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mayans-sauce · 3 years

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Golden Girl (1/2)

Found on Google

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: cursing, mention of death(?), mention of smut (barely), alcohol use, angsty, sad and insecure lil boy, kind of cheesy in the end but oh well it’s cute I think.

Request from anon I have a request for Angel! The reader is very successful in her personal life, and could be considered a "golden girl". She and Angel start dating, but when she asks to meet his family and friends, Angel pushes it off because he doesn't want to introduce her to EZ. He's afraid they'll have so much in common that she'll realize she picked the wrong Reyes brother. One day the reader takes matters into her own hands and goes to the scrap yard to meet them, and Angel comes back to find them all talking to her, and EZ is sitting next to her. The reader sees Angel and smiles at him, but he walks back out feeling insecure and over thinking. She goes after him, asks him what's wrong and he confesses his insecurities, she comforts and reassures him, and they live happily ever after! THE END!

A/N: I’m so sorry this request comes so late! I recently got inspired to write this. I was supposed to keep this short but I just kept on writing and adding on and it turned into a longer thing. It’s weird idk but I hope you enjoy<3

Part. 2

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“Angel! Come on, we’ll be late, let's go,” you walked into your shared bedroom to go and get him. You were supposed to be at your father’s party 10 minutes ago. This was the first time you would bring Angel along, and he was nervous as fuck. This wasn’t some regular party like the ones he was used to; it was a business party. A lot of your dad’s investors would be present, discussing business and looking at the new invention his company, Techno Trends, had developed, a green source of energy that was powerful enough to light up a whole city for a year. It was a big deal, and Angel had doubts that he would fit in with all the big shot guys.

He was smoothing over his black suit, his hands trembling as he tried to adjust every piece to look presentable. “Babe,” you wrapped your arms around his torso, giving him some comfort, “please don’t be nervous. It is going to be fine. My dad loves you, and he’s so excited for you to come to one of the parties finally.” He wrapped his hands around yours, his shoulders relaxing at your comforting words and touch, “It’s not your dad I’m worried about.”

He had repeatedly declined your offer to go with you when you asked him. The fear of feeling small and stupid amongst these guys turned him off on the idea of going, but he had agreed in the end. Sooner or later, he would have to go. You turned him around, so he was looking at you.

“I will be with you the entire time. I promise I won’t leave your side. You know I’m not the biggest fan of these parties myself.” Your dad was a very important man, and it was vital for him to have you by his side. You were, in a way, the senior CEO, and your input and decisions were important to him. As much as you were considered the “Golden Girl,” you were still mischievous and full of life, and outside of business, you didn’t bother to mingle with the rich and powerful. You had your own life that you lived, but for business sake, you needed to be presentable and put on your pretty smile.

He let out a deep breath and nodded his head, giving you his smile that made you smile even more prominent. “Let’s go, Reyes.”

You held his hand the entire time as you walked up the steps to the company building. After going through the security check, you searched the crowd for your dad but didn’t find him anywhere. He was the highlight of the party; how could he not be anywhere. That’s when you felt a tap on your shoulder; as you turned around, you were met with him. “Dad,” you hugged him. “Hi, sweetheart.” Angel reached out his hand for him to shake, “Sir.” “Angel, please, I’ve told you before, call me Y/F/N, now bring it in.” Angel smiled, feeling as accepted as the first time he met your father. They hugged each other, and Angel felt more relaxed. Angel felt even more comfortable with your dad around; they did kind of have the same life.

Your dad wasn’t always the CEO of one of the biggest tech companies in the world. He was more like Angel in his younger years, an outlaw, someone who did whatever they wanted and didn’t care about the consequences. He was part of a club, doing the same illegal things Angel and his crew were doing. But after the death of your mother when you were a baby, which was caused by his involvement in the club, he knew he needed to leave. He didn’t want his only daughter to grow up without a father, so he left. Leaving his old life behind and starting a new one. It wasn’t easy, being an ex-outlaw, but your dad was smart, brilliant, and his mind was the one of a genius. So after years of struggle and sacrifice, he had finally found success in the company he founded from the ground up.

Your dad loved Angel, and he never judged him. He knew the life and how much of a struggle it could be. But he thought he was a good man and he was happy you had found him.

The night had gone as expected. You had to have boring conversations with the investors, putting on your enhanced smile and charm to get them to give you their money. Angel tried his best to keep up, smiling and nodding in agreement at all the boring things these rich men said, with their expensive suits and snobby smiles.

He and you were relieved when the food and alcohol came, digging in the small dishes that were served. “This tastes like shit,” he whispered in your ear, carefully chewing the food not to be impolite, but all he wanted was to spit it out. “I know, it always does. Let go grab burgers when the party’s over, deal?” “Deal.”

Toward the end of the night, as people were mingling with everyone, you and Angel found yourself a seat in the corner, away from the big talks, and just relieved in a moment with only the two of you. His arms were around your shoulder as you people watched. “Angel, I’ve wanted to ask you something.” “Hmm?” was all he uttered, not averting his eyes from the crowd. “So now that you’ve seen all of this, more of my personal life, when can I properly meet EZ and the rest of the gang? I feel like you don’t want me to meet them. Is something going on?”

He felt a lump forming in his throat. For a long time, he’s been afraid that you would find out that he didn’t want you to meet EZ. Afraid that EZ fit more for this lifestyle of yours and that you would realize that you picked the wrong brother to be with. This environment was more for EZ. He was smart and could contribute heavily to the company. “I-I,” he cleared his throat, “EZ has just been busy lately, you know, prospecting and shit.”

You just left the topic at that, knowing that he wouldn’t budge. Something was going on. There was a reason that he didn’t want you to meet EZ, and he was insecure to tell you why. So you would take matters into your own hands and go over to the clubhouse to properly introduce yourself tomorrow.

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

Since Angel didn’t want to introduce you to his family, you would do so yourself. When Angel was out and about doing some stuff on his own, you took the liberty to go over to the scrapyard to meet everyone.

Once you arrived, you felt a little nervous. Yes, all the guys knew who you were, but they had never really met you properly; you’ve only just seen them in passing and such, exchanging a few words here and there.

You pulled yourself together and opened the door to the clubhouse. Everyone turned to look who it was. They were expecting Angel to walk in, but instead, they found his girlfriend standing there, not sure what to do. “Y/N!” They all said in unison. That made you let out a deep breath. Good, they were excited that you were here.

They walked over to you, and each of them hugged you, expressing how happy they were that they could finally meet you. They offered you a beer and a seat at one of the tables. The talking didn’t stop from the minute you arrived. They asked you questions about yourself, your job, your family, and some gossip about Angel that they may not know.

As time went on, people started to arrive at the clubhouse for a party they were holding. As most of the guys scattered around the room, some in search of alcohol, girls, or just a game of pool, you found yourself having a conversation with EZ about the upcoming tech from Techno Trends.

The guy was smart and knew what he was talking about. It kind of made you mad at Angel for not introducing you sooner to his brother. EZ had some pretty good ideas that would be of big help to the company.

EZ had just told you a funny joke as Angel entered the room. His eyes locked on you and him having a good time. At first, he was confused; how in the hell did you get here? Was that really you, or did he see things? No, it was you. He couldn’t mistake you for anyone else.

You were laughing hard, placing your hand on EZ’s shoulder for support since the alcohol had made you a little wobbly. Angel could feel himself building up with rage. This was precisely what he didn’t want to happen, and it was now unfolding in front of his eyes. As you had calmed down from the laughing fit, you found his gaze, and you smiled big, waving at him to come over, but your face turned sad when you saw him, anger on his face but still a little trace of wetness in his eyes. He stormed out of the doors, and you were fast on your heels to catch up to him.

“Angel!” He sat down on one of the picnic tables a little further away from the building. “Angel,” you walked over, standing in front of him. He didn’t meet your gaze; his eyes focused on a bottle cap on the ground.

“What is going on, Angel? What was that inside?” You crossed your arms, waiting for an answer. “The shit I didn’t want to happen!” His voice was poisonous as he spoke. “You and EZ. The perfect match, the perfect couple. The golden girl and golden boy together as they were meant to fucking be! King and Queen of the fucking company.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” “You will leave me. You will realize that EZ is better for you and your life instead of the fuck up and worthless piece of shit that is me, and… fuck, you will leave because why would you be with someone like me…”

You let him have his little rant; he needed to let it out one way or another, and taking this to the ring wasn’t an option. As much as it hurts you to hear all these things, you let him vent, and after this, you would love, comfort, and cherish him for the rest of your life together, as he deserves.

“... I’m dumb, worthless..” he continued to say untrue things about himself, and you knew you needed to stop him. You felt tears in your eyes the more he went on saying hurtful things about him. “Angel… ANGEL!” You grabbed his face with both of your hands to get him to look at you and shut him up in the process.

“Stop.. just stop... I love you, only you! How can you not see that?” “I-I just..” “No, Angel! Nothing just.” “Please listen to me when I say these things and know they are coming straight from my heart, baby.”

“I love that when I wake up in the morning, and your beautiful and breathtaking face is the first thing I see in the morning. It starts my day with a kick, and I know that the rest of the day will be good.”

“I love when I come home from work, and I walk into the kitchen, and there you are, almost burning the house down trying to be a gentleman and cook me dinner,” that made you both chuckle, and that alone made your heart jump a thousand times, “and we just end up ordering takeout but I still appreciate you for trying.”

“I love when I’m having a bad day, and you are there to cheer me up. Telling me jokes, being your goofy self, or buying me chocolate that we eat way too much of an almost vomit.”

“The sex. God the sex. Best I’ve ever had, I love it. You really know how to work those hips, babe, and make me weak in my core.” He had his grin on his face, and you knew that he would bring this up multiple times and give it to you good and hard just how you liked it.

“I love when we go to sleep, and you keep me safe and warm from the scary outside world, telling me weird and questionable stories about you and Coco. Just you and me in our own little comfort and safety bubble.”

“EZ means nothing to me besides being a friend and a brother I never had. Yes, he’s bright and smart and could elevate the game at the company if he wanted to, but Angel, I love you, just you.”

“If I were to tell you all that I love about you, we would spend a year on this bench. I love you, Angel Ignacio Reyes, only you, until the day I fucking die.”

At this point, you were both crying happy tears. You had told Angel everything, the truth, and nothing but the truth, and you could feel it in his aura that he understood this.

“Querida I,” you spoke before he had the chance to go further, “Angel, we have all the time in the world to express each other’s feelings more, but for now, please just hug me, you big idiot.”

He stood up and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up to wrap your legs around him. You held each other for a good while, unspoken words expressed between you both as you cling to one another. He was grateful, you could feel it, and he loved you more than anything in the universe.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Angel.”

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lilkermit14 · 3 years

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Lavender & Mint

Fem!reader x Pero Tovar

Synposis: In the conventional village of Cullfield lived an unconventional woman who served as an apothecary for the townsfolk. Stubborn and set in her ways, the woman of three tens remains unmarried and childless and plans to continue as such for the rest of her life, much to the horror and confusion of the village. But this unconventional woman has some surprises in store for her when an unconventional man named Pero Tovar rides into town, an event that will change both her and his plans forever—and may flip Cullfield upside down too.

Notes: Idk why I kept mentioning poop complications this chapter but I’m sorry and enjoy. It’s been a while but the CHAPTER is here. Please reblog!!!!

General Warnings: minor injuries, slow-burn, eventual smut, blood, childbirth

For this chapter: Non-sexual references to poop, mention pregnancy, murder, implicit brief reference to infanticide or child abandonment, pre-marital pregnancy and it’s complications in the 1400s, religious “morals”.

Chapter 5: Garlic

Last chapter // Next chapter

“When was the last time you passed bowels, Mister Ashdown?” you inquire, pressing on the old man’s stomach knowing you have found the root cause of his stomach issues. He blinks for a moment thinking as he lays on your observation table, before telling you, “quite some time I’m afraid.”

“I see,” you move your hands away putting your hands on your hips, “well, it seems that you just have a case of constipation––burdensome but not something hard to fix or that will have you laying on your deathbed.”

“You sure?” he asks, almost confused, moving to rise up from the table by himself only for you to come to his assistance. You clarify yourself, “Yes, you have many signs that point to it. It can be caused by a lack of competitive foods in your diet and is more likely with old age.”

“I’m not that old,” He interjects, but you compete, “Yes, but you're old enough for a blockage sir––you’ll be glad to know you’ll live to be truly old as long the burden is treated.”

He huffs now in a sitting position with legs dangling from the table, “so what do you have so i’ll shit.”

You huff at his language, “standard garlic will help move the process along, and I’m suggesting you make sure to eat more greens and berries to clear your system.”

You always assumed that you were let free to discuss any matters with your patients when they were the only ones in the shop, as no one else resided in your residence besides you. But that arrangement had changed and you were not the only one that resided in your home, “If my cock and bowels stop working just have someone put me out of my misery.”

You turn rigid and scandalized to see the face of Pero Tovar standing in your back entrance of the shop—entered unbeknownst to you through quiet steps and a lack of clear view. Mister Ashdown has no qualms defending himself, “I’m only five tens and if my cock doesn’t work how is my wife pregnant?”

You want to scream having to hear this conversation and did certainly not want to be reminded of the conversations you were subjected to by Farrah Ashdown. When the woman at four tens and five found out she was pregnant she spared no expense in telling you how it happened. You opted to rush him along before you could get his account of what he does with his wife, “okay sir here’s your supply get going now.”

“Enjoy the shit,” you hear Pero say and before mister ashdown can respond he is out your door. You turn to Pero fury and rage evident on your face as you are prepared to let the flames of hell loose on him. All he has is a stupid look on his face as he lets out the word, “what?”

“You bastard,” you begin pointing your finger at him moving towards him with menace in your voice towards a man that stands unbothered, “you do not talk to ANY of my clients in such manner especially in my shop.”

“Why is that hermosa? I would be rude to that man outside of your business, what makes your apothecary different?” He queries again with that name, only increasing your anger and distaste for him at the moment. With clenched teeth, you answer him, “I don’t care what you say to Mister Ashdown in town, but my shop is a place of respect––a place where anyone can come for health problems even if they are embarrassing. I want people to know they won’t be judged here because if they feel like they will be, they will come when it’s too late and I can’t do anything for them.”

Pero raises his brow at you, but lets you continue your rant uninterrupted, “When my mother was still alive, a young woman at ten and six came to us complaining of diarrhea, something she was embarrassed to talk about because it was gross and she did not want suitors to find out. Turns out she had sickness from a miasma––we took one look down the town well and discovered a deer had fallen in and died overnight.”

“That was lucky,” he comments, still invested in your story despite the vile nature of talking about excretion. You continue, “Yes, and we may not have caught it so soon if she didn’t come to us. The sickness is fast acting, in hours many more villagers could have been sick, but it was only her––and she lived.”

“Lived?” you smile at his question feeling pride at the healing powers your mom had and hope you live up to, “Yes, the sickness causes dehydration quickly but if you keep the person well hydrated and area clean to prevent reinfection––they will live. This summer she gave birth to her third child at my aid.”

“So their trust is important to you?” you give him a simple nod, glad he is understanding what you were asking of him. You turn to clean up the materials you had brought out to examine Mister Ashdown, not realizing that Pero was not done with questions, “Like how that woman came to you the other day crying in distress?”

You freeze––you had really thought the interest in Mariam had ended when William had first asked you about her the day after asking if she was okay. You nodded and told him it was just feminine needs and didn’t serve much interest in men, something that usually turned men away from asking questions. Well not Pero Tovar I guess, “Why was she crying?”

“It’s a complicated matt––”

“Things of safety are something I have to worry about you know,” He interjects, and you turn your head looking at him to see something serious cross his face, “I have to keep everyone in this village safe––you in particular hermosa––and I want to know if theres something you need to tell me.”

“Part of gaining trust is not telling personal information,” you counter, pulling together to formulate a lie, “It’s nothing of safety she was upset about something––she’s a friend of sorts to me.”

You can tell he doesn’t buy it––he can probably pull the full story together even though you doubt he’s heard a single thing about Mariam’s husband beating her––but he accepts, slouching and learning against a table in thought, “William and I may go for a short hunt––there's not much action in this town I’m afraid and we could use some fresh game.”

You nod, “If you catch any pigeon, I know how to handle it so it's not gamey.”

He huffs, “We're not very good hunters I’m afraid, so you’ll probably only get that or rabbit.”

–––––––––––––––––––

Pero Tovar had useful traits to him––like getting you pigeons––but he was mostly an annoyance. His mere presence always had you on edge, as you waited for something, something from him. It was usually something he said but if not it was his scent or stench rather of pine and something that was him. It was also his sloppy manner, the way he seemed raised with no table manners as he ate all your meals. He spoiled Mite, petting him and feeding him table scraps much to your despair. He was also too loud, his boots filling up the cottage and shop with noise, something that never usually happened.

You lent some time today to make more bread for the household, settling at your dining table and working the necessary ingredients for dough together. Mite lays in the corner, not doing his job as per usual and watching you with some sort of interest in the mannerisms of bread making, but he was likely just hoping for more food in the future. Kneading dough you begin to imagine the dough is Pero kneading your frustration into it. You press and it is his stupid broad shoulders that take up too much space. You pull, it’s the curls on the nape of his neck that are too unruly and untidy. You slam it down, it’s that stupid smile that appears on his face when you have entertained him. God you hate Pero Tovar.

“You may want to stop before you overwork the dough sweetheart,” You stop and see Mildred Becker staring at you with an amused look on her face. You huff Jesus, what does she want, “Sorry for my state, I didn’t hear you enter.”

“Don’t worry I understand too well––I always work out my anger into the dough,” you chuckle a little thinking about how a woman with too many children works out anger the same way as you––you definitely hate Pero Tovar, “I just stopped by because I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

You perk up, “Is Cateline suffering from baby blues again.”

“No, No thank the lord––we’ve been watching over her better this time,” Mildred rounds off, and you remember despite the grievances she gives you, she is a good mother to her children. She was the first to notice that something was wrong with her daughter after the birth and came to you to talk about it. From there Cateline was able to recover and enjoy motherhood, “Something with your house guest Pero Tovar has come to my attention.”

“What did he do,” You ask, prepared to beat Pero Tovar with your broom, but Mildred settles you, “nothing he did, just something someone is doing around him.”

You raise your brow at her beckoning her to continue, “You know Stanislava Rolfe?”

“Of course,” you affirm, surprised she is asking you such a question when you have treated everyone in Cullfield five times over. Mildred continues, “Yes well, She has begun to work at the Inn as a barmaid––she did well with charming Balthasar I guess.”

You were wondering why a poor farmer's daughter’s career path interested you, but you didn’t interject, “I happened to take a quick ale there with my husband, when I noticed something with her and Pero Tovar. You see she appeared extra flirtatious with him––and although barmaids usually are flirty with men in hopes for extra coin, it was more intentional.”

You frown, how could such a beautiful young girl be interested in such a disgusting brute, “Why is she interested in him?”

“Who knows? Many of the girls around Cullfield were excited to see unfamiliar battle-hardened men I supposed,” She ponders for a moment, “all we do know is that she is likely interested in him.”

“I don’t think he is interested in taking a wife,” You contest, brushing aside that Pero would have feelings for the young girl of two tens. Mildred just gives you a hardened stare, “He doesn’t have to be interested in matrimony to want something from her.”

“Was he showing interest back?” you dig trying to figure out the full extent of what you are formulating must be a whirlwind romance. Mildred hums, “no I suppose not, but sometimes men take persistent interest as a way to have a good time.”

You bite your lip remembering that Pero did not fornicate with prostitutes but barmaids, and feel a ball of ache and pain in your stomach at the thought. Mildred instates, “I came to you about this because I want you to try to stop it.”

“Stop it?”

“Yes, make it clear he is to not have such guests,” Mildred explains, and you can tell by her tone and expression you are in for some sort of story, “You know well enough that things go arigh when an unmarried woman gets pregnant, right.”

“Of course,” you remember the chaos that erupted in families when one of their daughters ended up pregnant, and the hasty weddings that came from it. But Mildred had a different story, “although most of the time it gets swept under the rug with a quick marriage and everyone just chooses to ignore it––horrid things can happen when there's not one.”

Mildred sits down at the nearby table, in clear thought of something dark and you go to sit down at a nearby chair, “When I was about ten and eight, and old enough to understand these things, a girl was taken advantage of by a soldier in our village. She was ten and six, and him far older so he should have had the wisdom not to mess with her. What mattered was after it happened, he left with his troop and was never seen in my home village again. She got pregnant, and tried to hide it at first––her mom was dead and she had no older sisters or aunts to go to, so she was afraid to go to her father. When it became too obvious, hate inspired awful things in the leaders of the village, and by the time she gave birth it accumulated.”

Mildred takes a moment to pause, emotions brewing inside her and you feel yourself frozen in place, “she tried to talk to them, pleading, saying he pressured her––persuaded her, but they all pointed and said witch and condemned her son too. She was burn’t at the stake, and her son––well he was never seen again.”

A pause fills the air as you sit in shock, digesting what Mildred has told you, “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

Mildred huffs, “I’m sorry too, I made sure to get a husband that would get me out of that village and landed a good one on the way––I had seen what that village did to women and children for the sake of moral value and did not intend to stay so my daughters could see too. Adultery is a two person crime that only one party, the feminine one, receives punishment for.”

