked at it shimmering in the low light of the room, grinning before taking it into his mouth and tasting what your cunt had to offer.

“You taste like heaven. Surprising, considering what a nasty girl you are.” Unlike you, he could keep that smartass act up for hours on end, no matter how lost in your sex he was. He landed a chaste kiss to your throbbing heat before flattening his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the middle. He began to devour you, making the lewdest noises you had ever heard in the process. You felt amazing, and disgusting, and just about every other emotion you had ever felt in your life. He was a god at eating your pussy, feeling no remorse in having his lips and beard dripping with your juices. To hell with the burn marks he left on your thighs and the burning sense of guilt you had for moaning so loud and creaming all over the face of your greatest enemy. Shame and guilt were for foolish children with no place in the world, Zeke wanted to enjoy every last second of destroying you.

As he continued to lick and suck at your most sensitive spots, you began to feel your stomach tighten, signaling your closeness. Zeke noticed as well, taking note of your erupting moans and groans and tugs at his silky hair. He moaned on your clit, the vibrations sending you over the edge. You came all over his face, arching your back of the soft sheets and making you scream his name. He kept his lips attached to your clit as you came down from your high, keeping you ensnared in his trap of bliss.

“God, you moan like a fucking whore, you know that?” The way he insulted you felt disgustingly good, especially coming from such a obnoxiously handsome man.

“And you eat pussy like a god.” The veil of hatred came off in one foul swoop. You couldn’t hold back how you truly felt about Zeke Yeager. You were in love with the way he treated you, and spoke to you, and ate you, and soon enough, fucked you. He was so damn good, and you just hated to love and loved to hate him.

“Oh, do I now?” He let out a low chuckle, taking pride in how helpless and stupid he had made you. “Does that make me your god, pet?” It wasn’t a real question. He knew the answer, and he loved that answer: yes.

“Now, how about I partake in some earthly pleasures and fuck your brains out, sweetheart?” He questioned, moving his arms up to rest on both sides of your head. His face was right above yours, lips hovering over your breathless, panting ones.

“Yes, please.” Your eyebrows scrunched together as you grew impatient and needy as all hell. Zeke had a sinister idea. God was a nice term, but he could think of a better one.

“How about you beg daddy for it?” He was such a disgusting pervert, and he relished in it. You mustered all the strength you could in order to speak.

“Please fuck my pussy, daddy.” That was all he needed to push himself inside your tight heat. Your walls clenched as he thrusted balls deep inside of you, not caring if you needed to adjust or not. Luckily, you didn’t, despite his size.

“Fuck yes, angel. You’re so goddamn tight.” He thrusted into you with reckless abandon, using you more than making love to you, which is exactly what you both wanted. Your walls clenched and throbbed as he brought you to orgasm once again.

“Cumming all over my cock, sweetheart? Such a dirty whore.” He teased, continuing his motions, hitting your g-spot over and over again without much issue. His dick was perfect, reaching every inch of you that made you scream out in pleasure and overstimulated bliss. All of this for a few bags of cocaine and bullets. You weren’t even thinking of that as he pounded into you, getting rougher and sloppier than before. He was getting close to his own high just as you were about to reach your third. No one had ever made you feel like this. You never wanted to let him go. Fuck everyone you cared about, this was too damn good to throw away.

“Where do you want my cum, slut?” He asked seconds before climaxing.

“Wherever you want it, daddy.” That was exactly what he wanted to hear. You had been molded into the perfect toy for him, even if it was just for the moment. He had debased and perverted you, like putty in his hands. You thought you could just waltz in there and take what you wanted from him. But no, instead you were writhing around on his bed with his fat cock filling up your pussy while you screamed for your daddy. You were filthy, slutty perfection. He quickly pulled out of you and shot his cum on your stomach and chest. Noticing you were still squirming around, he pushed his thumb to your clit and rubbed circles as two of his fingers entered you and hit your sweet spot.

“Come on, slutty girl, cum for daddy.” This time felt different than the others. You were completely out of your mind with pleasure and lust, and he was hitting just the right spots. You came around his fingers, squirting your juices and ruining his sheets. As if he could sense it, he had moved his face down just in time for it to reach his mouth, coating yet another layer of your cum on his beard. He licked his lips, savoring you taste and the blissed out, fuck drunk look on your face. He wished he could keep you like this forever. No, he would make sure to keep you like this forever. You were going to be his for the rest of time, no matter what it took. Even if he had to play the long game and pretend you had a choice in the matter.

“Well, sweetheart, I’m afraid you have to go home empty handed. I’m sure those tarts will just pat you on the head and congratulate you for trying your best. That’s why they’ll never surpass me, and that’s why you will come crawling back to me.” You couldn’t respond, too disappointed and drained to say a word.

“I have a shower that I recommend you use.” He looked down at you, your eyes hazy and barely focused on him. You were completely exposed to him. You looked beautiful. “In an act of civility, I’ll let you sleep here tonight. On a different bed, of course, considering the damage you’ve done.” You laughed at that, and he followed suite.

“You know Zeke, for a monster, you’re not too bad.” You looked at him, admiration clear in your eyes.

“You’re not too unbearable either.”

#aot smut #snk smut #zeke yeager smut #zeke jeager x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jeager smut #tw: drug use #tw: alcohol

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dinner-djarin · 3 years

Text

dar'manda (Mando x f!reader insert)

Prologue

(Inspired by this scene)

Summary: You've been working as a merchant on Nevarro for years now, only out of necessity. Life really wasn't going your way. At least until the Mandalorian came by your booth. Now he's all you think about, and soon he'll be even more.

Warnings: Probably some swearing (real and in universe), violence (eventually), smut (eventually), No use of Y/N, slowburn/fluff (for the first little while)

Notes: Takes place at the end of season 1, and will mostly take place between season one and two. I have been sitting on this for a while due to some fear about reception by the fandom, but honestly I just need to stop thinking about it so here we go. She's going out into the world, and I hope you enjoy. (Also I wrote this prologue like 2 months ago so it isn't quite where I'd like it to be but if you read this please just stick with me, I swear my writing gets better lol)

You don’t know how long it’s been since you last saw him. Weeks? Months? But you can’t get that damn tin can out of your head.

You really have no reason to be this hung up on him. He’s barely spoken to you, you’ve never even seen his face, so it should be easy enough to move on from whatever childish infatuation you have over him. Right? Maker, what kind of person crushes on a mask and a suit of armour?

But there’s something about him, something that keeps him planted in your subconscious. You’ve tried to find the words to explain it, but nothing ever comes close. You can't even begin to understand how this man has completely overtaken your every waking thought.

He used to come by every couple of weeks, and you’d savour every delectable minute of the interaction, but that was all before shit hit the fan of course. You weren't there to see it but when you came back to work the next day it was all anyone could talk about.

“Apparently the metal man broke some Guild rule, and practically all of the other bounty hunters tried to kill him for it.” You heard over your shoulder. As much as you liked to keep to yourself, you couldn’t help form eavesdropping on a conversation between merchants. You did have a guilty pleasure for drama, probably to fill the uneventful void that your mundane life had now become.

“The Mandalorian? He broke their code then!” one exclaimed.

“I heard he went back for a bounty,” someone else whispered.

“What could make someone do something so stupid?” questioned a merchant lady you already didn’t particularly like.

“He doesn’t strike me as stupid,” you interrupt, trying to stick up for the man you were currently enamoured with. “If he did it, there must be a valid reason.”

“If he did it?” She sneered. “Do you not see the damage he left behind? People will be out of business for sure. It’ll take weeks to clean up the mess he made.”

“Then I guess I hope it was worth it. That it wasn't in vain.” You state, putting an end to the conversation. You hoped the man – that you already liked against your better judgement – wouldn’t cause so much harm without some justification.

In the wake of his rebellion, a covert of other masked hunters revealed themselves, shot up the town, and then vanished without a word. And so did your Mandalorian.

Woah hold on. Not yours. Just one random Mandalorian that you’ve said a handful of words to and have harboured a secret crush over.

From the second you saw him you pretty much knew you were screwed. Between the husky modulated voice, and the broad as hell shoulders, there was pretty much no way to quell the instant attraction that rose up in you. His presence alone was suffocating. Nothing could stop the way your vocal cords tightened to the point of forcing out a soft squeal at his sight. The whole time he talked to you, you could feel his visor latch onto your body – pinning you to the spot.

You thought you might find some relief when he left. Quite the opposite. You couldn't help but gawk at the way his body moved, like he knew he was hot shit. He took your damn breath away. And you were glad to know that he couldn't see your lips part to let out a soft moan, or the way they pursed back together as you unconsciously swallowed the suddenly copious amount of saliva pooling in your mouth. Fucking delicious, you thought, shamelessly.

Maybe it was the fact that you knew he could take anyone down in milliseconds. He was untouchable, and this latest defiance proved that. No one crossed the Guild. Well, no one crossed the Guild and got away with it. But if anyone could, it would be Mando.

And there’s another thing. You don’t even know his name. Which means that you’re forced to call him the colloquial slang that is commonly used by outsiders of the Mandalorian culture. “Mando”. You couldn’t help but think about how it almost sounded like an insult, especially when slurred from the mouth of other criminals. You hated the way people spat the word out at him, obviously trying to get him worked up; to see what he was made of. It made you desperately wish that you had a better name to call him, his real name. An intimate piece of knowledge that you could hold on to, something of him that no one else had.

Maybe that made you selfish. Even so, there was so much you wished you knew about him. He was a complete mystery.

To be fair, he probably didn’t even know your own name. You can't recall him asking for it, or if you ever introduced yourself. You were pretty much a bumbling mess the first time you met him. To the point where even if you had tried to say your name it probably would have sounded like you were speaking Huttese. Although, who could blame you. It wasn’t very conventional to introduce yourself to every customer. The people on Nevarro usually kept to themselves, especially the bounty hunters. There wasn’t much room for ‘customer service’. But damn you wish you had tried to make some sort of introduction. Even if it had come out as incoherent nonsense, you think it may have made talking to him later a bit easier.

However, none of that matters if he never comes back, and you bet he won’t. He’s smarter than that. To pull what he did, he’s probably on the other side of the galaxy right now.

Even so, you’ll miss the shared awkward silences and stolen glances that came with each of his visits. Whenever he’d come into the shop, he’d list off what he needed to stock up on, using the most deep and captivating voice you think you’d ever heard. If he hadn’t had that helmet covering his face, you’d swear he stared right into your soul as he did so. It almost made you weak in the knees every damn time. You’d then rummage through each supply crate and gather the best quality of every item, and finally – just to bring your humiliation to an all-time high – you’d give him a discount for absolutely no discernible reason. He took notice of the reduced price the first time and thanked you, only for you to be berated by your boss once he left. Eventually, to your dismay, the niceties came to a halt. Maybe he forgot what full price was, maybe he just couldn’t care less.

Either way, it looks like you’d risked your job for the last time. It’s a shame. For a planet full of bounty hunters and hardened criminals, there’s actually not a lot to entertain you. A shootout here, an escaped bounty there, but nothing that satisfied your desire for an exciting lifestyle.

The closest you got to that would be each time some wide-eyed, eager, wannabe-bounty-hunter strolled through town looking for a chance to weasel their way up the ladder of the Guild. They definitely thought they were more important than they actually were, and they always made a point of showing off for you. Not that you were anything special, just the closest thing with cleavage usually. They’d probably brag about their rank and their kill counts, things you could not care less about. A few of them actually had the balls to ask you out, but it usually only ended in a free meal or drink. To be fair though that was very intentional on your part. It was fun to play the part of a flirtatious girl from the market for a while, and almost exciting to think about how you were completely screwing over those assholes.

Over the time you’ve spent alone in the galaxy you learned exactly how to read those kinds of people. You knew just how far to go, just what to say or do until you got what you needed. As much as you weren’t a fan of physical affection, you often brushed your target's arm or thigh, played with their hair, or if the situation really demanded it – madeout with them behind the cantina. But you always made a point of stopping before things got too far. You may not be a complete saint, but you knew none of the scumbags you met were worth your time.

You wouldn’t have allowed things to go any further. Not with them. Going any further could only be a letdown, and you were fine to take those matters into your own hands…. literally. You may be a complete flirt, but only as a skill to survive in this grimy and dangerous galaxy. You learned early on that being young and female was a vulnerability. That was at least until you discovered how that vulnerability could be shaped into one of your most valuable strengths.

When you think about him though… well something about him made your entire badass facade disappear into thin air. You lost any cool you had the minute he walked past your vendor. Not to mention that there was something else about him that told you he’d see right through it anyway. Maybe it was the visor. Some special setting to read the level of bullshit.

As far as you’ve seen, he doesn’t take anyone’s shit. He definitely isn’t the type to make others feel comfortable in a conversation. He says precisely what he needs to get his point across, nothing more. Never once had you heard him use more than 10 words at a time.

On a few occasions you were lucky enough to end up in the cantina at the same time as him. Whether you were on a break or entertaining some dead-beat for free lunch, you remember how fast your heart would beat when the glint of his helmet met your vision. You wondered if he noticed your presence, or if he even recognized you away from your vendor at the market.

One time you were in the next booth over. Your spine straightened, and your whole body shivered when he slid into his seat and placed himself directly behind you. The proximity was electrifying. It made every neuron in your body fire rapidly and your blood vessels pump impossibly fast. You were probably supposed to be listening to the slimeball buying your drinks drone on about how impressive his last capture was, but the baritone emanating from behind ensnared every ounce of focus you had.

“I’ll take the highest pay” he muttered through the modulator.

“I do have other hunters, Mando. I can’t always guarantee you get the best of the lot.” replied his employer. A smile maintained on his face even when confronting an unforgiving barricade.

“I’m sure you do. But high price means high risk.” Mando responded. His employer’s confused silence forced him to continue. “Those skilled enough to take on the bounties know better than to do so.”

The Guild leaders' laughter bounced off the walls making many patrons turned their heads, while others continued their business, obviously being used to this behaviour.

You were left puzzled in that moment, completely baffled by this interaction. It wasn't until much later that night when it finally clicked. Although you didn’t know exactly how ranking in the Guild worked, you knew Mando was up there. He had the status to strike fear into almost every other bounty hunter he outranked. Mando had staked his claim long ago, and no one in the Guild was stupid enough to try and take a bounty from him. If he wanted something, he was going to get it.

You’d remember that interaction vividly. Not only because of how close you were to the Mandalorian as you overheard it, but also in service as a reminder to you, proving just how dominant he was in this world. He held power over every member of the Guild, including its leader, whether he wanted to admit it or not. You felt idiotic for not instantly understanding the control he wielded wherever he went. Sometimes it's a wonder how completely oblivious you could be.

