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#apparently actually starving children wasn’t enough for them huh
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it's only tuesday and the tories have already issued manchester a poverty sentence
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finleycannotdraw · 3 years
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Guess what? I’m re-binge-reading Good Omens. And here are some Obervations that I forgot about and some things I might put in fics. Also things I found funny. Basically my dumb commentary on the book.
Crowley actually flees Sister Mary. He doesn’t saunter vaguely away. He flees.
Ligur is rather more thoughtful than he’s portrayed in the show
Anathema likes to read about herself, and her teachers are confused because she spells words like Agnes Nutter
Crowley apologizes
By page 41, it is mentioned at least twice that Aziraphale and Crowley Do Not choose each other’s company for any reason other than that they are constants, that they have an Arrangement, and that they are Friends because being Enemies got boring.
Aziraphale blushes!!!!!!
The Drunk Scene is fuckin hilarious and it’s actually a lot longer than it is in the show, and really you ought to read it. (Book pages 47-50)
My mom (who has a PhD in human development) would probably like to talk to Crowley about upbringing because they seem to agree on how important it is
War has always looked 25, and had a vulture that died of fatty degeneration
Pollution is very cleverly compared to actual pollution
Warlock has Kermit the frog overalls, and Nanny Ashtoreth is described as someone who “advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines”. The tutors are present for about four paragraphs. Warlock is good at math and likes banana flavored bubblegum.
Crowley has a slice of angel cake. Aziraphale eats it. Aziraphale also eats deviled eggs. Hm.
Crowley calls Aziraphale angel casually enough to suggest he’s been doing it for a long time
Some girl at Warlock’s party calls Aziraphale a f*ggot
Crowley glares suspiciously at a gerbil. It is suggested that Hell has, in the past, sent hell-gerbils in place of hellhounds.
“Oh dear,” muttered Aziraphale, not swearing with the practiced ease of one who has spent six thousand years not swearing, and who wasn’t going to start now.
Adam and his friends play in a place called The Pit, where shopping carts go to die, apparently
Crowley is the first one to mention sides in the book!??!? Also Crowley goes on about how humans are more evil than Hell (but he calls himself evil—is he calling himself human already?)
Aziraphale yells “get off the road, you clown!”
“What’s a velvet underground?” *love confession???* “you wouldn’t like it”
Aziraphale is a bit rude to Crowley in the “flashes of love” scene and Crowley is less panicked about it
Crowley glares at the Bentley and it fixes itself
Anathema’s bike is called Phaeton
COULD THEY ACT ANY MORE MARRIED OH MY GOD
Aziraphale speaks like. Like ugh. “FlOUndeR on tHe rOcKS of inEquiTY”
“Thirty seconds later someone shot both of them. With incredible accuracy.” *cuts to a random pleasant story about Mary Hodges* *cuts back to where Aziraphale has fallen into a rhododendron and Crowley licks the paint before he knows it’s paint* dumbasses
Crowley does not slam Aziraphale into the wall
Crowley is actually pretty impatient and doesn’t argue with Aziraphale when he’s worried
“Nothing but dust and fundamentalists” “that was nasty” “sorry, couldn’t help it”
When the radio sings “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,” Crowley sings “for me” and then screams
Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’ll keep in touch, and Aziraphale doesn’t say tickety-boo, and then Crowley says “right” and feels very alone
the international express man is small and has glasses, and wears green woolen socks
The sword, which turns out to be Aziraphale’s, is described as having an aura of hatred and menace, which makes me think of how it could’ve gotten that aura from Heaven or from humanity or from War...
In the book Pepper has red hair and freckles, which makes it a cool comparison to War’s appearance and the defeat of War
Adam is excellent at slouching, apparently
Occasionally, as Aziraphale reads the book, he would very nearly swear
“He wouldn’t have said ‘that’s weird’ if a flock of sheep had cycled past playing violins.”
“If you had told him there were children starving in Africa he would’ve been flattered that you’d noticed.”
“...that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.” (151)
Wensleydale watches David Attenborough programs
Shadwell’s voice is described as “the color of an old raincoat” and seems to fake smoking cigarettes
Aziraphales cocoa is moldy and solidified by the time he calls Arthur Young, and has a thin layer of dust on himself too
Newt says that the walls look like nicotine and the floor looks like cigarette ash, and he suspects both are, actually, coated with these substances
Newt looks a bit like Clark Kent, and people seem to like Shadwell for some reason, much to his annoyance.
Aziraphale calls Shadwell “dear boy” on the phone
Agnes Nutter called God a daft old fool #goals
Adam is wayyyy too good at video games
Smelling Anathema’s perfume makes Newt uncomfortable
Adam suggests that Pepper ought to have Russia cause of her red hair (huh)
Anathema and Newt actually have decent conversations?? Like?? Show??? C’mon, man. The show kinda butchered their relationship.
Trees, apparently, make a ‘vvrooooommm’ sound when they grow very fast
“He suspected that Crowley was from the Mafia, or the underworld, although he would have been surprised how right he nearly was.” Shadwell also thought Aziraphale was a Russian spy. Wow, Shadwell.
Aziraphale calls Crowley and actually says “shut up” to him, and then when the answering machine beeps, he tells Crowley to “stop making noises” and then he swears for the first time ever.
The fuckin’ footnote on page 227
“A sleek computer was the sort of thing Crowley felt that the sort of human he tried to be would have.” I like the word choice here. He’s not pretending to be a human, he’s trying to be one. That’s a really important distinction.
It never actually says what Crowley does to his plants.
Crowley’s flat is very white. Wow, Crowley. It just looks dark because of the lighting. Heaven imagery and symbolism out my ears, goddammit.
Why does Hell say Crowley’s name so much when talking to him?? Honestly, I think that’s an intentional dig at his chosen name, using it in their speech to scare him. Wow, Hell. (And wow, Finn, excellent sentence)
Whenever the book says something is shaped like something, it definitely isn’t that thing. ���man-shaped” “dog-shaped” “car-shaped”... makes it pretty obvious they aren’t men, dogs, or cars, huh.
The code to Crowley’s safe is 4004. The year he “slithered onto this stupid, marvelous planet”... and the year he met Aziraphale, of course. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, Crowley, my dude.
Crowley consideres sticking Hastur into his car until he turns into Freddie Mercury but then decides even he isn’t that cruel
Actual text that I feel like nobody really agrees with: “Madame Tracy was by many yardsticks quite stupid”
“Do I look like I run a bookshop?” “...imagine me out of uniform, sir, and what kind of man would you see before you? Honestly?” “A prat.”
I’m crying. The fucking bookshop fire scene made me fucking cry. I’m literally crying.
“...on all fours in the blazing bookshop, Crowley cursed Aziraphale, and the ineffable plan, and Above, and Below.” “The police and firemen looked at him, saw the expression on his face, and stayed exactly where they were.” “...a crack of thunder so loud it hurt....” *the sound of Finley sobbing into their cat*
The shortest biker in the cafe thing is 6′2, what the fuck
War, Famine, Pollution, and Pop Trivia 1962-1979
“Pollution removed his helmet and shook out his long white hair. He had taken over when Pestilence, muttering about penicillin, had retired in 1936. If only the old boy had known what opportunities the future had held.” HMMMMMMMMMMM
“There were no bitches in Hell either.” I know it’s talking about female dogs, but I rather thought Hell was full of bitches.
“Why are you talking like a poofter?” “Ah. Australia.”
“gOsh, aM i on teLEviSiON?” (Basically Aziraphale gets passionate about stuff and likes to talk).
Crowley is actually an optimist and doesn’t dwell too much on how sucky the world is. He doesn’t go get smashed in a bar. He just finds Aziraphale’s notes in the book and heads to Tadfield. And also, his new pair of sunglasses just... materializes out of his eyes. And he likes to whistle.
“Death and Famine and War and Pollution continued biking to Tadfield. And Grievous Bodily Harm, Cruelty to Animals, Things Not Working Properly Even After You’ve Given Them A Good Thumping But Secretly No Alcohol Lager, and Really Cool People traveled with them.”
“on top of the pile a rather large octopus waved a languid tentacle at them. The sergeant resisted the temptation to wave back.” Honestly dude, if an octopus waved at me I’d wave back.
Wait Agnes was apparently talking to Shadwell and not God when she said yowe daft old foole. I dunno
Madame Tracy: You old silly. Shadwell: 
Aziraphale does not know how to get rid of demons. Canonically. “Had never done other to get rid of demons than to hint to them very strongly that he, Aziraphale, had some work to be getting on with, and wasn’t it getting late? And Crowley always got the hint.”
The road to Hell is paved with frozen door to door salesmen, apparently. The question is where it is, because the demons always seem to just stem out of the ground.
“Heigh ho,” said Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway. I love this sentence during that scene. 
I bet Hastur gets really mad whenever he hears Aziraphale’s voice from now on
Crowley isn’t breathing the entire burning Bentley scene
ADAM. SAID. “But I reckon you can make your own side” AND WE FUCKIN IGNORED IT?
The temperature above the M25 was simultaneously 700ºC and -140ºC which makes me think of something I read about magenta not being real. The M25 is magenta.
I feel like “Agnes” is just going to become an inside joke between Anathema and Newt at this point, and it will drive Crowley insane because he knows who she is but somehow still doesn’t get the joke.
I’m six inches taller than R.P. Tyler, and apparently according to the back sleeve of the book jacket, I’m very similar in height to Neil Gaiman
R.P. Tyler thought Shadwell was a ventriloquist’s dummy, and then sees cows doing somersaults
“That’s terrific. Much obliged,” said Crowley. — “Funny weather we’re having, isn’t it?” “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” “Probably because your car is on fire.” .... Also the fact that Crowley looks like a young man which I find interesting.
“The Four Button-Pressers of the Apocalypse”
“Where is Armageddon, anyway?” “I’ve always meant to look that up.” “There’s an Armageddon, Pennsylvania”
Famine is the one that says “that’s one big avocado”, and also, I find it interesting that War, more than once, talks about love. (All is fair in love and war much?)
Anathema threatens the guard with a stick, pretending it’s a gun
Aziraphale, of course, asks Crowley to sort it out because he, Aziraphale, is “the nice one” and then proceeds to sort it out himself. Because of course he does. Because what else could he possibly do.
I just ADORE THIS BOOK OKAY
I’M PROBABLY GOING TO READ IT AGAIN IN A MONTH
Aziraphale and Crowley are so fuckin married I can’t
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astraeass · 3 years
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[4] start once again;
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[cross-posted in ao3 • fem reader]
previous chapter
pairing: levi ackerman/reader
warnings: cursing, violence
words: 4018
Summary:
Erwin assigned your squad a rare inside-the-walls mission. Ending up being successful, you also try to end up successful on warming up your cold behavior.
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You currently stood with Mike besides you in front of your captain's door office, who asked for your and some members of your squad assist's for a 'mission' inside the walls. You had no idea of what it could be about, never being apart of these type of unusual assignments that required the help of the Scouts, probably just some dumb shit the Military Police was either not able to do so or simply were too lazy to care of, at least that was Mike told you since he actually went to help Erwin with a pair of them.
"Hey [L/N], you there?" Mike's fingers snapping mere inches away from your face brought you back to reality. You blinked a few times and then looked up to the blond who was growing impatient "Don’t worry too much, you midget. It’s probably the same as always, a little thief that drunk Garrison members can’t get a touch of" Ignoring his little comment about - his enormous height - your height you sighed and nodded. You weren’t worried about that at all, it was just infuriating that the Scouts, the regiment that already has weight upon their shoulders are assigned for simple but annoying tasks that the two remaining regiments couldn’t take care of.
Mike knocked the door and without receiving a answer at all, he just opened the door and stepped inside with all the comfort as if he was the captain himself, you understood though, Erwin and Mike were almost always seen together attached by the hip and your own experiences with them said that they were pretty close. You didn’t like to include yourself, but you trusted both of them plus the members of your squad with your own life.
"Finally both of you came, we were waiting for you" Erwin said after releasing a sigh when he saw both of your forms coming from the door, he already knew it was Mike when he didn’t even had the time to reply the knock in his door, and knowing Mike, he probably brought you with him since you were still as forgetful as always "Take a seat, you’ll know what we’re about talk about, right?"
"Yeah, that infamous mission inside the walls, huh? Isn’t it [Y/N]?" Said Mike with a teasing smirk adorning his lips while nudging your side with his elbow, you were so close to hit his fucking face. Already tensed thanks to your thoughts before about the incompetent military. Erwin arched one of his physically surreal brows and looked up to your still standing form. Seeing how you looked away, Mike decided to annoy you a little bit more.
"Just this little midget who could make a Titan scurry away with her glare is a bit scared of an insignificant mission" He was starting to hit your more impatient nerve but with a deep breath you answered him "First, I’m pretty sure the mission is not insignificant if Captain didn’t ask for half of his squad's help. Second, you can’t call everyone a midget just because you’re a fucking tree and three, I’m not scared!" Your tone got louder for the more you talked, and your face was getting even more red than before. You could have continued if it wasn’t that Erwin were looking at your bickering with Mike in disappointment, so you limited yourself on sitting on a random chair.
"Now that everything is resolved, I’ll explain what are we doing inside the royal capital" Erwin finally was able to start. Bringing what it looked like three pieces of paper, he spattered them on the table so we were able to have a look at them. On the papers, it was written information of three different persons, their physical description, how the currently lived and a large list of antecedents. But what it caught your attention is that all of them were part of the Underground, the city that surrounded the Royal Capital beneath its floor.
You didn’t knew a lot about the Underground, jus a few things you remembered reading from David's various books. Humanity tried to live underground to escape the deadly threat Titans brought, however the exodus was called off and the ruins of the old attempt of humanity's safety is not populated and formed of criminals and vagrants. The deepest sections were now slums, abandoned by the royal government, David told you that even the Military Police were always hesitant to step inside and now you understood everything.
"Are we really doing the MP's dirty job by catching these thieves? That’s pathetic, we have better things to do Captain!" Your anger coming to get you back again made you complain and stand grabbing the end of the table with force. You weren’t someone’s maid to take their shit off by doing jobs like these. Erwin lifted a hand, palm facing your face, making you frown in confusion and growing irritation "You didn’t let me finish, [L/N]" with that, you just sat down again, looking away in embarrassment.
"Yes, we’re catching them, but not for the Military Police's benefits, but for our own" He pointed the three papers that were situated on the table, the sudden sound making you glare at them "We'll tell them that they’ll have to joint the Surver Corps if they want some type of freedom. If they’re refuse, that I doubt, we will turn them over the MPs, that’s all. So read the information in the papers carefully so we can start and end this assignment as fast as possible"
It was a group of three, two males and a young female. Furlan Church, a medium-sized male with dark dirty blond hair and bright grey eyes. The other male, Levi who was rather short is apparently their leader, has short black hair styled in an undercut curtain, pale grey colored orbs and the only female, Isabel Magnolia a young woman with light green eyes and shaggy auburn locks that were usually styled into two pigtails. For what the reports said, all of them were exceptional using the Maneuver Gear, Levi however stood out the most of the three. So that’s why Erwin wanted a bunch of us then.
"As you all know, Shadis' and my request of changing the expedited formation was approved not long ago. We’re planning to use them for the next expedition, so if we capture them soon, they’ll be able to try it out too"
"We’re going to the Underground tomorrow morning, be ready by then" Erwin moved his own orbs to your, deepening his glare "And I don’t want anyone to be late, got it?" Clicking your tongue, you nodded and stared at the floor when you felt his intense glare on you. Tomorrow's gonna be long day
;;
You currently stood - again - besides Mike, however, this time you weren’t in the usual boring walls of the HQ but walking down the dark streets of the Underground. You knew the journey to find those thugs wouldn’t be easy, but didn’t expect to be this complicated. Firstly, you learn that being woman here is not easy, you hated the disgusting looks filthy men were sending your direction. No, of course their glares didn’t scare a woman part of the Survey Corps, but you couldn’t help but imagine how a defenseless young woman could survive down here, and it send chills down your spine.
Then, there’s children literally starving begging for food or even fighting for it, you never heard that living in the Underground was this hard. Sadly you couldn’t help them at all and this for a reason left a feeling of guilt down the pit of your stomach and it didn’t help that the thieves you were supposed to catch could appear in any moment, right now is a perfect situation, when you’re lost in your thoughts.
Just then, a mysterious harsh breeze of wind made you jump in your spot, aggressively interrupting your thoughts and when you looked for what or who provoked the rush of wind inside a closed space like this your eyes widened when you met your objective "[Y/N], I’m pretty sure it’s them! Let’s just chase them with a low profile like Erwin told us, they probably saw them already" Mike said to you with a low tone and you just nodded and followed no far away from him.
They situated theirselves by attaching their 3DMG on the roof of the city and not far behind, you could see that Erwin was already keeping a track. Following Mike's movements, you regrouped with the rest of your squad. You were sure that the group of three already took notice of all of your squad so you just waited for Erwin's orders. About 50 meters separated your squad and the thugs so you weren’t able to hear if they were talking among themselves or not, but their rushed, annoyed looks and frantic mouths moving confirmed that they were planning something out.
Not long after, the shorter male of the group took the lead and attached his hooks to a bridge nearby and flew forwards the bottom part, passing through it with speed followed by his companions. It was impressive, to say at least, but not hard enough to keep the rest of us behind and actually, we were able to be nearer them this time. Once again, the leader this time decided to double back a rock pillar that was in front of us. You deduced they were trying to confirm if all of you were actually Military Polices, since usually your skill levels suppressed theirs.
Suddenly, the group of three separated themselves. Fortunately, Erwin always had a step towards and already assigned each of you other one of the thugs, with yourself chasing after the taller man, Furlan Church. He gave a sharp turn to your right. Erwin looked back to meet your eyes with determination, knowing what it meant, you just nodded and started to chase after the blond thug.
For the next two minutes, he didn’t seem to have the opportunity to escape at all. There wasn’t any type of obstacle that could slow you down and you already could feel the state of irritation coming from his presence when seeing that you kept coming closer. In desperation, he aimed his piston-shot towards a random house you hoped it was inhabited and fired the grapple hooks. You weren’t far behind so it wasn’t difficult to determine what he was about to do from your camp of vision. For the time you rolled inside the house through the glass-less window, the grey-eyed man was the near the other entrance that would lead to his run out.
However, you had other plans for him, and before he could even lift up his arm, you fired your grapple hook to the wall, mere inches away from his face. That apparently startled him and since he wasn’t far away from the other window, he fell backwards the ground outside. You cursed lowly, and ran towards the window looking down when you heard a loud crash downwards and eyes widening by the sight, a messy Furlan laying on heavy looking wood boxes, eyes tightly closed in pain, it seemed that the rammed into them when he fell down. Not wanting to lose this advantage, you quickly stepped down besides him and grabbed his much taller form by the hood hanging from his neck and ready to tie his hands behind his back.
"Ah.. I never expected to be caught like this" you just scoffed, ignoring his comment. When you were sure that the rope was tightly wrapped around his wrists, you forced him to stand up and began walking towards an uncertain direction. Uncertain until you heard various thuds and more crashes that sounded just like the infamous blades resting on your thighs. It wasn’t far away and by Furlan's irritated look, he seemed to recognize the other sounds as well. You just tugged his tied arms forwards and walked where you thought the sounds came from.
Minutes after, without barely blinking since you were keeping eyes open for any movement Furlan could make, you both finally reached the commotion and no far away another woman part of your squad, Lisa, managed to catch the younger girl, Isabel. You both crossed paths and saw that Mike and Erwin, both cornered Levi "Squad leader, are you alright?" You said with a loud to me once both of you were close enough. Erwin looked at our direction and just nodded "Yes. You both did well"
;;
The three thugs were captured, each of them had their wrists tied up with ropes plus sodden cuffs, to maintain their already blocked way to move and obliged to kneel in front of your squad leader. Erwin looked down, expecting o meet their glares, you stood no far away with Mike, in case any of them tried to do something, which right now seemed like impossible "I have some questions to ask you" He lifted the piston-shot of one of the maneuver gears you were able to detach from their bodies and started his interrogation "Where did you get your hands on this?" Silence.
"Your vertical maneuvering skills were excellent. Who thought you?" Erwin’s words meet even more silence, however, in you opinion their glares were more than sufficient. You sweared that if Levi's glare could kill, he really would have done it... for about six times already. Erwin walked towards the latter mentioned, and you certainly worried a bit about his safety "You are the leader, right? Have you ever received military training?" The deadly state of the grey-eyed man just deepened and that seemed that it was enough silence for Erwin, he looked towards Mike who just nodded in affirmation. You knew what he will do, using force is the only way.
Mike grabbed Levi's hair and yanked him towards the filthy floor slamming his face into a puddle of mud in an aggressive manner. His other two friends gasped in surprise, their already hateful gazes just increasing with worry for their friend. Levi just winced a bit and looked up to Erwin once again "I'll ask again. Where did you learn vertical maneuvering?" Silence just covered the ambience, and you noticed how Erwin was losing some of his massive patience, Levi didn’t seem way too well neither.
"We didn’t learn it form anyone! You think we’re gonna let a civil servant push us around?!" Isabel suddenly said. You jumped in surprise and moved from were you stood to walk near Isabel and Furlan, you would expect anything front those two "We figured it out so we could survive in this dump! Anyone who doesn’t know what sewage tastes like couldn’t understand!" You were keeping a somewhat low likeness towards the three of them, but Furlan's words made you remember how these people lived and growled up, how much of the kids starved to death before even thinking of having a childish dream and you felt compassion invading your body for them. Mentally slapping yourself about how heartless you have been, even if you never voiced out loud the thoughts lingering your mind mere seconds ago.
"My name is Erwin Smith. What are your names?" The blonde, satisfied by their answers, tried to ask Levi again, but he didn’t receive something much different. Mike taking the sign and repeated his last actions, this time you felt bad seeing how the raven struggled to catch his breath and how his ego is being broken in front of his own friends and strangers he didn’t want to know about "I applaud your determination. But keep it up, and we’ll move on to your comrades" you knew what you should do now, but still hesitated a bit. With shaky hands, you grabbed Isabel's shaggy hair softly and neared one of your blades into her small neck. You knew that you wouldn’t kill them, but it still left an uneasy feeling.
"If you’re gonna do it, do it!!" The girl exclaimed in anger, making your eyebrows frown, was your compassion that obvious? Was it that obvious to make Isabel risk her life knowing that she’s actually not doing so? Where is your usual cold behavior towards thugs like them? And Levi’s surprised and worried look that you were able to catch from the corner of your eye didn’t help at all however it lasted seconds since he moved his eyes to Erwin, hatred covering his orbs "You bastard..."
"What’s your name?" Erwin tried again. You still didn’t understand why he asked for it, when you remember he was to one that handled all of you their information papers. You just assumed that he wanted to keep a low profile and brushed the thought aside.
"... It’s Levi" His voice still sounded raspy and you could see how kept struggling when catching his breath.
"Levi, would you make a deal with me?"
The man looked up in surprise, eyes widened and confusion adorned his face. It was nice to see a different expression on his sharp features "Deal...?" Erwin nodded and continued with his proposition "I won’t ask about your crimes. In return, you will lend me your strength, and join the survey corps" Levi's confusion turned into a more incredulous one, and somehow, you understood dumbstruck state "If I refuse...?" He asked lowly, probably knowing what Erwin's answer will be "I turn you over the military police. Considering your crimes, I don’t think you or your comrades can expect decent treatment"
"Choose whichever path you wish"
Levi looked at his side, meeting Isabel's and Furlan's determination. His pupils looked up to you, and you felt your body freeze on the spot. He only growled moving his gaze down the puddle of mud with irritation only to meet Erwin back again.
"Very well, I’ll join the Surver Corps"
;;
Tray in hand, you stood in middle of the room. Eyes searching for a certain brunette and they’re usual companion to sit with, but finding no one instead. Alone, you sat in a random empty table, and waited for Hanji and their squad.
It wasn’t that you weren’t fond of your own squad. But as usual, they weren’t there neither. Erwin passing most of his time inside his office or training. Mike whenever the fuck Erwin is at the moment and the rest had more friends they are bonded with.
Hanji Zoë is an enthusiastic person, it was hard to not know or have talked with them. Is like they have a goal to befriend everyone joining the Survey Corps. And at first, you thought you would have never want to have any type of friendship with them since they’re way too loud for liking but look at you, impatiently waiting for their arrival.
Then there’s Moblit Berner who is a total sweetheart. You suppose that he’s a close friend of Hanji, since they spend most of their time time together and neither of them being here eating dinner with you, reinforces that question.
"They’re probably in that closed library where no sunlight hits and lost their control of time... again" you murmured. It wasn’t unusual that you are sitting alone by yourself, your hard capacity to maintain conversations with anyone is enough to make you give up on that. And the little amount of persons that managed to get on your heart are always occupied with someone or something.
You always stood like a sore thumb in any pair you went and spent your ridiculously large amount of free time with. Erwin & Mike, two tall as fuck blue-eyes blondes and then Hanji & Moblit, their conversations always being about trivial topics you barely knew about. However that didn’t mean you didn’t fully enjoy your time with them. Hanji always tried to make you laugh once a day, since 'you won’t be able to show any expressions if you kept having that resting bitch face' and somehow, they succeed every time.
But you really did want to have a larger comfort bubble with a larger amount of friends. You’ve been a scout for several years already, and haven’t found no one as close as your previous mentioned friendships, mayhap two or three acquaintances and a few talks with your squad companions but that’s all. You urged of human communication.
You waited for Hanji and Moblit with your cold and now empty plate under you for nearly an hour, you were growing impatient of the looks some new cadets were giving you since you literally had no reason to stay in the room if you finished your food or maybe is your R.B.F scarier than usual?
You sighed standing up and walked towards the headroom you shared with most of the women, ready to call it a day but stopped when you heard rushed and low voices down the hall. Moving your head slowly to take a peek, the thieves you captured a week ago were standing in the middle of the narrow hall with irritated expressions.
"I’ll go! You’ll probably make a mess if you even think about entering his office"
"Huh?! You’re saying I’m not capable to do so?!"
"..."
"Levi!! Who do you think will do a better job?"
"We don’t even know if that damn paper is there, but-"
"Levi's opinion doesn’t matter here, he’ll probably just say me anyways"
Paper? Office? Are they talking about the Commander’s office? Why would they enter though...?
"Hey! Of course it matters, if I wasn’t here you two would probably rip your heads off"
A silence with a deep breath.
"Furlan’s going"
"Aw, c'mon! I wanted to see if he used a comb to style his brows!"
Not the Commander’s, but Erwin's office
"If I found something like that, I would have told both you, dumbass"
You heard them walking towards your hiding position, so hurriedly you passed in front of them as if you didn’t heard nothing, just in your way to have a deep sleep in your hard as a rock bed.
They easily got startled by your presence, and you couldn’t stop feeling their sharp gaze on you "Everything okay?" You decided to ask, maybe showing a kinder side helps them feel more comfortable.
"Yeah, we just... just got lost!" Isabel said with a nervous grin, still looking stiff thanks to your surprise appearance second ago.
"Ah, really? I know the headquarters from head to toe, I can help you" You answered with sincerity, waiting for them and if they’re willing to ask you.
"Eh, uhm... yeah of co-"
"No, we'll manage" Levi interrupted Isabel's affirmation, irritation starting to form in his expression, narrowing his eyes in suspicion and cold eyes meeting yours. You would have lied if you said you didn’t feel chill down your spine but you just nodded, waved goodbye at them and restarted you walk to your now changed direction.
;;
Furlan huffed, closing the door behind him in a slow movement "Damnit... there’s nothing"
"Nothing?"
The young man standing in front of Erwin's door office jumped in surprise and for you amusement a high pitched shriek. But his scared expression didn’t last long "W-what around you doing here! Wasn’t it enough to make my caught pathetic?"
You just chuckled and smiled at him, Furlan just scoffed, but you were able to see the little light of confusion adorning his light grey-orbs "Shouldn’t I be asking that? Erwin is my squad leader after all" Furlan limited himself to blush in embarrassment after his realization "I just wanted to talk with him, is that wrong?"
"It is not, but you shouldn’t enter his office without permission" and before he could answer you back, you started to talk again "But it’s okay, this happened my first time too, y’know?" Furlan just laughed awkwardly and nodded "haha.. yeah"
"I gotta go but um, if are here to talk to Erwin you should go back" He said turning around and walking out as fast as he could without looking suspicious.
"They’re so awful at hiding it.. maybe asking Erwin to watch their training tomorrow is a good idea"
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Next Chapter
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stonebreakerseries · 4 years
Text
Character Introduction Series
PART 1: DELVER (2638 words)
A piece taking place six years pre-Stonebreaker, when Delver is twenty-five and finally traveling beyond the Allied Kingdoms.
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“Very well, then. That will be one drem for the parchment, two crests for the ink.”
“Oh, is that all? Are you sure you don’t want to make it two and three?” Fingers fishing through his leather pouch, Delver tried to ignore the way the coins more slid past each other than collided, so empty were his coffers. “Most people are a little more ambitious when they rob me blind.”
The clerk's pale gaze, sequestered behind a pair of thick eyeglasses, expressed no amusement at the comment. “Supplies are set at a standard rate for scribes and notaries within Illazio. In eastern currency, it is one iron drem for parchment, two silver crests for city ink.” After a slight pause the clerk, clearly determining that he was in conversation with a simpleton, raised three slender fingers. “Three coins, total.“
That little bastard.
Delver made a point of aggressively clicking the coins onto the stone counter one. by. one. The clerk, ever-helpful, lowered a finger each time.
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The smell of road dust and horse-shit arrived like a slap as Delver shouldered his way out of the scrivery, the roll of paper already half-way into his pack as he navigated the narrow stairs to the street. Hands occupied, he held the dark, slender ink vial gingerly between his teeth, silently praying that he was not overtaken by a sudden compulsion to bite down. He’d heard enough horror-stories about Illazio ink to know that if he so much as spilled a drop on his skin, his children’s children would be born with the stain. Yes, he recalled a particular scribe in Milenus whose pet cat---
A sharp whistle snapped Delver’s attention upwards. He grunted, skittering back, narrowly avoiding a passing wagon as it juddered drunkenly down the street. Grumbling, he moved a little further aside, extracted the vial from his lips and wrapping it in what was left of his spare shirt. Well, technically the shirt he was wearing was his spare shirt. Divider, he needed an alarming amount of supplies. With exchange rates being what they were, it was going to be a miserable few days.
Tucking the swaddled vial into the center of the pack, cushioned from any potential knocks and blows, Delver eventually nodded, swung it onto his back, and straightened with a soft groan. As the denizens of the street bustled to and fro, he pulled in a deep breath, held it, and let it out.
Then, he grinned.
Illazio ink.
Just getting his hands on it made the trip so far north worth it. Sure, it had added a good two-turns to his planned course, but what was twenty days when you practically lived your life on the road? Besides, it’s not like he had anything better to do. Or anywhere to be. Or anyone waiting for him.
