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franklyshipping · 4 years

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Punishment For Mutiny ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

HEEEERE WE GO WITH ANOTHER WONDERFUL, AWESOME ANON PROMPT WITH OUR FAVE EGOTISTIC WRITER AND OUR FAVOURITE THICC PIRATE CAPTAIN! LET’S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @the-authler

The Author was absolutely hysterical, and honestly if I was seeing what he was seeing, I probably would be too, even though the consequences of laughing in the face of Captain Magnum would turn out to be quite detrimental indeed. Although in fairness, the captain did look rather hilarious. He was soaked from head to foot, his hair sticking up every which way, and his face had gone pink from his annoyance as he glared at the cackling Author, who was practically bent double with mirth. You see, the Author had done something rather mischievous, and was very pleased with the outcome. He may have potentially narrated for Magnum’s ship to steer itself into a storm, thus resulting in the Captain getting soaked and tangled in seaweed and barnacles, simply because the Author was bored and thought it would be the most amusing prank.

Of course, the Author was very careful to make sure neither the Captain, his crew or ship sustained any harm from the stormy conditions, since the prank was all out of fun and playfulness. Well, from the Author’s perspective. From Magnum’s, it was more a source of extreme irritation.

‘YE DARE LAUGH AT ME AFTER WHAT YE JUST DID?! THERE AIN’T ONE PLACE ON ME SHIP OR ON ME THAT SEAWEED HASN’T GOTTEN TANGLED IN!’

The Author just kept on laughing, grinning brightly with arrogant satisfaction as he replied cheekily.

‘Ohoho dear, has it gotten into all your nooks and crannies Captain?’

He winked at Magnum, and the Captain growled under his breath, clenching his fists.

‘Yer not even sorry are ye?!’

The Author grinned wider as he snorted through his laughter, eyes twinkling happily as he replied.

‘No my dear Captain, frankly this is the highlight of my week!’

The Author barked out yet another laugh….and it made Magnum snap. He surged forwards and lifted the Author up by the collar of his shirt as he snarled.

‘I’LL GIVE YE SOMETHIN’ TO LAUGH ABOUT!’

The Author’s eyes went wide as he struggled, feeling rather embarrassed at being picked up like a damn doll! He frantically tried batting at Magnum’s arms, exclaiming indignantly.

‘Hey! You put me down or I’ll make you put me dow-AGH!’

Magnum snickered, interrupting the Author’s demand by dropping him on the couch, before crawling and lying on him, pinning him with his body as he sneered amusedly.

‘Ye were sayin’?’

The Author glared up at Magnum, squirming as he spluttered, feeling water soaking into his clothes.

‘You are getting me soaking wet!’

‘And whose fault is it that I’m wet?!’

‘Magnum I am warning you! Let me up! Don’t make me narrate you!’

Mangum snorted at the threat, and replied in a low, sinister voice.

‘Ohhh you’ll narrate me will ye? And how will ye do that when yer too busy laughin’ yer head off?’

For a moment the Author was confused….until he felt ten strong fingers dig mercilessly and determinedly into his stomach. Then he understood. He let out a howl before descending into laughter, already desperate as he hit out at Magnum’s broad shoulders.

‘FUHUCK-STAHAHAP YOHOU BAHASTARD STAHAHAP!’

Magnum snickered at how fast the Author was falling apart at the tickling, and kept up the digging onslaught at his belly as he growled.

‘Ohoho we’re juuust getting’ started! Ye may be powerful an’ magical, but none o’ that matters when yer bein’ tickled does it? Ticklin’ just makes ye aaaall weak doesn’t it?’

The Author flushed red as he thrashed, getting more embarrassed and humiliated by the second because of how every word of Magnum’s was oh so true. The Author couldn’t stand the teasing.

‘NAHAHA SHUHUHUT IHIHIT!’

Magnum chuckled in amusement, before deciding to dig into the sides of the Author’s toned stomach. The previously arrogant prankster was a mess of cackles as he threw his head back amidst his mirth, and the smug Captain just kept on taunting.

‘Awww what? Can’t ye handle the flustery truth? Makes sense, it’s always the arrogant ones who’re the most sensitive.’

The Author was bright red in the face and had his eyes squeezed shut, his hands now flapping about haphazardly because now he knew there was no way he could get the eight foot tall Captain off of him. He tried to retort in a way that was strong, but in reality it was rather adorable.

‘YOHOHOU WOHON’T GEHEHET AHAWAY WITH THIHIHIS!’

Magnum let out a booming laugh.

‘Ihi’m pretty sure I already have, given that yer at me mercy and all.’

Magnum smirked, and decided to move his hands down to playfully give the Author’s thighs a little squeeze, making the man yelp and yip through a flustered giggle fit.

‘I-Ihihihi aham nahahat! Ihihi cahahan naharrate mysehelf ohout ohof anythihing!’

The Author retorted, trying once again to sound tough….but once again, Magnum only found his ticklish victim all the more adorable for his attempts to sound strong. At the Author’s statement, Magnum raise an amused eyebrow…..and gleefully decided to challenge his victim.

‘Can ye indeed? Well go on then, narrate yourself away!’

The Author spluttered, in a state of constant giggling from Magnum’s constant pokey assault on his thighs….which distracted him so much that he couldn’t focus enough to channel his powers for even a second. He pushed at Magnum’s chest as he wailed.

‘S-Stohohohop wihith the d-dahahamn pohoking!’

‘Why should I? Ye always are on about how powerful ye are, surely a couple pokes won’t defeat ye?’

Magnum retorted matter-of-factly, which served to make the Author whine through his giggles. And to think he’d felt humiliated before.

‘I-Ihihihit’s nahahat fahair! Ihihi c-cahan’t fohohocus!’

Magnum snickered in amusement, before deciding to squeeze and squish the Author’s thighs as he replied nonchalantly.

‘Welp, that sounds like yer problem not mine.’

The Author squealed and hid his face in his hands, his laughter reaching a rare higher pitch as he cried out in his ticklish desperation.

‘YOHOHOHOU’RE AHAHA BAHAHASTAHARD!!’

Magnum chuckled, still squeezing the Author’s thighs with his gargantuan hands as he shook his head with amusement.

‘Yer really not helpin’ yerself, the ruder ye are the more ticklin’ yer gonna get y’know.’

Of course, all the Author could focus on was the intensity of the tickling, meaning that he could hardly think about having good manners when his nervous system was being attacked so evilly.

‘SCREHEHEHEW YOHOHOU!!’

Author threw his head back with laughter amidst his exclamation, and Magnum narrowed his eyes down at him. And when he saw the Author’s exposed neck…he saw an opportunity to create absolute torment. He dove in like an animal, raspberrying furiously amidst his teasy growl of a voice.

‘Ye wanna say that again?!’

The Author gasped, and Magnum was both taken aback and heavily amused when the Author let out a shrill scream and started babbling more wildly than Magnum had ever heard from him before. The Author was truly hysterical, and it was a satisfying sight to behold indeed.

‘AAAAHHHHHH-I’MSAHAHAHAHARRY!!! NOTTHERENOTTHEHEHEEERE!!!’

Though Magnum was very pleased at having reduced the Author to this sweet, extreme mirthful state, his kind heart spurred him to have mercy at the sound of the man’s screams. Though he did chuckle fondly down at the man as he reared up, watching the Author gasp for air as he hurriedly covered his neck with his hands.

‘Wehell, ye got yerself a real tickle spot there haven’t ye?’

The poor Author couldn’t meet the Captain’s gaze out of embarrassment, and ended up merely nodding as he rubbed his neck and mumbled.

‘M-Mhm….’

Magnum was amazed at how speechless and flustered the Author was, and found it so endearing that he almost didn’t know how to react! Who’d have thought it, the most arrogant man of the manor was also one of the cutest. Magnum sat up, bringing the Author with him and un-creasing his shirt as he replied jovially, as all pirate captains do.

‘Well, since ye apologised I think I can find it in me heart to forgive ye. Besides, it’s not like anybody was hurt now was it?’

The Author blinked in surprise at the swift forgiveness as he looked up at Magnum, before grinning bashfully and clearing his throat.

‘…..th-thank you….’

Magnum grinned, before standing up and offering the Author his hand.

‘I’ll even consider us bein’ friends if ye make me a hot cocoa.’

The Author smirked and snorted, before accepting Magnum’s hand as he replied.

‘I think I could stretch to that.’

And the Author indeed happily obliged the Captain’s request. In fact, he even went so far as to put a little narration on Magnum’s mug so that the cocoa within would both stay warm, and refill itself upon Magnum’s request. Indeed….that is what friends do.

WOOOO HOPE YOU ALL LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOOO LUV YOUS XX

#markiplier #markiplier egos #captain magnum #magnum #the author #author #sfw #prompt #platonic #ego fic #ego fanfic #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #luv these bois

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nightowlfandom · 5 years

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(REQUESTED) Laito Sakamaki- Left Alone

REQUEST FROM THE HANDY DANDY PROMPT LIST

So my main bitch @slasher-fanatic was my first request and may I just say I am not sorry for the work thats about to be given....that is all! THIS ISNT REALLY HEAVY SMUT AND I’m SORRRRRYYY. YOU WERE MY FIRST REQUEST AND I’M A LIL SHY BUT I’LL MAKE IT UP.

ANY WAYS CHECK HER OUT, SHE DOESN’T REALLY TAKE REQUESTS ANYMORE BUT SHE’S AN AMAZING MULTI FANDOM WRITER AND YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT WHAT SHE HAS ON THERE.

Leggo!

37- Am I making you nervous, Y/N

39- Just admit that you wanna fuck me...if you behave, I just might let you.

...

An empty room was the perfect excuse to catch up on some reading! You had just purchased the latest installment of your favorite book series and now it was finally time to sit down and relax.

You had already wasted your time trying to evade Ayato and his snide remarks. You had managed to get out of a “tea party” with Kanato, and you didn’t even bother to try and sound nice when it came to everyone else.

Everyone know how private you were. The only person who ever bothered to respect that was Yui, of course but that really didn’t stop everyone else. You really didn’t mind the fact that Yui liked to come around and just have a nice chat with you. Technically you were housemates, so you figured let the only other girl be your friend if you were gonna have a friend at all. Though Yui did get into trouble, you felt like you had to protect her.

Of course you had nothing against the brothers...not too much anyways. Except maybe one certain vampire in particular.

But you weren’t going to waste your alone time on thinking about how nice it would be to push Laito off a bridge.

“Finally, some alone time!” you whispered to yourself. You got comfortable on one of the chairs in the empty room and began reading. You could already feel the effects of such phenomenal literature making its way through your head, it was almost enough to not realize the window was slightly ajar.

“Hm, now what could you be doing here?”a voice cut you out of your thoughts and made you look up. Dread coursed through your veins in realization as to who the voice belonged to. “Trying to avoid me?”

You slammed your book closed as Laito emerged from the shadows revealing himself. A smirk spread across his face as he fixed the hat perched on his head.

“Since when did everything I do become an effort to avoid you?” you crossed your arms.

“Hm, must I remind you of how you hid yourself in a broom closet for three hours just to avoid bumping into me?” he smirked, causing you to remember how you had begged Reiji to not tell anyone where you went...asshole did it anyways.

“What do you want, Laito? Aren’t you usually bothering Yui at this time?” you rolled your eyes as you stood up.

“Oh are you jealous? Do you want more of my attention?” he strided up to you.

You clutched the book tighter in your hands, almost shaking.

“N-no!” you snapped. “The last thing I want is attention from someone like you!” you whipped around and began walking towards the door. “Of course, I’d rather Yui no have to worry about you assholes in the first place.”

Before you reached the doorknob, a hand hand slammed against the wall close to your head. You twirled around and were met my Laito’s pale face getting dangerously close to yours. Noses almost touching, his heavy breaths were fanning your face.

“Hm, I beg to differ little Y/N” he chuckled. “I think you love being annoyed by me.”

“Ha! Says you.” you turned your head away. “Can I go now?”

“Hm, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say-....Am I making you nervous Y/N?” Laito grinned, which caused you to nearly drop your jaw.

“Excuse me!??” you were taken aback. “Absolutely not!” you denied, even though your compromising position would say otherwise.

“Hm, has anyone ever told you that you are the worst liar?” he chuckled, slowly dipping his head into your neck.

“Tons of times!” you replied honestly. “W-what are you doing?”

“Hm, nothing too special. “He chuckled, causing you to grow suspicious. “I find it really hard to believe you’ve never been bitten before.” he chucked. “You smell....nice”

“Mostly because i keep myself from being put in positions to be bitten in the first pla- AAH!” You jumped at the feeling of what felt like needles digging into your flesh. The impact had caused you to drop your book. Laito took note of this and pinned your arms above your head. A shiver shot up your spine and you threw your head back, letting out a sound you’ve never made before.

“S-so...delicious.” you found it impossible to tear your eyes away from him. The crimson color dripping from his perfect skin. “Just admit it Y/N...Admit that you want me. You want to fuck me. You want to be ravaged...by me...if you behave...I just might give you that.” he chuckled, rubbing his tongue along his bottom lip.

You inhaled sharply looking down at your shoulder, the imprint of Laitos fangs almost stung and you would take this to your grave...but you wanted to feel it again.

“Look at me, Y/N” Laitos seemingly teasing and soft voice had ground raspy and deep, which also caught you by surprise. Before you could register what to say, the scene of Laito licking the remainder of your blood (his meal) off his fingers sent shivers down your spine. You meet his piercing gaze. With your arms still pinned above your head, Laito traced his tongue up your shoulder, to your neck. He chuckled deeply. “Your pulse is picking up.” he giggled. “No need to be so nervous Y/N”

“L-laito...Y-you’re being mean.” your breath hitched.

“Aww...Y/N.” he cooed as if talking to a child. “I like being mean to you...it makes playing together all the more fun.”

Before you could reply, Laito had crashed his mouth over yours. Fighting against everything telling you to push him away and yell at him and call him out for being nothing more than a thorn in your side, you found your mouth moving against his. Your book, long forgotten had somehow been thrown across the room, not that you cared in this particular moment. Laito’s hand had held on to the back of your neck, holding you in place. His opposite hand crawled under your shirt, seemingly reveling in how warm your skin was. It was like molten lava to him.

The fact that he could make you feel this way with only a kiss, despite his fear of you possibly hating him genuinely made him happy. He studied your movements, particularly in your hands.

Surprisingly enough, you held onto his collar allowing your kissed to deepen (and maybe get a bit sloppy.) You didn’t the mention the fact that you could taste his blood, mostly because...well you were enjoying it too much. Sure Laito was a shameless flirt with a horrific past, but you had only fooled yourself into focusing on his playboy attitude.

“Y/N...as much as I’m open to the idea. The thought of ripping your clothes off right here in an empty study wouldn’t be wise, and it would also make Reiji mad.” he giggled again. “So...come ere’”

You were hoisted into Laito’s arms, only to be pushed further against the wall. “Let’s do it anyways”

“You said Reiji would get mad!” you tried to even out your breaths.

“I couldn’t care less what Reiji thinks at this moment.”

Before you knew it, you had found yourself on the couch you were sitting, only this time laying on your back. You looked up and saw Laito look the door and turn towards you with hunger very evident in your eyes.

“You look so....delicious sprawled out for me, sweet Y/N.” he looked over your body.

So much for getting any reading done...

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pessimisticlatte · 4 years

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Glass Roses ~ Chapter 10

~ Marichat ~ Adrienette ~ Lukagami ~ Platonic Marigami ~ Chlobrina ~ Ladynoir ~ Alya x Nino ~ Rena Rouge x Carapace ~ Emilie x Nathalie ~ Tikki x Plagg ~

~IT’S REVEAL TIME! HELL YEAH!~ Chapter 11 will have a whole gang reveal! I’m so excited to start writing it!

~~~~~~~~~~

His towel hung over his damp hair, Adrien looked at a message on the screen of his spare phone. Water dripped off the tips of his dark, golden hair and onto the collar of his black shirt. He’d been in the middle of drying his hair and ignoring Plagg as the Kwami ate a roll of camembert bigger than he was as loudly and obnoxiously as he possibly could. Marinette had asked if he’d be alright revealing who he was beneath the mask to her tonight.

Weirdly, Adrien had thought she’d go longer than a day before asking but this was Marinette, the girl who interrogated Plagg after they beat Reflekdoll to get even the slightest hint as to who he was beneath the mask. He couldn’t be too surprised that her curiosity had gotten the better of her; he’d once seen her rifling through a bin for a note that Alya passed Nino and wouldn’t tell Mari what it said on it. Surprise, surprise, the note was about the party they were throwing Marinette for her birthday and both Alya and Nino knew better than to deposit that note where she could easily get to it, Adrien knew for a fact that Nino had taken the note home and shredded it so he must had dropped a dummy note into the bin that sent Marinette scrambling after it.

“What’s with the dumb look on your face?” Plagg took a break from his overtly sensual snacking to languidly roll his head back and look at Adrien with narrowly slitted eyes.

“What’s with the dumb look on your face?” After having listened to Plagg eat loudly for the last 40 minutes, Adrien’s quip came out harsher than he’d intended. Then again, Plagg had decided to follow him into the bathroom and eat his cheese so loudly that Adrien couldn’t hear his music, so maybe it was exactly as harsh as he intended.

“I asked first,” Plagg shoved a piece of cheese in his mouth and rolled his eyes.

“Marinette wants to see me,” Adrien held his phone in one had and rubbed the towel against his head with the other.

“You you, or Chat you?” Plagg spoke around a mouth full of camembert, some globs of the gooey cheese flying out of his disturbingly large mouth.

“Uh...both?” Adrien shrugged, sitting down on his lounge and depositing the phone on the coffee table before him. With both hands free, Adrien continued to dry his hair more roughly.

“Sooooo, she wants to see who’s under the mask, does she?” The look on Plagg’s face echoed the one on Nino’s from when they’d walked home. With a disgusted groan, Adrien looked away from the Kwami and stared at the dark screen of his phone, Plagg chucked almost maniacally behind him. “What’re you worried about?”

“What if I’m not what she expected?” Plagg floated over to Adrien and looked his guardian dead in the eye.

“That’s immediately what your mind goes to, Adrien?” Plagg crossed his fins and twisted in the air so he was looking at Adrien upside down.

“What if she was expecting someone else? What if she doesn’t actually like me?” Adrien pulled the towel off his head with a defeated sigh and looked at his bare feet on the wooden floor of his room.

“How dumb are you?” Adrien hadn’t heard Plagg sound more disdainful in his entire life. “Do you seriously think that Marinette ‘I would take a bullet for you, Adrien Agreste’ Dupain-Cheng would be angry at you being Chat Noir?”

“Uh...maybe,” Adrien’s voice cracked as the word ‘maybe’ left his lips.

“And she’s meant to be the clueless one,” Plagg huffed and slapped one of his fins against Adrien’s forehead until the teenager raised his head and batted him away. “She has been in love with you for a damn long time. God, Tikki complains about the pictures Marinette used to have of you stuck up all over her room.”

“Mari had pictures of me stuck up all over her room? I never saw them when I went over,” Adrien’s brow furrowed with confusion. If she liked him as Adrien, not just Chat, why didn’t she tell him?

“Because she hid them you, you moron,” Plagg started to whap Adrien’s face with his fins again. “Unlike you, Chat had time for her and went out of his way to see her. She would still love you, Adrien, if she knew you were Chat. I think it would mean a lot more to her if she found out that you were Chat Noir because it means that her crush, the great Adrien Agreste, has been saving her ass all this time.”

“I guess you’re right,” Plagg whapped Adrien’s face harder at that comment.

“I am always right, don’t forget it,” Adrien flicked Plagg away from him with his thumb and middle finger, the creature twisting through the air like a balloon with all its air being released. “You gonna go see her, or what?”

“Or what,” Adrien stood, carrying his towel over to the laundry hamper and dumping it in there. “Of course I’m going to see her, Plagg. Sh-should we get her some flowers?”

“Like I fucking know,” Plagg threw his fins in the air and floated back toward his plate of cheese indignantly. “I don’t know what human girls like! I barely know what Kwami girls like.”

“I think Tikki likes it when you leave her alone,” Adrien could feel Plagg’s eyes staring daggers into the back of his head. It drew a cocky smirk from the teen as he faced the angrily buzzing creature.

“Sugarcube loves it when I hang out with her,”

“I highly doubt that,” Plagg huffed and blew a raspberry at Adrien. “You’re an immortal being and I’m a 17 year old kid but, somehow, you’re the childish one. I can’t fathom how you’ve lived this long.”

“Being irresistable,” The pure conviction in Plagg’s voice had Adrien laughing so hard he started choking. He couldn’t be serious.

“Ok, Plagg,” Adrien wheezed once his laughing induced coughing fit died down. “Claws out.”

Plagg was sucked into the ring on Adrien’s hand and began to send the classic Chat Noir catsuit solidifying across Adrien’s body. The suit always made adjustments for whenever Adrien wore it; when he’d shot up, the suit had accommodated it, and when he’d started to stop being scrawny and start being brawny, the suit changed its fit to highlight the toned muscles of his abdomen, arms and legs. With a grin, Adrien pushed one of the windows out of his room open and launched himself into the cooling twilight air of Paris.