Although you certainly were not oblivious to the drastic upgrade he got just before leaving. If you thought Mando was intimidating before, his new head to toe silver armour was sure to strike fear into any of his prey. You remember thinking you saw his reflection pass by earlier in the day, but he quickly dissolved into the shadows, as he often found a way of doing. However, later that night when you had just gotten off from work, he strolled back into the cantina for a new batch of bounties and all eyes were drawn to him. Most eyes were filled with jealousy since – as his employer made clear – he completed the job none of them could. They were probably even more enraged by the fact that he wore his reward back into the room, when most of them would have gladly taken that metal to the highest bidder and sold it for a hefty profit. However, you saw him differently than the rest. Your eyes were fixed on him in fear and in wonder. This metal man, already a force of nature, just became that much more impossible to defeat. As if anything could get to him before, it was clear now that no one could reach the Mandalorian.

But again – it doesn't matter. Not a single soul on Canto Bight would bet his shiny ass walks back into this sector. Not unless he has some kinda death wish…

Turns out he has some kinda death wish.

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Chapter 1 is up now!

More notes: Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this lovely mess. I'm not the most proud of it, but I do want to continue this story (which I know we've all read 100 iterations of by now). Either way, I'm having fun writing it, so I might as well post it!

I'd love a like or comment if you'd be willing to share, I'm very new to writing so I'd enjoy any constructive criticism (especially on the first few parts, I know they need work, but at this point I just want to stop thinking about it and continue on with the story). Also this will be ongoing, so if you wanna keep reading feel free to drop your @ in my inbox or in the comments and I can tag you when I update!

So long for now my fellow helmet whores!

#mando x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #fanfic #pedro pascal #mando #din #the mandalorian s1 #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x you #din djarin x you

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pocketsedition · 3 years

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aftg as cliche high school au

i got bored and was wondering how the foxes would work in american high school stereotypes and now i’m here so. yeah ignore it if it sucks <3

neil would of course be the popular-kid-who-doesn’t-wanna-be-popular

depending on who you are he could either be really nice to you or the biggest fucking asshole

he’s on the cross country team as well as soccer w kevin (duh)

he mainly hangs out w other ‘popular kids’ like matt allison seth dan and occasionally the vixens but like only because his group knows them

he also vibes with renee occasionally

andrew would be the quiet kid who’s actually an asshole especially to teachers and reads during class is that a stereotype? i think so

he’s also probably a gamer kid and he wears a bunch of rings yes youll see

i’ll get more about him later

aaron is that kid in biology who’s got an A+ throughout the whole class and it annoys the shit out of everyone because that shouldn’t be possible

kevin is a jock. yes he is

he plays soccer and does cross country (can you do those both at the same time) (i’m not a sports person)

(let’s say yes for the sake of this)

he’s also one of those history nerd kids

you know who i’m talking about

nicky is a theater kid and he can actually sing really well

he just never stops

he knows he’s good at singing but it’s annoying walking out of math every day hearing a random song

seth and matt are both jocks and best friends (besides neil) but there are significant differences about them

yes they both were highlighters during middle school but that’s besides the point

seth is one of those kids who during gym is always like “dOnT bE a sOrE LoSeR” whenever your team loses but when his team loses he’s a pissbaby talking about how you cheated and just e w

he also has pot brownies in the middle of class

he probably asks you for answers for the homework too

matt just vibes and probably accidentally hits the volleyball too hard but everyone loves him anyway

he absolutely sucks at most classes and will absolutely be like “ohHHH thank youu :D” when you help him like literally the puppy eyes give you no choice but to help him

allison is the regina. fuckin george of school

but like if you guys end up sitting together during chemistry and you aren’t a complete dickhead to her she’ll probably give you candy or just whatever she has on her

renee is quiet girl whos actually got good grades and popular girl (allison) highkey has a crush on her

dan is like middle ground like shes a sports girl

but shell willingly hang out with both quiet kids and popular kids

overall really nice

OKAYOKAY NOW

neil ended up getting set up with one of the vixens marisa

(i think that was that girl who neil took to the banquet and was like "why do i need your number" to ?)

anyways he keeps trying to be like "no." over and over but she simply Wont Have It

and then next thing you know hes running for homecoming king and hes this close to breaking his own arm to get out of it

so now. he has to find an outfit

meanwhile Quiet Goth™ andrew minyard and his twin brother aaron have their dad who has a fashion business (mom died in a catastrophic car crash)

and everyone knows this so theyre always asking for like. help and discounts and shit

he says no to all of them

except neil whos in need of an outfit and

very very pretty

like uhh who gave you the r i g h t to have that awkward smile ???

and those t h i g h s ?

so andrews like "eh whatever sure"

yes yes yes yes

and. they end up getting kind of close ?

it kind of astounds everyone

aaron hates it he has calculus with neil and neil has the audacity to be so good at math and just so happens to be the only person andrew helps ?

seth is confused because andrews the only person he cant beat in a good one v one of exy

but also andrew buys a bunch of pot brownies from him and ???? he doesnt know why bc he doesnt even look high most of the time

he gives them to security guards as bribery so he can keep his knives on him during school

and now neils just friends w him ????

and its going well

"so you don't wanna be popular" "...yeah" "then dont"

neil retorts with:

"so your telling me your dad runs a fashion business and you wear all black"

they go back and forth for like half an hour

andrew starts trying to teach neil how to play videogames

neil fucking sucks but he doesnt really care because andrews nice

and actually helping neil pick out his outfit is a fucking pain because he so pretty picky

andrew dies

anyways

neil starts opening up about how he doesnt actually like marisa and andrews like "tell her"

"i hav she just doesnt. listen >:("

andrew offers to but neil knows about the frog knives (yes the frog knives) and hes like hah nice try

they still have nights on the roof and cigarettes and secrets shared

so everything happens and it finally gets to marisas head that neil doesnt wanna go to homecoming (with her. that is)

its like 4 days before homecoming and he jsut snaps

"yaknow i get it—"

she ends up crying but neil doesnt care at this point shes finally off his back

lets face it he would not care that man has zero morals

and so its homecoming night and neils this close to simply Not Going

but matt and seth are on the football team and they have their game and he spent hours looking for a suit

so he goes to the game and he hangs out with the upperclassmen

deliberately avoids the team because theres ways vixens nearby and he cant deal with marisa rn

so he hangs out

he sees aaron in the stands and asks if andrews around aaron just shrugs

useless

and the games over matts team wins yay !!!

everyones happy

now its time for the dance

neils dreading it

he goes and tries to avoid the general public because Ew People

and he sees andrew hiding from the noise in a hallway with no people

theyre quiet until neil follows andrew out to the back of the school and to the middle of the empty soccer field

"you werent at the game"

andrew shrugs "i didnt care about the game"

"and you care about the dance?"

"aaron doesnt have his own car"

"mhm"

andrew rolls his eyes

its quiet and neils just looking at andrew

he kinda had a realization the other night with matts help

andrew simply stares back

"yes or no"

"yes"

kith :)

the school doesnt notice they’re a thing until andrew shows up to school one day wearing what may or may not be one of those wrist. sweatband thingies

im dumb i forgot what theyre called

and neil always has one of andrews rings on him and hes always fidgeting with it

anyways i might write a fic who knows not me❤️

#aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #neil josten #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #aftg au #andreil au #the foxes #tfc au #nicky hemmick #kevin day #seth gordon #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

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The bots are all fixed!!! Well, they are physically. Mentally is another question which we’re not covering hahahahahaHAHAHA! also wack, no smp members. @petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

“There, that should do it. We might want for someone to test it out in the near future, but it does look like it’s fixed.” Xisuma spoke as both of the bots powered back on. “I can see why we had trouble before. It looks fine if you’re not actively looking for that problem specifically.”

“Thank you very much Xisuma.” Mumbo said, checking both of the bots over for his own peace of mind.

“Of course. I also got a response from Biffa in the middle of it all, and while he’s not willing to share all the details of his past, he was willing to give a few notes. As these two are player entities, natural world magic is going to help them adapt more to that. He’s willing to come visit in a few weeks to see the two of them if you’re all okay with that.”

Mumbo looked over to Grian who nodded. “That’s more your guys’ call. You both knew him much longer than me. I mean, we interacted of course and he seemed nice, but you know better.”

“Well X, I think that would be lovely.” Mumbo replied, looking back to the admin.

“You know, is it just a family thing to like people in pink, or is it just coincidence.” Grifter spoke up, making everyone look over at him exasperatedly.

“Did you have to follow us in here?” Mumbo groaned, and Grifter just nodded, feathers coming off of him as he moved from stray ones sticking to his clothes.

“Too many chickens outside. Inside’s safer. Besiiiiiiides it’s less boring in here. And I’m the one who even knew what was wrong with your kids. Also yeah, you fixed it, no need for testing.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” Grian asked, crossing his arms.

“Of course not. What would I get out of lying about it?” Grifter shrugged. “They also look like my little pumpkin rolls, so why would I want to hurt them?”

“Didn’t your version of Jrum try killing ours?” Mumbo said with a frown.

Grifter just scoffed. ��I told him about the bug! He was going to make sure your kid respawned correctly. I just needed some help and for you not to know. It worked out in the end, didn’t it? It only didn’t work out for those asshole admins and me.”

“Speaking of, Tommy’s old world has a console now. Well, a console other than Grum. Is the hels version the same?” Mumbo asked, genuinely curious, though the smile that Grifter gave worried him.

“Weeeell, the short answer is no, it’s got a new admin. The longer answer is that the new admin is meee!”

“You?!”

“I’m sorry why you?! I’m not the admin here! I’m not even opped!”

“I know you’re fucking not.” Grifter rolled his eyes, pulling a stray feather off of his sweater. “Our worlds are parallel but they aren’t one to one equals, dumbass. And we’re not just influenced by the shit that happens here. May I remind you that I was a Listener when Deevo and Evo started while you only became a Watcher when it ended. Or at least close to the end. And my boys were born before you built these two. The worlds sometimes force themselves together, like NPG staying around when I was gone and my boys not functioning until yours were around or… you know… Tommy being pulled to Hermitcraft after Theseus ran off to Helscraft.”

That got everyone’s attention. “Wait, is that why Tommy doesn’t know how he got here?”

Grifter smirked. “Yeah. After Nightmare got killed, Thee got the admin powers. He was pissed over things and ran off looking for me. Of course I was imprisoned and Dad wasn’t letting anyone near me, so the best he could find was season five. Member changes are always a forced thing, so I guess something pulled Tommy here to fix it that way.

“But wait, won’t that…” Grian trailed off.

“Shove you into the SMP? Fuck no. I’m admin, but I’m not gonna live there. I’m a Listener, I can check on things while living in Helscraft. Besides, things are different with NPG around. I mean, unless I kill him-”

“Don’t you dare!”

Grifter huffed. “I wasn’t gonna! Despite how much I hate him, he was the one person caring for Sense when he was all alone, so I’ll give him that. So no death, maybe just some torture. Anyway, I’m sure you’re visiting, so it balances out. Probably.” He finished with a shrug.

“Oh joy of joys.” Mumbo groaned while Grian looked so done with the world.

While all of this had been going on, both of the bots had completely powered on. At first they just took in their surroundings, staying quiet since it was clear others were in the middle of important conversations. Then they saw each other.

With everything that had happened, the two bots had barely been in each other’s company, and when they were, they were at each other’s throats. Jrum was the first to look away in shame as he could remember most of what happened clearly, but Grum was a bit fuzzy on a number of details. He hesitated, reaching out towards his brother a bit, before just pulling his hand back.

When it seemed the conversation was coming to a close, Grum got Jrum’s attention and used his screen and hands to signal something before looking over to their dads. “Um, Dads?”

Mumbo and Grian both looked over to Grum when he spoke up. “What is it Grum?”

“Could… Could Jrum and I have a bit of time alone? To… talk with each other?”

The pair looked to Xisuma since it was his place. X nodded before helping to lead them as well as Grifter out of the room and to somewhere else.

For a few moments, both of the bots were quiet, just sitting there, unsure what to say. Then Jrum started up the conversation. “I’m sorry for being mad at you. I got all upset at Dad getting upset at family, but then I was doing the same thing.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I was the one who started things. You reacted to my actions and were influenced by those red plants.”

“Yeah, but Dream was messing with you and made you be mean!”

“No he didn’t.” Grum replied, which confused Jrum for a few moments before Grum elaborated. “I started realizing something was weird and I panicked. I was worried I would do something really bad and hurt you. I didn’t know what exactly, and I also wasn’t sure if I could safely tell you. I knew if I said something kindly or nicely asking us to distance ourselves, nothing would work until I explained more. And I didn’t want to have to deal with you asking to stay because I didn’t want you to go either. So I just sort of… let myself be mean. I can’t even blame it on someone else. It was me and only me.”

Jrum was quiet, just processing what his brother had said. Then, after a few seconds, he scooted closer and hugged Grum. “Then that’s not your fault! You didn’t know what was safe to say, and that’s because the admin was - don’t let Daddy know I said this - Dream was a piece of shit!” Grum paused before giggling a bit, not expecting his brother to say that. “What? It’s true!”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… nice to be with you again.”

Jrum smiled and hugged a little tighter. “Yeah, and now we’re gonna be closer because we went through trauma together! Speaking of which… how long do you think we can milk this?”

Grum pulled away from the hug to rub his ‘chin’. “Well, Dad is more likely to notice we’re up to something, so only a week or two with him. But if we play our cards right, we can keep things going with Daddy for a month. Maybe even more.”

“What? That long?”

“Well, we sort of got stuck in a time displacement bubble for a month all by ourselves and got controlled by different things. We would need to be careful and not make it seem like we’re having a relapse, but if we have a, quote unquote bad day, we can definitely get a lot out of it.”

“I’m going to build a new shop.”

“Good idea, so many people will want to support us. We might even get a discount on some land in Aquoo town. From Scar and not Bdubs of course.”

“Of course, we have more sway over Scar.” Jrum nodded.

“The question is what to sell.”

“Yeah, that part’s gonna be a bit harder. Hmm, maybe a gardeni-”

“Nope! Absolutely not!”

“Ugh, rude. Hmm… Odea two?”

“Ooo, good idea, good idea. It also sounds like we could get some interaction with the SMP after this, we could outsource there. I mean, we already have the connections.”

“Oh definitely. Speaking of, I kinda said Fundy could come visit Hermitcraft a while ago. Do you think that would be allowed?”

“Oh easy. We can even get Michael and his dad to come too.”

“Yes! I’ve always wanted an actual playdate! And this time I won’t be almost killed by a clone!”

“Let’s find our dads and ask?”

“Definitely!” Jrum nodded, and the two bots jumped off of where they were sitting and went looking for their parents.

“Leave me alone Lynn.” Grian grumbled, wings puffing up.

“Not until you tell me what a Listener is doing here!” The other Watcher gestured to Grifter, who was giving her a smirk.