Slowly, his smile wavered. As if to mask its demise, Delver ran a hand down his face, his rough beard scraping against the underside of this glove. He could use a drink. A proper shave, too. Divider, when was the last time he paid someone to take a razor to his face? Probably not since setting foot in the Empire. You could never be too careful, these days. Sure, some folks would say a barber’s a barber no matter where you went, but in Delver’s mind, it was still best to avoid paying strangers from opposing lands to hold a blade to your throat. Shit, Delver had friends who would refuse on the grounds of it being just a little too tempting.
At the thought of such friends, Delver sighed and squinted at the sky. A deep pool of indigo was beginning to edge across from the west, pushing the dusty day out towards the desert. It was probably time to go. He should hurry. That damn woman hated drinking alone.
Stepping into the crowd, Delver let himself to be swept up by the current flowing deeper into the heart of the city.
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“You spent how much on ink!?”
Grinning, Delver raised his hands in mock surrender. “Come on, Cresha! Don’t be mad. How was I meant to come to Illazio and not buy it? In my field, that’s practically a crime.”
“You know what else is a crime? Me murdering you.” Like lightning, her hand snapped out, swatting his shoulder. “Fucking seriously--- ink, Delver? What about a new shirt, huh? Or some boots without holes in them?”
Rubbing his arm defensively, Delver fixed his companion with an exasperated look. “First of all, let’s stop pretending this is just any ink. It’s Illazio ink.” He was quicker this time, ducking out of range. “Second of all - ouch! Haven’t we talked enough about the hitting? I’m not some shit-bag mercenary you can throw punches at whenever you like.”
“Then stop deserving it.” Groaning, Cresha slumped, her hand curling around her mug of ale. Slowly, she drew it towards her chest, the heavy wood grating a low staccato over the chipped surface of the table. If misery had a sound, Delver figured that would be it.
“You bring out the worst in me,” she muttered after a moment, gaze lost in her mug. “You really do.”
“... Was that to me or the drink?”
“Fuck off.” Cresha slouched across, skimming the foam off her ale in a long, beleaguered slurp. “I hope you starve to death.”
Delver laughed softly, resting an elbow on the back of his chair. “Divider knows I like to push my luck in that regard.” He sniffed the air, twisting to look about the crowded room. “Speaking of, did you order supper while you were waiting?”
Cresha’s eyes were hard as stone as they leered over the rim of her mug. “Sure did. You’re looking at it.”
Just like that, she had walked right into his trap. “Really? An ale, Cresha? What about soup? Or a pair of roasted---FUCK!”
This time, she got him under the table.
“Ale does me just fine,” she said with a shrug as Delver hissed and cradled his shin. “You’re the one that’s skin and bones around here, not me.” Taking a long gulp for emphasis, she gasped contently, setting it down with a hearty thump. “When was the last time you ate a proper meal, anyway?”
“What are you, my mother?”
“No, I’m your physick, smart-ass. Stop giving me lip for doing my job.” She regarded him for a moment, before puffing a dark curl from her face. “Or did you drag me all the way to the Khathi Empire so I could watch you die somewhere scenic?”
Turning, she waved theatrically towards the window, where the outskirts of the Redesan desert loomed far in the distance. Delver rolled his eyes, shifting to prop his head sullenly on his palm. He no longer cared about the stickiness of the table or his throbbing leg. Mainly because she had a point, and he’d rather skin his own tongue than admit it. “I thought healers were meant to be compassionate,” he muttered. “Soft-spoken. Kind.”
Cresha quirked a thin brow. “Then I think you need to decide what it is you actually want. Besides, you knew what you were signing up for. I’m pretty upfront.”
She had him there.
Eventually, after some time spent digging through his near-empty purse, Delver managed to stir enough pity in Cresha’s iron heart to earn him a bowl of stew and a heel of stale bread - the bread’s staleness being a stipulation on her part. A confused wench left and soon returned with a bowl smelling vaguely like meat and potato and some kind of grain. Boot-leather taste and consistency aside, Delver soon found himself shoveling the steaming liquid down his throat with predatory efficiency, barely pausing for breath yet alone polite conversation. Then, he discovered if he soaked the rock-hard bread long enough, it became halfway edible. That revelation alone was like dawn over the northern wastes; a bright and blissful triumph in a cold, dark place.
By the time he finally surfaced for air, most of the bowl was picked fastidiously clean, and Cresha was watching him with an expression caught somewhere between fascination and horror. “Divider’s Own...” she breathed, before a sudden laugh bubbled out of her, taking them both by surprise. “Fuck me, it’s like watching a street dog go at a steak.”
“It was good stew,” Delver lied, using a piece of leftover bread to polish the already shining bowl. He actually wasn’t sure when he last had a hot meal. It was mostly dried rations, out on the road. Cooking only worked if you could hunt. Cresha rarely had the patience, and unless a rabbit hopped into his lap and died, Delver was pretty much out of luck. Sure, he’d boiled a mushroom or a root vegetable here and there, but that came with its own risks in foreign places. Or rewards, depending on the side-effects.
Frankly, his ongoing survival was something of a miracle.
“Found a job for you, by the way.”
Delver glanced up, jaw working hard on the piece of bread. “Hmumpf?”
Thankfully, they had learned over the past year to translate each other’s groans and grunts. “Yeah. Rich lady this time. Wants you to take a look at some family heirloom.” Cresha shrugged, hefting her ale. She seemed poised to drink until a new thought beat her to it. “Told her you weren’t an evaluator, but she said something about a section in a strange language. Figured that was more your thing, so I said you’d take it.”
Giving up, Delver swallowed with a grimace, the bread scraping all the way down to his stomach. With a watery-eyed cough, he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Great. Sounds good.” He cleared his throat. “Good price?”
“Apparently the Illazi cipher quoted six crests.” When Delver wrinkled his nose, Cresha’s lips curled into a cat-like grin. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly. So I talked her up to a sicet. You’re welcome.” Delver’s brows shot straight upwards and Cresha raised her mug in mock salute. “Not bad, huh? But I reckon you could swing a bit more if you clean yourself up tonight. She seemed the lonely sort, if you take my meaning.”
His surprise quickly devolved into a exasperated groan. “I think I whore myself out enough as it is, thank-you-very-much. Besides, I'd rather not set that precedent. You’ve met some of my clients.”
Cresha gave a theatrical shudder and took another swig of ale, as though the image had a sour taste that she could wash away. “S’pose I shouldn’t be condoning that shit. Makes my life a whole lot harder if you go and pick something up.”
“Can we not talk about this?”
“The lotions for that sort of thing smell terrible.”
“I just finished eating.”
“And the blisters? They’ll soak right thorough your smallclothes. Ain’t a weaver alive who could get those stains out.”
“If I pay one of the wenches, do you think she’ll come over and kill me?”
“And there you go again, wasting coin! Just talk with one for five minutes. She’d probably do it for free.” Smirking, Cresha finally chose mercy, draining the rest of her ale and letting the topic die. “Anyway,” she continued as she slid the empty mug to the table’s edge, “told the good Lady Balsari you’d be over by noon tomorrow. Should give you enough time to scrape off a few layers of grime.”
“I’m not that dirty.” Glancing down, Delver plucked gingerly at his shirt, then leaned in to sniff it. He quickly changed the subject. “So, ah, do you think you could get me for a room for tonight? And probably a bath. I’ll pay you ba---”
---“Already done.” At Delver’s shocked stare, Cresha cocked a brow. “What? I knew you were coming into paying work. Unlike some people, I spend coin wisely.”
“Sure,” Delver muttered sullenly. “My coin.”
“Hey, my payment, my coin. Doesn’t matter how broke you are, good help doesn’t come cheap.” Sighing, Cresha leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms to either side. Her leather coat creaked with the movement - he still had no idea how she kept that on without suffering heat-sickness. Maybe it was all the hot-air she expelled while tormenting him. A faint smile quirked up the corner of Delver’s lips as one of the wenches stacked their dishes onto a wooden tray. Sure, Cres was expensive, but she was worth the cost. Especially if she kept getting him jobs.
Maybe only if she kept getting him jobs.
Suddenly, his empty purse felt heavy in an entirely new way. When was her next payment...?
“You done staring, lech?” Cresha demanded suddenly. Her tone was impatient, but there was something amused in the dark glimmer of her eyes.
“That depends. Are you done stretching?” Grinning wickedly, Delver quickly tucked his legs under his chair, barely saving himself from another shin-splintering kick. “Okay, okay - peace! I was just... I was just thinking, that’s all.”
His tone shifted as he spoke, something somber creeping past the mischievous facade. Cresha, never one to let anything slip by without thorough interrogation, regarded him for a moment. When he didn’t immediately elaborate, her face tightened slightly. He knew that look well; she was gathering all the pieces of a scowl, just in case she needed them in a hurry.
“Alright, fine. I’ll bite. What were you thinking about?”
“I wasn’t trying to...” Sighing, Delver just shook his head. “I was just thinking about how long I can keep this up for. That’s all.”
“This?”
“You know. All of it. The traveling, the here-and-there work, you.” Overcome by a wave of self-consciousness, Delver shrugged awkwardly. He reached up and ran a hand over his mouth, as if to somehow hide behind it. “You’re from here, aren’t you? Bylea, I mean.”
Cresha snorted. “So what if I am? You’re from Calvaron. Doesn’t mean you feel the need to put down roots every time you set foot through the gate.”
Well, there was no arguing that. Just the thought of Calvaron - even Signea as a whole - left a bitter taste in Delver’s mouth. Unlike Cres, he didn’t have anything to wash it away with. “So you aren’t planning to head home for a while?”
“Nah.” She waved a hand, as though to disperse the question in the dusty air. “Never was. When you stop paying, I’ll probably just head east. Do some work in cooler weather for a change. Do you have any idea how fucking hot this coat gets out here?”
A grin slowly spread across Delver’s face, and he laughed, feeling a little lighter somehow. Maybe it was because, at least for a while more, they’d still be heading in the same direction. It was nice, not being alone on the road. Even if he had to pay good coin for the company.
Or maybe it was because her idea of home wasn’t too far from his own. They’d learned a lot about each other, over the past year, but where they were from wasn’t much of a topic for conversation. He had a feeling they both preferred it that way.
“Well...” Groaning, Delver used the table to push himself up, his muscles protesting their burden. It’d take a few days of rest for the road-aches to fully go away. Just in time for him to gather them all back again on the trip to the Crossroads. “Guess I’d better get scrubbing, huh?”
“Mmhm. Guess you’d better.” Smirking, Cresha flagged one of the wenches, ignoring the way Delver rolled his eyes to the ceiling. As he headed towards the stairs, Cresha’s voice drifted after him. “Hey, don’t go passing out in the tub!”
“Oh for fuck’s--- that was one time!”
“One’s enough!”
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beautcous · 3 years
Text
Thread 02 (Kissing Booth)
Most of Meera’s weekends were spent with Atlas and Axel. They would either be hanging out together or doing something fun that was kid friendly. This Saturday was different how. She was giving back, and for some reason that was still unknown to her, she’d been roped into being a candidate for her chosen charity’s kissing booth. It definitely wasn’t her idea of fun, but seeing as she was doing this for the benefit of the starving children across the world, she didn’t quite see the point in declining. Giving strangers–wealthy ones–a peck on the lips wasn’t all that bad, or at least that was her initial thought until she saw him standing before her. As per usual, her disposition soured rather quickly. Her brows bunched into a frown and she could feel irritation immediately rising within her. A part of her wanted to ignore him, but she knew she couldn’t, so instead, she folded her arms in front of her and greeted him with a tone that could only be described as annoyance. “What are you doing here, Maxwell?” Though the answer was obvious, she couldn’t stop herself from spewing the query. Why was it that he was always around whenever she was doing an event? He was like a pest that she couldn’t get rid of; always there to annoy her.
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It wasn’t that Max hated charities in fact, he was one of the few who donated to all of them and that to in a rather generous figure. It was the events themselves he hated attending, he’d much rather just cut a generous check. Most people assumed because he was always in the public eye that he enjoyed being around crowds and loved attending events, however, it was the opposite. He had no desire to be in crowds for a prolonged period of time, he much preferred his silence and solace. He had arrived a bit after the charity event had began, this year they had switched it up a bit and various booths were set up allowing the public to choose where they would like to contribute. His hazel eyes had survey the various tables and booth set up, all elaborate decorations and with signs that indicated what each were for. He had been idly surveying and observing them as he strolled around until his eyes landed on a very familiar brunette. His amusement growing when he realized she had set up a kissing booth and without wasting a second he had placed himself right in her line of sight. He smirked a bit at her annoyance, which for once was not present on his own features. “For the same reason everyone else is here I imagine?” He feigned innocence, he knew she was asking why he had approached her booth but he purposely dodged if only to rile her up. “Kissing booth huh? Didn’t peg you as the type to let strangers come up and kiss you, how does your boyfriend feel about that, Princess ?” His haze hues trained on her. He’d seen the man at the gala about a week prior, and he didn’t know why but seeing Meera on the man’s arm left a sour taste in his mouth. For reasons he could not fathom, the sight of her clinging onto her the other male had left Max very annoyed for the rest of the night. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t banter with her like he normally did or perhaps because that night she had blatantly ignored him, but that shouldn’t have bothered him to begin with.
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Their continuous random meetings felt a lot like a curse to Meera. She didn’t understand why he was constantly here, like a plague attacking her at every angle. It was all getting rather tiresome; the constant fights, the bitter words. She wanted it all to end. Alas, that wasn’t going to happen today because just as she expected, he was here to mock her. It had only been a few seconds since she gazed upon him and she could already feel her anger escalating; blazing within the depths of her soul. There was only one person who could make her feel this way in a blink of an eye, and he was standing right in front of her wearing that smirk that made his features undeniably striking. She hated the fact that despite hating his guts, she couldn’t refute that the man was attractive. Apparently, her hatred didn’t make her blind. It still didn’t mean that she liked him however. No. She loathed him with every fiber of her being. His smart ass answer earned him an eye roll which she was pretty sure he wasn’t even surprised by anymore. “It’s what my charity wanted and why do you care? It’s not like I’m going to kiss you.” She spat back, cringing at the thought of their lips touching. She would rather kiss the most hideous man on the face of the earth than have to lock lips with him. “Atlas trust me. But what would you know about trust? A manwhore like you would never understand the concept.–And I swear if you call me Princess one more time, I’m going to cut off your tongue and feed it to the wolves.” Meera hated the way Maxwell used that word, it was always laced with condescension and abhorrence. She swore those were the only feelings he had for her. Not that she cared what he felt towards her, since she too hated him right back. She did find it amusing that he would bring up Atlas. The last she saw Maxwell was at gala about a week ago, though she didn’t speak to him which she believed had a lot to do with her boyfriend being there. It left her feeling gleeful actually to watch him from afar as Atlas escorted her around; him unable to talk to her. “Now that you’ve had your fun, get out of the way. There are people who are actually here for charity…” She remarked seeing the man behind Maxwell looking impatiently at her nemesis’ back.
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It was like an inexplicable need to go hunt her down whenever he realized she was within his orbit. It was as if his body was aware of her subconsciously and demanded he go to her if only to anger her. Max was beginning to think no one seemed to piss her off the way he did, and it was yet another thing he took immense satisfaction from. There was something so inanely attractive about Meera whenever she got so riled up, maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled in furry or maybe it was the sheer fact that despite her denying it over and over, he affected her in some way. Why that pleased him so much he still had no fucking clue. As he made his way over her, his hazel hues raked her curvy form letting his gaze linger on the curve her hips in the attire she was wearing that did her stellar figure wonders. His hand itched to feel those curves and he was sure they would feel as good as they looked. He hadn’t miss the eye roll she gave at his smartass response, “I don’t think you’re in any position to turn me away. Now with the rather generous check I have, what kind of host would you be?” Taunting her some more, he really hadn’t thought about kissing her but now she out right refused him he had no intention of leaving until he got exactly what he wanted. “I imagine your charity would be very disappointed in you if you turned down my generous donation. And we both know you’re too much a good-two shoes to do that.”
Max let out a snort at her words, still eying her with glinting eyes but they darkened slightly at the words. Once again he felt that irritation that he had during that festival when she accused of being a soulless monster and he yet again hated how she got to him. What did it matter what she thought? He never cared before so why were her words rubbing him the wrong way? His ire rising at the mention of Atlas, because he had no desire to hear anything about him. Max was still very much annoyed he hadn’t gotten the chance to annoy her at the gala last week all thanks to her boyfriend. “Somehow I don’t think you have it in you to even lay a hand on me. I don’t know why you don’t like my charming nickname for you. Rather fitting for you isn’t it? Pampered girl, apple of everyone’s eyes. hell, you even got Emmett fawn over you, as much as I hate to admit it.” He told her mockingly but that bit was true because Emmett had been asking Max constantly when he could see her again much to his annoyance. it amused to see her attempts to get rid of him, too bad for her, he was not going anywhere. Max then placed his palms flat on the booth table and leaned over slightly as a clear indication he would not leaving. “Oh, sweetheart” knowing how much she hated that endearment from as well, “I’m just getting started. You might want to deliver what you promised if you don’t want to keep the others behind me waiting. I’ve got all day, Princess.” Keeping his eyes locked on her letting her see the challenge in his eyes. “Unless your scared…what’s that matter? Afraid you’ll be enticed into wanting more?” His hazel eyes darkened slightly as he stared at her.
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Meera wasn’t in the mood to play games with Maxwell today. She had work to do, or more like people to kiss, and he was simply trying to provoke her by being here. It still boggled her mind how easily he could pull a reaction out of her. She could be calm one minute and the instant she interacted with him, her mood would shift and she would be pissed off again. The crazy thing about all this was, in spite of his prickly disposition, deep down she did like sparring with him. He kept her on her toes. Each time she did so, the words came out more vicious; filled with loathing and anger. She might not like getting angry with others, but it was actually nice to have someone she could throw her pent up aggression on. Her hostility might’ve stemmed from her parents, from their mistreatment of her. Nothing she ever did was ever good enough. They wanted so little from her, it insulted her intelligence. Yes, she was a woman and she couldn’t deny that she wanted a family; white picket fences and everything that came with the dream of having a happily ever after ending, and yet, the side of her that was voracious for leadership couldn’t be so easily silenced. That hunger to prove them wrong led her here to Stonehill. She would’ve gladly stayed in Delhi otherwise. A small part of her was glad to be here; she wouldn’t have met Atlas otherwise. On the other hand, if she had never stepped foot in the desert city, she wouldn’t have met Maxwell either. Sometimes she wondered if she might be cursed. No matter where she went, there was always some form of obstacle stopping her from moving forward. “If you’re truly generous, why not just give me the check and walk away?” She challenged, a perfectly shaped brow raising as the question left her. He didn’t want to give her the check because he just wanted to be a pain in the ass. She knew his tactics, his need to mock her. It was all too clear with the way he was smirking down at her like some lunatic. “I would never turn down a donation, but you. You’re doing all this just to get a reaction out of me.” Her eyes rolled at the male as she unapologetically made that statement. He knew damn well that he didn’t have to be here, scorning at her bid to do some good in the world, but did he care? Not one bit. In return, she was simply going to match his sarcasm word for word.
Meera had to give it to Maxwell however, the man had no quit in him. She could see now how he came into his fortune. If he was passionate when it came to arguing with her, she was positive that when it came to business, his zealousness would’ve tripled. Were she not so repulsed by him, she might even ask him for business tips. “Why don’t you come a little closer and I’ll show you what I’m capable of.” Though her tone was tender, her dark hues meeting his hazel ones could not mask her intent. Her mind decided to gloss over his remark about her being a princess and instead focused on Emmett. Knowing that the little boy liked her filled her heart with warmth. It should never matter, she’d only met him once, but it felt nice to know that he was fond of her. “He likes me?” She was still stuck on that thought, a gentle smile forming on her lips when she felt Maxwell moving. Somehow, while she was lost in her own musing, he’d moved forward, his distance just a hair breadth away. From this distance, she could smell the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his breath. He was so close, she felt butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. She shouldn’t feel this way about him, she had a boyfriend, but damn it, she couldn’t deny his appeal, even if he was a biggest jackass on the face of the earth. The idea of them sharing a kiss enticed her, calling out to her. She had to blink her eyes to ward off the ideas floating around in her mind and when she felt composed enough, she jibed back. “Don’t flatter yourself. You probably kiss like a fish anyway.” It was hard for her to say those things when just seconds ago, she was practically drooling at the thought of kissing him. Not one to be challenged, she rolled her eyes, leaned forward intent on giving him a peck on the lips to have him leave her alone. However, the reality was not what she expected. The moment their lips met, fireworks sparked. She felt it, the need and hunger burning within the pit of her stomach. Before she could stop herself, her arms reached for his shoulders, somehow she was able to move away from the table and allowed her soft body to meet with his hard one. Her head tilted a little, their tongues clashing in a dance filled with desire.
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Max’s harassment of Meera today was more of a payback for the night she had ignored him at the gala. Even as he thought back he couldn’t fathom why he was so annoyed that she paid no attention to them the few hours they were there. Her boyfriend had stepped away from her every now and then but even then Meera didn’t glance his way. Only a greeting was exchanged between that night but it was more for pretense than anything while all Max wanted was to verbally spar with her again. But alas, she had stolen that chance so when he saw her in her booth, there was no way she was getting off that easy. Initially, if she really didn’t want it, he wouldn’t have kissed her but her blatant rejection of the kiss and by default him, wouldn’t let him walk away so easily. She deserved this bit of torture. He grinned at her quick remark before leaning in closer to her as he kept his gaze trained on her. “If I were a better man I would have, but we both know that’s not my style. No, I just want my kiss as promised.” He told her nonchalantly with a careless shrug but he could see he was getting to her which had him more pleased than ever. The urge to close the distance between only grew when Meera met his gaze and taunted him in return though the words were said sweetly, he could see the murder in her eyes that had his grinned widen. Perhaps it was a bit arrogant of him to assume that she might just like the kiss, “Don’t tempt me.” He murmured to her huskily, ignoring her fury and his features changing so she could see the true intentions behind his dark gaze. Max had to resist the urge to roll her eyes when she inquired about Emmett but he ignored it, he didn’t come here to talk about his nephew. No, he was to finally get the one thing he wanted for so long. He realized this could be his only chance to feel her lush lips against his, to taste her and sate his curiosity to finally to know just how hot her mouth ran. “Why don’t you find out?” His voice low as she leaned in closer over the table so their faces were inches apart. His sharp hazel hues studied her striking features and he could see the conflict behind her eyes and then what felt like years she finally leaned in and closed the gap between them.
The moment their lips touched Max swore everything around him become still. His senses overwhelmed as her soft lips moved against his own and the cliche sparks that women harped on and on about are ones he finally experienced. There were no words to describe what it felt like to be kissing Meera, and none of his fantasies held up to the real deal. As their lips moved, his hunger grew and he couldn’t resist coaxing her mouth open, letting her ease into it before he fully began assaulting her mouth. His tongue swiped against her own before he went on exploring every inch of her sweet tasting mouth. Somehow Meera had found her way around the table until her arms were around him and his own slid around her waist tugging her closer. It was then he felt another unfamiliar sensation, a strong burning sensation that he realized was coming from his soul mark and Max felt as if someone had dowsed him cold water. No, that couldn’t be it but even then he tried to ignore it and focus on the kiss. God, he never wanted it to end, so his arm around her tightened, hands digging into her waist as pulled her even closer so she was pressed up against him while his other hand held her chin in place so he could kiss her deeper. What stunned him was the way Meera was responding, there was no denying she was enjoying this as much as he was. He could feel her hunger, tasted it on her tongue as she let out small whimpers against his assault and he swore nothing ever felt this good as her. The longer he kissed her, the burning and tingling sensation he was feeling from his mark increased and it sent his heart racing.
It was then he heard a few throat clearings behind them and that snapped his brain out it’s lust filled-haze. Forcefully tearing his mouth away from her even though he was reluctant, when he realized what he had just learned. Meera was his soulmate. He’d been kissing his soulmate and the thought itself was enough to have panic began rising within him. He slowly composed himself, and tried to control his rough breathing as he pulled back and let go of her as if she had burned him but in a way he suppose she had. Jesus fucking christ, all this time she’d been right in front of him and now he wished he’d never even met her. He didn’t want Meera as his soulmate and he most certainly didn’t want to know his. “I think I’ve proved my point.” he told her a bit coldly, his hazel eyes hardening like chips of glass as he stared down at her. This had to be some sick joke, she couldn’t be his soulmate. But as he stood and tried to recover from that earth-shattering kiss a lot things began to make sense like why he always seemed to seek her out. But it didn’t matter, even if they were soulmates he had no intention of doing anything about it. But god the hunger he was still feeling refused to die, all he wanted was to tug her back into his arms and take her somewhere in a corner and have his way with her. he then swiftly pulled the check out and placed it on the table, “That should suffice, let me know if you need more.”
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This was torture, standing here, having to be around a man Meera loathed beyond anyone’s wildest imagination was the hardest thing she’d had to do since she insisted that her parents send her to Stonehill. That was a tough talk, she remembered it clearly. Tears were shed, angry words uttered, and even then the moment was tolerable compared to having to be around Maxwell. She shouldn’t have even bothered with him. He wasn’t worth her time, and yet when he started in on her, she couldn’t stop herself from responding. It was maddening. What was it about the male that drove her so wildly crazy that she felt the need to retort to his every barb? She was supposed to be this mature thirty year old, and yet whenever he was around, all that was forgotten and she reverted back a petulant child. At this point, she was sure that even her five year old self would have balked at her attitude. As annoyed as she was at having to watch Maxwell demand a kiss from her; she couldn’t deny the sizzle she felt as the words left him. He sounded so arrogant and self assured; as if his words alone would make her comply. And who the hell said that she owed him a kiss? It wasn’t like she forced him to donate to her charity. It made her wonder if he even knew to what cause he was donating his money to. By the dark look in his eyes, it almost felt like he was using this as an excuse to kiss her. After all, he hadn’t hid the fact that he lusted after her. The male had even given her an invitation to sleep with him on several occasions. She had half a mind to tell him to go to hell, something that she was sure by now he was used to hearing.
Perhaps it was stupid of her to fall into his trap and accept his challenge. But what else was she supposed to do when he had so fearlessly laid down the gauntlet for her? Anyone who knew her would have known that she hated being challenged, and maybe that was her weakness. She couldn’t stop herself from reacting, even if the outcome was disadvantageous to her cause. How right her conclusion had been however when just seconds after their lips met, a sensation she had never felt before engulfed her being. It was like lust and passion were wrapped up into one, causing her to burn for him. Her arms found its way around his shoulders, pulling him close and allowing their bodies to meet. What should have been a soft peck escalated rather quickly. Their tongues swirled together, lips moving in perfect unison as if they had done this a million times before. She had never felt like this in her life; her body had grown so hot that she swore she would allow him to have her right then and there if he were to ask. But wait, something else was odd about this. There was a sensation that felt foreign; a tingling that kept humming on her skin just beneath her left breast. Wait a minute, that was where her soulmark sat. No. No. NO! Her mind screamed. He couldn’t be. This has got to be a joke. Maxwell Kincaid wasn’t her soulmate! She pulled away right as he did, her eyes growing as wide as saucers as she stared at him. Her mind was whirring at a thousand miles per minute, her stomach sinking as she tried to process what she just experienced. For his part, he didn’t even look like he was affected by it. Maybe he didn’t feel it? Perhaps it was all a fluke? She wanted to ignore it; to simply let him leave and never broach the subject, but she couldn’t leave this mystery unsolved, she had to say something.  
“You.” Meera began, but found the words caught in her throat, shock still settling in her body. Her breath was uneven, panic clearly showing in her face as her brows formed a frown. How could she even ask him this question? It was going to sound ridiculous, especially with Maxwell standing there acting like a complete jackass. She swore he had no feelings, or if he did, he was just ignoring all of it. She felt sick, her belly ached just thinking about him being her soulmate. When she addressed him once more, she stiffened her spine, and spoke in a voice that was filled with hatred. “You’re my other half.” A mirthless laugh left her then, because if she didn’t do that, she knew she would end up crying and there was no way she was going to allow him to see her cry. It would give him too much satisfaction. “I can’t fucking believe this! Out of all the people in the world, I had to be stuck with you? What kind of crazy cosmic joke is this?” She was actually pissed off now, angry at Fate for doing this to her. Yes, she knew that she would someday meet her soulmate, but did it have to be him? Maxwell Kincaid had no soul. How could they sic him on her?
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Max continued to watch her with dark eyes not bothering to hide his desire to kiss her because by now Meera knew how much he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her should she ever allow him. His hazel hues glinting with a challenge that he knew would have her accepting, Meera was prideful like him in that sense. She never back down from a challenge and it was one trait of her’s that he admired. Albeit it annoyed him but he she still had his respect because she never back down from nor did she ever let him get away with shit. But as his gaze continued to bore into hers, he could see the flash of interest and intrigue in her eyes at the thought. Perhaps she wasn’t so repulsed bye him and he’d known for sure the moment she closed the gap between their lips and melted against him. Max began the kiss softly, giving her only a few seconds to adjust before he plunged his tongue inside and kissed her rather greedily. Fighting hard to hold back his pleasured groans because god, she tasted so delicious that his tongue had explored every inch of that hot little mouth that also featured countless times in his fantasies. He sensed her shock at his rather consuming kiss but he didn’t care, and it appeared that Meera was liking. The moans and whimpers that left her throat only encouraged him to continue his deep exploration until he found it hard to breath. His arm holding her tight against him because he never wanted it to end. But nothing would have stopped him, that is, until he felt his soulmark burned so hot against his skin that it sent tingles down his spin until ever never and fiber awakened.
Max had to tear his mouth off hers both due to the lack of oxygen and the disturbing sensation he just experienced, his heart hammering in his chest. He wondered if Meera had but also had hoped she wouldn’t because this was not something he wanted to look into. However, when he fully pulled away from her and finally met her gaze, he saw the same shock in her features that mirrored his own. Max could predict what her response would be as her features said it all, it went from shock to confusion and then to horror. Once more he could feel his irritation grow at her silent reaction and he was puzzled because it wasn’t as if he wanted her either. He only wanted her in his bed, that much he’d always made clear to her so Meera knew not to expect anything from him regardless of their new discovery. Still, as the reality of his soulmate sunk deeper into him, Max realized he had no clue how to handle this bomb that had been dropped on him. What he really wanted to do was to walk away before she could speak but alas he had broken the silence by speaking of his donation. “Join the club, you’re not the only one appalled.” He told her curtly, but still her reaction had stung in him ways he hadn’t expected. Even now as he stood staring at her with a cold look in his eyes, his body was still buzzing from that kiss, a kiss he wanted to repeat again but somewhere private and with much less clothes on either of them. Christ, this news still hadn’t been enough to quell his hunger for her and somehow he hated her even more for it.
