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leejeongz · 4 years

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nsfw a-z: PARK JIHOON (treasure)

requested: yes, by anon

🔅thanks for requesting sweetheart i hope u like it🔅

most of this is taken from conversations i’ve had with my good pal @multifandomwhxre there are probably thousands of direct quotes lol 🥺😳 if ur reading this, pls give her a follow ❤️

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he gets quite soft. since he’s a hard dom, he wants to show you that even though you’re his little bitch, you’re also his little baby that he wants to cuddle forever. i think he’d like to talk about what happened and actually praise you in hopes of getting praised back.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he likes your eyes, he likes how they say everything. they tell him everything you’re too shy to say or everything you’re not allowed to say.

on him, he likes his arms (shocker ik). his physical strength gives him even more power over you, like being able to pin you down on the bed or up against a wall, maybe even hold you for a short while.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he LOVES to cum inside you but only when you agree to it. if you don’t, he’s more than happy to pull out and cum on your stomach and admire how pretty it looks. when he decides you’re just gonna suck his dick, he takes great care trying to get all of his cum into your mouth and making you swallow it while his hand holds up your chin, forcing you to look at him as you do so. sometimes it doesn’t always go as planned, getting it over your face, but he’d just be like “oh look at all this mess you just made” and then use his fingers to put in all into your mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

all the pictures you send him get saved into an album and he uses them and them only to get off to, even some selfies are worthy of being put in the wank bank. he thinks porn is cheating and if he ever caught you watching it, he’d be pretty disappointed rather than turned on (even if u were just fwb), so that’s why he uses ur pics and his imagination.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he knows what he’s doing, alright. he’s had enough experience to know what he likes and that’s pretty much all that matters to him and all he lets on to you too. (he’s probably only had one sexual partner, but the way he acts makes you think he’s had more)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

butterfly (lying on the edge of the bed (or any surface) while he stands between your legs)

he loves being able to pull you closer to him by your legs, being able to reach deeper inside you and (maybe his favourite parts) being able to grab your tits and rub your clit with his thumb. there are no disadvantages of this position for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

very serious. might laugh AT you but that’s the only laughing to be heard.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

completely clean shaven. even the balls lol.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

not very romantic. at all. you’re still his and he doesn’t let you forget that. but you’re his cum slut or his dirty little whore in the moment. kisses are few and far between and mainly occur after he’s finished.

just wanna make a quick point- he’s not always gonna be hard dom jihoon who loves to tease and doesn’t care for ur wants. ofc he reserves some time for you two to actually be romantic, with little tickles and smooches. he can switch it up real quick depending on how YOU are feeling, it’s not about him all the time. i just chose to write this mainly about the other side of him since that is the most InTeREsTiNG and probably the most frequent kind of sex you’d have.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

only once a week. quite secretive about it when he’s acc doing it but doesn’t shy away from cracking jokes or even just generally talking about masturbation with anyone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

where do i even begin i think it would be easier to list kinks he doesn’t have… anyway:

degradation - in the moment, you’re his slut, his whore and your desires mean very little to him. he’s not going to stop when you ask him to stop (unless u say the safe word or seem genuinely uncomfortable), you ARE going to do what he tells you to do and when he tells you to do it and you are not going to do anything else.

bondage (kinda?)- handcuffs are his best friend, he likes having your hands where he can see them or where he can hold onto the chain/your wrists, behind your back is his favourite, but he never knows which he prefers, holding them or pulling your hair. even though he has handcuffs, sometimes he likes to spice it up and use a leather belt, he finds this hotter and it turns him on a lot more.

corruption - this can include taking your virginity or just “teaching” someone innocent (virgin or not) about sex. jihoon would love it if you kept asking questions and he could just show you. he’d love to see the sluttier side of you become more and more noticeable and apparent, knowing he did that to you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he’s up for doing it anywhere but he’d rather do it in the comfort of his own home, in the bedroom.

he wouldn’t be opposed to doing it on someone else’s bed. i imagine he’d actually find it pretty funny to fuck you on someone else’s bed, let you both get it all dirty, then go and face the friend all innocently. the inside joke/secret could be used for teasing or just to bring you closer together.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

i mean making him jealous always makes him wanna show you who you really belong to but do you really wanna be risking the best fuck of your life like that. he could easily get rid of you if you even slightly overstep the boundaries.

it’s safer to just… act like a little brat. telling him you don’t wanna do something for him like getting him a drink gets him real mad and mad jihoon=turned on jihoon when it comes to you.

but also just the normal stuff. seeing you all dressed up nice makes him wanna cancel your plans for you. pressing yourself against him while spooning gives him an instant hard on (and you need to be punished for doing that to him). sometimes even just the way you look at him, maybe it reminds him of how you look up at him while sucking his dick.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

let you be the dom 😳 absolutely never not in a million years. some guys might like to watch you try, but he doesn’t even give you the chance. he likes it when you top, but he would never EVER let you be in control.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers to receive. likes to fuck your face and watch your mascara get ruined. wants you to take his whole dick, every last inch and will not be satisfied until you do.