Grian sighed. “Basically I’m making sure he doesn’t destroy everything by keeping an eye on him. Unfortunately that means he needed to come here while I change some records.”

“Really? You changing records? I thought I’d never see the day.”

“Oh shut it. Remember that Watcher I asked about? You couldn’t find anything but I kept looking into it and found two unknown Watchers.”

“And let me guess, you figured out who they were. Was one of them Eyes?”

Grian half shrugged. “Yes and no? Uh, so both of them are my kids and Eyes is like… part of my one kid?”

“Oh you’re an idiot.”

“Hey hey hey! He’s not just an idiot, he’s also a dumbass!” Grifter spoke up, getting glares from both Watchers.

“But seriously. You used Watcher magic to build them?”

“I didn’t think I did! I mean, I guess maybe? But Mumbo was in charge of the redstone and the redstone was the mayoral reservoirs and that’s what was technically using magic.”

“I’m going to have to tell someone about this.”

“Okay. Can you just try to make sure it’s someone that’s not going to completely freak out?”

“Hmm, no promises.” Lynn replied, and then walked off before Grian could say more.

“Oh I like her.” Grifter smiled. “So how do you know each other?”

“She’s the Watcher that was in charge of at least part of the world I grew up in.”

Grifter nodded. “Well I would love to hear the stories she got from there. But that can wait. Where are we going now?”

“Records room. I need to officially list my boys as Watchers and then get their data transferred to their names.”

“Ughhhh that sounds boring. Where’s the cool stuff?”

Grian just groaned and led them to the records room, needing to give excuses to a few Watchers here and there on the way. He was able to quickly grab the needed files since he already knew where they were. Correcting the names was easy enough since they were currently unknown and waiting for the answer. Correcting other forms was harder though. Normally a Watcher had their name officialized before doing much work. Maybe once or twice based on the situation, and that was the case with Jrum seeing as how his only real use of magic was when Grian himself had triggered it. But Grum had a lot more.

Every time Grum accessed the mayoral reservoirs, he was really looking into all the political data that the Watchers had gathered over the years. That alone would be a hassle, but the fact that there was extra paperwork for accessing certain sub categories was causing more issues. Normally you needed permission for data on destroyed worlds, but of course Grum managed to bypass any blocks and get right into the data. And since he was unlisted, it had caused some more logging errors.

Grian half contemplated just flipping the table he was at. It would send paperwork everywhere, but a quick bit of magic would fix it, and it would feel gratifying. But then again, Grifter was here, and who knows how he would react. And Grian expected a worse case scenario there. “Okay, can I trust you for like three minutes to go tell Mumbo it’s going to take a while here?”

Grifter’s eyes lit up a little and he nodded. “Three minutes! Got it!” Grian immediately regretted it, but before he could say more, Grifter was gone.

Mumbo glanced at his communicator for the time. He expected Grian would take a while, but he also hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long. Plus, he was also worried that if the bots were left alone too long, they could get into trouble. He was just about to go check on them when he heard the sound of them running in his direction.

Mumbo couldn’t help but worry about why they were running until he actually saw them. With everything that happened the past few days, his mind kept trying to jump to the worst outcome, but the moment he saw the boys smiling, it calmed him down.

“Daddy! Can we invite people over to play?” Jrum asked, looking hopeful.

“Even with everything that happened, we managed to make some friends. It would be nice to thank them by letting them get to visit here.”

“And I kinda said someone could come visit and they’re kinda our cousin and he knows Auncle Iskall so please please please can they come visit?”

“And Michael was nice too. I didn’t get to interact too much, but he seemed rather nice.”

“Pleeeeeaaaaaaaase!”

Mumbo tried to get them to calm down. “Alright, alright. I’m sure the two of you could use some time to relax and have fun. We just need to wait for your dad to come back so he could get them. It may also be a while since I’m sure he wants to wait for Tommy to want to come back too.”

“Okay! We can wait!” Jrum agreed. “Can we go check the shopping district until then?”

“I’m not sure. I should wait for your dad to come back.”

“But we are perfectly able to go on our own.” Grum pointed out. “And even if something were to happen, the shopping district is so commonly filled with others that another hermit would assist us should there be trouble.”

Mumbo hesitated, but then agreed. “Alright, but see if Iskall is home and then ask them to take you there. I don’t want something happening on the way there.”

Jrum was happy to agree, but for a moment, Grum hesitated, their screen changing a bit. “Could we possibly ask Uncle Scar instead?”

“I’m… not sure he’s around. Grum are you sure you should be going?”

Grum nodded. He didn’t want to leave Jrum alone again. “No. It’s fine. W-We can go see Auncle Iskall.”

Mumbo didn’t look completely convinced, but Jrum’s pleading look got him to look away for just a moment. “Alright, alright. Go on before I change my mind again.”

“Thank you!” Jrum smiled and started pulling Grum away. Grum followed behind, though he still looked reluctant, so once they were in the air, Jrum looked back to his brother. “Oh come on, we’re not actually gonna go get them. We’re just going to say we couldn’t find them and since Daddy didn’t give us a second option, we’re just going on our own.”

Grum nodded. “Thanks.”

“Oh don’t worry! To be completely honest, I completely agree with Grifter about chickens right now and feel like I’ll strangle and turtles I see! I sort of don’t even want to see Professor Beaks any time soon!”

“Is that about the-”

“Yeah it’s about the flipping egg!”

“Sorry.” Grum apologized and Jrum made them land so they could hug each other.

“It’s fine. We already went over a bunch. Life sucked, but apparently that’s like… a family thing. I kinda want to give Daddy trauma though just to make it equal.”

“I think he has enough from dealing with us all.”

“Hmmmm you’re probably right. Okay let’s go scam Scar!”

The two of them eventually reached the shopping district and Aqua Town. It took a little bit of searching, but they eventually found the mayor. He already wasn’t the best and giving good prices for his land, but the fact that he was also up against two traumatized children, one of which he slightly feared, didn’t help his case. In the end, he got seven diamond blocks from the bots and Grum happily started building the new shop.

Jrum went back and forth between the plot and Odea to figure out prices and stocking the place. He was glad to see Grum was happy, and then even more when he saw their dad flying their way. “Dad! Dad! Over here!” Grian heard Jrum and flew down, landing next to the bot. “Look! We’re making a new shop!”

“Oh really? What are you going to sell?” Grian responded, and Jrum had to keep from frowning. The tone of Grian’s voice sounded off. Jrum’s best guess was that something bad happened with whatever he had been doing and he was upset at that, but Jrum also couldn’t be sure.

“Well, it’s going to be a branch of Odea. I’m hoping that if we’ve got lots of people visiting that aren’t all amazing builders and redstoners like everyone here that they’ll want to buy Daddy’s designs! And since everything is moving to Aquway Town, we’re having a place here so it’ll get noticed!”

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea! And it looks like someone’s gotten really far with building already.” Grian looked up to where Grum was standing on the scaffolding, placing blocks down.

“Yeah! I’m glad he looks so happy! Oh! By the way! When you pick up Tommy, can you also ask if Michael and Fundy want to visit? I kinda said Fundy could and then I think Michael would like it too. If his parents have to come along, I wouldn’t mind. And they’re Tommy’s friends so that way he can have people visit too!”

Grian smiled sweetly. “Oh of course we can do that! I’m sure Xisuma would be fine with it all!”

“Yay! I can’t wait!”

“Welp, I’m going to go check on the rest of Aqua Town!” Grian said, starting to walk off. “I don’t want to get too far while I wait for Tommy’s message.”

“Yeah oka- wait. Dad, what did you call this place?” Jrum asked, catching that Grian used the real name of the area.

“Uh… well I better check on Barge Co.! Eep!” Grifter started to back up, but then jumped as an egg was thrown down next to him, followed by another, and then yet another. “AHH! It’s Poultry Man! Run away!!!”

Jrum looked up to see that the eggs had come from Grum, who quickly signalled a sorry to Jrum, which the bot quickly accepted. Grum ended up gliding down to join his brother and the both of them dealt with Grifter, somehow managing to send the helsmit back to Grian, unintentionally making their Dad groan as more paperwork appeared for him.

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #xisumavoid #xisuma #grian #watcher!grian #grian xelqua #avian!Grian #mumbo jumbo #grumbot #jrumbot #hels!grian #the watchers (evo)

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captain-hen · 3 years

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I’m using the anon feature because I feel like this ask is dumb and probably self explanatory but you know how Maddie was given that baby box with her old baby items in it and all that? And Buck was all ‘whoa that’s so cool when do I get one?’ And his asshole parents just sat there, silent and confirmed that he won’t ever get one? His face after that silence makes me want to pull out my hair and scream because his parents are just so irritating and awful to him. Not trying to discount the fact that they lost a child seriously but the way they treated Maddie and Buck especially is so awful it makes me so angry. But anyway I bring all this up to ask my silly dumb question- Maddie’s baby box had all this baby memorabilia from when she was a baby and I know Buck will never get a baby box because his parents are assholes but do you think they have .... anything? Of when Buck was younger/little? Pictures, even? Like did they even give the tiniest shit to take pictures of him like parents do when their babies are small? I’m gonna say no because his parents just don’t seem to give a f*ck/are ‘checked out’ in that regard so there probably isn’t a single photo of a younger Buck lying around in a box somewhere and that makes me sad. Plus the look on his face after his parents gave him no answer kind of makes me think there’s nothing for him, no memories in pictures at least. Unless Maddie took some photos of Buck when she was still living at home I guess but I feel like we would have seen some photos if Maddie had any? Like in Buck begins instead of just postcards. So there’s probably none. This is so dumb but I think about it. You know? I probably answered my own question and maybe you already answered this sorry if you did. Do you think there’s anything? I don’t think so and maybe that’s part of the reason why he’s so devastated because deep down he knows there’s nothing for him. His parents never kept his baby stuff because he is a reminder to them of what they lost and who he couldn’t help save (Daniel)- in their eyes. So yeah no baby memorabilia for Buck of course but photos? I really don’t think so either and that makes me cry. His parents probably didn’t buy those school photos kids take over the years and probably didn’t take those family portraits at photography studios like some families do with their kids 😭

oh it's not dumb at all! it's really so awful the way the buckley parents emotionally abused their kids in different ways, and i will never be mad about the fact that they gave maddie her baby box in front of buck, knowing fully well they didn't have one for him. even if they lost a kid, which is horrible, they still owed a duty to their remaining children, but they completely failed them.

i would say maddie definitely held on to any pictures of younger buck if they took any, even if their parents didn't step up to the initiative, she would have definitely made sure there were pictures. maybe we didn't see them because the episode wanted to focus on the symbolism of the postcards, which gave both maddie and buck hope in their darkest times; or maybe maddie wasn't able to hang on to them while running away from doug. either way, while i'm sure the buckley parents wouldn't have cared about saving mementos of buck, maddie definitely would have, in one way or another!

#neethu answers #the buckley siblings

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legionofpotatoes · 3 years

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alright here’s ma thoughts on that flick I mentioned

we hatewatched a*my of the dead because we were CONVINCED “zombies in las vegas” would be an impossible concept to screw up, but in so assuming we obviously invoked a holy wager with the universe and got reminded, once again, that hoping for improvement from someone who’s dependably put out bad art is never a wise choice 😐

but we were honestly kinda roped in by the marketing??? and expected a goofy fast-paced flick with the odd traditional undead metaphor thrown in, framing some sort of relationship drama maybe or hell even nothing at all! we’d have taken pure indulgent storytelling, idk italian job with zombies in las vegas, I don’t know fucking anything but??? whatever this was???? spoilers below for it is time for One Of My Rants

I mean the main reason I really want to write all this and complain. this film here probably has the most unappealing cinematography I have ever experienced in my life and that is saying something. who the fuck signed off on that CONSTANT shallow-ass depth of field that imprisons your eyeline and turns every shot into bokeh paste???? and I mean every shot almost!!!! I promise if you think I am overreacting just throw a dart at the seek bar and watch twenty seconds from wherever it lands. it is horrifying to look at. at least it gave my girlfriend a good visual shorthand for what it’s like when I lose my glasses

why was sean spicer in this movie. did they pay him to be here. was sean spicer paid hollywood money for his scene in this film because fuck everyone who was involved in that decision

the legitimately baffling hints at the extraterrestrial origins of the infection that went absolutely nowhere and had no dramatic or plot-level bearing. we love to see the franchise sprouts fellas

yet another big budget waste of everything hiroyuki sanada has to offer. and bautista too I guess? I like him but man was this an odd career move

what was the crux of his conflict/resolution with his daughter btw. I understand it was rooted in miscommunication over their forms of grief irt mom but uhh… it was all rather clunky and didn’t land for me. I tried I really tried to buy in but something was wrong fundamentally with the groundwork there, it did not click and their catharsis felt unearned. I know there’s massive amounts of tragic baggage being projected there from the author so I’m not slapping any judgment down really;

but again it would be an easy thing to wave off if they just had a vibrant cast of lovable simpletons with good chemistry and the kinetic sense of plotting the trailers promised (and this premise never discounts good drama, either). but instead it was just two and a half (!) hours of meandering into situations the filmmaking instincts had no idea how to flow in and out of

to wit. I know talking about “bad pacing” is associated with armchair bullshit but consider the example of the scene were dieter does an out of nowhere little dance after childishly screaming but then still-killing a zombie, with the film framing this as a micro character triumph, and not a second later the bg soundtrack instantly fades into an orchestral score dramatizing a nearby mcguffin reveal, completely 180 degreeing the tone without a semblance of deft insert shot stitching or even I dont know a fucking jump cut maybe. now imagine this whiplash for 2.5 hrs uninterrupted

I will keep complaining about the length yeah because this was not a story requiring this much real estate to be told. Uhh in my humble and personal opinion, of course