“So that's why Pero and Stanislava are of such concern to you?” You assume, and Mildred nods, “Although I think Cullfield is of better standing, I don’t desire to find out what they would do if such a case erupted. The girl may be doing this because she intends to capture a man with a better job, but mercenaries rest for a few women and not those of ten and eight.”

“I can understand her intentions I suppose,” you contemplate, believing that she doesn’t hold much true interest in him, but for a better life. Mildred hums, “so is there a chance you can talk to Pero about it?”

“I already established that he is to not bring guests into my home, and I doubt they would find a secluded enough place otherwise,” you reassure, standing up, “I can even remind him today if you would like.”

“That would be good,” Mildred agrees, joining you in standing and allowing you to guide her to the door, “be on the lookout too if you see her come preying––even though he lacks true interest.”

“I will,” you say, and somewhere in your heart you feel prepared to beat Stanislava Rolfe with your broom instead of Pero.

________________

Gardening was no easy task but it was the most necessary task the runner of an apothecary and a household had. Today your tending to crops was more focused on your food supply rather than collecting the necessary ingredients to keep your shop running. You're pleased to see that the last of your harvest grew well, and know that your winter stock will last even with your house guest. You had already pulled out all the carrots, and beets, and had shucked the vines wounding your house of beans and brussel sprouts. You were now left to work at the tough vines of the gourds and squash, planning on leaving the single pumpkin for Pero to handle––who should be on his way home from helping Balthasar with something at his inn.

Standing up with the final gourd in hand––you see something that fills you with immediate displeasure and sickens you to your core. Pero is walking up to your house pursued by Stanislava. You don’t quite know why you feel this angry at him; maybe it’s because you gave him explicit reminders on conduct or maybe––something else. Seeing the near, and well hearing Stanislava, you attempt to think fast to try to get her to leave. Greeting them both in an unnatural kind manner, “Pero, Stanislava, greetings.”

Pero gives you an immediate strange look while his shadow is oblivious and greets you back, “I was just telling Pero this wonderful stor––”

“Oh I must ask how is your rash healing up,” You feel like clapping your hands over your lips the moment the words fly out of your mouth. Stanislava stops in her tracks staring at you blankly, “what?”

“The one I gave you the ointment for––on your groin,” Oh my God what were you doing.

Stanislava turns bright red, “Good thank you––I––I have things to tend to at home, good evening you two.”

Stanislava hurries off, and an amused smile erupts on Pero’s face, “thank you for finally scaring that crow off––she’s been yapping my ear off with nonsense for weeks––I guess you're my scarecrow.”

“Excuse me?” scarecrow, you were going to kill this man. He smiles, a genuine smile, “Yes you scared off my crow––like a scarecrow would. Plus you're covered in leaves right now.”

“Do not call me that”

“Fine mi espantapájaros”

“I swear I’ll smother you in your sleep”

“Is that a true promise for you? Like how you promised not to tell customers private information yet just shouted about the crow’s crotch rash,” at that your body works on it’s own, taking the gourd in your hand and flinging it at Pero’s chest. It was a magnificent shot, and caused the vegetable to break and splatter it’s internal organs onto Pero’s chest and neck. Pero steps back from the impact and looks down on the goop he’s now covered in, “Now, no good espantapájaros does that.”

You press your palm to your face, “Just cut the pumpkin for me and bring it inside, you could use a good bath anyway, your stench is disgusting.”

“I do not smell,” he retorts, and you ignore him, bringing inside your harvest. You really do hate Pero Tovar.

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

Apothecary’s feelings––hate or nah yall?

Garlic is use to treat a lot of ailments in Arab traditional medicine, including heart disease, high blood pressure, arthritis, toothache, infections, and––as seen in this fic––constipation. Listen, I know the constipation part is true because I ate a pesto made with raw garlic and LORD did I shit. Anything else, not quite sure but hey worth a shot if you are desperate.

It is also seen as an immune booster for colds and coughs––in fact if you are congested from a cold putting a clove of garlic in each nostril can clear that shit OUT.

Garlic is also believed to help asthma symptoms. IDK if it actually is true but that’d be iconic because my mom loves garlic and she has asthma.

Garlic is my favorite seasoning. I put it in my soup. I put it in my eggs. I put it in my ramen. I put it in my burgers. I put it in my cooch––

taglist:

@poenariuniverse @harleyamidala @yespolkadotkitty @storiesofthefandomlovers @babybelou @legally-a-bastard @computeringturtle @clydesducktape @sixties-loser @buckysalefty @april-14-blog @prettylittlegoldfish @softpedropascal @maybege

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clarawatson · 3 years

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It Only Takes A Taste (2)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x [Fem]!Reader (GN pronouns, fem coded) Summary: it’s your second time meeting Aaron. He’s still flustered and precious but he (might) manage to give you his number. W/C: 2113 Warnings: none yet! A/N: i haven’t got chapter names yet, just accept they’re all called ‘it only takes a taste’ haha. AO3 tags: @willowrose99 @genevievedarcygranger @maryosprinkle @kleff03 (if you want to get added, lmk!!) Where am I in this series? 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

The next time you meet him, it’s 2am. Rita’s three weeks off her due date. She’s been staying at Joe’s place, with his wife, because the heating’s gone out in her apartment and her super is a foul man. If you were inclined to murder, he’d be first on your list. Right now she’s out the back, trying to wipe chocolate sauce off her uniform. The baby’s been kicking for hours and knocks things around the counter sometimes. At least it isn’t throwing her ribs out this time.

There’s a couple of teens drinking milkshakes in the window, they’ve snuck out after bedtime and they’re giggling to each other about how bad they are. You’ve seen their parents drive by twice (they’re regulars after school) but no one’s come in yet.

The agent drives by, and then does a u-turn and comes back. It was literally a double take, no matter how you look at it. You clearly saw him slow down and try to look in the window as he tried (desperately tried) to stay on the main road. And then he’d turned around and come back.

He’s even prettier dry than he was wet. (Your mind spirals to where that could have gone, which is not something you expected from a 2am shift). He’s loosened his tie and his hair is falling free of the gel. He looks less tired, and yet more tired. A different kind of tired. This one would be fixed by a good night’s sleep.

“Hi,” he says with a little quirk in his lip that could be him fighting off a smile.

“Hi,” you return with a full smile. He sits in front of you and steeples his fingers under his chin.

“I’m Aaron.”

A fortnight you’ve been wondering his name and he just swans in and hands it to you on a silver platter. Bless him and his beautiful brown eyes.

“Y/n,” you introduce. “And what can I get for you tonight, Aaron?”

“Maybe not a coffee.” He doesn’t break eye contact with you. He has such a cheeky smile you almost want to reach over and wipe it off his lips. “A hot chocolate would do. I’ve got to sleep enough to take my kid to school.”

“Have here?” Your hands hover over the in-cups and the out-cups. He taps his finger against his chin.

“In.” He folds his hands and you notice he’s not wearing a wedding ring. Kid, no wedding ring, weird hours. Could be a score, could be a serial killer. Could be both! No. Not both. There will be no fraternising with serial killers. Not if you respect your life.

Would it be weird to ask him where he works? If he works for one of the alphabet soups, will it get you in trouble? Maybe. People don’t like you poking around when sensitive information could be involved. You still ask anyway while the coffee machine has it’s little dummy spit at having to work at two in the morning.

“Quantico,” he says. He probably saw you trying to figure out how to ask. And that’s really all he can say. Maybe. He waggles his eyebrows just a little and you think he’s maybe a little too cheeky for this early in the morning. If Rita was working she’d be swooning all over him.

“That’s very prestigious, but, sir, I don’t think you have the security clearance to be in this diner if you only work at Quantico. We deal with Area 51.”

“Long commute,” he teases.

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s what the uneducated think. I can break a few rules as long as you don’t start asking questions. No asking about where they keep the aliens, okay?”

“Never.” He wraps his hands around the mug as you push it to him, absorbing it’s warmth.

“Did your son like the cookie?” you ask. Is it weird to remember he has a son after one interaction? Or the cookie? But he smiles. It’s okay.

“He’s actually in love with it. He’s not stopped talking about it. I think my sister-in-law might kill me.”

“Joe’s magic in the kitchen. I’ll save a couple of cookies if you know when you’ll be in next?”

Is that too forward? Maybe. He pulls out a little day book and places it before him.

“Is Thursday too soon?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You make a note to tell Joe you’re working on Thursday. “Sounds like a good day to collect a cookie.”

“If someone could cut this monster out of me, that would be GREAT!” Rita yells in the kitchen. Her voice is still far too loud out here. Aaron finally drops his gaze from yours, grinning into his hot chocolate.

“Shit, babes, I’m serious. I’ll got for a pocket knife at this point. I’m hot, and it’s not hot, I have to piss every four minutes, I can’t even sit in a car properly and taking the MET is stupid because I still have to pee!” She stops up short, seeing Aaron, and blinks as if she could erase her last comment. “Hi, sorry, you’re rain boy.”

“I prefer Raymond.”

There’s a beat where you try to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. The cheeky demeanor falls from his face.

“Rain Man! Tom Cruise! Smile." Aaron has no option but to smile at Rita. Too late you realise she's checking the alignment of his teeth to actually equate him to Tom Cruise. "Raymond, for sure. Shit, that’s funny,” Rita laughs, groans, and turns on her heel out the back. She needed to pee again. Aaron smiles just a little.

“Want some pie?” you offer. There’s still a bit left. Joe won’t be in for another hour or so, but there’s some in the oven to take out just before three. Aaron nods.

“Yeah, please.” He puts too much money in the tip jar again. Hands you the exact money for the pie. Had he looked at the menu online? Maybe he had. You take a slice out for him, then a slice for yourself. No harm in that. The whipped cream goes on his like a mountain. You put a bit beside your own pie slice, but Aaron’s grinning.

He looks like he may do something childish. He doesn't, though, as you join him in pie eating. The teenagers start giggling about something they're watching on their phone.

Rita comes back looking more tired than usual. Her whole body looks tired as she gets her purse and rubs her belly.

"Say bye to Rita," she says without much playful effort.

"Bye Rita," you return and kiss her cheek as she lifts it to you.

"And to Baby."

"Bye Baby, be good for Mom."

Rita snorts. Joe gives you a list of things to do while he's taking Rita home. Apparently Lola's coming in to replace Rita, but that's only going to be proven by Lola actually turning up. Aaron raises his hand around his fork and waves. Rita waves back and waddles out the back.

"Is she okay?" you ask Joe, and he nods. He waves goodbye to Aaron, even though he hasn't introduced himself yet. Aaron waves too.

"That's a lot to worry about," Aaron says. You shrug and reach over the counter to Aaron's plate, taking some of his cream. He laughs and puts his arm around it to protect it.

"They're family. Less worrying, more caring."

He nods as if he understands. "Might use that sometime."

"You're welcome to."

He gives you a smile that only uses half his face. Gosh, he's cute. But it’s nothing more than fleeting night time visits, right? Okay, maybe not, he clearly turned his car around because he saw you working. You catch him staring at your left hand, studying it intently. No one wore rings at the diner, just because everything got stuck underneath them and there was nothing worse than having a maple syrup adorned wedding ring.

“There’s no one,” you tell him, which flusters him entirely. He smiles and looks down at his pie, blush creeping over his face. “Weird hours in a place like this? Hardly a brilliant base to build a relationship on.”

“Yeah.” He might want to say more, but he’s smiling at you again. “Weird hours, strange place, know that story.”

“Sucks, hey?”

“Oh yeah.”

The teens from the window go home when they’ve finished their milkshake. You tell them to get home safe and pray their parents don’t come in asking where they went. Aaron scraps his plate, scooping up the cream and pie soupy mess.

“I have to go,” Aaron sighs. He runs his hand through his hair and his fingers get stuck in the left-over-gelly-mess. You smother a giggle as he rolls his eyes and pulls his hand out with tiny little crack-crack-crack’s. It sounds painful.

“I’m going to shower and get this shit out of my hair.”

“It’ll look nice without it in.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

He blushes, returning to the man you’d met coming out of the rain.

“Well I’ll remember that for next time.”

Your heart jumps. Next time! There’ll be a next! Time!

“Listen, hey, um,” Aaron says as he stuffs a couple of bills into the tip jar. “Here--” he stops again, then shakes his head like he’s giving himself a vote of confidence. “This is…” he stops again and licks his lips, then pulls out a business card from his suit pocket. He scratches his number onto the blank back, and then Aaron at the top. “My number,” he managed to finish.

“Thanks,” you respond before wanting to smack your head onto the counter. Thanks?!?! There are a hundred better things to say. “W-when do you want me?” When do you want me??? “To be here, on Thursday, for the cookies.”

Aaron’s gone red. Your face is hot. This is a disaster. There’s no fixing this disaster. There’s no fixing it at all. But Aaron smiles all the same.

“U-uh. I’ll text you?” he looks so flustered.

“You haven’t got my number,” you giggle, because he hasn’t. You’ve got his. He looks like a tomato as he blushes even more. “How about I text you my number, and you tell me when you’re free, and I’ll make sure there’s three cookies set aside for you that no one else buys.”

“Three?”

“You, your son, your sister-in-law.”

“I could really use you at work,” he laughs and… sits back down. Four seconds ago he was in such a rush to leave, and now he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world. He’s so precious, you wish you could just put him in a jar and protect all that goodness from the evils of the world. Surely he couldn’t have met too many of them just yet? He’s still got a smile that could brighten up the night sky, people who’ve seen all the hurt and pain in the world can’t smile like that.

“I don’t think I’m clever enough to get into Quantico. Unless they like people serving them coffees,” you smile gently and he tilts his head while looking at you. A curious puppy. You want to lean over and squish his cheeks for thinking you could be anything more than a server at a roadside diner.

“You’d brighten the place up.”

“You brighten my place up.” Corny, highschool grade flirting. He smiles all the same. Can he smile any more than that? Probably not, he might combust and become a star. “You know you don’t have to keep putting money into the tip jar, right? Not the amount you do. Most people just put in their change.”

He looks at the tip jar. “It’s for Rita’s hospital bills, right? It’s why she won’t look at it, because she’s embarrassed, but also why you and Joe count every bill that goes in it.”

“Alright, Sherlock Holmes.”

“It says on the jar,” he jokes, and points to the permanent marker that’s bled through the otherside of the tip jar. You laugh. Aaron laughs.

“I do have to go.”

“Go,” you laugh. “I’ll text you when I’m off my shift.”

He nods, looking a little sad to go, but also a little excited. He must really love his son.

“I’ll see you on Thursday, Y/n.”

“I’ll see you on Thursday, Aaron,” you return and watch him leave. Shit, he’s even cuter leaving. He even waves from his car before he drives off. You’re close to squealing when the bikie gang pull up, flooding the carpark, then all come in ready for their coffee. At least Aaron’s hot chocolate warmed up the machine for them.

#It Only Takes a Taste #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #diner!au

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lady-literature · 4 years

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no point wishing on stars

aka the jasonette aladdin au literally no one asked for

This is a great big amalgamation of semi-canon miraculous, batman and a heavy dose of bastardized Aladdin but here we go-

The story goes like this:

Jason is our beloved street rat turned prince Boy Wonder and billionaire’s son (not that he’s gotten that far yet).

Marinette is Ladybug, is the Guardian, is our modern-day Jasmine. She’s next in line after Fu to lead the Order, which, I suppose, is like High Royalty for superheroes/magic users.

But before she can take her rightful place, she needs a partner by her side. It’s so stupid rule that says she, as a Ladybug, needs a Black Cat by her side in order to be properly balanced.

The only problem is, she doesn’t want one. Or, well. More accurately, it’s that she doesn’t like the ones offered to her, and she doesn’t quite like the idea of being tied to someone she barely knows, especially not at fourteen.

There have been many Black Cat candidates to cross her path but there has been only one she did not immediately veto. Adrien Agreste may be a Black Cat, but he cannot be hers. He will never be anything more than her dearest brother, and that is not what Creation needs.

Creation and Destruction—life and death—have a certain type of relationship. They are lovers, mated and married in every meaning of the word.

And, for as much as she loves and adores Adrien as her brother in her soul, they will never be like that. She will never want him the way she must should he take up Destruction.

So yeah. Marinette has a problem. And yeah, she has some time to figure it out, but the Order is looking to have her figure it out sooner rather than later. Adrien is a good place holder for now, but if Marinette doesn’t choose a Black Cat by the time she’s twenty-one, Adrien will either have to do, or she forfeits her crown and the Ladybug miraculous (which she would never do, she loves her people and Tikki too much to ever do that).

(wait? Does this mean I made Adrien the human equivalent of Raja?… yes. Yes it does.)

And, to spice this up just a bit more, let’s say Hawkmoth is Jafar, yeah? This little shit is really trying to push his son to be the next Black Cat because he wants power what’s best for his son. So he be out here sabotaging potential Black Cats because he’s an asshole his son is the best candidate at the moment. He could give less than two shits about if Mari and Adrien actually like each other that way, he will shove his son at her until she has no choice but to choose him.

Anyway, so Mari leaves the temple one day. Which is fine, she’s not trapped there or anything, she can come and go as she pleases! (she may have to normally take someone with her and is currently ignoring that rule perhaps, but that’s besides the point!)

So she’s at a market in Gotham, strolling down the street, having a good time enjoying being around normal people, when she notices a boy getting into some trouble.

(I’ll give you three guesses as to who it is and the first two don’t count.)

Jason was stealing from market vendors because the hubbub of the street is distracting and nicking a few scraps here and there is practically child’s play. Only, he miscalculates.

One vendor was paying more attention than he thought.

Mari’s across the street and sees the whole thing. Sees the vendor grab Jason’s hand in a bruising grip and snarl in his face.

She’s in between the pair before she even realizes it, mouth already opening around some made-up story about ill-advised dares and how ‘it won’t happen again, sir’ and ‘here, I’ll pay for that right now, no harm done!’

Jason stares at her utterly baffled and, thankfully, silent until after she’d already grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

Only, she pulls him away down the wrong alley. (Look. Mari’s a real sweet-talker and knows how to smooth ruffled feathers, but she is hardly street smart.)

Jason swears, and it’s the first words she’s heard him speak, and then it’s him tugging her along. Up a fire escape and over the rooftops because Jason likes to think he’s tough, but there’s no way he’s picking a fight with five guys bigger than him and wearing masks.

He likes to keep his heart beating more than he wants to keep his pride unharmed thank you very much.

They end up on a rooftop, panting and like, seven blocks away. Marinette is now very lost and with a strange boy who she doesn’t know. He seems… nice, and she’s a good judge of character, but that doesn’t mean much when they’re still very much strangers.

But then the two just look at each other and suddenly they’re both laughing.

And that, my friends, is the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

During those first few months, she and Jason just seem to click.

Mari starts leaving the temple more and more to meet up with Jason, and on more than one occasion dragging behind her a picnic basket bigger than her. (it’s stupid to let one of her friends starve just because he’s too prideful to take her food. So she plans lots of picnics for them both, and pointedly ignores the way he eats and hoards most of the food she brings.)

He is her friend—though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like him a bit more than what one would consider friendly.

And Jason, who is funny and kind and made sharp by the life he’s been forced into, likes her right back. She is one of the few great parts of his life, a bright spot in the darkness he has called his world for so long, and there are few things he wouldn’t do for her.

It’s… scary—just a bit—how important she is to him.

He tries not to think about it too much.

And it doesn't really matter anyway, because she is good and bright and amazing and he is… there’s nothing he can give her in return. Nothing good, anyway.

She deserves someone better. Someone who could buy her things as pretty as her and take her nice places.

Someone who isn’t a street rat.

And then he learns she’s Ladybug, right up there with Wonder Woman and Robin and all the other amazing people set on saving the world, and he feels he got that much farther from her. How can he ever compare?

Jason doesn’t wish, because wishing is childish and he learned too young that shooting stars don’t exist and he’s come to terms with the fact that this is his life years ago, all right? He doesn't need the burden of hope to weigh him down now.

(but perhaps, deep down, tucked away in the corner of his heart, there might be a thought. Small and scared and aching, he might think, ‘if only I could be there with her, if only i could fly with her, maybe then I’d be enough’)

Six months after he meets Marinette, Jason comes across the Batmobile.

His first thought is, this can’t be real.

His second is, I could buy Mari a real birthday gift with this.

His third thought is less of a thought because he’s already got two tires off by that point and then suddenly Batman is there and Jason is swinging his tire iron.

This then leads—somehow—to him winding up at Wayne Manor with Bruce Wayne and then he learns about Batman and Robin and he gets to be Robin and-

(and what else is a Robin meant to do but fly?)

It’s too good to be true. Wishes don’t come true and good things don’t happen to him unless their name be Marinette but… but Jason’s here and it’s not a dream. He’s no prince but, well… he thinks this might just be as close as you can get.

And, okay. He really does try with the whole secrecy thing, because he can understand why that’s important but, I mean… it’s Marinette, who is Ladybug. There really was never any chance of Jason keeping that particular secret, Batman or no Batman.

And about,,, two years pass like this ig. Mari is almost seventeen now, and Jason turned seventeen recently and the pair are getting closer and closer every day. They’re toeing the line of ‘more than friends’ but neither have really taken that next step.

The pressure is on Mari from the Order because she’s getting older and as much as she likes Jason, knows him but he isn’t a good candidate for Destruction and Mari must think of her people first.