“It doesn’t matter, we’re not doing anything about it. I can happily ignore it, can you?” He all but demanded but there were was a hint of desperation in his voice as if pleading that she forget this because Max wanted to as well. Just like he wanted to stop wanting her the way he did because knowing who she was made his desire for her even more dangerous than ever. “You know well I don’t believe in this crap, and this..” gesturing between them “Is proof what utter nonsense this soulmate business is.” It had to be because in what world were they meant for one another? They could barely stand one another and more importantly, Max wasn’t looking to be tied by Meera or anyone for that matter. “You have guests to attend to.” He put the check on the table, before moving his gaze to her, still glinting like ice chips as his mouth curved into a rather cruel smirk, “That nonsense aside, if you ever to continue that” Referring to the kiss, “and do more, I trust you know where to find me?” Raising a brow at her, “You should learn to control your emotions, you say you don’t want me, your kiss says something else.”
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Meera could only describe her situation in one word; cursed. She had to be. Why else would she be stuck with such an arrogant man? Everyone else had a soulmate that understood them, ones that could fill up the parts of them that were left lacking. She on the other had was handed Maxwell, the biggest jerk she had ever come across. How could she not think that she was cursed? She must have done something in her past life that was so terrible to have been stuck with him. The whole situation was a nightmare, and unfortunately for her, she couldn’t wake up from this one, because even now as she stared daggers at the male, she could still feel the imprint of his touch when he kissed her earlier. Her soulmark still tingled slightly, and as much as she hated to admit it, her still felt how deeply his mouth had claimed hers. The most maddening part of all this was the fact that she wanted to feel it again; his lips moving with hers, tongue caressing and swirling around her mouth erotically. She had to blink her eyes rapidly to force those things out of her mind. No. She was angry with him. It was best that she focus on that anger. Thankfully, she didn’t have to try very hard because the moment his comment reached her ears, her ire came back ferociously. “You shouldn’t have come to this booth. This is all your fault. Now I’m stuck with you…” She kept her voice down, only because they were in public and she didn’t want to make this into a bigger deal than it already was by screaming at him like she did earlier.
Why did it bother her so much that he wanted to forget the kiss ever happened? There was a tugging in her chest, an ache that felt almost like she’d been stabbed. It didn’t feel good to hear those words from him. It made Meera feel rejected, even though she shouldn’t. She could still go on with her life as if nothing ever happened. That would require her lying to Atlas however, something she wasn’t fond of doing. She didn’t lie, especially not to the man she loved. “I’m with Atlas, who loves me beyond measure. I can definitely ignore this incident. Consider it forgotten.” She spat back, though the words tasted bitter for some reason. Perhaps it might be because she knew that things were never going to be the same again. Even if she never told Atlas that she’d met her soulmate, she would always feel terrible for withholding the truth. “You might not believe in it and that’s on you… I do, and I would rather die than end up with the likes of you.” That was a terrible remark even if it was being said to her nemesis. But what else could she say? He was being his usual jackass self instead of trying to make the best of the situation. Well, since he was so great at playing the part, she might as well join him, despite feeling terrible for doing so. She needed this to end, for him to go away so she could give herself time to think. With him here, mocking her, she felt suffocated. Fortunately for her, he was finally taking his leave, but as usual, he simply couldn’t stop himself from making her blood boil even more. The man still had the cheek to provoke her already peeved constitution by sending her a proposition that she was tempted to accept, despite knowing her mind shouldn’t even veer to the possibility. “Go to hell, Maxwell…” She huffed in response, took the check that he left on the table and stormed away from the booth to cool off and think about how she was going to handle her current dilemma.
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Even after their kiss broken, Max could feel his lips still tingling as well his soulmark which only served to unsettle him further. He had no fucking clue what to do, normally he’d go out of his way to stay away from Meera but seeing as how they were in the same circle it would be impossible. There was also the fact that his pride wouldn’t allow him to run, he refused to let this woman turn his world upside over a concept he had no faith in. While yes, plenty of soulmates did have happy lives together, he didn’t think it applied to everyone. There were many people just like Max, who didn’t have that sort of luck or luxury and nor did they want it. Max was completely content to go his entire life without meeting his soulmate but meeting his own had been no one’s fault but his own. If he could have learned to control his desire for Meera, perhaps he would have never known and he would not have been in his predicament. What was done was done, Max had no intention of pursing Meera, all he wanted was her body, with no strings attached. Even referring to Meera as his soulmate had him flinch internally. Still, he knew this woman enough to say she was the type of woman who was made to be loved and wanted love. Unfortunately for her, Max was not that man. Her words rang true, they were in this mess because he couldn’t control himself and yes indeed, she was stuck with him. The strange part was, he did feel a bit bad because if Max had it his way he’d never trap any woman with him.
“Don’t worry princess, I won’t be in the way of your way of happily ever after with Atlas.” He sneered the words, still hating how her words stung him and he wondered if they’d ever stop effecting him this way. He didn’t want Meera, he had no feelings for her except for indifference, he only lusted her. So, then why did he feel such a pang of guilt at her plight? She looked so distraught and confused that it tugged at his against his will before he had to force himself to stop reading her dark hues. “Good to know you agree.” He told her coldly, yes he wanted to forget this but hearing her agree left him in an even sour mood. Especially, when she uttered the words that she’d rather chose death over him. Fuck, he had to get away, he didn’t care what she thought and he refused to let her words hold weigh, she was nothing more than a nuisance to him and he had to keep reminding himself of that. Just as he had to forget this explosive he shared with her, god, he had to get laid that had to be why he was acting this way. Why he kept having such ludicrous fantasies of her, maybe once he took care of his needs he wouldn’t be waxing poetic about Meera. “Where do you think I came from, Sweetheart?” he retorted, and he watched as she picked up his check and walked and Max did the same. He was screwed, he was aware of this because as he walked away his need for her did not ease. It was as if his body ached from being so far away from her but he refused to think about what had just happened.
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COMPLETE.
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thesoundofnat · 5 years
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After the second or third snap
ENDGAME SPOILERS AHEAD
Tony/Pepper, Peter, Morgan, Rhodey, Harley, Nebula, aka his family
Summary: Tony wakes up after the second or third snap and finds himself with a prosthetic arm and four kids.
A/N: A super self-indulgent post Endgame fix it fic where that one thing didn’t happen and Tony suddenly has four kids. Enjoy!
Warnings: Endgame spoilers, nightmares, hints at trauma and PTSD.
Words: 2 258
So you’d saved the universe, almost died, gotten resurrected and were now living your life with a mechanic arm like some sort of Winter Soldier 2.0 and also found yourself with four children instead of the one you’d had before? Yeah, Tony had had a busy year.
He’d woken up at the hospital a week after the snap. The second snap, that is. Or was it the third? The one that had fixed it all, anyway.
(He still couldn’t believe it had worked.)
No one was leaving him out of their sight and apparently hadn’t since he’d ended up there. He wasn’t complaining, though. He had a hard time believing they were real and that this wasn’t an elaborate prank Thanos was pulling off. Despite being dead. They were telling him he was dead. That Tony’s snap had killed him, or whatever being turned to dust meant.
“Can you stand?”
Tony wanted to roll his eyes so badly, but truth be told he wasn’t entirely sure he could. He looked at Rhodey for a moment, unblinking, jaw working. Rhodey got the hint and took a step closer, letting Tony hold onto him as he slowly moved off the hospital bed, the two of them pulling him upright. His body would most likely never be the same again. He could probably use his prosthetic arm just as well as he’d used his flesh one - once he’d figured out all the quirks because it wasn’t as easy as it looked - but the rest?
He groaned, every muscle straining, screaming, as he and Rhodey put more and more weight onto his legs. They’d been doing this for the past week, slowly testing his body and preparing it for the eventual separation from the bed. Tony was weak, but he was getting restless. Needed to get out of here as soon as possible.
“Don’t overwork yourself, Tones,” Rhodey said, a gentle reprimand. They all knew Tony would break his own legs in an attempt to seem strong enough to leave.
He deflated, suddenly falling back onto the mattress. “Shit.”
“Don’t.”
“I-”
“You shouldn’t even be alive and you’re mad your body hasn’t recovered in a month?”
“God, I hate it when you’re right.”
Rhodey let out a laugh. He’d been doing that more often recently.
The door pushed open slowly, a face peeking in. “Mr Stark?”
They all ignored the heart monitor acting up. It always did that when Peter walked into the room; his mere presence always a surprise. His existence still not something Tony was used to. Could barely believe.
Tony sent him a tired smile. “School let you out early?”
“It’s Saturday,” he said and opened the door fully to pull a dimpled Morgan in with him.
It still got to him, seeing his kids together, after thinking he’d never be able to introduce them. It still made him tear up so violently he sometimes actually shed tears. No one - but Morgan - ever commented on that either.
“Hi, kiddo,” he said as she bounced over, careful not to touch him like she’d been instructed. God, Tony couldn’t wait to hug her so tightly they became one. “Did you have fun with Peter?”
She nodded. “Uh huh.”
“What did you do?”
“Got ice cream.”
“Ice cream, huh.” He ran his palm over her cheek. “He’s a nice babysitter.”
He also had nightmares, but Tony only found that out several months later.
Peter had stayed over so many times after Tony was able to go back home that they installed a whole new room for him.
“That way you won’t have to fight everyone over the couch,” Tony had said and used all his strength to punch him lightly on the shoulder.
Peter had been beaming for days.
On most nights, Tony slept well, if only because he was constantly exhausted. But on the occasional restless neverending turning and tossing fest, he would wander the house just to remind himself of the people who occupied it. Remind himself that they were all there, safe, asleep.
It was a night like such that he first heard Peter crying.
He paused, ears straining, practically pushing himself against Peter’s door in order to hear him better. It wasn’t necessary. It was the type of sobbing that you couldn’t really muffle.
He entered, panicked. “Pete.”
Peter untangled from the heap beneath the covers. “Tony.”
“Kid, what’s wrong?”
Peter wore his emotions on his sleeve. Tony had always admired that about him, but he’d never seen him break down like this before. Not even his panicked rambling before the snap was on this level of hysteria.
Tony held him as he cried that night. Reassured him that everything was fine and he was here and Tony was here and everyone was all right. In the end he almost believed it himself.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said once he was calm, his breathing regular.
“Don’t,” Tony said, running his thumb over Peter’s cheek to wipe the tears away. “Don’t apologize for feeling.”
“I don’t really feel as if I have the right to feel like this.”
“Stop that.”
“You’re here, right? You made it. We’re all back. I don’t know why I’m so-”
“Peter.”
Peter leaned forward, pressing his face into Tony’s chest. “I’m sorry.”
Tony wrapped his arms around him. “Please stop.” Stop repeating the last sentence you’d said before vanishing. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Morgan found them like that, eyes blinking in a way that told him the noise had woken her up. “Daddy?”
Peter tried to push away from Tony’s embrace, something he often did whenever Morgan was around. Assuring her he wasn’t stealing her father.
Tony almost rolled his eyes. “Come here, bean,” he said, opening one of his arms to let her crawl into the hug. “There’s plenty of space.”
He noticed Morgan seemed much more attached to him now after his hospital stay. Every morning she would wrap her hand around the fingers of his uninjured hand, hold them for a moment, before allowing him to continue making breakfast. As if she, too, needed to remind herself that he was real. That little mind and heart of hers. They were bigger than all of them.
“I can’t regret anything that’s happened,” he told Pepper one evening, the two of them curled up on the couch, alone for once thanks to Happy taking Morgan to the movies. “Not when it brought her to us.”
Pepper hummed, her fingers in his hair in that soothing manner of hers. “I know what you mean.” A pause, and, “I’m happy you can finally have some peace of mind, now that they’re all back.”
He squeezed her. “On a scale of one to ten, how angry are you at me for doing the snap?”
Her lips twitched. “I would’ve been angrier had you not survived.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m around to face it then.”
She laughed. He laughed. The topic slowly getting easier to talk about, as did everything.
Pepper kissed his prosthetic knuckles and said, “So when are we inviting Nebula over for dinner again?”
Nebula. Tony had been worried that they would only remind each other of the time stuck in space, starving and hopeless, but they didn’t. In fact, he felt even more protective of her once they were on Earth. She’d been one of the few people who semi regularly visited him after Morgan was born. She respected his choice to lead a quiet life and never asked anything of him. Rhodey had once called her his second daughter, which was ridiculous but… well, he couldn’t deny it. She was in such obvious need of a good parental figure, after everything.
“You don’t have to adopt everyone, you know,” Pepper had once said, but there was no malice in her voice. Only fond amusement.
“I know,” he’d replied, bouncing one year old Morgan in his lap. “But I know all too well what it means to not have that kind of support in your life.”
That had been the last time Pepper had brought it up.
Nebula told him she wasn’t on Earth when he called, but that she’d come over as soon as she was back. Tony asked her to be careful, and she rolled her eyes.
“You’re such a dad,” Peter told him, having been sitting quietly on the couch doing homework during Tony’s call.
Tony snorted, giving him a poke to the ribs. “I’ve never heard you complain.”
Peter grinned. “Oh, I’m sure I’ve complained. Remember the baby monitor?”
“I don’t regret that one a bit.”
“Of course not, pops.”
When Tony had nightmares, he dreamt of Peter and Morgan and Pepper being torn to pieces. Not dust. Pieces. The time Harley appeared in one of those dreams, was the first time he called him in five years. He’d tried to, after the first snap, but he’d been one of the victims. His world felt so small after everything, and he had a hard time imagining people having lives outside of his bubble. People being back when he couldn’t see them.
Harley told him he’d heard Tony had saved everyone, after he’d returned. He was about Peter’s age now, both of them teens even though they should’ve been in their 20s by now.
“You wanna come over?” Tony asked. “Or can I come see you?”
“I’ll come over. Old men like you shouldn’t travel.”
“Brat.”
Harley was laughing on the other end, and Tony felt his heart soar. He’d missed their phone calls.
No one questioned Tony flying a kid they’d never met over. They’d heard of him, of course, but Tony had a feeling he could bring just about anyone to the lakehouse and no one would say a word. Saving the world - and almost dying - had its perks.
“Peter offered you to have his room for the weekend,” Tony said.
Harley, taller than Tony now that bastard, put his bag down. “Is Peter your son?”
“Something like that. But don’t you worry.” Tony nudged him in the ribs. “You were my first born pain in the ass.”
Morgan adored him, just like she’d adored Peter and Nebula. They all had an obvious soft spot for her too, but Harley fell in love. For two whole days, he wouldn’t stop carrying her. Tony jokingly asked if he was gonna try to sneak her into his bag before leaving.
“Don’t tempt me,” Harley had said, giving Morgan a squeeze.
His weekend turned into a week, which just so happened to be the same week Nebula was coming over. Suddenly their lakehouse felt a bit smaller, but his heart so much fuller.
“I can sleep with Harley and Nebula can have Peter’s room and Peter can sleep with you,” Morgan was saying, and Tony had to laugh at Peter’s scandalized face as he said, “The couch works just fine, really.”
They compromised. Morgan slept with him and Pepper, Nebula got Morgan’s room and Harley stayed in Peter’s while Peter took the couch, stating that he could just go home but chose to stay, therefore he wasn’t forced to sleep on the couch.
Despite all the love in the house, Tony had a nightmare that night. He woke up trembling, heart beating so wildly that he was scared he was dying. He wasn’t dying. Not anymore. He was merely reliving it; dying.
He rolled over to find Pepper and Morgan asleep, breathing calmly. Unaware of his breaking heart. He watched them for a moment, willing the sight to fix it, before he left the bed, left the room, and let his feet steer him to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass of water, he walked to the living room and watched Peter sleep, mumbling something, but it didn’t seem to be because of a nightmare. Tony hadn’t caught him crying again, but he knew it didn’t mean he never did. He himself was a living example of people not always noticing when you were cracking.
He took a sip of his water and moved on, toward the room were Harley was sleeping. He stopped before the door, listening. Opening it just a crack to find him curled up, back toward him, but breathing deeply enough that Tony knew he was asleep. He had no idea how Harley actually felt. If the snap had been traumatic. If he felt like he’d missed out on things. They hadn’t talked about it. Maybe they had to.
Another sip. He closed the door.
It took him longer to enter Nebula’s room. He felt that, out of everyone, she was the most likely one to be lying awake, thinking and overthinking. Maybe that was why he should enter. Give her some sense of peace in not being alone in that.
He cracked the door open, sticking his head in. She’d never looked so calm as she currently did. Her ever present frown all smoothed out, her mouth half open. Tony left immediately. Couldn’t bare the thought of accidentally waking her.
He took another sip and by the time he re-entered the kitchen his water was gone. He felt better. His heart felt more whole.
He was aware it would always be like this, but for once his reality was enough to make it worth it. He had his wife, best friends, and four kids. He’d saved the world for them and was grateful for it every single day. Life after the second or third snap was more than he could’ve asked for, really.
He went back to bed, Morgan claiming his prosthetic arm immediately.
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lazygeisha · 4 years
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tagged by @thewickling for “wick wips” - thank you for thinking of me! 💖 I don’t really write anymore as it seems my muse has left me, probably backpacking around Europe getting drunk and partying- lucky muse. I feel horrible that I’ve left an unfinished story over at AO3, but apparently not horrible enough to force myself to finish it. 
I *would* however, like to someday finish this ChuxGuo WIP I have on my computer, if only for myself because I have NO idea if anyone reads or ships ChuxGuo anymore - I will love them forever, but I’m weird.
“A Little Less Conversation. Perfect.” slightly long excerpt:
The door opened in the middle of Guo’s second knock, the hand poised to rap again snatched to pull him inside. Chu Ge’s warm, gentle smile was enhanced by the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the apartment; so many candles were lit, he’d have suspected a power failure if he hadn’t seen the hall light working perfectly. His boyfriend’s outfit was different than the usual clothing he wore; snugger if that were possible, the not-quite-buttoned button up shirt showing off more of his chest than the normal tank top.
“Hi.” The word was spoken softly, seductively, prequel to a lingering kiss which left them both a little dazed, despite several months of dating and innumerable kisses. “Mmmm... Are you hungry?” When those words were spoken like that, growled into the kiss, it felt like there was more to that question than was asked, the breathy “uh huh” an answer to the underlying question.
“Confess, how many cookies did you eat?” Chu seemed to enjoy the flush creeping over his boyfriend’s face. “Two.” When the silence lingered, he sighed and admitted, “Five.” Guo Chang Cheng found himself pulled into an affectionate hug, an amusement-filled kiss pressed to his hair with words that sounded very much like “God, I love you” said so quietly he almost missed them. Startled, he pulled back enough to search Chu Ge’s face for any sign of sarcasm or joking. All he found was a pair of mocha eyes gazing back at him with adoration, sort of goofy tilt to his expressive lips. “Yeah, I do”, a hint of surprise in his voice.
~~~
He’d not meant to confess, he didn’t realise he’d slipped into love until his boyfriend tried to lie, badly, about his cookie intake. He’d never felt love for anyone before except his brother, hadn’t ever had the intensity of feeling like this, the urge to protect, to possess someone entirely, to make someone else happy no matter what it took. There was something in Guo Chang Cheng that triggered the urge to build a life with him, in that instant he recognized without hesitation that there would never be anyone more perfect for him, never be anyone who with a simple glance of those cinnamon eyes could reduce him to a mass of staggering want, make him think of a home… Children. He was sure his words were unexpected when disbelief shown on his boyfriend’s face, in a way that slightly hurt. He’d tried so hard to show him that he was loved, cared for, and yet he hadn’t seen it. Had fled to his safe, happy place to eat cookies and play with kittens, alone. “So, next time you’re hurt, come to me. Or take me with you. I like cookies and kittens too. But I love you.”
Xiao Guo moved his mouth to reply, nothing came out. Those gorgeous cinnamon eyes glittered with tears, some of which overflowed and slid down his face. Shu Zhi cupped his jaw with careful hands, brushing his thumbs to wipe away the moisture before pulling him in for another kiss. After a moment, he felt more than heard “I love you too” murmured on his lips, felt hands slide up to pull him deeper. Tongues teased languidly as if they had all the time in the world, small sounds of passion slipped out and echoed in the apartment, caresses exchanged; all of this wasn’t new; now, however, there was more than just desire fueling them.
Before it got out of hand, he kissed his way along his boyfriend’s jawline to lightly lick his ear. “I promised I’d feed you, so we need to stop.” Snorting at Xiao Guo’s grumble of dissatisfaction, he stepped out of his arms to pull him towards the sofa. “Luckily you’ve eaten five cookies so you won’t be starving. This isn’t actually really dinner, more of a demonstration.” He picked up a black piece of cloth off the sofa, holding it up. “You need to wear this.” Those glittering eyes widened in outright shock. “Um, what?” Chu repeated himself. “You. Need to wear. This. Trust me?” He cajoled, “Please?” when Chang Cheng paused, then gave a hesitant nod of the head.
He removed the ever-present shoulder bag, dropped it next to the sofa and turned him around. “Let me know if it’s too tight. I don’t want you to be able to see, okay?” Slipping on the blindfold, he tied a firm knot. “Good?” A quick nod in response. “Okay, sit here for a moment, don’t touch.” Chang Cheng was gently placed on the floor, back to the sofa. “I’ll be right back.”
~~~
He heard Chu Ge move off to do whatever, feeling a little weird with a black cloth covering half his face. Tonight was both wonderful and slightly strange. He was still buzzing with the confession, nerves thrumming with both the aftereffects of the kiss and the fact that he was sitting on the floor in literal blind trust while his boyfriend prepared him for something. All of that overlaid with a feeling of being home, wanted. Maybe he could finally work up the courage to take his clothes off.
The sound of returning footsteps alerted him to whatever was going to happen next, the thunk of plates being placed on the low table in front of him sounding louder in the silent room than it should.
“Okay, scootch up a bit.” Hands pushed him a little forward, he felt Chu Ge slip in and sit behind him, his legs bracketing his own body. “Comfy?” Comfy? Try turned on? Excited? Nervous? “Um... yeah.”
Whispers in his ear, accompanied by the graze of his boyfriend stubble sent shivers over his skin. “Good. Now, taste this.” He felt something cool and damp against his lips, scented lightly like peach. He opened them up to let his boyfriend slip it in, feeling a thumb brush his closed lips. “Chew and swallow, please.” The finger continued to caress his lips as he did as requested. “Try this.” Another cool, moist piece of peach was placed in his mouth, this one more fragrant, again asked to chew and swallow. “Which one was better, Xiao Guo? First or second?”
Trying to speak was proving difficult. “Um, the second one. It was sweeter.” He felt arms come around him and hug him quickly. “Good, good. Now try this.” A small, round object was placed at his lips. “Open.” Blueberry. Again another round object was placed against his lips, smaller this time, again was requested to taste it. “Which one did you like more? One or two?” Chu Ge seemed very happy that his answer was two, it earned him a kiss on the temple.
And so it went for the next few minutes; asparagus, shrimp, strawberries, raspberries. Each time a request for Xiao Guo to tell him which tasted better, each time a reward for the ‘right’ answer. Finally, the blindfold was removed and Chang Cheng blinked at the soft candlelight, re-accustoming his eyes to the room. In front of him on the low table were all the things he’d sampled, two of each kind, one larger than the other. He turned questioning eyes on his boyfriend, saw a slow smile steal across his lips. “Every single time, Xiao Guo, you chose the smaller one. You said the smaller one tasted better. Do you understand now that bigger isn’t always better?” Chu Shi Zhi stood up, pulled him to his feet, wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, mocha eyes gazing into cinnamon ones. “Smaller things are as good, if not often better, love, than larger things. That idiot in gym class couldn’t appreciate you for you. It sucks for him and I’m sorry he hurt you, but I’m happy for me that I grabbed you and he didn’t.”
Xiao Guo gave up even trying to hold back the tears. Unable to express his overwhelming emotions, he simply clung to his boyfriend like he was the only thing keeping him alive and let them flow. Soothing hands swept up and down his spine, calming, reassuring; utterances of love and comfort washing over him, easing the storm. Finally, he relaxed, mumbling quiet apologies into Chu Ge’s shoulder. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to turn into a mess.”
He felt a small kiss on his forehead. “It’s fine, don’t be upset. You know I had an ulterior motive for this, right?” His boyfriend wiggled his eyebrows in what was supposed to be a provocative way. “Ugh, please don’t do that, you look like Chief Zhao when you do that and it kinda kills the mood.” He did not want to think about his boss when he was contemplating getting naked with his boyfriend.
tagging @mansikkaomenabanaani, @darkice712, @theswiftiewholived, @florbexter 
NONE of you have to do it, but I am curious about your WIPs.
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arc852 · 5 years
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Toy Inside
Summary: Roman finds himself trapped in a cereal box that promises a toy inside. The cereal is then bought. 
Warnings: Fear, panic, being trapped and passing out.
 Roman had been in way over his head.
 He can admit that, especially when he found himself in his current predicament.
 That predicament being stuck in a sealed box of cereal.
 How had it happened? Well, see, Roman hadn’t lived in a human house, like most other borrowers. He lived in a cereal making factory because he had all the food he could eat and tons of space to explore. And despite the number of human’s manning the machines, they were always too busy to be a threat.
 The only thing Roman hadn’t liked about it, was the lack of other borrowers. Because apparently, no other borrower thought it was a good idea. Too dangerous, they had said when he asked. Roman had simply rolled his eyes, at the time.
 Now he was regretting not having listened to them.
 All it had taken was a simple stumble on a rather high railing for him to fall into an open box of cereal. Part of Roman was thankful since if he had fallen anywhere else he would surely be dead. But as the box closed and he was cloaked in darkness, Roman felt a sense of dread well up in him.
 Roman wasn’t sure how long he had been in the box. He was thankful that he had more than enough food and had been mindful enough to bring his water with him. So he didn’t have to worry about starving or dehydration.
 He just had to be worried about the human that bought his box of cereal.
 Slowly, the noises outside went from a deep rumble to the sounds of voices. Many loud voices. Humans.
 It came from all around him and Roman could only imagine he was now in some sort of grocery store. This became more apparent when his box was moved in a way that had yet to happen before. He was being placed on a shelf.
 After that, it was another waiting game, though he did not have to wait as long. In fact, Roman was pretty sure it was the same day.
 “Oh! This one comes with a toy inside!” A bubbly voice spoke and Roman couldn’t help but flinch as the box was once again moved, tilted up slightly. He grumbled silently as he landed and crushed a few cereal pieces.
 Of course, he would fall into one of the few boxes that advertised having a toy inside. Of course.
 His only saving grace was that though the voice was childlike, the human was by no means a child. Humans were bad, but human children were far worse. Small victories he supposed.
 He felt the box lower into something. “And with that, I think I’m all done!” The voice spoke again and Roman was once again on the move. Roman’s heart beat faster and the dread from before was almost overwhelming as he realized the cereal-and by extension himself-were about to be bought.
***
 Roman felt himself going through the motions of a box of cereal being bought. He heard the beep of the scanner as it scanned the tag, felt himself being placed inside a car, and heard the car startup. Then, they were driving. As they were Roman stopped to think for a moment.
 How was he going to get out of there?
 He had no means to chip away the cardboard and the human was sure to open the box way before he was able to get through anyway. No, he had to think of something else. He had to, or else he would be caught and who knows what the human would do to him.
 His thought were interrupted when the car came to a stop, the engine shutting off. Roman wished the car ride could have gone on a little longer as he felt the human gather up the bag, but knew that would just delay the inevitable.
 He was placed down and he heard the human start to hum to himself as other noises happened. Roman could only assume the human was putting his groceries away. And then, he felt his box being picked up.
 “Hmm...should I wait for tomorrow or open it and get the toy now?” The human asked himself. Roman’s eyes widened, silently hoping the human would leave it for tomorrow in order to give him more time to think of a plan. But of course, today was just not Roman’s lucky day. “Oh, I can’t wait! I’ll get the toy now!”
 He heard and felt the top of the box being ripped away and for the first time in what felt like a long time, light hit him. He briefly caught a glance at a freckled face before it was replaced by a hand.
 Okay, Roman had to make a decision now or else he would be caught.
 As the hand wrapped around his body, he suddenly realized what the human actually thought he was. A toy. And so, Roman made the split second decision to freeze his body as the hand brought him up and into the light.
 He was face to face with a glasses wearing, freckled faced human and it took everything in him not to shake in fear. He didn’t stop breathing, but he kept them shallow, hoping the human  wouldn’t be able to pick up on it.
 “Oh, wow!” The human exclaimed and Roman found himself being turned every which way by the human’s hands. “This doll is so realistic…” The human said in awe. A thumb was placed on his chest and Roman prayed that the human wouldn’t be able to feel his rapid heartbeats. The human paused.
 “Huh?” The human’s eyebrows furrowed and he brought Roman up closer, towards his ear. Forgetting that he was supposed to be a doll at the moment, Roman squirmed. He then immediately tensed when he realized what he had done.
 The human froze and slowly lowered Roman until he was in front of him again. “Did you just...move?” Roman stayed still, mentally panicking. He just wanted the human to put him down somewhere so he could escape.
 The human kept his eyes on him and Roman was forced to do the same. The two were seemingly locked in a staring contest.
 And then Roman blinked.
 “I knew it!” The human exclaimed, eyes going wide. “You...you are real.” Welp, his cover was blown. Nothing he could do about that now, so, he came alive in the human’s hand and started to struggle against the grip with all his might. He nearly felt himself slip out of the human’s hands, before the human yelped in surprise and gripped him tighter.
 “Whoa, whoa! It’s okay, little guy, it’s okay!” The human tried, but Roman wasn’t falling for it.
 “Let me go!” Roman shouted. That caused another wide eyed stare out of the human, before he quickly shook himself out of it.
 “R-Right! I am so sorry.” He lowered his hands to the counter below, allowing Roman to get off. Roman immediately jumped to a stand, backing up a few steps as he stared from the human to the area around him. This was an unknown place, he had no idea where any entrances into the walls would be, if there even was any. He could run, but he wouldn’t get far and there was no way for him to hide, not with the human still watching him.
 He was trapped.
 Except this was a lot worse than being trapped in a cereal box.
 The human bit his lip and slowly knelt down so he was a bit more eye level with Roman. The borrower took a few more steps back. “There, see? You’re okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” Roman wanted to scoff at that. “I’m sorry for grabbing you like that, I didn’t know.”
 Silence fell between them. “Um, my name is Patton by the way! What’s yours?” The human-Patton, tried to ask, but Roman remained silent.
 “...I’m guessing you're not a toy that happened to come alive, huh?” Roman blinked and found himself shaking his head as an answer. Patton seemed to perk up a little at that. “So...how did you end up in there? Are you okay?”