when giving, he also likes to use his hands too. this man knows where the clit is i’m just saying. very rare that he eats you out (would rather use his fingers or toys during foreplay) and usually doesn’t last that long because it turns him on too much, he just wants to fuck you. when he does go down on you, it’s usually after he’s finished (doesn’t want to if he’s cum inside u tho).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

whatever makes you squirm and moan the most. starts slow but gets fast real quick. once you let out even a hint of pleasure, he’s gonna slow it right down again. the “hard and fast” approach doesn’t work for everyone and so he’d make it suit your needs.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

would rather be able to spend time making the experience better and dirtier than the last, however, if he wanted to fuck there and then, or if he wanted to be in your mouth right at that moment, and there’s nothing stopping him, he’ll just take you to the bathroom or smth and would just d o i t. (tease him for a fast pass to the bathroom)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he will do almost everything once, and most of the time will enjoy it and do it again. a light bit of bdsm and sensory deprivation (with a safe word of course) would be incorporated into what you pair would deem a normal round after just a few nights.

he’d also try anything you wanted to, he wouldn’t shy away from anything that you suggested, even if he thought he wouldn’t like it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can usually last for a while (a while in my opinion anyway idk what u think is a long time CoUgH cOUgh evie) maybe 20-30 minutes (including foreplay ofc) but he can only usually last one round a night. he’s more than happy to eat you out or put his hands to good use if you wanna cum again tho- one of the only times he’ll let you tell him what to do.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

uses toys to tease you. likes holding a vibrator to your clit and telling you not to cum until he says you can. it really turns him on to use them on you. but if he ever caught you using them on yourself without his permission… you’re in for one hell of a “talking to”.

would never use them on himself- he thinks giving you the power to use them on him, or even using them on himself, is too much power that he doesn’t have for himself if that makes sense.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

a whole bloody lot okay. he doesn’t care where you are or who you’re with, if he wants to tease you, he will. is the type to buy one of those toys that you can control on your phone and then laugh when you’re at point of orgasm in the middle of dinner. the reactions he gets from you might turn him on a little, and it’s always your fault if they do, you’re gonna pay for it.

he’s really REALLY unfair during sex too, although to him it’s very fair that you have to wait to be treated. as i mentioned before, he likes to steady the pace when you’re getting into it and he also likes slapping his dick on you to tease you before actually going in. just some of the many things he does to tease you and to treat you “as you deserve”

a lot of the teasing he does is for you though, don’t get me wrong. he knows this will make up you hungrier and you will cum harder and feel good so he doesn’t it all the more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

GROWLS

only so you can hear them, right next to your ear.

and also a lot of degradation, but volume isn’t something he cares about with that.

idk where to put this but i don’t think he’d be a fan of you being too loud, especially when there are other people in the house. if they were gonna hear anyone, he wants it to be him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“come here” jihoon orders as you shut the front door behind you.

you apprehensively approach the coach upon which he is sat, relaxed but noticeably hard.

“care to explain this” he shows you the text you sent him as you were on your way home reading “remember that cash you gave me to spend?” with a photo of your new ruby red lingerie set attached. “you knew what you were doing, didn’t you? maybe i shouldn’t even punish you for this, but i want to”

you swallowed audibly, knowing you were going to be punished, kind of excited about what’s to come.

“get here” he nodded towards his lap. you did as he requested, lying face down on his lap, and he immediately pulled your jeans down a little. he rubbed your ass a little before forcefully planting a harsh hand on it. the other hand held your wrists together behind your back, squeezing them until they became numb. you squealed a little which encouraged another smack. both cheeks soon became the same colour as your new lingerie, still jiggling as much as the first time even though you were tense.

“you want another?” he asked. you nodded without thinking, the stinging infesting your brain. “hmm interesting” he sat back for a moment, considering his next move while his hand rested on your back. you tried to get up… little did you know this was when the real punishment was going to begin.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

does it matter this guy can give you all the pleasure you need with whatever tools he’s got 👀

but i think he’s average tbh… maybe a lil bit longer and girthier (?) but nothing too large. one of the biggest in group. still enough to have you choking and gagging in the first 5 mins of a blowjob hahahahahah

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

very high 😳 and he’s not afraid to show it. 5 days a week is his ideal but he understands that too much of a good thing can make you bored of it so it’s usually probably just once or twice a week. expects some spontaneous head when ur not gonna acc have sex tho.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

once he knows that you’re happy and that you’ve had a good time, he can fall asleep anytime (usually pretty quickly bc he’s tired from having a literal workout with you). if something seems off with you afterwards, he’d stay awake for hours thinking what he could have possibly done wrong, even though he knows you’d tell him if something was wrong.