Jason doesn’t get to be hers to keep and that aches but what else is she meant to do? She cannot—does not—want to change him in any way. So they stay, in their strange little limbo, with neither making a move.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Hawkmoth hears of the boy finally, and is, obviously, furious.

He doesn't care if this boy can be a Cat or not, he’s going to ruin all his plans. So, there’s only one solution. He needs to get rid of him.

(i’ll give you three guesses as to how and the first two don’t count!)

Robin—Jason—dies, and Marinette feels when he does. She doesn’t know why or what happened, but the moment he leaves the world her blood turns cold and she feels sick.

Jason hasn’t even looked at the ring and already Marinette could feel the thread that had begun to tie them together. When she hears of his death—when she learns that he’s gone—Marinette shatters.

She shatters and cries and the world tips just a little, with the force of her sorrow, with the agony of her screams.

(justice is blind, yes, but is she deaf? Can she deny the sobbing of such a being as Creation herself? Can she stand, unfeeling, before the agony she has wrought?)

Marinette does not bring Jason back to life… but she has done something close. Has opened the possibility. Is, perhaps, the reason that six months later he screams and claws and drags himself from his own grave.

He is wrong wrong wrong, but he is also alive.

The league finds him, as they must. And Talia throws him into the pits, as she must. And Jason is reborn, screaming and angry and violent, as he must.

Marinette had known, Before, that Jason would not be a good match for the ring. He was tough and wild and willing to get his hands dirty if that’s what it took, but that was not what his core was. He was familiar with the rust and decay of back alley streets, but that wasn’t where he belonged. He would throw a punch but he didn’t relish the blood on his knuckles after a fight.

Jason was surrounded by destruction, but that’s not what he was.

Now… now the destruction he spent so long dancing with has slipped through the cracks in his mind left behind by the explosion. It ripped through his skin and slithered through into his veins until it settled in his heart like an overly smug cat.

Death and Destruction are inside him, woven in his ribcage and fusing with his blood, pumping pumping pumping its deadly rhythm and Jason is helpless to deny it’s tune.

Jason is a being of Destruction through circumstance rather than design, but make no mistake, that does not make him less.

(in fact, it may even make him more. To be remade from one’s own destruction is a powerful thing, and to be remade into Destruction? Well. There are few things more… miraculous.)

And we all know the next part of the story right?

Marinette mourns and grows and lives.

Jason rages and learns and plans. He’s come far from that street rat of a boy, and farther still from Marinette's petite oiseau.

But, two years after he comes back, when he ventures back to Gotham for revenge, Marinette takes one look at this angry, violent man calling himself Red Hood and she knows. He’s too familiar, even as he stands before her, more changed than she ever thought possible.

She meets the Red Hood when he comes for the new Robin, sweet little Tim who Marinette had grown to like despite herself. (He is not Jason, and never will be, but the boy was too shy and clever and earnest for her to have remained cold to him just because he wore the same colors once worn by the man she loved.)

She loves Tim in the same way she loves Adrien, simply and wholly and uncomplicated.

And then she is there when Jason comes for him.

Their reunion is not the stuff of fairy tales. It is not the beginning of happily ever after or true love.

Their reunion is a punch in the gut because it doesn't matter that he’s alive—except it does, because Mari has never known she could be so happy and so shattered at the same time—she is farther from him than she’d ever imagined she could be.

She reaches out for him, voice cracking around his name—because who else could this familiar stranger be?—and something in her shatters all over again when he flinches back from her touch.

“No,” he says, and it is a million things at once. He sends one last glare to Tim, who is still behind her, and then he’s gone.

***

Jason tries to avoid her.

Marinette allows this for a whole month before the whispers in the streets and the stories Tim comes back to her with, become too much.

She knows he is angry and out for revenge and building an empire out of the criminals that infest their city, but she doesn’t care. He was gone for two whole years and Marinette is tired of not seeing him-hearing him-touching him.

She has missed him like an ache in her chest and she doesn't care if he hates her or is furious with her, she just wants to see him. She needs to reassure herself that he’s alive, that he’s real.

And, it seems, the universe is on her side in this. In her chest, nestled there in the space next to her heart, there is what she can only describe as a compass, pointing to wherever Jason is like he’s her own personal north star.

The first few times, she’s yelled at or ran off. Or he runs off. Either way, for a while, the only moments she’s close to him are short and aching.

But she doesn’t let him run for long, and she doesn’t let him scare her off as she knows he’s trying to do.

Marinette had always been the more stubborn of the two.

Eventually, like a feral cat learning safety (like a hurt, scared animal relearning love), Jason lets her get close. He lets her in, lets her get close again.

The first time she sees him, without helmet or mask, she flings herself at him. Arms around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clutching him like her life depends on it. He takes her weight automatically, hand beneath her thighs while the other wraps around her back just as tightly. (he longs for touch, she has relearned, but he is also so frightened of it. She will have to be brave for them both)

The second time she sees his face bare once more, he is still thrumming with energy from a fight, is still high on the feeling of broken bones and blood on his knuckles. The force in his chest, the clawing and raging thing settled just off-center of the very core of him, pulls him toward her and Marinette meets him halfway, her own bright, ruthless force like a magnet in her chest.

They meet in a clash of hands on skin and lips anywhere they’ll land.

It is the first time they fall into bed together.

It will not be the last.

Now, you may be thinking, ‘Lady! This isn’t very Aladdin at all!’ and to that I tell you: I fucking warned you. What part of bastardized-Aladdin didn’t you get?

Also, shh. This is my favorite part!

So Mari is in her own personal little honeymoon stage, right? She practically could not be happier because Jason is alive and he’s hers and, even if he’s more violent and a crime boss, he’s stopped attacking his family at least. Which is good, because Mari really didn’t like the sad look Tim wore every time he brought up Jason.

And, oh yeah. Through a combination of her own detective work and Tikki, little Mari realizes that Jason is her Black Cat. Is the only person her Black Cat could be, not because of destiny—though that had helped—but because of coincidence and the bond the pair forged themselves.

So Mari is, obviously, on cloud nine at the moment and she tells Adrien and Fu who are ecstatic for her, and announcements are going to be made the second Mari tells Jason and what could possibly go wrong?

Well, a lot of things really but the first thing is that, basically, Mari is asking Jason to marry her. Just a bit. And while they both know, in that nebulous way they always have, that they love each other, neither of them have ever actually said it.

And also, they aren’t really dating right now either. Mari’s been too busy trying to just get near Jason again that she hasn’t much been paying attention to normal relationship things like dates or labels.

So when she brings it up Jason is… well, caught off guard is likely an understatement. Which then makes Mari realize what exactly she’s just done and- shit. She’s ruined everything and Jason is going to run away again and the compass in her chest is just going to be a reminder of what she can’t have and-

Jason, who only moments before was terrified and in danger of bolting—because this is a lot and magic-marrying Mari comes with responsibilities and rules and a thousand strings he doesn't know what to do with—now stops and stares at her, babbling and so obviously panicked and something in him abruptly settles.

She starts pacing and he grabs her hand when she passes by close enough, reeling her into his body. She comes easily even in her frazzled state and the vicious clawing thing in his chest sighs contentedly.

“Why?” he asks, and it is a million things at once. Why him, why now, why, why, why?

There are a million ways she could answer, but the easiest? The most important answer is simply this: “Because I love you.”

His breath shudders in his chest at her words and her hands raise to settle on his cheek and the back of his neck, a protection of one of the most vulnerable parts of him, and he leans into her touch like a man starved.

Gods, Jason has loved her for years.

He loved her Before and he loved her in the pits, when all he had was the hate they kept stuffing in his chest, and he loves her now. She is his sun and he will spin around her for the rest of his life. But when it all comes down to it, one simple fact doesn’t change:

“I don’t deserve your love.”

Her hands press harder into his skin, like she can force him to understand through touch alone. “If everyone only got the love they deserved no one would be truly loved,” she counters.

“You would,” he says, quick and quiet and honest. Her breath hitches and he watches her eyes go wide. The hands he has on her hips tighten at the emotions he finds there.

“Oh,” she whispers, already pulling him down to meet her. “Oh you stupid, beautiful man.”

And then they’re kissing and- and it is not the first time they’ve done this, but there is something very different about this one.

They’re kissing, and this time, it feels very much like coming home.

***

And, perhaps, that is not the end.

Because there is still one wish left.

Because Jafar-Hawkmoth is still there, and he’s still murderous, and there a very real chance he’s going to ruin the wedding somehow.

Because there is never truly an end to a story, it just simply stops being told.

But none of that really matters. Our princess and her dearest street rat are together at last, and together they’ll get through whatever happens after the story stops being told.

They’ve always had a thing for impossible odds after all.

#maribat #jasonette #my typewriter #aladdin au

236 notes · View notes

eatyourchancletas · 3 years

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SUMMARY | y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

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AUTHOR’S NOTE | written by alex and edited by monnie! we are so sorry for not updating since the new year! we decided to upload this mini chapter to provide some background information for the following chapters to come! if you enjoyed this, please reblog, like, and leave some feedback! it’s much appreciated!! please excuse any mistakes!

WORD COUNT | 1.4k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

heeseung held his breath as soon as he caught a glimpse of the door that belonged to y/n’s apartment. it’d been a while since he had been remotely anywhere near it, just the thoughts and flashes of memories being enough to make his knees buckle in anxiety. he felt scared—of what, he didn’t know. maybe he was scared of just being back there or maybe he was scared that y/n really did leave.

he inhaled a deep breath before walking along the carpet that led to the door. beside the door was his mailbox, fastened to the wall. what rose heeseung’s suspicion though, was that the mailbox was overflowing—bills, disclosures, notices, and envelopes of different matters splayed out. the oldest (visible) one dated back as far as two weeks.

after multiple failed attempts of entering the passcode to the door, he bent down to search for the spare key, remembering where y/n placed it. he always thought y/n chose the most foolish spot to leave a means of entry into his home—under the doormat—but now he couldn’t help but feel relieved when the little scrap of metal touched his hand. he went to unlock the door when a voice called out to him.

“hey, what are you doing?”

the nurse jumped in shock, dropping the key as his hand flew to his heart, feeling the thrashing of his heartbeat. he looked over, seeing an elderly woman standing a few doors down. “do you know y/n? i’m looking for him, have you seen him?”

“you haven’t seen him either—the last time i saw that young man was two weeks ago!”

heeseung ran past the other pedestrians, not caring about the curses he’d received from bumping so harshly into them. his mind was in a state of frenzy—not even y/n’s neighbors had seen him. where is he?

he suddenly stopped, bending over to catch his breath, hands on his knees and lungs screaming for air. “maybe- maybe he just went on vacation!” he mumbled to himself, but he let out a frustrated cry, “no! y/n wouldn’t just leave like that. come on heeseung, you knew him more than you knew yourself at one point! he wouldn’t just leave,” he made his final decision, standing straight to walk into the police station in front of him.

“i’d like to file a missing person’s report.”

the officer at the desk looked at heeseung before clicking onto a new program on her computer, “what is their name and when was the last time you saw them?”

“y/n l/n and i saw him about two weeks ago.”

“excuse me, but why are you just now filing a report then, sir?” another officer walked up, overhearing the conversation.

heeseung looked shocked, not knowing what to say. maybe he had put too much faith in believing y/n was okay. maybe he should’ve come sooner, but now wasn’t the time to patronize himself.

“he’s a surgeon. we all figured he took a break or something—”

“sure, one second. let me go check if we have him in the system.” heeseung stared in irritation. did the officer not hear him? y/n is a surgeon, why would he be recorded in the system?

he waved down the officer, shaking his head. “nevermind officer, i’ll just go to the next division station and report it.”

he let out a rough sigh as he gripped his hair, kicking his feet as he walked out the station. “please, y/n, please be safe—”

his phone suddenly rang and he fumbled with it in his pocket before pulling it out and looking at the caller id. it was a number he didn’t recognize, so he went to ignore it when a nagging feeling compelled him to answer.

“hello?”

there was some breathing on the other end of the line before a voice spoke up, “hello? hi, yes, is this lim heeseung?”

heeseung didn’t recognize the voice, but if he knew his name, he must’ve been calling for a reason. “yes this is… may i ask who i am speaking to?”

“oh, hello, yes i am changsik. i’m a friend of y/n’s—”

an audible gasp left heeseung’s mouth, his feet carrying him to a less crowded place. “really? do you know where he is—is he okay?”

“oh, he’s fine! i’m actually calling you because he asked me to. he wanted me to let you know he was okay. i’m letting him stay at my house for a bit—he wanted to take a break, he’s turned his phone off. that’s why no one can reach him,” heeseung listened on, each word causing his mind to be put more at ease, “he actually asked me to call you a while ago, but i’ve been so busy with work, so i’m very sorry!”

heeseung frantically spoke a mantra of “no,” telling the man that he was fine and thanking him for telling him about y/n.

“here, how about this. i’ll send you my address and you can come and surprise him with a visit this weekend!”

“of course! thank you so much, i’ll keep in touch!”

“mister hongjoong… sir,” y/n fumbled over his words as he confronted the man. hongjoong looked at him with a raised brow, waving a hand slowly, urging him to continue speaking. “uh, i’m running low on supplies… so i was wondering if someone could come with me to get more from the store…”

the leader stares blankly at him for a moment, causing the doctor to almost become weak in the knees, before he taps his in-ear, “jongho, come here please.”

a few seconds later, jongho enters hongjoong’s office, bowing his head before waiting for hongjoong to speak.

“y/n says he is running out of supplies, so i want you to go with him to the pharmacy down the street, okay?” jongho only nodded his head, bowing before asking y/n to follow him.

as they made their way down the corridor, jongho tapped his in-ear, “i’m going with y/n hyung to get some more medical supplies. san hyung can you bring me my wallet and gun. we’re headed toward the front door.” there’s a hurried yes on the other end, heard in both jongho and y/n’s ears.

when they reached the front door, san was already standing there, a batman wallet and gun in hand. y/n eyed the wallet, “wow, jongho. who would’ve thought you were into batman—”

san choked on a laugh as jongho just huffed, opening the front door. “oh, one second jongho, please. let me just go get the list of supplies i need!”

jongho nodded his head, shutting the door behind him. y/n went to go get the list from the infirmary when san’s hand landed on his forearm. “i already grabbed it… hyung,” the younger was staring up at him with a worried look, “be careful.”

y/n went to thank him when he noticed a subtle blush painting his cheeks. “are you okay san? you’re not coming down with a fever, are you?” he placed a hand against his forehead and then his cheeks.

“your wounds are probably infected! i told you no sharp movem—” his words were cut off as a pair of lips touched his almost as fast as he could blink. his eyes widened in shock, body freezing as he stared down at the younger whose face transitioned into a burning red.

y/n bought a hand to his mouth, delicately prodding at the area that was tingling. he remained like that for a few more moments, san’s demeanor slowly becoming more ashamed and embarrassed. san went to apologize and run away when y/n bought a hand to his hair and ruffled it. “we’ll be back before you know it.”

y/n didn’t know how to feel as he followed jongho down the sidewalk. what san did was so sudden—sure they’d grown remarkably closer over the past couple of weeks, but he just couldn’t help but be shocked. maybe it was because the boy was in his younger twenties and y/n was almost thirty. maybe there was some sort of generation gap when it came to the developmental speed of friendships and relationships.

all he knows was he couldn’t shake it from his mind as he walked into the pharmacy, jongho waiting outside to avoid the cameras.

but what the both of them didn’t and couldn’t have known was that there was someone else in the pharmacy—someone willing to start a war.

#t.k chapter #tinted kisses #kpop x male reader #x male reader #san x male reader #choi san #san ateez #ateez fic #ateez series #series #top male reader #ateez #kpop imagines #kpop series #kpop x reader #kpop fics #ateez fics #ateez x male reader

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shera-dnd · 3 years

Link

New chapter arriving a little early today. This time featuring Weiss’s lesbian awakening at the hands of a certain Knight of the Fall Maiden

As usual you can read here or over on AO3, just follow your gay little heart (like Weiss is hopefully gonna do soon)

It had taken Weiss a couple of days to get used to not wearing her helmet, and a few more still for her to ditch the armor altogether. She hadn’t engaged in combat since those first couple of days, and even if she did, she was more than confident that she could best her opponents with sword alone.

Now, with the protection of Lady Ilia’s shawl she was given a level of freedom she did not expect. She was able to roam the festival grounds without a care in the world, no longer weighted either by iron or name. Tied down no longer by responsibilities to her father nor to House Schnee as a whole.

Of course Lady Ilia accompanied her wherever she went, though now Weiss saw her less as a shackle and more as a companion, with whom she spent time happily. She hoped that by putting aside her iron she had made herself more approachable to Lady Ilia. She had the fae to thank for all this after all.

“Must we really accompany those two once more?” Lady Ilia demanded as they followed a little ways behind Lady Yang and Lady Blake, who were both very openly and blatantly flirting.

“Lady Blake is our friend, Lady Ilia,” Weiss replied, “shouldn’t we be happy to accompany her in such a joyful evening stroll?”

“Oh, I’m plenty happy,” Lady Ilia countered, clear annoyance disproving her own statement, “though I do not understand why I must be exposed to these love birds every day.”

“Because Lady Blake requested that we accompany her,” Weiss informed, a playful grin forming on her face, “besides how else will you reach your daily quota of snark and mockery?”

“I’m sure you’d still give me plenty to work with, Lady Gigas,” Lady Ilia replied in kind, using the false name they had chosen for Weiss’s disguise.

“You know nothing delights me more than being of help to you, Lady Ilia,” Weiss added. The two of them looked at each other with an attempt at annoyed glares which very quickly dissolved into amused smirks.

“If you two are quite done,” Lady Blake called, “we’ve arrived.”

Around them sprawled the tents of the valean envoys and the Knights of the Fall Maiden, above them fluttered the flag of crossed axes over a crown, the symbol of their kingdom. They would finally meet Lady Blake’s companions.

“Come here, men,” the knight called in the valean tongue, “I wish to introduce you to my friends.”

With that many of those present gathered around the four of them to exchange greetings. Plenty of these knights had been bested by Weiss the week before, but none of them seemed to hold a grudge against her, and many had taken the opportunity to request rematches, which she gladly accepted.

It was after she had assumed she had met all of Lady Blake’s companions that she was greeted by the sight of a new arrival. An arrival that caught both her eye, and every scrap of breath from her lungs.

She was a tall woman with a flowing mane of red hair. Her body may not be as large, nor bulky, as Lady Yang’s, but the lean muscle it had looked as if it had been sculpted from marble, and the sweat - from what was clearly an intense training session - gave them a shine that made it near impossible for Weiss to look away.

She was starstruck.

“Lady Nikos,” Lady Blake called, “I hope I haven’t interrupted your sparring practice.”

“Hello again,” she greeted, with a lovely smile on her face, “are these the companions you have spoken so fondly of?”

With that she happily greeted the four of them and then continued to hold an animated conversation with her fellow knight. Weiss’s mind was having a difficult time grasping what was being said, most of it focusing on the lovely sound of Lady Nikos’s accent, and the insufferable smirk on Lady Ilia’s face.

Before she could question her companion on this another knight stumbled after Lady Nikos. A blonde man that Weiss first assumed to be her squire, but whose regalia was that of a full fledged knight.

Her next assumption was that the man had stolen his gear from an actual knight, though Lady Blake would have apprehended him if that was the case.

“Sir Arc, good to see you’ve survived your sparring session,” Lady Blake welcomed, the title as unfitting on him as his armor.

“Jaune’s been getting better and better,” Lady Nikos assured her, though why someone like her would waste her good will on such a buffon was beyond her.

“It’s only because of your teachings, Pyrrha,” he replied, offering the recognition back to the one who actually deserved it, “I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

“Nonsense, you’d still be a knight of great renown,” she assured him, quite wrongly in Weiss’s fair opinion.

To drive her point home she took his hand and gently pressed a kiss against his knuckles. Weiss decided then that she despised Jaune Arc with all her being.

With her mind now being assaulted on three fronts - two annoying and one lovely - Weiss did not contribute much to the conversation, which only aggravated Lady Ilia’s accursed smile.

It was only later, when the two of them had been separated from the group that Weiss finally had a chance to question her on that.

“What amuses you so, Lady Ilia?” Weiss asked, making no attempt to hide her annoyance.

“Nothing much,” she replied, her tone as unbearable as her smile, “only that you’re so clearly smitten by Lady Nikos.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Weiss scoffed.

She was not some foolish little princess swooning over any knight who so much as flexed a bicep in her vicinity. More importantly she did not seek the company of women in that way...at the very least she was pretty sure she didn’t.

“That you wish it was your hand, not Sir Arc’s, that she had kissed,” Lady Ilia replied with certainty.

“That is…not untrue,” Weiss admitted, “but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it now?” She teased, “does the thought of a strong woman in knightly armor, carrying you off into the sunset not set your heart aflutter?"

“It very much does not,” Weiss informed her, unamused.

“Then perhaps you wish to be that knight in shining armor,” she tried again, “brave, powerful, holding a swooning maiden in your arms as she declares her undying love for you.”

That thought certainly brought some color to Weiss’s cheeks. Though it was obviously only because it played to her dream of becoming a knight, and not because of any previously undiscovered attraction to swooning maidens.

Certainly not.