~~~~~~~

Marinette was pacing, chewing her nails. She’d sent the message to Chat ages ago and he hadn’t given her a reply. She knew that he’d been wanting to reveal who he was for ages but had something changed his mind? Did he already know what Tikki was going to tell them and thought it would be safer to dump her? So much doubt and worry clouded in Marinette’s mind, doubling the speed of her pacing and tripling the speed of her heart beat. A gentle rap on the curtain covered doors leading out to Mari’s balcony told her that her cat in shining armour had arrived.

Trying to steady her breath, Mari pushed the door open and looked at the black leather clad boy grinning adorably in front of her. Without a word but with a tiny bow, Chat produced a bouquet of assorted flowers and held them out to her with a sincere, cheeky smile.

“For you,” He said as Marinette took the paper wrapped bouquet in her hands and gazed at him with huge, wonder filled eyes. “May I come in, princesa?”

“Yes,” Mari’s voice was light, breathy, as she stepped out of his way with her stunning blue eyes glued to the flowers in her arms. “W-where did you get these?”

“A cat doesn’t like to give away his secrets,” Adrien winked at her and pressed a long, claw tipped finger to his smirking lips. The bravado was a facade to hide how nervous he was. Tikki said that Marinette liked him and Plagg said it too but what if she didn’t love him? He’d also grabbed the bouquet from a florist who was closing late, he’d given the poor man a lot of money for his trouble and said that the man was more than welcome to tell everyone that Chat Noir had bought flowers from his shop. The owner looked like he was on the verge of tears as Chat disappeared into the night. “But there is one secret I’d be happy to give away.”

Marinette placed the flowers gently on her desk and exhaled as calmly as she could. This was nerve wracking. What if he hated her once he found out that she was Ladybug? What if everything changed? Oh god, what if this was a bad idea? Her cheeks began to turn and tears pricked her eyes. Chat walked forward and pulled Mari into his arms as she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes to stop herself from crying.

“Are you scared, corazon?” Chat’s voice was soft as his hand gently stroked her loosely ponytailed hair. Marinette gave a watery nod into his chest and pressed herself closer to him. “I’m scared too.”

“W-why are you scared?” Marinette pulled away slightly and looked into his green eyes with a wobbling bottom lip.

“I’m scared that you won’t like who I am underneath my mask,” He was completely sincere. He had no reason to lie to her and she was as scared as he was for this reveal. Chat pressed a gentle kiss to Mari’s forehead.

“If I can love you with the mask, why can’t I love you without it?” She blinked, her dark lashes feathering across her cheeks as she did, silvery tears shone between the thick fibres.

“Because fear is irrational,” He pressed her back against his chest, squeezing her tightly. If something did happen and they fell apart after this, he wanted to hold her properly. He needed to imprint how it felt to have her in his arms into his soul. “Are you ready?”

“C-can you keep holding me while you do it...so..so I can look at you when I let go and know that it’s still my Chaton?” Adrien melted into her as her wobbly voice released the muffled request. His heart pounded with overwhelming love for the girl in his arms, only she would need to be holding him to know that it’s him and only for her would be oblige.

“Of course,” Pressing one final kiss to Mari’s head as Chat Noir, he slid his hands down around her waist and whispered; “Plagg, claws in,” into her ear. She stiffened as the suit melted away and where she had once been touching leather, she was now touching either golden skin or expensive fabric. Mari wound her hands into the soft black cotton of his shirt as she felt her forehead make contact with the very warm skin of his neck. “Are you ready for me to let go?”

“Yes…,” Adrien released her and stepped back. Mari had squished her eyes closed, her hands still fisted into his shirt. He released a small laugh and put his hands over hers. The feel of his bare skin on hers felt so strange, she knew that whoever was standing before her now was still Chat but she didn’t know if she was ready.

“Open your eyes, Buggaboo,” At the sound of her cooed nickname, Marinette’s eyes shot open and she fell to her ass on the floor. A hand extended itself to her, long fingers with perfectly shaped nails, a silver ring with a faint engraving of a cats paw, a faded friendship bracelet knotted with green and orange and red and blue; looking up the arm her eyes met the curve of his bicep and the strong line of his jaw. Jumping her gaze to his face, blue eyes met green and a goofy smile broke across Adrien Agreste’s face.

“Ad-...Adrien?” Her words came out choked. Adrien was Chat Noir...and he’d called her Buggaboo? H-he knew that she was Ladybug?

“It’s me,” He decided to kneel down on the floor in front of her and take her hands in his own. “It’s me, Mari, I’m Chat Noir.”

“I don’t know...I don’t know how I didn’t guess it…,” Her voice was disbelieving and her eyes were still glued to his, wide and uncertain for the first time in a long time. “A..a-and you know that I..that I’m…”

“Ladybug,” Squeezing her hand, he supplied Marinette a reassuring smile. “I don’t know how I’ve been so lucky to have the most selfless girl in Paris to call my own.”

“How long?” Her voice wobbled but a small smile started to creep across her bitten lips.

“Since I put you to bed all those months ago, I had a little encounter with Tikki,” Hearing her name, the Ladybug Kwami came zooming out of her hiding place and was immediately pulled into an embrace by Plagg. “She told me not to force you to see who I was until you were ready.”

“She’s the one who convinced me to ask you to do it tonight,” Mari shot a grumpy look at her Kwami who was struggling out of Plagg’s grip with no avail. “It’s not like I wasn’t going to ask you anyway.”

“Well, I’m glad you did because today was so damn hard, Mari,” He released one of Marinette’s hands to run his fingers through his wavy hair.

“What do you mean?” She knew what he meant, judging by how calm he was and the shining look in his eyes, she knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I wanted to kiss you so many times today,” He gave her a sheepish grin. “Every single time you laughed or smiled or breathed, I just wanted to scream that I loved you and I wanted to hold your hand.”

Marinette placed her hand on Adrien’s cheek and wove her fingers into the silken strands of his hair. He’d let it grow out recently, hoping that it would make an easier transition between Chat and Adrien when he finally revealed himself. Of course, the suit had made adjustments for how Adrien had wanted to look, deciding not to make his hair longer when he transformed like it usually did.

“You messaged me when you were at school but you hadn’t given me your phone number,” She stroked the pad of her thumb across his cheek, Adrien let out a long purr.

“Backup phone,” Adrien pulled the backup phone out of his jeans pocket. He unlocked it and showed Mari the two contacts on it, one was the number Master Fu had used and the other was Marinette’s.

“Buggababe?” The tears that had shone in her eyes were gone now, a radiant happiness pulsing off the two. Tikki stopped struggling against Plagg after he whispered to her to let them have this moment, before they had to break the news to them they had to let Adrien and Marinette be happy.

“Y’know how I call you Buggaboo?” He leant into Mari’s careful stroking of his cheek. “Well, since you’re my girlfriend now, you’re my Buggababe.”

“Who said anything about girlfriend, Adrien Agreste?” She scrunched up her nose as she teased him and pinched the skin of his cheek slightly.

“But you are my girlfriend,” The confused look on Adrien’s face was absolutely adorable.

“Technically, I’m Chat Noir’s girlfriend,” She tipped her head and smirked at him, poking her tongue out slightly. “No one ever said anything about being Adrien Agreste’s girlfriend.”

“Why’re you being so mean to me, Mari?” Adrien dropped the spare phone and picked Marinette up, securing her in his lap.

“Well, I am Chat Noir’s girlfriend and if Adrien Agreste wants the same treatment, he’s going to have to ask,” She sung into his neck, both her hands were free now as she snuggled into the warmth of the boy holding her. Tracing a fingertip over the ridges of his chest hidden beneath his plain black shirt, Marinette inhaled the smell of his shampoo and deodorant.

“If that’s the case,” Adrien pushed Marinette out of his lap, earning a giggling squeal from her. He stood and walked toward the balcony doors, his back to her. “I guess Adrien Agreste is going to have to go home.”

“Get back here,” Mari launched herself off the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck, locking her ankles around his slim waist.

“But it would be horrible of me to stay here with Chat Noir’s girlfriend and not my own,” He wrapped his warm hands around her calves and walked them over to the bed. ‘Unless Chat Noir’s girlfriend would like to become mine?”

“Of course she’d like to become yours,” Mari breathed into his ear before he dropped back onto the bed, crushing her beneath his weight. This was a far cry from the interaction they’d had last night, which had been all soft touches and stolen kisses, he’d gone out of his way not to collapse onto her when he’d carried her over to the daybed. “Oh my god, Adrien, what do you eat?”

“Bricks,” Adrien arched his back, still holding Mari’s calves so she couldn’t wiggle out from underneath him.

“At least you’ve got a good amount of iron in your diet,” She tried to flip him off her but she wouldn’t let go, chuckling loudly. “Are you going to ask me out or what?”

“Or what!” Both of them whipped their heads to look at Plagg who was then dragged away by an angry Tikki as she slapped one of her fins over his mouth.

Marinette giggled, the sound a lullaby to Adrien’s ears and heart. “Would you like to be my girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng a.k.a Ladybug?”

“I’m going to have to ask Chat Noir if it’s alright with him first,” The soft pads of Mari’s fingers found the bare skin of Adrien’s waist, his shirt having ridden up from her legs being wrapped him. She started to tickle him, his body arching and rocking as he laughed and tried to make her stop. “Would it be alright with you, Chat, if I started dating Adrien Agreste?”

Adrien was choked with laughs, unable to pull away from Mari as she retaliated to his heavy weight dropped atop her. “Y-y….yes, I’d be...r-r-really happy for y-you two,” She stopped tickling him, Adrien rolled off her and laid beside her in the bed.

“Then you have your answer, Chaton,” Mari rolled onto her side and kissed Adrien’s cheek. Adrien suddenly glanced at the trapdoor leading down to Marinette’s parents apartment. Noticing the glance and realising that she’d never told Adrien that her parents were out, she quickly set his mind at ease. “Maman and Papa are out having dinner with Grandpapa and Grandmama, they finally repaired ties. Grandpapa wasn’t very happy when Papa married Maman so I hope all goes well because I’m not sure what would happen if it didn’t.”

“I’m glad that I get you all to myself,” Adrien brushed her fringe behind her ear and smiled softly up at her. Marinette kissed his lips with a sweet smile. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Maybe the universe just loves you, Kitty Cat,” Mari rubbed her nose against his, her eyes closed as his memorised the sound of her happy hums.

“Maybe it does,” Her eyelashes brushed his as she blinked open. “Maybe you love me.”

“Maybe I do,” Marinette kissed him again. When she tried to pull away, Adrien slid his hand to the back of her neck and followed her, keeping their lips pressed together. She let out yet another happy hum as his long pianists fingers tangled into her soft, dark hair, the strands softer than anything he’d ever held.

“Marinette? Adrien?” The teenagers pulled away from each other as Tikki’s worried voice sliced through the almost silent room.

“Oh, I forgot,” Marinette sat up, glancing between Tikki and Adrien. “Tikki had something that she needed to tell us and she wanted to do it when we were together.”

Adrien sat up and leaned against the wall to the side of Mari’s bed, pulling her into his lap between his opened legs.

“Adrien, you’re not wearing shoes,” His arms were securely wrapped around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. Mari pointed at his bare feet and bumped her head against his.

“I must’ve been so excited to see you that I forgot to put some on,” He bumped her back, his normal phone buzzed faintly in his pocket, drawing a quizzical look from Mari. “I’m not going to check it until I get home,” Adrien pressed a kiss to Mari’s neck. “I’m here with you and I intend to focus on you.”

“Alright, we need to focus,” Tikki floated in front of the two of them, Marinette lowered her hand and twined her fingers with Adrien’s over her stomach. “This might be some...terrible news.”

“Don’t freak the happy couple out, Sugarcube, just tell ‘em,” Plagg floated up on top of Tikki and balanced the back of his head on the crown of hers. Tikki protested.

“Okay, okay, Plagg, get off me,” Plagg did. “Thank you. I told Marinette earlier today that Duusuu came to see Plagg and I.”

“Duusuu?” Adrien raised his head and looked at Mari, who nodded. “Duusuu is the Peacock Kwami, right?”

“Yes, Duusuu is bonded with Mayura,” Tikki started to slide her fins together anxiously, looking to Plagg for support, which he didn’t provide.

“Why would Mayura’s Kwami come and speak to you?” Mari shushed Adrien who just furrowed his brow and grimaced.

“Because Mayura doesn’t want to help Hawkmoth anymore, she wants to stop him,” Adrien opened his mouth to speak, he didn’t know that Mari had already asked all these questions but he closed his mouth after she gently smacked his hand. “Duusuu told us who Hawkmoth and Mayura are.”

“You didn’t say that earlier, Tikki,” The room was so silent they could have heard a pin drop.

“That’s why I wanted you two here together and with no secrets between you. This is going to be some...some potentially scary information,” Plagg floated over to Tikki and took one of her fins, trying to calm her down.

“You can do it, Sugarcube,” Plagg squeezed Tikki’s fin.

“Who are they, Tikki?” Adrien asked as softly as he could, his heart hammering against Marinette’s back as she rubbed her thumb up and down his wrist.

Tikki glanced at Plagg, who gave her a nod, and exhaled shakily. “M-Mayura is Nathalie, Adrien,”

The force of Adrien’s head shooting upwards caused him to smack Marinette in the jaw, his eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated with confusion. Mari gently rubbed her jaw but didn’t say anything to him; this was a shock to her too but Nathalie was the woman who raised him, she was is mother in all aspects of the word other than by blood.

“Nathalie is Mayura? A-am I the reason why she changed her mind?” Tikki nodded sombrely. “D-does that mean that someone working f-for my dad is Hawkmoth?”

Mari gently squeezed Adrien’s hand to reassure him that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere and that she understood that he was hurting. He sunk his head back into Marinette’s neck, a wetness pressing warmly against her skin.

“It’s worse than that, Adrien,” Plagg watched his guardian collapse into his girlfriend, this wasn’t going to be a nice talk but Plagg had insisted that Tikki give them time to associate tonight with loving each other instead of Adrien’s world falling apart around him.

“H-how could it be worse?” Adrien’s lips moved against Marinette’s skin, she moved a hand up into his hair and massaged his scalp. “It could only be worse if...if…,”

“Hawkmoth was your dad,” Marinette finished for him, looking at Tikki.

“Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth,” Adrien squeezed Mari tighter, tears sliding down the column of her neck and pooling in the dip of her collarbone. Tikki felt tears well in her eyes, at least he had Marinette.

“W...w-why is he doing this?” Adrien’s hiccup shook Mari’s body.

“He wants to bring your mother back, Adrien, that’s all Duusuu told me,” Tikki floated down to the surface of the bed, Plagg trailing behind her still holding her fin. “W-when you accepted Nathalie as your mother, she realised that she couldn’t keep helping him.”

Marinette hummed reassurances to Adrien as Tikki spoke, Plagg uncharacteristically quiet.

“Nathalie loves your mother, Adrien, she loves her more than your father does and she knows that Emilie wouldn’t want this,” Tikki placed her free fin on the top of Adrien’s bare foot, large tears dropping from her eyes. “She said that Emilie wouldn’t forgive your father for what he did to bring her back, or the way that he neglected you. Nathalie also said that she couldn’t see you torn apart by Emilie’s reappearance and subsequent reaction to what Gabriel did.”

A sob shook Adrien’s body as more tears slid down Marinette’s neck and into her shirt. She began to gently rock him; such a good night had turned so bad in a very short time.

“She’s doing it for you, man,” Plagg broke his silence. “I heard when you called her Mum and I saw how happy she was when you called her that. If I was the person who raised my childhood sweetheart’s kid after her hubby put her in the ground, I’d have a change of heart and want to save the world for the kid too.”

Marinette tipped her head slightly, Adrien had whispered a question to her. With a frown she asked him to say it again.

“Adrien wants to know of Nathalie knows that he’s Chat Noir,” Mari squeezed his wrist gently, he let go of his forearm and tangled his fingers into hers. She pressed a kiss to his temple.

“No, she doesn’t,” For the first time since Tikki had started telling them about her talk with Duusuu, her voice didn’t wobble. “She asked who you two were but I didn’t tell her, I said that it was too dangerous and that we’d get in contact with Nathalie when you were ready.”

“Thank you, Tikki,” Adrien’s voice was thin and reedy as he raised his head slightly and met Tikki’s gaze. His eyes were red and bloodshot, tears stained his lashes and traced silver tracks down his cheeks as well as Marinette’s neck. “Thank you for not telling her.”

“It’s alright, Adrien, just like you revealing yourself to Marinette, I wanted you to be ready to reveal yourself to Nathalie,” Adrien put his face back in Mari’s shoulder and shook his head, tears were tracking slowly down Marinette’s cheeks and dripping into Adrien’s golden hair. Small dark spots in the fine waves of his hair gave away how many silent tears she had shed while forcing herself to remain composed for him. Adrien hiccupped.

“Sh-she loved my Maman,” Adrien kept shaking his head, Marinette pressed one of her hands into his temple to stop him from cracking his skull against her jaw again. “And she..she wants to defy my father..f-for me?”

“Yes, Chaton,” Mari spoke softly into Adrien’s hair, his sobs quieted as she spoke to him in soothing tones. “You accepted her as your mother and mothers should always want to protect their children. Nathalie was the mother you thought you didn’t have, I can’t believe I saw that before you did,” She released a small, tear clogged laugh. “You have a family, Adrien, and it’s so much more than your asshole of a dad.”

“Did you just call my dad an asshole, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” He raised his red, tear tracked face and looked up at Mari with a wobbling smile. She could tell that the smile was genuine, but that he was still hurting so he couldn’t make it as bright as he normally did. “Did you call world famed fashion designer and billionaire, Gabriel Agreste, an asshole?”

“Yes, I think I did,” Marinette feigned surprise and shot him a wide, dimpled smile. “It doesn’t matter how good his designs are if he can’t spend time with his own son. His own son, for fucks sake.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear,” Adrien pressed his nose into Marinette’s hair, her ponytail now completely gone and leaving her hair loose around her shoulders. She nudged up into his embrace with her shoulder, earning a kiss to her head from him.

“You have a family, Adrien,” She nudged him again as she whispered to him. Tikki and Plagg looked at each other, the Cat Kwami shrugging. Maybe this went better than planned, did Tikki even have a plan? She probably did, it was Tikki afterall, but her complete loss of composure had Plagg thinking that maybe she had no clue what she was doing. Marinette started to sway in Adrien’s arms. “You have Nathalie, you have Nino, and Alya, and Kagami. You have Plagg, and Tikki. You have my Maman and Papa, they love you a lot, you know. And you have me.”

Adrien smiled, the corners of his lips still twitching as his heart still cracked from finding out what his absent father had been doing in all the time he’d been absent.

“I have you,” He rested his temple against the crown of her head. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“If I ever see your dad in person again, I don’t care if we’ve defeated him or not, I am going to kick him so hard in the balls he might develop a nut allergy,” Mari pulled out of his arms to turn and meet his eyes as she made her promise to him. Her eyes were hard, promising Adrien that she would not hold back even if she was fighting her fashion idol. He meant more to her than he could possibly fathom. Adrien laughed, a deep and rich laugh, before pulling Marinette into a deep kiss and pressing their foreheads together. She twisted in his arms and rested her back against his chest again, tapping her fingers along the goosebumped skin of his right arm. “We’re going to have to tell Alya and Nino that I’m Ladybug. Oh my god, Alya is going to lose her mind when she finds out that I’m Ladybug.”

“They...uh...they kinda already know,” Adrien’s voice gradually got quieter as he trailed the admission off.