 Okay, now Roman was confused. Why was the human asking how he was? Where was the continued grabbing and poking? The derogatory terms? The pain? He narrowed his eyes at the human.
 “What game are you playing at?” He asked, causing Patton to take a step back in surprise, now standing up straight.
 “W-What?” The human looked confused, maybe a little sad but Roman wasn’t falling for that.
 “I know how you humans work. You’re trying to gain my trust so you can break me or some crap!” Roman practically growled out. If he was going to be kept or killed he at least didn’t want all this bullcrap before it. It just made it worse.
 Somehow, Patton seemed sadder. “No! I-I’m not trying to do that at all!” Roman scoffed, taking a few steps forward as he pointed an accusatory finger up at Patton.
 “Likely story you foul sorry excuse for a-” He was cut off as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. He groaned as he stopped and placed his head in his hands.
 ���Little guy? Are you okay?” He thought he heard Patton ask, but he was too focused on how dizzy he was feeling to really comprehend anything else. Why did his head suddenly hurt so bad. Wait...When was the last time he slept? Roman tried to think back, but his mind was turning foggy. He doesn’t think he remembers ever falling inside the cereal box though.
 He wasn’t sure how long that was, but it had to have been a while if he was feeling this bad. He fell to his hands and knees, trying to fight back but failing miserably. The last thing he needed was to pass out with a human literally right there.
 “Kiddo?” A very concerned voice reached his foggy mind, but that was the last thing he was aware of as he collapsed to the ground completely.
 Seems like everything just wanted to go wrong for him today.
***
 Roman woke up surrounded by a large fluffy blanket. His eyes felt heavy as he opened them and his head still ached, but the overall dizzy feeling was gone. As was the fog. As he looked around, he realized he was in a bedroom...a human bedroom...on top of a human bed.
 Great.
 “Oh good, you’re awake!” A voice spoke right next to him, causing Roman to jump and look at the offender. Patton stood over him on his right, looking at him with a small smile but concern still in his eyes. Roman didn’t know how he missed him in the first place, maybe his head was still a bit foggy.
 “Ah, sorry about that.” Patton spoke, voice lower now. “How are you feeling?”
 Roman swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering if he should answer. “...Better.” He ended up saying after a lot of hesitation. He saw Patton’s eyes go wide once again, a grin quickly following.
 “That’s good! I got so worried when I saw you had passed out.” The human let out a quick sigh of relief. This only caused confusion in Roman.
 “Why?” He suddenly asked, throwing Patton off guard a little. He blinked and titled his head.
 “Why what?” Patton asked back. Roman grit his teeth.
 “Why are you so worried? Why do you care? You-You’re a human.” Roman couldn’t keep the terror out of his voice at that last bit. He turned away, not noticing as Patton’s eyes went sad.
 “You’re right, I am a human.” Roman flinched and braced himself, thinking the human was about to show his true colors. But Patton just kept talking. “But that doesn’t have anything do with the fact that I care about you.” Roman blinked, looking up. He was taken aback by the still present sadness in Patton’s eyes.
 “And I know that’s a little weird since we just met and all.” Patton admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s the truth. Even if you don’t believe me.”
 Roman bit his lip, at a loss of what to do. Patton honestly didn’t...seem that bad. In fact, as far as humans went, he would say he is the kindest he has seen. He hadn’t been hurt, the human had helped him when he passed out and now he was even claiming to care about him. And Roman couldn’t hear anything but sincereness in Patton’s voice.
 “I...believe you.” He said, surprising both Patton and himself.
 “You do?” Patton asked hopefully, eyes lit up. Roman searched those eyes, again, coming up with no signs of malice. So Roman nodded.
 “Yeah, I guess...I mean, if you were going to do something, you would have done it by now, right?” Unless Patton’s whole game was to get Roman to trust him and then betray him, but somehow, Roman just didn’t believe that anymore.
 “Right! All I wanted was to make sure you were okay, kiddo.” Patton smiled softly at Roman, and Roman shifted, fidgeting with the blanket for a moment.
 “Roman.”
 “Huh?”
 “It’s my name.” Roman explained, giving the human a small smile in return. Patton blinked before his confused frown turned into a huge grin.
 “Well, Roman, it’s nice to meet you!” Roman chuckled.
 “It’s nice to meet you as well, Patton.” Roman shifted again, looking around. “So...now what?”
 Patton frowned. “Oh! Uh...Do you have anywhere to go? Anywhere I could drop you off?” Roman thought for a moment. He...didn’t think it would be a good idea to go back to the factory. Though he hated to admit it, the other borrowers were right. It was much too dangerous. But that left the question of where he could go.
 “I...no, I don’t.” He admitted. Still trying to think of something.
 Patton hummed sadly before his eyes lit up with an idea, but he bit his lip. He was nervous to ask, they had just met after all. And he had a feeling Roman was still scared of him...But Patton also couldn’t just not offer. Especially if Roman had nowhere else to go.
 “You could stay with me.” Patton said. “O-Only if you want to, of course. I’m not going to force you.” He wanted to make that clear.
 Roman’s head snapped up towards the human, eyes wide. “What?” Had he heard the human correctly? “You would just let me...stay with you?” Roman’s eyes narrowed, suddenly suspicious again. “What’s the catch?”
 Patton put his hands up as a form of surrender. “No catch! I’d simply let you stay here, give you your space, provide you with food to eat, things like that. We’d be...roommates.” Patton grinned.
 Roommates...That didn’t sound half bad to Roman. But could he do it? It went against everything he had ever been taught. He’d be breaking every borrower rule in existence.
 ...Somehow, though, that just made Roman want to accept the offer even more.
 It would be dangerous and he didn’t trust Patton, not yet, not fully anyway. But maybe, in this case, the pros outweighed the cons.
 Besides, what other borrower could say they were roommates with a human.
 “Okay. I say we give it a try.” Roman said after several moments, causing Patton to look surprised.
 “Really?” Roman nodded and Patton grinned. “Oh, I’m so happy! I promise Roman, I’ll be the best roommate you’ve ever had!” Patton would be the first roommate he had ever had, but he kept that to himself. He found that he liked seeing the human happy.
 Suddenly, Patton’s hand came towards him and Roman tensed, bracing himself to be picked up. Had he already made a mistake? But...no, Patton’s hand stopped just short of the borrower. His pointer finger held out. When he looked up at Patton’s face, he looked sheepish. “Sorry for the scare but uh...shake on it?”
 Oh, so that’s what Patton was doing. Roman snorted and shifted forward a little. With slight hesitation, he stuck his arm out and grabbed the tip of Patton’s finger. As they shook hands Roman spared a glance up at Patton once more, noticing the soft but excited smile on his face.
 Roman found himself matching it. He was in for quite the adventure.
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artificialqueens · 5 years
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Summer with Strangers, Chapter 1 (group fic) - Grey Darling
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a/n: So, for those of you read my fics before I vanished for a while, you’ll remember the original version of Summer with Strangers. Unfortunately, the files for the unfinished original have been lost, so I have to start writing from scratch. I have made some alterations to the plot to keep the rewritten stuff a bit fresher, but from chapter nine onwards there’ll be all new content. Sound good? Enjoy the fic!
It was raining.
Manila watched as the droplets cascaded down the window, chasing each other as though they were competing in a race. She’d do the same thing when she was a child, sitting in the back of one of her parents’ many flash cars on the way to some gala or ball or charity event. If she thought hard enough, she could send herself back there, back to that innocent childhood before everything went to hell in a handbasket. When she was happy, free, innocent, and not riding in the back of a van with a bunch of delinquents.
But she wasn’t the odd one out in that worn-out vehicle - she was just as much of a delinquent as the other girls, if not more so depending on what they’d all done to wind up attending Camp Silver Lining. The brochure had promised a rehabilitating experience, where girls who had fallen by the wayside could discover new passions, better themselves, and reintroduce themselves into society before it was too late. In Manila’s opinion, it was pointless - well, for her, anyway.
Yes, she’d shoplifted, but it wasn’t for pleasure - it was for survival. Manila’s parents never told her exactly how they lost their fortune, but they did, and that was all that mattered. Gone were the fancy cars and galas, replaced by public transport and TV dinners, and sometimes not even that. Because the fact of the matter was that Mr. and Mrs. Luzon didn’t give a shit about their children, all four of them. They cared about drinking, earning enough money to look after themselves, and drinking some more. Manila, being the oldest of their daughters, had no choice but to take responsibility. Perhaps it was cruel - sixteen-year-olds shouldn’t be acting as a parent to their younger siblings - but what choice did she have?
Better to sacrifice her teenage freedom than see her sisters starve.
But, this being the twenty-first century, jobs were hard to get. Impossible, even, and nobody wanted to hire a sixteen-year-old who lived on the wrong side of town. So what else could she do? No money, no food. She’d never wanted to steal, but in the end, she had no choice. She had to feed and clothe her sisters somehow, right?
At first, nobody noticed. Manila made sure to present herself in as polished a fashion as she could, blending in with the crowd and making sure nobody would suspect her of theft. She got away with it for months, until one day she finally didn’t, and, well, that’s how she ended up in a van driving to the middle of nowhere with seven other juvenile delinquents.
“God, Juju, it’s actually the worst here and we haven’t even arrived yet.” The girl sitting beside Manila had been on her phone to the mysterious Juju for the entire ride, whinging and bitching and complaining the whole time. Whoever Juju was, she must have the patience of a saint because Manila was just about ready to slap her if she heard one more complaint again.
Not like she ever would - this girl looked tougher than Manila could ever hope to be. Snakebite piercings adorned her plump lip, her makeup was dark and intimidating and painted to perfection, her jet black hair cut into harsh bangs, and her outfit, while edgy in the most fashionable of ways, was in no way suited to camp life. Manila, in comparison, was all bright colours and mismatched socks and frizzy hair. No doubt she’d make Manila’s life a misery if she so much as said hi.
“Dammit, why can’t you be a criminal like me? I need a fucking friend here,” she complained in her phone, its case decorated with a black and silver bird. “I have to spend three weeks with these people, and I can’t even call you because the camp has fuck all in terms of cell service.”
There was a beat of silence as Juju made her reply, but her voice was too quiet and the rain was too loud for her to make it out. There was no doubt in Manila’s mind that everybody was listening in to the conversation between the criminal and her friend. Nobody else had said a single word after the first ten minutes of the ride, some girls attempting to introduce themselves but getting nothing in return. Manila had been one of those girls - surely making a friend or two would make these next few weeks less hellish - but snakebite girl gave her a glare so cold Manila felt herself shiver.
It rather set the tone, didn’t it?
“Huh? What’d you say?” the girl asked, raising her voice a little and drawing attention to herself. “I can’t hear you, what? Oh shit, I think I’m losing service. Juju? Juju? Fuck!”
The girl shoved her phone into her pocket with a frustrated grunt, and Manila quickly turned back to the window to avoid confrontation. It seemed one girl wasn’t so clever, as snakebite girl soon took them to task.
“What’re you looking at?”
Judging from the lack of response, they learned their lesson rather quickly.
Now that snakebite girl was off her phone, Manila wondered if she might try and strike up a conversation, and she waited with bated breath for that moment to arrive. But she never did, the rest of the ride continuing in deathly silence, without so much as a tinny radio to break the ice.
Manila was just grateful she’d snagged the window seat.
*** It was still pouring with rain by the time they arrived at the camp itself, the sky grey and heavy with clouds, the sun getting little to no chance at shining through. Manila wondered if the horrible weather was a sign of what these next three weeks would be like - miserable, bleak, endless. She’d never had a problem with rain - she rather liked it, actually - but given that she was surrounded by strangers, separated from the neglected sisters that needed her most, it was easy to let the raindrops steadily beat her down.
But she couldn’t focus on the weather now. Not when one of the camp leaders was stepping towards them, her poof of blonde hair safe under an umbrella - a privilege the campers themselves were lacking. Manila brought her hand to her own dark, damp locks, curling the single blonde streak around her finger as she watched the woman approach the line of campers.
She was large-ish, very well put together - well, for a camp leader, anyway - and a very classy yet snooty air about her. Manila had no idea what a woman like her was doing at a summer camp for teenage criminals.
“Welcome, everyone! I hope the drive down here was as pleasant as it could be,” the woman said, her lips breaking into a smile. Nobody responded. “My name is Delta, and I’ll be one of the wonderful members of staff who’ll be looking after you over the next three weeks.”
“Wonderful, huh?” one of the girls piped up, her expression unreadable behind the massive pair of sunglasses that covered her eyes. “Kinda tooting your own horn there, doncha think?”
Delta thinned her lips, her friendly demeanour cracking as the first blow from an insolent teenager struck her - but really, what was she expecting? She carried on, ignoring the comment. “Anyway, here at Camp Silver Lining you’ll be able to get a second chance, discover new passions, and even make new friends!”
“Jesus, this sounds rehearsed…”
Manila glanced over to the girl who had whispered to her, and her heart just about stopped at the absolute goddess that stood near her. Tall - well over six feet, tan - natural, by the looks of it - and both arms absolutely covered in tattoos. Her long dark hair fell about her shoulders in a messy yet effortless fashion, her deep green eyes shining even in the dull light. And she had this smile, this brilliant smile, almost cute, an anomaly in her otherwise sharp, modelesque style. Manila had no idea who this girl was, but she was just about the most stunning person she’d ever seen. Her mouth went dry at the sight of her, and she could only babble out an incoherent response before Delta stole their attention once more.
“You’ll find a schedule on your beds, and they’ll have all the details of what you’ll be getting up to this summer. Speaking of your beds, I’ll be showing you to your cabin shortly, then you’ll have half an hour to settle in and get to know each other before you’re expected in the main lodge. Any questions?”
“Yeah, can we get out of the fucking rain now?” that same girl with the glasses piped up, her pink lips thinned into a frown. With her damp, honey-colored hair and her sunglasses covered in raindrops, she looked terribly put out.
Delta mirrored her frown. “Yes, that’s just what we were getting to.”
The girl smirked, and she started forward, her bag rolling behind her, strolling straight past Delta. When it became apparent that no one was following her, either too wary of going against the rules or too curious to see what she’d do next, she turned around. “You bitches coming?”
***
The cabins were nothing to cheer about, but at least they were dry. Four bunk beds were pressed against the walls, two on the right and two on the left, each one covered with plain dark teal sheets. At the back of the room, there was space for their bags, but not much. There was only one window set into the wall, letting the grey day streak through, and no curtains, which bothered Manila immensely. She didn’t know why.
“Alright, there are name tags on your beds so you know which one is yours. I’ll be back in half an hour to bring you to the main lodge,” Delta stated, and after bidding the girls goodbye, she stepped out into the rain.
There was a moment of silence before the girl with the glasses moved forward, dumping her pale pink suitcase in the back and digging out her sleeping bag before heading over to her bunk, climbing up the ladder so she could set herself up. The other girls followed suit, and Manila was rather glad to find out that she’d been lucky enough to get a top bunk. Although was it lucky, really? She imagined there were all sorts of bugs that liked to hang out on the roof and crawl into people’s mouths while they slept. While the concept made her shudder a bit, there was very little she could do about it, so she carried on setting up her black and yellow sleeping bag.
A little while later, someone demanded her attention.
“Hiya!”
Glancing down, Manila spotted the incredibly busty blonde standing below her bed, most likely her bunkmate. Unlike the rest of her fellow campers, she was smiling.
“…Hi?”
“I’m Sonique! Nice to meetcha!” she said, her tone cheery and her accent southern. “Looks like we’re bunkmates, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I’m Manila.”
Sonique tipped her head, her brow creasing as she frowned. “Manila… like the folder?”
“No, like the city in the Philippines,” Manila explained, finding her cluelessness more charming than irritating. “It’s the capital.”
“Oh cool! So, are you from there?” Sonique asked, leaning against the top bunk.
“The Philippines?”
“Yeah!”
“No, my grandparents are, though,” Manila explained. Although she had Philipino heritage and was named after the damn capital, she knew next to nothing about her motherland. Both sets of grandparents had died before she was born, and her parents were born in the USA and had only been as children. Even if they were more connected with their culture, the Luzons would never have returned to their home country - at first, it was low on their list of priorities, but then when money became an issue, there was no hope of traveling to the next state over, let alone going to another country. Manila always thought it was a shame - she would’ve liked to have gone.
“That’s so cool! I’m just from Atlanta, nothin’ special,” Sonique told her. “But I guess you could tell from my accent, right?”
Manila nodded, and the two carried on in a pleasant conversation for a little while. It was nice, meeting a camper who was an actual human being rather than a raging factory of angst, and Manila hoped that she and Sonique could be friends. She needed one, at least.
“So, what’d ya do to get on this camp, anyway?” Sonique asked.
“I shoplifted.”
“Oh, that’s kinda like what I did!” Sonique said with a little bounce. “I stole from online places to get stuff for free for ages before they caught me. They called it fraud or somethin’.”
“How’d you do it?” Manila asked, genuinely curious. Maybe it was just Manila believing an outdated stereotype, but Sonique seemed like a textbook dumb blonde - how the hell had she got away with committing fraud for so long?
“Well, I ordered the shoes and clothes an’ stuff with my momma’s credit card, then once they arrived, rang up the company to say that hadn’t arrived, then got my money back,” Sonique explained. “Worked well until I got caught.
“Sounds like it,” Manila replied, almost impressed with her strategy.
But then the dreaded question was asked.
“So why’d you steal your stuff?”
Manila didn’t want to talk about why she’d done what she did, because that would mean discussing her little sisters. Her little sisters that she abandoned. Who had no one to look after them but her. She’d been ignoring the thought of them all day, knowing that panic and worry would consume her the moment she pictured one of their wide eyed, sallow little faces, and she wasn’t about to start thinking about them now.
“I- I’d rather not say…”
Sonique nodded slowly, and although she tried to keep the conversation going, Manila had lost the desire to chat simply because of that one question. In the end, Sonique moved onto snakebite girl, hoping to make a friend in her as well. Good luck to her was all Manila could say.
In stepping out of the realm of conversation, Manila took a moment to look over the campers whose beds were on the other side of the room. The girl with the sunglasses was reading a magazine she’d brought with her, not bothering to chat with her bunkmate below - a girl whose skin and hair was so pale Manila wondered if she’d ever been outside in her life. The heavy, gothic makeup she wore didn’t help to darken her complexion, making her look whiter than ever - in fact, it looked like she’d just smeared her face with white paint and called it foundation.
Next to them were two people who couldn’t look more different. On the top bunk was your standard Instagram beauty, her caramel hair tied up into a sharp, slicked-back ponytail, her fit, toned body fitting perfectly into her skin tight work out clothes. She looked way too gorgeous to be a teenager, but she must be if she was here. Underneath was a tough-looking redhead, the ripped sleeves of her black t-shirt showing off her slightly muscular arms, her hair cut into a jagged pixie cut, her legs covered in bandaids and bruises, and she had a tattoo on her shoulder. If Manila thought snakebite girl looked mean, this girl looked absolutely hateful.
She didn’t see the tall tattooed beauty until it was too late.
“Looks like we’re neighbours.”
Manila turned around and choked back a gasp at the sight of her crush, sprawled out on the top bunk right next door to her own. Even in such a hapless pose, she looked like she belonged on the cover of some fashion magazine - she was all long legs and visible skin, her tank top and denim shorts showing off every inch of her skinny, skinny body. She was cracking that same grin as before, the cute one, the one that made Manila feel as though the world was filled with sunshine.
“Uh, yeah, guess so!” Manila replied, perhaps a little too enthusiastic.
“So, what do you reckon? Think we’re gonna survive three whole weeks in the middle of nowhere?” she asked, crossing one long leg over the other.
Manila struggled to think of a response that made her sound as cool as she wanted to come across as. “I, uh, I think we’re gonna be fine. Uh, yeah. Fine!”
“Right…” from the way she cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at her, Manila knew she’d messed up already. But she was still smiling - what did it all mean? “So, you got a name?”
“M- Manila. Luzon. Like in the Philippines,” Manila blurted out, praying to god that she didn’t sound as awkward as she thought she did.
“Oh, thank god I’m not the only Asian here,” the girl remarked, chuckling a little. “Indonesian.”
“I’ve never been to Indonesian.”
A beat of silence. “…You mean Indonesia, right?”
Manila’s face grew red as a cherry faster than you could say ‘idiot’. “Oh, right, yeah… shit…”
“Oh my god…” the girl started laughing, and Manila felt a little sick at the thought of being a subject of ridicule for this beautiful, goddess of a woman. “You’re cute, Manila.”
Well, that came out of the blue.
“I- I am?”
“Kinda, yeah. I like your hair, by the way.” The girl pointed at Manila’s blonde streak, and its owner smiled bashfully.
“Oh yeah, um… thanks…” She couldn’t believe it - the literal definition of beauty liked her hair! It was a miracle! “I saved up ages to get it done.”
The girl smiled again. “It looks good. So, what’d you do to get in here? Something bad?”
“Kind of,” Manila replied. “I shoplifted.”
Tilting her head back, the girl looked at her with a curious glance, her wide grin turning into a little smirk. “Well, hello Winona Ryder…”
Before Manila could get an explanation, the cabin door creaked open and the fluffy blonde head of Delta poked through. It seemed half an hour had been enough time for her to compose herself from the earlier backchat because she was back to her original cheery self. “Alright girls, time to get a move on!”
The girl didn’t say a proper goodbye as everyone started filing out of the room, just raising her eyes at Manila before swinging her long legs over the side of the bunk and hopping down, not even using the ladder. Too distracted by her crush, Manila didn’t move a muscle, just watching her as she sauntered out of the room and into the rain.
It was only when Delta ordered her out a second time that Manila snapped out of her stupor, shaking her head as if to clear it and quietly apologising before scrambling out the door, hanging her head to hide her blush. 
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lilacmoon83 · 4 years
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Finding You Always
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Chapter 198: Hopeful Hearts
After training finished for the day, the Charmings, Golds, and Hood-Mills families proceeded to Granny's for some much needed sustenance.
"I was terrible...you make it look so easy, Dad," Bobby complained, as they found a table. David chuckled.
"I have years and years of practice on you, buddy. I was terrible too at first, but I learned and you will too," he assured, as they were about to flag down a waitress, but saw that Joe already had them delivery food to the large table, family style.
"Family style dining tonight. I knew this brood would be showing up famished," he announced.
"Oh you are the best…" Leo said, as he took a burger for each hand.
"Thank you Joe," Snow said graciously.
"Anything for this family," he replied fondly, as he went back to help get drinks and keep the food coming.
"So...I know that we've all been really preoccupied with everything that's been going on, but I don't think we should let that stop us from happy things," Snow said, as she looked at Leo and Elsa, even as her son was shoveling food in his mouth. Elsa smiled at her.
"Well...I've never had a wedding before and I have to admit that I really have no idea how to plan one," she mentioned. Snow grinned.
"But I do and I would love to help you plan this wedding," she said. Elsa smiled back.
"I'd love that too," she agreed.
"Good...I'm so glad you said that, because I have so many ideas. Honey...is my binder in the truck?" she asked. David smiled.
"Of course," he replied. A look of excitement lit up her features.
"I'll be right back," Snow said, as she ran out to the truck for a moment. David chuckled.
"Seriously...is no one going to reign her in even a little?" Leo asked in trepidation.
"Not when she's this happy," David replied. He sighed.
"Yeah...I guess. But no singing and choreographed dance numbers," he muttered. Elsa chuckled.
"Oh I don't know, that sounds kind of fun," she teased, as Snow returned and opened up her book.
"Okay...so I was thinking that the reserve would be the perfect place for the wedding since it's such a special place for you both," Snow said.
"I love that," Elsa agreed.
"Huh...yeah, me too. That's kind of perfect, actually," Leo said.
"That way all the animals can attend. They love you and wouldn't want to miss it," Snow said, as she flipped through her book.
"And then I was thinking with a little magic, you can build a few ice sculptures and even an ice castle with an archway," she continued.
"That sounds amazing. But can we talk about the cake?" Elsa asked.
"She means can we make the cake chocolate and everything else chocolate too," Leo clarified for her and Snow smiled.
"I think Frankie can do chocolate," she said.
"Sure thing...I have a chocolate wedding cake that is to die for," he called from the kitchen. They shared a smile and went back to eating and discussing their upcoming nuptials, as others carried on conversations and were able to relax a bit after a stressful day.
~*~
Winter moaned sleepily and stretched her arms above her head, as she finally woke up. She and Charming had spent most of the day in bed and then fell asleep. Now she was awake late in the evening and smiled at her sleeping husband beside her. Their incredible lovemaking had lasted most of the afternoon and well into the evening, before sleep had finally took them in a sated, blissful state. As usual, they hadn't been able to get enough of each other and it fueled their stamina. And even though it was half past midnight already, she was starving and knew he'd awake the same soon. So she plucked her husband's black tunic from the floor and donned it, before tiptoeing down to the kitchen.
"What the hell are you doing?" The Evil Queen asked, as she poofed into their castle.
"Excuse me? What the hell are you doing back here in my castle?" Winter growled, as they came face to face.
"I've been working hard all day in order to protect your son! While you have apparently been in bed with your idiot husband!" The Queen hissed.
"Charming and I needed that time! And don't you dare imply that we are not going to be working just as hard to protect our son!" Winter snapped.
"Oh yeah, because screwing your husband really helps your child," the Queen shot back.
"Need I remind you that it was my Charming that killed that evil witch that was going to hurt our baby?" She retorted.
"And don't worry...we plan to be very busy making sure Seth never touches him," she added.
"Well, that's going to be a lot harder than you think, princess," the Queen hissed.
"And you'll need my Intel, which would cost you if it wasn't for Bobby being the reason for it," she added, as the two women glared at each other. Winter crossed her arms over her chest.
"Fine...what did you find out?" Winter questioned.
"As much as I hate to admit it...Seth fears your son. And even you and your husband. Or rather your lighter halves," the Queen said.
"Then he is going to try to destroy us," Winter replied.
"Actually...he would prefer not to fight you at all. He's that worried, though I think he's giving you two idiots too much credit," the Queen said. Winter smirked smugly.
"He should be worried and you know better than anyone what happens when you go against our true love," Winter boasted.
"Ugh...I can't decide what's worse. Your smug arrogance or your other half's penchant for rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers," the Queen complained.
"It's not arrogance if it's true. Charming and I have gone against villains we probably had no business fighting...and we won," Winter reminded.
"Fair point," the Queen conceded.
"Well, if he doesn't want to face us head on, then how does he plan to deal with us?" Winter questioned.
"With another curse," the Queen answered. Winter rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"You've got to be kidding me," she spat.
"When will you and your evil cronies learn?" Winter asked.
"Nothing you can do can separate me and Charming...not for long anyway," she added.
"That's the thing...he doesn't plan to separate you. Just the opposite, in fact," the Queen said.
"Okay...you're not making any sense," Winter said impatiently. The Queen scoffed.
"He plans to curse you both and the children into a happy life, far away in the Land Without Magic, where you'll never threaten him with your true love and the chalice. And Bobby will not come into his full power to challenge him," she explained.
"He wants us to be happy?" Winter asked skeptically.
"No...he'd rather grind your bones to dust and rip your children limb from limb. But he's not confident he can get that job done, so he figures if he curses you and Charming or rather your light halves into utter bliss, you'll never think that you're missing anything," she explained.
"So we'd never seek anything out. Then he could rule unchallenged," Winter realized.
"Exactly," the Queen said.
"Why are you telling me this? You'd love to get rid of me and Charming," Winter replied.
"No...I'd like you both to suffer. Not live in the Land Without Magic in some white picket fence life. But...it might be the best way to protect Bobby," the Queen said. Winter looked at her in horror.
"You can't be serious! You're going to help him curse us?" she asked.
"Not you two...but the light halves. It could be the only way to save Bobby and Summer," She scoffed.
"Even if it is, I know my light half. She'll never go for it. She'll never agree to leave her people behind to Seth's evil. Neither will Charming's light half. It's absurd," Winter refuted.
"Oh, I know sweet cheeks and chisel chin will never go for it. But it's not like I plan to give them a choice. Unless you have something better?" the Queen questioned.
"Yes...as a matter of fact, we do," Winter countered.
"Yet you spent the whole day in bed satiating your libido instead, leaving me to do the heavy lifting," the Queen argued.
"Maybe Seth doesn't want to fight us...but we want to fight him. He wants us gone, because he's scared of us, so we'll fight him and we'll destroy him," Winter claimed.
"He may be leery of his chances against you, but he is by no means a pushover," the Queen warned.
"Which is why you need to undermine him for us at every turn. If you really want Bobby to survive this...then you need to run interference," Winter stated.
"I will do what is necessary for my grandchildren and make no mistake, if it becomes clear that cursing you two idiots into some blissful haze is the only way to save them, then that's what I will do to protect them," the Queen hissed, as she disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. Winter let out a frustrated growl and then felt her heart flutter, as her husband came down the stairs, shirtless and just wearing a pair of pants.
"And just when I thought I got you to relax," he joked. She sighed and welcomed his embrace, as he pulled her flushed against him and she rested her head against his chest.
"That woman…" she growled.
"We'll make her pay too, my darling," he promised.
"Except...I think she may help us save our babies," Winter said, as she looked up at him.
"I think you'll have explain how that would be possible and more importantly why," he said.
"She does love them, just like we do. We may be on a path of darkness, but we love our babies," she said. He nodded.
"Tell me what's happening," he requested.
"It's Seth...he fears us so much that he is looking for a way to curse our light halves and the children into a happy life that they would never want to escape," she explained.
"So they would never feel incomplete or seek anything else," he realized.
"And us?" he asked. She shook her head.
"I don't know...it's possible that he fears them more, because we revel in the darkness like him," she suggested.
"Well, we'll make sure he regrets that. Now that we are finally free and not inhibited by the light...we will finally make everyone that has wronged us pay," he promised.
"And if he gets in the way of our rightful rule...then he will pay too," he added.
"Yes...but the Queen thinks that a curse for our light halves might be the only way to save Bobby from Seth," she told him.
"And protecting our children is the most important thing, but if they're cursed...then we will lose them, maybe forever," she feared. But he shook his head and cupped her face in his hands.
"I will not let that happen. We will protect our babies and we will destroy Seth if that's what it takes to do so," he promised.
"Someone is always trying to take the people I love from me…" she said, as she looked up into his eyes.
"They have taken you away, countless times. They want to take my babies from me too...and my light half has let them do it time and again!" she raved.
"Then she has the audacity to forgive them and give a speech about hope and second chances!" Winter spat.
"But I want no more second chances…" she said.
"And there will be none. The time has come and I will make everyone that has ever wronged you beg for your mercy, my darling Winter," he assured. She smirked and took the wand, before using it on the mirror they were using to see around town. The image that appeared on the screen was one of the gardens at the convent and showed a familiar looking person, though her new form as a garden gnome made him smile in satisfaction.
"I do love your work," he said, as he put his arms around her from behind.