“Oh Lady Schnee,” Lady Ilia continued, hands clutching her chest as she leaned back in a clear mockery of said maidens, “you’re so handsome and strong, please carry me off to your chambers so you may ravish me.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point,” Weiss rolled her eyes, deigning to ignore Lady Ilia’s nonsense in favor of preparing their camp once more.

That was certainly a lot for her to process all at once. Certainly she was surrounded by women who held interest in other women, but that did not speak of her preferences, right? Though if she was so certain she shouldn’t be having all these doubts right now.

Perhaps she enjoyed the company of men and women, much like Lady Yang’s mothers. Though she couldn’t quite remember a time in which a man’s company did to her what the mere sight of Lady Nikos did.

She needed something to get her mind off of this. Something that would both distract her and help her think more clearly. Thankfully she knew just what could save her in her hour of need.

“What are you doing?” Lady Ilia asked, as Weiss began searching through her belongings.

“Searching for my training swords,” she informed her, “the two of us are gonna spar.”

“I see,” Lady Ilia replied, seemingly not much entertained by this idea, “and why is that?”

“You’ve claimed to know how to defend yourself,” she explained. Having found the pair of wooden swords that she had stashed away - just in case Winter could spare some time with her - Weiss tossed one over to Lady Ilia and continued, “I wish to test that.”

Her reasoning wasn’t entirely untrue. She did want to measure her companion’s skill, just to be sure she would be safe were they ever separated, and that explanation dealt a far smaller blow to her pride than, ‘I’d rather swordfight you than sit around and question my sexuality all night.’

“Very well,” Lady Ilia agreed, getting up and giving her sword a few practice swings, “though do not be saddened when I put an end to your winning streak, Schnee.”

“My lady,” Weiss replied, in a tone she knew annoyed her companion deeply, “you know you could never sadden me.”

“You know that won’t stop me from trying, Schnee,” she replied, matching Weiss in her annoyance.

This would bring her such joy.

“On my mark then,” Weiss declared, taking a proper fighting stance, “begin!”

The word had barely left her lips before Lady Ilia’s sword was already swinging for Weiss’s head. She barely had the time to block that blow before another hit came her way, then another, and another still. Lady Ilia pressed the offensive with a terrifying fury, backed by skillful swordsmanship.

Sidestepping her next blow, Weiss finally managed to get her footing again and swing her first blow towards her opponent. Lady Ilia evaded it masterfully and pushed the attack once again, only to be stopped by a follow up blow of Weiss’ sword.

Oh, this was exhilarating. The intensity of her lady’s attacks, the rhythm of their push and pull, truly nothing could get her blood pumping quite like a good fight, and Lady Ilia was giving her exactly that.

“I wanna see you grinning like that once I turn you into worm food, Schnee,” she threatened.

Oh? Had Weiss been grinning this whole time? Perhaps she had been enjoying herself too much. Not that she had any cares right now. There was only space in her mind for the fires of combat, both with blades and words alike.

“Your skills with the blade are matched only by your eloquence, my lady,” Weiss declared, trying to keep a calm tone even as the fight continued.

“And yours is only matched by your fairness,” Lady Ilia countered, matching Weiss blow for blow.

“I’ll be taking that as a compliment,” she replied, taking some ground as well while she was at it.

“Not once I’m done beating your face bloody!”

Weiss laughed.

She couldn’t help herself really, not when she was enjoying herself so much. She hadn’t had such fun in ages, so of course she had been grinning and laughing like a complete fool. It did not help that her sparring partner was making herself a fool in much the same way.

Perhaps it had been such bouts of laughter that had caused Lady Ilia’s stance to slip for a moment. Making the best of the opportunity she had been given, Weiss lunged forth, hitting her partner’s sword with force, knocking her backwards with the blow. Though she did not wish for her companion to suffer any real wounds, and dutifully caught her in one arm before she could touch the ground.

Her breathing was labored, heavy with strain and adrenaline. Lady Ilia did not find herself in a much better position, clinging to Weiss’s arm to keep herself from falling back as the both of them simply held themselves like that. Their bodies pushed oh so closely as they allowed themselves to slowly recover.

“I must admit, Schnee,” Ilia was the first to break the silence, “you’re quite the fighter.”

Weiss did not care to stop the smirk that had returned to her face, “it wouldn’t do for my lady to have a poor knight at her service.”

Calling herself a knight was perhaps a bit much, but she felt she could allow herself such indulgences in this moment. As expected, Lady Ilia clearly disagreed, rolling her eyes at Weiss’s self satisfied comment.

What wasn’t expected was for her body to fracture into a kaleidoscope of butterflies, each of them flying away and dispersing into the air. Weiss froze in stunned shock, unable to move as her mind tried to grasp what had just unfolded.

She felt hard wood gently press against her back, before the real Lady Ilia allowed herself to retort, "and it wouldn't do to let you grow too cocky, Schnee."

The Ilia she had fought was an illusion.

Now that had returned the smile to her face.

Weiss righted herself and turned to face her sparring partner. Ilia’s excitement was written on her face as clear as day. She smiled not only at the fact that she had bested a Schnee, but at the simple joy of a good fight.

It struck her then that perhaps there was some truth to Lady Ilia’s assumptions. Perhaps she had certain preferences when it came to her partners. That was certainly a lot for Weiss’s poor mind to digest while still being pumped full of adrenaline. Maybe it would be for the best if she saved the self questioning for later, and just allowed herself to enjoy this moment of joy.

“Again?” Weiss asked, already knowing what her lady’s answer would be.

“Again!”

#rwby #prismatic ponytails #weiss schnee #ilia amitola #pyrrha nikos #medieval au #fanfic

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toonformers · 3 years

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Here's something cool. Know the Redemption AU I talked about a while back? I started a script of the first episode, Transform and Roll Out. It plays out almost the same as the episode, with some added dialogue. I just wanted to show you it n.n

Episode 1

Transform and rollout

[Flashback scene, Autobot prosecution center]

[Optimus, Sentinel and Ultra Magnus are present]

UM: Optimus Pax, Sentinel Minor, you stand accused of exiting the Autobot Academy during curfew hours, stealing one of the Academy ships and participating in an unsanctioned mission to a forbidden organic planet, with the intention of obtaining rare energon from a decepticon cargo ship. And due to this disregard for the rules our society, you’ve lost one of our best intelligence students, Elita One. How do you plead?

Sentinel: [looks at Optimus’ direction angrily and turns away]

Optimus: It was my fault, sir. I had planned this mission. And when we lost Elita, I panicked and intended to pin the blame on my colleague, Sentinel. But I could never betray him, for he’s been nothing but kind to me. I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you, sir.

UM: Sentinel Minor, anything you’d like to add?

Optimus: [Looks at Sentinel sadly]

Sentinel: Yes…. *sigh* He’s lying, sir.

Optimus: *whisper* Sentinel, what are you doing?!

Sentinel: Optimus didn’t plan this mission. I did. I even have the plans in my dorm to prove it. I wanted to make easy money. But I wanted to share it with my friends. I didn’t think anyone would get hurt. Or worse… And when we lost Elita, I snapped and blamed Optimus. But he shouldn’t take the fall for this. He couldn’t have done better. And I’m sorry I ever put you through this Opi.

Optimus: *smiles worriedly*

Sentinel: *smiles, goes back to serious* So please, sir; punish me, but leave my friend out of this.

UM: I see…you did a very brave thing, Sentinel. Admitting your mistakes isn’t easy, especially knowing it could cost your future. However, Optimus was an accomplice to this mission and therefore will receive the same punishment as yourself. Your time in the Autobot Academy will be terminated and will be sentenced to work in space bridge repair and maintenance. [distant scream, male] What in the world…?

[End of Flashback]

[Optimus and Sentinel’s ship, both watching history videos]

Sentinel: [Looks at Optimus, then back at the screen] That one in the back needs to pick up the pace.

Optimus: I’m sure he’ll be fine.

Sentinel: Woop, there he goes. Hey, he’s still going. Here come the medics.

Optimus: Just in time. [Moment of silence] Think he’s still online?

Sentinel: Hard to say. Those wounds aren’t easy to recover from. But I could be wrong.

Voice in video: …the Autobots battled valiantly in the name of honor. Their courageous exploits bringing hope and glory to a beleaguered war torn planet, and inspiring countless generations of robots yet to come online.

[Ratchet enters]

Ratchet: What a load of scrap metal. Why do you two waste your time with those old history vids?

Optimus: All the great Autobot leaders learn from the past.

Ratchet: Look around, Primes. The Great War ended centuries ago.

Sentinel: True. But you were there. In the moment. You saw what happened. We weren’t there. We didn’t see what happened.

Optimus: Yes, thank you Sentinel. What where the decepticons really like?

Ratchet: Trust me, kid; you’re better off not knowing. Besides, looks like the young bots could use a hand.

Bulkhead, distant: BUMBLEBEE! My wrecking ball’s stuck again!

[Sentinel snickers as Optimus sighs]

Optimus: [looks at Sentinel] Want to help?

Sentinel: I’m offended you even asked. *smirk* [gets up with Optimus and both follow Ratchet]

Ratchet: Just take it easy, kid. You may have that new processor, but you’re still healing from the surgery. Don’t overdo it.

Sentinel: Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.

Optimus: Ratchet, you ever get the feeling you were programmed for something more than repairing space bridges?

Sentinel: You mean like me, every cycle?

Ratchet: I got a diagnostics program that can delete that feeling like a bad line of code.

Sentinel: Ha. No thanks. Replacement surgery was enough.

[Optimus opens the door, all bots transform to vehicle mode and head out to BB and Bulkhead]

[Pan to Bulkhead, dangling from a cord. His wrecking ball wedged in a rock pile]

Bulkhead: I don’t like heights, Bumblebee!

[BB appears running up Bulkhead]

Bumblebee: Cool your circuits, Bulkhead. I’m working as fast as I can, and you know there’s no bot faster. *shoots rocks, no effect*

Bulkhead: [looks at BB unimpressed] [watches BB kick rocks then looks down covering mouth] I think I’m gonna blow a gasket!

Bumblebee: Try to hold it in a little longer. [Rocks tumble, BB and Bulkhead scream and fall on top of each other]

[Optimus, Sentinel and Ratchet arrive and transform to robot mode]

[Sentinel is snickering]

Optimus: Alright, what seems to be the problem?

Bumblebee: I think the technical term is “bunch of big honking rocks jamming space bridge”.

Sentinel: So I see. If that’s all, we’d just need to do a standard clean up and we’ll be good to go.

Optimus: Seems so. Thank you, Sentinel.

Bulkhead: Know what I can’t figure out? Why would anyone want to transport to this All Spark forsaken sector?

Optimus: That’s not the point, Bulkhead. We have a job to do. And no problem is insurmountable with the right tools…and a little teamwork. [Optimus wields his axe and begins smashing rocks] Everyone lend a servo. Bulkhead…[Bulkhead is punching rocks] …and you, Bumblebee. [Bumblebee is shooting rocks] C’mon, Ratchet. [Ratchet uses electromagnets to levitate the rocks] [Optimus suddenly stops and looks at Sentinel. Sentinel smiles] Go on, Sentinel.

[Sentinel wields his plasma knuckles and punches away the rocks at an extremely fast pace. After every fifteen seconds or so, he would stop and a hiss would come from his arms followed by steam. Then he would start again]

Sentinel: I think I’m getting better at it!

Optimus: I see! Very nice! You too, Prowl! *looks around* Hey, where is Prowl? [Shuriken suddenly appears and breaks a rock next to Sentinel, who was startled. The shuriken returns to Prowl]

Prowl: Just have to know the weak spot.

Sentinel: Maybe a warning next time, you malfunction!

Prowl: That would just mess up my time. *Ratchet sighs as Sentinel crosses arms and mutters*

Ratchet: Young bots. Can’t live with ’em. Can’t melt ’em down for spare parts…

Bulkhead: *whisper* Why is he so grumpy all the time?

Bumblebee: *whisper* You’d be grumpy too if you had one servo in the scrapheap. [Ratchet smacks the back of BB’s head as Sentinel cackles]

Ratchet: I may be one servo in the scrapheap…but I can still hear!

Optimus: Okay, I know where stuck out here in the middle of nowhere on a thankless assignment, but remember, we are all cogs in a great big Autobot machine.

Prowl: *facepalm* Not this speech again…

Optimus: A machine that’s stronger as a whole, than any one component part. [The ground begins to shake and rumble] Together, we can move mountains. [Space bridge opens, the sudden opening pushing the Autobots away from it]

Sentinel: How about space bridges??

Optimus: Not funny! *looks around* Protocol Alpha 1-3!

Sentinel: You got it! *runs to Bumblebee, smashing incoming rocks* Go, kid! *Bumblebee runs off. Sentinel catches Prowl in mid air and gets him out of the way.*

Optimus: *Nets incoming rocks heading toward Bulkhead. Shuts off bridge with grappler*

Bulkhead: *mouth opened in shock*

Prowl: Impressive. *shuts Bulkhead’s mouth*

Bulkhead: Where did you learn moves like that?

Optimus: We trained in the Autobot Academy.

Ratchet: So how did Academy bots end up in a broken down maintenance crew?

Bumblebee: Yeah. Shouldn’t you be in the Cybertron Elite Guard or something?

Optimus and Sentinel: …

I'll leave that as a part 1 haha. If you liked it, I'll do more n.n

#transformers animated #transformers #tfa sentinel prime #sentinel prime #tfa au #tfa optimus prime #tfa prowl #tfa bumblebee #tfa bulkhead #tfa ratchet #redemption au

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amazingmsme · 4 years

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Lets See A Smile

AN: My first Hazbin fic! There’s not nearly enough fics for it so here I am! Had a blast writing it, hope y’all enjoy! Angel and Alastor have such a fun dynamic!

Angel sighed in relief as his shift finally came to an end. You'd think a hotel with virtually no patrons would make for an easy work day, but when one of those guests was none other than fucking Sir Pentious of all people, you might as well jump off the highest cliff in hell. He kicked open the door to the break room, eager to vent to his friends.

"You would not BELIEVE the day I had! Next time you need someone to deal with Sir Penis get someone else to do it 'cause there's no way I'm going back up there to pick up eggshells and 20 feet of snake skin," he exclaimed dramatically, eyes closed with an arm thrown over his face like a damsel. Alastor popped his head up from where he was laying on the couch.

"I will be sure to let Charlie know of your complaint," he said. Angel's eyes flew open as he pushed himself away from the wall.

"What, you? Where's Charlie? Or Vaggie?" he asked, not too pleased to see the radio demon when he was expecting his gal pals.

"Don't you remember? Tonight is their anniversary!" Alastor said in a cheery tone. Angel crossed his first pair of arms and rested another hand on his hip.

"Oh yeah, forgot about that," he said dismissively. Alastor sat up fully now, resting his feet on the floor instead of taking up the whole couch. He tilted his head quizzically, taking in the other demon.

"What, you got some fuckin' problem?" Angel asked, noticing his intense stare. Alastor shook his head, looking away.

"Not at all Angel, but from the sounds of it, you do." Angel rolled his eyes.

"Yeah and he's on the third floor," he said with a huff. Alastor scooted over and patted the cushion next to him invitingly.

"Why don't you sit?" Angel's face lit up as he strolled over.

"Hey don't mind if I do," he said before plopping right in Alastor's lap. He blushed and faltered.

"Wha- Not on me!" he exclaimed and shoved him off. Angel Dust chuckled, settling into a proper seat.

"Sorry, you didn't specify," he smirked. Alastor glared at him with a small growl.

"You know damn well that's not what I meant." They fell into a slightly awkward silence. Alastor sat stiffly while Angel sprawled across the sofa, taking up most of the room and not seeming to care. Alastor liked to pride himself in his ability to read other people, and right now it was obvious that Angel was not himself. Oh sure he would try and act like his usual flamboyant and snarky self, but apparently their customer had really gotten under his skin. He didn't like seeing the other demon so upset. He tapped his fingers on his knees, letting out a low whistle that mixed with the smallest whine of microphone feedback.

"Soooo..." he started. Angel only raised a brow. "Would you care to talk about it?"

"Eh, not really. That slithery prick's already eaten up too much of my time," he dismissed. After a brief pause he let out a long suffering sigh, arching his back over the arm of the couch and just let himself hang there. This caused Alastor himself to sigh.

"Well you're obviously upset about it, and normally I'd dump you off on Charlie but she's not here right now, so you're stuck with me. And while I may not be very good at this, I would like to cheer you up. Is there, um, anything I could do to maybe help?" Angel raised himself up, a little skeptical.

"You serious?"

"Yes! After all you're never fully dressed without a smile! And you sir are lacking the appropriate attire," he justified.

"Yeah well, I'm a slut, so what do you expect?" he asked, though he allowed himself to relax a bit. "Can you, no ya know what, never mind," Angel stopped himself mid sentence. And was that a blush creeping up his face? Needless to say Alastor was intrigued.

"No do go on!" he encouraged. Angel waved a hand as if to brush him off.

"Naw you wouldn't like it."

"Nonsense! And if I don't like it, I'll just talk about it behind your back to Husk like a normal person," he admitted. Angel considered this and shrugged.

"Well at least you're honest. So, what I was gonna say was, uh, can I have a hug?" he asked sheepishly. He reached up and rubbed a hand behind his neck, "It's just I'm a little tired and upset, and I'm kinda used to it with Charlie around. Hehe, look at me, goin' soft..." he trailed off. Alastor- didn't really know what to say. So instead he just leaned back into the sofa and held out his arms. Angel broke into a shy grin and cuddled against him. Alastor rested his arms around him, not allowing himself to fully relax into the hug. Not yet at least. Affectionate touch was still kinda new for him. But he had to admit, it did feel nice. It gave him a warm kind of comfort he hadn't felt in forever, and he let himself sink into the feeling.

"Ya know what Al? You actually give pretty good hugs. Heh, better not let Charlie know, am I right?" he joked with a poke to his side. Alastor went completely rigid, his hold on Angel tightened ever so slightly. This didn't go unnoticed.

"Al, you okay there buddy? Didn't hurt ya, did I?" he asked. He doubted he could even hurt him if he tried, but he wanted to make sure.

"W-what? You hurt me? Oh please," he tried to play it off, hoping he would just drop it. But this is Angel Dust we're talking about, he's not one to simply "drop" things. Not to mention, he's had years of experience in his old line of work. He's learned all there is to know about the body and it's various reactions to touch. Which is why it only took him a second to figure out what had happened.

"If you're ticklish you coulda just said so, I woulda left you alone," he said casually. Alastor's jaw dropped in mild horror and shock, pushing the other demon away.

"I am no such thing!" he adamantly denied. Angel raised a brow, a sly smirk creeping onto his face.

"Oh please, big scary tough guy like you? Definitely ticklish," he said, watching Alastor's reactions from the corner of his eye. Despite his best efforts to keep it at bay, a blush rose to his cheeks. As Angel spoke, he let one of his hands wander closer to Alastor's side.

He was just about to snap at him, a sharp retort on the tip on his tongue, when Angel's hand connected with his side. He let out a startled noise, jerking away and snapped his head to look at Angel. The smile he gave the radio demon was completely predatory and feral. Alastor found himself scooting away.

"Now Angel, don't do anything you'll regret," he warned, but his voice wavered with nerves.

"Trust me, I ain't gonna regret this," he said, lunging forth and straddling a very shocked Alastor. He wasn't used to people not taking his threats seriously and was a bit stunned. He tried to grab Angel's hands to block him, but he countered by pinning his wrists with his first set of arms. He chuckled, wiggling his fingers above his stomach. Alastor struggled, trying to free himself.

"What's the matter? Forget I had these?" Angel asked. He emphasized his point by skittering his fingers all along his belly, making him burst into staticky giggles.

"Stohohop this ihihinstant!" Alastor demanded through his laughter. Angel Dust leaned forward, grinning widely. Alastor could see his own hysterical reflection shinning in Angel's eyes, so he looked away, too embarrassed to see the giggly mess he'd become.

"Nah, I don't really feel like it. Besides, I think this is the first time I've heard you laugh! I'm having way too much fun to stop!"

"Thahahat's nohot true! Ihihi laugh ahahall the time," he tried to speak through his manic giggles.

Angel shrugged, "Yeah but laughing at your own lame jokes don't count. Kinda pathetic actually." He added another pair of arms to the mix, reaching behind him to squeeze and scratch at his knees. Alastor drummed his legs on the couch, his laughter increasing in volume and pitch. Radio static mixed more frequently with his laugh, making Angel coo.

Dohohon't patronize mehehe!" Alastor cried.

"I'm not! But you gotta admit Al, your laugh is adorable," he teased, making his voice a higher pitch and using the same tone that he normally talks to Fat Nuggets with. He brought his third pair of arms up to squeeze at his sides, the second pair starting to crawl up his ribs as he sang.

"The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout." Though he thought it to be impossible, Alastor's laughter increased even more. "Down, came the rain and washed the spider out." He raked his knuckles down his ribs, making him arch his back with a cackle. As he finished the nursery rhyme, he let his fingers walk back up his ribs before attacking his exposed underarms.

Alastor squealed before his voice faded into the high pitched screech of a microphone. Angel jerked back in shock at the loud noise, covering his ears as he fell back on the couch. His eyes were squeezed shut as he fell into a giggle fit, clutching his stomach with his many arms. He brought a hand up to wipe away a few tears as Alastor recovered.