“Oh, good,” Marinette smiled and wiggled into a comfortable position in his arms. “Wait WHAT?!”

She shot forward and out of his embrace, flinging herself off the bed. Plagg and Tikki had barely moved in time not to be hit by a Marinette cannonball.

“How do they fucking know, Adrien?” Mari’s eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them before and she was pulling at her dark hair, pacing. “How on Gods quickly dying once green earth do they know and how did Alya keep it to herself?”

“Mari, calm down,” Adrien crawled forward on the bed and grabbed Marinette’s wrists, halting her pacing. “Alya guessed that I was Chat and then let it slip that Nino was Carapace and then I accidentally let it slip that you were Ladybug. They only found out last night, so it hasn’t been anything major and I honestly have no clue how Alya kept it to herself.”

Marinette’s breathing evened out as she eased onto the bed in front of Adrien. “Oh-okay,” She took one of Adrien’s hands and slotted their fingers together. “I wanna tell them.”

“Did you see the message Nino sent you on the Yoyo last night?”

“Uh, no,” Mari looked really confused as Adrien tapped his fingers against the back of her hand. “Why-...,” Marinette paused, her eyes sweeping back and forth as she processed something. “You skipped out on your patrol, didn’t you?” She grinned at him. “You skipped out on your patrol to come and see me and you needed Nino to cover for you but Alya was already there.”

“Alya wasn’t already there, I asked her to meet me too so I could convince one of them to cover for me,” Mari flicked his forehead.

“Do we wanna get suited up and get the gang together?” She lifted his wrist, the one with his watch on it and tapped the face. Alya would be patrolling tonight, and Marinette would be patrolling tomorrow night, so it was likely that Alya was already out and not finished her second round yet. If Nino had joined her last night, then he’d probably joined her tonight.

“If you think that’d be best?” Adrien squeezed Mari’s hand.

“I want to ask you something first,” Adrien inclined his head to indicate to Marinette that he was listening. “I want to give the Snake and Dragon miraculouses to Luka and Kagami permanently.”

“Okay,” Adrien gave a half smile and shrugged.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I think it’d be cool to have some extra hands on deck,” He started rubbing the back of her hand again. “We should give Pollen back to Chloe.”

Marinette was silent for a moment, her mouth forming words that never created sound. “I agree,” Adrien raised his eyebrows. “She was great as Queen Bee.”

“I didn’t expect you to take that so well,” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed their joined fingers. “What changed?”

“I overheard a conversation between Chloe and Sabrina today, and it changed my view on Chloe,”

“She finally asked Sabrina out, didn’t she?” Marinette blinked slowly.

“Finally?” Adrien puffed out a laugh.

“That’s why she was stuck to me during the holidays, she wanted advice on how to ask Sabrina out,” It was Marinette’s turn to laugh.

“Did you have much advice to give?” She stifled her giggles with the back of her free hand.

“Unsurprisingly, no, I’ve never asked anyone out in my entire life,” Marinette’s eyes bulged open as her giggles died down.

“Am I your first girlfriend, Adrien Agreste?” She sounded so disbelieving.

“Yeah,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Am I your first boyfriend?”

Marinette’s face went bright red, she let go of Adrien’s hands and shoved him back on the bed so he couldn’t see how embarrassed she was.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Adrien propped himself up on his elbows to find Mari hiding her face in her hands. “Hey, don’t hide your face,” He sat up and pried her hands away from her crimson cheeks. “I love when you blush, it makes your freckles stand out so much more.” Her cheeks glowed an even darker red. “You’re so beautiful, Mari.” Adrien kissed her warm cheek.

“Oi, lovebirds, are we gonna get groovin’ or be mushy all night? I’ve got a nice wheel of cheese callin’ my name back at Casa de Agreste,” Adrien and Marinette pulled away from each other and looked at their Kwamis.

“He’s right,” Adrien shrugged, pulling Mari off the bed. “You might want to put something other than pjs on if we’re going to unsuit for the gang.”

“You might want to put some shoes on,” Mari poked her tongue out at him as she walked to her dresser and pulled a pair of jeans out of it. Picking a soft grey, cotton shirt and a bra, Marinette dug the miraculous box out of her underwear drawer and put the Bee, Snake and Dragon miraculouses on top of the dresser. “Eyes to yourself while I change, Agreste.”

Her voice had taken the confident Ladybug tone that he adored so much, raising his hands in submission he grinned and turned around. Marinette slipped behind her changing screen and swapped her pyjamas out for her normal clothes.

“I’m going to have to go barefoot because I don’t have any shoes,” The sound of Marinette changing, the small thuds and rustling of clothes, had all the hair on his body standing ramrod straight. She laughed.

“Poor baby, you’re going to get cold feet,” Mari’s footfalls walking toward him had him turning around to face her. Marinette dumped the bundle of pyjama clothes on her bed and pulled a pair of sneakers out from a plastic bucket underneath. Adrien hadn’t seen her grab socks but she pulled the sneakers on over the top of some pale pink socks with lace fringing the top.

“Never when I’m with you,” He helped her to her feet. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” The two faced each other and took a deep breath in. “Tikki-,” “Plagg-,” “Spots on-,” “Claws out-,”

They transformed, looking at each other. Marinette’s suit was different now, though. It looked a bit like the suit Adrien had worn as Mister Bug, but there was padded armour around her shoulders, sides, breasts and the sides of her legs. Adrien’s Chat Noir suit hadn’t changed, of course it hadn’t because it was just the way he liked it. With a cheeky bow, Adrien extended his clawed had to Marinette.

“Mi’lady,” His pupils dilated as his dimpled grin made an appearance. Mari quickly turned and grabbed the miraculous boxes she’d put on top of her dresser, shoving them into the pockets that appeared when her suit had changed. There were no lumps or bumps where the boxes rested in her suit, the magic of it tucking them safely away. “Shall we get going?”

“Yes, we shall,” Marinette took Adrien’s hand and they leapt out into the cool night air.

~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~~ @katieykat513 @lady-charinette @aussie-lesbian @mochegato @starkerismyking @nifflerstorm @hnbutt @maniic-pixie-dream-girl

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madison02me · 4 years

Text

Our Greatest Adventure Yet

A prequel to my other fic, Reunited. Hope you guys like

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524296

Reunited link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20453522

Summary: It was a normal day for Eugene. He was hungry and had no money. Well, it looked like it was that time again.

Time for some pickpocketing.

He never thought that it would be the day that he would meet his future parents, let alone them be two guys.

Eugene was hungry. No, hungry wasn't the right word. He was utterly starving. But had already had breakfast at the orphanage, if you could call the slop they serve breakfast. He knew that the staff who worked there tried the hardest they could to feed everyone, but they couldn't make something at least edible?

Not to mention that he had given half of his share of food to one of the younger kids because one of the bigger bullies had stolen his. He would have got it back for the kid if the bully hadn't already scarfed it down like the pig he was, so he gave away half his own and made up an excuse of not being hungry. The look on the little guy's made him feel good inside but it did nothing to quell his growling stomach. Well, looks like it's that time again.

Time to do some pickpocketing.

Eugene got up from his sitting position against the stone wall of the orphanage and let his face break into a small grin. Eugene loved the rush of pickpocketing, he had never been caught, even on his first try. Though it might have had something to do with the fact that the guy was drunk...and asleep but it didn't matter to Eugene. To him, he was living out the life of his Hero Flynn Rider. A dashing swashbuckler who had an abundance of thrilling adventures wherever he went and besides it wasn't like the money was going to be put to waste. He just needed enough to buy an apple or something which was 2 coins at most and if he so happened to grab more than two coins, why not buy some more food for some of the other kids?

Eugene stuck his hands in pockets and walked down an almost hidden alleyway that would lead to the main market place; where there were so many people that going unnoticed was almost too easy. But when he turned a corner he quickly jumped back behind and pressed his body against the cool brick wall, he waited before peeking around the corner to get a better look at what made him jump back, he saw that there were already two men with their backs facing Eugene near the exit of the ally who stood behind some large crates before they quickly ducked them as the sound of people running drew near. He didn't have time to think before he saw some guards running past the ally but one came back and looked down, Eugene hid behind the wall as he held his breath, hoping that the guard would just move on.

After a few moments of silence, he heard a deep voice in an accent he didn't reorganise from around the corner. "Ok, I think they're gone." He heard another voice let out a relieved sigh before speaking. "That was too close..."

"Don't be so dramatic Tulio, we got away and with the gold no less!" The first voice piped up once again.

"Yeah, which we would have more than if you hadn't distracted me."

"What are you talking about? The deal was that I would play and you would gamble, you were the one who got caught with those dice of yours. I was smart enough to put all my earnings in my bag, while you scrambled to get what you could."

"Don't you dare act innocent, you distracted me with those eyes again."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. What about my eyes detracts you?~"

"Y-You, you know exactly what they do to me..."

"Well, elaborate Darling, I'm not a mind reader~."

"M-Miguel, Stop. We'll get caught."

"No one can see us, you worry too much."

Eugene was enraptured by the two men's conversation, it went from bickering to flirting almost no time. It was a common occurrence for Eugene to see people flirting, hugging or even kissing in the streets but has never been two men before. Nuns come to the orphanage and talk to all the kids there about what they should do if they wanted to go to heaven, Eugene doesn't actually believe in any of that stuff but he would never tell the Nun's that, but one thing that was always very strongly against was what the Nun's called Homosexuality. It was a wired lecture and lots of the little kids couldn't even say the word but they explained as 'To love a man love another man as they should love a woman is a sin, an abomination, they have the devils blood in them and they are all pure evil'. Eugene wasn't sure if that was true, he always thought that Love was a good thing and it couldn't be wrong no matter what.

The more he thought about it, the more curious he got. So he slowly poked his head around the corner before turning back at almost lightning speed, his face scarlet red. One of the men, who was wearing a red shirt and had golden blond hair was holding the other man, who had dark hair and a blue shirt up against one of the crates, with their arms warped around each other and one of the dark-haired man's legs were loosely wrapped around the blond's waist. They were clearly kissing. Eugene was a little grossed out at first then he thought about the conversation that the men had just had, they mentioned they had Gold, a whole bag of it.

Eugene had no idea where they got the money but they wouldn't notice a few coins missing would they? Sneaking a peek at the two, they were still very preoccupied with each other but another thing caught his attention, a bag that was hanging off the blonde man's shoulder and he could just see a glint of something shiny. 'Jackpot!' Eugene thought in his head.

It wouldn't be too hard to sneak up, get a handful of coins and then sneak away and/or run away. At least that's what Eugene thought.

Eugene then began to creep forward on his tiptoes, keeping an eye on the two men. He smiled a little smugly as he noticed that the two individuals were too invested in each other to notice anything going on around them, he slowly reached up for the bag and grabbed as many of the small coins in his little fist as he could, hoping that the slight clinking noise of the gold wouldn't draw their attention as he pulled his had back gradually.

Eugene thought that he was in the clear, that he had committed the perfect crime, he and the other kids would be eating good tonight!

... That was until he felt a sturdy grip on his wrist.

Eugene squealed in fright and he looked up to see both of the men had stopped and now we're currently standing over him, looking down at him. "What do you think you're doing kid?" The one with intense blue eyes asked as he kept a firm grip on Eugene's wrist.

The coins dropped from Eugene's hand as he felt his face grow hot and his eyes stung as fresh tears weld up in them. Eugene was at a loss of what to do, he had never been caught before. He had overheard what people did to thieves, he heard that they cut their hands off. He tried weakly to pull his arm free but he knew it was no use, he was a goner.

Eugene let out a sob as he pleaded, "Please don't cut my hands off. I'm sorry, I'll never do it again. Please, don't hurt me." Eugene cried his little heart out, he was stupid to think that he could steal from these too, he knew it was risky but he tried anyway, now he was going to pay for it.

He was no Flynn Rider, he was just a dumb kid...

"Cut your hands off? That's a little extreme don't you think? Oh come on now, don't cry. We're sorry we scared you." Eugene was more than surprised when he heard the comforting voice and a hand his shoulder. He looked up to see grass-green eyes, full of warmth.

The same man was crouched to Eugene's level, he then reached his other hand up. Eugene flinched back and closed his eyes, expecting a slap to the face but what he got instead was a slightly callused hand brushing the tears from his cheeks When the man pulled his hand back Eugene rubbed his eyes against his wrist to clear his vision and look up at the two men. Now that his vision was clear in the men were right in front of him, he could get a good look at the men who had caught him.

The one in front of him was average height, broad-shouldered, and handsome, with shoulder-length, golden-blonde hair and green eyes. He had a muscular and toned body. He had a beard that seemed to be darker than his blonde hair. His outfit consisted of his a red loose tunic, khaki pants and brown shoes. He looked somewhere between his late 20s or early 30s.

"What's your name kid?" The man who still had a group on Eugene's wrist asked. Eugene then looked the other male up and down.

The other man was tall and slender with blue eyes. He had long, wavy black hair, tied back with a purple ribbon in a low ponytail, and a goatee. He wore a blue collared long-sleeved shirt under a brown vest, green pant's with a black belt with a golden buckle on a black belt, and brown shoes. The man appeared to be in his mid-20s to early 30s.

"U-uh, um... E-Eugene... My name is Eugene." Eugene answered. "Y-your not gonna cut my hands off?"

The black-haired man rolled his eyes, letting go of Eugen's arm and proceeded to talk with his hands. "Kid, that just something the church tell you to get you to behave. No one cuts off hands any more. The worst you will get if your caught stealing is either your killed or you get a beating, it depends on who you steal from and what you steal."

The blond then stood up and swatted the other. "Tulio! Don't tell him that!"

"Well, do you want me to be honest or do you want me to lie to the kid, he needs to learn now or he'll get himself hurt or worse."

"You could have said it a little better, he's just a child."

"So were we when we set off on our own. We were lucky, he might not be.

Eugene again watched the two argue, "Wh-What are your names'?" Eugene wanted to know who these men were and what they planned to do with him.

The two ceased their fighting and once again looked down at him.

"Oh right, well I am Miguel and this is Tulio." The blonde- no, Miguel said as he gestured to himself and then Tulio.

"... Really?" Eugene asked.

"Huh?" Tulio replied. "Yeah, that's our names. What about them?"

"Those names are wired and what up with your voices, why do you guys sound like that?"

"Oh! Well, you see we're from Spain. Ever heard of Spain?" Miguel said as he leaned down slightly. Eugene shook his head, he didn't know much about the world outside of Corona. "Well, in Spain we speak a different language called Spanish, that is why we have these strange accents."

"Our names are Spanish too. Our names are considered common there, to use your names is weird, what kind of name is Eugene anyway?," Tulio followed along with the conversation, only to get another swot from Miguel. "What? Don't tell me it doesn't sound weird to you?"

Eugene wanted to be offended but he didn't like his name that much so he agreed with Tulio.

"No, you're right, it's a dumb name anyway. If I could I'd change it. to something cooler" Eugene said as he stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking some gravel around.

The two men exchanged a look before Tulio let out an almost inaudible sigh and leaned down to Eugene's level, "Well, why don't you?"

At the question, the boy perked his head up. "Huh?"

"If you could have any name, any name at all, what would it be?"

Eugene didn't even need to think. "Flynn Rider!"

Tulio arched an eyebrow, "Flynn Rider? Like the guy in the book?"

Eugene was surprised that Tulio knew of his favourite book of all time. "Yeah, him! He's my favourite character of all time! I want to be just like him. I just wish I could read the book myself, I always have to ask someone else to."

"What? You can't read? Haven't your parents taught you how to yet?"

Eugene fell silent and his gaze found the ground refusing to look the dark-haired male in the eye. For a few moments, there was utter stillness, even the sounds of the nearby market couldn't break through the silent ally.

"... You're not out living on the streets are you kid?" Tulio said in a slow but soft tone. Eugene shook his head and pointed at the opposite entrance of the ally.

"No, I live in that orphanage over there. But they don't have the time to teach anyone to read, there just too many."

Miguel, who had remained quiet for most of the conversation suddenly sprang forward, wrapping an arm around Tulio shoulder.

"Tulio could teach you! He taught me how to, so you should be no problem." The blond said with a huge grin on his face, not understanding the impact of the statement he had made.

"Uh, no, no, no! Miguel, we've talked about this. The little voice, remember?" Tulio said as he stepped back, removing Miguel's arm from his shoulder, making frantic hand movements as he talked, "Come on, I know you have one, you just never listen to it. What is it saying right now?

The blonde paused, looked thoughtful for a few moments before speaking, "You're right. We should bond first, you like ice cream, Eugene?"

At the very mention of ice cream, Eugene was willing to accept the wired situation that he had been up into, he had never had ice cream before but he had heard about it from other kids.

"I don't know but I wanna try some!" He didn't know how the treated tasted but he somehow knew that he would love it.

"Miguel, oh dios mio. No podemos tomar este niño por helado, ¡no eran sus padres!" Tulio said as he grabbed onto Miguel sleave, stopping him in his tracks.

Eugene's face melted from exhilarated to deeply confused, he couldn't understand a word that Tulio was saying. This must have been how they talk where they came from.

"Bueno, si no quieres helado, está bien, pero no lo arruines. Puede ser el único regalo que recibirá." Migule fired back as he glanced to Eugene then back to his partner. There was a breaif silence before Tulio let out an annoyed sigh. "Bien, bien... Just stop with the face. Come on kid, let's get this over with."

Eugene watched the man start to walk away before stopping at the exit to the ally before looking both left and right, Tulio was probably looking for any guards that would still be patrolling the area. "It's clear, now come on before we get caught again."

Eugene didn't move a muscle, he just looked up at Miguel, who was staring down at him. "What's the matter? Don't you want any ice cream?"

Eugene was embarrassed about what he was about to ask, "Can I hold your hand?... Please?" Eugene didn't want to get separated from the two men and the market was always super crowded.

Eugene could have sworn that he saw Miguel's eyes well up before he smiled the brightest smile he'd ever seen. "Why of course, but I can do better!" Eugene didn't have an opportunity to ask what he meant before he was being swept off of the ground by Miguel's strong hands. He let out a screech of shock that moulded into fits of laughter as he was lifted onto the blond man's shoulders.

Tulio could only watch as his partner lifted the little boy onto his shoulders, his face breaking out into a fond smile as he watched the two. He knew that Miguel had a huge soft spot for children, especially the poor ones since he grew up in that environment. Tulio was not as fond of children as Miguel was but he didn't discourage Miguel's enthusiasm or stop him, he knew that Miguel had always wanted children of his own, sometimes he would spend whole days just talking about what he would do if he and Tulio had one, what they would look like, what he would teach them and who they might grow up to be... But they both knew that could never have one.

Tulio had confessed to Miguel before that he always felt a little guilty for not being able to give him the family he always wanted, Miguel comforted him and told him that he would always be enough for him no matter what, that he was the only family that he needed. It was an incredibly emotional night for both of them, Tulio never forgot his words but he also never failed to notice how Miguel would look at young children with their parents without longing who look in his eye.

Maybe having the little brat around be good for both of them.

"Hey, come on you two! We only have so much daylight left," he called to them "The last one there's a Pendejo!" he yelled to them before he took off running.

"Oh no, you don't!" Miguel called after the taller man as he also took off running after Tulio.

"Yeah! Come on Miguel, let's get him!" Eugene said as he leaned down to the one man's ear. "What's a Pendejo?"

Miguel cringed a little, "Uh, you don't need to know..."

----- Eugene was 100% positive this has been the best day of his life. Tulio was surprisingly fast I knew she was a little disappointed when he found out that he had beaten them to the Ice Cream cart that was parked in the middle of the market but it was OK since Tulio gave him the chance to pick a flavour first. There were so many flavours that Eugene didn't know what to choose before he settled on one named 'Rocky Road'. Miguel chose strawberry and Tulio chose blueberry.

While they were enjoying their frozen treats, Miguel insisted on telling him a story. A story in which he and Tulio were accidentally mistaken for God's in a legendary city made of gold. Eugene was hanging on every word that the blonde said, he had heard of the mythical city of El Dorado but he never thought it was real. He said he wanted to find himself but Tulio told him not to bother, as they had sealed the entrance to keep away greedy people who only wanted to destroy it, Eugene was a bit disappointed that he missed out on an amazing adventure but the way that Miguel told it to him, it was like he was there the whole time.