[man sees zombie tiger] “this is crossing the line!” you can in fact write dialogue that is not utter nonsense that falls apart once you drill down its single fickle layer of referential meta winking. what line are you talking about. you have rules in this insane situation you’re in? total nitpick moment I know but it got burned in my brain for some reason. like a microcosm of the mismanaged dramatic instincts paired with weird writing that dots this movie. I am sure the director calls this either satire or genre deconstruction. I am SO sure

tumblr domino meme that goes from “dude getting sucked off while driving” to “entire las vegas literally nuked”

tig notaro is always great to see but once you know she’s been filmed as a separate greenscreen plate months after photography wrapped - cause she had to apparently replace some abusive asshole but that’s a whole other pig not worth fucking - it becomes impossible to unsee her odd detachment from everyone else in the movie lmao. it doesn’t really “ruin” anything on its lonesome but it is hard to unsee

why. was. sean. spicer. in. this. movie

a very simple key ingredient missing from fully turning lip service sympathy for main uruk hai dude into actual empathy that would generate meaningful conflict with hero family would be to spend a bit more time articulating what he internally wanted the most. because he was obviously trying to do something here with pointed agenda. a family, to have kids, build a caste system, save his wife’s head, return to his planet??? all of these could represent the bigger context in his psychology that spurred his vengeance but none of them are dramatically emphasized long enough for you to cheer him on. I’m not asking too much I promise. Articulating interiority of a mute character is pretty doable with deft cinema language, just gotta linger and hold a shot here and there for a few seconds, frame as his POV, donezo. I know this is also one of those like. “who cares” moments but the movie does, very evidently so, in making this guy an actual character. you can kinda piece it together and create a framework of sympathy for him, sure, but then again he ultimately becomes a foil to be killed and not defeated, so. Ehh whatever

quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was n

the rooftop helicopter fakout at the end was such an ass-backwards, manufactured moment of what could be a simple setup/payoff it just pissed me off??? you gain nothing by giving sad dad five seconds of pointless crisis that flips right back to previous status quo ANYWAY, except for a weaksauce waste of runtime, which could be used instead to get inside notaro’s head and actually SHOW the remorse form as she took off, literally maybe even a frown playing on her face as she’s headed for safety right before we cut back to drax and the kid. just a simple-ass, minimal, momentary setup for what is the most basic filmmaking trick of creating macro catharsis moments. Just???? g o d if you can’t even land that shit why are you even doing any of this

that lil run final pam did was very very charming and super choreographed in a way that was the tiiiniest bit overdone

the whole intro with the simul-backstories and posing with family photos was just… oddly motivated. what was the goal? “here’s what we’re fighting for” vignettes? why? it’s not a functional setup in that vein. what was all that

also I am sorry if this is insensitive but the reasons most characters end up articulating to justify going back into the hell that destroyed their lives makes them sound seriously insane

I dont like complaining about CGI (honestly) but so much of it in modern movies can achieve higher fidelity if the animation is simply subdued. Do not overengineer and over-apply 2D cell methodologies and kinematics to each tiny twitch and movement in a hyper 3D model and I promise you. it will look a thousand times more natural. look at thanos in those last two movies. your rendering and detail are absolutely perfect with the tiger you just have to let stuff sit instead of constantly simulating swaying hair strands and firing off all facial muscles at once. great moment at one point where makeup zombie horse and CG zombie tiger are both in one shot together and just by unnecessary amounts of movement alone you can tell who doesn’t belong. again; detail, rendering, compositing, lighting, all picture-perfect; but y’all just gotta let the animation breathe sometimes, and chill it out

plot holes don’t really matter to me but it was kinda funny how lilly decided not to mention the enormous wrinkle in intel pertaining to an actual territorial tribe of intelligent zombies that require human offerings to let you pass, just so that reveal could play out in real time through the joyous punishment of the cartoonishly misogynistic dude

total chad move for mister uruk hai and final pam to rule from a rusted swimming pool complex

the ending with vanderohe oh my god. with the. cash stacks at the airport register. and specifically them working in his favor. that is literally something you do to get arrested under suspicion of theft. it was almost played for laughs and I respect that. coulda been goofier. make these movies goofy ya dorks

anyway, weird, weird movie. bad marketing. message unclear (something something sins of the father???), baffling editing instincts, literal worst-looking cinematography I ever laid eyes upon. Confidently dying on that last hill

#text #long post #aotd spoilers #aotd critical

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jennycalendar · 3 years

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was going through ripper au nonsense and realized that i never posted this, oh my gosh??? largely because it is SUPER plotless and self-indulgent. but. so is the entirety of the ripper au. anyway some stuff that hasn’t (yet) officially made it into the ripper au but is mentioned in this mini fic:

spike and drusilla are like ripper and jenny’s weird couple friends. jenny gave drusilla a soul to help center her and then spike wanted one too because he felt left out. ripper and jenny were friends with them before the soul thing, though.

ripper and jenny have a TERRIFYING number of children, because they both really wanted to make their family as big as possible. the scoobies are around literally all the time tho so it’s not like they’re struggling to keep an eye on the kids. (this one is still a variable bc i’m not sure how it works characterization-wise, but it makes my brain happy and my mom and i talked about it for a really long time on the phone a year ago, so it’s probably gonna stay.)

Spike and Dru came over for tea that Wednesday. The newest little Calendar-Giles, who hadn’t officially met either of them, was utterly fascinated by Dru’s vamp face, and while Dru entertained Ripper’s brood Spike ducked into the kitchen to speak to the man himself. Ripper, who was holding the second-newest Calendar-Giles, looked a little bit worn, and happy about it; it was, Spike supposed, what happened when you had a ridiculous number of kids and a baby on the way.

“Do you and Jenny ever intend on stopping?” he asked

Ripper considered. “No.”

“You should,” said the second-littlest Calendar-Giles. “There’s no more room in the house for a baby and I don’t want to share.”

“Audrey, you’re already sharing,” Ripper pointed out.

“I don’t want to share more!” objected—Audrey, Spike reminded himself. The only one whose name he reliably remembered at this point was Alexandra, and that was mostly because she was an absolute hellion who took after all the scary parts of her parents. “This house is too small! Great-Aunts Vin and Sophie have a big house, why can’t we?”

“Great-Aunts Vin and Sophie are obscenely rich, darling,” said Ripper patiently, shifting Audrey to his hip. “We are—”

“Still pretty rich,” said Spike, “considering you’re supporting—how many kids? Twenty?”

“Seven,” said Ripper. He hesitated. “Not counting the one due in March.”

“Christ, it’s like the Sound of Music,” said Spike.

Jennifer, who was washing dishes, snort-laughed. “Feels like it,” she said. “I’d make a great Liesel.”

“Did you want something, Spike?” said Ripper, giving him a small, amused grin. It looked weird with the glasses, Spike thought.

“Yeah,” said Spike awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. “Uh. Maybe.”

Ripper sort of rolled his eyes a little, then said, “Jennifer, could you take Audrey out to your mum?”

“I can take me out to mama,” said Audrey loudly, twisting out of Ripper’s arms and half-tumbling to the floor. She hurried out of the room, and Jennifer (who was clearly old enough to take the hint) turned off the sink before following.

“Mate, I think you’re my best friend,” said Spike, blurting it out before he could lose his nerve. “Dru pointed out this morning—we’ve known you and Jenny for what, twenty years?”

“Twenty-something,” Ripper agreed gamely, smiling slightly. “Probably a bit less than that if we discount the years without the souls.”

“Yeah,” said Spike. “Yeah, and—you’re pretty much the only one I want to punch in the throat on a regular basis.”

He would have meant it as an insult, twenty-something years ago, but it came out sounding more like something vaguely friendly. Affectionate, even, which was bizarre in how natural it felt. Ripper was his best friend, Spike realized, in the weirdest fucking possible way.

“God,” said Ripper, grinning. “Why couldn’t we be like Jenny and Dru? Those two will just talk shit about us for hours and no one gets punched in the throat.”

Spike glanced out through the doorway, towards Ripper’s living room. Surrounded by what seemed like a thousand little kids, not counting Buffy and Faith on the sofa plus Willow and Xander in the foyer, Jenny and Dru were having one of their delightedly cheerful catch-up sessions. Their friendship had always been strong even when Dru hadn’t had a soul; Dru’s newfound conscience had made Jenny almost as sweetly determined to care for and protect her as Spike himself was. Which said a lot.

Spike was quite genuinely fond of Jenny, all things considered. But he didn’t think being friends with Ripper would be quite as fun if he and Ripper just sat around talking all the time. Still— “We could talk,” he suggested.

“Nah,” said Ripper, grinning. “Much more fun to kick you in the shins when you’re being an arse.”

“Fuck off,” said Spike, grinning back.

As it happened, the baby wanted to be born a little early—late February instead of early March—and Ripper did a ridiculous Panicky Thing at the hospital where he fretted over Jenny and the kids until Jenny (very in labor) shouted at him to leave me alone and let me do this thing, asshole. Spike, who had seen this coming a mile off, led Ripper patiently out into the waiting room, where the no-longer-youngest Calendar-Giles was nestled snugly in Dru’s arms.

“Hold your kid,” said Spike, taking the baby from Dru and handing it unceremoniously to Ripper. Ripper stumbled, arms curling protectively around it, and Spike said, rolling his eyes, “Jen’s old hat at this, mate.”

“The baby’s early,” said Ripper, “and she’s not as young as she was when we had Jennifer—”

“Do not,” said Spike, “ever say that around your wife.”

Ripper huffed, indignation replacing fear. “I’m not a moron—”

“Oh,” said Spike, “is that why you’re having a complete and total meltdown over a pregnancy that’s two weeks early? It’s going to be fine.”

Dru gave Spike a reproving look, as though he was the one being an idiot right now. Standing up, she placed her hands over Ripper’s on the baby. “You know Jenny’s going to be fine,” she said very gently. “So do I, as a matter of fact. But I think she’d rather like you to be there when the baby comes—and I think you need to be a little calmer if she’s going to let you in the room again.”

Ripper looked to Spike, eyes wide and vulnerable.

It was a simple gesture, but it struck Spike: he was Ripper’s best friend. This was his moment to shine. Before the soul, he might have deliberately fucked it up, just because he thought it might be funny. Now—

“You love her a lot, yeah?” said Spike, in that gentle, careful voice he used on Dru’s off days. “It’s perfectly fine to be scared, long as you don’t scare her. Be scared all you want when the kid’s here and she’s resting. We can go out for drinks and you can cry some manly tears or something, just—not while she’s going through something like that. She needs you.”

Ripper’s face had changed, very slightly; it was clear Spike’s words had resonated with him. After a few more moments of consideration, he nodded, then left, the baby still in his arms.

“That wasn’t abysmal,” said Dru, giving Spike a small, sidelong smile. “I’ve seen you do worse.”

“Thanks ever so,” said Spike dryly, kissing her temple.

It was nearing morning, so Spike and Dru had to reluctantly slip out of the hospital before the sun rose and they were burned to a crisp. Spike got the text from Ripper about an hour after they’d reached their basement-level apartment:

thx mate. helped a lot. jenny and baby doing great.

Just as Spike was typing a reply, the second message came from Ripper:

we named him william.

Any manly tears that were shed at the receiving of that message were strictly Spike’s business.

#fic #ripper au #calendiles #(implied)#sprusilla #(also implied)#anyway i adhere to the school of thinking that spike and drusilla were the most functional relationship on btvs you can't prove me wrong

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dessarious · 4 years

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Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt77

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

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Damian spent the next day with Marinette at the hotel. Chloe and Luka both had school and Mari needed someone to keep her calm before the meeting with the Justice League. Not to mention Damian did not want to be stuck in the apartment with Drake. When Hawkmoth was unmasked it created a lot of ripples that everyone was still reeling from. Françoise Dupont was one more casualty. Between the ongoing investigation that was happening because of what happened to Marinette and the fact that Hawkmoth’s son went there the school was shut down until they found new staff at the very least. Since Damian hadn’t transferred yet he was off until it went through.

“So how’s your family taking the announcement?” He figured she’d ask eventually but it had taken her three hours so he’d give her points for restraint.

“The same way they take everything. It’s just one more thing for them to make fun of and overanalyze.” He saw her expression go hard and when she spoke there was a dangerous edge to her voice.

“They’re making fun of your sexuality?” He actually shivered at her tone. This was why Batman himself was terrified of this tiny girl.

“No. More making jokes about me having a significant other at all. Apparently they all decided that if I was ever to show interest in someone it would definitely not be reciprocated. At the moment they seem to be debating whether I’m making the whole thing up or holding my boyfriend’s family hostage to get dates.” It was their usual nonsense and he was used to it. Marinette however looked ready to transform and go back to Gotham to ‘talk’ to them.

“You should tell them that’s not okay. You shouldn’t be so worried about dealing with them that you’re afraid of living your life.” Damian just scowled at her in annoyance.

“I’m not afraid of those idiots.” She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I didn’t say you were. But how many times do you decide to not do something because you don’t want to deal with the fallout? How often do you debate whether it’s worth it to do something that actually makes you happy because you think they’ll give you shit for it? They need to know that’s not okay. You should be able to live your life without being concerned about what they’ll say or do.” That made sense, to a point anyway. When he really considered it he realized she was right. It never would have occurred to him to ask to go to an arts school because he didn’t want to listen to their comments. At the same time, it was how they acted with everyone in the family.

“They don’t just do it to me you know. They constantly harass each other just as much. I could just ignore it and not let it control my actions.” He hadn’t realized how much it did control his actions if he was being honest. That was one of the many things he’d learned about himself because of his friendship with Marinette. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“That doesn’t make it alright. Just because they don’t discriminate in their stupidity doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be called out on it. Just like when I call you out for being an asshole.” He gave her a flat look but she just smiled at him. It was becoming harder to keep a straight face around her and he couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

“Any idea what you’re going to say to the Justice League?” All else fails, redirect the conversation. Marinette grimaced at the question before blowing out an annoyed breath.

“I assume that Superman is going to start before I can get a word in edgewise so having an actual speech planned out is pointless. There’s only a few things I want to make clear. First that the ban to travel to Paris will be lifted at the end of the week in case of ‘loose ends’. Mainly I just want them to stew about the fact that they can’t do whatever they please.” Damian let out a snort of laughter at that. Given the way they’d all tried to descend on Paris the moment Hawkmoth’s capture hit the news he understood why she was doing it. They didn’t wait to confirm she had in fact caught the real villain and could have just been putting Paris at risk. “Second, that they still have absolutely no authority over the Miraculous themselves. Having Wonder Woman’s backing should help with that but I wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of them try to tell me to give them the Miraculous. And third, if any of them think tracking us down to take them is a good idea they’ll get the full force of the wrath the Kwami are capable of. Given that Plagg destroyed the dinosaurs in an ‘oops’ moment they should probably be worried about what he can do when angered.”

“As much as I would like to believe words will work, you may have to do another demonstration.” Marinette just nodded at him. She knew as well as he did that this wasn’t going to be easy. It was highly probable that they’d spend the next six months or so showing various members of the League that they needed to back off. Yet another reason for him to stay in Paris. Damian still didn’t understand why Marinette didn’t just ask him for the civilian identities of the heroes so she could deal with them herself. “Did you figure out which wheelchair you want to get? My father said he’d pay the difference if you need something out of your price range.”

“That’s a kind offer but I’m not struggling for money. My business has actually gotten even better since the fashion show. I might actually have to hire some people to make the clothing so I can concentrate on design if I don’t want to start turning people away. I’m also getting a lot of interest from clothing manufacturers about designing discount clothing to market to a broad audience. Honestly just doing one of those would likely have me set for life. I’m just glad I’m at the point where this won’t completely destroy my parents financially. While it’s nice to know they love me enough to sell the bakery and move somewhere that’s accessible to me I would never want them to have to.”