His breathing was already beginning to return to normal, but his face was still a burning crimson. Angel patted his leg comfortingly before he rose from the couch, stretching as he spoke.

"Oh man, that was fun. Never knew ya could laugh like that Smiles," he said, settling back onto the cushions. Because he was so tall, Alastor was taking up most of the space, causing Angel to huff and kick his legs with his boot. "Skooch over, you're takin' up the whole damn couch," he grumbled. Alastor finally sat up, seemingly recovered. His cheeks were still sporting a decent flush and he brushed himself off, trying to scrap together his remaining dignity by straightening his crumpled clothes. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"You have ten seconds," he stated calmly. Angel raised a brow.

"Ten seconds to do what?" he asked.

"Why, to run of course," Alastor stated as though it were obvious.

"Hell no, I ain't runnin'! I just got comfy," he said, gesturing to his already lounging position. Alastor shrugged, his residual smile widening into something more sinister.

"Very well, it is your funeral after all." Angel's eyebrows furrowed together, beginning to connect the dots. He opened his mouth to protest, only to be cut off.

"Nine."

Angel's eyes widened and he scrambled to get as far away from the radio demon as possible. In such a rush, his legs got tangled and he stumbled over himself before rushing out the door. Alastor was already down to six. He rushed down the hall and into the lobby, looking for cover. There was no way he could out run him, so his only chance was to hide. He only hesitated for a second before his eyes landed on the bar and he sprinted towards it.

Husk saw him coming and shook his head. "Oh hell no, you already used up all your points," he said casually. He jumped back with a hiss, fur standing on end when Angel made a move to dive over the bar.

"This ain't about that, you gotta hide me!" he pleaded, gripping onto his shirt. Husk shoved him off.

"What the hell did you get into now?" he asked, running a hand down his tired face.

"No time to explain, just go on about your business and act like I ain't here," he said, crouching down underneath the bar. "Oh and if Al asks, say you haven't seen me."

Husker's eyes widened, shaking his head. "Sorry, but I'm not covering for you. This is your mess, you deal with it. I don't wanna get caught in the cross hairs of whatever you did to piss him off," he said, trying to drag Angel Dust out from underneath the countertop. Angel cursed as he struggled to stay put, already forced halfway out. It was then that Alastor himself leisurely strolled into the lobby. His eyes fell on Angel, and he twirled his microphone stand gleefully.

"Oh Angel there you are!" he exclaimed. Angel let out a small scream before leaping back over the bar, much to Husk's annoyance. As he ran out of the room, he used two hands to flip Husk off.

"Wow thanks for bein' fucking useless!"

Husk cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled after him. "I'll be sure to remember that next time you ask for a drink!" He sighed in defeat, bending down to arrange the various glasses and bottles he had knocked over. Alastor came up and leaned against the bar.

"I'll take a glass of water real quick, if you don't mind," he said. Husk complied, filling it up with tap before sliding it over to him.

"The hell he do to you? Kid was so desperate to get away you'd think he was fleeing for his life." Upon hearing the question, Al's ear twitched, another blush dusting his cheeks as he looked away. Husk looked him up and down and spoke once more. "Then again maybe he is."

"Mm. If you'll excuse me Husker, I believe I must enact some well deserved revenge." The bar tender chuckled.

"Alright, but don't rough him up too much. Charlie'll have your head if you hurt him."

Alastor waved a hand lazily as he made his way in the direction that Angel ran off. "No need to worry, our friend shall be in good hands." He sent his shadow in search of the fleeing man, rolling up his sleeves in preparation. In his time alive, one of the things he adored most was the thrill of the chase. The adrenaline rush that came with hunting down his prey was nearly more enjoyable than the act of killing. Almost. But oh how he relished in the fear glistening in their eyes and their labored breath as they were inevitably trapped, watching as he closed in. He found he was eager to see that look in Angel's eyes, though for a completely different reason.

Angel was close to his room now. He had had a few close calls, turning down halls that suddenly lead to nowhere, catching the glimpse of a dark shadow from the corner of his eye. He knew Al was fucking with him, but he was determined to make it to safety. He was almost there; he could see his door at the end of the hall. He ran that much harder, only to find he wasn't getting any closer. He looked down at his legs that were running in place and felt dread sink to the bottom of his stomach. He heard a deep, staticky chuckle from behind and gasped, trying with all his might to get to his room.

"Oh c'mon!" he yelled out in an exasperated tone, looking over his shoulder only to see the grinning deer. He gave a small wave, tilting his head to the side. Whatever magic Alastor had him trapped with vanished, and he let out a victory cry as he threw himself at his door, opening it before slamming it shut and locking it behind him. He let out a deep sigh of relief, shoulders slacking as he leaned against the door. The wood felt cool against his cheek, and he smiled to himself, finally knowing he was safe.

A slow clap sounded from behind him, and his breath hitched and caught in his throat. He whirled around to see Alastor, sitting on his bed with a stupidly smug grin as he applauded.

"Splendid! You put on quite a good show I must say, but I'm afraid the previews are over." Angel reached for the knob, only it was locked by his own doing. He pressed his back against the wall, smiling sheepishly as the man stood and slowly made his way closer to him.

"Look, A-Al, no hard feelings, right? I won't tell a soul I swear! You got my word, I'm sorry," he tried to plead.

"Did you really think I'd let you get away without having my revenge?" he asked calmly. Angel shrugged.

"Well I mean, yeah. I mean- I was hoping for it," he corrected himself, rubbing a hand behind his neck with a chuckle. Alastor snapped his fingers, opening a portal in the floor. All of a sudden, tentacles reached out and grabbed Angel and forced him onto the bed, pinning all of his limbs.

He blinked in shock before smirking. "Can't say this isn't what I'm used to. Been in worse bondage situations than this, let me tell ya," he mused, trying to mask his growing fear with his usual flirtations. Alastor sat next to him on the bed and he tried to squirm away, not getting very far. Angel shrunk in on himself, feeling very exposed underneath Alastor's gaze, and not in the way he would've liked. He gulped and spoke. "So uh, I normally ask this question with a lot more enthusiasm, but- what are you gonna do to me?" he ventured to question.

Alastor answered gladly. "I would've thought you were smart enough to know but clearly I overestimated you." Angel let out a cry of protest only to be cut off.

"I'm sure you know the phrase "an eye for an eye,"" he said, casting a sly look his way. That alone made Angel's chest shake as he fought to force down his chuckles. He tugged at his bonds but they held strong, not allowing any leeway.

"Ahahal I'm sorry! I won't do it again, promise!" Alastor smirked and rested a hand on his stomach. Angel jerked at the touch, barely holding back a squeal.

"Oh I know you won't, but I have to make sure the lesson is ingrained in your thick skull so you won't even think about trying it again." He looked down at him, smirk growing as he drummed his fingers along his stomach.

"Nohohooo," Angel whined through his giggles, trying to suck in his stomach to get away from the touch.

"Laughing so soon? Oh this is going to be fun," Alastor practically growled through static. "So, are you willing to speed things along and tell me your worst spots? Or are you going to do this the hard way?"

Angel was already in deep, he knew he shouldn't say it but the guy gift wrapped a perfect chance for a dirty joke and gave it to him on a silver platter. He couldn't help himself. "Oh you know I like it hard," he all but purred. Alastor's eye twitched and he flicked an ear. Angel's flirtatious smirk quickly fell flat as he saw his life flash before his eyes.

"Nonono wait I take it back-"

"Too late Angel. I'm delighted to say that you just dug your second grave." He dug his claws into his stomach, grin growing as he watched him writhe underneath his touch. Angel bit his lip, trying to contain his titters. Maybe if he held out long enough, Alastor would grow bored and give up. Angel always was a dreamer.

"Hm, I wouldn't have thought you of all people would play hard to get," Alastor mused. Angel screwed his eyes shut biting his lip so hard he began to taste blood. "But you'll crack sooner or later," he said. Angel was wearing a loose t-shirt, so it was easy for him to slip his hand underneath. The reaction was instantaneous; he burst into frantic cackles, tugging on his wrists weakly. Alastor gave him a lazy, nonchalant smile. "See, I knew you'd come around!"

"Nohoho you cahahan't do this to mehehe," he cried out.

"Oh but I can! In fact, I'm doing it right now!" he said with a flourish, followed by a laugh track that could barely be heard over Angel's mirth. He let out an annoyed huff when the baggy shirt slid back down over his stomach due to his squirming. "Why don't we get this out of the way?" he asked. Before Angel could question him, he snapped his fingers leaving Angel's chest bare.

"Hey that was my favorite shirt you asshole!" Alastor didn't dignify that with a response. Well, not a verbal one anyways. The thin pink line trailing the middle of his stomach caught his eye, placing a single finger on the pattern. "Whoa hey, if ya wanted me to take my shihirt off all ya hahad to do was ask nicelyyyy," his voice raised in pitch when Alastor pressed down ever so slightly. Fuck this wasn't good, his pattern was way more sensitive and he really didn't need Al of all people to figure that out.

"By now you should know that I don't ask nicely," he said, a completely sinister look in his eyes. He drug his finger up along the pink line, making Angel arch his back with a squeal, much to his delight. His finger made its way back down the same path, and Angel shook his head back and forth, squirming in the tentacles' hold.

"Nohohot thehehere," he pleaded. Alastor hummed in thought.

"You see, when you say that it really makes me want to focus all my efforts on this exact spot," he teased.

"Bihihite mehehe!" They both froze, Alastor's grin stretching across his entire face. Angel realized his mistake and even though he knew it was futile, he kicked his legs out for purchase so he could scoot away. Alastor moved to straddle his waist, leaning in closer as sharp teeth glistened. "A-Al Ihihi didn't mean it like that! Oh shit, you're not gonna eat me, are ya?" Nervousness gave way to fear as he had no chance to escape.

"Why, what an excellent idea Angel Dust! I am a cannibal after all." He lunged forth, head diving towards his stomach. Angel screamed in terror which soon gave way to hysterical screams of laughter as Alastor nibbled and nuzzled against his stomach.

"Fuhuhuhuck it tihihickles so damn muhuhuch!" he yelled, trying to curl in on himself, but Alastor's magic held firm. He rose his head back up from the fluff, sputtering before picking a few hairs from his mouth. Angel gasped for breath during the break he knew wouldn't last long.

Alastor wiped his tongue on his sleeve to rid his mouth of any excess fluff. "Suddenly I've lost my appetite!"

"Greheat, so can you lehehet me gohoho?" Angel asked, fearing the answer. Alastor tapped his chin in thought, studying his form before answering.

"I suppose I could, but there's one spot left I want to try," Alastor said, eyes falling on his exposed hollows. Angel followed his gaze, eyes going wide with realization as an excited sort of panic flooded his body. Giggles bubbled out of his mouth that was stretched in an anxious smile, gold tooth gleaming.

"No please, anywhere but there," Angel begged, his efforts to escape doubling but still yielding the same results. Alastor smirked as he rested his hands right below his second pair of arms. Just doing that made him jerk and let out a small squeal. Alastor tilted his head, a devious look on his face.

"Oh Angel, you don't really get a say in the matter," he said, and then he attacked. He was completely lost to his laughter as Alastor scratched and skittered in his underarms, switching rapidly between them all to keep him a jumpy hysterical mess. He drilled his thumbs into the fur and kneaded around the sensitive area. He had to hold back his own chuckles once Angel started hiccuping amongst his cries of laughter. He finally granted him mercy, snapping his fingers and releasing his hold on the other demon. He sat beside him as Angel's giggles trailed off, interrupted every once in a while by another hiccup. Alastor notes that he hadn't moved at all, arms still raised and laying on the bed.

Angel glared up at him. "Damn you, you fuckin' prick. You're a fucki- fucking monster," he said, having to restart the word when another embarrassing hiccup broke up his speech. Alastor just smirked, narrowing his eyes.

"A tickle monster," he felt the need to correct. Angel groaned, a bright blush growing on his face. He covered his face with his lower set of hands, hoping that Alastor would at least be nice enough not to comment on it. "I hope it goes without saying that none of what happened is to leave this room," he threatened in a nicer tone, though it was a threat none the less. Angel sat up, waving a hand at him.

"Yeah yeah, trust me I don't want anyone else to know." Angel perked up, head snapping to look at Alastor. "Hey what'd you do with my shirt?" Alastor pointed around a pile of clothes in the corner, the soft pink shirt laying on top. He walked over, slipping it over his head. He noticed him staring at him, a smug, knowing look on his face. Angel narrowed his eyes.

"What?"

Alastor glanced down at his nails nonchalantly. "Nothing, just noticed something rather peculiar." Angel flopped onto his bed, making him bounce with the mattress.

"Mind sharin' with the class?" he asked, even though he had a feeling he would regret it.

"I don't recall hearing you tell me to stop," he said with a sly smile. The curious grin on Angel's face immediately disappeared, cheeks heating up. He refused to meet his eyes as he struggled for a comeback.

"I- you- well- how could I, I was laughin' too hard!" he justified.

"You didn't seem to have any trouble saying other things," he beamed, holding up a hand when Angel grabbed a pillow and started beating him with it.

"Shut the hell up!"

"You like it!"

"SHUT UP!"

Alastor's static filled chuckles rang through the air. He even had the audacity to pinch his cheek before standing. "Glad to see you're feeling better. Laughter is the best medicine after all," he said.

Angel crossed his lower pair of arms, trying to hide his smile behind his hand. "Heh, I guess so."

Alastor was at the door, hand on the knob before he looked over his shoulder at Angel Dust. "Don't be shy to come find me if you ever need any more cheering up," he teased with a wink. Angel's face was practically on fire, and for once he didn't have a witty comeback. Alastor gave an amused huff before closing the door, leaving Angel alone to think about all that just happened.

#alastor #angel dust #husk #husker #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel tickle fic #ticklish!alastor #ticklish!angel #ticklish!angel dust

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Prompt: Hi are you still doing Merlin prompts? If so, I’d love to see some bonding with Gwaine and Arthur? You write amazingly and I know you usually focus on Merlin, but I’d love to see those two learn to get along. Maybe they’re on a duo quest to find Merlin and slowly grow together over it? Thank you and no pressure if you’d prefer not to write it!

Thanks for the prompt!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: None

Pairings: none, although you can read it as whatever you’d like, Merthur, Gwaine/Merlin, don’t mind

Word Count: 2876

Arthur’s not exactly sure why Merlin has a habit of disappearing during the day, but he does know the tavern bill isn’t nearly as high as it should be if that’s where Merlin was always going. Gaius may always say—well, not say, more like heavily imply until Arthur puts that together for himself—that Merlin’s there, but Arthur knows better.

Which means Merlin’s just flat-out missing.

Great.

“Arthur,” Guinevere calls as she hustles down the steps, “you’re not going alone, are you?”

“If that’s what it takes, then I will.”

“But you know you can’t go alone, what if you—“

“Guinevere,” Arthur says gently, stepping back to cup her hands in his, “you know I have to go.”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you should bring someone with you.”

“He’s not going alone,” calls another voice.

They both look around to see Gwaine already mounted, riding into the square. He tips Guinevere a deep nod and raises an eyebrow at Arthur.

“Well? You going to get your royal arse onto the horse or not?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I’ll be back.”

“You’d better.”

“About time,” Gwaine calls cheerfully as they start out of the gate, “you’d think you’d show a little more enthusiasm.”

“We’re here to find Merlin,” Arthur says as firmly as he can, “so let’s get started.”

He urges Hallariel into a gallop, racing through the fields until they reach the deeper woods. To his dismay, Gwaine easily keeps pace. If anything, the knight looks more comfortable on the horse than Arthur feels. He grits his teeth and keeps on.

The forest is empty, no sign of Merlin. They ride on. Gwaine is surprisingly quiet as they search, finally noticing a scrap of Merlin’s neck kerchief heading south.

They slow, giving the horses a break, until Gwaine digs out a scrap of the dries meat and tears into it.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Can’t wait until we’re stopped, can you?”

Gwaine shrugs. “‘M hungry. Aren’t you?”

Arthur is, but he’ll be damned if he’s just going to tell Gwaine that.

“Look, you wanna sit there and not eat, that’s fine with me.”

“Given how much you eat, I’m surprised you still get hungry.”

“Well, when you’re not sure how long you’ll have food or when you’ll get it next, you eat when you’re hungry.”

The blasé way Gwaine says it gives Arthur pause. He twists around to see Gwaine still eating, glancing around to find more trace of Merlin. He looks at the knight.

Gwaine is strong, not as strong as Percival—though who is?—but a strong knight. He sits a horse well, he fights with great skill, and he’s incredibly adept at handling himself.

He catches Arthur looking and raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

Arthur blinks and shakes his head.

“There’s a tavern not too far from here. We can stay the night there.”

“Don’t want to camp out in the woods?”

“You can afford it.”

The tavern is small. Modest, even. The innkeeper smiles wide when they come in the door, respectfully asking to stay the night. She bows low and shows them to their rooms, telling them when dinner will be served and that if they need anything, absolutely anything, not to hesitate to ask.

“Just make sure you’ve plenty of food,” Arthur warns with a smile, “my friend here has quite the appetite.”

She smiles and leaves. Arthur turns around to see Gwaine turning the scrap of fabric over and over in his fingers.

“You alright?”

“Never better,” Gwaine says cheerfully—too cheerfully—as he stows the fabric away, “you have a plan on where to head next?”

“There’s another pass further south,” Arthur says, still frowning a little, “we can ask if anyone’s seen him heading there.”

“Merlin didn’t say anything, by any chance, did he?”

“No.”

Gwaine hums thoughtfully. “And you haven’t been…talking or worrying about anything with him, have you?”

Arthur glares. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you?”

“I don’t see why it’s any of your business what I talk about with Merlin.”

“Given he’s missing and you’re the one he talks the most to, I think it is.”

“I think you should trust my judgment,” Arthur says firmly, “and that I shall choose what to share appropriately.”

Something flickers across Gwaine’s face too quickly for Arthur to name. The knight smiles and claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s see what’s for dinner here, shall we?”

They sit downstairs as the innkeeper bustles back over with their food. She bobbles a curtsy and goes to the other guests. As Arthur glances around the mostly full room, he sees the amount of food on their plates is significantly more than the food on the others.

Gwaine, of course, is already eating, although he sees the knight perform the same glance. Within no time, their plates are empty, Arthur’s belly pleasantly full.

“How was it,” the innkeeper asks anxiously, worrying her hands into her apron, “was it to your liking, m’lords?”

“It was wonderful, Hilda,” Gwaine says before Arthur can say anything, “and I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Arthur frowns at him as Hilda pays him no mind.

“Oh, well, thank you, m’lord, I can only hope the rest of my cooking will be good enough.”

“I’m sure it will be.” Gwaine smiles and takes two gold coins out of his purse. “For your troubles.”

“Oh, m’lord, I can’t accept this, it’s too much! And the food is already included with your room and board, m’lord, I—“

“Please.” He puts the money into her hands. “Allow me.”

“Thank you, m’lord, I—thank you.”

She bows and hurries away.

Gwaine turns to Arthur. “You planning on catching flies like that?”

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“It’s called ‘paying,’ Princess, surely you’re familiar.”

“But you—you’re—the food—“

“Was excellent,” Gwaine says firmly with a tone that reminds him vaguely of Merlin, “and very generous.”

“What is going on,” Arthur hisses, “and what game are you playing?”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow. “You want to have this conversation here?”

With a tact that Gwaine does not employ often, let alone any time Arthur’s actually seen, the knight moves them back upstairs to their beds. He takes a seat as Arthur starts to pace.

“What’s got your pretty little head so worried?”

“You’ve never turned down more food as long as I’ve known you. And you certainly haven’t voluntarily paid for it.”

“Camelot is a kingdom that has more food than any one person could hope to eat,” Gwaine replies, propping his hand up on his knee, “and it comes from the castle kitchens. This place is an inn, run by the people, for the people, with none of the luxuries of Camelot’s heart.”

Gwaine motions around. “These people do their best. Their best should be rewarded, shouldn’t it?”

Arthur stares hard at Gwaine.

Gwaine meets his gaze easily, raising his eyebrow. “You don’t actually think all this is as easy as everyone makes it out to be, do you?”

“What?”

“You’ve never farmed,” Gwaine says, “never known the fear of what happens if your harvest goes bad. You have the security of the castle, of the city. These people don’t. And you’ve never had to worry about coin in your pretty little life.”

And here’s the thing, Arthur knows that. He knows he doesn’t know a lot about what life is like for the people he rules. He knows that.

But he doesn’t know that.

Gwaine seems to take his silence as whatever answer he’s looking for. The knight turns on his side and starts to take his heavy armor off.

“Merlin’s heading south, you think?”

Arthur nods. “I’m not sure what else is out that way. This is probably the last town we’ll come across for a while.”

“Then it’s a good thing we stopped, isn’t it?”

“…yes, I suppose it is.”

Gwaine falls asleep quickly. Arthur stays awake a little longer, looking at the ceiling.

Huh.

In the morning, Gwaine gives the innkeeper another few gold coins after breakfast, as does Arthur. They both insist she takes them, that their stay has been truly lovely. They ask if anyone’s seen Merlin, a skinny, dark-haired man heading through here.

“Aye,” an older man speaks up, “I seen him. Heading toward the pass, he was, said something about a cave system.”

“Cave system?” Gwaine glances at Arthur. “Rung any bells?”