They also talked about a woman named Chel, how she had helped them get through the situation that they had put themselves into you without being caught and sacrificed by the evil Tzekel-Kan, who also led the greedy people back to his home, thinking they were the gods that he was looking for. They spoke very fondly of Chel, how they were the Three Amigos for almost a year until they came across a great Empire with a young emperor took an interest in her and she took interest in him. The three parted ways after her and the emperor got married, he could tell that they miss her very much and that she means a lot to the two. Eugene wishes he could have met her, been with them on their amazing adventures.

After the story was done, Eugene wanted to know more about the two men. He learnt that the reason the two had been hiding in the ally in the first place, was because they had been caught gambling in the streets with loaded dice, they had performed a fake duel, to distract the crowd while they got close enough away to run and had ducked into the alley to hide.

It was also then that Miguel pulled out a strange instrument that Eugene had never seen before, Miguel called it a mandolin, a very popular instrument in Spain where he came from. He then started to play it, it was like nothing Eugene had ever heard before. It started softly before the tune got more upbeat and he started to dance to his music, Eugene then followed, it took a little convincing but Tulio eventually danced with them as well. He danced differently, it was mostly made up of hand clapping, percussive footwork, intricate hand, arm, and body movements. Eugene tried to follow to Tulio's example but he just ended up tripping on its own feet, he expected the dark-haired man to laugh at him but he just picked him up and showed him the moves; he wasn't perfect but at least he didn't trip up anymore.

It wasn't until he noticed that it was getting dark that he even thought of going back to the orphanage. Eugene didn't want too but he knew that he would get in trouble if he didn't.

"It's getting kind of dark, I should be getting back now..." Eugene said as the three of them walked through the streets of Corona. Eugene could tell by the looks on the two men's faces that they too were apprehensive and disappointed to hear this.

"Yeah, it does seem to be getting kind of late. We'll walk you back, things can get pretty dangerous on the streets at night kid, it's never safe to go alone." Tulio said as he absentmindedly grabbed the young boy's hand, keeping it in a soft but firm grip.

"Did you have fun today?" Miguel asked as he gently ruffled Eugene's hair before grabbing his other hand.

"Oh yeah! Today has been the best day of my life! I don't think anything could make it better, you guys are fun. I wish I could hang out with you guys all the time, you're not like any of the other adults around here. They always look at me either with disgust or like they're sorry for me. I don't want them to feel sorry for me, if they feel so sorry for me why don't they help me or any of the other kids at the orphanage? I just don't understand the world..." Eugene ranted as the three of them strolled down a familiar alleyway.

The two older men stayed quiet while they listened to the child, they understood exactly what he meant.

"I'm sorry son, I wish the world was simpler, I really do. But unfortunately, there's nothing you can do about it, sometimes to make it in this world you have to do things that you don't want to or do things that aren't technically legal." Miguel said softly as he rubbed Eugene's hand with his thumb.

"That's what I and Miguel do have to do, being criminals is no fun, conning people is dangerous and we always have to worry about people finding out that we're together. Plain and simple kid, the world sucks. But if you find people that truly care about you, people that would do anything for you to keep you safe and happy, then the world doesn't seem so bad sometimes." Tulio said in an earnest honest voice as he gripped Eugene's hand a little tighter.

"...I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." It was the only thing that Eugene could think to say as he listened to the wise word of two people beaten down by the world but just kept getting back up because they had each other to lean on.

Eugene hoped that one day he could have a relationship like the two men before him.

The three of them soon stopped at the entrance to the orphanage, none of them made an effort to let go of each other. Miguel was the first one to make a move but he did not let go of the child's hand, he leaned down on one leg and looked Eugene in the eyes.

"Here," Miguel said as he brought up a small leather pouch and held it out to Eugene. "we want you to have this." Eugene and slowly let go of the blonde hand and took the pouch, he didn't even have to look inside of it to know that it was full of coins. "I don't understand, why are you giving this to me?" Eugene asked in a small hesitant tone, this had to be the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him. Miguel did not answer him, he did not need to answer as he felt Eugene already knew why.

Eugene could feel his eyes welling up with tears. He then felt a hand on his shoulder, you looked up to see to that Tulio had also leaned down, with a gaze full of warmth. "Hey kid, if you really want, I can teach you to read." It was then that Eugene remembered that there was the whole reason that he had gone with the two men in the first place, he had completely forgotten.

"Really? Do you promise?" he asked, trying his hardest to keep his composure.

"I promise next time we meet I'll teach you to read that book. If you promise to bring it to me." Tulio said in a lightly teasing tone.

"Yeah, yeah, I promise. I won't forget I swear!" Eugene said slightly excited, learning to read never really appealed to him before but if he was going to be taught by Tulio then he would be glad to.

"Would you like to see us tomorrow? Same time early morning?" Miguel questioned. Like he even needed to ask.

"Yeah! Can we meet in the alleyway? I'll bring the book and everything." Eugene just couldn't explain why he felt such a connection with these two men that he had known for less than 24-hours.

"Well then, that's settled. We'll see you tomorrow Eugene, sweet dreams." Migule said as he brought the child in for a hug, Eugene didn't hesitate to hug the blond man back. When he let go he quickly turned and hugged Tulio, who hesitated somewhat out of shock before hugging him back.

The hug lasted about a minute before Eugene pulled back and walked up the steps of the orphanage, as he opened the door to walk inside he looked back to find the two men with their arms around each other waving goodbye at him, it made Eugene's heart swell and he waved back at Miguel and Tulio before shutting the door.

#Road To El Dorado #miguel and tulio #miguel #tulio #Eugene Fitzherbert #tangled #tangled eugene #tangled crossover #Migulio #Tulio and Miguel

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panda-noosh · 5 years

Text

everything was right. everything was exactly how it should have always been. the world was glowing for the first time in a very long time.

you were elated, leaning back against the bed frame with a lazy smile on your face and a half-empty glass of wine in your hand; across from you, Hunk and Pidge sat, sharing a pair of headphones between them as Hunk showed Pidge a video he had seen on Twitter the previous morning. you watched them, taking single swigs of your wine as you recalled the mission that you had come back from only a few hours before.

you were sure you were going to die.

you had been fully prepared to die when you agreed to go. the details were horrific, with Shiro reminding you every few seconds that you didn't have to go, that he could get someone else, that he could go on his own if it really came down to it. he made it clear that this mission was going to be dangerous, that the odds of getting out alive were going to be extremely slim.

you had agreed anyway, even as Lance wailed and argued and protested in the background, even as he grabbed at your arm and tried to drag you back to your shared bedroom. he had looked at you – for the first time in years – with fresh tears in his eyes, and the two of you had cried in each others arms but realised shortly after that there was really no other way about things.

you would go, and Lance would go on his own mission, and at the end of the day, you would see what happened. you would have to accept the outcome, whether you wanted to or not, because that was just how Team Voltron worked.

and yet here you were, only a few claw marks across your collarbone to show for the mission you had just completed. that was where the elation came from – the fact that you would be seeing Lance as soon as he came home, the fact that you had survived, that the future you and him had planned with one another was not going to waste.

it was unlike any other feeling you had ever felt before, and you found yourself basking in it as Hunk and Pidge giggled amongst themselves on the seat across from you.

it was around 8:00pm whenever your elation started to ebb away into something closer to fear.

Lance's mission had been described as 'mild' by Shiro. it was a simple supply raid on a Galra ship – in and out with no issues. Lance had done them plenty of times before, always came back exhausted, but he always came back.

but it was getting awfully late, and he had been gone an awfully long time.

the wine was slowly escaping your system as you looked round at the clock and realised just how long Lance had been away. nearly a full four hours – surely he should have been back by now? surely it hadn't taken him this long?

you tried to calm yourself down before your anxiety got the better of you. Hunk and Pidge were still in excellent moods, and you did not want to be the one to staunch that, but you could hardly help yourself when you stood up and waded over to the window, searching the constellations for any sign of Lance's ship.

there was none. the skies were empty.

you frowned, placing your wine on the table before turning to look at Hunk, who had noticed your sudden movements and was looking at you with a raised brow.

“have any of you heard from Lance recently?” you asked.

“no. he went on that supply run, remember?” said Pidge, not even looking up from Hunk's phone.

you swallowed thickly; they weren't worried, so you shouldn't be either. he would be fine. he was Lance. sometimes he got so caught up in a mission that he just forgot to send updates through on the intercom; it was a common occurrence, and nothing you should be worrying about.

the rest of the night was spent on the sofa with your friends. it was pleasant, bar the insistent voice in the back of your head that was adamant in convincing you that Lance was, indeed, not safe at all. you kept your intercom in your ear, turned up to full volume at all times, just in case he decided to make contact – but nothing came through.

Hunk and Pidge eventually decided to head off to bed, a fact that did not surprise you. you were also exhausted from the mission, but there was no way you were going to drift off to sleep without the guarantee that Lance was okay and home safe.

and so, you bid them good night and curled up on the sofa, keeping a firm eye on the door.

it was midnight before he finally showed up.

almost as soon as he walked in the door, you knew something was wrong. he hid it well, always did when he was injured, but you had known him long enough to be able to tell when he was faking something like this. his skin was pale, his brown hair a ruffled mess, his shirt buttoned wrong so it slanted against his torso.

nonetheless, he smiled at you when he walked in.

you were on your feet in seconds, throwing yourself into his arms and wrapping your own around his neck, pulling him in for a desperate hug. he grunted, stumbled into your grip but hugged you back regardless, laughing carelessly against the flesh of your neck. the feel of his breath on you startled you back to reality, a much-needed reminder that he was okay, that he was still breathing.

“where have you been?” you demanded, trying desperately to stop yourself from full-on sobbing in his arms. “it's been eight hours, Lance! eight hours!”

“i know, I know,” he replied, running his hands up and down your spine in any attempt to sooth you. “i'm fine, Y/N, I promise. I just got a little carried away. you know how I get.”

you pulled away, raising both brows at him. “did you get hurt?”

“of course not.” but even the way he said that made your stomach clench in suspicion.

he must have noticed your look of apprehension, as he quickly pulled away from you and headed towards the kitchen, trying to keep that smile on his face that he truly believed made everything alright. he thought that, if he kept smiling, the facade would be believable. he would be let off the hook purely because he looked cheerful.

but that wasn't how it worked. not whenever you loved someone. you had tried the exact same tactic multiple times over with him, and never before had it worked. it most definitely wasn't going to work on you.

you followed close behind him, ringing your hands in front of you. he wasn't limping, was barely showing any sign of damage – and yet he wasn't right. he wasn't healthy. there was something in the colour of his skin, something in the way his words slid off his tongue when he was trying so desperately to convince you that he was okay that told you something bad had happened.

“so, how did your mission go?” he asked, heading towards the fridge. “Shiro told me through the intercom that you all made it back in one piece. I was worried sick the entire time, you know.”

you leaned against the counter, watching him. “it was alright. a few injuries, but everybody got back safely.”

“injuries?” he raised a brow, turned to look at you. “are you alright?”

slowly, you moved the collar of your shirt to reveal the scratch marks indented in the flesh. his eyes glowed with a mixture of anger and shock as he slammed the carton of milk down on the counter and rushed towards you.

that was the first give away that he wasn't well.

he winced at his own sudden movement, had to lean against the counter for a moment before he shoved himself off and strolled towards you as if nothing had happened. you raised a brow, heart hammering in your chest – that was definitely a look of pain. there was no way you had imagined him faltering like that.

“let me see it,” he said, reaching for you, but you stepped out of the way before he could so much as touch you. he grunted, slumping forward, even more colour draining from his face.

“please, Y/N, let me see it,” he repeated weakly.

“Lance,” you drawled, stepping towards him. “Lance, tell me what's wrong.”

“i'm fine,” he insisted. “look, them scratches look like they need bandages-”

“you're not fine!” you hissed, grabbing his shoulder and jerking him upright. almost immediately, his eyes lit up with pain and he cried out, slapping your hand away and stumbling back against the fridge. the shelves inside crashed to the floor, but neither of you bothered to care as Lance crumbled onto the tiles with a pained groan.

you scrambled to his side, whispering his name over and over again because that was the only thing you could think to say – it was the only thing that seemed appropriate at a time like this.

“i'm fine,” he said. “i'm fine, i'm fine, i'm fine, stop crying, please-”

“let me see.”

you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it open. the buttons burst, but you didn't care, couldn't care when you laid eyes upon the burn marks that scattered the entire left side of his torso.

your heart fell. your body grew numb. the kitchen became silent, no sound bar the sound of your own heartbeat ringing in your ears like a drum in the background of a song; it was in the background, but you couldn't ignore it. in more ways than one, it made the beat what it was.

you inhaled shakily. the skin had folded upon itself, tiny dots of blood captured within the creases. it had melted. bits of his skin were sticking to his shirt, and with you ripping the fabric away, some had ripped, revealing the muscle beneath.

“Lance,” you choked out, because again, his name was the only thing you could think to say.

“i'm fine,” he said. “it doesn't – it doesn't even hurt. i'm fine.”

“how did this happen?”

Lance shut his eyes, leaned his head against the fridge in a way that told you he had given up trying to convince you that he was anywhere below the point of suffering. “i went looking for you.”

the wind was knocked out of you instantly. you reeled back, folding your hands into your chest, eyes widening.

“what?”

“that stupid mission you went on!” he exclaimed, before groaning in pain. “i just - I couldn't just sit there, could I? Shiro all but told me that I should say my goodbyes. he was trying to get me to just prepare for your death. how could you expect me to do that?”

you blinked. “you came after me?”

“of course I did.” he shook his head, reached forward and grabbed your hand. his eyes scrunched shut as yet another wave of pain crashed over his body, his fingers tightening over your own.

when he next spoke, it was through gritted teeth, his eyes still forced shut. “i wasn't just going to let you – let you go out there and die. I came after you. I - I wanted to drag you out, but by the time I got there, the fire had already started and I had no way through it.”

“the – the fire.”

“there was a fire,” he explained. “i thought you were in it, so I flew right towards it. it wasn't – you weren't there, but the damage had already been done by the time I got out.”

tears had welled up in your eyes by now. you made no move to hide them, but instead shifted closer to Lance, squeezing his hand impossibly tighter.

“you stupid, stupid idiot.”

he smiled then. despite the clear pain he was in, the smile was genuine. you could see that much.

“yep. I said that myself multiple times on the way home.”

“we have to find you a medic, Lance. you can't just-”

he shook his head, dragging your hand tighter to his chest. “i don't want a medic right now. there's nothing they can do except put a bit of cream on it, and that can wait a little while. I just want to sit with you for now.” he creaked open one eye and glanced over at you. “i thought you had died today.”

you caught your breath before responding. “no. no, i'm not dead. we're both – we're both still here.”

“not all in one piece, but I won't dwell on the negatives.”

“Lance,” you whispered. “why would you go after me? why would you risk your own life for-”

“don't even finish that question, because you already know the answer.”

you closed your eyes, slumping back against the drawers as a sob broke free from your chest; the sight of Lance in pain had never been an easy one to look at. he was always so happy, always so chipper, always so positive. seeing him in any other state was utterly heartbreaking.

“it's because I love you. you know that,” he said softly. “hey, look at me. don't cry.”

you opened your eyes, but the tears continued to pour. Lance smiled shakily, lower lip trembling with his own built up emotions, but he hid them much better than you did. he leaned forward as best as he could, swiped his thumb beneath your eye before tugging you closer to his side – his good side. you made sure to shuffle away from the burns.

“i would do it again, you know,” he whispered.

“please don't.”

“i won't have to if you just promised to take care of your own life more often.” and you knew the promise was loose, that there was no way you could ever just completely focus on yourself – you worked on Team Voltron. you put your life at risk every single day, but for the moment, you nodded against Lance's shoulders, uttered the words “i'll try,” purely because it was the only way – in that moment – that you knew you could keep Lance safe. if he didn't have to worry about you, it would be one less opportunity for him to get himself hurt, or killed.

Lance hummed against your hair, tugging you into his side. “neither of us are gonna be able to keep our promises, are we?”

you inhaled shakily. “we can try our damned hardest.”

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giveyouyourgrin · 5 years

Text

Breathe.

TW: Cursing (a lot), Mentions of drug use

Chapter Three - What I Have To Give (in to)

The sudden buzz of his ringtone jolted Gavin from his thoughts. He’d been idly scrolling through the documents, looking vaguely for a lead or untied end that he’d missed when his phone had begun to blare an aggressive punk song. It howled insistently to him, the abrasive noise demanding his attention.

“Fucking hell, Gav! What’s that noise?” Tina emerged from the bathroom, hair dripping over her collared shirt.

“I’m- trying to- fuck that’s annoying - find my phone, I know I left it here- fucking somewhere-” He scrambled between the couch cushions, wondering who the FUCK he had given such an outrageously aggravating ringtone. “Got it!” He announced triumphantly, fishing it out from the couch.

“Fuck me, you need to change that ringtone. What’s going on?” demanded Tina, towelling off her wet hair and approaching. Gavin seemed to be in shock, staring at his phone slack-jawed. Tina’s eyebrows furrowed, her hand coming up to wave in front of Gavin’s face.

“Gav. Wake up. What’s going on? Who called you? Is it Paul again? I swear I’ll-”

“It was Connor,” Gavin mumbled, mostly to himself. Since when did Connor call him? He’d totally forgotten what he’d put in as Connor’s ringtone. He’d texted him once, to tell him to come to the office for the new case.

“Uh… alright. Why’s Connor wanting you?”

Gavin wanted to answer, but he honestly had no idea.

TO: Blow Up Doll

What’s up?

FROM: Blow Up Doll

I believe I have a lead on the case. Come over.

Come over? Gavin’s eyes flew wide. How had he found a lead so quickly? And more importantly, why had he called Gavin to come over? Wouldn’t he have just used his supercomputer brain to-

“GAVIN!”

He jumped. “Fuckin’ hell, Tina. What?”

“Why’s Connor calling? It’s your day off, isn’t it?”

He reread the two messages, eyes darting through Connor’s 11 words. “He wants me to come over. Supposedly he’s found a lead.” His voice came out strained and slightly breathy.

“Alright, then why are you freaking out?”

His head whipped around to look at her fast enough to give himself whiplash. “What do you mean?”

She snorted. “Gav, your eyes are totally bugging and you look like your heart’s about to fall out of your ass.”

“I- shut up,” he grumbled, throwing a pillow at her head. She ducked, laughing harder now.

“Whatever, dude. You want a ride to his house?”

He grinned. “Is this a guilt offer on account of you leaving me, alone and isolated, in this apartment?”

“D’aw, don’t be like that,” she pouted. “I’ve been wanting to move in with Alex for ages now. Just ‘cause we won’t be roommates anymore doesn’t mean I won’t still see your ugly mug at work - and we’ll still have movie nights!” She punctuated the ‘ages’ with a scrunched nose and an inflection like a whiny teenage girl.

“On second thoughts, I’ll just take that ride,” Gavin grumbled. He followed her laughter down the hall, a tiny grin spreading across his face.

“You sure this is the right house?” Tina asked.

Gavin swallowed, nervously regarding the house in front of them. It was large, surprisingly so, with a trimmed, expansive lawn. The front door looked slightly worn, but everything was kept neat - the potted plants next to the door looked healthy, the porch was swept and the windows were sparklingly clean.

“Gavin?” Tina prompted.

“115 Michigan Drive, right?” he said, mouth dry. She nodded.

“Alright. Pick you up later, dork.” She shoved him headfirst out of the door. He tumbled onto the concrete with a yelp. Laughter burst out from his friend. He flipped her off as she drove away, still chuckling.

Still on the ground, Gavin winced as he pulled himself up from the pavement. Shit. When did she get so violent? His shoulders hunched forwards, closing in on himself. He eyed the house, his bottom lip sneaking under his teeth. Legs feeling almost hollow, he approached the house. Why his arms felt unusually light, his head a little too heavy and his breath slightly shallow, he had no idea. But he steeled himself and knocked on the door.

The two seconds before the door was opened was mildly excruciating. Connor opened the door, and immediately Gavin was assaulted with the smell of… baking? He blinked, surprised. Connor was standing in front of him, one hand resting against the doorway. His midriff was ever so slightly exposed, jeans slung low over his hips and worn, grey ‘Detroit Police Force’ ridden up just enough for Gavin to catch a tiny flash of muscle. Connor’s expression was unreadable, his jaw set tensely, but his eyes soft and his hair slightly ruffled.