"Oh and this is just the beginning, my love," she replied, as their lips met passionately.
"Just the beginning and when I'm finished, everyone will bow to you as their Queen," he promised, as she kissed him again.
~*~
Snow leaned her head against David's arm, as they enjoyed a summer stroll on the beach that night, before they headed home. He smiled over at her and kissed her hair.
"I'm so glad seeing you happy, especially after such a tough day," he said.
"Well, you know how much I love planning parties and weddings, especially when they're for our babies," she replied.
"And it was tough, but I got through it just fine, because my wonderful, loving, handsome husband was there to hold me through it all," she said fondly.
"And I always will be," he assured, as they finally arrived home and went inside.
"Are you sure about this?" He asked with hesitation, as she pulled out the dream headband from her bag.
"I don't want to do this...but you know nothing good is going to come from being separated from our dark halves," she reminded. He sighed.
"I know...I just hate that he's probably the only one that has the solution," he lamented and she took his hands in her own.
"Me too, but like I said, I know you'll be there for me," she said. He smiled and kissed her tenderly.
"Always," he said, as he cupped her beautiful face in his hands and gently caressed her cheek, as she smiled dreamily up at him.
"Come on...let's kiss the kids goodnight and have some us time," she said, giving him a coy look. He grinned and allowed her to lead him upstairs.
~*~
The Major walked into the Rabbit Hole that night and ordered a drink. She opened her files and looked through them. She had her agents in plain clothes as implanted as members of the populace all over the United Realms, so she had the latest Intel on everything that was going on, including this fantastical serum, originally created by Dr. Jekyll, to separate Snow White and Prince Charming from their darker halves. It was really out there, but then everything that happened in this town was. She already had a young agent posing as a student though with the mission to get a vial of this so-called serum for her. She wanted to send it to one of the FBI labs for analysis. More importantly though, she wanted to harness the magic that this family had and make it work for them. She still had no idea how to do that though.
"It seems that everyone has an interest in this pair," a voice said, as a man of Asian looking descent joined her at the bar.
"Do you know them?" the Major questioned.
"Not personally...but I knew their predecessors quite well," he said.
"I've read the book...that would make you quite old," she mentioned.
"Quite...but then I've been stuck in a fallen land for thousands of years since my banishment," he replied.
"You are with the man that attacked during their anniversary party," she surmised.
"And you were not born in these lands...you are from out there," he responded. Her eyes narrowed.
"How do you know that?" she demanded.
"I do my research and you still wear the jewelry of your military station, even in your civilian clothing," he said.
"No one else has noticed as you have been moving around town, but as a former military leader, I can spot it anywhere," he added.
"You've been following me," she surmised. He smirked.
"You have that keen military eye," he complimented.
"Who are you and what is your interest in me and my operation?" she questioned.
"I am Shan Yu and you know this outside world...this Land Without Magic better than any here. It has intrigued my Master," he replied.
"Your Master?" she questioned.
"The Great Titan Typhon...or Seth, as he goes by now," he responded.
"And what interest does he have in the United States military and our government?" she questioned.
"He sees you as a means to possibly getting rid of his adversaries...these Charmings. He has a way...a curse that will keep them together, but with new memories and no reckoning of their old lives," he explained.
"And what does that have to do with me?" she questioned.
"He needs someone on the outside to monitor them...and make sure the curse on them is never broken so he can rule unchallenged by the truest loves," he said.
"And what do I get out of this arrangement?" she asked.
"The power and knowledge you seek," he answered.
"Tell me everything," she requested.
~*~
Snow recognized her surroundings immediately upon arrival in the nether realm. The billowy white smoke was eerie, but a far cry from the flaming red room that she had once experienced during the first sleeping curse. She was dressed in a long, airy white nightgown with a plunging neckline that seemed to shimmer like a light in the darkness.
"My my...and here I thought I was damned to never experience any pleasure again. And yet...here you are again, ending my years of endless torment in this place," a voice said and a chill slithered down her spine. She turned to find him there and immediately regretted it upon seeing his lust filled eyes drinking her in.
"I didn't think it was possible...but you are even more stunning than ever," he complimented, as he approached.
"Stay back…" she hissed, but he did not heed her words.
"Usually this place is filled with raging flames and my own wailing as I am tormented by living nightmares. Morpheus usually sends the Oneiroi to enact these torments. But sometimes he and Hypnos come themselves," Jekyll complained.
"Your torment is well deserved," Snow said.
"Then why are you here, beautiful Snow? Though I am very much enjoying such a vision," he said.
"I have something to ask you," she replied. He smiled.
"You need something from me," he realized.
"It's about your serum," she said.
"Ask away, my lovely Snow," he replied.
"I am not yours nor will I ever be," she snapped. He chuckled.
"Oh that fire...I have missed you. I have longed to see you again and even be scolded by that sharp tongue and incredible wit," he reveled, as he stared at her, no doubt undressing her with his eyes.
"Put your eyes back in their sockets so I can ask you this and get it over with," she snapped.
"As you wish, lovely Snow. How can I assist you?" he asked.
"In creating your serum...did you ever find a way to reverse it?" she questioned. He looked intrigued by that.
"Reverse it? As putting the two halves back together?" he asked. She nodded.
"Yes," she replied.
"To be honest...I never considered it. I worked so hard to get rid of Hyde permanently that I never considered rejoining us," he answered. Her shoulders fell a bit and she twirled her ring.
"Then you don't," she said in disappointment.
"Oh, I didn't say that," he corrected, as she looked up at him.
"May I ask why such an interest in reversing my serum?" he asked.
"No," she refuted.
"Dear Snow…" he said, clicking his tongue in a chiding manner.
"It would be most helpful for me to know," he said. She sighed.
"The Evil Queen has returned again and she used your serum on me...against my will," she revealed. His eyes went wide and his lips curled into a curious smile.
"Fascinating...so your own darkness is free?" he asked.
"I'm afraid so," she replied.
"How intriguing...a version of you with your beauty and a heart as dark as my own," he said.
"Don't get too excited. If she was here...she'd obliterate you from existence, after she made you suffer, because unlike me, she has no regard for Hyde," Snow warned.
"And it would almost be worth it to see an evil version of you," he joked.
"Well...Hyde has my notes," he said.
"Actually, he doesn't. We never found them and he's never had an interest in making more serum. What we had on hand was locked up with one of Regina's spells, but that didn't do us much good when the Queen returned," she explained.
"Ah...yes, well, then that is a problem. I could reverse engineer my serum for you...but obviously not from here," Jekyll said.
"That's not happening...I'd never free you from this place! Not after what you tried to do to me and my husband!" she replied in outrage.
"Then I'm afraid you'll soon find coming here was a mistake...because I am not going to waste this opportunity," he hissed, as he grabbed her arms. She screamed and kneed him between his legs. He groaned in pain and fell to his knees.
"You will not deny me again, Snow White...I am in this hell, because of you and you shall give me what I have been denied!" he growled, as she started backing away from him.
"Snow!" she heard her husband call and let out a breath of relief.
"David!" she called desperately, as he appeared through the smoky air and she ran to him, as he took her in his arms. Jekyll rolled his eyes.
"Honestly...does he ever wear a shirt?" the doctor complained, but he was ignored.
"Did he tell you what we need to know?" he asked. She shook her head.
"No...he says the potion can be reverse engineered, but we don't have the ingredients list. That is in his notes and he is refusing to tell me where those are," she replied.
"That's okay...I have a different approach. You asked and now I'll beat it out of him," David said, as he approached the doctor.
"David…" she started to chide, but he was already grabbing the mad doctor by his collar.
"Man handle me all you want, you neanderthal. I'll never tell you anything," Jekyll hissed.
"Oh that's okay...I'll just relay your refusal to cooperate to my dark half and give him the dream device. Then he'll pay you a visit and compound whatever tortures Morpheus' inflicts upon you...and trust me...he doesn't have my restraint," David threatened.
"Your dark half? She used the potion on you too?" Jekyll questioned.
"She didn't have to. Snow and I share a heart. I separated without the serum, because her dark half called to mine," David revealed.
"Inconceivable," Jekyll said in amazement, as David shoved him back and Snow sided up to him, as she put her arms around his waist.
"If you expect me to give you this information for nothing in return, then you can forget it, my lovely Snow. Not even you have that kind of power over me," he refuted.
"I will never free you...but if you tell us what we need to know, I will ask Aphrodite if I can speak to Morpheus and lighten whatever torment he inflicts upon you," Snow offered.
"You would do that?" he asked.
"We want to be whole again. Regina wants to be whole again. With what we are facing...it's the only way we can win," Snow replied.
"I see...and what are you facing?" he inquired.
"It's of no concern to you. Do we have a deal?" David asked. Jekyll thought for a moment and then relented.
"I hid my research from Hyde and the lot of you in cellar of Zelena's farmhouse where my lab was. The far wall is hollow and I concealed it there," he revealed.
"If you're lying...then my dark half will be the one visiting you next time and like I said before, he doesn't have my restraint," David warned, as they disappeared and Jekyll blew out a breath.
"A bit abrasive that one is," another voice said and Jekyll turned to find a shifty man there. He was rail thin with pointed features.
"Ah...another demon sent by Morpheus to torment me," Jekyll surmised. The being chuckled.
"A demon...yes. But sent by Morpheus...no," he revealed.
"I am Mephisto...though some like to call me Satan. I am not of this realm...not of this sector even. I was long ago banished from my home and ended up with many other unfortunate fallen realm of Nephilim," he explained.
"Ah...you must be a part of the calamity they are facing that dear Snow spoke of," Jekyll said.
"Quite...my Master Seth is a powerful Titan that has returned from his banishment for revenge and I serve him now, but also have many of my own interests," Mephisto replied.
"And how do I factor into those interests?" Jekyll questioned.
"I make deals by trade, Doctor and I can offer you a way out of this hell, complete with a new body, with a snap of my fingers," Mephisto said.
"And what would you want in return?" Jekyll questioned.
"Your soul," Mephisto revealed and then chuckled.
"It's not as dire as it sounds. I would own you, yes...and you would do favors for me when I require it. But for the most part, you'd be free to pursue your own interests," Mephisto said, as he waved his hand and an image of Snow White appeared above his palm.
"And does this new body have the advantage of the power I will need to do assert my will?" Jekyll questioned.
"Of course...you'll have all the power you need. Hellfire will run through your veins," Mephisto promised. Jekyll smirked deviously.
"Then that is a deal I would like to make," he agreed.
~*~
Snow and David awoke and looked at each other, before hugging.
"We did it...we can get what Hyde needs to create the reversal of the serum," she said, smiling at him. He smiled back.
"Yes we can, my darling," he agreed. It was almost dawn, so they decided to clean up early and would then call Regina, before calling Zelena as well to make a visit to her farmhouse.
As they made their way downstairs later that morning though, they heard a knock at their front door and answered it, finding Tink and Neal there.
"Hi you two...please come in," she said, as she opened the door wider.
"We're sorry to visit so early, but I thought I better come tell you about something we found this morning," Tink said, as she looked at her husband and he carried something in that was covered with a sheet. Neal set is down and then pulled the sheet off.
"Oh...a garden gnome. You shouldn't have," David deadpanned. Neal chuckled.
"We didn't...that's Blue," he revealed.
"Someone turned Blue into a lawn gnome?" Snow questioned and then smacked her husband's arm, as he started to chuckle.
"David…" she chided.
"I'm afraid the security cameras reveal that it was your other half that did this," Tink said, with a wince.
"Oh no...so that's how she got a fairy wand," Snow fretted.
"Has your father seen this?" David asked the other man. Neal chuckled.
"I sent him some pics. We're taking it there after this, because he wants to see it in person," Neal said and David chuckled again.
"Neal...we are not doing that. It's not funny," Tink chided.
"It kind of is. She's not dead or anything and she was horrible to you...and a lot of people surprisingly. Yet she flew around the Enchanted Forest like she was some kind of Savior to mortals," Neal argued. Tink sighed. She couldn't really refute any of those claims.
"Don't worry...we think we will soon know how to reunite not only ourselves with our darker halves, but Regina too," Snow said.
"Really?" Tink asked in surprise. She nodded.
"So you had to go talk to Dr. Creepyl?" Neal asked with a wince. David nodded.
"And he was just as creepy as ever, but he told us where his notes are," he replied.
"Wow...well, good luck with that. We better go," he said, as Regina arrived at their front door.
"Is that Blue?" she asked.
"My dark half did that," Snow replied sourly.
"Wow...nice one. I like it," Regina said.
"Regina…" Snow whined.
"I still like you better...most of the time, but that was a nice touch," the other woman replied and Snow rolled her eyes.
"Whoops…" Neal said, as he pretended to trip and almost drop the gnome.
"Neal!" Tink yelled and he laughed again, as they got back in their car.
"Well, shall we? I told Zelena we're coming," Regina said. They nodded and Regina used her magic to transport them to her sister's farmhouse.
~*~
The breakfast rush at Granny's was normal, as usual and bustled with most of the normal crowd, save for the Charmings that morning.
"Order up!" Frankie called, as one of the waitresses picked it up and delivered to a table where Rodmilla Tremaine sat sipping her morning tea.
"It's about time…" she snapped, as she prepared to eat.
"Make sure the order for my daughter is ready when I'm done. I'll not have her eating that hospital swill they try to foist upon her," she said, as she picked up her fork, just as the door to the diner flew open with a bang. It startled all the patrons and there were gasps of surprise, as a pair walked in. Normally, they would not fear them, but it was instantly obvious that, though they looked like their esteemed heroes, they were not. By now, word has spread very quickly that Snow and David had been separated from their dark halves. And by attire alone, they could tell that this was them.
"Easy…" Winter spoke, as she looked at a fear-stricken Joe.
"Most of you have nothing to fear from us…" she told them, as they approached Rodmilla's table.
"You, however, are much overdue for retribution," Charming said, as he glared at the woman.
"Well, well...I must say that I laughed when I heard about your "evil" halves and your hilarity does not disappoint. Now run along and leave the true evil to real masters like me," Rodmilla said, as she tried to walk around them. But Charming brandished his sword and it gleamed under the lighting at Rodmilla's throat.
"This is going to get messy," he said.
"Let's find a different place to make her suffer," Winter said, as she used the wand and the three of them disappeared.
"You...you think we should call Snow and David?" Frankie asked.
"Yeah...yeah we better," Joe agreed, as he took out his phone.
~*~
"Rumple…" Belle said in a chiding tone, as her husband marveled at the object in front of him.
"It's just...exquisite work," he said, as he admired the lawn gnome in front of him.
"There's even bird droppings on it...how very fitting," he added and Neal snickered at that.
"Rumple…" Belle admonished.
"Oh please Belle...the blue flea deserved this. I just didn't think Snow White actually had it in her. Kudos to her," he said.
"Well, technically Winter did this and stole her wand," Neal said.
"Okay...you've had your fun. Change her back," Belle said.
"Or...there are other options. She does make a lovely garden gnome," Rumple argued, as Belle gave him another look.
"Fine," he relented, as he swirled his hand over the gnome and noticed a friction that stopped him from interfering with the spell on the gnome.
"Impressive Winter…" Rumple said.
"What is it?" Tink asked.
"I am afraid the only one that can change her back is Winter herself. She likely knew someone would try to turn her back so she accounted for that in her spell," he replied.
"Well, back in the garden she goes I guess," Neal said.
"Don't worry...if Snow and David succeed in getting Hyde to reverse the serum, then Snow can use the wand to reverse the spell," Belle replied.
"Until then...I doubt she'll be missed," Rumple said. She gave him another look, but didn't chide him further, for she knew what he said wasn't really untrue.
~*~
There are infinite realms, all accessible via the All World River, a pathway to infinite doorways to worlds. Within each portal, a universe of its own can exist in various forms. Most have vast solar systems that extend infinitely and within some sectors, any number of realms can exist as well.
Each sector, no matter how many realms, has unique nuances that can vary in many ways. Some are considered primitive, while others are highly advanced civilizations based in science. Magic often exists in many places, while it can be completely absent from others.
In almost all of them, there are objects or relics of great, legendary power, some of which are even responsible for forging life, time, and reality as known to inhabitants. One example of this exists in the nine realms of one sector deeply rooted in magic. But this magical cluster of realms is unique, for one type of magic in these realms is one rooted very deeply in true love. In these realms, true love rises to a power that most would think to be impossible. The people of this realm, with the exception of any born in the one realm without magic, have enchanted hearts that glow when magically extracted from the body. Within the hearts of mortals born in one of these magical realms exists a star gem. For most mortals, their star gems are ordinary and without special powers or properties. But the same cannot be said for mortals with magic or true love, especially a true love blessed by the Gods. Those star gems had incredible power, power that few, even the holders of those star gems, understood," Rose read from a book she had found about star gems and only looked up when she heard her children entering the library. She smiled and the put the book down, as they hurried to her. They had spent the day with their father and Sif, as he showed her the Kingdom.
"Mama...Aunty Sif told us lots of stories!" Ben said.
"That's wonderful, sweetheart," she said, as she hugged him and Ari close.
"Your Kingdom is truly beautiful, Rose," Sif said. The other woman smiled.
"Thank you," she said graciously.
"And this library is nothing short of magnificent. I've never seen anything quite like it," Sif said. Rose nodded, as she stood up.
"We are very proud of it, especially since my evil Uncle let it fall into such disarray when he ruled," Rose mentioned.
"We have worked very hard to restore it," she added, as she put her arms around Fandral's waist and he kissed her tenderly.
"Every day I am discovering new and intriguing books and today was no exception," Rose said, as Sif read the title of the book in her chair.
"Star gems?" she asked. Rose nodded.
"You found one star gems?" Fandral asked.
"Yes...I read some of it and thought we should show it to Snow and David. Plus, it would be a good opportunity for Sif to meet them and show her around Storybrooke," Rose replied. Sif smiled.
"Does that mean we get to go to Granny's?" Carina asked. Fandral smiled.
"That's what it means. I'm sure Summer and Bobby will be there," he said.
"Run along, the three of you and get cleaned up," Rose instructed and this would be one dinner that none of them would dawdle to.
"I am very eager to meet your new friends and learn more about these star gems," Sif said, as she scanned the book.
"I haven't finished the book yet, but I can tell you what I know on the way," Rose offered. Sif nodded and they proceeded to get ready for a trip to Storybrooke...
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feelingfredly · 5 years
Text
The Fox Guards the Wolf
Chasing Tails
Part Fourteen
Kisuke suppressed a sigh and picked up the pizza box.  It looked like Ichigo wasn’t coming after all.
He had to admit he was a little surprised.  He hadn’t expected Taka-chan’s brand of persuasion to work so well on the redhead, but then Ichigo didn’t have any history with the man. He looked normal enough.   Successful. An empire builder.
Unfortunately, he was also a psychopath.
Another sigh threatened. Was it really too much to ask to have one thing in his life that Okura Kagetaka couldn’t ruin?
Kisuke? Yoruichi murmured in his ear. Ichigo just arrived downstairs.
Apparently not. The pizza box trembled a little in his hand.
He was probably heading up to his apartment.  There was no reason to expect him to…
“Oh, thank God, yes! Give me that!” Ichigo exploded through his door on a wave of kinetic energy and Kisuke spun on his heel, holding the box up to grabby hands. “I am starving.  This whole super spy gig takes way too much effort.”
Kisuke stepped back from the table and watched Ichigo slip into a chair at his table and inhale a slice of pizza. “Super spy gig?”
Your heart rate has risen ten percent. Yoruichi said, but Kisuke ignored her. It wasn’t important. Ichigo had come.
“Mmmmm,” he moaned around the bite in his mouth and Kisuke shook his head. No one should enjoy pizza that much.
“Yeah,” he swallowed, “I had a bitch of a time getting rid of the Yakuza following me. At least I think it was one of Mamushi’s men, but it could have been someone else, I guess.  Whoever it was, he stuck to me like Yuzu when she wants me to buy ice cream.”
He ate his second piece slower, apparently now convinced that it wouldn't disappear if he didn’t eat fast enough.
“Once I lost him, I went to the gym. The cleaning guy knows me, and he let me in to call Renji from their phone.  Luckily he was studying so he didn’t mind the interruption.”
As the second piece disappeared, so did the edge of Ichigo’s frantic energy.
“He was already at the apartment, so that made the next part easier, but still.” He pushed back from the table a little. “I had to explain some of what was going on and honestly, considering how little I actually know about what’s going on, that didn’t go so well.”
He shrugged a little and didn’t meet Kisuke’s eyes, and the blond could tell he wanted to ask a thousand questions, but he wasn’t going to push.  Yet.  He wasn’t going to wait for very long, though.
��Okura-san told me to have the papers looked over, so…”
Kisuke interrupted. “I’m sorry. Papers?”
Ichigo’s eyebrows rose a fraction.  “Oh yeah.  You don’t know about that.  Huh.  I guess I’m too used to you knowing everything.”
That was a loaded statement if Kisuke'd ever heard one. It was fair, though.
“Focus, Ichigo, if you would.  What papers?”
Ichigo took an extra-large bite and stared at Kisuke challengingly, forcing him to wait while he chewed.  It had been a long time since anyone had been so openly defiant with him.  Probably since Yoruichi had left on her current mission. It was… cute.
“I am sorry, Ichigo-kun,” he bowed his head a little, quietly teasing the redhead in return, “whenever you’re ready.”
Ichigo swallowed and shook his head.  “Like I’m ever going to be ready for you.” He froze realizing what he said, and Kisuke couldn’t stop a grin from forming.  Ichigo apparently decided that ignoring it was safer than denying it, and rushed on.
“Well, Okura-san tried to convince me that you were a dangerous man who had broken in to their labs and stolen or destroyed his work.  He claimed the two men who jumped you at Como’s were over-zealous employees there to escort you to a meeting he'd arranged to try to get his property back, and they were only there as a safety precaution because you’re too dangerous to be allowed to come alone. Then he bemoaned the fact that I, a poor defenseless bystander,had been involved, and cried mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.”
“He said that since it was only because of his employees’ mistakes that I was entangled in this brouhaha, he wanted to make sure that I had the financial wherewithal to escape  your clutches, now that you’ve decided I am a useful pawn.”
He put down the remainder of his pizza slice and Kisuke moved into the kitchen to grab a napkin for him.
“Thanks.” He wiped his hands clean and looked at Kisuke.  His eyes were well-lit by the overhead lamp, and Kisuke could just see the little golden freckle that sat in the corner of one of the warm brown irises. “He gave me a settlement offer of eleven million yen to ‘cover damages’ and then a potential future position within the Okura keiretsu that would pay my tuition to med school, when I decide I want to go back.”
The two men stared at each other silently for a moment.
“Then he suggested that I have someone I trust look over the papers, so I gave them to Renji.  He’ll go over them and make sure there’s nothing hidden in the legalese, like selling the guy my first-born son or something.  He seems like the type who’d do something like that.”
Kisuke felt something in his chest loosen at the words.  Ichigo hadn’t believed Taka after all.
“Children have never been Taka-chan’s currency of choice, but I learned long ago not to put anything past him.”
Ichigo snorted at that.  “Yeah, he did the whole song and dance routine with enough skill that it was clearly something he’d practiced long and hard.  Only people who have things to hide go to that much trouble.”
Kisuke wondered if he was that transparent to Ichigo.  He’d practiced dissembling even longer and, arguably, to just as troublesome ends as his misguided protégé.
“Stop that.” Ichigo stood and walked the few steps into the kitchen proper, grabbing a water glass from the shelf and filling it from the tap. “You’re not the same.”
Kisuke looked at his defender and shook his head with a sad smile. “How can you be so sure, Ichigo-kun?  I am not, and I’ve lived in my own head for quite a long time.”
Ichigo rinsed the glass and placed it on the drain board. “That’s your problem.  You’ve been stuck in your head with all this crap for years.  It’s no wonder you can’t see it.”
He started putting the leftover pizza away with the economical movements of experience, and Kisuke wondered whether it was a skill he'd developed during his time raising his sisters, or from bachelor life.
“Can’t see what?” Kisuke was almost afraid to ask.
Ichigo wet a dishcloth and moved to wipe down the table. “That you’re not Dr. Frankenstein, and if this guy, Okura, is a monster, he isn’t your creation.”
His face was unusually serious, the mobile lips held tightly as he stared at Kisuke, trying to make him understand.
“He didn’t tell you anything that was too far from the truth, Ichigo-kun.” He didn’t ever want Ichigo to feel like he’d lied to him. “I have broken into his offices and destroyed things.  I have thwarted him at every turn, and I have every intention of continuing to do so. I am not innocent in all this.”
Ichigo rinsed the towel and wrung it out, placing it carefully, and Kisuke could see the tension in the other man’s posture.
“The bastard knew about my dad.  My sisters.  He very carefully didn’t threaten them, if you know what I mean.”  His eyes darkened and Kisuke was surprised by the depth of anger he could see there. “If you hadn’t set yourself against him, I’d be very disappointed, anata.”
***
Ichigo spent the next hour recounting details.  Kisuke loved details.  Luckily, Ichigo had a good memory.
“The butler was impressive. I’m pretty sure she was armed—it looked like an asp like mine, maybe the shorter version?—and even Masuda-san was careful around her.” He shook his head, remembering the Yakuza’s warning. “When a gangster says to be careful around someone, I’ve learned it’s in my best interest to listen.”
Kisuke nodded. “Not a bad lesson to learn. How long did it take you to learn it?”
Ichigo grumbled. “I learned it.  That’s what matters.”
Kisuke laughed, the first truly relaxed sound Ichigo had heard from him since he’d arrived.  “Very true.”
Ichigo had felt more than a little bit of pride when Kisuke complimented his actions after leaving Okura’s offices.  He’d half expected the blond to laugh at his gleaned-from-fiction approach to things—ditching his tail, switching computers, changing his clothes—but he’d just nodded and said, Good, good.  Did you take a shower?
Ichigo didn’t want to think about why he might have needed a shower; he might never leave the apartment again.
“I don’t think she touched me, but with the backpack it’s almost impossible to tell.  I wasn’t thinking about trackers or anything when I first got there, honestly.  It wasn’t until I was on the way out that I remembered how she followed me into the building rather than leading me.”
Kisuke moved to put water on for tea. “Is that why you left your bag at your old apartment?”
Ichigo nodded.  “I figured, if I wanted them to believe that I believed them—can this get any more convoluted?—I couldn’t come straight back here.  I could have gone to my dad’s, but that’s the last place I want their attention focused.”
“So,” he said, taking his mug and looking over the rim at Kisuke and sipping slowly, “you’re going to need to put new trackers or sensors or whatever it is you use on my new stuff.”
Kisuke’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.  “I would normally deny such behavior in the most strenuous of terms. However, since you wouldn’t believe me and I wouldn't insult you by insisting that it was true, I will simply agree and thank you for trusting me.”
Ichigo reached across the table and squeezed Kisuke’s hand. “You’re welcome.”  He let the corner of his lip quirk up in a half-smile. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Kisuke met his gaze and then bowed his head . “I will do my best not to.”
***
It was late before they finished the impromptu debriefing, and Kisuke could see Ichigo’s shoulders slumping. He wasn’t accustomed to this sort of thing and as sanguine as he was pretending to be, Kisuke knew it was taking its toll.
“Kisuke?” Ichigo asked.  “This thing you stole. What was it?”
The blond twisted in his seat so he could see Ichigo better. “Taka-chan was working with me when I first came up with the idea for Yoruichi.” He laughed a little. “Maybe I’d seen too many video games, but I was convinced that I could improve upon the normal concept of a security AI. You’ve seen a little of what Yoruichi can do hooked up to a known system.  The complete version allows someone to embed her into a system on the fly so you can use your enemies’ security against them.   It then runs a scorched earth protocol cutting all contacts with the existent hardware except for those that Yoruichi is using.  It basically subverts any computerized security system, turning it into a zombie for me to use.”
“He didn’t want to stop there.  Taka thought that accessing the system during an operation wasn’t enough. He thought we should use it, attack with it remotely, and leave the original system’s owner looking guilty of an unprovoked attack.”
Kisuke stirred a little restlessly.  “He always believed that pitting targets against each other was the way to destabilize situations enough that someone could come in and take over with minimal effort.”
Ichigo stiffened a little.  “Like the yakuza turf wars?”
Kisuke nodded.  “Exactly like that.  It started small.  I think he was experimenting.  He engineered a falling out between two Onmi agents.  One was reprimanded and lost his position.  He…” Kisuke paused and tried to find the best way of explaining, “he didn’t take it well.   He figured out that Taka was behind the machinations but couldn’t prove anything.  He tried to beat a confession out of him.  Taka allowed him to do substantial damage, and then pressed charges against him.”
Ichigo frowned. “Allowed? You mean he could have stopped it?”
Kisuke nodded. “Absolutely. Taka-chan was better than anyone in the Onmi at hand to hand combat—including me. He could have ended the assault in less than a minute, but he didn’t.  He wanted the injuries as testimony. He also knew that the constant reminder of the agent’s loss of control would make everyone else uneasy. It is his gift, you see, the ability to read his opponent.  However, it is also his greatest weakness.  Once he has evaluated a situation, he becomes inflexible.   Predictable.  But never underestimate him.”
“After that, I kept a closer eye on him.  I was impressed with his ability to read situations and people, but I disliked how little he considered the consequences of his actions on others.  The Director, though, saw his indifference as an asset.  When it became clear that the local yakuza groups were choosing to organize amongst themselves against law enforcement, he sent Taka in to shake things up.  It was a perfect fit in many ways.  Taka’s mother worked in the soaplands in Nakasu. She died when he was young, and he worked his way up from the lowest ranks into a position of relative respect by the time he was in his early teens. That was when I found him and persuaded him that a life outside the yakuza would be preferable. It wasn’t hard.  He hated the men who took advantage just because they could, not because they were better, or smarter, or even stronger. He knew he was smarter than any of the people he had to bow and scrape to, and it burned.  The Director knew it, knew Taka’s hatred for the yakuza and his penchant for creating chaos, and sent him out anyway.”
Ichigo frowned. “So, you’re saying that the Director wanted a turf war?”
Kisuke shrugged. “Turf war.  Assassination. Anything that would stop the gangs from working together.”
“And it didn’t matter who got hurt in the crossfire.” Ichigo rapped his knuckles on the table. “Like my mom.”
Kisuke sighed and nodded. “Like your mother. She knew the locals—some more than others—and believed that she could reason with them, but once Taka got into someone’s head, it rarely turned out well.”
Ichigo sat back and rolled his shoulders. “Sounds to me like it is time for your Taka-chan to learn a lesson about messing with people’s lives.”
Kisuke gave him a sideways look.  “He isn’t my Taka-chan, you know.”
Ichigo didn’t look at him. “But he was. You still call him Taka-chan," he practically spit the name out. "Clearly he means something to you.”
Kisuke moved closer and put his hand on Ichigo’s arm until he acknowledged him.