Arthur pays the man for the information and saddles up before Gwaine can ask any more questions. It lasts until the tavern is out of sight.

“Alright,” Gwaine says without any preamble, “now tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Bollocks. Your pretty pampered face went two shades whiter when that man said something about the caves. Now tell me what’s happened with Merlin.”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“Unless it’s very much escaped your notice, Sire, I’m out here looking for my friend. Not your servant, not a servant of Camelot, Merlin,” Gwaine says in a low, dangerous voice, “and if you do not tell me the truth, I will be performing the rest of this search myself.”

It takes Arthur aback, that’s for sure. He looks at Gwaine, who looks as serious as Arthur’s ever seen him, and pulls Hallariel to a halt.

“Threatening a king is treason, Sir Gwaine.”

“Withholding information is worse.”

“I thought I asked you to trust me.”

Gwaine stares down at Arthur. It’s funny, he never noticed that Gwaine is…taller.

“You really don’t know a damn thing,” Gwaine growls, “do you?”

Before Arthur can answer, Gwaine wheels his horse around and starts moving toward the pass again. Arthur has to urge Hallariel to a trot to keep up. For the next few hours, they don’t speak. The tense silence feels like a weight on Arthur’s armor.

He knows Gwaine and Merlin are close. He knows Gwaine cares for Merlin.

What he doesn’t understand is this.

If…if Gwaine cares for Merlin, then he must want Merlin found, right? If Arthur knows how to find him, he has to trust Arthur, right?

Then why isn’t he doing that?

“Here.” Gwaine swings off his horse and ties it to the stump he lands on. “We’ll camp here.”

Arthur wants to say that he’s the king, thank you very much, so he’ll decide where they stay, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll collect the firewood.”

“Since when do you know how to collect firewood?” And Gwaine’s gone.

Well, he has a point.

Arthur gets their bedrolls set up instead and digs a fire pit. By the time Gwaine gets back, everything’s ready except for the food. Gain sets the wire and proceeds his flint and steel. The fire lights. It’s not as warm as it should be.

They sit in silence.

“…how did you learn how to do all this,” Arthur says quietly after a while, “if you grew up as a noble?”

Gwaine stiffens. “Who told you that?”

“I know you fake it,” Arthur says, “how clumsy you make yourself out to be. But you fight like a noble.”

“What’s that mean?”

Arthur allows himself a small smile. “Like you’ve been trained by someone who’s not cheap.”

It makes Gwaine snort, at any rate. The camp lapses back into silence, but it’s not as heavy as before.

“Nobles are,” Gwaine starts, “an interesting group of people. All talk, most of the time, when they remember how.”

Arthur stays quiet.

“They don’t understand things,” Gwaine continues, his voice growing heavy, “they don’t see things as well as they should. And people get hurt because of that.”

That Arthur knows all too well.

“The common people are the ones who suffer when the lords play their games,” Gwaine says, “they lie and they scheme and they grab for power and they forget why they’re supposed to have it in the first place.”

“To care for the people,” Arthur says quietly, “and so what they can’t do for themselves.”

Gwaine looks at him. In the flickering light, Gwaine looks—well, he looks like he suits the fine robes as well as Arthur.

“I was never very good at their games,” he settles on finally, “but I was good at people. So I left.”

“And you became one of them.”

“Put your faith in systems and you’ll always end up disappointed. Put it in people and you’ll always be surprised.”

“The world isn’t that…easy,” Arthur decides on eventually, “it’s not designed to be.”

“No.” Gwaine looks back into the fire. “I’m sure you’ve been told that, right? That most people will never make a difference, no matter how hard they try? That the world’s just too big?”

“My father—“ Gwaine makes a noise— “he always demanded that we keep the systems intact, that it was the best course of action, that change would be worse.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Not anymore.”

Gwaine sits back. “It’s true to a certain extent, I suppose. That most people won’t ever make a big enough difference.”

“Gwaine—“

“Come on,” Gwaine says with a smile, a sad smile, “you know that. Hilda back there, for example, you can’t tell me that she’ll change the world, can you?”

“…no.”

“But,” Gwaine says, “because we gave her those coins, she can have her inn fixed up. So she can host more guests and take care of her daughter. Then maybe her daughter won’t have to get married young and sell the inn.”

Arthur’s head tilts.

“They may never change the world,” Gwaine says, “but it makes a difference for them.”

Oh.

“Thank you,” Arthur murmurs, “thank you, Gwaine.”

Gwaine waves him off. “Merlin’s not here to beat things into your head, guess someone has to.”

Arthur huffs. “You’re here for Merlin, aren’t you?”

“What, here in this forest or as a knight of Camelot?”

“Both?”

“Both,” Gwaine nods, fixing Arthur with a look, “is that a problem?”

Is it?

“Considering I’m in a very similar position,” Arthur admits, with far more honesty than he’d like, “no, not at all.”

Gwaine raises his water skin. Arthur raises his. They toast to Merlin.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Gwaine says after they’ve eaten their fill, “the next day’s a hard ride.”

“Is that near where the caves are?”

“It should be.” As they bed down for the night, Gwaine looks at him. “Will you tell me where we’re going tomorrow?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Good.”

The morning is cool. A light mist settles over the air as they mount up and get rid of the camp. Gwaine rides in front, pointing out the tricky parts and slopes as they pick their way toward the pass.

“So,” he calls over his shoulder, “what are we looking for?”

“There’s a cave,” Arthur says, “of legend. Rumor has it that when the moon turns dark and the rivers run dry, something happens.”

“Sounds maudlin.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So why’s Merlin out here?”

“Remember when the wells all stopped working?”

“A week before we left?”

“Merlin came to me that morning, worried.”

Gwaine’s shoulders tense. “Was he alright?”

“Physically,” Arthur says, “I couldn’t find any injuries, but he—he seemed anxious.”

Gwaine snorts. “Merlin’s anxious a lot. Bears listening to.”

“Which is why I asked.”

The next question is colored with something that might be approval. “What’d he tell you?”

“What I just told you about the cave. Said it merited looking into.”

“Were you planning on it?”

“Yes.” Gwaine twists around. “I was!”

“Then why is Merlin out here alone?”

“Because the idiot decided to run off in the middle of the night instead of waiting for me.”

Gwaine chuckles as he turns back around. “Yep, that sounds like Merlin.”

“He’s going to get himself killed doing that one day,” Arthur grumbles, mostly to himself, “if he keeps waltzing off with no armor and no one to protect him.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing he’s got us, isn’t it?”

“…yes, yes it is.”

“I’ll tell you,” Gwaine says as they round the corner to the pass, “I’m tempted to tell him off when we do find him.”

“You’ll have to get in line.”

“You think you can beat me, Princess?”

“I think you’re going to try and beat me.”

“You’re on.”

Merlin, when they finally find him, walking out of a cave with a suspicious singe to his tunic, just looks like a confused doe when Gwaine and Arthur start scolding him like two parents. And if he’s even more confused when the two of them seem to get along on the way back—with Merlin riding in the middle of them, thank you very much, you’re not vanishing on us again, Merlin—then he keeps his questions to himself until they’re back in Camelot.

And if Arthur starts going to the tavern, well…

Now he’s really curious where Merlin’s going, because he’s sure as hell not here.

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #gwaine #fic #dragonbabbles

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friendship-ended-with-pokespe · 4 years

Text

Kirby: Rescue the Friend in the Great Labyrinth! Chapter 4

Looking around the workshop, Waddle Dee was wide-eyed in amazement. “Wow......amazing!” Several works of art that Claycia has made up to this point were lined up on the shelfs along the wall. You cannot understand what any of their motifs are.

Works resembling an animal, a plant, a rock, a furniture, a trash......at any rate, it’s jam-packed with puzzling works. Kirby gazed at a certain sculpture and said. “What’s this? It looks like a milk bottle, melon bread, and Chef Kawasaki combined......” “That’s a touching sculpture expressing eternal love! Doesn’t your heart tremble from looking at it?” “Hmm, it doesn’t look very yummy.” “What’s this one?” King Dedede stepped before a work of art. “It looks like a birthday cake turned upside down and trampled with katsuobushi sprinkled on top.” “It’s a magnum opus expressing the beginning and the end of the universe! Eek, don’t touch it!” Meta Knight spoke. “I don’t understand what is what......” “That’s because you’re an average person.” “Hm. In any case, these are the works of art? Doesn’t seem like we could help.” “I was saying that from the start. You should leave if you get it now......” “It’s ok-ay!” Shouts Kirby, hopping up. His eyes are sparkling like a star. “I can help! This looks really fun!” “......Huh?” “I didn’t know that an art would be this fun! I feel like I realized my own artistic talent! Yay!” Shouting Kirby in joy, and ran to the corner of the room. What she uses as materials for her work were piled up there. Clays, wires, blocks of wood, nails, strings, scraps of cloth, and whatnot. “These are all I need to make an art every now and then, huh! Alrighty, I’ll do my best!” “H......Hang on a sec......” She tried to stop him, but she pondered suddenly and muttered. “But...... a blank mind that’s never been exposed to art might be able to pull off a miracle. A child like Kirby is too preposterous for me to anticipate what he would make. True art could be in him!” Clay sat on a chair. “Alright Kirby, why don’t you show me what you’ve got? I can’t wait to see what art your absurd heart will bring forth!” “You can count on me!” Kirby began kneading a clay with much excitement. Needless to say, King Dedede was the one to see him and lose control of his temper. “Hmph! You think he has any clue about art!? I’m the true artist!” Claycia looked at the king with vacant eyes. “Hmmm, your absurdity may not lose to Kirby, but I can’t sense any pureness in you like Kirby. Your heart is like a sock that hasn’t been washed for a week, where I don’t think it can produce a beautiful art.” “You ninny, you don’t seem to grasp my overflowing talent!” “So cool, Your Majesty! Please give it your all!” Clapped Waddle Dee, cheering for him. Meta Knight and flops down right on the spot. Magolor grumbled. “Gosh......Kirby and King Dedede are both forgetting our goal! We aren’t on a journey for art. It’s to rescue my friend!” “It won’t take long.” Said Meta Knight. “They’re both equally matched in their lack of perseverance. They’ll get tired of it soon enough.” “But......I’m worried about my friend......” “You didn’t seem to mind it until now, but you're suddenly worried for him like you just thought of it, huh, Magolor? Where is your heart really at......?” “......” With no response, Magolor plopped close to the wall and watched the work of Kirby and his friends.

It was just as Meta Knight had expected. Before long, Kirby and King Dedede lost interest in art. Sticking a chopstop in the object that he made by kneading the clay, Kirby shouts “I’m done!” “What a fantastic art this is! Am I a genius or what!?” “......I’ll hear from you for now. What is it expressing?” To Claycia’s offhand question, Kirby answered boldly. “The tastiest dango in the universe! I expressed my love for dangos!” “I see, and as for Mr. King Dedede?” “Haha! Don’t be surprised!” King Dedede exaggeratedly lifted up a lump of clay wrapped in cloth in display. “My work is in a different league from Kirby’s. Built up in a universal scale, it’s a mind-blowingly Dededeish, Dedede-style, Dedede......” “That’s great and all, but what’s the theme?” “I expressed the magnificent feeling of all the foods that exist in this universe being offered to my stomach. So to speak, that’s where all my ambitions are!” “Your ambitions, sure.”

Claycia turned away and sighed. “Phew......I’m in tears from my stupidity of expecting anything from you guys. An average person is really an average person. “......Hmm? What do you mean?” “Don’t worry about it. Sigh......that was a complete waste of time. I need to get it together and focus on my artistic work......” Clacia stood up and stared at Kirby and King Dedede’s work. Her countenance showed her regret of time spent in waste, but...... Her dull eyes sparkled suddenly like a star. “Mm......? Hmm......? Wait a minute! Just now, an miraculous insight came into my artistic mind!” “Huh?” “T-This is......!” Kneeling before the work of Kirby and King Dedede, Claycia said in a voice trembling in passion. “Ohhh......the miraculous images are flowing out one after another!” “Claycia......?” “This the first time. What an ingenious flash of inspiration! I’ll create the greatest masterpiece up until now......!” Clasping both her hands, Claycia looks up at the sky as she weeps. Exchanging glances, Kirby and King Dedede both exclaimed at the same time. “It looks like we were of help to her!” “Wahahaha! It seems my superb work of art gave her a hint. She’ll have to give me plenty in return!” “Elline and Claycia will be able to patch things up with this. What a relief!” Kirby and Dedede jumped about, hands together in unusual friendliness. “Strange things could always happen, I suppose.” Said Meta Knight quietly. “To all appearances, the pair’s work only looks like garbage, but......how did it shook her heart? I can’t comprehend it.” “That’s because you don’t have any artistic taste!” “He’s right, Meta Knight!” “An artist will understand the brilliance in my work from just a glance!” “He’s right, Meta Knight!” Kirby and King Dedede started laughing in good humor. Claycia rose up quickly and said while kicking away the work of Kirby and King Dedede. “I mustn’t let eyesores like these run rampant all over the world! This world should only be filled with beautiful things!” “......Eh?” “I should create something that’s beautiful, sublime, and heart-trembling! That is the duty of an artist: to save this unsightly world!” Claycia shouts with rapt attention. “My eyes were opened thanks to the stuff from the ordinary people. I can’t stop here. I’ll make the most beautiful work!” While shedding tears, Claycia squeezed Kirby and King Dedede’s hands. “Thank you, ordinary folks! I came to realize my duty from you guys’ awful works! Only a true genius can send beauty to this world. That is to say, only I, Claycia!” “E......Ehh......?” “This world will be filled with eyesores if not for me. I will make it! The finest work that’ll beautify this world......!” Claycia got her skates on. “Please leave, would you? Before this ingenious inspiration disappears!” “I-Inspiration......?” “I said get out! I’ll give shape to all my overflowing imagination-!!!” Kirby was chased out from the workshop. Kirby didn’t have the slightest clue as to what Claycia was saying. He said in a daze. “What happened? She was overdoing the compliments on me, wasn’t she?” “Nggghhh......looks like that wench sees me as a rival. Darn it all, even my talent means trouble.” “That’s great. Her artistic taste doesn’t seem to be too different from mine.” Said Meta Knight. “Hm? What do you mean by that?” “Nothing really. At any rate, we made her come through her slump. All we need to do now is to wait for her work to be completed.”

Kirby and his friends didn’t have to wait for very long. For Claycia, having gained an artistic insight, completed her work in only a few hours. Coming out of the workshop, Claycia had a bright face. Her stiff attitude is gone, with a friendly look instead. And finally, a very small work was on the palm of her hand. Together with Kirby and his friends, Elline was waiting for Claycia, where she fluttered her pale wings and rushed at her. “You’re done with your work, Claycia!?” “Yeah, I’m done. It’s my magnum opus. Please look, Elline.” Kirby and the others couldn’t understand what it was from their eyes. Kirby said in a low voice. “What’s that. It looks like a snail tossed and turned in its sleep and kicked away its blanket......” “Huhu, you chump has no taste. That’s displaying a wonton noodle soup blown away by a hurricane.” “......I don’t really get it, but it's a fascinating work somehow.” That is the impression of Meta Knight. Waddle Dee nodded in agreement. “I think so too, sir. My heart is getting warm for some reason.” “Aye. It’s far better than any work from Clacia up to now.” Their whispers fortunately didn’t reach Elline and Claycia. “So pretty......how lovely this is, Claycia! An image of the morning sky......an image of a garden grass......and the harmony of the sky and the land......are all being conveyed.” Said Elline, her voice trembling from all the emotion.

”......” Kirby and his friends exchanged whispers once again. “The morning sky.” “The garden grass, she says.” “The sky and the land......uhh.” “I didn’t get any of it.” Elline continued. “I love all of your works, but this is the best. It’s a really lovely work......tears come out when I keep looking at it.” “I made this for you, Elline.” Elline felt a little embarrassed and talked fast. “Huh? For me......?” “It’ll be your birthday soon, right? I was desperate to make it in time no matter what.” Elline was shocked and blinked her eyes. “Claycia......” “I was so desperate that I ended up in a slump, huh. How I could make you happy, the more I thought about it, the more I didn’t know......I was pretty awful to you, wasn’t I? I’m sorry......I don’t remember it very well myself.” “Geez, Claycia!” Elline started laughing with a voice like that of a jingling bell. “You’re always like that. You focus on your creation and forget everything around you.” “I’m really sorry, Elline......” “No problem! I love that side of you!” Closing her eyes gently, Elline embraced the gift from Claycia dearly. For Claycia, the work was small enough to be placed on her hand, but it was big enough to be an armful for the tiny Elline. “......I’m really happy. Thanks, Claycia. Sorry for getting the wrong idea even when you were making the work for me.” “It’s not actually complete yet you see.” “Huh?” “I want you to add something to it. Since it’s your duty to paint my work!” Elline’s face glowed. “Gotcha! I’m all pumped up now. Let’s make the very best work, Claycia.” “I’m leaving it to you, Elline.” Exchanging looks, the pair began laughing cheerfully. Having been caught up in them, Kirby’s face was beaming as well. “What a relief! Elline and Claycia were able to make up.” “It was all thanks to me. I'll be taking the reward in plenty!” “That is very tasteless, King Dedede.” Meta Knight chided him. “It’s not all peaches and cream just because the pair regained their smiles. We still have something left to do.” “Right he is!” Having been facing the back in tedium, Magolor turned around and agreed with both his hands raised. “We’ve got to go and find my friend! Let’s make haste and go back to the Great Labyrinth of the Mirror!” “The Great Labyrinth......of the Mirror?” Claycia overhears and cuts in on them. “You guys are going into the Great Labyrinth of the Mirror?” “Uh-huh! It’s to rescue Magolor’s friend!” Kirby jumps up and answers. “We strayed up to Elline’s room on the way. But it’s all okay now! We’ll go back to the Mirror World soon enough!” “Hold on” Claycia said quickly. “I heard that the Great Labyrinth of the Mirror is quite challenging. I haven’t lost my way there before, but I do know of some rumors. They say that it’s very complex, spacious, and can never get out once you lose your way.” “Yup, we got lost.” “I see then......” Claycia pondered and said. “I might be of some use to you guys.” “Huh?” “Elline, bring “that.”” “Gotcha!” The two are in perfect harmony. Even without Claycia saying in detail, Elline nods and flies off to somewhere. What she came back with were some drawing paper and crayons. Claycia received it and said. “Kirby, do you remember our battle in Seventopia?” “Yeah, of course!” “I don’t have any memory of when I was controlled, but I did hear from Elline afterward. I heard that I was saved thanks to your great efforts.” “Ehe!” Kirby spun once in delight. “She used a canvas at that time, didn’t she?” “A canvas......?” Elline expanded on it. “I drew a picture and transformed you into a tank or a submarine, right?” “Uh-huh!” Nodded Kirby, thinking back to the days of adventure spent with Elline. “That was really fun. It was the first time that I transformed into a tank or a submarine!” “Using that power, you might be able to proceed through the labyrinth without getting lost.” “Huh?” “I’ll try it out.” Claycia drew a picture on the drawing paper. It’s a drawing of a cute pink and white rocket. Claycia raised the drawing that she drew high. With it, the sketch of a rocket flew out of the paper. The rocket combined with Kirby, as though it was wrapping his body.

Waddle Dee jumped up in surprise. “Whoa, amazing! Kirby turned into a rocket!” Having transformed into a rocket, Kirby said. “It’s Kirby Rocket. It can blow enemies easily away. It’s really powerful!” “That’s not all.” Said Elline. “This rocket has a high-performance rader. It can automatically head to its destination.” “That means......” “You’ll proceed through even the Great Labyrinth without getting lost. It’s a beeline to the destination.” “Wow!” Kirby tried to jump about in delight, but Waddle Dee stopped in in a panic. “You can’t! You’re different from your usual self right now. You’ll tear down the ceiling like that.” “Ah, okay.” Kirby looked down at Claycia.” “Thanks, Claycia.” “I’m the one that should thank you, Kirby. I was saved twice, from when we fought and right now. I’m really thankful.” Claycia held out the drawing paper and the crayons. “I’ll give this to you as a gift. This drawing paper is made of the same materials as the one that Elline used in that battle. You’ll be able to transform into the vehicle that you draw.” Waddle Dee accepted it, in place of Kirby who couldn’t use his hands. “The transformation ability has a time limit. If the transformation wears off before you reach the destination, you can draw the Kirby Rocket in that drawing paper again.” “Thanks a bunch!” Kirby turned to face his friends. “Off we go at last! Let’s go to rescue Magolor’s friends. Cheerio, Claycia, Elline. Come to visit us in Dream Land.” “Sure. We’ll come over as a pair someday.” “Be careful out there, Kirby.”

Passing through the mirror in Elline’s room, Kirby and his friends head to the Great Labyrinth of the Mirror a second time:

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Table of contents

#kirby novels #kirby of the stars #light novel #translation #kirby rocket #waddle dee #king dedede #meta knight #magolor #elline #claycia

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found (Seven)

Soooo this Chapter only did like, one of the things it was supposed to and everything else just sort of happened and I got tired of arguing with it to make it behave so here, have a Chapter Seven that is only slightly like the one I outlined.

I made myself cry with this first part, so Tissue Warning!

MASTERLIST HERE

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37%

“JARVIS?”