He moved to the side, granting Gavin access. Curiously, he wandered inside, following Connor down the bright hallway to the kitchen. He’d never been in Lieutenant Anderson’s house, and he was surprised to see that it was so… normal. Cheerful, with sunlight flooding the walls framed with canvases and photographs. He trailed Connor up to the small wooden table, nodding silently when Connor offered him a seat.

He couldn’t stop his eyes roaming, taking in the tranquil atmosphere. Huh. Anderson hadn’t really struck him as a guy who’d be… tidy. He distinctly remembered the Lieutenant’s desk being littered with papers, his desks stuffed with pens, paper cups and God knows what else. It occurred to him that the only one who would realistically keep the house like this was currently removing a tray from the oven.

“What’ve you found then, Detective?” he asked, the last word rolling off his tongue and popping out of his mouth. Connor cast his oven mitts onto the counter, the mysterious tray cooling off behind him, and picked up two mugs from the counter. Pulling up a chair, his eyebrows knitted together and his jaw tensed even more.

“As I said, I believe I’ve found a lead on the case.” he began, wrapping his fingers around his mug. Gavin realised he’d set a cup of coffee down in front of him, and reached out to take a sip.

“So… what’s the lead, then?”

He hesitated. “Explaining is… complex. I understand that Captain Fowler is expecting us to investigate the illegal substance trade, but…”

Gavin felt his curiosity pique. “But what?”

Connor leaned in. The tiniest smudge of flour hid beneath his jawline. “What if there’s something we’re missing here?”

“What do you mean, Plastic?” Gavin asked.

“Do you remember that Captain Fowler mentioned Android trafficking?” Gavin nodded in response, reclining and swigging his coffee again. “Well, I have reason to believe that that particular organised activity is significantly more important to them than they’d like us to believe.”

“So, basically, you think that… they’re trying to cover up their android trafficking… with drug deals?” Surely not. Surely Connor didn’t actually-

He shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

Gavin almost laughed. “No, it’s not. What the fuck makes you think that it would be?”

He pulled out a tablet, bringing up the files. Parts of the text had been highlighted in lurid green.

Gavin huffed. “I’ve read the files, dipshit. I’m not dumb.” Connor pushed the tablet towards him.

“Read it again. Look-” Gavin scowled, but his eyes darted down anyway.

“Supposedly, this man Sable Akers is the head of the ring. But you’ll notice every sighting of him is the same amount of time. The packages brought out are the same model. And they always walk in front of every security cameras.” He pointed to several clips. “Look- there’s even footage of them selecting a route that had cameras, as opposed to the one that didn’t.”

Gavin shifted forwards. “Like they wanted us to see something, right?”

Connor nodded. “Exactly. Not just that, but a few times, they even walk into rooms that nobody else has entered. Every transaction is almost identical. The only variations in any actions they take are-”

“The ones linked to trafficking.”

“Yes.”

Connor’s eyes flickered up to meet Gavin’s. He realised, feeling a string pull in his stomach, how close they were; both leaning over the tablet, shoulders just short of touching. Tilting his chair back, Gavin shook his head, ignoring the heat flooding the inside of his skin.

“That doesn’t prove anything, though. Hate to break it to you, tin-can, but this is speculation.” he paused, struggling slightly. “Pretty good speculation, I guess, but… we can’t prove anything.”

Connor sighed. His shoulders dropped, and he sat back in his chair again. “I know that. I just can’t help but think…” he huffed, frustrated. “I think we’d be wasting our time investigating the substances.”

Gavin folded his arms over his chest. “Maybe you should ask Anderson. Where is he, anyway?”

Like a flash, Connor regarded him with a calculating, defensive look. Gavin resisted the urge to writhe uncomfortably under his stare. “Out,” he replied shortly, after a few agonizing seconds. “He’s taking Sumo to the vet.”

“Huh. You, uh,” he tries, awkwardly, “You really did a number on his place, huh?”

He shrugged stiffly, LED circling yellow. “I wanted to help him.” He stood up abruptly, shoving his chair back and taking his mug to the sink. Silently, he continued to wash up the few dishes on the counter. Gavin coughed, feeling out of place.

“So, what’ll be investigating first?”

Connor shrugged yet again. “It looks like we’ll have to look into the substance claims first.”

Gavin shook his head. Despite the fact that it was all speculation, he couldn’t deny that the theory Connor had proposed seemed intriguing. And… and maybe, just maybe, he felt an unpleasant weight in his chest at Connor’s bitter silence.

For fuck’s sake. He almost couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but fuck it. “Well… we technically don't have enough evidence that the substance is actually dangerous, or illegal. But we are, I guess, theoretically more inclined to look into the… ‘ his voice trailed away. Connor had stopped moving now, just standing rigidly with his back turned to Gavin. “The fuckin’ - whatever.”

Fuck. This was a mistake.

Connor turned to him. At first, his expression was unreadable, and his LED still glowed that ominous yellow colour. But a smile unfurled on his face like an opened present, eyes bright and crinkling slightly in the corners. And somehow, the warmth flooding his body whispered that maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all.

“You don’t have to… give in, to me, Detective. We’re partners. If you think it’s a bad idea…”

Gavin made himself snort casually. “Don’t flatter yourself, shithead. Like I said, it’s- it’s because we don’t have the evidence for the drug case.”

There goes that smile again, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly higher than the other, the smallest hint of a dimple appearing teasingly in his cheek. Gavin wondered briefly why the fuck CyberLife decided to give an Android detective dimples (some weird form of seduction tactic? To get people to trust him?) but then was promptly distracted by the knock on the door.

“That’ll be Tina,” Gavin said, mind racing. ”It’s open!”

Connor turned around, picking up the abandoned tray from before.

“Do you guys want some muffins?” He asked.

Gavin blinked. “... What?”

“Muffins,” Connor prompted, holding the plate out towards him. They were still warm, looking surprisingly fluffy and moist. “They’re blueberry.”

What in the name of- “No, uh, sorry, I’m - I’m allergic.”

“No, you aren’t, moron.” Came Tina’s voice from behind him. For not the first time today, Gavin mentally cussed her out.

“Good afternoon, Officer Chen. Would you like a muffin?” Connor said, now holding the tray out towards her.

She grinned cheekily at him, taking two. “I’d love one. And so would this loser, even if he’s being awkward.”

I’m going to kill my best friend. And I will enjoy it.

“Well, if that’s all, Detective, I’ll see you at the precinct tomorrow. Have a good day, Detective,” he turned slightly, nodding and smiling at a charmed Tina, “Officer Chen.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow then, Plastic.” He snatched Tina’s hand and practically dragged her down the hall, ignoring both the redness he knew was rushing to his face and Connor’s bemused wave to the both of them, accompanied still by that smile.

“Thanks for the muffin, Connor!” Tina called, moments before Gavin slammed the door. He could faintly hear Connor laugh through the door. He strode, somewhat furiously to the door of the car before realising Tina had the key. She still had that shit-eating grin on her face and quirked a brow mischievously at him as he glowered by the door.

“Not a word,” he warned, her giggles following her around the car.

“He’s cute,” she sang, a little too amused for her own good. But sat in the car, she watched him for a moment, that stupid expression still on her face.

“What?” he said, breaking the silence. He’d meant it to be causal, but it had come out defensive and broken in the middle. She chortled again.

“He just didn’t strike me as your type, that’s all,” she remarked, pulling out of Connor’s driveway. Another small laugh escaped her, but Gavin just opened the window, grabbed one of the muffins, and threw it with unnecessary force out of the car. Tina made a noise of protest, but Gavin stared straight ahead, clearing his mind of everything about Connor, including his stupid little dimple.

“He isn’t.”

wow gavin so subtle ur so good at hiding ur feelings

ao3 link

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willofhounds · 5 years

Text

Whispers of who I was and who I used to be ch1

A/N thanks to everyone who has supported my white collar fics. This is a request made by Row (Whispercloud). This time it is a Chuck/White Collar/Batman fic. Enjoy.

For those who don't know Jones's first name is Clinton.

Neal's POV

His shoulder ached as he sat at his desk. The entire office was being tested on their self defense skills. It made him uneasy despite the fact he had not been called yet.

It wasn't that he was afraid that he would fail the test. He was afraid that he would pass it. No one knew that he could fight. Or even fight as well as he did. Despite his aches and pains he could still fight. Not as well as he once did but enough to defend himself against White Collar criminals.

Very few people had ever seen him without a shirt on. He was very careful about it when he changed. His scars would bring up questions that he could not answer.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end suddenly. Someone was watching him and they didn't have the best intentions. There was little doubt in his mind who it was.

Slowly he turned his head to look back towards the conference room and higher offices. Standing at the railing was Phillip Kramer.

Blue green eyes met blue. A triumphant smirk crossed the elder man's face. It made Neal's skin crawl just seeing it. That man was up to something. Even after he and Peter made up the bastard still had yet to leave.

His commutation hearing was in just a few days. It would be what decided his future for the next two years. Would he be free? Or would he still be kept on a leash?

He hid a start when movement appeared at his desk. The pen he had been playing with tightened into his fist. It wasn't much of a weapon but it would do.

When he looked up he saw Jones standing there. The older man looked uncomfortable. Given what he wanted Neal didn't blame him. It was well known in the FBI that he didn't fight.

Jones said carefully, "Neal, Hughes wants you to be the next to be tested. Let's go down to the training room."

Neal sighed. He didn't really have a choice. Every member of the FBI was being tested. This included all the CI's.

Peter gave him a strange look as they passed. Peter knew that he had been acting strangely since the order went out.

Who could blame him? He practically begged Hughes not to give him the test. Hughes had denied his request.

Hughes blatantly told him if he couldn't pass the test then they would find a teacher. It wasn't that he was worried about. He could pass a defense exam. Fighting was drilled into him at a young age.

What he was afraid of was losing his position here. Proving that he could fight just chose not to could very well end his time at the FBI. He would have to be cautious not to show his true skills. Just show enough of them to be left alone.

Hesitantly he allowed Jones to take him to the training room. Neal took off his jacket immediately then began to roll up his sleeves. This was what he wore constantly if they were going to test him it would be on his terms.

Jones inquired curiously raising an eyebrow, "That's what you are going to fight in?"

Answered without looking at the man, "If you want to see how I fight. It would make sense to see how I fight in the clothes I wear all the time. Rather than clothes that I would wear only in practice."

Jones shrugged, "All right, Caffery. If that's what you want."

Jones removed his own jacket and took an open fighting stance. To Neal's trained eye he could see the man knew how to protect himself. That he had trained as a boxer before. Boxing however was too restrictive to be much use here. To fight for your life was to give it all you had to throw away the formal training and give it all you had. Boxing was good in a controlled setting but not here.

Neal didn't give the older man time to strike. He lunged forward feinted left and swung right. That attack hit its mark on Jones's jaw.

Neal could see that the other was seeing stars. He might not look like much but he packed one hell of a strike.

Jones quickly recovered blocking the second strike. Neal backed away waiting to see what he would do next.

Jones didn't let him retreat for long though. He went straight in for blows of his own. Neal blocked expertly ignoring the dangerous twinge that his shoulder was giving off. He could push through that. It wasn't on the verge of being useless. Not yet at least.

Neal chooses to go at Jones a second time. This time he slips around the other's guard and grabbed his wrist. With strength that few knew he had he spun the man around and twisted arm behind the other's back. Jerking it up and pushing on the wrist be put the agent into a painful wrist lock. Only to follow through with a kick to the back of Jones's knee.

Jones went down and that was the end of their fight. Neal growled as he applied a slight bit more pressure when the man tried to stand, "Do you yield?"

Jones yelped painfully, "I yield, Caffery. Let go."

Neal did as he was bid. It was only a moment later he realized what happened. The Larkin side of him had kicked in. He could have seriously injured Jones in what should have just been a sparring session.

Neal apologized quietly, "Sorry. It's been a long time and I went to far."

Jones shook his head as he rolled his shoulder and rubbed his wrist, "I shouldn't have underestimated you. You have proven time and time again that just because you won't. Doesn't mean you can't. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"I learned from a young age," he answered truthfully.

Give just enough information to quell the questions. Not enough to trace it back to any point in time or place.

As he was rolling down his sleeves Peter said from the doorway, "Neal come on. We have a case."

That got him moving. Anything was better than standing here waiting. No more awkward questions. Immediately he left with Peter leaving Jones staring at his back.

Jones's POV

As he watched Caffery leave something caught his eye. Caffery's jacket was still laying where he left it. The fight must have really spooked him if he left his trademark jacket behind.

When he picked it up a picture fell out from the inside pocket. Curious, Clint picked it up. Anyone who had ever been in Neal's apartment knew the man didn't have pictures. There were artwork hanging up but nothing of him.

There was a betting pool about the man's past. 300 dollars on what kind of past Caffery had before. Considering nothing was known about him before the age of 18 it wasn't surprising.

He turned the picture over in his hands and started in surprise. It could have been a group of brothers. Or adopted some of them looked to different to be full blooded brothers.

Immediately he spied Neal the oldest of the group. He had a bright grin on his face. His arm was slung over a grumpy looking child. They almost looked as if they were brother.

To his trained eyes he noticed the difference between that smile and the smile he normally saw. It was less forced and truly happy. Who were these people?

#white collar #batman #chuck #bryce larkin #neal caffery #richard grayson #bruce wayne #peter burke #matthew keller

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jojotier · 6 years

Text

Slow Dance with Me

“JoJo… may I have a dance?”

Jotaro glanced at where Kakyoin was splayed out, long, curled hair lying in a halo on the arm of the couch. Creeping along the ground, slow and careful, were some of Hierophant’s many tentacles. The ribbon like, iridescent structures gingerly felt along the carpet, slowly winding their way towards a boombox.

“Can’t,” Jotaro reminded him, maybe amused, “Doc said my legs’re fucked.” Temporarily, of course, but they were fucked enough after the final battle against Pucci that he had to wear some clunky braces for all of six months. It at least gave him an excuse not to move much.

He watched as Kakyoin slowly rose from the couch, positioning his hands on the arm of it to give himself some stability. Kakyoin moved his head almost as if he could see, turning it in the direction of Jotaro and the bed he was laid out on, but there wasn’t any real sight to those clouded over eyes anymore. “Just light and dark,” Kakyoin had described to him once.

“Shouldn’t, perhaps, but since when did you care about appealing to authority?” Kakyoin teased, smile light and bright as it had been for twenty years. Twenty years and still going. “That’s not the JoJo I know- unless you’re trying to get out of this and leave little old me alone…”

“Give it a second.” Jotaro rumbled, slowly rising into a sitting position himself. “I need to decide if I want to.” Of course, he was probably going to do it anyway- his legs didn’t hurt, just ached slightly, and it wasn’t as if he could deny Kakyoin something. It was a weakness. Maybe the only one Jotaro had. And, fortunately, Kakyoin knew just how to exploit it.

Kakyoin knew how to exploit it, and he knew he was going to get his way, because Jotaro could already see Hierophant’s fingers digging through their modest cassette collection. They didn’t keep much, and much of what it was was rock- but his Mom had given them a cassette of some old fashioned slow songs.

Jotaro finally set his legs over the edge of the bed, slowly rising to his feet with some difficulty. His back still hurt like hell, and these damn plastic braces were heavy- but not too bad, all in all, when it came to mobility. Kakyoin beamed slightly to Jotaro’s left and Hierophant was guiding him forwards, toward the middle of the room. Star Platinum joined in as well, though he didn’t show himself fully- just moved a few pieces of shitty hotel furniture out the way and disappeared again.

The end of Hierophant’s tentacles found Jotaro’s arm, twining gingerly around it as Kakyoin slowly followed, in much the same boat as Jotaro mobility wise, albeit for far different reasons. The only reason he used just the one cane instead of crutches was due to Hierophant, holding his body weight. Jotaro wondered when the last time he’d seen Hierophant as a humanoid and not as a pile of ribbons was.

Kakyoin couldn’t bow too far forwards as he took Jotaro’s hand, smiling. “Here- now you can decide… may I have this dance?”

The track started, and Jotaro huffed out a fond breath. “I guess I have no choice, since we’re already here. In position.”

“Seeming like any stereotypical old couple, I bet,” Kakyoin’s smile turned into somewhat of a sardonic grin.

“The most stereotypical. The most stupidly sappy, too.” Jotaro could feel more of Hierophant twining around him, quietly taking some of the weight off. Kakyoin’s arm twined around his waist. “Look at what you’re forcing me to do.”

Kakyoin snorted, eyes crinkling at the corners. “If only our younger selves could see us now…”

“I’d punch myself in the face before anything could happen and you know it.”

“Oh, I do- it’s quite the endearing trait, love.”

Jotaro wrapped his arms around Kakyoin’s shoulders and Kakyoin tipped forward slightly, sinking his weight into him. He could still move his feet, but he only ever seemed to do it to get closer to Jotaro, resting his head on his shoulder.

They couldn’t exactly dance as they were. It was more akin to lightly swaying with the music, trying to move their feet along with it. Neither of them had been good dancers before the years wore on them, and now that the years had passed, they were all the worse.

Jotaro held Kakyoin to him, gingerly sweeping a hand over the small of his husband’s back. He wasn’t even paying attention to the music- it was vague white noise in the background. Unimportant.

There was new scar tissue, around Kakyoin’s upper back, from an especially nasty stab wound from some seinen protagonist that had come to life with Bohemian Rhapsody that had gotten infected. His left shoulder still had claw marks embedded into it from the winter of ‘96, which Kakyoin didn’t think to cover with the oversized t shirt that slipped off it. Not that he was able to spend special attention to every detail of his appearance, anymore- not since he slowly, surely, went blind last spring.

The only real reason why Jotaro took special notice was because now, since they’d survived and recovered from their latest world saving escapade, it was finally starting to show just how much Kakyoin had done to himself. In a vague sense, it made Jotaro guilty at times. Kakyoin was one of the few, very few, precious things in his life.

But he knew Kakyoin was a stubborn old bastard who wouldn’t have taken life laying down, so maybe it was better, in some vague, possibly fucked up way, that he hadn’t been able to talk Kakyoin out of it. Out of a lot- out of even more experimental cybernetics as the stand users kept getting more dangerous, out of research with volatile kids and their stands that helped everyone in the end, out of danger at every corner. Not out of Egypt. Not out of Morioh. Not out of Florida. It was all Kakyoin’s choice in the end. Who knows where he’d be if Kakyoin hadn’t decided all the things that he had.

Damn if it didn’t still hurt to feel how many times Jotaro had failed him, mapped out across his body.

“Darling, you feel tired.” Kakyoin whispered against him. Jotaro could feel his lips move against his skin.

“Mmm.” Jotaro hummed in vague agreement, resting his chin on Kakyoin’s hair. “Not in a bad way.”

Kakyoin chuckled, a breath puffing out past Jotaro’s collar. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just feel like it’s time to sleep forever.” Jotaro said, melting partially into Kakyoin when he felt those spindly fingers slip partially under his shirt and brush against his skin. Not roaming- just resting, feeling Jotaro underneath.

“Yes.” Kakyoin said, and when Jotaro raised his head up enough to peek down, Kakyoin’s eyes were closed. “I feel that way too, nowadays… only sometimes, though. I can keep going.”

“I know you can.” And Jotaro means it. Kakyoin had kept himself going for all this time already- what was another twenty years? “But you should sleep with me anyway.”

“Should I now?” Kakyoin said laughingly, but his mouth looks different. “I do that already- quite often too, Dr. Kujo…”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jotaro said, and it came out more as a sigh than he wanted. There was a moment of quiet. “... What brought this on?”

“Brought what on?” The song slowly faded, and another played. Soft, barely there piano.

“This.”

Jotaro moved one hand only to gesture vaguely, knowing the tentacles wrapped around his wrist would catch the movement. Kakyoin went silent for a moment, face turned away. Then, it turned back towards Jotaro, and if Jotaro weren’t in his right mind, he might have mistaken Kakyoin for peering up at him from under his lashes.

“Rohan recently has begun to mentor Shizuka- the invisible child. He asked me to come on stand business, and it seems like an interesting case… so I was considering going.” Kakyoin said, sighing delicately. He rested his face against Jotaro’s shoulder, eyes slipping shut. “It’s not urgent, and he said it wouldn’t be for a few months, but… well, I just wanted to hold you baby.”