“You’re wrong, anata. There is nothing between us. Yes, he was interested in pursuing a relationship at one time, but it was never more than a question of politics and power, and that was not a game I have ever had the time or inclination to play.”
“As far as why I call him Taka-chan, I do it because it gets under his skin. He hates being subordinate to anyone, but at this point he truly hates being beaten by me. If he had his way, I would cast aside my too-familiar ways, grovel and call him Okura-dono as he so clearly deserves, and then beg him to allow me to follow him into his brave new order where the last man standing is the only one worthy.”
Ichigo appeared mollified, but Kisuke made a mental note to try to reinforce the message when he could. The last thing he wanted was for Ichigo to think there was some twisted attraction beneath the animosity between him and Taka-chan.
“The only thing that Okura Kagetaka is to me is a threat that must be dealt with.” He wanted Ichigo to understand.  Needed him to understand. “I might not have created the monster, but I gave him skills that he wouldn’t have had otherwise.  So, it falls to me to make sure he doesn’t use those skills to sew more chaos.”
The redhead looked at him and slowly nodded. “I can see that.  Just don’t get too caught up in it, okay? I’ve seen you working. I don’t think moderation or perspective were subjects they taught you in spy school.”
“No,” Kisuke couldn’t muffle a laugh. “No, they weren’t.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes until Ichigo turned to him and raised and eyebrow.
“I wonder… was there a class in how to steal your boyfriend’s clothes? Or did that skill just come naturally?” The sparkle was back in his eyes, the dark brown shining with amber again, and Kisuke smiled.
“Oh Ichigo, do you really need to ask? It comes naturally.” He slanted a wicked grin across the table. “Plus, if I’m wearing them, you can’t be.”
Ichigo blushed. “You are so full of it…”
Kisuke stood up and started walking down the hall.  “If you want it back,” he stopped in the bedroom door, “come and take it.”
His Ichigo was never one to back down from a challenge.
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cartoonfangirl1218 · 5 years
Text
Winner’s Curse Ch. 4
Uma walked confidently across the cracked and potholed cement street that led to the decaying apartment buildings from the docks.
Uma surveyed the familiar surroundings that somehow looked more shabby and depressing than when she had left it. 
The place has never looked well-kept, but the building foundations were staggering and leaning sideways, store stalls looked abandoned even as store owners slept in front at their desks, and random pieces of junk and rotten food littered the streets without anyone even scouring for scraps.  
Even the weather was different. The Isle was usually gloomy, and cloudy but there also seemed to be a permanent electric tension in the air as if the sky was about to erupt into a lightning storm at any second.
But the people were the most changed. Instead of adults slouching by the alleyways, glaring and spitting at anyone who got in their faces, no one was there.
People were staying inside their stores and looked away when Uma glanced at them as if they were afraid of making eye contact with her.
The kids were even worse. The kids that usually ran around causing mischief and trying to beat each other had all disappeared from the dirty street corners. 
It was sickening to see how the Isle has changed. No one was independent or trying to be evil. They all were weakly submitting in fear to the Coven.
Unfortunately her pirate crew also seemed to have suffered from the power structure changed. When she met them last week after Harry rounded everyone into her mom’s Fish & Chips shop, they had been happy to see her return but none were as united and motivated as they had been when she had left. Some like Zeke and Rosita had gotten in more fights and were as irritable and murderous as Harry. Others just looked haggard and starved like Bonnie and Big Murph. While others were just fidgety and nervous having been the victim of constant harassment and robbery from “Authority” VKs.
While she had been glad to leave this hell hole and see how the Auradon half lived, she felt better to be back among the people who understood the bitter realities of life.
She had stayed in her mother’s old cave in Atlantica. It had been long abandoned since her mother’s deportation to the Isle and no one wanted to go near such an evil place so Uma remained undisturbed and undetected. And even though she couldn’t really hang out among the crowds in Atlantica she did sneak around to see the place. It was a total tourist trap with disgustingly peppy signs and squealing children on water rides as tourists complained to mermaids about the plant-like taste of their kelp tacos.
This sort of prissy complaints from rich Auradonian was exactly why she wanted to give them a taste of Isle life. If they thought their kelp tacos were hard to swallow wait till they tasted mushed apple cores. 
Those Auradonians were so oblivious, so uncaring and they were supposed to be good guys.
“Uma.” Harry grabbed her arm, bringing her to a stop before a nondescript crumbling brick apartment, “We’re here.”
Harry looked toward her to take the first step forward as a first mate must do for the Captain and Uma did so.
Clay Clayton was sitting on the broken front step, sharpening a club with a knife. The smoke from the cigar dangling in his mouth surrounded his head and his foot shot out to block their entrance.
“What do you want?” If he was surprised by her return, he didn’t let on but let other puff of smoke drift in their direction.
Clay may be antisocial and one of the most vicious VKs to brawl with when it came to scraps of food, he was more or less harmless. He had inherited his father’s propensity towards drink which tend to shave off some intimidation points when he was trying to fight and he was furiously slurring his threats and unable to walk.
“I’m here for Helga Sinclair. Sykes said to meet her in the apartment here at lunch.” Uma answered, easily kicking his foot out of the way.
“Wouldn’t want to go in now. It’s not lunch for thirty minutes.” Clay grunted.
“The sooner we get it over with, the sooner we get done.” Harry said and pushed past him to open the door for Uma.
Uma wasn’t about to show it, showing emotions is one of the greatest mistakes to make on the Isle, but she was actually really excited to put this plan into action. Not only was this going to be the first step toward changing life on the Isle and eventually Auradon, but after spending six months in Ursula’s cave, studying some of the spellbooks her mom had left there, she was itching to do something active.
Harry was the only one accompanying her with stealing the bauble since it would have been overkill to bring the whole pirate crew. Instead she left Bonnie and Gil in charge of the crew and their part in the grand plan was to remind everyone on the Isle who the most fearsome gang was. And possibly pull several hits on Lars as well.
Gil had reluctantly told Uma about Lars’ actions towards him and she had decided someone needed to remind Lars of a very important rule. 
No one messed with her crew. 
No one.
She and Harry slowly climbed the unsteady, creaky stairs up to the second floor where Helga lived in the first apartment according to Sykes.
Uma easily opened the door as the rusty lock broke under her hand after she banged it a few times.
She was met by the image of Clayton’s bare ass in its full glory as he seemed to be pumping into Helga’s backside.
Uma’s startled squawk must have been loud enough to gain their attention because the two stopped. Clayton gave them a disgusted glare and casually zipped up his pants as Helga pushed away from to pull up her own and straighten her greasy tank top.
Seeing two people having sex wasn’t anything new to Uma. 
She had accidentally walked into a lot of people “doing it” in alleyways but she hadn’t been expecting this. 
These two were one of the fiercest fighters on the Isle, they were tough and intimidating. Sort of too busy with combat and brawling for sex. Apparently not.
So this is what Clay meant by not wanting to go in right now.
However the older woman seemed unperturbed, her only comment to their surprised faces was, “We’re human. We have urges. Sometimes you need a fuck and a drink to deal with life in this hellhole.”
Uma tried to nod knowingly as she watched while Helga go search for something in a leather bag next to a dusty cot while Clayton left to go through to a door leading to what Uma assumed to be the kitchen from the sound of a cork popping.
Helga’s grunt brought Uma’s attention back to the soldier, and just in time for her to catch a sea glass orb thrown in her direction.
“Here’s one of your mom’s orbs. That will be $20.” Helga held out her hand expectedly.
“Huh? What?” Uma stammered, mentally kicking herself for losing her mature composure. She had already paid Sykes $20 when she had ordered Helga’s services. Knowing how business was run on the Isle, either Sykes hadn’t given Helga her cut or Helga was lying that she needed to pay so she would get more money.
Either way, it didn’t explain why Helga had already gotten the sea glass orb her mom used to make gaudy necklaces.
“Why do you have this? Aren’t we supposed to steal together?” Uma managed to regain her normal confident voice.
Helga scoffed, “No. You hired me to take this. I did. I don’t need your help for it. I don’t work with greenhorns.”
“Well, uh. Well I need to hire you to steal something else. To steal with us.” Uma clarified.
Helga raised her eyebrow sardonically, “I don’t work with greenhorns.”
“Listen Sinclair,” Harry moved forward to help Uma make her point, menacingly wielding his hooked hand to graze Helga’s collarbone, “We need your expertise. And you’re going to give it or else.”
Helga’s expression transformed to the poker face Uma had seen her use when she quelled bar brawls at Gaston’s house. It was stony, rarely changing from its look of calm determination.
Without a warning, she twisted Harry’s hook arm behind his back, knocked him in the spine and straddled him so her knee digged into his back. Using her free hand she took out a small glock from her back pocket and placed it at Harry’s temple. She cocked the trigger.
On instinctive, Uma dropped her sea glass orb, glass shattering everywhere and cutting her skin but she didn’t care. “No!”
She wanted to go help but knew her limits too. She hadn’t had the thirty plus years of soldier training the woman had and they both knew it.
“This.” Helga shook her head pitying at Uma, not once moving her gun from Harry’s head, “Is why I don’t work with greenhorns. You take everything personally.”
Uma could have mentally kicked herself again. Never show emotion for another person.
With that rule in mind, Uma refused to allow herself to sigh when Helga let Harry get up to stand next to her by the door and she refused to unclench her fist as she warily eyed Helga.
As much as she loathed relying on others she needed Helga’s expertise. She couldn’t let her plan start if she didn’t have the proper muscle.
“Fine. No playing games or stealing useless trinkets. But I do have another proposition for you.”
“A proposition? From Ursula’s daughter, this got to be good.” Helga’s voice dripped with sarcasm even though her face didn’t change from its focused concentration.
Uma ignored the lack of respect, “I want to get into the Coven’s castle in order to infiltrate it from-“
“No.” Helga interrupted sharply, her eyes flashing with annoyance, “That’s my one condition for jobs. No magic. No supernatural. No long lost civilizations or curses longer than four letters. I’m not the one for the job.”
“I’ll pay you. I bet Sykes doesn’t even pay you as much as cut as he claims to. If you do this, I’ll pay you in full.” Uma angled, and hoping this wouldn’t push Helga to kick their asses out, “When do you ever do something a boss hasn’t ordered for you? Can’t you lead on your own or are you just a subordinate?”
Helga raised both eyebrows this time, looking as if she caught on to Uma’s blatant attempt to rile her up. Instead of kicking them out as Uma feared she would, she chose her words slowly and deliberately, “What is this plan exactly?”
Uma decided to not divulge in all the details or what Helga’s full role would be, after all, she needed her on board first, “I need you to just get us into the castle. Stand guard and get us out.”
Helga went up to them at the doorway surveyed them suspiciously. She was a good few inches on them but Uma held her glare for glare and Harry looked borderline innocent as he rubbed a smudge of dirt from his hook.
“Meet me here when you have $5,000 bucks.” Helga muttered and slammed the door in the face.
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gwiiyeoweo · 5 years
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Prompto learns the intricacies of living with a god.
Pairing: Prompto/Noctis Rating: T
Surprisingly, having a god as a roommate wasn’t too complicated. Noctis seemed content to sit on the couch and play video games or borrow Prompto’s phone to play King’s Knight (until one day when Noctis pulled out his own smartphone from seemingly out of nowhere). Which was great, especially on days when he was swamped with homework or had to study for an exam; he’d hate to leave Noct just hangin’ like that. Sometimes Noctis poked his nose around in Prompto’s study material or borrowed library books, but not usually without commentary — especially when it came to the Cosmogony texts, or anything relating to the Astrals, for that matter.
“Really?” Noctis nearly spat out his drink one night, the night Prompto learned gods could get drunk. In one hand he held a volume of the Cosmogony, in the other was a can of cheap beer.
“Listen, it says here that Bahamut, and I quote, ‘handpicked a pious maiden and bestowed upon her the power of the Stars and his trident.’Bullshit.” He looked up from the offending text and squinted at Prompto, traces of pink dusting his cheeks. “Listen, Prom. Listen,” his words came in a slur. “Bahamut. Bahamut’s a little bitch, y’hear me? And, and a fuuuhh — a fuckboy.”
Noctis rolled his eyes and slammed his beer down on the table. “‘Bestow his trident,’ huh? Yeah, he gave her his trident alright.”
Prompto choked on his poptart, eyes bulging out his sockets as he coughed out cheap cherry filling and crumbs. “No w-way, man.”
“Yes way. Bahamut got around back in th’ day. It said somewhere, that us Astrals don’t show up around y’humans a lot. Yeah? Well, Bahamut, my man. Nuh-uh, not ‘im.” Noctis tossed his head back and threw his arm up, laughing into the back of his hand. “He would make himself look like, like a sex god, you shoulda seen it. Like a damn twelve-pack and Fabio hair and everything, the whole package. It was ridiculous.”
Noctis lifted his head just enough to share a deadly serious look with Prompto. “Between you and me? I think the only reason he’s stuck in that, uh, that Crystal is ‘cause he’s too sex’d out.”
Afterwards, Noctis fell onto his side and cuddled the Cosmogony into his chest, silent for the rest of the night, save for the occasional soft snore, leaving Prompto alone to process his emotional and mental turmoil on his very new, very disturbing piece of information.
And that was one concern that had quickly come up — the problem of sleeping accommodations. Sometimes Noctis would just stay up until Prompto fell asleep, would wait until the boy slapped on his chocobo pyjamas and crawled into bed. On those nights, Noctis would just smile sweetly and tuck him in, pat him on the chest a couple times, turn the light off, and leave the bedroom. Prompto would strain his ears to hear the tell-tale click of the front door. Sometimes he heard Noctis leave the apartment, sometimes he didn’t. In the morning when Prompto woke up, the god would be waiting in the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. He never asked about what Noctis did on the nights that he left.
On other nights, Noctis would fall asleep on the couch; and not wanting to disturb him, Prompto would tiptoe around the living space and switch off the lights after carefully draping a blanket over him. But like always, Noctis would be waiting for him with his coffee once morning came around.
So when two weeks passed and Prompto had let the guilt and curiosity break off the final chip, he finally got the guts to ask Noctis. “What do you do when I sleep?”
On the floor, Noctis was hunched over. His hands stilled, and he looked up from the 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle he was working on, a photographic rendition of the Citadel. “I sleep. Like you.”
“Yeah, but sometimes you leave.”
“Sometimes I go for a walk. Then I go to sleep,” Noctis shrugged, turning his attention back to the puzzle, “You could say I go ‘back’ to the Noctis ‘tree,’ or to the stars, or whatever. Then I come back in the morning.” He ran his fingers through a small pile of pieces, when his brows quickly came together in a frown. In one swift motion, he stood from the puzzle and flopped onto the couch, where Prompto was studying. “Prompto, I told you. I’m here to stay. If you’re worried that I might just ditch you —”
Prompto shot up a defensive hand. “No! It’s not — well, sometimes I still wonder if this is all a dream and that you’re just like, some hallucination or something. But that’s not really why I’m asking.”
“Okay, so?”
“Well, sure the couch is nice, but it kinda hurts my back after sleeping on it for so long. And, like, I dunno how this ” — he gestured with his hands at Noctis — “really works, or if you even get stiff shoulders from sleeping on a couch, but… My bed’s, uh, a lot more comfortable. So, you could… Maybe, join me instead.” Oh boy, he could feel the heat creeping up his neck and his cheeks.
“You’re asking me to sleep with you?” Noctis asked, lips curling into a sly grin.
“Not like sex! But, well, basically? I mean, not like I wouldn’t want to! Like, Noct, you’re totally hot, with this whole dark and mysterious cool vibe going on, but uh. Just, I mean, I totally see you as my bud. But it’s not like we could get something more going on later — and how would an Astral and a human even do this dating thing anyway — and does that, did that even happen before? I, I mean Bahamut was going around banging everyone, like you said, and I’m not slut-shaming any gods or I might get electrocuted or something but… I, uh.” Prompto covered his face with both his hands. “I’ll just shut up now.”
He knew this was a bad idea. Oh gods, he just wanted to sink into the couch and let it eat him. Hell, he’d even be okay with Bahamut striking him down right here and now for blasphemy or whatever.
Noctis, however, took it in stride and laughed it off. “Sure, Prom,” he said, reaching over to pat the poor guy on his shoulder.
And just like that, it was done. Prompto felt the shift in weight on the couch, and he peeked through his fingers to see Noctis back on the floor, working on his 1000-piece puzzle.
That night — and for most nights thereafter — once Prompto packed up his textbooks for tomorrow and threw on his cactuar PJs, Noctis slinked through the door in a pair of black boxers and a loose tee, climbed into a bed that seemed to fit two people just right. Somewhere along the way Prompto discovered he liked being the big spoon and that Noctis had no problem tucking himself in between his arms.
(Prompto did have to wonder, though, how and where Noctis got all his clothes when he never went shopping.)
“Hey, Noct.”
“M’yea?” he answered through a mouthful of pizza. Apparently Astrals didn’t need to eat, but Noctis could still enjoy flavors and spices and textures. He had quickly developed a habit of picking bits and pieces from Prompto’s food, or digging around the fridge for some cold meats or half-eaten leftovers that were a touch too ripe. Which worked perfectly, actually. Prompto wasn’t a starving college student, as he had a government stipend as well as a decent sum gifted from his parents to tide him over. Thing was, his budget was meant for himself, and himself only; he couldn’t really spend funds on feeding an extra mouth. So the fact that it was impossible for Noctis to starve definitely came as a plus.
“How come you look like that?” Prompto kept his eyes on the screen of his laptop, fingers typing away on his keyboard, only stopping when he realized that maybe his words weren’t the best choice. “I mean, like, my age. Some people said you were a little kid, or an older guy.”
‘Or a dilf,’ he thought to himself. Many of the posts that claimed Noctis as an older man, definitely did not leave out their biases and chose descriptions like “hot dad” or “daddy Noctis.” But the Noctis who was with him now, in the flesh and in his apartment, was scavenging his fridge with a half-eaten slice of pizza hanging from his mouth like some backstreet raccoon. And his looks barely passed as a young adult. There was still some softness of youth cushioning his features, a fairly slim but lean physique that girls would absolutely gush over. With his long eyelashes and smooth skin, he was the picture-perfect “pretty boy” Prompto had seen and heard his high school classmates squeal about way back then.
But, as Prompto paused to glance at Noctis, he could kinda see it — the whole “daddy Noctis.” He imagined an older Noct, the baby fat melted away to reveal sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut mythril, and maybe a trimmed beard to add some age. Would older Noctis have longer hair? Or maybe a cropped hairstyle? Noctis would probably keep his lean muscle, but maybe broader shoulders or something. What were even the requirements to be “daddy” anyway? Obviously it didn’t include having an actual kid though. (Did… Did Astrals even have children? Could they?)
“Well,” Noctis said, shutting the fridge door with his hip, each hand holding cartons of two-week old takeout, “I pick whatever floats their boat.” He set them on the kitchen counter and picked the lids off, leaning his face down to sniff the contents. He wrinkled his nose at one of the leftovers but chose to stick a fork in it anyway, twirling the cold noodles around before taking a bite.
“Dude, I don’t know how you do that,” Prompto gagged. “Or why, even.” He supposed it was his fault for not eating them sooner, for letting them go rancid. But that’s just one of the perks of having an ancient deity for a roommate, he justified. In the same way Noctis didn’t have to eat, he didn’t get sick from eating expired food bordering on mold and fungi. What would otherwise go into the trash or down the drain, went straight into the god’s stomach. Recycling at its best.
“If you’re talking about the food,” Noctis said, after swallowing down the slippery noodles, “It’s not that bad. Does taste kinda funky though, like artisanal cheese or something.” He swirled his fork, the carton making a distinct sound of something disgustingly wet and thick. “There might be some mold though, unless that’s just fuzzy cilantro.”
Prompto was pretty sure there was a blasphemy law or something out there, that strictly forbade people from offering gods old-ass food and moldy noodles. He learned last week to not think about it, however, and to let Noct eat what he wanted.
“But if you’re asking why I’m a twenty-something-year-old, it made the most sense.” Noctis tossed the empty carton into the trash and pointed his fork at Prompto. “Figured you’d want someone around the same age. I’m ninety-nine percent sure you wished for a friend, not a little brother or a dad.”
Oh. Well, that made sense. “Fair enough. I guess it’d get kinda old having to stop for old ladies that want to squish your baby cheeks.” Prompto paused, remembering the posts of people drooling over middle-aged Noctis. “Or crushing on hot dad Noct.”
That managed to pique Noctis’ interest, however, and his fork stopped mid-air on its way to the second carton. “Hot what who?”
Prompto realized then and there that Noctis did not, in fact, realize how badly people were thirsting for him.
“Oh, man, Noct buddy. The thirst out there is real .” Prompto laughed and pulled up a new tab, clicking on a link he bookmarked long ago. He scrolled through a few pages as Noct made his way to stand behind Prompto and look over his shoulder. The blonde stopped at a juicy string of replies and posts, angling the laptop screen so they could both see. “Your fans are so wild, my guy.”
   > I hope all the gods are as handsome, if only i saw him shirtless lol         > Omg ur not the only one. If i knew he looked like a hot piece of tall dark and gorgeous, i would’ve been soooooo much more specific with my wish. ;P
Some of the posts were a little more flattering. Others, less so.
   > do u guys think that if i wished hard enough, he’d sit on my face         > honestly? I don’t know if i want to pound that sweet ass or get rekt by him                > y not both? ;D
Prompto wasn’t sure what he had expected, but Noctis took it… Pretty well. In fact, they spent a good few hours bonding and laughing over the sheer thirst of these people. At some point in the night, they even came up with a drinking game.
“I mean, technically, this one mentions ‘daddy,’ ‘bondage,’ and ‘babies.’ So that’s what? Half a beer?”
Which quickly became a bad idea. Prompto was sure his liver was going to fail on him by his umpteenth bottle. Noctis — and damn him, and his stupid Astral powers — seemed to be unaffected despite having just as many drinks. He was cheating, using magic or whatever, to flush the alcohol out of his system, and Prompto whined as he was guided into the bedroom. This was so unfair. He was never going to have a drinking contest with Noctis ever again.
Unceremoniously, he was dropped onto his bed, and a pillow bounced off the mattress. “Ugh, ‘eyy, I’m delicate goods, y’knoooow,” Prompto groaned, rolling onto his side and burying his face into the blanket. It wasn’t a soft landing, and it probably would have actually hurt if not for the alcohol numbing his systems.
“Yeah? Pretty sure those posters would be more than happy to be thrown into bed by yours truly.” Noctis picked up the pillow and gently tossed it at Prompto’s head.
“Pfft. And now what?” Prompto pulled the pillow off his face and tucked it under his head. “You’re gonna ravish me, oh Mister Noctis?” he said, with half-lidded eyes, though his wiggling eyebrows killed whatever attempt of seduction he was aiming for.
Noctis snorted and crawled into bed, shoving Prompto to make space. “Pretty sure you said you’d rather do the ravishing, oh Mister Prompto.”
“Mmm, too tired to do any ravishing.”
“Then stop talking and get some sleep.”
“Okay-dokay,” he said, a pinch too chipper. ”G’night, oh Mister Noctis.”
Noctis placed a chaste kiss on his nose. “Night, nerd.”
It was winter break when Prompto would finally introduce Noctis to his acquaintances. (He had gotten an A on that research paper; not because of his stellar writing, but because Noctis insisted on meeting the professor himself, and that was a whole story for another day.) The Amicitias were having a potluck, and Gladio had invited Prompto and Ignis. It went without saying that Prompto was freaking the fuck out, when he read the text.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” He had been pacing back and forth, hands rubbing nervously at his face, for a good while now. “I'm invited to the Amicitia's. The house of the Shield. This is, like, huge!”
Noctis was on his bed, sitting up against the headboard when he swiped through Prompto's phone, reading the text that had gotten him so riled up. “Uh-huh. That's what it says,” he said, not impressed at all. “It's just a little party and some food.”
“Noct!” Prompto swirled around and stomped over to Noctis, clamping his hands on the other's shoulders. He looked at him dead in the eye, with all the seriousness of a soldier marching towards his death. “The Shield. They're like, almost royalty .”
Noctis shrugged, expression remaining bored. “So? Your parents are in Niflheim's Council. You're basically in the same boat as that Gladio guy, even if you keep calling yourself a pleb. Which, you know, you're really not.”
Prompto just gave an indignant shriek as he fell over Noctis’ legs and buried his face into the blanket. “It's not the same,” he groaned.
Noctis may have a point about their social classes being not so different, but it's not like a god could understand the struggles of lowly humans. Back in Niflheim, it wasn't as if Prompto was even well-known; he was just the kid of some government officials. The Amicitia family had this prestigious pedigree and a noble, gallant history to boot. If anything, Prompto really was a pleb in comparison.
Noctis drew his legs from underneath Prompto and laid on his side, parallel to the other. He gave a few sympathetic pats on his back but rolled his eyes at the dramatics. “You're really freaking out about this, huh?”
Prompto wordlessly nodded, face still glued to his bed.
“You can pass, you know. That's totally an option, in case you forgot.”
Prompto finally lifted his face to stare at Noctis, a stubborn frown pulling on his lips. “No way. This is an opportunity of a lifetime.” He rolled onto his back and sighed, dragging his hands down his face. “Gladio's pretty cool, but I guess the issue is with everyone else that's gonna be there. Everyone knows I'm a Niff, and well.” He waved his hands in the air, letting the implications speak for him.
“And Lucis is still on edge with Niflheim,” Noctis finished for him. “I know. I've seen the way people look at you.”
The sneers, the whispers, those eyes. But it wasn't as bad as it used to be, when Prompto was alone. Noctis’ presence itself was comforting, filled a hole in his life that had been there before he even arrived in Insomnia, but it also provided another form of relief. Walking the streets alone left him too vulnerable to the baleful stares and whispered curses. But with Noctis, who looked every inch a pure-blooded Lucian, walking side by side and laughing over shared drinks or stealing fries, it made all of them second-guess themselves. He could tell by the confused or surprised expressions, and he sometimes caught the weird looks they gave. It filled him with a sense of gleeful vindication.
(Noctis had easily caught on — or rather, he had known from the start. On their first outing together, he had made damn sure to be as touchy-feely as possible or laugh just a tad too loud at bad jokes, he had admitted to Prompto.)
Noctis looked at the message again, skimming over the short three lines of text. “You know,” he said, his eyebrows perking up, “I can come with. He said you could bring a friend along.”
“What?” Prompto shot up, and he reached over to snatch his phone back from Noct's clutches. He furrowed his eyebrows, read the text message twice over. “You're right. Oh! You, uh, you'd really be okay with coming with me?”
“Duh. It's a potluck. I'm always up for food.”
They spent three days looking up party foods, mostly at Prompto’s frantic insistence: “Dude, I can’t be the one guy who just brings the crappy off-brand chips and shitty dip.” Finally, Noctis took matters into his own hands and decided for Prompto, one hand dragging the blonde out for grocery shopping, the other pulling up a lasagna recipe on his phone.
“Ugghhh. Can’t you just use your magic and just, magically make some kind of one-food-satisfies-all sort of thing?” Prompto groaned, reading the label on a jar of tomato sauce. He tossed two in the shopping cart, then threw in another just in case.
“Technically, I could.” Noctis pushed the cart along, grabbing a few bottles of dried spices. “But you never filled out the ‘Stellarian Make-A-Wish Form’ and that takes four to six business days to get to me. And we definitely have less than four days to get this thing cooked up.”
“What. I didn’t know I had to sign forms! And business days? Dude, you’re right here.”
“Sorry, Noctis the Stellarian isn’t here right now. Please call again during normal business hours or leave a message after the beep.” Noctis walked off, leaving the cart behind. He never even said beep.
“Nooooooct!”
They had managed to make two large pans of lasagna, and it tasted pretty damn good in Prompto’s opinion. (Noctis’ opinion didn’t count, since he could eat practically anything, aside from his aversion to vegetables.) Better yet, they had managed to keep the kitchen intact, only burning one mitten and two hand towels. With the food out of the way, the only thing left was what the fuck was he going to wear.
Prompto was going to be late, and oh gods, his anxiety was spiking. He never asked Gladio if the dress code was casual or formal wear, and he wasn’t going to take his chances with guessing ugly sweater party. He rummaged through his dressers and tossed shirts and pants all over the bed and floor, only pausing to press a shirt against his chest and stand in front of the mirror every few minutes. He should have been out ten minutes ago, but here he was freaking out over what sweater to wear, and he was pretty sure being late would make for bad first impressions. It was a vicious cycle.
Noctis stood by the bedroom door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, when he rolled his eyes and sighed. He stepped through the whirlwind of clothes scattered all over the place, and stooped to pick up a long-sleeved shirt. Wordlessly, he shoved it in Prompto’s hands and manhandled the blonde out of the way, pulling out a pair of black slacks from the dresser. “Go, change. Now,” he ordered.
“Yeah, but —”
“Chill, Prom. It’s not like you’re meeting the King of Lucis or anything. So just change already.”
Noctis was a filthy liar.
Surprisingly, they made it to the Amicitia manor with three minutes to spare. Prompto had expected security checks or battle-hardened guards standing watch from lookout towers, maybe a couple black guard dogs too. So when he pressed a finger to the intercom and offered his name and reason for visitation, he was taken back when the gates opened only seconds after, with no vicious attack dog or security uniform in sight. Noctis looked a little too smug, who had listened to Prompto’s over speculation and frenzied rants, and sauntered right on in.
Prompto followed at his heels, and was greeted by cheery instrumental music and all sorts of tantalizing aromas, a blend of spices he’s never smelled before. He zeroed in on the long tables topped with food, some brought in tupperware or actual plates. It was reassuring to see aluminum trays lining the tables; he and Noctis brought in their lasagna in aluminum pans, too, and he had worried that maybe they should have splurged on those ceramic pans instead. They managed to find an empty spot for their dishes, though Noctis had to subtly rearrange a few plates around to make room for the tight fit.
“Hey, Prompto!” That gruff voice was unmistakable, but so was the hand that clamped itself on Prompto’s shoulder, nearly jostling him. “Good to see you made it.”
“Oh, hey, Gladio. Thanks for inviting me,” Prompto chirped, as if he hadn’t been rattled with anxiety and stress for nearly a week. He waved a hand over Noctis. “I brought a friend with me, if that’s cool.”
“Nah, you’re good. I did say you could bring one,” he said to Prompto, before turning his attention to Noctis. “I’m Gladiolus, but call me Gladio.”
“Noctis. Just Noct’s good. You’re Clarus’ son, yeah?”
“Yep, son of the Shield and all that.” Gladio paused a moment, an amused smile ghosting over his lips. “Noctis, like… the Stellarian?”
“Noctis, exactly like the Stellarian,” Noctis replied, ignoring the way Prompto coughed.
“Huh. Bet you get teased about that a lot.”