“Well if you need tips or names of people to help with that, Drake would be a good source. I know that you have Jagged stone but global manufacturing is different from music in a lot of ways. Wayne Enterprises deals with a lot more of the problems you’re likely to see.” She nodded thoughtfully before offering him a bright smile.

“Thanks, I might just do that. It’ll be helpful to talk to someone who knows the ins and outs of things. I was actually going to ask you since I have a feeling you know a lot more about your father’s business than you let on.” Damian just blinked at her for a moment before giving out a sigh and pulled out his phone to send her a list he’d put together. It was names and numbers of people in the company who could help her along with various laws, specifically intellectual copyright laws, and some other things to do with business. She just gave him another bright smile before she started drawing in her sketchbook again. He really wished he could figure out how she did that.

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#maribat #marinette dupen chang #Damian Wayne #bffmaridami

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monstcrmade · 3 years

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@sanguisfulgur || For Wren

The man caught her eye the second he stepped into the cozy little bar. He was handsome with his dark hair and deep brown eyes and those high cheekbones of his only added to his already good looks. As if sensing his presence, several eyes turned to the man. Some stared and she couldn’t blame them. Especially not with that strange natural aura around him that was oddly pleasing.

The woman across from her finished fishing out a ten dollar bill from her purse and handed it over with a thank you for the reading before she excused herself to join her group of friends in a booth at the other side of the bar.

Unoccupied now, she kept her eyes trained on the man and when he got close enough to her table she leaned over in her chair ever so slightly as to catch his attention. “Want a reading?” she asked pleasantly, gesturing with a hand to the stack of tarot cards before her, her numerous silver bangles jangling upon her wrist.

This was just one of the many odd jobs she’d adopted since moving into the area. It paid more for groceries than her rent or clothes but it was a relatively nice little side hustle that kept some money in her pocket and she enjoyed doing it. Cities like this there was no shortage of those who were eager for a trick even if her readings were accurate.

Impressively, despite all the years of running she’d been doing, Gwendolyn had never been to New York until now. Perhaps with the vastness of the city and her being no one of great importance, she’d be able to remain longer than usual. At first she’d taken up residence in small, out of the way towns but that always had her packing up and moving on in a month or two, if she was particularly lucky. Now she was sticking to cities and it bought her slightly more time but with a place like the Big Apple, she was hoping the incredibly dense population would do better in shielding her from Albert Kincaid. Number one asshole and monster in her book.

That was the reason for her not keeping a stable job. Easier to disappear that way. Besides, she liked engaging with more witchy aspects anyways. Even her clothes exuded such a thing: the wide brimmed hat that was settled upon the crown of her head, her crisp white shirt that had ruffles down the front, the sleeved kimono shawl she wore that was decorated tastefully with moons and stars, she even wore black leather pants and heeled boots that reached her knees.

When people looked at her they thought ‘witch’ and she liked it that way. Her thick, black hair which cascaded down her back in gorgeous waves and her honey colored eyes really helped to sell it too.

“Cute customers get a discount,” Gwendolyn said with a wink. “And it’ll only be a minute of your time. I promise my readings are very good.”

Being a human familiar helped with that. She might not have the complete powers of a witch and her own magic was weak but there was a little there, enough that she could bring forth without a witch using her as an amplifier for their own power.

Whilst she herself hated being a familiar, she knew it wasn’t terrible for everyone. Most every human familiar was tied to a witch they got along well with, many even fell in love with their witch but not her. She drew up a very short straw and nobody could help her but herself it seemed.

“So what do you say?”

#sanguisfulgur #v;evening star #;threads (gwendolyn)

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rayne-storm · 3 years

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AUgust 14 - Chefs

Title: WENN LIEBE IN DIR IST… UND GUTES ESSEN

Fandom: Tanz Der Vampyr

Alfred/Herbert, Graf/Sarah

This is my favourite musical. Straight up. You cannot get better than this. Maybe "Master and Margarita" but I haven't found a good bootleg of it.

I really hope you guys like this one!!!

Oh, there they were again. That damned truck with it's bombastic orchestral music, the catchy paintings, and the obnoxious sign boy. Alfred knew they were doing this on purpose, parking there because they knew how much it pissed off the staff of his own restaurant. Sure, it wasn't really "his" restaurant. It really belonged to Abronsius, the eclectic perfectionist who taught him everything.

And there the sign boy went, platinum hair flowing ever so delicately on the wind. He chatted up anyone that came by, and of course the mesh shirt mixed with the weird cape thing only made the spectacle that much more intriguing.

Alfred must have been glaring for too long because the blond eventually turned and winked straight at him through the window.

Damnit!

His face must have turned red because Abronsius asked him what was wrong, and he quickly made up some excuse about the heat before going back into the kitchen.

"You know," Sarah - the newest pastry chef - whispered, "their food's really good, and the sign dancer guy is single~" she teased.

Alfred felt his face pucker like he'd eaten a lemon.

Yes, the man was attractive, but from what Abronsius had said, they were all bad sorts there. But… well… whatever. Whatever. He had soups to make.

---

Three nights later. They were back. He had the evening off. Fuck. He was pissed. Abronsius had denied him a raise again. He shouldn't have been surprised, but if always stung when he was educated on exactly why he wasn't worth an extra two dollars an hour.

He knew he was young, sure, but he wasn't stupid or incompetent, he didn't have wrong priorities. He wasn't any of the things that stodgy old bastard said. And all he had wanted was two (2) more dollars. It wouldn't have even made him the highest paid (even discounting the profits he knew the old asshole was keeping).

So he wanted to make the man upset. As the sounds of Tchaikovsky drifted towards him, he couldn't help smirking. He hoped Abronsius was watching. Hoped Abronsius saw him ordering off the competition's menu, and he fully planned on eating right outside the restaurant, in full view from the large glass windows.

"Well hello there, finally come to see what all the fuss is about?"

Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't heard anyone approaching, but there he was: the sign guy. Blond haired, pale skinned, and just, umf, fucking beautiful.

Alfred felt his heart rate increase just from the sheer proximity.

"I-I-I, uhm, yeah. Uh, m-mostly, well, I, uh, wanted to p-piss off my boss."

Real smooth, dipshit!

Sarah was right. He was hopeless.

The guy grinned and, of all things, kissed his hand.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I thought I might have to venture into that tacky place to properly say hello."

Alfred honestly didn't disagree. The restaurant was called Knoblauch, which just meant "garlic" and the interior was kind of gaudy. Not that he would have ever dared say so.

"I, uh- wait. You wanted to see me?"

"Every day since I first spotted your adorable pout, yes."

It was effortless the way this guy flirted and Alfred was just getting more and more shy.

"I'm… um… that's sweet. Thanks."

"So did Sarah get you to take a look? She's been very chatty about you, you know."

Ah fuck.

"I, uh, I mean, maybe I guess, but, uh-"

"She says you're a single hopeless romantic, and I really hope she's right," the man interrupted, and whoops, there went Alfred's ability to speak anything but flustered gibberish entirely.

The man leaned down and grinned.

"My name's Herbert von Krolock. What's yours?"

Oh, Alfred knew this man knew, but he couldn't help answering anyway, stuttering it out.

Herbert grinned. "You're so cute! Do you wanna have dinner with me? Now?"

"U-u-uh, um, I mean, uh, I…. Yes…?"

Herbert took his hands (both of them, like this was some kinda romcom), and led him over to the side of the food truck, music playing louder there, and the magnificent frescoes truly visible. They were gothic scenes, dark balls. Alfred couldn't help liking them, for whatever reason.

Then another beautiful man appeared, pale and salt-and-pepper tied in a neat bun.

"Oh, the boy finally came. What shall we have tonight?"

Herbert smiled and nudged Alfred, who realized in a panic he had no idea what kind of food they even sold. The man seemed to take pity on him, luckily.

"Let's start you with a sampler, then. I know it's a wide variety… I'm glad you stopped by. Sarah speaks highly of you," he added with a small smile.

If he survived this Sarah was getting the bougiest fucking brunch ever.

Hebert led him to a small table over to the side to wait.

"You know, Graf is head over heels for her, but he's afraid his age will put her off," the blond murmured conspiratorially.

Alfred couldn't help snorting softly.

"She has a thing for older guys, actually. He should go for it."

Herbert grinned brightly. "I'll try to let him know that…"

Alfred couldn't help smiling. Was it something in the air? Who knew? He just… was having the best night he'd had in a long time.

The food was ready and Herbert got it, stopping only briefly to greet visitors. Alfred was a little surprised, since he always seemed so sociable before, inviting people in.

"What's the look for, hmm?"

Alfred was startled again by the quietness of Herbert's steps.

"O-oh! Nothing, really. Just… you always seem so chatty when…"

"When you spy on me from your little restaurant? I am. But tonight I'm on a date with a very cute guy, and he gets all my attention."

Alfred once again lost all coherence, nibbling at a strawberry to hide his sheepishness.

Herbert just chuckled, and began telling him about the food truck.

Graf (the owner, Mr. Sexy Older Guy) had taught himself to cook after dealing with a very hard childhood, and one day he decided he would take his knowledge out and feed others. He quickly became popular as a caterer at parties, the rich-people kind, like masquerade balls and that kinda thing.

He still did them sometimes. But his true love lay in cooking for the masses, it seemed, out on the street, in parks, at games. He decided to take the Balls and Parties with him.

"That's… really cool," Alfred admitted.

"Yeah? I think so. But we might have to give it up… he's thinking of doing a world tour in his golden years," Herbert began with a wry smirk, "as though he ever plans on retiring… but he wants an apprentice. I'm no good at anything except cold foods and people-pleasing…"

Alfred sighed and shook his head. Just his luck. He found a new favourite place and they were closing.

"I mean, you seem pretty good at what you do…" Herbert added suggestively.

"Wait, wait, what? Me?"

"Yeah. You. You're not the only one that spies from time to time. You seem really passionate about food. And fast. And competent in general."

Everything that Abronsius berated him for not being.

"I… is this all just a ploy? To poach from the competition?" He asked, stiffening. It was one thing to be all flirty and friendly, an entirely other thing to-

"What? No. Of course not! I'm not so shallow I'd do that."

Herbert looked genuinely hurt and offended. Fuck.

"I… I… I'm sorry it's just… I'm pretty often reminded that I'm a young, stupid know-nothing that'll never make it on my own and all…" Alfred muttered bitterly.

"That old hack doesn't know what he's talking about."

Graf's voice came from nowhere, and you know what? Alfred could live in a state of permanent heart-attacks. That was fine.

"What? You know him?"

"That pompous blowhard is the reason I never went to culinary school. Way back when, he made everyone's life hell because it had to be his way or nothing, because he knew how to cook 'properly' and we knew nothing."

"....so I take it he hasn't changed much."

"Nope. Almost ruined food for me. I decided I'd never go through anything that would turn me into a rude monster like that."

"Well, I'm quitting tomorrow, so I don't blame you."

Graf chuckled. "Why bother with that courtesy? Just come work for me. Rub it in his face. Bring the girl too. Take his two best kids from him."

Yeah. That… that sounded good.

"You know what? I think I will. If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make."

He walked over to the other side of the truck, a little ways away, where he could look in and see the kitchen. And there was Sarah, flinching at something the old bastard was saying.

He called her number.

He almost couldn't believe it when she picked up.

"Look outside," he directed. She did, and gave him a wave and a bright smile.

"How do you like it?!”

"So much I'm gonna work here. I quit. You should too. They asked for you by name."

"Say no more."

She hung up, and without further ado completely stripped off her uniform, leaving her in a sports bra and leggings (cause let's be real it got fucking hot in that kitchen sometimes), and she just sauntered on out.

Herbert started laughing, and Alfred turned just in time to see the look on Graf's face as his dulcet darling was strutting over.

"So, you want to give a recently unemployed girl a job?" She asked with a bright smile.

Alfred was glad he wasn't the only one who sometimes forgot how to speak.

Herbert took over, and the pair quickly bantered a deal, and Alfred just took a minute to watch.

They looked good, all together like that. Almost like a family.

Of course, then Herbert glanced up at him, and gave him another of those heart-stopping winks.

Well.

Carpe noctem and all that.

#my writing #rayne writes #au-gust #au gust 2021 #fanfic #tanz der vampire

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vagrantblvrd · 4 years

Note

yes hello may i please ask for snippets or not!fic of Nicky and Joe

Well hello there, friend!

You have asked for things I would love to gush about for forever because these two with the owning of my heart?

(Disclaimer: I’m not sure how ~in character/canon any of this would be because I’ve not had time to read the comics yet, but anyway!)

Also, this is totally going to be rambling not!fic so I hope that’s okay?

But just imagine being neighbors with Joe and Nicky, you know?

These two nice young men who are either really good friends or really good friends *wink wink* , if you know what I mean?

I’m totally imagining them having this nice little apartment somewhere when they’re not with the team or that year they reference in the movie where apparently they weren’t hero-ing about as a team?

At least one (1) little old lady in the same building and of course they help her with the groceries and errands, fixing things around her place that break that would take the landlord forever to get to. (And probably hire someone who’d do a terrible job of it.)

Sweet young men, and you know there would be all these jokes from them about this little old lady making them feel old because she’s taking a class for whatever hip, new exercise trend is making the rounds at the time at the community center a few blocks down and they’re yet to step foot in the place themselves and so on.

She’s delighted/blushing because such sweet young men? Meanwhile Joe and Nicky are sharing this look over her head because lol, if only she knew?

And of course she laughs and swats their arm all, you rascals, as they escort her up to her apartment after running into one another in the lobby or whatever.

Joe’s carrying her groceries and Nicky’s all :D at her - not flirting, goodness no, Joe would get jealous, he swears.

But also, okay, also.

Single mom with a kid in the building (I’m going hard on my fave cliches/tropes, sorry) and they help keep an eye on the kid when they’re around and the whatnot?

Like when Single Mom and her kid moved in there’s sort of kind of a basketball court out back? But no one’s used it in years and it’s a mess. The net/chain from the net is long gone/rusted away and the paint on the court is faded and it’s more the kind of place people toss stuff too big to haul off to the dump without renting a truck and why bother with the hassle when they can set it there and just...forget to do the thing they told themselves they’d do one day?

So, yeah.

And it’s like.

There’s this day where the kid’s out back practicing ball control or whatever, and every so often you can hear the ball get away from them because wow, yeah.

The surface of the court’s a little torn up, cluttered, crowded and there’s not enough room to do much without running into junk.

This little moment where they’re watching a movie or a show or whatever and that sound over and over and this well clearly someone has to do something kind of moment between them expressed in looks and eyebrows, right?