“The constant tests you’ve been running with the new suit have taken a toll, sir. My original algorithm assumed you would be resting more days than not, as one should when faced with the possibly of an upcoming expiration date but with your continued activity, my projections have been rendered obsolete.”

“Okay.” Tony squeezed at the blood toxicity monitor until the casing edges cut into his palm. “Newest estimations?”

“Given your rate of use with the reactor and the new, more powerful prototype, my previous count of three months with minimal usage will need to be dialed back to little more than eight weeks, sir.”

“Okay.” He said again, almost neutrally as if he wasn’t discussing an expiration date with his AI. “Okay, little more than eight weeks. So all the tests I ran in the War Machine prototype over the last few days cost me what, seven days?”

“Eleven days, actually.”

“Okay.” Tony said a third time, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say. “That's-- thanks, J.”

The tests were necessary, they really were. Coding Rhodey’s suit ahead of time was important because Tony was running out of time. The Senate was definitely going to order him to turn over the tech, and even if they didn’t, the suits would definitely be confiscated by the Department of Defense at some point whether Tony was around or not. The least he could do was make sure armor could only be used by one man, that the technology inside was coded to the one person Tony knew wouldn’t make a mockery or a weapon out of what was supposed to be a shield.

Right after Obadiah, Rhodey had been so purposefully casually about eyeballing the still unfinished silver suit and commenting, “You should come up with a name for your tech, Tony. Calling it ‘the suit’ doesn’t seem like enough. I’d call it...War Machine or something.”

War Machine and Tony had etched the name in tiny letters along the jawline of the helmet so when Rhodey suited up for the first time, he’d hopefully remember that throw away comment and laugh a little bit.

War Machine and it was fine tuned to the point of near impossible maneuvers, filled to the brim with every prototype weapon Tony had designed for his own suit and a few more that were meant for something a little more hulking, a little more heavy duty. An individual arc reactor placed within the molded chest would power the suit for ever with the added benefit of not poisoning the wearer and--

--and Tony’s hands shook when he unscrewed the cap on a green smoothie.

37%.

“How is the uh--” the first drink was always brutal, and Tony had to put his head down and suck in a deep breath to get over the taste. “--how is the suitcase suit coming? We need a better name for that, don’t we?”

“Perhaps we can call it a football, sir.”

“Right.” Tony nodded a few times. “Carry it in a briefcase just like all the nuke launch codes. That will definitely reinforce the Senate’s thought of my suit being a weapon of mass destruction. Great idea.”

“Your mockery wounds me.”

“No, I was serious.” Tony laughed up at the petulant AI. “We’ll call it a football. Make Happy practice playing catch with it. Uhhhh okay. Football. How is it coming?”

“Nearly completed.”

“Good. I need an option beyond hauling the full suit everywhere, and so will Rhodey. Have we started construction on the individual gauntlets yet? I’m thinking something that comes out of my watch.”

“It will have to be near nano technology to accomplish that, but we can try.”

“Let’s try. I’d like the football ready before Monaco, I need to take it for a test drive somewhere outside of Dum-E’s fire extinguisher range.” Tony glanced over at the impressive dent in the lab ceiling that had been one of his very first test runs. “Also some place where if the repulsors come online too soon, I can hit the atmosphere and not the ceiling.”

“Of course sir. Hurtling off into unknown and uncharted space would always be the preferred option before bouncing off support beams and landing on priceless car collections.”

“You know me too well, J.” Tony leaned back in the chair and blew out a deep breath. “Show me the night sky. Stars above Manhattan, maybe. What I’d be looking at if I actually had the time to build that tower.”

“Does this mean you’ve decided to scrap the plans for Stark Tower?” The space above Tony’s head lit holographic blue then settled into a starry night, the correct constellations and moon placement for the Manhattan sky projected against the ceiling.

“I won’t have a chance to even get the blueprints approved.” Tony stared up at the stars, sipping idly from his smoothie. “No sense doing that when I won’t be around to see the ground breaking ceremony.”

“Sir, if I may--”

“Maybe blasting off into the atmosphere wouldn’t be such a bad way to go.” Tony interrupted. “I’ve always wanted to see space, maybe I’ll get lucky and the new suit will tear a hole in the sky and show me what’s beyond, what’s waiting out there.”

And softer, “It’d be a good way to go, don’t you think? Space?”

The artificial star light reflected off the tears gathering in Tony’s eyes and he tried to blink them away. “Would be nice to skip the poisoning and the hospice care and the heart failure and everyone crying, you know. Higher, faster, further like our friend Carol used to say. She did it, she just went right up there into the sky higher, faster further and she never came back down again. Fuckin’ wild.”

Another sip. “My repulsors are better than the prototype light speed engine was, a little bit of torque and we could break the sound barrier ten times over and then some. I could take the suit up until the thrusters give out and then we could just float up there in the stars. Fall asleep and drift away.”

JARVIS was quiet and Tony put a heart to his chest as it squeezed around a too choppy breath. “Would be nice to just fall asleep, J. It’d be nice to finally get some rest.”

The stars above Manhattan moved too slowly to notice, but Tony sat and watched them anyway, alone in the semi dark lab for close to an hour before his watch pinged that it was time to get on the plane towards New York.

“Save this for me.” Tony reached out and touched one of the tiny specks of lights, his fingers passing through the hologram. “Save it so I can look at it again, okay?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Thank you.” Tony gathered up a few things for his pockets then ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. If he was going to go on what was sort of a first date with an amnesiac former soldier, he should probably wash some of the depression off first. “I’m off to the Expo, J. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” JARVIS said automatically, and then, “Please come home again, sir. I wish you all the rest in the world, but I’d rather it be here than drifting off in the stars.”

Tony’s smile up at the ceiling was wobbly and a little sad.

“Good night, J.”

**************

The Stark jet cut the nearly five hour flight from Malibu to New York down to little more than two hours, and Tony spent most of it sitting next to Pepper going through notes for his speech, additional paperwork for the company and what looked like several minutes of nothing but Tony teasing the formidable redhead and Pepper giving it all right back and then some if Tony’s faux wounded expressions were anything to go by.

They were laughing and a few times Tony reached to hold Pepper’s hand, winding their fingers together and kissing her knuckles while Pepper just rolled her eyes at whatever he said. They were clearly best friends, clearly in sync after what James had found out was over a decade of working together and it was honestly remarkable to see.

More than once Tony finished Pepper's sentences, at least twice she took a bite of her food and then handed him the fork to take a bite of his own. Tony reached to touch the reactor beneath his shirt and Pepper brushed his hands away, she fiddled with the top button of her suit and Tony suggested showing more cleavage if she didn't like being so buttoned up and Pepper only sighed.

A very very quiet part of the soldier felt a twinge of jealousy whenever Pepper would get a full laugh out of Tony, but he pushed it away every time. Jealousy over such a close friendship was ridiculous and unnecessary and the sort of thing that made James's throat taste bitter. He didn't remember past relationships, didn't know if he'd ever been in love but he remembered being jealous when other people could be open with their love and their desires and he had to hide.

Why he had hid, James wasn't really sure. But he remembered the jealousy twisting his stomach and the unfairness of it all making his chest too tight and he didn't want to feel that way ever when he looked at Tony and Pepper.

So James pushed it away and looked out the window instead, watched the clouds race by beneath the jet as it tore through the sky towards New York and when Tony finally finished up with Pepper and came to sit in the chair across from him, James looked up with a ready smile.

“Hey. All done working?”

“At least for right now. Plane rides are supposed to be relaxing, not about crunching numbers or ignoring the person I'm set to spend the evening with.” Tony stretched out in the chair and loosened his tie as he looked James over, lingering over the stretch of the red sweater over James's frankly ridiculous shoulders. Wow. “You--” seriously, wow. “-- you look great.”

“Duds this nice will make any fella look great.” James's heart flip flopped a little when Tony kept looking, and he touched at his empty left sleeve self consciously. “Sure was nice of the store people to send over one of those fancy pins for this side. I just cut the sleeves off all my other shirts.”

“You'll be two thumbs up in no time, so please don't hack at your new clothes.” Tony nudged his foot against James. “You'll need both sleeves eventually.”

James grinned and slid his foot further alongside Tony's shoe. “Sure thing, Tony.”

“You know,” Tony cocked his head and tried to pretend like playing footsy wasn't making him blush. He was over forty years old, damn it. “When you're relaxed you sound like you're from New York but like, New York from the movies. Saturday Night Fever, Bronx Tale, West Side Story. That style.”

“Oh yeah?” James raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

“It means--” Tony started to say something about smooth accents and flirty one-liners, about pretty boys with greasy hair and leather jackets and slick dance moves, but changed his mind because it was a little embarrassing to admit his short lived musical obsession had basically shaped his wet dreams for a good five years.

“It means you sort of sound old fashioned. Not in uh-- not in a bad way. My Auntie Peggy was around in the forties and whenever she tells war stories she copies how the boys talked back then and you remind me of it a little bit.”

James still looked confused and Tony waved him off with a self conscious laugh. “Never mind. It doesn't matter. Ignore all that and focus on not cutting up your sweater, yeah? I like the red on you.”

“That's why I picked it out.” James answered honestly, and Tony's dark eyes sparked in interest. “Knew you liked the red and figured if you were gonna dress up, maybe I should dress up a little too?”

“I don't know if I'm necessarily dressed up.” Tony picked at the hem of his suit jacket. “The monkey suit is standard outfit for CEO's of multi billion dollar--”

“Former CEO, darling!” Pepper called and Tony grinned, “ --former CEO's of multi billion dollar companies. I wouldn't be wearing this at all if I thought Pep would let me wear my sneakers and ACDC shirt. Only upside of this thing is that I can spill cotton candy on my shirt all day and then button the jacket and no one would know any better.”

“Cotton candy?” Oh James remembered that, he knew he did. Overly sweet and pastel colored, sugar-grit teeth and sticky fingers. Eating a big piece of it and then passing some over to St—to St--

--migraine. Instant and blinding--

--passing it over to someone who would get sick after eating only a few bites, so James would toss it in the trash and pretend to have a stomach ache too so they wouldn't feel bad.

Shit his head hurt, but James got a glimpse of dark blue eyes and a stubborn smile before the memory faded away to nothing, and when he opened his eyes again Tony was watching him closely.

“Where'd you go?” Tony asked quietly, and James whispered just as quietly, “I don't... don't really know. You said cotton candy and I got a flash of something... I dunno.”

“Things are coming back to you?”

“I'm not sure.” James leaned forward in the seat and pushed his hand into his hair, groaning under his breath as the migraine throbbed at his temples. “Just bits and pieces is all.”

“Makes sense.” Tony reached to touch James's shoulder but stopped himself at the last second. “I mean, you getting flashes of memories right now. I'm not exactly stable but this is probably the most stable you've been in a while?”

“At least a year.”

“Right.” Again, Tony reached out to try and touch and comfort, and again he let his hand drop away. James hadn't wanted to be touched right away the last time he'd had a hard time, he probably didn't want it now. “Repressed memories have a nasty habit of showing up right when we think we're moving on, life gets low stress and suddenly our dreams get stressful. It happens.”

“Yeah? You real familiar with it?” James tried to slow his breathing down, purposefully inhaling and then forcefully exhaling until the extra oxygen erased the sparks behind his eyes. “Why's that?”

“I'm the king of repressing--”

“Christ, my head hurts. Tony, will you c'mere and sit by me?”

“--memories.” Tony waved at one of the stewardesses and tapped at his own temple so she would bring him some headache medication, then slid out of his own seat and into the one next to James, rotating so their knees touched. “Better?”

“Thank you.” James's fingers tightened in his hair. “Why are you the king of repressing memories?”

“A whole list of reasons that would only make your headache worse.” Tony hesitated, hesitated, hesitated, then finally tried to untangle James's fingers, loosening the digits one by one until James relented and relaxed, clasping Tony's hand warm in his own. “...better?”

“Thank you.” James said again, instantly feeling better now that he was holding tight to Tony instead of pulling at his own hair, the migraine easing as he quit chasing the thought about cotton candy and forced himself back to the moment. “Sorry. Trying to force the memories--”

“--gives you a headache.” Tony finished and James smiled the tiniest bit cos Tony was completing his sentences just like Pepper did. “Yeah been there, done that.”

“Don't wanna ruin tonight by having a headache.” James muttered apologetically. “Sorry, Tony.”

“Tonight hasn't even started.” Tony waved the apology off, squeezed at James's hand and then let go. “Don't worry about it. We'll both have headaches by the time we get through the noise and crowds at the Expo, it's fine.”

“Okay.” James sort of hated that Tony had let go of his hand, but he didn't comment, only smoothed his hair back where it'd come free from the messy bun and cleared his throat. “How far out are we?”

“About an hour.” Tony didn't go back to his own chair, and James nudged at his knee gratefully. “How much news do you watch, James?”

“Um.” James blinked, thrown by the abrupt topic change. “None?”

“None.” Tony repeated. “At all?”

“Don't watch TV unless you're making me watch some god-awful movie.” James admitted and Tony's smile flashed quick and pleased. “Why?”

“I've been on the news a lot lately.” Tony hedged. “Just uh-- just curious if you'd seen anything I needed to explain or apologize for maybe?”

“Apologize?”

“Like if you learned about my weird sunglasses collection or that I eat everything with a three tined fork instead of a four tined like a normal person.” Tony suggested, and James's shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “The press knows a lot about me and you don't really know much about me so...”

He let the sentence trail off, watching closely for anything like recognition on James's face. The downside of a migraine of course, was that it hurt to even breathe. The upside of a migraine was that it was impossible to hide even the smallest reactions when your head felt like it might explode and Tony didn't really want to use it as a way to get a glimpse at James's thoughts, but he did it anyway because he wanted to know.

Truth be told, Tony was starting to wonder just how long he could keep Iron Man quiet from James before it slid from 'need to know basis' towards 'you were lying to me' accusations. If James hadn't figured out that Tony was the same Tony Stark that was also Iron Man, Tony didn't really want to say anything. But if James had figured it out and was just staying quiet for privacy's sake... well Tony didn't want to let it go too long just in case the soldier started to think Tony was leaving him out of things.

So Tony asked again, “Heard anything about me lately?”

“Everything I want to know about you I learn when we're together like this.” James answered, and with a smile that had no business being both shy and almost unbearably hopeful, “And I like all of it so far.”

Tony flushed a surprised pink, and up near the front of the plane, Pepper just rolled her eyes when she caught it.

Idiot boys practically in love.

Sheesh.

***************

“I've had a lot of people ask me where the dancers are this time around.” Tony stood up on stage in front of the thousands of people who had come to the Expo tonight, alone except for the old fashioned microphone he held in one hand. “I know, I know, you were hoping for more explosions, more fireworks, definitely some more bikinis and high kicks, right?”

The crowd tittered in agreement and Tony's mouth ticked up in a quick smile. “Yeah, we all love that, we all love science when it’s accompanied by pretty girls and loud music. Here's the thing about science though. Science isn't always big leap forward in technology, it's not always flashy designs and world changing breakthroughs and Nobel prizes. Most of the time science is quiet.”

Appropriately, Tony paused for a breath and the audience held theirs in anticipation.

“Most of the time science is still.” he said even softer, and the crowd edged forward with wide eyes, sure that this was all just build up to something incredible. “Most of the time science is one little adjustment that somehow changes life as we know it and maybe not even as we know it, but changes life as one person knows it and sometimes, that's enough.”

Tony held up the microphone and the cameras zoomed in on it. “This is the same microphone my Dad used at the World's Fair Expo back in World War II. Well--” another one of those quick smiles. “--it's not exactly the same microphone, but it's an exact working replica with exactly the sort of tech upgrades you would expect from Stark Industries. Why does that matter, though? Why do any of you care about me getting weirdly sentimental about a copy of a microphone my Dad once spit all over?”

The audience laughed again and Tony swallowed past the lump in his throat. “It matters because it's only in looking to the past that we find answers for our future. What were once ground breaking theories are today the building blocks our of standard operations. All the pieces that make up my next generation Stark phone started out in something as simple as this mic right here.”

Tony held up the microphone again. “Seventy years ago, my dad stood on a stage just like this one and bragged about a flying car that only got a few inches off the ground. What he considered a spectacular failure was actually the inspiration for my Stark repulsor engines that will revolutionize the fuel industry and put an end to oil spills and dumps in the most fragile parts of our eco systems.”

“The past teaches us how to move forward, what steps to avoid and which leaps to take and we can't forget that. That's why I re-started the Expo-- learning from looking back before we move forward and that's what science is about.”

A smattering of applause and Tony waited until it died down. “Science isn't always flashy.” He said again. “Most of the time it's quiet. But even the quiet discoveries matter, whether they become something that changes the world later on, or never do anything more significant than what this microphone does right here--”

Tony paused, smiled, “--connects us to people we love.”

The lights dimmed and Tony set the modified microphone down on the stage, pressed a few buttons and stepped away as it split into pieces and assembled itself into something of a tripod. The microphone-turned-robot rotated its speaker to face the audience, a separate projector unhinged from the back and--

--”Hey Ma.” A young soldier clearly somewhere sandy, waving at the audience from the holographic screen the microphone had projected above the crowd. “I hope you're having a good time out there tonight, I love you and I miss you and I'll be home soon.”

“This message is for my brother!” Another soldier head to toe in combat gear, grinning into the camera. “Mr. Stark said he'd get you a ticket to the Expo tonight so I hope you showed up! This message is coming to you from way the fuck over in Sand Dune Country and I love you, but I'm glad you're home safe with my new niece-y instead of slogging through this mess with me. Be home soon!”

The messages kept rolling, and one by one different people in the audience burst into tear and cheers as they saw their deployed loved one up on the screen for a surprise message. It had taken months to coordinate-- sending out Stark phones to the soldiers to submit a video, getting tickets to their family and making sure they had a ride to the Expo and a place to stay-- months to coordinate, and Tony stood back behind the curtain of the stage and listened to them play as he looked down at the picture of him and the soldier in the convoy in Afghanistan.

Despite Tony's only half serious warning to the soldier back then, the picture had been promptly posted on social media and now Tony was grateful for it. Three minutes after the picture had been taken the convoy had been attacked and all those young people-- all those kids had been lost.

“Hey Mom, Dad. Sorry I missed your anniversary but I'll be back for Christmas and will make it up in hugs then!”

Tony closed his phone and cleared his throat as the audience burst into shouts when a local boy from Flushing popped up on the screen with his message. Speech was done, crowd was appropriately wowed and now he had a sort of date with James to get back to.

It wasn’t the time to get maudlin and teary, not tonight.

“Tony.” Pepper looked immensely proud, and Tony tore his eyes away from the almost blinding smile on James's face to accept a kiss from her. “Well done. I really thought you were going to bring out the dancers again, and I'm so glad you didn't.”

“It pains me to admit that no science has been accomplished when booty shorts and high heels were in the general vicinity.” Tony said faux seriously. “The dancers were a necessary sacrifice for the moment.”

“Well I appreciate it.” Pepper chuckled and kissed him one more time. “I have to network since apparently everyone wants to talk to the new CEO--”

“--and I have cotton candy to buy and experiment booths to check out.” Tony finished, cutting Pepper off before she could suggest he go along with her. “Toodle-oo and all that. Have fun.”

The moment Pepper disappeared into the crowd, Tony turned back to James, hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels as he asked, “So. How did I do? Can I color you impressed?”

“You can color me whatever you want, Tony.” James grinned and Tony barked a surprised laugh at the blatant flirting. “Was a good speech, but I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard you really talk about your dad. Were you and him close?”

“Not even a little bit.” Tony shook his head, then motioned for James to follow him to the outer paths of the Expo so they could walk the perimeter where it was a little quieter. “He was always busy working and I was always busy being as obnoxious as possible. He and Ma were gone before I was old enough to realize what I was missing out on so--” Tony shrugged like the memory of that last night with his parents still didn't hurt like a knife in his heart. “--anyway. This whole Expo was his idea, he brought it back in the seventies, always wanted to do it again so I thought now was as good a time as any.”

“Huh.” James looked down at where their hands were nearly touching as they walked, wondering if he could just grab Tony's hand and hold it for a little bit, wondering if that was okay outside of either of them having a panic attack.“You said something about a flying car?”

“Back in the forties, my Dad wanted to show off this flying car idea, so he brought it to the Worlds Fair.” Tony flashed a peace sign at a girl when she squealed and pointed at him in excitement. “Howard's always considered it his great embarrassment, to have created something that failed in the public eye but you know-- it's been seventy something years and we still haven't gotten any closer to flying cars? Even his failure was a good century ahead of it's time.”

“Your Dad's name was Howard? Howard Stark?” That sounded familiar in some empty aching way, but James forgot about it when he stopped in front of what looked like an old timey war advertisement for the draft, pictures in black and white of soldiers marching off in neat lines. It made his head hurt the same way memories always did and he blinked at the display a few times. “What's this?”

“Traditionally the World's Fair and Expo were events to drum up that All American spirit.” Tony tapped the vintage posters and mocked one of the old radio voices, “Look at how great our country is doing with these advancements! Look how much money we have to put this show on! Don't you feel patriotic? Don't wait for the draft, real American men sign up willingly for their country!”

“People could sign up for the army right here at the fair.” Ouch that drummed at the back of James's mind, and when he caught a flash of shaggy blonde hair out of the corner of his eye, the drumming got worse. “They did that?”