“You get used to it,” he said with a wry grin, throwing a sidelong glance to his friend.
It was mostly smooth sailing from there, despite Prompto’s prior apprehension but according to Noctis’ reassurances — which came in comforting whispers and light hand squeezes. However, they didn’t seem to escape the hawk-ish gaze of one Ignis Scientia, who gave them a knowing look and a tilt of the lips over the rim of his wine glass. Even Gladio the musclehead noticed, nudging Prompto with his elbow and blowing a low whistle. It wasn’t like they were trying to be inconspicuous anyway; having been caught, Noctis laughed and gave them a full view of a smack of lips on a freckled cheek, at the price of Prompto’s flushed embarrassment.
Prompto still wasn’t sure what was going on between them, and Noctis gave no indication of his own. It had been casual flirting here, an offhand comment there, and somehow it turned into little shared kisses on the cheek or forehead. What he did know, however, was that he enjoyed it and wanted to see where things would take them. It was a little awkward to be caught sharing their affections, especially when he himself was still trying to process his own feelings about them, but it filled him with a tingly warmth all the same.
And it was almost enough to ignore a familiar, unsettling gaze that bore through the back of his skull. No matter how many cups of eggnog he downed, Prompto would always know what that sort of look was; he had been on the receiving end of it for far too long to not know. It was the judgmental stare of a stuck-up noble, the prejudice of a narrow mind — or in this case, the animosity of a Crownsguard official. Having had enough and feeling his confidence bolstered by the buzz of alcohol, Prompto turned to see who was glaring daggers at him, to find who the burning gaze belonged to. The uniform screamed Crownsguard, his face the same stern expression of a military man ready to snap and bark, and Prompto had immediately turned back around the second he saw that scowl. Okay, so maybe he regretted looking just a little.
But he managed to get on, because out of sight, out of mind and all that, yeah? He could still feel the little pin pricks as the hairs on the back of his neck stood at guard, could feel the barb wired glances given his way, but as the hour wore on, he managed to relax until the perpetual stare melted like the ice in his punch, into nothing but a distant reminder. The man had seemed satisfied to just shoot scowls at Prompto, which he was able to fare with and mostly ignore, and nothing had happened so far. Not to mention he was in the Amicitia household, so surely he was safe. No one would want to start a fight in the Shield’s home, right?
Wrong.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
Prompto had returned to the punch bowl to refill his drink, leaving Noctis to carry on with Ignis and Gladio. And yeah, that probably wasn’t a good idea, to present himself vulnerable as a lone target.
Prompto set his cup on the table and turned to stand face-to-face with the Crownsguard who had been shooting metaphorical knives at him for the past hour-ish. And maybe it was the liquid courage that was in the punch and eggnog that had Prompto puffing out his chest, but damn it , he was at a party and enjoying himself for once! He really did not need some asshole bursting his bubble.
“I’m getting punch, what does it look like?” Prompto huffed, gesturing to the very obvious bright red of the glass bowl.
“Sure you’re not planning on poisoning us, Niff?” The Crownsguard scoffed, eyes narrowing in suspicion and scorn. “Wouldn’t doubt it if you poisoned the food either.”
Okay. This was guy was hella rude. Their lasagna was actually good — he and Noct worked very hard on that, for his information.
He opened his mouth in protest, to point out they suffered a burnt mitten to get the damn pan out of the oven, to point out all the hard work and mess that had gone into it, until Noctis came over, planting himself between Prompto and the asshat Crownsguard.
“You got issues with my lasagna?” Noctis crossed his arms across his chest, his chin tilted up. Prompto couldn’t see, but he was pretty sure there was a scowl on his face. He also couldn’t help the vindictive glee in his chest.
“I got issues with the Niff here, not you, kid. He doesn’t belong here.”
“Sure he does. He got an invitation from the Amicitia over there,” he said, motioning a hand to Gladio, who was looking in their direction with concern, ready to intervene. “And besides, you got an issue with Prompto, you got an issue with me.”
“Look, kid. You’re better off not hanging around Niffs —”
“I’m not a kid,” Noctis practically growled. Though Noct was technically right, Prompto figured his looks… Kinda barely passed as an adult though.
“And I can do what I want, so don’t you tell me what to do.” Noctis jabbed a sharp finger into the Crownsguard chest. At this point, Gladio and some other man — ‘ Oh shit, is that Clarus Amicitia ?!’ Prompto silently screamed — were making their way over. But they would be too slow.
“Watch yourself, kid, or you'll be seeing stars,” the Crownsguard hissed. His shoulders tensed, and Prompto could see the faint lines of muscle tightening. This was so not good. He could feel the stare and attention focused on them, the worried murmurs and hushed whispers. He wished he had refilled his glass so he had punch to swallow down all this tension he was surely going to choke on.
“Oh, yeah?” Noctis snarled, bristling like an angry cat, Prompto imagined, with his curled up fingers and stiff white knuckles. He saw Noctis’ head twitch, jerk ever so slightly to his left, when Prompto caught a glimpse of a foreboding smirk. He followed Noctis’ line of sight, and it took every ounce of steel willpower to not scream.
Because standing right there was King Regis Lucis Fucking Caelum.
Prompto felt his eyes bulge from his skull, as the blood drained from his face to be replaced with ice cold water. Oh, Six. He was breathing, right? In, out? He could barely hear the rush of blood in his ears, too busy internally screaming into the void and all that.
‘ Chill, he said! You’re not gonna meet the King of Lucis, he said. It’s gonna be fun, he said!’ Whoever told him gods didn’t lie needed to go check themself.
He barely caught onto Noctis, too busy freaking out over literal royalty over there to stop him when he heard That Tone in his voice.
“Well, guess what?” Noctis had dropped his knees slightly. And with all the fury of a burning star, he slammed his fist up into the Crownsguard’s jaw in a brutal uppercut before either of them had time to blink. Prompto was pretty sure there was a kungfu movie with a similar title. Fist of the — South? West? — Star or something. It was over as quickly as it had started, and the body dropped in a skin-crawling thump.
“ Twinkle twinkle, motherfucker .”
Noctis shook his wrist, grimacing lightly from the impact. But it was quickly replaced with a shit-eating grin when he turned his gaze back to King Regis, who looked pretty damn chill despite witnessing someone knock out his Crownsguard, as opposed to the panic rising in Prompto’s own chest.
“Hey, Reggie. Long time no see,” Noctis all but laughed, who was way too calm about all of this.  
A flash of confusion and irritation passed over the King’s face, but it quickly melted into shocked realization then mild exasperation. Prompto was still too stunned to think of anything, but he could have sworn there was a hint of fondness in the man’s eyes.
By the time Gladio kneeled beside the Crownsguard, Clarus moved in on Noctis, taking long strides with a definite purpose. Prompto almost threw an arm out to shield Noctis behind him, to point out that the Crownsguard was being an ass and Noctis was just defending him so could he please just —
“Clarus, stand down. It’s alright,” King Regis ordered. Clarus stopped dead in his tracks, hand left in mid-air as he was just about to grab Noctis. Regis ignored the unconscious guard and walked up to the Astral, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Nearly twenty years, Noctis, and not a single hello. I must say, you know how to make an entrance.”
Prompto briefly remembered his first meeting with Noct’s shoe. Yeah, that had been an entrance alright.
“What can I say? I’m just that good.” Noctis shrugged and glanced over at Prompto, then past him at the tables behind. “Want to try our lasagna?” he asked the King.
“If I did not know any better, I would leap at the opportunity. But having past experiences with your cooking, I do think I prefer living. I’ve a kingdom to run, after all.”
“Hey!” Noctis interjected, smiling.
Still, the two laughed as if they had been old friends, ignoring the confused and slightly terrified faces around them. But knowing Noctis’ long, longhistory, Prompto didn’t doubt they truly had a bond.
He didn’t notice the King’s attention on him until Noctis nudged him on the shoulder. “Eh? What?”
“Prompto Argentum, was it?” King Regis asked.
“U-uh, yeah!” he stammered, feeling the pressure of the King’s gaze. Then he quickly added, “Your Majesty.” He couldn’t believe he was talking to the King, not to mention he even remembered Prompto’s name. And also not to mention, he was still not over the fact he had shaken his hand all those months ago, on the day he first arrived in Insomnia.
“I would love to hear how you met dear Noctis over here, whenever you’d be willing.”
“Noct? Um, yeah! Totally! Er, Your Grace.”
King Regis chuckled, deep and warm, and merely nodded. “Now, let’s try that lasagna, hm? You, too, Clarus! If I die of food poisoning, we die together.”
“Your Majesty, please,” the Shield sighed.
Prompto never really figured how it happened or when it all started. But one snowy morning, when he woke up to Noct's sleeping face and terrible bed hair, he was suddenly struck with a revelation.
‘Huh. I love this man,’ he thought. It was weird. He expected metaphorical fireworks and the heavy beating of his heart with that dizzying blood rush, waited for it with silent expectancy and any minute now .
But nothing came.
Two minutes, then five minutes. Ten. Nothing. Instead, he was left with the soft knowledge of his feelings, the gentle warmth that settled in his stomach as he watched Noctis and the slow rise of his chest with each steady breath. And this warmth, it was nothing new; it had been there for well over a year now, when his loneliness was replaced by this bright little star. And not even a month ago, Gladio and Ignis had referred to Prompto as their friend .
There were no grand explosions, no sparks of passion and heated kisses stolen between short, frenzied breaths. It had come silently. Like the slow rise of the morning’s light streaming in through the window, like the lazy snowfall covering Insomnia, settling so gently that he wouldn’t know how much had piled up unless he drew back the curtains and looked out into the heart of the city.
Prompto closed his eyes and smiled into his pillow, snuggling a bit closer to his favorite little star, and drifted back to sleep, falling to the comfort of knowing everything would work out, that everything already had. And Noctis, still deep in his sleep, responded to the shift and threw a cold leg over Prompto’s, eliciting a quiet breathy laugh.
Yeah, everything would be just fine.
Bonus
“So, you look pretty good. Older, but still good.” Noctis said over the rim of his glass.
Regis resisted the urge to roll his eyes and to fall back to his younger years of bantering and snickering, to the days of his youth spent with the Astral. “Yes. Well, ageing does that to mortals, Noctis. I would like to say the same to you, except you’ve gotten… Younger.”
He almost hadn’t recognized Noctis, when he watched the younger man knock his Crownsguard off his feet. He had felt the flames of angry retribution and indignation ignite, until that age-old smirk caught him off guard, when he recognized that smile, that specific tilt of the lips, but he couldn’t place it — not until he saw that set of steel-blue eyes that seemed to hide all the world’s stars behind them.
After all those years, Regis never expected to see him again. Ever. And especially not in Clarus’ home. Yet here they were again, sitting by the fireplace with plates of lasagna and glasses of champagne, basking in each other’s company as they had done in what seemed like a lifetime ago. (The lasagna was, surprisingly, quite good.)
“You were an older man, back in my youth. I almost failed to recognize you.”
Noctis was a bit taller, back then, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and age lines that looked to add wisdom around his eyes. Regis, being but a boy back then, had looked up to the god, for when his own father was absent in his royal duties as King. For when he had wished for a father, someone who could actually spare more than ten minutes a day for his son.
“Oh, yeah. ‘Daddy Noct,’” Noctis snorted. “Apparently that’s what I’m called nowadays, when I look like that. Y'know, you never actually called me dad.”
Young Regis had never gotten over that strange pride-ego-dignity trinity that teenage boys tended to have, and refused to call Noctis any version of the word “father” despite his wish being just that. They both knew he had been the closest thing to what a father should actually be, but those times were gone; however, Regis now saw a dear old friend instead. Plus, it'd just be downright weird for a grown man to call a younger one his dad.
“As I am aware.” Regis earned an incredulous look, to which he responded, “I know how to use the internet, Noctis.”
“Yeah, but it’s weird hearing that from you,” Noctis mumbled around his fork. He looked to the fireplace, the flames dancing in the dark of his eyes. “Time sure flies, huh, Reggie? You used to be so small. Now look at you.” He gently placed his fork down, lightly clinking against the ceramic, meeting his gaze with Regis’. “You grew into a fine king.”
They let a comfortable silence fall over them, save for the crackle of wood and the cheery music playing in the distance. Clarus had made sure the two could get their own little space, away from the rest of the party.
Finally, Regis spoke up again. “I never properly thanked you for granting my wishes.”
“Don’t mention it. All I did was get the ball rolling. You’re the one who pushed it to the finish line. Now look.” Noctis nodded over behind them, where Ignis was trying (and failing) to teach Prompto a proper waltz. “You finally got peace for your kingdom, even after the mess your father left behind.”
“Still. If it weren’t for your hand in all this—”
“Reggie, stop, you’ll make me blush,” he said wryly. “But, uh, sorry that it took so long. Had a hard time coming to a compromise. Don’t tell him I told you, but” — Noctis leaned in, and Regis mimicked the gesture — “I had a little argument with Bahamut. He kept insisting that Lucis wipe Niflheim out first, declare war and all that. Heck, that’s part of why Shiva’s doing her thing over there still, to soften them up and make the fight easier. It’s kinda hard to convince the god of war to not go to war, you know?”
“Ah. So Bahamut.”
“Yep.”
It was Regis’ turn to gaze into the fireplace. “I suppose you were right along,” he said after a brief moment. He turned to look back at Noctis in the eye and smiled with all the kingly grace he could muster.
“Bahamut is indeed, as you had put it, a fuckboy.”
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tf-tere · 5 years
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A Fallen Star - 4
(I feel the need to make this clear...Starfall is a sparkling. 
Like many children, she has a bit of an overblown idea of what she can accomplish. 
Look, just because I thought I was Batman as a kid didn't make my decision to jump off the playground wearing a cape any less likely to end in a painful face plant. Just saying. Anywho, enjoy a dose of fluff. And the seeds of coming angst.
Words: ~ 2600) It was becoming more difficult to remind herself that the Autobots were the enemy. They’d saved her, fixed her wing, and she actually liked their organic allies. None of them were fliers and they had no reason to offer her comfortable quarters… so why had one of them, someone, painted the ceiling of her new room to look like the sky? It wasn’t a great paint job, but they’d made an effort.
 Starfall huffed and sat up on her new berth, turning over to lie on her cockpit so she couldn’t see the painted ceiling. She didn’t want to like these Autobots. What would her carrier say if he could see her now? 
A choked noise escaped the sparkling before she pressed her face down into the berth. During the day it was easier to keep her processor occupied. But now, alone and trying to recharge? The spark crushing sorrow tried to swamp her; her processor dragging up the image of the greyed frame at the control panel. She couldn’t think of it as her carrier. Her carrier had been vibrant and full of energy. That thing had just been a… husk. 
After a few minutes trying, and failing, to push back the grief, Starfall sat up. She knew slipping into recharge when her processor was all tangled in these memories would lead to a bad flux. The last thing she needed was another of those. So she decided to test what Ratchet had told her when she’d been shown to her new quarters. He’d claimed that she wasn’t a prisoner, and so the door would not be locked. Of course, he’d also explained that could be changed if she used their trust to start trouble. Honestly, she wasn’t looking to start trouble. Starfall just wanted to walk around until she was too exhausted to think and could recharge in peace. 
The door to her quarters opened soundlessly. Starfall stuck her head out of the narrow opening and quickly looked up and down the hallway. All was quiet and the lights were dimmed. She automatically turned up the sensitivity in her own optics to compensate. The sparkling carefully slid the rest of her frame out of the doorway and closed it softly behind herself. She was tense, expecting some sort of alarm to go off. But this was just… quiet. 
Starfall hesitated before starting to walk. She had no real destination, just a desire to move until she could fall back into recharge. Something in the back of her processor obviously had different plans, because she soon found herself standing in the entryway to the main part of the base. Where the elevator was located. Miko had told her about the elevator and Starfall felt a familiar pang of need to see the sky. She had been stuck in here for cycles now! Normally a cycle didn’t go by without her seeing the sky or outer space. It made part of her processor feel like it was… itchy. 
She could walk over and use that elevator device to go outside, see the sky and feel the wind. But unlike the rest of the base she’d been wandering through, this room was not empty. Ratchet was sitting in front of the computer, obviously working on something. Starfall knew she was skilled; her carrier had often praised her and obviously she was a match for any Autobot that might dare to stand in her path. But where would she go? Even if she did defeat Ratchet and escape, she had no idea where the Decepticons on this planet were located. The thought of slowly starving until she deactivated, alone, was something that sent chills through her frame. She’d been too close to that once already. 
There was the option of just turning around and continuing her rambles elsewhere since Ratchet hadn’t noticed her presence yet. But now that she’d seen him, she didn’t feel like wandering alone through the hallways anymore. 
Starfall walked toward Ratchet, only hesitating for a moment when he looked up at her approach. It wasn’t like she was trying to sneak up on him. Or cause trouble. 
“What are you doing up? You should be recharging.” He didn’t even have the decency to turn off the computer and give her his undivided attention. Starfall had to push back the desire to do something mean spirited just to get a real reaction out of the old grounder. 
“Can’t recharge.” She muttered, crossing her arms and standing far enough away that she wouldn’t have to crane her neck far to look at him. Even with Ratchet sitting on some silly, improvised chair he was still much taller than her. 
“Can’t? Or won’t?” At least now he had turned slightly to acknowledge her. Ratchet’s expression looked like a strange combination of knowing and concerned. 
Starfall took a moment to consider the difference in the words before shaking her head slightly. “Can’t.” 
“Huh.” Ratchet rubbed at his eyes for a moment. “Well, I can see if I have som-”
“What are you doing up?” She interrupted, curious and only a little disappointed that she didn’t have free run of the base. 
Ratchet huffed, looking at her with narrowed optics. “I don’t need as much recharge as a sparkling. And someone has to keep watch on the monitors.”
 “Sounds boring.”
“It is.” He made those two words sound so tired. 
Starfall quickly walked over and clambered up into the medic’s lap before he could protest. She didn’t like the old grounder, but seeing him sitting alone just like she was alone felt… wrong. It didn’t mean anything. “Maybe you can tell me about it and bore me into recharge.” 
Ratchet stared down at her, face contorting through several emotions before he sighed. “I can’t decide if I should be insulted. Fine.”
The sparkling grinned and settled more comfortably, looking at the screens as the medic began to explain. At least this would keep her processor occupied.
~
Optimus stepped into the main room of the base and stopped, silently taking in the scene before him. Ratchet was seated at the computer monitors, his head tilted back and optics offlined. Optimus had been telling him for days that he needed more recharge, but the medic was stubborn. Finding Ratchet recharging at his station would have been amusing enough, but that wasn’t everything. 
Starfall was curled up on Ratchet’s lap, shifted over enough that her wings could hang off the side of his left leg. The top of her head was almost pressed against his knee guard. The sparkling was obviously deep in recharge as well, small frame limp. 
While he was pleased to see some progress being made with getting to know the sparkling, he also wanted to send Ratchet to his quarters for rest. Optimus had come to relieve the medic from his monitoring duty. He also didn’t want to startle the sparkling awake. After a moment of thought he stepped closer to the pair. Neither stirred. Optimus reached down and carefully lifted up Starfall’s small form. As he’d hoped, she didn’t react to the gentle motion. Once a sparkling was in recharge they tended to stay that way unless truly disturbed. 
Ratchet, on the other servo, woke with a start. He had survived millenia of war by being aware of the slightest disturbance. The medic relaxed when he noticed it was just Optimus, smiling gently down at him as the large Autobot cradled the little sparkling. 
“Optimus, don’t startle me like that.” He tried to sound gruff, but Ratchet’s face flushed slightly with energon. Embarrassed because he’d been caught recharging on duty? Or because he’d been caught in a cute moment with their orphaned sparkling? 
“My apologies. I wanted to move Starfall to ensure she was not woken.” Optimus kept his tone warm, approving. 
Ratchet stood, wincing as he stretched a bit. “Yes. Well. I can take her back to her quarters before finding my own berth.” He grumbled after a moment. 
Optimus carefully transferred Starfall into Ratchet’s servos. He paused and stroked a digit along her back. The plating was smooth and warm. “Why was she up?”
“Having trouble recharging, apparently. I think she was probably testing out her new freedom and having a look around.” 
“At least she felt safe enough to recharge with you.” Optimus said, straightening up to his full height. “I had worried she would be more trouble.”
Ratchet snorted and gave the recharging form in his servos a stern look. “Less to do with trust than exhaustion, Optimus. She’s not refueling properly, though I can’t figure out how or why!”
Optimus set a servo on Ratchet’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I have faith that you’ll be able to get through to her, old friend. Starfall has been through a lot in a very short amount of time. She needs your support and patience.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” The medic grumbled to himself as he turned to leave. 
~
The best part of the day, without a doubt, was when Miko, Raf, and Jack came from school. Starfall spent most of the days in her quarters, where she could be left alone. Bumblebee and Bulkhead weren’t so bad, but they looked at her with concern and pity. It made her plating crawl. And Ratchet was always just… watching. Like he knew when she was planning to get into some little mischief. Starfall could barely be in a room with Arcee without trading glares or barbed comments. They hadn’t warmed up to each other since their first meeting. And Optimus… made her uncomfortable. Not because being around him was bad, but because something in her spark told her she could trust him. And she didn’t trust that feeling. 
It was clear that the organics-humans- were sparklings-children- like she was, so there was no need to feel looked down on. Literally and figuratively. Only Jack was close to her height, and Starfall had the strangest feeling she was actually a little taller than him now. Hadn’t they been the same height when she first met them? No matter, it was nice not to be the shortest person around. 
They took delight in teaching her about earth things. It made communicating with them easier. She did have to check with Jack and Raf about some things. On occasion, Miko would tell her things that were lies just to mess with her. Starfall didn’t mind, she told lies about Cybertronians to the girl so she’d have to check with Bulkhead too. 
It was Miko that Starfall spent the most time with. The girl was fun to hang out with and had some wonderful ideas for pranks. Their guardians didn’t approve, but neither seemed bothered by that. 
“So explain to me again what the point of this is?” Starfall looked from the bucket in Miko’s hands to the metal beam high up by the ceiling. 
“The point is that it will be hilarious. You don’t understand, you can never get rid of glitter. It will haunt you like the ghosts of your regrets.” Despite the slightly dark wording, Miko was grinning brightly up at Starfall. 
Starfall huffed and glared up at the metal beam. “Fine, but how are we going to get it up there?”
Miko reached up and tugged on one of Starfall’s wings suddenly. The sparkling hissed and quickly pulled the appendage away, taking several steps back from the human. “Hey! Those are sensitive!!” In fact, they’d been getting more and more sensitive over the cycles- days. Over the days. 
“Sorry.” Miko shrugged a bit. “But you have wings, why don’t you use them and fly the bucket up there? I’ve attached fishing wire to it so we can pull it down without anyone noticing until it’s too late.”
Starfall lightly touched the edge of her wing, feeling the itchy twitches starting up again. She sighed and looked away from Miko. “I still can’t really fly. I mean, you’ve seen me try. Ratchet said I’m not allowed to keep practicing inside.” She huffed out again and crossed her arms. “Not that they’ve let me outside since I got here.” 
Miko reached out to place a hand lightly on Starfall’s arm. “I’m sorry, Starfall. Hey, what if you held onto the wall? You know, for stability! Then you wouldn’t fly in circles and crash.” “I didn’t crash.” Starfall snapped out between clenched denta. “Riiiight. Well, wanna give this a try?” She held up the bucket, wiggling it back and forth. “Or are you scared…?”
Starfall snatched the bucket from the girl, still careful not to hurt Miko with her claws. “I can do it!” She stomped over to the closest wall and shot a glare back at her friend. “And I didn’t crash.” 
Perhaps it had been rash to claim she could get up there. But Starfall couldn’t stand the thought of being seen as weak or scared. It didn’t matter if it was true, people could use those things against you. She had to be strong, like her carrier had been. That thought helped steady her. 
Starfall dangled the bucket off one arm by the handle and carefully dug her claws into the wall. It wasn’t too difficult to force them into the concrete. She kept the power from her thrusters just high enough to give her a little lift. No need to try and show off for Miko. It was going alright, keeping one servo full of claws in the wall and reaching up with the next, until Miko decided to tease her. 
“You know, maybe the problem is that you don’t fly right.” The human girl was sitting cross legged on the floor, obviously having gotten bored with watching Starfall’s slow progress.
“Like you would know?!” Starfall spat the words over her shoulder, wings trembling. 
“I’m just saying, I’ve seen another seeker fly. And he doesn’t fly like that. Actually, I’ve only ever seen him fly as, like, a proper plane. Never when he had feet.” Miko was grinning brightly up at her.
“Pedes.” She growled out. If Starfall had to learn the human words for things, she figured her friends should return the favor. “They’re called pedes, not feet. You have feet. Useless feet.” 
She had let go of the wall with one servo so she could turn to properly glare down at Miko. Starfall felt herself unbalance, wobbling as she tried to stabilize her thrusters beneath herself again. Instinct made her flare her wings, trying to use them to keep herself upright, but the sensors were glitching. They weren’t processing data correctly. 
Instead of straightening and moving back against the wall, Starfall found herself spinning away. Her other servo was ripped free from the concrete as she lost control. Everything twisted in a blur of colors, limbs flailing before she slammed into something solid. Starfall yelped when her cockpit hit the wall. Her thrusters cut out and she fell hard to the ground, just missing landing on one of her wings. 
“Starfall!” Miko had rushed to her side. 
The sparkling pushed herself up, tossing the now empty bucket away. “Ugh.” Starfall wasn’t sure what was worse, the injury to her pride or the fact that she was now coated in purple and pink glitter. 
“You’re not hurt?” It sounded like Miko had swallowed something that was trying to get back out. Her face was turning red as she slapped a hand over her mouth. 
Starfall narrowed her optics and stood, shaking herself as best she could. Nothing but a few minor dents. “Don’t you dare tell Ratchet!” She snapped, feeling angry. Angry was easier than hurt or scared.
“Whoa, whoa.” Miko raised her hands, chuckling slightly. “I won’t say a thing.” 
“Good.” Starfall turned on her heel and stomped out of the room, trailing glitter as she headed to try and wash off the worst of this gunk. She needed a minute alone to gather her thoughts and emotions. What if… what if there was something wrong? What was a seeker that couldn’t fly?
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Red Rose - Chapter 17
Prologue Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 Ch. 16 CH. 17
Summary: Christmas arrives to Cordonia, and Riley feels emotional with the lack of snow and her solitude. Her hopes for a quiet holiday were soon twarted, though, with an attack where she least expected.
Rating: M -  Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.
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Avlona, Cordonia, Christmas Eve 2015
The holidays were a silent happening for Riley that year. It has been that way for years, now. This time, however, it seemed more so, as she now had friends, something like a boyfriend, and had reconnected with Charlotte.
She wasn’t alone by choice, but by circumstance.
Hana was at the Baleares with her parents and other relatives, spending their season under the Mediterranean sun. Drake and Liam were a short drive away from her, at Brigade Hill, but she doubted either the King or the Queen would be too glad seeing her.
Maxwell called her from Switzerland the day after Charlotte and she fled from Applewood. He had apologized he couldn’t say goodbye before the holidays, as Bertrand, unsurprisingly, was in a hurry. It was a good thing, though, as she wouldn’t have to explain why she left in the middle of the night.
After their flight from Applewood, Riley and Charlotte stopped by a deposit, as in to leave in safe-keeping some of her prized possessions, especially those which could compromise her identity, such as other fake passports, her bank card, the key to a Swiss safe deposit box in which she kept other important valuables and miscellaneous documents, which bared her birth name. Her journals, under Liam’s possession, were the only other sensitive object not protected.
Those, and a small jewelry box. One Charlotte wasn’t privy to its existance.
After their quick stop at the warehouse, the two women parted ways. Riley checked into a tourist-y hotel near Paparoúna Court, while Charlotte left for Italy. Not that her marriage was in any good shape, but it was to be expected she would spend her holidays with the Duke in Guastalla, rather than with her in Valona.
While Riley dwelled on that line of thought, her phone went off. “Your ears were burning?” She answered.
“Why?” Charlotte asks, confused.
“I was just thinking about you.” Riley responded, with a smile. “What gives?”
“Not much.” She shrugged. “Federigo is passed out in the couch, thankfully. I’m finishing dinner. You?”
“Room service.” The other said, simply.
“Well, I called to wish you a merry Christmas, but since yours is being as miserable as mine, I can give you a piece of bad news.”
“Bad news?” Riley echoes, concerned. “What happened?”
“Do you remember that Art teacher you were so fond of?” Charlotte lead with that. “Peter Brandl?”
She recalled the mouse-y man who used to teach her Art. “Yes, I do. He was a broker for Ludwig, right?”
“Yeah, he worked for the Fund in Prague.” The blonde hummed.
“What about him?”
“Well, I called mother earlier for wishing her a merry Christmas, and she said his body had been found at the Danube in Hainburg.” Charlotte ripped off the band-aid.
“Mister Brandl is dead?!” The other woman asks, incredulously. “Do they know what happened?”
Charlotte hummed. “The police ruled it as a suicide. Apparently, he was debt-ridden. Besides, he was a lonely man, no friends, no family, no wife, no children. If not for mother’s solidarity, he would go to the homeless pit. At the very least, he got a proper burial.”
“How sad!” Riley lamented. “I wish I could have been to his funeral.”
“Have you read the file I gave you?” She asked, changing the subject.
“Yes, it appears Bellevue kept a comprehensive file of the girls who worked for him.” The black-haired said, calm. “This is about some girl named Leda. She ‘joined’ in 1990 and was relieved of her position a few years later.”
“Anything special about her?” The blonde questioned. “There must be something special about it. Katya said it was on a safe.”
She shook her head instinctively. “Not that I can tell. Except for one thing, she has the marking for a client, number 830, who enjoyed her services for over five months.”
“That’s an awful amount of time to be with a hooker.” Charlotte commented.
“Charlotte.” Riley chastised.
“What?” She asked, in a teasing high pitch. “It is.”
“Be as it may,” The other responded, demeaning. “There is a photo attached to the file. That should be a lead to find out where she is.”
“And who she is.” The blonde echoed.
As she finishes her sentence, the TV blasts the opening theme for ‘María la del Barrio’, a Mexican soap opera.
“I cannot believe you’re watching this crap.” She scoffed. “It’s Christmas. Have some respect for yourself.”
“I like it, okay?” The other defended. “It’s dubbed in Greek. It’s terrible. But I like it.”
Itatí Cantoral, who played the main antagonist Soraya, gave a malicious laughter over at the TV.
“Terrible indeed.” Charlotte echoed. “Hey, remember when Grandmother would play those sappy French radio soaps?”
“Old woman Franziska sure loved those. She put me, you and Alexander to hear those, and then we went out and replay the episode out in the garden.” Riley reminisced.
“Mother got crazy mad with us playing at the flower beds.”