Jotaro kept quiet, looking down at Kakyoin. He knew there wasn’t anything that he could say, if Kakyoin really wanted to go- but he didn’t want to leave Kakyoin alone in that. Not when he could still keep going himself. He chose his next words carefully. “Are you sure?”

“About holding you?” Kakyoin smiled gently. “More sure than anything else in my life.”

“No… about this case.” Jotaro said, hand skirting across Kakyoin’s shoulder. Across the scar. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the scar down below, on his stomach- but Jotaro had long grown used to the scars Dio left. It was the new ones that worried him now. “Everything with Jolyne just happened.”

“Yes.” Kakyoin nodded. “That’s true. But everything with Asha and the case in Brazil happened very soon after Dio. And everything in Morioh happened after the heist ring in Canada. Everything is quite soon after everything- but that’s just how it is. No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

“Doesn’t have to be.” Jotaro muttered, eyes slipping shut. He was even more tired than before. “Just stay.”

Kakyoin paused and, surprisingly, didn’t say anything scathing. He just quietly said, “If I do that, I might go crazy.”

“There are other ways to be busy.” Ways that didn’t involve near death. Ways that didn’t mean more running around. Sometimes, Jotaro wondered if Kakyoin has ever slowed down. Other times, he knew Kakyoin hasn’t.

“... Hierophant will get bored.” Kakyoin was avoiding it.

“He doesn’t seem bored right now.” Jotaro said, feeling Hierophant’s tentacles form into a hand, hiding under his shirt. Jotaro didn’t mind the stand’s penchant for hiding in tight spaces.

“That’s because… you’re here-”

“And I’ll stay with you.” Jotaro said. The cassette skipped a few notes and continued onto the next song.

Kakyoin’s face softened. He gingerly held Jotaro close, squeezing . “... I know you will.”

They were quiet.

“So stay with me.”

It might have been a well known fact that Kakyoin Noriaki had Jotaro wrapped around his finger- it wasn’t exactly something Jotaro hid, and even then, Kakyoin was the only person on Earth who could move him to do anything. But a little known fact about Kakyoin was- for as amicable and accommodating as he was with others, and as stubborn and immovable- he couldn’t deny Jotaro anything either.

Jotaro knew this better than most, and fortunately, didn’t take advantage often. But Jotaro knew what he wanted.

“... Just for a bit,” Kakyoin ceded. “We’ll sleep on it.”

Jotaro said, “That’s all I need.”

#jotakakweek #jotakak #jotaro kujo #kakyoin noriaki #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #my writing #fanfiction #fluff #slow dancing #angst #is it angst? is it hurt/comfort? i dont even know #the feeling i had writing this was indescribable #hjbjvkhbvf #day 2: dancing

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spnfeelsforfree · 6 years

Text

Operation Meet the Parents

Dean and Cas are the dorky, over protective, adorable parents to a 16 year old girl, and she brings her first boyfriend home for dinner:) AU. (probably less adorable than you wanted but also this request was made yeeeaaarrs ago and I just rediscovered this tumblr so like. this was for fun)

Mary Winchester’s hunter training wasn’t meant to help her sneak into her boyfriend’s room at midnight the night before he was meant to meet her dads, but it helped that she knew how to climb trees and pop open windows without attracting any unwanted attention. It would’ve helped more if she’d thought to text a warning before climbing through his window and scaring him to death.

“Shhhhhh,” she jumped onto his bed and clamped a hand over his mouth to stop the yell that was starting. “It’s me, calm down.” His eyes were wide as he looked up at her, but he relaxed and nodded. Mary let go and sat back, trying not to panic internally about the fact that she was on his bed for the first time. Also about the fact that she’d just broken into his room, but mostly the bed thing. “Sorry sorry sorry,” she whispered, sitting back on her heels.

“What?” he said, laughing a little. “What are you doing? Why-”

“I came to make sure you were ready for tomorrow.” He laughed again, sitting up and grabbing a shirt off the ground, one of many that had failed to make it into the laundry hamper. Boys.

“You came here because I’m meeting your dads tomorrow? They can’t be that bad.”

~*~

“You’re not going to be cleaning your gun when he comes over, Dean,” Cas said, not even looking up from his book. Dean paced.

“Why not? Scare him off the bat, so he doesn’t get any ideas. Then I’ll be polite at dinner.”

“Dean, this isn’t a country song and there will be no guns present when Mary introduces her boyfriend to us.”

“I should keep the demon knife on me. In case.” Cas put down his book, raising his eyebrows at his husband, who refused to acknowledge the absurdity of the suggestion.

“If we’re going to do that, we might as well splash some holy water on his face when he gets here, too.”

~*~

“You have to look professional, but it can’t look like you’re sucking up. They have a very sensitive bullshit meter. Well, Dean does. Cas… sometimes does, and sometimes is very naïve because of reasons.”

‘Because of reasons?” Mary pulled out a navy blue collared shirt.

“This with your nice jeans will work.” She scanned the floor skeptically, chewing her lip. “Are your nice jeans clean?”

“Yeah, they’re clean. Won’t you be grounded if they find out you snuck out?”

“They won’t, but if they do I’ll tell them there was an emergency and they’ll give me a warning. Probably.” She checked her watch- 12:15 am. Not too bad, yet.

“What emergency could happen in the middle of the night without them finding out?”

“Vamps,” she muttered, smoothing out the shirt. His eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

“Cramps. You might iron this.”

“Okay. Should you get back now or-”

“Nope.” She hung the shirt back up and sat down on his windowsill. “So, you’re gonna come to my house, and I’ll answer the door to give you a second to prepare. You should tell me I look nice, but don’t actually look at me too long or Dean’ll start like, sharpening knives or something.”

“Why does your dad have knives plural?” She rolled her eyes.

“Cooking. Focus, I need to get home before one.” He nodded like he knew what she was talking about. “If they’re awake, which they are, Cas will give up on trying to calm Dean down at one and he will go down to get some hot chocolate or tea or something else soothing and sweet, and he’ll peek in my room on the way down to make sure I’m good. You’re going to compliment Dean’s cooking, after you taste and enjoy it for a few minutes, and don’t make it obvious that you’re sucking up, he’s already skeptical of you.”

“Should I be taking notes?”

“They’ll notice if you bring flashcards with you, James.” She hopped off the windowsill and started pacing, doing a pretty good impression of her dad at that moment. “Okay, um… just be nice to Cas, I’m not too worried about him. And be nice to me.”

“Have I given you the impression that I’m gonna stop being nice when I meet your dads? Because I had planned to keep being nice.”

“Right, but like, I’m their only child, their precious baby daughter, and you’re dating me, so you gotta try real hard to make them like you. And none of your jokes.”

“I thought-”

“I love your jokes, but they won’t. Not at first for sure, wait for the second time you meet them to be funny.”

“Okay. Be nice, don’t look at you too long, like the food, don’t be funny. Are you calm now or is there more?” She stopped pacing to glare at him, and he put both hands up with a laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just think maybe you’re freaking out over nothing in the middle of the night.” She flopped back down on the window sill, crossing her arms with a huff. He stood up, coming over to sit next to her. “Listen, it’s gonna be fine. I’m gonna be nice and not funny. You’re gonna be their precious baby daughter who can break into my room through my locked window. Probably it’ll be better if we both get sleep beforehand.” Mary leaned on his shoulder, and he turned to rest his chin on the top of her head.

“I know, I know.” They sat there quietly for a minute before he opened his mouth again.

“So, how did you get into my room?” She stood up quickly, only avoiding slamming their heads together because he moved away in anticipation.

“I should get back, it’s getting late.” She slipped out the window and shimmied down the tree, laughing to herself as he repeated “Getting?”

~*~

Dean was about ten minutes into a list of things that The Boy could be secretly hiding (“that’s redundant, Dean”) from his daughter (“our daughter, Dean”) that would inevitably hurt her. Cas sighed and stood up, putting his book on the side table. Dean stopped pacing to look at him questioningly.

“I’m getting tea. I hope by the time I get back you’ll realize that you’ve raised a strong girl who can take care of herself. With some help from me.”

Dean scoffed loud enough for Cas to hear it down the hall and then resumed pacing. Cas rolled his eyes fondly, taking a slight detour down the hall to open the door to Mary’s room. He smiled at the sight of her sprawled out on the bed, still in her clothes from the day, with her books and pens surrounding her. Homework probably unfinished, but he didn’t worry about that too much.

Mary held still for a couple minutes after he closed the door, until he was safely back in their bedroom, tea in hand, and then pushed the books aside, took off her jeans, and tried to get to sleep before her alarm went off.

~*~

Mary hid all of Dean’s big kitchen knives in preparation for the night and let Cas handle the rest, namely hiding the demon knife. She then made them promise to be on their best behavior, with no references, veiled or not, to hunting or weapons or whatever the hell else. Also, cursing to a minimum.

“Okay, but if he gets smart with me, I’ll-”

“Papa, will you please tell dad to behave.” Cas laughed, pressing a kiss to both of their foreheads before going to finish setting the table.

“Both of you need to calm down, it’s just dinner.” She opened her mouth to respond, stopping when the doorbell rang. She pointed at Dean seriously, and he put both hands up in surrender. Ignoring the cooking knife still in one of those hands, she ran to the door. James smiled at her when she threw the door open, and she relaxed for a second, smiling back. He gestured to his outfit, raising his eyebrows, and she gave him a thumbs up, stepping back with a quick glance over her shoulder at the kitchen. He came in cautiously, taking his cues from Mary.

“He’s here!” she called, motioning for him to take off his jacket. Immediately, both of her dads left the kitchen, descending on the front hall like hellhounds. Or, coming to politely greet James. Hard to tell which.

“You must be Jake,” Dean said, reaching out for a probably bone crushing handshake. James, thankfully, didn’t flinch.

“James,” Mary corrected, resisting an eyeroll. Dean shook for a few more seconds before letting go.

“Right, James. It’s good to finally meet you.”

‘Nice to meet you, sir.” Mary made a note to thank James’s mom for forcing him to call every adult sir or ma’am for his whole life.

“I’m Castiel, this is Dean,” Cas said, reaching out or his own, less bone crushing handshake. Mary’s eyebrows furrowed a little at the full name, but she brushed it off.

“Nice to meet you.” Dean took his jacket and hung it up on the rack, giving him a once over while Cas distracted him with talk of dinner.

“Dean’s just putting the finishing touches on everything, so we can go ahead and get started.” Mary took a deep breath and let it out slowly, following them into the dining room and reminding herself that despite being overprotective, Castiel and Dean Winchester weren’t totally unreasonable. They would recognize that James was a good guy.

Dean warmed up to him relatively quickly, once they got started on food- James was foodie adjacent and knew enough to get Dean into a long conversation about the best place to get pie in town. Cas stayed relatively quiet, jumping in occasionally, but mostly just watching James. The way he watched someone he didn’t like. That wasn’t part of the plan. Mary checked for obvious errors- something to do with the way he was sitting or being respectful or something else, but James was doing perfectly. Everything was going right. He even made Dean laugh, despite her instructions not to be funny, but that only made Cas frown.

“Papa, James is going to major in theology and biology, isn’t that cool?”

“That’s an interesting combination.” It was at this point that Dean noticed his husband’s cool attitude towards James. Finally. Mary kicked him under the table and motioned to Cas. He shrugged unhelpfully.

“Yes sir, I know,” James said with a light laugh, “I haven’t decided whether I want to be a doctor or professor. On the bright side, that’s down from like, fifty possible jobs I had two years ago.” Mary and Dean laughed. Cas didn’t. After a beat, she cleared her throat.

“One of the other jobs was working in a plant nursery. He loves gardening.” Cas took a bit of his steak before she finished her sentence, chewing deliberately and taking his sweet time in getting to a response. What the hell? What the hell.

“You should see Cas’s garden,” Dean tried, motioning towards the back door with his fork, “It’s just about taken up the whole backyard. Supposed to be a little project, five square feet, but it didn’t stay that way long.”

“What kind of plants do you like to grow, Mr. Winchester?” Cas swallowed.

“Mostly vegetables, but I also grow sunflowers.” James nodded earnestly.

“Sunflowers are some of my favorite. I can never get them to take in my yard, though, something about the soil doesn’t work for them. That or they just don’t like me.”

“Happens. I’m going to get some more water, would anyone else like some?”

“Yes please, papa,” Mary said, trying for her sweetest voice.

“Yes, thank you sir.” Dean shook his head, watching as Cas got up stiffly and went to get the pitcher. Mary kicked him again until he made eye contact, and then raised her eyebrows. What’s his deal? He shrugged again.

“If sunflowers don’t take, what does?” he asked instead of offering an explanation, carrying on the conversation meant for Cas. Mary tried to figure out what crime her boyfriend could have committed to get her dorky, garden-loving dad so sullen. Said dad came in as James was finishing a list of the different plants he grew, including some he was experimenting with cross-pollination with. Which Cas had to be at least a little bit interesting. He poured the water in silence, though, until he got to James’s and there was a crash of glass against glass. James managed to save his glass from falling completely, but Mary wasn’t paying attention to that- she was watching the water in the pitcher deliberately miss its target and hit James’s arm.

“I’m so sorry,” Cas apologized in total deadpan, setting the pitcher down with a small frown. ‘Let me get you a towel.”

“It’s no problem, I can-”

“I’ll get it,” Mary cut in, standing up and going to the kitchen to get a rag. She only left James alone for a few seconds, though, and the relief showed on his face when she got back. “Here,” she sat down next to him and took his arm, wiping it down and pressing on the parts of his shirt that were wet to absorb some of the excess water. Cas’s frown intensified.

“Thanks,” James replied with a crooked smile. “Hey, have I mentioned you look nice tonight?” She laughed, tossing the towel at him and sitting back in her chair.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Dinner finished without further incident, and she walked James straight out the door, not letting either of her dads even consider coming with them.

“What was that about?” he asked in a low voice. “I thought it went okay.”

“It did, but, uh, I don’t feel well. Wanna get to sleep.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll explain later.” Maybe. “Okay?”

“Okay. Can they see us through any windows?” She shook her head, and he grinned, leaning down to kiss her. She sank into it, reaching up to cup his face, but he pulled away with a grin. “Better not linger. Your dad might come out with his kitchen knives and chase me off.” Mary laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Shut up. I said don’t be funny.”

~*~

"What was that about?" Dean asked Cas as they started clearing the table. "I thought I'm the one who's supposed to be overprotective. And I thought he was great."

"Exactly. He's too charming, he must be up to something." Dean put down the dishes he'd been stacking.

"I'm sorry, your issue with the kid is he's too polite and nice to us?"

"No. I think he's hiding something, and I think that means he's going to hurt her and she should just go ahead and break up with him."

"Ah. I have a second theory, if you don't mind: I think you thought you were prepared to see her all 16 and dating, and then she came home with a boy and you actually weren't at all prepared so you made something up to not like him over, because you didn't get your panic out last night like the adults did." Cas gave him a smiting glare, and if he'd still had the power to smite, Dean was sure he wouldn't be standing anymore. He grinned. "You're freaking out. You're the one who's overreacting, not me. I was well behaved. I-" The door slammed open with all the power of a sixteen-year-old hunter, and if Mary had the power to smite, the whole house would be gone.

"You doused my date with holy water?" She demanded. Cas stood up straighter.

"I had to be sure-"

"What, you don't trust my judgement? You think I'm gonna date a fucking demon?"

"Language, Mary," Dean interjected halfheartedly.

"You disrespect him, you won't engage even when he's talking about gardens, something only the two of you are interested in, you insult his major choice, and then you douse him with fucking holy water? Papa, what were you thinking?"

"I… I'm sorry, I should have given you more credit. But in my defense-" She was already moving past them and up the stairs.

"I don't wanna hear it tonight." She stopped halfway up the stairs and came down, just within their eyesight. "You think I asked him out without testing him with holy water? And silver and everything else? Who do you think raised me?" She started back up the stairs.

"Possession is a constant threat," Cas called up.

"That's what the protection amulet I gave him is for," she called back down without missing a beat. The house shook with the sound of her door slamming shut. Cas slumped back against the counter.

"It's possible you were right," he said, staring up the stairs like he was waiting for her to come back down.

"Possible?" Another glare, this one with just a little less fire. "She'll calm down eventually. Now come on, let's get you some tea. I have a feeling we're gonna need it." Cas huffed and started getting out mugs as Dean put the kettle on to boil. "I can't believe you doused her date with holy water."

"I wanted to make sure-"

"Babe, I get it. I just can't believe you didn't think to put it in his water and wait for him to drink it." Cas paused, staring at Dean's back.

"Dean, did you-"

"Course I did, you think I'm not gonna assume every boy she brings in is the devil? Hell no. I'll check for myself, thank you very much." Cas slumped back against the counter again. When Cas didn't respond, Dean turned around. "Babe? You okay?"

"She's going to bring more boys home." Dean laughed and put down the tea bags he'd grabbed. He kissed Cas's furrowed forehead gently.

"Lots of boys if she's anything like me." Cas groaned, pushing Dean away, and Dean laughed, going back to grab some honey out of the cabinet. "Don't worry, we got plenty more holy water. And besides, she's got pretty good judgement."

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #spn fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #spn fic #fanfiction #I don't know what to do with this lmao this is Not Good but I had so much fun writing it #and this is /literally/ the only place I could post it #anyway guess who's back after twelve billion years with a super long post

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kclenhartnovels · 6 years

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Fledgling Assignments

Taking a break from Raen’s backstory, I wanted to explore Fletcher and Merrick’s relationship that happens before the start of book one. Mostly because I don’t know Fletcher very well yet. So, here’s more kids from the Abomination universe.

“Fletcher! Assignment from the boss.”

Razi wandered in with a toothpick balanced between his teeth, his hands tucked into the pockets of his red and black sport coat, forever looking the world like a used car salesman, slicked-back hair and perpetual grin only accenting the idea. “Ready to get your ass back on the good earth?”

“What's the assignment?” Fletcher asked with a frown.

“What do you think? You ain't got the charm for sales yet.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt, smoothing down the edges and using his tongue to roll the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth. “Adem's giving you an opportunity to prove yourself. Bring him back some feathers, at least. You come back bearing full wings, and you know you'll have the boss purring like a kitten. He could always use more for his collection.”

“I'm going after an angel?”

“Jesus H., you been down here so long you got brimstone in your ears or what?” He held out his hand. “Come on, fledgling. Let me take you upstairs, give you the two dollar tour.”

Fletcher took his hand, standing at last. He flexed his wings, then folded them, still getting used to the new balance. “Last time I was on earth, it was surrounded by police and bullets.”

“Fledgling, last time you were on earth, alcohol was illegal and you couldn't run your car at more than 60 miles per hour without the tires crapping out. You should see Chicago now.” He grinned, and the pair of them were clouded in black smoke. “Unfortunately for you, your target's in Virginia.”

Fletcher took in a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes, he and Razi stood in the center of Times' Square. His breath caught in his throat.

Razi laughed, fitting on a pair of dark sunglasses. “Couldn't resist. Close your mouth before you start catchin' flies. You're not staying around here, but I thought I'd show you the wonders of the modern world before I drop you in Alexandria. Your target's a guardian angel, and he's been hanging around a ripe soul that Adem doesn't want the angels getting a hold of. We don't need another useful sword in the Garrison, huh?”

Fletcher was only half-listening, looking from billboard to billboard, to the arching structures full of glass and lights, to the cars sleek and stuck in traffic, to the people crowding the sidewalks. He nodded numbly.

“Oh, and before you start showing yourself to any mortals, we're gonna have to update your wardrobe,” Razi added. “You gotta drop that Capone look. You look like you belong in black and white. Fact of the matter is, you may wanna change your look before you go after that angel, or he'll laugh himself to death first.”

Another burst of smoke had them on the front lawn of a wealthy suburb, and Fletcher rubbed at his eyes. Razi tucked a piece of paper into his hand. “The angel's name is Merrick. This is the house of his charge. Don't come back home without at least a fistful of feathers and a good story, huh?” And with no more advice, the demon disappeared.

Fletcher sat down on the manicured grass, and for a long moment just closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling of sunlight. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, a lightness in his chest that hadn't been there since—well, not since he was alive, and not even often then. He leaned back on his hands, the paper crumpled between his palm and the grass. Cars passed on the nearby road, the hum of their engines and the grumble of tires on pavement soothingly familiar. It was like being home again, riding in the back of a truck amongst crates of bootlegged alcohol, a shotgun cradled in his arms and a cigarette between his teeth, trading stories with the driver about drinking with the boss, the man who seemed larger than life.