Maybe they’ve been hero-ing on the side or whatever, small, local things because I sincerely doubt they’d just not if there wasn’t a dire reason for it, you know? (Someone actively looking for them, and even then...yes.)

Anyway, anyway.

There’s a home improvement store not too far away and they have coupons, discount vouchers, whatever from fixing up their own place.

(I really want there to be at least one (1) hidden compartment/sekrit hiding place because much weaponry, and sure, let’s put this one in America because reasons? But also seriously suspect.)

Not asking too much to use those coupons/vouchers on stuff to fix the basketball court up, repaint it and put up new net/chain if not replace the baskets completely.

Weekend project that may take longer than anticipated if the team goes out to hero or whatever, but it gets done.

Has some of their neighbors getting curious enough to see what they’re doing, and then it’s a group project.

The kid is like !!! and cautiously hopeful about things because hey, you know, it’s nice of them and all? But also why? What do they get out of it?

Little Old Lady bakes cookies and the whatnot and someone brings lunch and it’s just a lovely bonding moment for everyone in the building.

AND THEN.

When the basketball court’s back to its old glory there must be a basketball game?

Vicious game of H.O.R.S.E. at the very least, and of course Little Old Lady takes part.

There’s an unspoken agreement to take it easy on her because little old lady? But then it’s revealed she used to play professional basketball, and also Joe and Nicky are sweet and all?

But they’re sloppy players, and then scores another letter without breaking a sweat and then it’s back to the way H.O.R.S.E. should be played. (No-holds barred cutthroat style. Except for maybe not so much because kid? But yes.)

Little Old Lady teams up with the kid against them once the others drop out - because picnic the building set up and it’s a nice day and idk, happy funtimes and people enjoying one another’s company while Joe and Nicky get utterly destroyed at H.OR.S.E.

These and other lovely shenanigans?

But also that time a Baddie tracks them down.

Because of course it has to happen, right? Not necessarily someone who knows about the whole immortality business so much as some hired goon with an axe (lol) to grind and they’re the asshole’s target?

Or maybe it’s a new baddie who’s head of the team and some operation of theirs or an ally’s the team fucked up but good, and decide they can’t let that stand.

Joe and Nicky happen to be the ones they find first - luck or whatever else - and it starts out civil, as these things go.

Goons in suits knocking on doors around the building and asking questions, hold up photos of Joe and Nicky taken from security cameras/snooping about.

And of course, of course, the entire building is fiercely protective of those two sweet young men, you know?

Why Joe and Nicky could never do those horrible things the goons (posing as federal agents with shiny badges and all) say they did. Why, those two couldn’t hurt a fly! You’ve got the wrong people, agents.

Joe and Nicky know something’s going on, but they’ve got Team business and are away a fair amount as the Baddie sets things in motion, right?

Come back after one bout of heroing to Little Old Lady showering them in baked good and all? Invites herself in to help them put it all away and chides them about not watering that one houseplant someone gave them as a gift not too long ago and so on.

Just.

Unusual behavior from her and the others. Even the kid is acting weird, telling Joe and Nicky their mom wants to thank them for the basketball court restoration thingamabob by having them over to dinner.

(Belated kind o deal because that was months ago, but she had a big project at work and all these other things since and anyway, anyway, she’d like to have them over to thank them and of course they can’t say no to that, you know?)

The baddie has his goons watch the building, and happen to see Joe and Nicky getting back from another “business trip”, but before they can get to them Little Old Lady pops up and commandeers Joe and Nicky. Needs their help moving her couch or what have you.

And then, okay, everything makes sense with what their neighbors have been doing, protecting them from the baddie’s goons and whatnot?

Sweet as it is, they can’t let it go on because someone’s going to get hurt.

But they play along for the moment, let Little Old Lady and the kid and everyone else think they’re getting away with it (only everyone knows what’s going on - no one’s trying that hard to hide the truth about it, so long as they keep the goons from hurting Joe and Nicky and just. Yeah?)

But then!

The goons get tired of everyone’s interference and go after Joe and Nicky and the fighting begins!

Super cool choreography using the environment (and hidden weapons compartments and such???) and also swords, because of course.

The fighting spills out of Joe and Nicky’s place and down the hallway - Little Old Lady opens her door and trips one of the goons who’s taking aim at Nicky before slamming it shut and taking cover - and by the end of it it’s pretty damn obvious that Joe and Nicky are far from harmless?

Like.

The expected amount of blood and bits and bodies. Joe and Nicky restrained themselves because civilian environment, and also cops aren’t fond of responding to a call to find a literal bloody massacre greeting them.

Also, trying not to traumatize the kid. (Who incredible, yes, but still a kid and even the adults who see what happened are a little yikes, you know?)

ANYWAY.

Joe and Nicky are like, well, damn, because no way they can just keep on living there after all that, right?

Still have to deal with the head baddie and also no way anyone in the building wants people capable of what they did around?

AND YET.

Little Old Lady plays up the little old lady aspect? Granny perfume, knitted shawl, bifocals and oh, my, and goodness, look at all the mess, and could you speak up, young lady, my hearing’s not what it used to be and so on as the cops take her witness account.

Single Mom is just. :O that something like that could have happened, and are Joe and Nicky okay? They’re such nice people. Always a kind word, and so helpful! It’s just awful that something like this happened to them.

Joe and Nicky just ??? while looking like horror movie survivors (...or not, because that’s a lot blood and do you two need medical care?), one of them half-heartedly trying to hide the sword they’re still holding where the cops won’t notice it.

(They did, though. They so did.)

The poor cops who have been called to a horrific scene and are met with everyone’s concern for Joe and Nicky while the goons are carted away for medical care/morgue.

Absolutely know Joe and Nicky are far from innocent in all this? And yet! They are the victims here, right? Minding their own business and attacked by goons in their own home, why of course they had no choice but to defend themselves.

(Also, also, I am choosing to make Single Mom a lawyer or soon-to-be lawyer in this because it makes me stupidly happy? Like the cops are all “Okay, yes, but the swords???” while she’s like “Officer, please,” because America and there’s a store down the street that sells assault rifles for God’s sake. Seriously.)

In the end the cops can’t actually charge them for anything - okay, wait, no. Noise violation or some such because the goons with their guns and later the screaming?

The cops aren’t that interested in digging into matters because reasons? Joe and Nicky being so popular among their neighbors, sure, but other things like the basketball court and such that helped make their jobs easier? Low-key neighborhood watch and so on ~disguised as helping neighbors to and from their cars while chatting about their day and then maybe anonymous/not-so-anonymous tips about shady types loitering about.

(Look. Distinct accents? But also backgroiund noise and Joe/Nicky asking the other what they want for dinner and the cops are just. Plausible deniability all the way on this one.)

But whatever.

Joe and Nicky are like uh, what now?

The obvious, smart thing to do would be to move somewhere else after dealing with head baddie?

But it’s such a nice neighborhood and once thet/the team deal with head baddie there shouldn’t be a problem if they stick around for a couple more years before having to move on because lol, they don’t seem to have aged a day and all that.

Also, though, also.

Some time after all that hullabaloo and Andy and Nile stop by to make sure Joe and Nicky aren’t getting into trouble? (Ahaha, yeah. I’m pretty sure Andy and Nile would be the ones getting into trouble, but I digress.)

Just.

Andy and Little Old Lady staring one another down?

Little Old Lady taking in Andy’s axe in its carrying bag and doing that sniff, head toss thing before telling her she better not get those boys in trouble, understand?

Nile is looking between Little Old Lady and Andy like this is the best goddamn thing she’s ever seen, super freaking delighted and desperately wishing she could record it all to show Joe and Nicky because you know they’d love it too?

Andy all Cool and Haughty but secretly/not-so-secretly loving Little Old Lady and just, yessss.

They get the same treatment from all of Joe and Nicky’s neighbors they run across just to get to their apartment.

And when they finally get there it’s like. If they didn’t know something went down before all that, they sure as hell know now, you know?

Andy just gives them this look because of course this isn’t the first time something like happened with Joe and Nicky.

And, sure. They probably told Andy about it all as a precaution/matter of habit in case Something Happened to/with them? But they also handled it fine on their own, but now she and Nile get all the juicy details that couldn’t/always sound better in person over drinks and food and family meeting up again and yeah.

AND.

Some poor cop following up on Joe and Nicky or something only to be greeted by Andy (possibly holding her axe not in its carrying bag because cleaning/sharpening/honing it or Deep Emotional Moment involving it and probs a flashback or whatever) and is just

!!! before telling her why they’re there and getting the hell out as soon as they can because they’ve heard stories about The Incident with Joe and Nicky and there were swords involved?

Like.

Actual swords???

And now some lady has an axe??????

So, yes???

I feel I glossed over Joe and Nicky and their stupid adorable lives with the making dinner together and in-jokes and absent-minded kisses in the morning or in passing whenever?

Bickering/teasing and stealth!kisses.

(Also? Sparring and swordplay because they wouldn’t want to get sloppy! Also stealing kisses and pinned to surfaces and cocky grins/smirks and you know how this kind of thing goes, so yeah.)

But also, also.

I don’t know how alcohol affects them with the whole immortality/healing thing they’ve got going on? I’d assume they can’t really get drunk anymore, but!

The thought of Joe being a little tipsy or what have you while Nile is introducing the team to a movie or show and says something involving the phrase “It’s a love letter to....” regarding a remake or genre or actor or what have you, right?

Only for Joe to be “Love letter? Love letter?! They don’t know the first thing about love letters!” and goes off on a rant/composes a love letter on the spot to Nicky who is :DDDD and looking at Joe all sickeningly in love with him because yes, this is not a situation that deserves such ~passion for a thing? And yet, it’s Joe and he’s staring into Nicky’s eyes as he speaks and Nicky’s like, :DDDD because feelings and such. (Also, I feel Joe would finish his love letter to Nicky with another passionate kiss, so Nicky’s not about to interrupt him on that one, you know?

Meanwhile Nile is like “Please, no, this is the millionth time you’ve done this since I met you guys and I just want to show you this thing. I’m sorry I said anything, Andy please do something about them?”

Andy’s sitting there like, ah, yes, my idiots all soft and fond and sappy as shit over her team/family as Nile tries to get Joe to maybe save his heartfelt love letter to Nicky for after the movie instead?

#the old guard #joe x nicky #joe/nicky #prompt fills #Anon #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Anonymous

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eryiss · 4 years

Text

Event: LGBTQA+ Month hosted by @ft-wwtdp

Ship: Fraxus ( Freed Justine x Laxus Dreyar)

Prompts: Love, Gift, Brave, Tease, Quirk.

Verse: Canon Compliant

Alternate Places To Read: Fanfiction, Archive of our Own. Event master list here.

This is the first batch of submissions for the Fairy Tail LGBTQA+ week. I’m putting five drabbles per post as not to spam the tags, and I’ll make a new post every five days. Hope you enjoy them.

Day One – Love (Of A Stubborn Thief)

Despite what many people thought, Laxus had always had a good handle on his emotions.

He always knew what he felt, had always been good at realising what his feelings were and what they meant, and he had enough emotional intelligence to understand other people's feelings as well. Thanks to his father's influence, there had been a time where he would shut off his emotions, but even then he had known what he was feeling. Even at his worse, he understood people and he understood himself.

It was because of this emotional intelligence that he wasn't shocked when he realised he was in love with Freed.

They'd been dating for a few months by then, and it had been incredible. Having this extra layer of intimacy with the other man made him feel comfortable, happy, and warmer. It was as if every second was just a little bit better than it could have been with Freed being only a friend. A small but constant improvement, and one Laxus had no intention of giving up.

It wasn't a particularly big moment that lead him to understand what he felt for Freed. It was in the middle of august, and the two of them were shopping in Magnolia's marketplace for everything they would need for the upcoming week. Laxus had been tasked at getting meat from the butcher's cart, while Freed made his way through the produce stands. Shopping together was something they had started to do three weeks prior, and although Laxus hadn't admitted it, he was rather fond of it now. Before, it had been a chore, but it was somehow pleasant when Freed was with it.

Laxus had never guessed he would enjoy the domestic side of a relationship this much.

After getting all the meat they needed – which was a lot, given they were intending to have a barbeque in the upcoming days – he began to walk towards the fruit and vegetable sections of the market. When he got in earshot of Freed, a grip split on his face.

"You and I both know that you're overcharging. I am not going to pay double the worth for a punnet of strawberries," Freed had snapped, voice a little harsh.

"Then you ain't shopping here," The vender said, and even with the distance between them Laxus could see Freed's jaw clench a little.

Laxus decided to stay back. This would be fun to watch.

The following few minutes were quite entertaining for Laxus. Freed, as he often did when he saw something he identified as an injustice, decided to use every tool available to make his point. One moment he had worked out the exact price of an individual strawberry – which was admittedly quite high – and was loudly making sure the people around them knew it. The next moment, he was explain the many health code rules that the vendor was breaking, and threatening him with an impromptu visit from the governing authorities so that they could see these violations.

After glancing at the vendor, who had turned from a confident extortionist to a bumbling victim of Freed's calm but effective threats, Laxus decided to approach. If left too long, Freed might make it known he had a weapon attached to his hip. That might be taking it a little too far.

Although, it would be funny.

As he got closer to his boyfriend, Laxus thought back to when he first met Freed. He had expected the other man to be a reserved and calm figure, lacking the eccentricities that made up Fairy Tail's members. Makarov had once confessed that he thought Freed would be a calming influence on Laxus, as he was one of the more mature members of the guild. Looking at him threaten a man's livelihood for a discount on some fruit, it was hard to believe that was the case.

"Hey," Laxus greeted, standing beside Freed. "Everything alright?"

"I'm simply refusing to be a victim to a scam," Freed explained, and Laxus fought off a grin.

"As I said before," The vendor continued, though his tone was unsure now. "I am not going to lower my prices because someone in threatening me."

"They are pretty expensive though," Laxus said smoothly, before Freed could cut in. "Maybe you could knock twenty percent off, get us out of your hair. I think we both know that this asshole ain't gonna give in."

The vendor took a moment to think, cussed under his breath, before offering a lower price. Laxus brought his wallet out and paid for the food before Freed could barter it down lower – there weren't many fruit vendors in the market, they couldn't afford to be backlisted by the best one – and started to walk away. Freed joined him a moment later, walking beside him as they began to left the market.

Freed was quiet, and Laxus assumed it was out of annoyance that he hadn't managed to get a bigger discount. But when he looked to his side, he saw that Freed was eating what appeared to be a peach, and Laxus frowned. That hadn't been part of what they intended to buy.

"Where did you get that, Freed?" Laxus asked with an amused expression on his face.

"The fruit stall, of course," Freed said, and Laxus let out a single laugh.

"Did you pay for it?"

"It's entirely dependent on what you consider paying to mean," Freed shrugged. "If you mean I paid the amount he wanted, then no. If you mean I covered the cost of overcharging by getting what my money was worth, then I did pay for them."