“All the time.” Tony scoffed like he couldn't believe it. “Just boys too, kids really. Came for the party, left for the cause. Mind boggling. We don't do that here, no way. I'd never ask people to show up for cotton candy and then hope they join the war effort, that's nuts. But they did back in the day and the boys that went off to war-- “

He sighed out loud. “Well you know. They don't always come back whole. So this is a nice reference to days gone by, little bit of nostalgia, a way to remember them I guess. Besides, America's greatest hero signed up for the war effort at one of these things, it would be a shame to just ignore it I think.”

“Huh.” James didn't want another headache like the one he'd had on the plane so he stepped away from the Army display and towards a cotton candy vendor. “Time for sweets?”

“Oh, it is always time for sweets.”

*******************

It was easy to get lost in the Expo, easy and more fun than either man had had in ages wandering from booth to booth and taking the circular paths between the connected sections to sample all the different foods, resting on the grass and beneath the planted trees when their feet got tired, browsing through the vendors shops and trying their hand at any scientific demonstration that took volunteers.

James was fascinated by everything from the wireless electronics to the slime that exploded all over them when he added too much of whatever was in the purple beaker. The soldier laughed until he nearly choked seeing Tony with neon green slime in his perfectly combed hair, and was still laughing when Tony dragged him to a demonstration that had a ball and a fancy light and zapped James with enough electricity to make his scruff stand right up on his chin.

“I love roller coasters!” James announced at one point because somehow he knew that was true but Tony begged off the ride with a hand over his arc reactor an apologetic smile so instead they climbed into one of the rowboats at the man made lake and rowed across it to see all the different water experiments-- artificial plant life that would help sustain life in otherwise barren bodies of water, hybrid fish that grew bigger than their predecessors but took less time to mature for a faster food source, personal purification processes that only needed a mild current to activate the device and provide clean drinking water.

After the lake was a sphere that simulated life on a distant planet and James took one look at it and shook his head, digging his feet in figuratively and literally as Tony tugged at his arm and pleaded, “Don't you want to know what it would be like to live on Mars!?” and retorting, “Tony, m'still trying to figure out Earth!”

A display that required goggles and gloves as scientists replicated the creation of new elements, some that synthesized with nothing more than a quiet hiss, some that exploded loud enough to make James grab Tony and turn around, trying to shield the smaller brunette with his body. Tony laughed at him then, laughed and then checked that James was okay and not triggered by it, laughed and then blushed a little when James's arm lingered at his waist just a second longer than necessary.

“Elements are the building blocks of the universe.” James read on a sign after reluctantly letting Tony go. “So this is what everything is made of.”

“Everything.” Tony confirmed.

“So how do they make new ones?”

“Apparently with a bang.” Tony said wryly and James grinned sheepishly.

“Have you made one in that fancy lab?”

“I've never even tried.” Tony admitted after a minute of thought. “I sort of remember Dad talking about making a new one ages ago, he had designs and diagrams for it but I must have only been eight or nine, I barely remember it. I bet his notes are around somewhere in all the boxes Pepper won't let me throw away.”

“Why haven't you tried?” James looked back at the display when another element went bang! and someone else screamed. “Bet you're smart enough to do it.”

“I'm smart enough.” Tony agreed, wrinkling his nose into a smile when James huffed at him teasingly. “But I've been busy, got all these other projects going on and all of them seem more important than creating new building blocks for the universe. That's like designing a new Lego. It's great and all, but who cares? There’s enough of them out there, why do we need another?”

“Lego.” James repeated. “What--”

“I've got millions of them in storage at Malibu, we'll pull them out one day and I'll show you why I hold the MIT record for fastest recorded time building an entire Death Star model.”

“Half those words don't mean anything to me, Tony.” James admitted, tone just a little clipped in frustration. “Sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize for what you're missing.” Tony waved him off and James pointed out, “Happy said that exact same thing to me.”

“He's said the exact same thing to me many times.” They passed a knife display, and Tony pointed one out to James that was somehow even fancier than the one in the store had been. “Except when I black out drunk, then he yells at me for what I miss. He's right to do it, too. How about that knife? You like that one?”

“Too pretty to kill someone with.” James said bluntly, and when Tony's jaw dropped open in shock, he apologized, “Ah hell, sorry. Dunno why I said that.”

“Christ you're intense.” Tony only laughed though, and pushed James on from the display. “Maybe we don't say things like that in the middle of a crowd. Maybe we just get some more cotton candy.”

“Probably a good idea.” James felt foolish for blurting out the killing thing, foolish and embarrassed as hell but it was so easy to speak his thoughts around Tony, that one had just... slipped out.

Usually James thought about what he wanted to say, turned it over in his mind until he felt like it sounded normal, weighed his words and modulated his tone and then spoke, but he didn't have to do that with Tony. He didn't even have to pretend to be okay around Tony, he could just be James and all the broken pieces and panic attacks and saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and then maybe sometimes saying the wrong thing at the right time cos Tony would smile up at him sort of like he was doing right now--

--oh shit, he hadn't been listening.

“Lost you for a minute.” Tony never said it like he was judging James, only ever like he knew what it was like to get lost in his head and maybe be a little afraid of never finding his way out again. “Where'd you go?”

“Was thinkin' bout ya.” The words slipped out soft and a little lyrical, the voice in James's head that Tony said sounded Brooklyn speaking up enough to be smooth and charming. “How it's um-- how it's so easy to be with you.”

“Yeah, I'm a real catch.” Tony sassed immediately, but his smile was just for James when he continued, “You're easy to be around too. Not what I expected when I invaded your booth at the diner for the sake of awkward conversation and what definitely sounded like a proposition.”

“Were you propositionin' me, sugar?” James asked, low and coaxing and surprising because he hadn't meant to call Tony sugar, hadn't meant to turn the conversation this way but now Tony was staring up at him with stars in his eyes and sort of leaning forward and hell, James didn't remember much of anything at all but he knew what this moment meant so he leaned forward too and--

“Oh Jesus, not right here.” Tony jerked back a step, both hands up and expression going guarded even as he tried to laugh the moment off. “No, um-- no. That's not--”

Shit. “Shit, sorry.” James backed up too, face flaming and heart clenching in his chest. “Sorry, Tony I just thought-- I mean you were lookin' at me like that and I thought you wanted--”

“No, you don't have to say sorry, that's not your fault, I should have--” Tony looked like he was sort of panicking, a hand at his chest and another held up so James wouldn't get closer. “Damn it. This-- this just got really awkward.”

“Tony, I'm sorry.”

“Nope. My fault for making you think--” Tony's throat jerked as he swallowed. Hello insecurities from twenty fives years in the closet. “-- it's fine, James. It's fine. Let's just keep walking. There's still a lot to see and I want you to see it all so let's just--” another hard swallow. “Let's just keep walking.”

“Um. Sure.” James fell back into step next to Tony, and after a minute the brunette started talking again, chattering about whatever they were passing, telling a story about something he and Rhodey did one time or another, and after another few minutes James relaxed enough to even laugh a little at the stories.

But the moment from before was gone, the easy smiles and the quick laughter, the way their hands had brushed once, twice, three times as they wandered the paths.

That moment was gone and James felt it's absence like a slap in the face.

He really couldn't trust his mind could he? Not even in this, not even when he was one hundred percent sure Tony had wanted a kiss.

Couldn't trust his mind even with things that should come natural, cos findin’ a fella and wanting to kiss him-- that should come real natural right?

....Right?

Christ, he was broken.

****************

“Ms. Potts, you asked me to find as much information as possible on James?” Natalie found Pepper out on the balcony of the hotel room, overlooking the lights of the Expo in the adjoining field. “I'm afraid I wasn't able to find much.”

“Alright then.” Pepper was halfway through her first drink of the night, weary lines creased at the corner of her eyes. “Tell me what you found anyway.”

“The diner where Mr. Stark and James met was apparently an every day spot for James.” Natalie rattled off the information she'd learned in short, quick sentences. “Waitresses say he was polite but quiet. He glared at anyone who messed with them so they always let him stay longer than anyone else. They identified the shelter down the block as one where James slept, I spoke to the church folk who run the shelter and they said he was quiet and polite as well. Has no or little memories of anything past a year ago, has never showed any signs of violence or even a temper and they have no idea what happened to his arm beyond knowing he used to be a soldier.”

“Okay well.” Pepper pursed her lips and blew out a breath. “Anyone that would keep waitresses from being harassed and could survive a year in a shelter without losing their temper couldn't be all that bad. Why do you look so worried about him?”

“Not worried.” Natalie smoothed the anxious from her expression. The news about James was so opposite of who she knew 'James' was that it was giving her a headache, but she ignored it to smile at her employer. “Not worried at all, Ms. Potts. Simply wondering if we should add James to the insurance plan if he's going to spend time with Mr. Stark in the lab or even traveling with us.”

“Of course, that's an excellent idea, see that it gets done.”

“Yes, Ms. Potts. Will there be anything else?”

“Have you booked our flights to Monaco?” Pepper poured herself a second drink and picked up her phone to scroll through the dozens of congratulatory emails still rolling in from various shareholders and board members. “Add a seat for James, I think he will most likely be going along with Tony anywhere at this point.”

��Do you think...” Natalie hesitated. “Are they involved?”

“Would that offend you in any way, Natalie?” Pepper arched a graceful eyebrow towards her new assistant. “Because if so, you are welcome to tell me why and then to pack your things and leave immediately because I won't tolerate--”

“Ms. Potts.” Natalie held her hand up and shook her head. “I was simply wondering for reasons of hotel rooms. I am the last person to have any sort of issue with whether or not Mr. Stark prefers his dates as blessed as I am--” a pat at her chest and Pepper snorted a laugh. “--or as blessed as James is.”

Pepper laughed even harder, “Well then, by all means book us four rooms. Two adjoining for you and I, two adjoining for Tony and James. I'm not sure if they will share or not and to be honest, I'd rather not know. I like to think as CEO my days of knowing the status of Tony's bed partners are behind me.”

“Of course, Ms. Potts.” Natalie smiled. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“'You too Natalie, thank you.”

Pepper went back to sipping at her drink and idly reading emails and when the exhaustion of the day finally caught up to her, she turned in for the night. Her calendar was so full these days and she was so tired and oh Lord, the sun would be up in just a few hours and she’d have to start another day all over again...

... ...

...On the other side of the world the sun was coming up, brilliant and beautiful over the skyline of Monaco and at the international airport, it was time for a shift change as the night workers called their goodbyes and switched spots with the early morning crew.

The young man at the counter had only barely clocked in when the doors opened and a line of international passengers flooded the terminals. Checking passports was easy enough so long as the passengers had their papers in order, and he went through two dozen entries before any one passport caught his eye and tripped the computer's marker.

“Oh, this should just take a second to double check, sorry about that Mr.--” he paused when he saw the myriad of tattoos on the man, the bedraggled black and white hair, gold teeth glinting back at him. “Uh, is it Vanko? What um-- what brings you to Monaco?”

“I'm working at the Grand Prix.” came the gravelly answer, a smile that was somehow savage stretching the man's lips. “Hoping to catch up with an old friend.”

“Oh.” the computer okay'ed the passport, so the attendant handed it back quickly. “Well um-- welcome to Monaco. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“I plan to.”

*****************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

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@quietgayguy @bluedreamdino @akimi-youngblood @blackstar1602 @dixiehellcat @travellover1245 @capnstarkey @the-awkward-teenaged-one @thanossucks @peteryoulittleshit @tony-and-steeeb @striving-artist @roe-sesandthorns @coolsidedpillow @i-am-worth-it-25 @firelightmystic @maligatorthealigator @simsccsol @a-tardis-in-221b @happyendingrequired @everygoodoneistaken11 @pootie-and-the-snoots @megahuffledor @xkissmeimirishx @crystalskrull @hazelbeatsturtle @wecollectnightmares @endrega23 @saganarojanaolt @the-crazy-house @ravynfyre @yomama-umbridge @lovely--tony @gayspacesprinkles @elliotkaingrey @warmachinesocks @glitternotgold73

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @justaniche

#ncts fics #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #pepper potts #natasha romanov

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dailydoseofserotonin · 3 years

Text

A New Day, A New Dawn, A New Life

Words: 1,806

Beta: @bambii-brambles

Notes: Alternate Universe. Not really any ships, but some are implied, No Quirks but some people do have abilities

Warnings: Nothing besides Bakugo's language

"Report to your stations immediately. This is not a drill. We are under attack. We are under attack!"

The sound of gunfire and explosions ring out loudly as two boys join hands. Just outside, heroes known as the World's Avengers, are in the process of infiltrating a LOV base in Sokovia.

Making her way towards the base, Creati crashes against a forcefield, the impact taking her completely by surprised. "Shit!"

"Language!" Reprimands another voice, Lemillion, as he takes down armed men. "Hatsume, what's the view from upstairs?"

"The central building is protected by some kind of energy shield. Imasuji's technology is well beyond any other LOV base we've taken"

Landing between several men, a blonde man swings his hammer taking out several of them. This is ChargeBolt. "Sero's scepter must be here. Imasuji couldn't mount this defense without it. At long last"

Several feet away another blonde takes out more men. This one is known as DynaMight. Locking his legs around one of the soldiers, he shifts his weight and swings the man off his feet, effectively knocking him unconscious. "At long last” is lasting a little long, idiots"

Taking cover behind a tree, a duo colored hair man fires multiple arrows. "Yeah. I think we lost the element of surprise"

"Wait a second. No one else is going to deal with the fact that Mirio just said "language?"

"I know" He sighs as he throws his bike at some soldiers driving up in their truck. "It just slipped out"

Inside the base, Imasuji made his way down towards the science lab. "Who gave the order to attack?"

Following behind him, one of his men answers. "Goto Imasuji, it's the Avengers."

"They landed in the far woods, the perimeter guard panicked."

Cursing under his breath, he turned to the scientist, Kyudai Garaki. "They have to be after the scepter." He then turns back to address one of his men. "Can we hold them?"

"They’re the Avengers!"

Clicking his tongue, he turns away. "Deploy the rest of the tanks."

"Yes, sir."

"Concentrate fire on the weak ones. A hit can make them close ranks." He ordered. As soon as they filed out, he turns his attention back on the scientist. "Everything we've accomplished... But we're on the verge of our greatest breakthrough."

"Then let's show them what we've accomplished. Send out the twins." He says. There's a certain mad gleam in his eyes.

"It's too soon."

"It's what they signed up for."

Shaking his head, Imasuji turns away. "My men can hold them." With that said, he makes his way towards the door. Taking the stairs he makes his way to where he knows his men are gathered. Entering the room, he takes a quick survey of the room's occupants, spying the aforementioned twins in the corner.

Once he's in the middle of the room and has their attention, he clears his throat. "We will not yield. They sent their circus freaks to test us. We will send them back in bags. No surrender!"

"No surrender!" They echo.

Quietly, so as to not draw any attention to himself, he turns to Garaki behind and whispers. "I am going to surrender. You will delete everything. If we give the heroes the weapons, they may not look too far into what we've been--"

"The twins." Garaki interrupts.

"They are not ready to take on--"

"No, no. I mean... " He points to where said twins were standing, but are now gone. "Twins."

Back outside, Shoto continues to take out armed men. Just as he goes to fire another shot, lined perfectly at the enemy's bunker, his arrow is snatched right out of the air the minute he releases it. "What the.. " Frowning, he repeats the motion and fires another shot only for the same thing to happen again, however this time a teenage boy saunters onto the field, his arrow in hand. He then winks and before he knows it he's knocked on his back, the wind successfully knocked out of him.

Smirking, the boy looks down at him as he goes by. "You didn't see that coming?" He taunts and then speeds off once more as Shoto quickly rights himself to fire another shot at him.

Rocked from the hit and the boy's sudden emergence, he doesn't see the enemy fire coming until it's too late.

"Peppermint!" Off to the side, Bakugo quickly runs over as his friend goes down.

Not too far from them, Mirio also gets knocked flat by the same speedster. "We have an enhanced in the field." He relays to the others, a bit dazed.

"Shoto's hit!" Bakugo yells, dragging him away from the bunker firing at them. "Somebody want to deal with that damn bunker?" Immediately after he voices this, a hulking mass of muscles barrels into said bunker, taking it out. "Fucking thanks"

As Mirio exchanges blows with the soldiers, he glances in the general direction to where he knows Creati is. "Momo, we really need to get inside."

"I'm closing in." She says, engaged with the enemy. "Hatsume, am I...closing in? Do you see a power source for that shield?"

"There's a particle wave below the north tower."

"Great, I wanna poke it with something." As he says this he fires at the forcefield, successfully bringing it down. "Drawbridge is down, people."

"The enhanced?" Kaminari questions as he lands besides Mirio, his landing creating a small seismic event that knocks nearby soldiers off their feet.

"He's a blur. All the new player's we've faced, I've never seen this. In fact, I still haven't."

"Shoto's hit pretty bad. Fuck, we're gonna need evac." Bakugo relays over the comms.

"I can get Todoroki to the jet. The sooner we're gone the better. You and Momo secure the scepter." Says Kaminari.

As they converse, reinforcements make their way closer towards them.

"Copy that"

Gesturing towards the incoming soldiers, he cocks his head. "It looks like they're lining up."

Shrugging his shoulders, he glances their way. "Well, they're excited."

Twirling his hammer around, Kaminari jumps into the air then slams it down on Mirio's shield with his hammer. The resulting wave from the joint attack knocks the soldiers off their feet and destroys in the incoming tank.

Twirling his hammer once more, he addresses Mirio. "Find the scepter." He says as he flies off.

"And for gosh sake, watch your language!"

Sighing, he looks to his feet. "That's not going away anytime soon."

Entering the LOV base, Momo makes her way through as soldiers immediately begin firing at her. "Please, stop, we can talk this through. As she says this, she knocks them out with explosives from her suit. "It was a good talk."

One of the men groans. "No it wasn't"

Typing away at his computer is Garaki. Clearly he's attempting to clean everything from the system before the heroes get to it, but he's intercepted by Momo who shoots him down.

Stepping out of her suit, she walks over to the computer the man was working at. "Sentry mode" She orders as she looks over the files on screen. "Okay, Hatsume. You know I want it all. Make sure you copy it to Ashido at HQ."

"We're locked down out here." Bakugo says, as he surveys their surroundings.

"Then get to Kirishima, time for a lullaby." Mirio answers.

Back inside the base, Momo continues looking around the room. "I know you're hiding more than files. Hey, H, give me an IR scan of the room, real quick."

"The wall to your left...I'm reading steel reinforcement... and an air current."

She makes her way over towards the wall, mumbling to herself as she goes. "Please be a secret door, please be a secret door, please be a secret door…" She pushes and the wall opens up. "Yay!"

Back outside, Bakugo makes his way towards Red Riot. "Hey, shitty hair. The sun's getting real fucking low."

He scowls at him as Bakugo kneels in front of him and puts out his hand. He regards his hand warily, before reaching out to touch it. Bakugo then begins to stroke his palm slowly, smirking a bit as he calms down.

Pulling his hand away, he stumbles as he begins to shift back into Kirishima. Still smirking, Bakugo watches as he stumbles away.

Inside the base, Mirio encounters Imasuji. "Imasuji Goto. LOV's number one thug."

"Technically, I'm a thug for HPSC" He answers back with a smirk.

"Well then technically you're unemployed. Where's Sero's scepter?"

"Don't worry, I know when I'm beat. You'll mention how I cooperated, I hope." As he speaks, his eyes leaves Mirio's form for a second to something behind him before locking back unto him.

"I'll put it right under illegal human experimentation" He says, unaware of the approaching figure behind him. "How many are there?" He's then blasted into the wall. Scrambling to his feet, his eyes lock unto the boy's own as he quickly leaves, sealing the door shut behind him. "We have a second enhanced. Male. Do not engage."

"You'll have to be faster than--" He's cut off as he's knocked out by Mirio's shield.

"And I got Imasuji."

"Yeah, I got... something bigger." Inside the hidden room, she's found a variety of technology, as well as recovered artifacts from the Battle of New York, including a gigantic Nomu leviathan and some of it's scrapped armor. She then spots the scepter. "Kaminari, I got eyes on the prize."

The same figure who attacked Mirio from before creeps up behind Momo. As soon as he gets close to her, he raises his hand to her head and curls his fingers, releasing a sort of energy that creeps into Momo's mind, turning her irises red briefly. Quickly he steps away.

Blinking rapidly, Momo shakes her head as if to clear her mind. When she glances up once more, the corpse suddenly comes to life and lunges at her. Flinching, she squeezes her eyes shut in reflex. After a few seconds, she opens them again to find her friends laid out before her, dead. Walking closer towards their corpse, she kneels beside Mirio, horror frozen upon his dead face. Suddenly, as if out of a horror film, he grabs her wrist and they lock gazes. "You… could've.. saved us.." Turning away from his body, she looks up to see Nomu's invading Earth, but it all melts away as she's snapped back into reality.

Unbeknownst to her, off to the side are the twins, who watch as she calls her armor towards her to surround her fist.

Stepping forward to stop her, the taller of the two is stopped as his brother raises his hand against his chest. "We're just gonna let them take it?" He questions, frustrated.

Not answering, the brother simply smiles to himself as Momo takes the scepter.

To be continued…

#midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bhna deku #kirishima ejirou #momo yaoyorozu #mirio toogata #kaminari denki #shinso hitoshi #todoroki shōto #shindo yo #overhaul

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