A car rolled into the driveway beside him, and Fletcher felt a jolt of electricity run up his spine, sending a tingle all through his wings. He scrambled to his feet, stuffed the paper into his pocket, and immediately concealed himself in the shadows of a massive spreading oak. The car parked, and a young woman slid out, swearing under her breath and slinging her purse over her shoulder with more force than necessary. But the source of his awakening came not from her, but from the angel that followed in her step.

That had to him.

Merrick was the first angel Fletcher had ever seen, but at first glimpse he wasn't so sure he was sent after the right being. He had seen Adem's collection of bloody wings plenty of times, but he always pictured them attached to the same sort of ethereal beings he had always seen on the stained glass windows of the old cathedrals, or etched into the Bibles they had hollowed out to hide contraband in, before loading into open boxes and walking them brazenly past police officers on their smoke breaks. Merrick...didn't look much like any of those. His dark hair had the tousled look of a sailor fresh off the sea wind, and his long limbs and narrow waist only accented the idea. He walked with a long stride, his speckled wings half-open behind him for balance.

“I told you that you should have left that fucker last week,” Merrick said to the woman, despite the fact that she couldn't hear him.

Fletcher definitely didn't think that angels were supposed to curse.

“One of these days you're going to actually hear me, and maybe even listen,” the angel went on, following her inside the house. “And—no, you cannot go back there and poison his whiskey! Goddamn it, Abby, no wonder Chael is worried that you're not going to make it to heaven if you're seriously considering that. I know he was an ass, but—” His voice faded behind the closed door. Fletcher released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

He wasn't so sure he could do this.

Only when the door locked did he pull the slip of paper from his pocket and open it. He recognized Razi's slanted writing, but he would have guessed the demon wrote it anyway, based on the tone.

Fledgling, a few things to remember. You control who can see you if they're mortal, but other demons and angels can see you just fine up here. And some magical assholes too. So don't stand in the open like a dumbass unless you want to get sliced and diced by some overeager angel from the Garrison. I think Eztli especially would gleefully carve a bit off your flank. This little bird should be an easy catch. He's very distracted by his job. Just wait for him to be paying attention to her, and get your claws into him.

Bonus points if you drag him downstairs and let the boss get a bite or two in.

Easy catch. Fletcher read the note again dubiously, then looked back to the house. If he looked hard enough, he could see shadows of his target. Merrick followed Abby upstairs to her bedroom, a pulsing white light near the core of his body, the beckoning curve of his wings bobbing with each step. Fletcher walked to the front door, then paused at the handle when he found it locked. He could practically hear Razi's voice in his head. You're a demon now, dumbass. In a puff of black smoke, he was on the other side of the door. He could hear the footsteps of the woman upstairs, the creak of the floorboards, and then a thump as she collapsed into bed. Music turned up, so loud it made the walls tremble and his head pulse. He craned his neck to look at the ceiling, the halo of angelic light just visible though it. Merrick sat at the foot of her bed.

Though the pulsing music, Fletcher crept up the stairs. He could see wings through the open door at the end of the hall. Just, what? Grab them and wrestle the bird to the ground? Fletcher looked down at his hands, curling his fingers some until dark claws appeared at their tips. He touched his tongue to his teeth, feeling the sharp edges answer his mute question.

He felt like such an animal.

His feet moved forward even as his tongue tapped doubtfully against his teeth. He crouched in the doorway, peering around the frame. Merrick sat cross-legged on the bed, talking to his charge in soothing tones as she buried her face against her pillow.

“Honey, you can get through this. You know you're strong enough, don't you?” Merrick leaned forward, putting a hand on her back, even if she couldn't feel it. “You're not alone. I won't leave you, no matter what happens. I promise.”

Fletcher took in a deep breath, and stepped into the room at last, a swirl of black smoke at his heels. The angel jerked, twisting to face him. His feathers puffed out like a startled bird, and Fletcher got caught in the deep blue of his eyes. Surprised, even a touch frightened, but Merrick turned to place himself squarely between Abby and the demon. His wings trembled.

“You can't have her.”

“I'm not here for her.” Fletcher wished his voice sounded more intimidating. Even Razi, with all of his slinking, could still make the hellhounds crouch.

Merrick tilted up his chin, and balled his hands into fists at his side. “Go on, then.”

For so long, he had heard stories of glorious fights against the angels. The Garrison with their shining weapons and inflated egos, thinking themselves invincible reapers. Adem holding up bloody wings as he told of their triumph, pinning the holy beings to the ground and ripping, tearing, reveling in their screams. He would appear covered in blood and feathers, bleeding from wounds so deep they exposed bone, but manic enough not to feel the pain. He reminded Fletcher of tilted hats and aromatic cigars, stories traded in speakeasies that made them all feel as if they could never die. Fletcher's hands shook. This angel had no shining sword or axe, and just stood defiant and afraid. It should be easy to take him. Razi and Adem had given him a task he could not fail, all in the deep blue of Merrick's eyes.

Fletcher disappeared in a curl of pungent smoke. The demon hid himself under the shadows of the spreading oak outside, and swore. Razi never said he had to do it in one day, right? He had time. He could bide his time. He could do this.

He had time.

[Part Two, click here. For more like this, check the Abomination Series Masterpost]

#writing #abomination series #fletcher #merrick #to be continued #angels and demons #razi #adem

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namjoonchronicles · 7 years

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Tumbleweed, Her #8 - [BAP] Noir!Au

The Mafia’s Son, The Fugitive: Moon Jongup

He wanted to run away. He had been dreaming of the day where he is finally free from his father, and his wretched plans. Jongup decided to live his life, his way.

Jongup didn’t want to be the mafia’s son. Jongup refuses to be binded with the dark secrets his family is known for.

And because he was raised in discreet, there’s so few people who knew about his existence. The man his father was friend’s with, the Congressmen; his son, and Zelo was those few people Jongup had contacts with. His father’s underlings are not to speak with him. So Jongup was used to be with himself. The only friend he had was Zelo, but even that didn’t guarantee him, Zelo’s true intuition. Lee Jaehan had wealth, larger than the nation itself. And it was all for Jongup and the organization he was bound to lead.

But it was the throne that Jongup refused to reign.

On a fine morning of a dewy spring, Jongup was awake before everyone else, creaked before the door of the room he shared with Zelo. He was going to escape. Zelo sat up upon the door being open. “If you stop me…” Jongup threatened, and Zelo cowered. Jongup took his backpack, shut the door behind him, he turns sideway to see if there’s anyone watching. Like the tattoo on his neck, the compass, he will find his own way out.

He will escape this broken life, and live the life he wanted to live.

At dawn, his father’s men realized his disappearance. Jongup barely made it through the territorial barriers. He had never left Busan before, and he’s about to. Suited man started to flock the city, armed and with a laser-looking eyes, scanning people around, searching for a young men the boss wanted alive, no matter what. Jongup inhales deeply and sprinted towards a stopping bullet train. Without tickets, he jumps over the fences and sped through a flock of people getting out of the train and just enough time for him to enter, before the door flaps closes.

The men his father sent couldn’t detect him.

“I think he had escaped Busan!” The man told his father through a phone call. Lee Jaehan threw his phone to the concrete wall and it shattered into pieces upon contact to the marbled floor. Zelo stayed put and witnessed the whole ordeal without a word. “That insolent boy, always had the beef to do things his way!” Lee Jaehan roared and the shrilling voice made Zelo shuddered. What will Jaehan do, to the naming of the next leader ceremony, this coming month? With his sole heir to the ‘bloodied chair’ missing, how will he face his members?

Jongup hid in the bathroom marked ‘Out of Service’. He had no IDs, no certificates, nothing. He only brought himself some clothes, some money he stole from his father’s safe deposits, some flip-knife. His plans were going smoothly, so far.

He sat on the toilet seat for minutes, hours. Wondering about his next step. He knows his ‘family’ is getting closer with each passing second but with no exact destination, he was forced to ponder against the view of the dull, vandalized cubicle walls to decide his fate. And as though the God had things against him, it started to rain heavily. Jongup hesitated to step outside the only shed he had found–the train station, but thought that if he had stayed any longer, he would have been found.

The train station had just been surrounded by mysterious black cars and men in black suits. It didn’t take a lot for Jongup to realize that it was his father’s men. Jongup held his heart in his throat and leaped forward in the pouring rain, stepping on a muddy puddle in his wake. A dozen suited men, glances around the area to see a suspicious young men. One of them presses his finger into his ear piece and with the urgency in his voice, he alerted, “Zero sight. He probably had escaped.”

On the receiving end, Zelo sat huffed in his black dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up his elbows and with a frustrated expression on his face, he rips off his ear-piece and threw it against the back of the front seat. He didn’t know what bothered him more– the fact that Jongup had successfully escaped the turf he had always wanted to be free from, or the fact that he had to waste his time, searching for Jongup, for him to take the position he had been eyeing for a long time.

Zelo was conflicted. He should be happy. He should be thankful that Jongup went out of his way to give him the position he had been trained for, for life. But he wasn’t happy. In fact, he was devastated. His life was set and he didn’t like it. But who will be there to save him? He knows Lee Jaehan doesn’t want him on top, how will Jongup’s disappearance will make any difference to the situation?

The rivals shall never know. Especially Himchan’s parents. Lee Jaehan will lose face. Without an heir, the clan is weak and can be taken over, at any given time. The news of Jongup’s disappearance will shake the dark market and for sure will exhilarate unnamed individual. Lots of unnamed individuals.

Jongup’s selfishness has brought him as far as his feet could take him. He woke up by the bus station, and with the sun peeking through the dawn clouds, he was back on his feet, heading to the city. Jongup knows that the only way to stay alive, to be in crowded places. At least then, they won’t be able to pull out a gun. Maybe they don’t have the intention to hurt him, but his father would be fine with his son, limping. His organization is more important than his son’s limbs. Jongup can prove that with the scars he had since young.

The dragon tattoos that slither around his back, the carving of Japanese kanji along his backbone and the scorpion on his right ankle. Jongup was ‘stained’. And as if that wasn’t enough, he decided to have a tattoo on his neck–a compass, and it was the only tattoo that defined him. Jongup fastened his bag tighter to his shoulders, and his eyes were wild, as to keep himself on his toes. He kept a steady but a haste pace, compared to others on that street. He stand out with his striking blue hair and as if he knows that will expose him, he quickly snatches a cap sold by the roadside when the seller wasn’t looking.

He placed them on and sped off, undetected.

But his luck ran out when a policemen noticed. They called out to him, “Hey!”

Jongup sprinted like no tomorrow. And because of his combat skills, and trainings, he easily snoop around the city. But the policemen were equally as good. Jongup had to smart his way out. And in an unfamiliar surroundings, he hesitated a lot. He goes into a busy street and headed west to a low-cost and congested apartment full of foreigners. He leaps off the rooftop, one building to another with the parkour skills he learnt from the TV. He rolls over the other building as the policeman couldn’t do the same. He accidentally placed his palm on sharks of broken glass as he tries to get up and charged ahead on the only door there.

But when he opened that door, another policemen was standing there and lunges a full-blown punch on the side of his lips. Jongup flown backwards with his back supporting the fall, barely. Jongup, born a fighter, got back on his two-feet as the policemen readies himself for a hand to hand combat. Jongup threw his bag to the side, and smirked. “…well, okay.” His eyes covered by the cap. The policemen couldn’t see his face.

Jongup is a skilled fighter. His punches were quick and precise and he always hits where it hurts the most. With just a set of punches, the policemen was grunting as he held his ribcage. The policemen then curled into a ball and whimpered, blood spilling out his mouth. Jongup wipes his blood with the back of his hand and retain his bag from the dirty floor of the rooftop and continued his uncertain journey.

He wiped his dusty face with his dusty hands and kept on walking through unfamiliar alley. And as he breezed through the semi-occupied street, he notices that the number of police officers were increasing. He hid behind an abandoned hawker stall to keep observing. One of the officer uncaps his cap and fastened them on as he starts speaking to his partner. They were both young, most probably rookies.

They wore glow in the dark vests in broad daylight. Their badge glints at the contact of the sun. Jongup peeled his eyes for an escape route. The longer he stays, the less the chance to escape. It looks like they will be securing the perimeters quite terribly soon. The officer threw his hand behind his neck and scratches them while pulling his collars down a bit. Jongup could see that there was a tip of what seems to be a tattoo.

Quite similar to his.

He didn’t waste a second but his actions prove to be suspicious because young kids pointed their fingers at him and alert the officers. And he was again, on the run. This time, the escape wasn’t as smooth. He kept tumbling over things, holes on the road, hustling through the unsuspecting crowd, falling over his own steps, as the officers came after him. His third fall was because he collided with an oncoming bicycle, he scratched his face, bruises already started forming.

But Jongup didn’t have time to slow down. He kept going. The journey dragged into the night, rain starts to drizzle down, and they’re starting to hurt the long abrasion along his forearm from the collision with the bicycle rider before.

Neon blinking lights on the side, turns on. It says ‘Pharmacy’. He dashed pass an old couple as they leave the said pharmacy. He climbed up the stairs in a hurry, knowing that the officers are behind him. He passed level after level of the apartment and with his enemies tailing him, he knocked on one of the doors there. He wanted to bang on them but thought that it would compromise him more. So he gave a subtle knock and thank goodness.

Someone opened their door.

You were surprised but Jongup fell at your doorstep. He was pale, bloodied and exhausted, he collapse to his knees and you had to pull his body in and shut the door behind you. Severed lips and abrasion covering his forearms, this person is enduring this much of pain. Scratches on his faded jeans suggests his long journey and it didn’t cross your mind that he might be dangerous. Compass tattoo on his neck. His electrifying blue hair. Who is this person.

The officers who went after Jongup, passes the door.

Jongup woke up to the view of an unfamiliar ceiling. He hiked in a sharp breath and he felt a digging pain in his chest every time he breathed. He came down with a fever shortly after and he couldn’t say a word. He was weak. The wounds caused by sharks of glasses that he set his palm on, had become infected and thus, made him ill. He didn’t sanitize it right away. You walked in with some medication and porridge. A glass of water in the tray for him.

He was feverish for days. And when you told him to see the doctor, he curls to his side, begging you that he won’t. Jongup’s only reason is because he would have been found if he did. His father has eyes and ears around the nation. Jongup realises that you held a name card a lot of time. And one day, you finally called that number. But when this person came, you told Jongup to stay quiet and act like he’s not here.

He didn’t understand but he was not in the position to ask more than he was offered. He was indebt with your kindness. But he knew that this Bang Yongguk isn’t just friends. The conversation suggests.

And Jongup knows one thing. That he sleeps better with you around. The absence of a mother-figure since young probably had made him tougher than he should have been. The lack of trust, growing up, must have made him desperate for a sense of security– all of which, you had generously given to him.

And as your relationship with him blossomed, he sheds his shell, bit by bit. And soon, he was crazy about you. He wanted to protect, to love, to nurture. To give back what he’s given. But you keep a million of secrets. Although the fact that he could have given up and settled with simpler girls out there, Jongup didn’t have the heart. Jongup’s heart wouldn’t let go of you.

He knows it when he sleeps last night, he heard whimpers next to the bed you shared. You were crying and you repeatedly say that you were sorry. “I’m leaving, Jongup. I can’t stay here.” You cries in whispers. “I can’t tell you anything more… the only that’s keeping you safe is that you don’t know anything.” You added.

Jongup woke up this morning to a kiss just like a whisper. An empty suitcase, and he knew that you were gone. But Jongup didn’t want to conclude anything until he spoke to the pharmacy you frequent to. But his options were running out when he saw the pharmacy closed. A week after that, two weeks after that… three. Jongup stared at the name card with Bang Yongguk’s name and he lunges out the main door of your apartment.

Yongguk didn’t necessarily welcomed him in a hug. In fact, he threw a punch across Jongup’s face the moment Jongup told him about your relationship with him. But it was the truth. You’re in love with Jongup.

Days gone missing: 117

Jongup stood at a train station he escaped from, many months before. And at the opposite side of the station he saw a disoriented and confused young lady with torn cloth at the shoulders. Her skin were scarred with abrasions. And Jongup was stunned. She ran her hands through her hair, and her tear-stained face were unmistakably, you.

You held on a black bag. Jongup’s heart paces rapidly. He wanted to jump over the barriers and get to you. You glide your eyes to each side thinking that you might be followed. You darted your eyes straight ahead and you saw him. “Jongup.” The name stuck on the tip of your tongue. Jongup eyes started to turn glassy.

“Where are you going!” He roared, desperately. Your eyes stinging from the pain of not wanting to blink, because you were afraid that if you did, he’s disappear. A child knocked you by your thighs, and you realised that you weren’t dreaming.

Jongup asked, “Why are you running away…” You blinked and the tears fall on each side, “I was born to live this way. Bad man’s going to take me away,” you cried, fighting the noise from your surrounding. He was so close yet so far.

“I won’t let that happen to you! You know that, don’t you?!” Jongup begged. You looked at him with pleading eyes. “I’m a very dangerous person to be with…” you whimpered. “I shouldn’t have loved you.” You added. “No–don’t say something like that. Please don’t say that.” Jongup’s feet passes the yellow line and the indicator buzzed so he had to step back. Trains from either side had started coming and stopping. But Jongup didn’t get on. Because he was certain that you wouldn’t get on.

But when both of the train passes, you were gone.

He hurried to ask the guards, “Where is that train going to…”

Pohang. They’re going to Pohang.

But no.

Your eyes were wild and your mouth was covered by hand. Your screams were muffled by the gloves. And towering behind you was… a blonde tall lad. “Now we know where he is, alert father.” Choi Junhong, no, Zelo, commanded his men.

Zelo made you as bait. He wants to bring Jongup home, no matter how wretched his methods are. All because he wanted recognition from Lee Jaehan. That was all he was concerned of.

Next: Part 9

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rxbxlcaptain · 7 years

Text

Hiraeth (Acts of Intimacy #4)

Author’s Note: And the Nonsexual Acts of Intimacy Prompts continue! Today's prompt, given to me by another lovely anon: For the intimacy meme: reacting to the other crying, please :)

How could I say no to that please? I’m just kidding, I can’t say no to any of you.

This is slightly AU in the fact that Jyn grabbed her father's holograph before escaping Jedha (Probably because I was yelling loud enough for her to hear me)

Other stories in the series: Previous Work // Next Work

Words: 2015

AO3 / FF.net / Below the Cut!

Hiraeth (n.) – A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

The Death Star is gone and the Rebellion is celebrating.

Jyn should be with them.

She was with them, in fact, up until the loud noises of celebratory cheers and the smell of cheap booze being passed from rebel to rebel became too much. The overwhelming presence suffocated her, pushing in on all sides until claustrophobia set in.

So Jyn did what she does best: she ran and hid.

Of course, she’s hiding in the room assigned to her by the Rebellion, close enough to the celebrations that she can hear music and dancing, so if anyone put half an effort into finding her, they could. So far, no one has. Jyn isn’t sure if she’s thankful for the space or beginning to feel isolated.

It doesn’t matter, because, in all honesty, there’s one person she truly wants to be with right now, but the only way to see him is through a hologram. The one Jyn currently has gripped between her fingers.

By a stroke of luck, some underlying section of her distraught brain had realized to grab the hologram as Cassian pulled her away from the soon-to-be ruins of Jedha City. Not for the tactical advantage — though being able to show Draven and the Council members the original message turned out to be useful — but to keep her father’s face, her father’s voice. The only piece of her father she has left.

The first time Jyn watched the message Saw stood right behind her; the second time, the message played for the whole Rebellion. Now, only Jyn greets her father’s glowing blue image. Only she hears the message addressed to his Stardust.

As it should be. The message is deeply personal, draws on emotions Jyn hasn’t allowed herself to feel since her mother died fifteen years ago. They’re emotions Saw discouraged, seeing them as nothing more than a tactical disadvantage; they’re emotions the Alliance doesn’t need to know she has, since they would be nothing more than a chip in her durasteel exterior, a weapon they can use against her.

All alone in the room that’s barely larger than a closet, by herself for the first time in Force knows how long, Jyn feels them. She allows them to wash over her, bathing her soul and flowing out of her eyes. Her sobs are silent, tears merely escaping her eyes of their own accord, stealthy and inconspicuous. Ever since hiding in her hatch on Lah’mu, it’s the only way Jyn has known how to cry.