"So you stole it?" Laxus laughed, before furrowing his brows. "Wait, them? How much did you steal?"

Freed reached into his pocked and pulled out another peach, offering it to Laxus. The blonde looked at it for a moment, shaking his head in a mixture of both amusement and disbelief. His boyfriend – the man many people claimed was a voice of reason inf Fairy Tail – had actually stolen some fruit because he believed that he was being overcharged. He seemed completely unrepentant about it, and Laxus knew that if he objected Freed would stubbornly defend himself to an inch of his breath.

And it was then, when he took the stolen peach for himself, he realised he was in love with him.

The moment he realised it, everything seemed to make sense. Because of course he loved this ridiculous, stubborn, incredible idiot. Who else could he love? Who else could make him feel as he did? Who else was so perfect for Laxus?

It was a warm feeling, a feeling of solidity and comfort that Laxus hadn't often felt in his life. He found out he liked it. And as he looked down at Freed again, who had continued to eat his peach without so much as batting an eyelid as to where it came, Laxus found himself more contented than he ever thought he could.

"Freed," Laxus began, insides bubbling.

"Yes," Freed said patiently.

"I'm in love with you."

He kissed his boyfriend before he could say anything in response. Delightfully, it tasted like peach.

~~~

Day Two – Gift (From Afar)

"Hey Freed, wait up."

Freed turned around at the shout from behind him, stopping. It was his birthday, and he was retuning home from the customary celebrating in the guildhall. His parties were always a smaller affair than those of the louder members of the guild, something he had requested. Still, it had been a merry affair, but as the night had worn thin, Freed found himself fighting a small amount of melancholy as he sat around his friends.

It came form the fact that, while all his friends were there, his husband was not.

Laxus had taken an S-Class job nearly a month prior, being the only available member of Fairy Tail with the ranking to attempt it. He had known it was going to be a long job and that he would possibly miss Freed's birthday, and the rune mage hadn't minded. Missing out on things was an occupational hazard in their job.

Still, now the day had come, Freed couldn't deny he was missing him. They didn't have any particular traditions when it came to breakfast, other than being awoken with a fresh mug of coffee, so it wasn't as if he was missing anything in particular. It would have just been nice to have Laxus with him.

"Damn, you're a pretty fast walker," Natsu panted as he approached Freed.

The rune mage looked at the younger man with a small quirk in his eyebrow. They weren't the closest of friends, but they got along well enough given their contrasting personalities. He waited patiently for the other man to catch his breath – maybe he was a faster walker than he realised – and absently wondered what Natsu could have wanted. He'd congratulated him, given him a gift, and demanded a fight throughout the evening. There wasn't much else Natsu normally did on a birthday.

"I have this for ya," He eventually said, raising a hand.

In his hand was a package wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string. It was a simple looking thing, and Freed took it with a small amount of hesitance. Natsu's gift to him had been two bottles of alcohol; one a refined scotch, the other a cheap brand of tequila that boasted being the closest thing to breathing fire a man could experience. Lucy had later confessed that she tried to convince him to get the scotch rather than the tequila, and this had been a compromise.

But, given the fact the man had gotten him something already, it seemed unlikely that there was a third part to his gift. He looked down at it, then to the man, with a small expression of his confusion. Natsu grinned.

"It's from Laxus," He explained. "We had a mission close to the town he's helping and met up with him. Told me to give you it."

Freed looked down to the wrapped package with a small smile. It was of course nothing compared to having the actual man here, but it made him feel rather loved anyway. A lot of people assumed that Freed would be the more romantic of the two, but that wasn't exactly true. They both had their moments, both were thoughtful and kind to each other, and this was an example of Laxus' more romantic inclination.

"Sorry I didn't give it to ya in the guildhall," Natsu continued. "Didn't know if he wanted it to be private or not, so I waited. I should get back, so see ya," He started to jog back, waving towards Freed. "And I want that fight!"

Freed smiled a little as the younger man ran off, looking down at the gift in his hands. He continued to walk towards his house, absently moving the package from hand to hand as he did. It wasn't a long walk, so he decided to wait.

When he got home, he walked to his living room and settled in his large armchair. A pile of his presents had formed from when he had teleported them from the guildhall, and he decided he would deal with them in the morning. He ran his fingers down the brown paper of the gift with a soft smile on his face. He used his nail to cut it open revealing a small note above the gift written in Laxus' familiar handwriting.

'Freed. Sorry I'm not gonna be there for your birthday. I know you said you don't mind, but it's still kinda shit. I'll make it up to you when I get back, which shouldn't be too long I don't think. I hope this make you smile. Love, Laxus.'

Freed smiled, moving to place the note on the side table. When he did, he noticed writing on the back of the paper.

'Salamander. I swear to god if you opened this instead of giving it to Freed I'm gonna fry your balls off when I get back. Evergreen and Bickslow know I've got him something, so I'll know if he doesn't get it.'

With a laugh, Freed placed the note on the side and looked at the gift itself. It was a leather-bound book, and when Freed saw the title, he smiled. It was a book containing multiple short stories aimed at children, the same book that he had read as a child. This was a first edition of the book, and it seemed to be in immaculate condition. He smiled softly as he opened the first page and looked down at the illustration.

Freed realised, as he read, that Laxus' job had taken him through a far-off town that boasted a well-stocked vintage book store. He must have brought the book before he arrived at the job and kept it to give to Freed when possible. The idea of it made him smile, as did the knowledge that he had only mentioned the book to Laxus once, and he had remembered.

He smiled as he turned a page; Laxus really was a romantic at heart.

~~~

Day Three – Brave (In Every Way)

Laxus had always known that Freed was brave.

There was never any doubt in his courage. He had stood against powerful mages and fought dangerous beasts hundreds of time and had never shown any signs of backing down. He had pushed himself to his limits to help others, had stood up against injustices and cruelty, and had never cowered when challenged on his ideals. He was one of the bravest men that Laxus had ever met, and that was something Laxus would never change his mind on.

Today, he was proving it. Because fighting mages, stopping monsters and ending injustices were something mages had to do. True bravery could be seen today, as both Laxus and Freed walked into the large foyer of Freed's childhood home.

Laxus would say it was more of a mansion than anything else. But saying that wouldn't be appropriate.

Freed's relationship with his family had always been tense. Not as shattered as many Fairy Tail members, but there was always an underlying animosity between them. Freed hadn't been the perfect, obedient son that they had wanted, and from what Freed had told Laxus, they had resented him for that. He was his own man, had made his own decision, and those decisions had been at odds with what they wanted for him.

Apparently him joining Fairy Tail had been the last straw for them. His father had threatened to cut him off, remove him from their will, and essentially disown him. Freed had left the house the moment he could, and hadn't returned since.

Until now.

After the incident at the S-Class trials, it had been assumed that many members of Fairy Tail had died, and Freed was included. So when they returned after seven years alive, people had been shocked, and it had been a big part of the news. Apparently Freed's parents had seen this and, now that their supposedly dead son was alive again, they reached out to him. According to their letter, the seven years thinking he had died had shown them what it truly meant to have him out of their lives, and they had regretted their behaviour.

Laxus wasn't going to say anything, but he had heard Freed's soft sobs as he read the letter for the first time. Clearly he had been missing his parents more than he thought.

Today was the first time they would see each other, and Freed had admitted to being scared. He had insisted that Laxus come with him, both for support and to show his parents the man he was to be married to. If they wanted to accept who he was, they needed to accept Laxus as their future son-in-law.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Freed's mother whispered.

She had been the one to open the door, and the moment she saw him her face melted into emotions and she pulled him into a hug. Laxus had stood by a little awkwardly, allowing the two to have their moment. Although Freed didn't cry like his mother was, the strength in which she hugged her told Laxus how much It meant to see her again. It was nice to watch.

"I am too," Freed said softly. "You look well."

"So do you," She smiled. "You must still be twenty-one, mustn't you?"

"I am," Freed said with a small laugh, though a small frown followed. "Is father not coming?"

"He's coming," She assured him. "He's not as mobile as he was before, I'm afraid. But still pig-headed enough to refuse my help."

Freed nodded, and his shoulders hunched slightly. Neither his mother nor father were innocent in Freed being driven out of his home, but his father was the worse. He was loud and argumentative with his disproval, if Freed's stories were accurate, and it had been the constant arguments and fights between them that had been the final straw for Freed. It was clear that seeing his father would likely not go as well as seeing his mother.

And yet Freed stood firm, and Laxus was again reminded of just how brave his fiancé was.

As Freed and his mother spoke, Laxus allowed his eyes to stray around the room. There was a large painting above the staircase, seemingly of a pre-teen Freed with his mother and father. The father was a stern looking man, with a strong jaw, authoritative expression and pushed back shoulders. He looked like a high ranking soldier, actually.

He pulled his eyes away from the paining when the doors to the side of the stairs opened, revealing the same man from the painting. He was now hunched over, leaning heavily on a walking stick, covered in wrinkles. He looked old.

"Freed," He said, voice a little croaky yet still firm and controlled. "You came."

"I did. Hello father," Freed replied, voice tighter now.

"Who is this?" He asked, looking to Laxus.

"This is Laxus Dreyar. His grandfather is the guild master of Fairy Tail," Freed explained. "He's also going to be my husband."

It was perhaps the bravest thing he had ever said.

Apparently neither Freed's mother nor father had been told of this, as they both looked to Laxus in shock. Laxus didn't look towards Freed's mother, and instead kept eye contact with his father. If Laxus had judged them both correctly then the father would be the one to have an issue with him, not the mother. He looked at the older man without showing a hint of intimidation, and the man looked right back at him for a few moments.

"You do good by my son, and we won't have a problem," He eventually said, huffing.

"Of course," Laxus nodded.

"Good," The old man nodded, before turning to his wife. "We'll be eating soon, I assume."

As the older couple walked off, Freed's mother saying they would be waiting in the dining room and dinner would be served in twenty minutes, Laxus stood beside his fiancé and looked down to him with a gentle expression. Freed seemed to take a few moments recover; he had apparently expected something worse as well.

"You okay?" Laxus murmured to him.

"I think so," Freed said with a nod, looking up to Laxus with a smile. "Having them know I like men is rather a large weight off my shoulders."

"I bet it is," Laxus said, kissing the top of his head. "You ready to catch up with them?"

"I think so, yes" Freed nodded.

As they walked, Laxus was left with no doubt that Freed was the bravest man he knew.

~~~

Day Four – Tease (At Your Own Risk)

"Well, isn't this cute."

Bickslow had his arms crossed over his chest, the biggest shit-eating grin stretched over his features. Freed's eyes fluttered open as he was awoken, looking towards the man responsible through a hazy gaze. The cocky attitude radiating from the man was clear even without being fully able to see him, and his tone was annoying Freed already. His tired glare didn't dissuade Bickslow from his amused taunting.

He, Bickslow and Laxus had taken a mission together and had ended up sleeping in the woods. It was originally intended to be a Raijinshuu only mission but Evergreen had been called out at the last second, and Laxus had taken her. Bickslow had been more than happy to hear this, and now that the mission had begun Freed understood why.

The idiot had decided he would spend the entire mission teasing the new couple as much as possible.

Many little comments had been made about him third-wheeling them by coming along with them, and about how sorry he was that he had gotten in the way of their romantic time away. When fighting a pack of creatures they had been forced to split up, and Bickslow joked that if they wanted time alone then they could have just asked. And the moment he realised they were sharing a tent he had all but imploded with laughter at his own jokes about what they would be doing inside of it.

It was starting to grate on Freed's nerves, just slightly.

Right now, the subject of his teasing was the fact Laxus was sleeping, head resting on Freed's chest, arms wrapped tightly around him in an almost possessive manner. Freed probably had his nose nuzzled into his boyfriend's hair before he had woken up. Bickslow clearly had enjoyed seeing the two of them cuddled together.

"The two strongest, most badass men in the guild," Bickslow continued. "All snuggled up like idiots in love. It's enough to make your heart melt."

"You know I have a sword, Bickslow," Freed croaked a little as he spoke. "And you also know I enjoy using it."

"Whatever you to do in bed – or in the tent – ain't any business of mine," Bickslow grinned even wider, and Freed's glare got even more intense. It didn't stop Bickslow even slightly. "I always knew Laxus was this cuddly, didn't think you were though. Honestly wish I could take a picture of this, because it's too damn cute."

Freed sighed. He should have expected this when he and Laxus revealed their relationship to their teammates. They were both happy for them, and didn't bat an eyelid when Laxus essentially came out to them, and Freed was grateful of that. For a few days it had been nice, they had been given space and respect. It was now clear that was some sort of amnesty period, because their relationship was now as much a target for teasing as everyone else's. Freed would be better equipped to deal with it if he hadnt just been woken up.

"Did you honestly open our tent just to bother us?" Freed asked, yawning.

"Nah, I was gonna make some breakfast and see if you wanted anything. This is fun though," Bickslow cackled. "So, did you have a nice romantic evening kissing under the stars after I fell asleep."

"Leave him alone, Bix," Laxus groaned, waking up and removing his face from Freed's chest.

"Why?" Bickslow laughed. "This is fun."

"Because eventually he'll get pissed off at ya and try and kill ya. And that means he wont be here and he's really fuckin' warm and I don't wanna lose that until I'm really awake," Laxus explained, pulling Freed closer. Bickslow actually cooed at the action.

"Fine," The blue haired man said finally. "Bacons nearly ready. Be out here if you want any," He then grinned again. "And if you want some privacy, leave a sock on the tent's zipper and I'll get the message."

He cackled as he walked away, and Freed glared at his retreating figure as he turned to his boyfriend. Laxus was smiling a little in his tiredness, clearly amused by the situation; he was always more of a morning person than Freed was. The blonde pulled him closer, pressed a lip to Freed's collar bone, and curled up closer to him. Freed found himself placated slightly by the action and closed his eyes.

"How long do you think it'll take before he stops?" He asked, tiredly.

"None of us have given Ever a break since she got with Elfman," Laxus shrugged. "Just try not to let him get under your skin. You know this is his way of supporting us."

"I know," Freed admitted. He would be much more offended if Bickslow wasn't acting like this.

"And if he really does start pissing you off, we can just keep doing this. It's pretty relaxing if you ask me," Laxus mumbled, nuzzling his nose against Freed's chest. The rune mage smiled a little at that, and ran a hand through his boyfriend's hair.

"I suppose," Freed agreed, before laughing. "Although I do often enjoy getting revenge rather than calming down."

"You can do that too, later," Laxus grinned. "And hey, you're the team's leader right, meaning he technically has to do whatever you say during a mission. So the next time he really annoys you, make him do some weird shit to distract him."

Freed grinned as he looked down at his boyfriend. "I rather like seeing your devious side."

"Couse you do. You're a freak," Laxus taunted, smiling into Freed's torso. "But do it later, because right now I wanna fall asleep again and wait for the idiot to cook us our breakfast."

Freed chuckled at that, leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of Laxus' head. He curled down a little so he was lysing again, wrapped an arm around Laxus' waist, closed his eyes, and plotted his revenge.