“Of course, she would. We destroyed the roses, making Alexander pluck them every once in a while, to propose to you or to me, as the script dictated.” The black-haired pointed out.
Just then, a knock came from her door. “Are you expecting anyone?” Charlotte asks.
“No, not really.” She responded and walked over to answer the door. The presence startled her. “Drake?!”
“What?!” The woman shouted over the phone. “Drake’s over there?! What on Hell he’s doing?! Pass over the phone to him at once! Are you listening, Riley?!”
Ignoring Charlotte’s voice but mirroring her question, Riley asks: “What are you doing here?”
He scoffed, good naturedly. “Some welcoming, huh, Flowers?”
“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t expecting you.” She said. “Do you want to come in?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” He said, and she let him in.
“What are you doing?” Charlotte asks, over the phone.
“Excuse me for a minute.” Riley says, and then places the cell on her ear. “Talk to you later.”
“No! Wait!” The blonde tried to meddle, but Riley hung up.
The black-haired woman walked him over to the small sitting area on her room and motioned for him to sit. “Now, what good winds bring you here? I thought you’d be dining with Liam and his family tonight.”
“Oh, please.” He scoffed. “You think Regina would let me at the table with them? Sometimes the security let me join their feast, but normally I spend it alone.”
She smirked. “So, you came here to be alone together?”
“Pretty much.” He lowered his sight. “I also brought you something. From Liam.”
He pulled a small box from his coat pocket and slid across the table to her. Inside, there was a small pendant. “It’s beautiful!” She gushed. “Help me put it on?”
“Sure.” He coughed and stood up. She pulled her hair, baring her milky white, soft skin of her neck and shoulders to him. He took the necklace and fastened it.
Suddenly, he was taken by a want to kiss that exposed skin. He lowered his face to it, the warm breath sending chills to Riley’s spine. His height shadowed the woman, who wasn’t short herself. When he was millimeters from the flustering body, a knock resounded through the room.
With that, he sobered up and took a step back. “You should go answer.” He chocked.
She sighed. “Okay.”
Riley walked over to the door the second time that night and opened it.
“Riley!” Maxwell’s perky voice screeched on Drake’s ears and damping his mood.
“Merry Christmas!” Hana wished, sweetly.
Riley was dumbstruck. “Maxwell! Hana! I thought you were abroad.”
“We were.” The young man responded. “But Switzerland was boring, the room was terrible, Bertrand wouldn’t let me ski, so I came back.”
“We met at the lobby, actually.” Hana provided. “My family was thrilled I was invited to the Royal Family private Christmas feast.”
“But you’re here.” Riley pointed out.
“They don’t need to know that.” Hana said, with a wicked smile that felt foreign on her face. “They also don’t need to know I wasn’t invited, either.”
“Well, it is great to have you both here.” Riley smiled at them. “Come in, make yourselves comfortable.”
They stepped into the room and met Drake, standing there. “Drake! You’re here!” Maxwell exclaimed, surprised.
“Are we interrupting anything?” Hana asked, politely.
“No.” The man grumbled in response. “I was just bringing a parcel to Riley. I should leave.”
“Nonsense.” Riley said. “I’ll call room service and we can have a feast up here ourselves.”
“Great! I’m starving!” Maxwell said, sitting at one of the chairs. Hana gave the other three an appraising look and sat down next to the excitable man.
Drake waited standing for Riley to finish the call, as in to offer the last one of the three chairs. She declined with a: “I’ll sit on the bed.”
The black-haired picked up the remote and turned off the finishing credits to María la del Barrio.
“What were you watching?” Hana asks, curious.
“A Mexican soap opera.” Riley answers, dismissive. “It’s just something I do when I’m bored.”
Drake scoffs, mockingly.
“What? Did you think I’d study etiquette for fun?” Riley defies.
“Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse.” He answered.
The woman looked dirty at him and went over to her closet. She put a glass bottle in front of him. “Here, take it before I throw it on your head.”
He looked carefully at her and opened the wrapping. It was a 23-year-old Evan Williams Bourbon Whiskey. It sold for two thousand dollars in most of Cordonia, which was enough for making Drake gape.
“Jesus, Flowers, are you nuts?” He asks, taken aback. “Those things are crazy expensive.”
“I have a friend who let me have it for cheap.” She dismissed his worry. “Charlotte said you preferred Schlitzer, but I couldn’t find any for sale.”
He tried to disguise a grateful blush from seeping into his cheeks. “Thanks, Flowers. I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you.”
“You’ll have to outdo yourself next year, then.” She smirked at him. “Hana, this is yours.” She handed a rectangular package to her.
The Asian felt the package, trying to guess what was inside. Unable to, she asked: “What is it?”
Riley smiled. “Open up and see for yourself!”
The other woman obeyed and teared the wrapping paper. There was a leather-bound notebook.
“It is a sheet music notebook.” Riley explained. “It is completely blank, for you to write down your piano compositions. Well, blank save for the first page.”
“Sie zog tief in sein Herz, wie die Melodie eines Liedes, die aus der Kindheit heraufklingt.“ She read the dedication and wiped her eyes clean of tears. “Thank you, Riley. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, Hana.” They hugged the moment out. “Now, last but not least, Maxwell.”
He was sitting by the edge of his chair, in childish anxiety. “Gimme!”
“Now, Maxwell, I’m going to give you something that symbolizes my trust and care for you.” She handed him a DVD. “This is the recording of the New York leg of ‘Straight to the Heart 2010 Tour’.”
“Sophie Ellis-Baxtor?” He tested the name and took the DVD, confused. “Thanks, I guess.”
She neared his face and whispered to his ear. “Watch it, and then you tell me what you think.”
He looked at her like a kicked puppy. It didn’t take a genius to know he was disappointed. “Okay, Riley.”
The bellboys arrived with their Christmas feast and they settled poorly around the small table and served themselves with turkey and chestnuts.
By ten o’clock, she was alone yet again. Maxwell and Hana excused themselves to get checked into the Hilton, in Vougliameni, while Drake had to return early to the palace, as security wouldn’t let him in later.
Out of some kind of childish sentimentality, Riley persuaded herself to go to the Midnight Mass at a Catholic church nearby. She would have attended the ceremony at Anastasis, but since the Orthodox followed the Julian calendar, Christmas would arrive a week later for the Greek community in Cordonia.
The Cathedral of Our Lady of Good Council was an Italian-style church at the South end of the port area, on top of Gloire Hill. It was the cathedra for the Archdiocese of Valona, and the main congregation for the French Catholics in Cordonia.
She arrived at the temple ten minutes before the start of the mass. The benches were full, but the church wasn’t crowded. Riley waked over to the altar and paid her respects to the image of Cordonia’s patron saint.
With little difficulty, Riley found a secluded seat and waited for the ceremony to begin. The mass started, and a few minutes in, a man sat right next to her.
The priest and a deacon enter the altar and start the Act of Penitence. “I confess to Almighty God, to blessed Mary ever Virgin, to blessed Michael the Archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, to the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, to all the Saints, and to you, brethren, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word and deed: through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.
“Therefore, I beseech blessed Mary ever Virgin, blessed Michael the Archangel, blessed John the Baptist, the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, all the Saints, and you, brethren, to pray for me to the Lord our God.” The congregation repeats after the clergyman.
“You know, this part always tears me up.” The man next to Riley commented.
“Nothing is more wretched than a guilty conscience.” She offhandedly offered.
“Shakespeare?” He asks, uncertain.
“Plautus, a Roman playwright.”
He laughed quietly. “You’re full of little aphorisms, aren’t you, Lady Riley?”
“It is as much fun as it denotes a certain elevation of the intellect.” She shrugged it off. “But we were talking about guilt, were we not, Lord Bellevue?”
“I believe we were.” He hummed. “Though, this is less about my guilty conscience then it is about what you had printed on the papers about me.”
“That much was a given. After all, to have a guilty conscience, one must have a conscience beforehand.” She said, daringly.
He scoffed. “So brave, so much gall.” He took off a black piece of metal from his trench coat’s pocket. It glistened on the Christmas lights of the church and it had an almost-inconspicuous unlocking click. It was a pistol. “Are you still feeling brave?”
Her teeth glistened on an unease smile. “You’d have to be pretty stupid to murder me here now. I’d wager I have until the communion, at the very least.”
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will. We praise You, we bless You, we adore You, we glorify You, we give You thanks for Your great glory, Lord God, heavenly King, O God Almighty Father.
“Lord Jesus Christ, Only-Begotten Son, Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father, who take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us; Who take away the sins of the world, hear our prayer. You Who sit at the right hand of the Father, have mercy on us. For You alone are the Holy One, you alone the Lord, you alone the Most High, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit in the Glory of God the Father. Amen.” The community chanted the Gloria.
“Mercy, that is a funny sentiment.” He scoffed. “You and the press certainly had none for me.”
“And you had none to Katya and Zarina and all the other girls.” She pointed out.
“Merciless? Me? After rescuing those girls from deject poverty? After leading this country through its golden age? I should be hailed.”
“How unfair is life, isn’t it?” She said, sarcastic.
“You are not without your secrets, Lady Riley.” He said, changing the subject slightly. “It is intriguing how you managed to waltz into circles any other person, even with all sorts of noble titles, take a lifetime to infiltrate.”
“I was at the wrong place, at the wrong time.” She countered. “Believe me, I would much prefer to be in New York by now.”
He trailed her neck with his right index finger, while the gun rested on his left hand. “You have posture, you have class, you have beauty. You’re no peasant.”
“Reading the right books and dressing the right clothes, it happens to be not that hard.” She said, shrugging
“So very opinionated. This is not a flattering attribute. And yet, you’ll become Queen of Cordonia soon enough.” He ironized.
She scoffed. “You’re naïve if you think so. Regina picks the Queen, and she chose Madeleine.”
“So, I have heard, but I merely assumed you would have a plan to take her down, just like you had me.” He countered.
She laughed, quietly, as in not to call attention to herself. “And what makes you think I would have taken you down if I had any plans to become Queen? Expose myself like that would be very counterproductive, don’t you think?”
“So, this is what this is all about? Revenge for not being picked?” He said, incredulous for being collateral damage.
“In a way.” She conceded. “But mainly because it is fun to see the world burn.”
The priest begins his sermon: “When the angel tells Mary that she’s going to give birth to Jesus, the message is ‘don’t be afraid’. ‘Fear not’ is what the angel also says to Joseph in his dream. That’s the dream which convinces him to stay faithful to this girl to whom he’s betrothed and who finds herself strangely pregnant. There are lots of reasons to be afraid in the Christmas story. Who wouldn’t be afraid away from home with nowhere to stay and about to give birth? Who wouldn’t be afraid when there was a despot like King Herod around? He wasn’t above murdering members of his own family if he took a dislike to them.
“A couple of months ago I was in Bethlehem for the first time in almost twenty years. We went to Beit Sahour about three kilometers outside Bethlehem. It’s where the Shepherds’ Fields are found. Despite the constant stream of pilgrims, it’s a peaceful place. But there is fear in air. The Shepherds’ Fields look across the valley to an Israeli settlement. In between there’s the security fence and wall separating Israel from the Palestinian Territories. It’s a vivid symbol that where the Prince of Peace was born there is no peace. And yet to troubled Bethlehem countless people come as pilgrims on a journey of faith, curious to see the place where Jesus was born, wanting to catch something of the joy, mystery and love of the Christ-child, God with us. The little town of Bethlehem will be packed tonight.
“Suddenly it seemed to make entire sense to me that Jesus was not born in a place of stability, security, prosperity and freedom. He was born in occupied territory, in poverty, in danger, and where there was no room for him at the inn. Pilgrims to Bethlehem still go to a problem place of high unemployment, where many of its citizens cannot visit Jerusalem just a few miles away and where many citizens of Jerusalem cannot visit Bethlehem. But that’s the point. God reveals himself to us within the troubles of the world, not after our problems are solved. Jesus Christ is born in us when we are ill or after we’ve had a row, when we’re divorced, or when we are lonely. The birth of this child in Bethlehem two thousand years ago wasn’t some simple solution to the world’s problems. He grew to be a man who had to face suffering, an unfair trial and an undeserved death himself. He knew life wasn’t fair. But this is God coming to live alongside us, within us, to bring us hope because even when we don’t love one another he never gives up loving us. That’s the joy of the Christmas message.
“There’s a chapel in the Shepherds’ Fields at Beit Sahour, just outside Bethlehem. There are three paintings within it depicting the story of the shepherds. The first recalls the angels telling the shepherds of the birth of Jesus; the second pictures them at the stable where they find this new born child. The third is of their return journey for Luke says, ‘the shepherds returned glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen’.
“Each of the scenes features a dog with the shepherds. The dog is terrified in the first painting, attentive in the stable, and is clearly dancing with joy on the return journey, ears pricked up, caught in mid-bark and tail wagging. The shepherds and their dog return to work but transformed. They face the same problems and live the same lives but with new hope because of the joy coming from this child, Jesus Christ, God with us.
“Fear not. May the message of the angels and the joy of the shepherds be yours and mine tonight. A very happy and joyful Christmas to you all.” He finishes his sermon.
“Are you a Catholic, Lady Riley?” Lord Bellevue asks.
“I am hardly anything, Lord Bellevue.” She said, inattentive. “I haven’t step on a temple of anything for almost a decade now.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He scoffed. “For all your single-minded dedication to a fleeting, insubstantial goal, you would have a future as a crusader.”
She smirked. “Much the opposite. I do what I do because I believe God is dead, therefore my actions are completely inconsequential.”
“You’ll know for certain soon enough.” He taunted, twisting the gun he held to her waist.
“I’m certain you would much prefer if I was crying and begging for my life.”
He laughed. “I cannot say I would not. You are making this whole thing very boring.”
“I’ll keep your notes in mind next time someone abducts me from a church.” She defied. “But, I fear, I am a lady worthy of the name.”
“If all noblewomen were like you, Lady Riley, there wouldn’t be a single republic in the world.” He praised, ironic.
“I thank you, Lord Bellevue, and as a gesture of goodwill, I would like to remind you we are at the Anaphora. In ten minutes, the old lady to my left is going to come over and wish me a merry Christmas.” She commented. “As much as she’s being a good sport about your more vocal disturbances, I find it hard to believe she wouldn’t notice you’re holding me at gunpoint.”
“Then we should be going to a more private place, no?” His smirk glinted.
Lord Bellevue took her arm, pulled her up and shot to the ceiling three times. The mass came to a halt, and the parishioners started to scream in terror. Taking advantage of the commotion, the former politician pulls her from the seats and out the door.
As the two of them exit the church, however, a police operation had been formed on the stairs. The building was completely surrounded.
“You planned this!” He shouted, angrily.
“You never asked whether I had my phone.” She smirked at him.
He pushed her and was about to shoot her, but he got shot first by the police officers. With the wound, he dropped the gun and Riley scurried away quickly to behind the lines.
She finally found a familiar face, Drake’s, and hugs him, crying, as the adrenaline wears off. “It’s okay,” He whispered feverishly to her ear. “You’re okay now.”
Hana and Maxwell appeared soon after, and Riley hugged them both, tightly. The two of them led her to a car and took her away from the scene.
As the car drove off, Riley could hear Bellevue being taken forcefully by the policemen, cursing and shouting.
Red Rose - Masterlist
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Taglist: @boneandfur; @mfackenthal; @zilch3
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batfam-imagines · 7 years
Text
Face the Music
Prompt: If your requests are open, could you write a oneshot were batsis,who's between Tim and Damian's age or is Damian's twin sister, is constantly ignored, like they don't mean to but she's just kind of invisible to/overshadowed by the batfam, so she decides on staying with the superfam over summer to help at the Kent Farm (Of course Alfred knows but he doesn't tell) and the batfam doesn't notice till like a month in that batsis isn't at Wayne Manor and they're trying to find her and such.
 ----------
Being the granddaughter of the Demon Head isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Being Damian’s twin sister is even worse.
“Dad?”
“Not now, Y/N”
Your father keeps his back turned and continues to talk to Damian. “Dad, I just …”
“I said not now!”
Damian’s lip curls slightly when he glances at you, “Leave now, Y/N. Father and I are discussing the Mission, which you are not a part of”
You flinch, and quickly leave the cave. “Alfred?”
“In the study, Miss Y/N. Were you able to talk to your father?”
“No, he was busy with Dami, he didn’t have time to talk to me”
Alfred sighs quietly, “You cannot allow the men of this house to ignore you, Miss Y/N”
“I try Alfred! I try to get their attention! But I’m just not good enough! I’m not part of the Mission so I don’t warrant any attention!”
Gentle hands draw you into a brief hug, “You do not need your fathers permission, this time. I will allow you to go to the Kent farm for the summer. Who will be there?”
“Kon, Clark, and Clarks mom, Martha. I’m gonna be helping out around the farm”
“Very well. As long as you promise to write to me at least once a week.”
That forces a chuckle out of you, “This isn’t the old times, Alfie. I can just call you”
“Perhaps I enjoy receiving letters, Miss Y/N”
“Alright, alright, I’ll do both. You’ll keep me updated on the boys?”
“Of course. Now” Alfred gently nudges you toward the door, “It is time for you to pack. I received a call from Mister Kent, he will be here in three hours to pick you up”
“Thanks, Alfred!”
--
You and Clark land in front of the Kent farm, Kon landing behind you. “Why is this bag so heavy?!”
Rolling your eyes you turn and take the duffel bag from your friend, “Stop whining! You have super strength, and the bag isn’t that heavy! It just has cloths in it!”
“Clark? Is that you?”
“Yeah, Ma! I brought Conner and Y/N with me!”
Martha Kent quickly steps out to the front porch, “Well don’t just stand there come give your mother a hug!” Clark smiles, quickly giving Martha a hug, Kon is next, and the, surprisingly, Marth wraps her arms around you. For a split second, you panic, not having receive a hug from anyone but Alfred in a long time.  “It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N! I hope you enjoy staying with us. Come on now, I’ve made pie”
Clank stands beside Conner, “They ignore her you know, the Bats. She didn’t even tell them she was leaving. The poor kids touch-starved and she doesn’t even realize it”
Conner nods, “I know, but Grandma will fix that. The two of us will just have to make sure that she has the best summer possible”
“Yeah, we will”
--
“Pennyworth, who were you talking to?”
“No one, Master Damian, just a family member of mine”
Damian’s eyes narrow but decides to let the subject go, “Father would like to know if you have seen Y/N. Todd asked where she was, and Father has not seen her”
“I can’t say that I have, Master Damian. I have not seen her in quite a while”
Damian hums, “Very well, I will tell father and Todd”
Almost an hour later Jason comes up from the Cave. “Alfred, Damian says that you haven’t seen Y/N? How long has it been?”
“Quite a while, Master Jason. Come to think of it, I cannot quite remember the last time I saw Miss Y/N”
“Damn, well I’m gonna try her phone again. If you see her, will you let her know I need to talk to her?”
“Of course”
“Thanks, Alfie”
Once Jason leaves, Alfred picks up the phone and calls Y/N. After a month and a half the rest of her family has finally notice that she wasn’t in the Manor.
--
“I don’t know, Kon. I’ve never ridden a horse before, what if I fall off?”
Conner chuckles, gently picking you up and putting you on the back of the horse, “If you fall, I’ll catch you. You don’t have to worry about falling, Blueberry’s really smooth”
“Alright, as long as you stay with me”
A gentle hand steadies you in the saddle, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you”
Once the two of you get going, and you learn how to balance on the horse, the ride is surprisingly easy. The two of you make a loop around the farm, just taking in the open land. By the time you get back to the farm house the sun is starting to disappear behind the horizon.
“It’s so peaceful here, I wish I didn’t have to leave”
“You can come back whenever you want, you know. Grandma already said that you’re welcome whenever.”
Before you can respond, Clark steps into the barn. “Alfred called while you were on your ride. He said your father has finally noticed that you aren’t in the Manor. Jason actually noticed you missing first.”
“I’m not missing, I tried to tell Dad where I was going, but he was too busy to listen”
“Well, you might want to call him and tell him you’re fine, because he just sent out an emergency alert to all members of the Justice League.”
“WHAT?!?!”
Clark runs a nervous hand through his hair, “Batman called a meeting, all of the original members of the Justice League are gonna be there. I think you should call him, let him know that you’re safe, and tell him to call off the search”
You’re shaking, everything seems like it’s too much as this point, “He can’t be bothered with me when I’m at the Manor. Clark I’ve been gone for a month and a half, almost two months at this point, and they are just now noticing that I’m gone. I’m so done right now. I’m not calling him, I’m not calling any of them. You can tell my father where I am when you have your meeting, but he won’t be hearing anything from me”
“You know that I have to tell him, right?”
“You really don’t, Kal” Conner throws an arm around your shoulders, drawing you close, “She’s right, they didn’t even notice that she was gone. Y/N can just live here, with me and Grandma, somewhere she’ll have people who care about her”
“Kon, you know that’s not the right thing to do …”
“IT’S NOT RIGHT HOW THEY TREAT HER!!” Conner visibly pulls back, reigning in his anger, “It’s not right how they ignore her, it’s practically child neglect.”
“I know, but now she can come here. Now she has us to look after her. She’s always welcome in either of our apartments.”
“Thank you guys. You – you don’t know how much this means to me. But, Clark’s right, he has to tell my father that I’m safe. You should probably head to your meeting now, I’m gonna enjoy the rest of today with Conner”
Clark nods, pulling you into a tight hug before he flies away.
--
“What if we run away together. We can find some remote island, I can fly back and forth to the main land for supplies. It could just be the two of us, and anyone else we decided to tell”
You and Conner are laying on the roof of the barn, watching the stars. You never knew how many of them there are, the Gotham smog tends to block out all starlight.
“An island, huh? I don’t really think I’d want to live on an island, too many sharks in the ocean. How about we live in the mountains.”
“That could work!”
“I’m kidding! I can’t just run away forever. Dad wouldn’t stop looking for me, and then he’d pull out the kryptonite just to he could beat the crap out of you!”
Connor pauses mid-laugh, “Clark’s on his way back. Bruce will be here in the morning, he had to take care of something in Gotham tonight”
“Of course he did. The Mission is more important than anything” Clark lands quietly beside you, still wearing the Superman suit, “So, how did your meeting go?”
“Bruce was angry. Apparently, Alfred refused to tell him anything, and at first so did I. Eventually I told him that you were somewhere safe. He managed to deduce that you were here. He said that he’ll …”
“Be here tomorrow morning, yeah, I know.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N”
“It’s not your fault, Clark. Like I said before, nothing comes before the Mission, not even his own children”
“Come down to the house, Ma made apple pie”
“Alright, it’s probably the last time I’ll ever have it. Dad will probably lock me in the Manor and then forget about me”
“We won’t let that happen, I promise”
“What are you gonna do, Conner? Break into Batman’s house, and kidnap me?”
Conner’s eyes briefly flash red, “If I have to, that’s exactly what I’ll do”
--
The next morning comes too soon. You know that your father is going to be angry, that he’s probably going to lock you in the Manor, and that your twin is going to be pissed that he had to look for you.
“I could hide you in the barn, you know.”
You roll your eyes, “I’m not hiding in a barn from my own father, I just wish that I could stay out here. It’s so … quiet compared to Gotham. There’s no villains, no vigilantes, no galas, nothing like that. Everything just seems simpler out here”
“I know what you mean. It’s nice to have a sanctuary. Clark has his Fortress of Solitude, and I mean I could go there too, but I like it better here.”
“I understand. Did Clark say what time Dad would be here?”
“No” Connor takes a huge bite of her cereal, pointing the now empty spoon at you, “He hasn’t tried to call you?”
“He can’t, remember, my phone slid off the roof, I haven’t exactly had time to get another one!”
“Oh yeah” He pauses, tilting his head toward the door. “Clark said that your dad is about 50 miles away, so he should be here in the next half hour”
“Yeah, I assumed he would be here early”
“There’s still enough time, we can make a break for it …”
You just roll your eyes, going into the kitchen to help Mrs. Kent clean up from breakfast. Exactly twenty-two minutes later Connor comes to get you. The jet is less than a mile away, and Clark said that it would be best if you were already waiting on the porch. The jet comes into view a minute later. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders an raise your chin, it’s finally time to face the music.
--
Jason is actually the first one out of the jet. He sprints up the porch steps and wraps you tightly in his arms.
“Don’t you ever do something like that again, you hear me?” He’s trembling, fine tremors wrack his whole body, “I thought something had happened to you. I’m gone for 3 months and you go missing, no one’s heard from you, no leads, nothing, you just aren’t there anymore”
Jason was the only one in your family, other than Alfred, who didn’t ignore you. He was constantly stealing you away from the Manor just to spend time with you, but sometimes he would go on missions that lasted between three to six months. Half the time he wouldn’t be able to contact you at all, and your father refused to tell you anything.
“I left a note for you …”
“Yeah, and all it said was that you were leaving for a while. That doesn’t help me, short stack! You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry, Jay. I kinda expected to be back before you came home”
“I asked B to wait in the jet until I talked to you. He’s pissed, Y/N. He flipped his shit when he realized you’d left. How long have you been gone, kid? Obviously, a while, you’re a hell of a lot tanner than when I last saw you”
“I’ve been here for almost two months as this point.”
Jason’s eyes widen, one hand running through his hair, “Two months … You’ve been gone for two goddamn months, and your own father didn’t fucking notice?!?!?”
“Um, yeah” You scratch the back of your head nervously, “I left with Conner and Clark on June 16th, and its August 3rd now”
“I’m gonna kill him”
“Don’t do that! You promised me no more killing unless absolutely necessary!”
“This is necessary!”
Mrs. Kent opens the front door, still drying her hands on a dish towel, “What’s all this ruckus out here? Clark! Where are your manors? Invite these nice people in for some snacks”
“Ma, I don’t …”
“Clark Kent, I know I raised you with manors”
“Yes, ma’am. Y/N, I’ll get Bruce and Damian from the Jet, why don’t you, Jason, and Conner head inside”
“Thanks, Clark”
--
Being stared down by your father and twin brother is extremely awkward, especially when they aren’t saying anything. It isn’t until after the snacks are cleared away, and everyone has once again moved out to the porch that they say something.
“Are you going to return to Gotham with us, sister? Or are you going to continue to run away and waste our time?”
“I didn’t run away, Damian!”
“tt” Damian rolls his eyes, mouth set in an almost permanent sneer, “You do not tell anyone where you are going, refuse to answer your phone, refuse to come home of your own violation … need I go on?”
“I tried to tell you and father! You two were too busy to listen to me! I told Alfred where I was going, and if anything happened I was living in the same house as two Super’s!”
Your father finally steps forward, getting in between you and your twin, “What you did was irresponsible and selfish, Y/N. What if the city needed me while I was out searching for you? People could have died because of your actions. Do you know what it’s like to have to worry about someone who …?”
Tears sting your eyes, “Go ahead! What were you going to say? Someone who can’t defend themselves? Someone who’s a disappointment? Someone who will never be the daughter you wanted? Someone who refuses to be ignored any longer?!” You take a deep shuddering breath, finally meeting your father’s eyes, “Then why did you come? Why did you come if I’m so terrible to have around?”
Bruce reaches out, tries to touch your shoulder, but you quickly evade, “Y/N …”
“No, you listen. I’ve been gone for two months! Two whole months, and you weren’t even the one to notice that I was gone! Jason noticed before you did, dad!” More tears slid down your cheeks, “Do you know what it’s like to be ignored like this? To be so easily forgotten? Dad, do you know why I was allowed to live?” Bruce shakes his head, “I was meant to die shortly after Damian and I moved in with you. Mother had orchestrated my death, it was meant to bring you closer to her, out of shared parental grief. I’m not sure why I didn’t die, but sometimes … sometimes I wish I did!!”
“Kid …”
It’s like all the fight’s drained out of you, and now you’re just tired, “It’s okay, Jason. I won’t argue anymore, I’ll go back to the Manor. I won’t leave anytime soon, it’ll be just like before”
“Y/N, don’t …”
You turn, facing Conner, “Thank you, for everything this summer. It was really nice to spend time with you, and I really hope that we can stay friends”
Conner envelopes you in a huge hug, squeezing you tightly to his chest, “Of course we can, we’ll be friends forever now.”
“Y/N”
“I’m coming father, I won’t keep you from Gotham any longer, just let me grab my bag”
“Sister …”
“Don’t start your shit, Damian. Being your twin sister has been hell, and right now I can’t take any of your insults”
Damian looks taken aback by your hostility, “I only wanted to say that I am sorry for how I treated you in the past, and I hope you know that … I will protect you if Mother ever tries to hurt you”
You let out an exhausted sigh, “Yeah, you’ll protect me, if you even notice me. I’ll be back in a minute, I need to pack”
--
Once Y/N is gone Jason, Conner, and Clark turn to face Bruce and Damian.
“You see what you’ve done now, Bruce? You see what I’ve been trying to tell you for years? Do you even know that girl? She’s been with you for six years now, she’s your daughter, and you don’t even know what her favorite color is!”
Bruce straightens, “I understand that I haven’t been very present in her life …”
“I’m gonna stop you there, Mr. Wayne. I understand that you’re Batman, that you protect Gotham from the bad guys, but did you ever think of how much damage you have done to that girl upstairs. Y/N is … she’s amazing, probably one of the most kind hearted and forgiving girls that I have ever met, and you’ve hurt her. You have made her feel worthless, like she doesn’t deserve attention, and I’ve been working for two months now to fix that.” Conner straightens his shoulders, “I’ll be visiting her a lot, just to make sure that you don’t undo what I’ve accomplished. You have a really special girl, Mr. Wayne, I’d hate to see you lose her forever.” Then the teenager turns and walks into the house.
“He’s right, Bruce”
“I know he’s right, Clark! I know I’ve messed up! I don’t need everyone here to tell me that”
Clark opens his mouth, but Jason beats him to it, “Then what are you going to do about it!? You can bitch that you know how terrible of a father you are, but what are you going to do to fix it? Because don’t think for once second that I won’t take her away from you. Conner and I won’t let you neglect her anymore. What you’ve been doing is considered child neglect, you’re just lucky that she’s old enough to take care of herself or she might be dead by now from your carelessness.”
“I’ll change, Jason, Clark. I’ll change for her, I’ll pay more attention, I’ll listen to her, I’ll go to counseling with her, I’ll go to parent classes if I have to! I didn’t realize …” Bruce breaks off when his voice cracks, his hands tremble, “I’ll be a good father, I promise”
Damian places one hand on his father’s shoulder, “I believe that we both have made mistakes, Father, and that we both have quite a long way to go until we gain Y/N’s trust back”
“We’ll do everything in our power to make this up to her. I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten” Everyone outside can hear Y/N and Conner coming down the stairs, “We have a long way to go to make it up to her, to prove that we care for her.” Bruce squares his shoulders, “We have to own up to what we’ve done, it’s time to face the music.”
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