After Saw abandoned her, Jyn can count on one hand the times she’s cried. Once was that first day, that sickening, smothering feeling of abandonment the sixteen-year-old had felt too many times. The second when her credits were low but her aggressiveness was high, ending with a dislocated shoulder she needed to set herself. Again when she became so desperate for food that she began exchanging nights in her bed for credits.

And now.

Now with her father looking down at her, filling the fifteen-year gap between them, bridging the space between the living and the dead. Father and daughter, reunited in the small, dark room of Alliance Base One.

A soft knock at the door punctuates her father’s words about the Death Star, and Jyn steadfastly ignores it. The triumphant rebel can leave her alone; she refuses to admit another weakness, the one spelled out in tear tracks across her cheeks, to the Alliance.

But the knock only rests for a few seconds before repeating. Words crawl under her door, their owner obviously hopeful they’ll have more success than the knocks.

“Jyn?” It’s Cassian’s voice. “I know you’re in there.”

She doesn’t respond. Her father’s message flickers for a second – almost, Jyn thinks with a half hysterical laugh, like Galen wants her to put him behind her and instead focus on the future, focus on Cassian.

But Galen Erso is dead – doesn’t have an opinion about what Jyn should do with her life – and his message replays, just like the machine is programed to do.

Cassian remains silent on the other side of her door, allowing the stillness of the room to be filled with her father again, until Jyn thinks he’s given up, gone away. Just like everyone else.

But, no, there’s another knock. “Jyn, let me in. Please.” His accent is rough on the last word, in a way she hasn’t heard since the flight to Eadu, when the prospect of assassination sat roughly on his chest. She waits.

“I’m not leaving, Jyn.”

She knows he won’t. Even if he willingly joined her on a rogue mission to Scarif, Cassian remains, at his core, a spy. And no spy lasts without an unending source of patience.

With a huff, Jyn stands. She hits the button that will open her door and returns to her spot on the floor without acknowledging Cassian at all.

“Thank you,” he says, softly now that his voice isn’t muffled by the door.

She hears him enter, the whoosh of the door closing behind him, but refuses to turn and face him. Briefly, she wonders what he sees when he looks about the room. The hologram, coming from a projector sitting atop a small, standard issue desk, provides the room’s only light. It’s more than sufficient to light up the tear tracks snaking down her face or to give her red-rimmed eyes a purple hue.

She silently begs him to comment on the former – both the projector and the data stick the hologram is saved on were stolen from Draven’s office after she was discharged from medbay – rather than the latter.

Cassian does neither. Instead, he sits down next to her, completely silent, his eyes, like hers, trained on Galen Erso’s glowing form.

They sit, only a few inches away, as message repeats again. At this point – how many times had this message just played? – the words are losing meaning to Jyn’s overwhelmed brain. The voice, so comforting an hour ago, loses its emotional draw, fading into white noise in the background. The sounds of the Rebellion’s celebration drift back under the door as Jyn sighs, leaning back against the wall.

For the first time since he entered the room, Jyn chances a glance at Cassian. Feeling her eyes on him, he turns his head to hers, meeting her gaze steadily. She watches as he maps her drying tears with his eyes.

“He would be proud of you, Jyn,” Cassian repeats his words from the beach with confidence.

“You can’t know that,” Jyn retorts, desperate to lash the pain in her chest out at someone else.

“Why?” His voice doesn’t rise to the bait, remaining even and calm in the face of her anger.

“Because I don’t know that. I didn’t know him.”

And that’s the first time Jyn admits, either out loud or to herself, what’s really truly been bothering her.

The thing that hits even harder than Galen’s death – because she had, for most of her life, imagined him dead, that he had died right along with her mother – is the idea that the man in this hologram isn’t the Papa she loved as a child. Her memories of her father are clouded by childhood innocence and ignorance. She remembers him picking her up, spinning her around, both in their apartment in Coruscant and on the fields of their farm in Lah’mu; she also remembers late night fights between her parents while she pretended to sleep. The man in the hologram spent a decade and a half entrenched in the hierarchy of Imperial life; who’s to say he’s anything like the man she remembers?

What kind of man was Galen Erso? If she had known him, if he had raised her, would she love him?

Jyn would never know.

“I’m being ridiculous,” she scoffed, more to herself than to Cassian. “I’m mourning an idea, not a person.”

Cassian stays silent for a moment, his eyes searching her face as it hardens into defiance. “Jyn,” he begins, his voice full of more understanding than she’s heard before, “Feeling the pain helps it to heal. Hiding behind anger won’t work very long.”

Jyn snorts. “I’m sure that’s advice you follow frequently.”

Cassian shrugs and lets out a small puff of air. It could almost be a laugh, if it wasn’t Cassian, if the situation wasn’t so serious. “I wouldn’t suggest following my habits of dealing with grief.”

They fall into silence again. Cassian appears casual, leaning against her wall, one leg bent to his chest and the other stretched out, but Jyn knows he’s waiting, observing. Keeping an eye on her.

The oddity of having someone watching out for her, having someone care, rushes over her. Is she grateful? Is she uncomfortable?

Vulnerable, Jyn finally decides on. What Jyn’s feeling is vulnerability. She feels peeled back, peeled open by both his words and his actions, so much so that when her father’s voice – the message repeating again – addresses her directly – Jyn, my Stardust – tears prickle her eyes again. Her attempts to stop them falling are halfhearted at best and soon the dried tear stains on her face have been recoated.

Out of her peripheral vision, she sees Cassian’s arm inch away from his side toward her shoulders. He moves like one would approach a wild animal, expecting her to bite or hiss at him.

Honestly, she can’t blame him.

Certain she’ll regret the move later, Jyn folds herself into Cassian’s chest, her face pressed into his shoulder. Hot tears still flow down her face, now soaking the collar of his shirt. He shifts away and for a second Jyn panics, sure she’s crossed a line. The room grows dark and silent around her before Cassian settled back into her embrace, his arms tight around her shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head. He moved to turn off the hologram, not to get away from her, she realizes with a start.

How long they sit in the dark, Jyn doesn’t know, but Cassian never complains. She takes comfort in the loud, steady beat of his heart under her ear, times the speed of her breathing to the rise and fall of his chest.

Noises of the rebel’s celebration, sometimes growing louder as a drunk soldier wanders down the corridor back to their room, slip in, telling Jyn that time passes, that the world hasn’t stopped around her and Cassian.

Long after her tears dry, Cassian continues to rub circles onto her back, and she continues to cling to him. He presses his lips to her forehead, not quite a kiss, before breaking their silence. “I’m going to turn on a light, okay?”

She nods, releasing her hold on his back to let him up. When he returns, she expects him to stay a few inches away, like he did when he first came in the room, but, instead, he pulls her close, his arm back around her shoulder. His throat moves briefly, like he intends to say something, but stays quiet in the end.

“Maybe we should join the others,” Jyn murmurs into his chest after a few more moments.

Cassian nods. “Bodhi will be looking for us.”

“I just need a minute to freshen up,” Jyn says, picturing the horrific state her eye makeup must be in. Walking into the Rebellion’s biggest party of the year with red eyes doesn’t sound like a good idea to her.

“I’ll meet you out there then. Save you a drink.”

“I’ll be amazed if there’s any alcohol left on this planet,” Jyn huffs, getting to her feet.

“Jyn?” Cassian stops her, reaching his hand to her face and rubbing his thumb along her cheek bone. His voice drops several levels, his words only for her. “I do know. Your father would be proud of you.”

With that, he smiled, his eyes soft and crinkling around the edges, and Jyn, the fight drained out of her, can’t help but return it.

Just maybe, she’ll admit – silently, only to herself – that there are two people she wanted to be with tonight.

#nonsexual acts of intimacy #kat writes #therebelcaptainnetwork #rebelcaptainficrec #rebelcaptain #Jyn Erso #Cassian andor #ao3 #ff.net #galen erso

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xoleahbeanxo · 7 years

Text

Sanctuary: Chapter Twenty-Four

What Goes Around…

Annabelle lounged in her chair rubbing her thigh right below the old bullet wound there. It had been hurting more than usual of late. No doubt from the change in the weather. It was cooling down and winter was upon them. Soon it would be the shorter days and long nights of staying indoors and trying to fight off the winter malaise.

“Death to tyrants who levee such evil conditions upon our people,” Mouse called out as she brought her wooden sword down upon Grace’s.

The clacking of wood filled the meadow near the barn. Maximus appeared out of nowhere. His fast and agile twelve-year-old body had been conditioned for this type of play. He attacked his mother with a clever savagery that put Mouse on the defensive. She laughed and parried away in enough time to block a swipe from Grace, who cackled and was forced to fight off her own daughter who was just as ferocious as she was at her age.

Maximus’s silver fur was splotched with orange and slick with sweat from the extensive play session. His hazel eyes were keen just like the other fox that bore his name. Annabelle could see so much of her father in him. Right down to his long hair that escaped his ponytail and now clung to his forehead sweaty forehead.

Bernadette was much the same. She favored Max as well. Her muzzle was broader than most foxes but still narrower than a hyena’s. Her mother’s side showed more in her square shoulders and thick torso. Her peach colored fur grew thicker than her mother’s and was spotted with tan spots. She kept her brown hair trim in the same lazy Mohawk her mother did. Her bangs danced around her crystal blue eyes. It was uncanny how much of Max existed in them both. For that, Annabelle and Grace were grateful. The world needed another Max.

“I shall have your guts for garters.” A gruffer female voice called out.

Mariah was older than the both of them. Karish had sent her to visit the manor whenever there was government unrest in the hyena nation. Though Annabelle suspected there was more to it than that. Mariah spent more time living in the Manor than she did amongst her own people. Not that the vixen minded. Mariah may be more rough and tumble than the others but she was a good kid nonetheless.

The cream colored hyena pushed past Grace and brought her wooden axe down on Maximus’s sword but he wasn’t about to be put off. He quickly sent her on the defensive with a masterful parry and chased her. They giggled and she defended with a cheating tactic. She blocked and gripped his tunic collar before pulling him into a peck on the lips. Maximus immediately discarded his weapon to wipe his mouth.

“No fair, you git.” Maximus spat on the grass.

“Maxie!” Mouse snapped.

“But, did you see what she did.”

Mouse simply shook her head, the scolding look in her eyes.

Maximus’s ears slipped back against his head. “Sorry mama.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Mouse fought the urge to smile.

Maximus turned to look at the taller hyena, who was just tickled by the incoming apology. But the young fox just stared down the snickering hyena before he kicked his sword up, catching the hilt and threw himself back into the fray. Mariah met him head on in battle, neither of them willing to yield.

Annabelle looked at Mouse and they both shared a giggle. Mouse joined in once again, facing off against the hyena-fox girl. Annabelle watched as the two clashed their wooden swords, amazed at how focused Bernadette was becoming with her martial skills. The vixen attention was immediately stolen by a soft tug at her shirt sleeve.

“Eleonore, why are you up here? You should be playing with your others.” Annabelle lulled her head around to look at the shy eight-year-old girl.

The white vixen with the platinum blond hair and green eyes was everything her father was, which wasn’t bad. Lyonel was an attractive specimen even by fox standards. Annabelle remembered the look on his face when he requested his favor from her and Annabelle fired back with a very similar request.

Lyonel wanted a child, one that he and Loky could raise together. Annabelle would serve as the mother and he, of course, would be the father. Much the same as the ritual she’d experienced in the Mother’s Den, except this time Mouse was the one to administer the treatment, which they both greatly enjoyed. When Lyonel’s child was born, Annabelle had requested another sample from him, one that would later grow to be Eleonore. Lyonel was honored to be the father of her child.

“They play too rough.” The little girl rested her chin on Annabelle’s arm.

“I know, sweetie. Eventually, you’ll have to get over this fear of rough housing. They’re only a little bit bigger than you.” Annabelle ran her fingers through the girl’s long straight hair.

“I know, mommy.”

Annabelle was putty to those beautiful green eyes. “Very well, go into the kitchen and see if Auntie Charlotte and Auntie Lucie need any help.”

“Aye aye, mommy.”

Annabelle giggled at the little girl’s playful salute and watched as she ran back towards the house. Annabelle winced at the throbbing in her leg as she used her cane to get to her feet. Twenty-nine years old and she looked like an old woman leaning on her cane for support. It was only during the winter time, she reminded herself. During the warmer weather, she was as spry as they come.

A flash appeared out of the corner of her eye and lingered for only a second. It was gone as soon as she looked to see what it was. The wisp still haunted her all these years later. All the other wisps in the manor had gone from this place long ago. But this one would never fade; never find its way home.

“Persistent as always.” She chuckled as it swooped in to dance in her face.

There was something frantic about the way it danced. She’d never seen it act this way before. It was close enough that she could feel the unearthly chill against her nose. She almost stumbled back over her chair but managed to keep standing. It was the strangest sensation she’d felt in a long time. It just hovered in front of her frantically bobbing and throbbing brighter.

“What has gotten into you?”

Just like that, it flew away, and all that was left in the vixen’s field of vision was a cloaked figure walking up through the meadow. Its pace was slow and it used a walking stick to keep from falling over. The clacking of swords stopped as Grace and Mouse followed Annabelle’s gaze to the stranger.

“Get the children back,” Annabelle ordered. A chill ran up her spine.

Marybeth, who’d been lying quietly behind her in the grass, was up and moving towards the children. The old wolf would forever be their protector until the day she ceased to breathe. Annabelle walked out to meet this wanderer who was unknowingly trespassing on their land. When Mouse moved to join her, the vixen halted her with a wave of her hand.

Mouse knew full well that she was the stronger of them now and the only one with the capability to defend the children in the case of anything happening. If this stranger meant ill will then it would be Mouse’s job to protect the family.

Annabelle stopped a good few feet away from the stranger and leaned on her cane. She took solace in the fact that there was a blade hidden inside its hollow casing and she knew how to use it. The figure slowed its steps as well and fought to catch its ragged breath.

“This land belongs to Duchess Thornehall. State your business.” Annabelle’s voice was as commanding and captivating as Max’s had been when he meant business.

“This seems familiar, doesn’t it,” The figure pulled his hood back to reveal a very old and very grizzled looking cougar. “Little bird?”

Annabelle hid her surprise well but not her disgust. “Bailey?”

“It’s sweet you remember me after all these years.” He coughed into the rusted remains of his robotic hand. A gift Max had given him a long time ago.

“You have no jurisdiction here. Leave now.” Annabelle hefted the cane in her hand, gripping the head of the cane in her other hand.

“Jurisdiction,” Bailey cackled and reached up to grip the tin star on his chest. He pulled it off and dropped it to the grass at his feet before stepping on it. “I don’t dance to the fiddle anymore. I’ve only come here for one purpose.”

Annabelle took a shallow breath and smiled. “It’s funny how things go back to the start.”

“Yeah, except this time, it’s gonna end the right way.” Bailey flipped his battered trench coat out and drew his flint lock pistol.

Annabelle didn’t flinch, even amidst the loud crack of the gun powder igniting. To whatever end came, Annabelle was ready to accept it -almost ready, anyway. The lead ball pieced and dug deep…

But not nearly as deep as the blade that followed after. Mouse’s small figure came out of nowhere. The blade struck true and sunk deeply into the Sheriff’s stomach all the way to the hilt. Mouse made sure to grip the man’s collar to keep his eyes level with hers. She wanted to make sure he was suffering. And he was.

“You,” Blood bubbled from the man’s lips as his eyes slowly started to drift close.

“You look at me.” Mouse hissed and shook him.

Bailey grunted and opened his eyes again. His breath caught in his throat and came out in a wheeze. She could see that his vision was fading; it was something she’d seen on the battlefield a million times before. Bailey wasn’t long for this world.

Mouse started talking; she kept the blade firmly embedded in him. “I-in my life, I’ve seen monsters take the flesh of the living. I’ve seen the dead return from the grave. I’ve seen another world, another plane of existence. I’ve seen all of these things but never have I seen something so disgusting and pathetic as you.”

Bailey smiled, a ribbon of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad I made an impression on you,” He started cackling, blood spattering Mouse’s face.

Mouse flinched and pulled her sword out of him, letting him fall to the ground. He groaned and convulsed as few times before he settled back. He was dying, choking on his own blood and Mouse watched in wide-eyed horror. Not because he was dying, she’d seen that a hundred times before. No, she was horrified at how right he was. Bailey, in a sense, had started all of this. He’d been an enemy before they’d even known he was a villain.

He’d terrorized Annabelle, nearly raped her. He’d destroyed the manor, taking away their safe haven from the world. And now, the old man made one more attempt to steal Annabelle away from Mouse. The impression he left ran deep and now it ran deeper still. The impression had spread even to the next generation of Annabelle’s family.

“Shit! Annabelle, talk to me.” Grace said.

Mouse’s heart leaped to her throat. She turned to see Grace kneeling on the ground with Annabelle clutched in her arms. Maximus and Mariah were at her side. Marybeth stood a few feet away, tears running down her face.

Slowly Mouse knelt down on the ground next to Annabelle. There was blood all down the front of her and the vixen was holding her stomach. Blood pooled from between her fingers and her breathing was labored.

“Annabelle!” Mouse whimpered.

“Bastard, I wish he’d stop shooting me.” Annabelle tried to laugh but her breath was caught in her throat.

“He won’t be shooting anyone anymore, I made sure of it.” Mouse reassured her, trying to keep her fear in check.

“That’s the girl I know and love.” Annabelle swallowed hard.

“Is she gonna-” Maximus asked, tears running down his face.

“Die? Don’t be foolish, boy.” Grace snapped without thinking. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

“Not a hell of a lot tougher, this hurts.” Annabelle squirmed, immediately regretting doing it.

Just beyond the gates to the garden, Gilda came sprinting at a speed that would make Sarah proud. Just behind her, Rebecca was fighting to keep up. The pair dropped down in the grass next to the group. The antelope brought her medical satchel and wasted no time tearing it open.

Gilda was firm about getting the children away while she worked. Begrudgingly, Mouse gathered them up and told them to wait in the barn until further notice. Mouse didn’t want to be away from her wife but knew that it couldn’t be helped. Things were in the hands of the most capable person she knew. Annabelle was going to be alright.

Gilda brought out a compress and pressed it onto the wound at Annabelle’s side. “We have to get her in the house. Rebecca, there should be a sheet in my bag. Marybeth, Grace, I need you to lift her up.”

“Got it!” Marybeth didn’t wait for the sheet or the hyena’s help. Instead, she lifted the vixen like a baby and carried her back towards the manor.

Mouse watched from the barn do as they disappeared back into the garden. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched them go. A pair of warm arms fell upon her and Mouse turned to see Maximus pushing his face against her chest, crying. The boy almost never cried, it was surprising and heartbreaking sight at the same time.

“Easy sweetie.” Mouse pressed a kiss against the side of his head and hugged back.

Mariah moved to join in the hug. The larger hyena was almost the same height at Mouse and easily twice her size. But she looked incredibly young now, with her sad sympathetic face. Mouse could see she’d been crying, though the hyena girl was more tactful about not showing it.

“Is mama going to be alright?” Maximus asked.

Mouse pushed another kiss to the top of his head, trying to stall long enough to clear the lump from her throat. She knew, right now, she needed to be strong for them. Worrying the children would only make matters worse.

“She’ll be fine,” A small voice came from the door as it creaked open.

Bernadette stepped inside with a shy look on her face. The redness in her eyes showed that she’d been crying as well but now there was a calm composure in her face. When Mouse saw her, she couldn’t believe that she hadn’t noticed she’d been missing from the other kids. It wasn’t like Bernadette was easy to miss either.

“Where did you get off too?” Mouse’s voice trembled as she held out her hand to the small girl.

The hyena-fox ran up and pushed her head into Mouse’s hand. “I was talking to my friend about Anna.”

“Your friend?” Mouse mused.

“Yeah, she has this weird floating ball friend that she talks too,” Mariah grunted, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Its name is Max.” Little Maximus sniffled and looked at Bernadette admonishingly.

“After you, Maxie?” Mouse giggled and playfully tossed the boy’s hair.

“No, his name is Max and he was once lord of the manor. He said Auntie Anna’s going to be just fine.” Bernadette said with conviction in her voice.

Mouse’s smile faded away. “What did you say?”

#Sanctuary #Safehaven3 #Leendenwrites

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