~~~

Day Five – Quirks (And Their Meanings)

Freed considered himself an expert on many things.

There were a wide range of subjects that Freed was knowledgeable. There was the obvious, such as his magic and the languages associated with it. There was the necessary, such as how to survive in many situations that the normal person wouldn't find themselves in. And there was the obscure and pointless, such as the process in which leather was made and applied to the bindings of old books. Freed's mind was a home of knowledge both useful and not.

One thing he was particularly knowledgeable about was his husband. Many people assumed Laxus was unreadable and stoic – which was a fair assumption when compared to the loud and expressive people of Fairy Tail – but Freed knew better. You could often tell what Laxus was thinking, you just needed to know what to look for. This was something Freed excelled at.

Laxus showed many little quirks that betrayed his emotions. Some were obvious, like when he grinded his teeth together when annoyed, or how he swayed a little as he was on the cusp of getting drunk. Others were more specific, like how his index finger twitched when he wasn't paying attention and instead was thinking about a song stuck in his head. Freed had realised that particular one when they were getting chastised by Makarov for being destructive during a mission, and Laxus' finger tapped against the arm of a chair in time with a song they both liked.

The point was, Freed could read Laxus well. And right now, he was uncomfortable.

Freed had of course expected this reaction, when three weeks ago Guild master Bob had approached the Raijinshuu and requested they become part of the guild after Fairy Tail's closure. They wanted powerful mages to do some of the more intense missions, and that suited The Raijinshuu well. But, as was Blue Pegasus' gimmick, they needed to occasionally flirt with customers.

Each member of the team had different reactions. Bickslow and Evergreen took to it well enough; Bickslow was sociable and friendly already, and Evergreen found she enjoyed men fawning over her. Freed approached it pragmatically, it was a part of the job and he did it as well as he could. Laxus didn't.

He tried at the start, but he wasn't good with people. Either intentionally or not, he had started to be more standoffish and almost rude to those interested in him. It didn't seem to deter them, instead attracting an even more intense crowd.

Which was why he was so uncomfortable.

Freed had just finished speaking to a man who wished to garner his attention – nice enough, but Freed was happily married – and his gaze fell to the blonde. A group of women sat at his table, clearly not understanding that Laxus' uncomfortable and short-tempered attitude wasn't an act. But being an expert in reading his husband, Freed knew what to look for.

His shoulders were hunched, an attempt to make himself smaller. A trial for someone of his size.

His pupils were dilated, the girls surrounding him were annoying him them.

His sentences were short and filled with contractions. He was trying to force an end to the conversation.

There were other things, but Freed had seen enough. His time entertaining had ended anyway, and it was clear that Laxus needed a break. He stood up from where he had been entertaining men and walked towards the table Laxus was hunching over.

"Excuse me," He said, interrupting the almost single-sided conversation. "I'm incredibly sorry to interrupt, but Mr Dreyar is needed outside for a short while," Some of the women went to protest. "I understand, but I've spoken to Hibiki and he's rather excited about stealing you away from Laxus, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to keep him waiting."

The clear lie worked. Freed almost shook his head at how gullible they were.

Once the gathered women spread and went towards Hibiki – who barely managed to hide his shock and looked to Freed with a glare a moment later – Freed nodded for Laxus to follow him. It was part of their job to always seem willing to attend to the guests unless absolutely needed, and therefore Freed had to keep up the lie that Laxus was required in the back. He led him to the alley outside, both for privacy as well as the fact Laxus was occasionally called there to help move beer barrels when the guild was understaffed.

"You looked like you needed a break," Freed commented, leaning on a wall. "You okay?"

Freed watched as Laxus deflated slightly. His tense posture lessened, the tightness in his jaw released, and he allowed a trapped breath to leave his mouth. The quietness of the alleyway and the company of his husband clearly had an affect on Laxus, and Freed was glad to see it.

"They just get a bit intense," Laxus sighed. "And they're all fuckin' loud all the time. They screech."

"I've heard," Freed laughed a little. "I can't imagine it's pleasant when it's right in your ear."

"Honestly, I think that fucking laugh is gonna haunt me in my nightmares," Laxus groaned, but he was grinning a little now. "Should have done what you did and asked just to see guys, least they don't shatter your ears every time you say anything."

"No, I suppose they don't," Freed patted his husband's arm softly.

Laxus' deflation wasn't just because he was glad to get out of the main hall, it was also because he was slightly defeated. His identity had always been interlinked with Fairy Tail in one way or another, and Freed couldn't understand exactly what it felt like for him to lose that and have to join another guild. It must be hard, and all Freed could do was try and help him through it in any way he could. Knowing this, Freed reached into his coat's breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper which he handed to Laxus.

"If it's any help, I stole this," Freed said, and Laxus looked down at it. The paper was a job notice, requesting the arrival of mages in a village many miles away. A simple enough problem, but what had attracted Freed was the estimated time it would take to complete.

"Says it'll take three weeks," Laxus voiced, clearly having noticed the same thing.

"Exactly. It won't take us that long; a few days at the most," Freed explained. "But that'll give us two and a half weeks where we can claim we're working, when we're actually taking a break from…" He looked towards the guildhall. "Entertaining. "

Laxus grinned, tipped Freed's chin up slightly and brought their lips together. The kiss they shared was desperate and showed just how much Laxus had needed this break. Freed felt a little guilty that he hadn't noticed this need sooner. Until Fairy Tail opened its doors again, he would have to make an effort to make Laxus as comfortable in Blue Pegasus as possible.

After all, what use was it knowing all of Laxus' quirks if he couldn't use them to make his husband happy.

#ftlgbtpride2020 #fraxus #freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #freed x laxus #fanfic #fairy tail #writing #one shots #event

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centipedall · 3 years

Text

Crown of the White Death, or The Asbestos Prom

Senior year was my year. Student council president? Check. Choice college? Check. Prom queen? Check. Stayed with my boyfriend? No. Found out he was a cheating douche? Check. Not have a date to prom? Check. Prom king be a total loser who leaves early? Check.

Meh. Whatever. I don’t need losers in my life, anyways. Which was part of the reason I organized things the way I did. As student council president, I’m the one in charge of planning parties and organizing them. Well, the way I did it this time was just fan-freaking-tastic. Complex, yeah, but name one good thing that’s simple.

Now, my school is kinda set up in a circle. There are seven class areas that connect to two others, one for each subject. And, coincidentally, for each club I’m president of. And each color of the rainbow. Math, science, social studies, language arts, world languages, technology, and art. Chess, Science Honor Society, Philosophy, Creative Writing, Spanish Honor Society, Cyber Security, and Pottery. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, black. I would have used the massive central courtyard and gymnasium for the final one, made it into a whiteout zone to contrast with the final black area, but there was a horrible asbestos outbreak there a week ago so it was shut down. Oh well. No plan survives first contact with the enemy, right?

So, if you weren’t in one of those clubs, I tried to make sure you didn’t come. Giving discounts to club members, targeted harassment, not telling people that the gym was full of asbestos, all that stuff. You know, to save space. No sense in wasting that on losers. Especially not losers who now have asbestosis. You don’t need all that nastiness here.

So, club members were in their respective areas, there were very few non-club members here, and everything was set up. There wasn’t really a theme, but everyone had kinda taken to wearing their own things. My student council team wore small, masquerade-style masks.

I stalked through the halls of the school, basking in the glory that I had made this happen. My entourage of student council members followed me. We didn’t really talk- for some reason, they didn’t like to talk to me. No one did, actually. But hey, that’s fine. I don’t need anyone.

I started my second round down the halls, starting at the red chess area. The chess club members wore simple, black-and-white formal clothing, contrasting against the various red tones of the math department. A few of them had chess pieces emblazoned on their dresses or suit jackets. They visibly paled as I walked in, making way for me and my group.

Then, I walked into the orange room, with a single massive paper-mache microscope in the center. The club members here wore stylized lab aprons, gloves, and goggles, designed more for fanciness than protection. There was a refreshment table full of smoking drinks in plastic flasks, which were evidently highly enjoyable. The vice-president of the club dropped her drink as I walked in, and it stained the carpet.

“Uh, h-hey, Prez.” She stammered out.

“What’s your problem?” Harsh, sure, but I had things to do. Well, not right now, I guess, but normally I do.

“Richard, uh, he saw, he saw, uh-”

“Christ, just spit it out already!”

“Norman! He’s here! In the next room!”

“Oh what the fuck.” I seethed.

That bastard. I told him that I never wanted to see him again. And now he showed up? Here? Oh, I’m going to tear him a new one. Quite literally.

I walked speedily into the next room. My face was a placid mask, and I walked with grace, but my hands were clenched. I felt skin split along my knuckles.

In the yellow room, there was only the paled philosophy club, goofily dressed up like different figures from history. I know they had fought tooth and nail- literally- over who got to be Aristotle. She averted her eyes- sorry, eye, now- to the ground. Plato glowered at her. That one didn’t need a bald cap anymore.

“Next room. Sorry.”

“Goddamnit.”

Creative writing. They had transcribed their favorite books into tattoos on their skin. Weird stuff. Kids were like a cult almost, which was why they were my least favorite. They still looked away from me as I stalked into the Spanish Honor Society’s room.

Huh. There was no one in here. Just an over-saturated blue. It hurt my eyes. Makes sense why no one was here.

It was similar in the purple room. The cybersecurity kids were in here, though. They scampered around on the floor, completely nude but for the blindfolds they wore. I was about to walk into the final room, but I hesitated. My ex was a big guy. Maybe I should have my entourage join in?

I turned, and they weren’t there. They must have stuck behind in one of the other rooms, too scared of him to go in. No matter. I’ll deal with this myself. Like a real queen should.

The black room was, of course, pitch black. But for a glow that emanated from a figure in the center. My ex. He was, of course, in the most infuriating costume I’ve ever seen.

He was thin, scrawny. Which should have seemed impossible, given how he was two-hundred pounds of muscle last week, but whatever. He wore a long coat and a pair of pants, both pure white. His face was alabaster white, just like my mask. Actually, I think it was a mask. As I walked closer to him, I heard wheezing, like his breath was short. His mouth and chest were scarred with bumps. Every breath he took almost inverted his chest, actually. His skin and eyes were irritated, but not red. Just white.

He coughed, a wet, hacking noise, and something came out. A small, wet piece of flesh flew from his mouth. It hit the ground just in front of me. It was just like his chest. Scarred, bumpy, and pure white.

Oh God. He was flaking. Clouds of little white flakes left his mouth with every exhale. Little bits left other parts of his body with every movement. Mostly his fingers and shoulders. The greatest amount of dust, however, came from the chunk that had left his mouth.

The worst part of all this, the real kicker, was the crown. It covered the top half of his eyes, like a blindfold almost. It was white and gold at the same time. I- I’m not sure how, it just was. It was bigger than my own crown, too. Like he was the prom king. A prom king afflicted with asbestosis.

Oh, that asshole. I pulled my hand black, and slapped him across the face.

But I didn’t. There was nothing there. Just a mask and clothes, crumpled on the floor.

I wheezed. Coughed. Something came out of my throat. Something wet, bumped, and scarred. And then I blacked out.

‘

Senior year was my year. Student council president? Check. Choice college? Check. Prom queen? Check. Just an awesome year.

As student council president, I’m the one in charge of planning parties and organizing them. Well, the way I did it this time was just fan-freaking-tastic. Complex, yeah, but name one good thing that’s simple.

Now, my school is kinda set up in a circle. There are seven class areas that connect to two others, one for each subject. And, coincidentally, for each club I’m president of. And each color of the rainbow. Math, science, social studies, language arts, world languages, technology, and art. Chess, Science Honor Society, Philosophy, Creative Writing, Spanish Honor Society, Cyber Security, and Pottery. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, black. I used the massive central courtyard and gymnasium for the final one, made it into a whiteout zone to contrast with the final black area.

It was all pretty sick. Just the greatest party ever. There was only one problem: I had shown up late. And my prom king and boyfriend had probably taken his throne without me. But that’s okay. My entrance is going to be fantastic.

First stop, red. The chess room. My royal entourage behind me, we quickly strode through the room. It was a pretty fun design. The checkerboard people flickered in and out of existence. Black to white to black again. Good people. Fun to be around. Very, very smart, and very good at games. I was a big fan of the way they dressed up for the occasion. Old-fashioned in a new way, I guess?

Orange, now. The scientific. Loose strands of DNA littered the area. They looked like flasks, this time around. Filled with steaming liquids. They drank from plastic skulls full of juice. Nonalcoholic, of course.

Anyways, next room. yellow. Weird guys. I heard that this year, like always, they had fought over who got to be who. The leader was always Aristotle, but the others got to war over Descartes and Plato. Me, I prefer being the same person all the time, but different strokes for different folks, right?

Into green. The written. The folks in here had yellow skin, like an old book. The actual brains were written on them, though, like inked tattoos. It really must suck, being mental when all your friends are physical. Then you have to buy bodies, and actually get yourself in them. They’d bought cheap, but they made it look nice. Careful not to touch any bodies and smudge someone off, I went into the next room.

Blue, now. Just one member, in here. Spain looked at me with their thousand burning eyes. An army of skulls chanting in the darkness as their fingers danced. The mountains and rivers become nails and blood vessels. Twirling shapes in the darkness. A single piercing shriek echoing through the void.

Classy fellow. I’m glad they showed up. And in their best dress, too.

Okay. Purple. I walked through the blind, deaf, mute things. Cylinders of flesh that faintly throbbed as they sat in their chairs. Blindfolds covered alternating parts of them, like stripes. They rocked a little, swaying from side to side. It wasn’t due to any outside influence. Just their minds. I tried it once. The whole sensory deprivation thing. I got too antsy in there. Too many irons in the fire, you know.

Final room. Black. I was the only one in here. It was pitch-black, of course. Wet too. It thumped, and I could feel it beat around me. Thump. Thump. Thump.

I emerged from the pot, and entered into the white room. The throne room. My court. They were all there. Everyone from before. My kingdom bowed as I entered. And he was there. On the throne, with mine next to him. Two equal chairs, to represent two equal forces. The king and his queen. The light and the dark.

Pieces drifted from him, up into the sky. He breathed and his chest inverted. His crown was large, white. Beautiful. I couldn’t see my own, but I knew it was just as beautiful. I took my place next to him, sitting. And the kingdom was whole again. White and black united to become perfection. One that would reign for the rest of forever.

This is such a kickass prom.

#body horror

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