#park jihoon #park jihoon smut #treasure #treasure smut #park jihoon imagines #treasure imagines #smut

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uglyshirtsinc · 3 years

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AIGHT HERE WE GO BUCKLE UP!! Endermen hybrids Illumina, Purpled, and Ranboo! With a sprinkle of Technodad and Sonboo, a drizzle of Little Brother Purpled and Big Brother Punz, with a side of Illumina and Fruit friendship! Less go! This was meant to be a ramble but literally ended up a fic outline?? Could even be read as a fic if you wanted??? What the hell 6 am me???

Endermen hyrbid are valuable because since they're half human instead of making enderpearls they make eyes of ender, and they respawn like humans do so they're used to farm ender eyes.

Ranboo meets Illumina and Purpled after being kidnapped and separated from his dad at the wee age of eleven meets sixteen year old Illumina and eleven year old Purpled.

He's tossed into a cell with the two of them, Illumina being there to calm the younger two down after being used for the farm. Whenever Illumina is brought back to the cell, he cares for the boys and dotes on them, acting much more worried and clingy that normal. They let him take care of them, knowing that keeping them safe calms him.

They talk about their lives before being taken, Illumina talks about the adventures he and his friend Fruit would go on. The dangerous things they did. He promises the boys to one day show them cool tricks, using the excuse of "the cell is too tiny and someone would get hurt" as to why he can't show them off there, not wanting to tell them the little portions of food he recieves (even less considering he gives most to the boys) has eaten away at his strength.

Purpled talks about his adoptive brother Punz who's just a bit older than Illumina, at age seventeen. How he was a cool mercenary hired to do "super secret" stuff and protect people. He tells them about his trident and tomahawk.

When Ranboo opened up, it gave Illumina his first real sense of hope he's had in a long time. Ran talks about his dad, emperor of the Antarctic Empire and faithful patron of the powerful Blood God. Illumina had heard of the Arctic Empire's hybrid son and after story after story began to believe that Ran really was the prince of the Empire. Ran's father obviously loved him, each story leaving him in tears of either longing or laughter. His father would be searching for them, and he would find them.

Weeks turned to months and nothing changed, until Ran was on the floor screaming in pain and Purpled was hiding in the corner wailing in fear. Illumina could hear cracking, popping, and spotted two hard lumps just next to Ranboo's shoulder blades and realized he wasn't just some Enderman hybrid, but rather a dragon hybrid. When the pain finally subsided and their captors returned to take the two young boys Illumina knew what he had to do.

He didn't know much of Gods and patrons, only what he read while searching the strongholds with Fruit after their latest adventure.

Patrons were messy, being worthy to have one and be a follower was even messier. But within that moment, he didn't care. Thousands of voices in his head was better than having to witness those monsters that held them captive force Ran to cough and gag and wheeze in attempt to get Dragons Breath from the boy. It was worth it to return Purpled to his brother, to see the boys eyes light up the same way they did when Ran said his dad would save them. And for just a moment, Illumina let himself be selfish. It was worth it to get to hold his best friend close, to be strong enough to scale buildings and run from golems they'd messed with. To see the sunrise over a snowy mountain, to show the world he was faster, stronger, and smarter than anyone imagined.

Cutting his hand on a jagged rock sticking from the walls that he had warned the boys about so often, be used his own blood to draw the symbol. When it glows and the world fades, stands before him a towering man with hair as white as snow, wearing the finest attire fit for a king, dressed in gold with everything he wore.

Wordlessly, a deal is made and as their hands shake Illumina is staring into dark, ruby red eyes sparkling with a beast like excitement. The Blood God speaks and tells him "They have been waiting." And Illumina knows what he means.

When the world returns, his ragged and dirty clothes are replaced by the ones he would wear before the monsters took him. A pouch of emeralds hangs from his belt and a familiar black mask covers his nose and mouth. His strength has returned, but at a cost he has yet to find out.

There's no whispers, no cries, no one yelling in his head. There's no insanity blocking his train of thought. No amnesia. He is Illumina.

He wraps himself with the one thin blanket they were allowed, curling up near the gate to keep himself and his clothes covered.

Purpled is first to return and Illumina places a figer over his lips, signaling Purpled to stay quiet. When Ran returns, it takes Illumina less than thirty seconds to have the monstrous man on the ground unconscious. Ran and Purpled watch in awe as he checks the horrid man for anything of value to them. A ring of keys, a pouch of coin, an iron sword, and a map are all Illumina deems worthy.

While his strength has returned, he's mindful of the boys and their weak bodies. He carries Purpled on his back, the violet eyed boy the smallest out of them all.

It takes hours to escape their prison mostly undetected. When they do, Illumina grabs the first horse he can find that's saddled up and tells the boys to hold on as he rides off.

The map was appreciated beyond comprehension. It doesn't take long to find a town and get the boys proper clothing that will survive the journey to the Arctic. Keeping them close and their heads down they get what they need tools wise and leave before the sun can even set.

It's hard, telling Purpled that he'll have to wait even longer to see his brother, but promises once they return Ranboo home that Punz can come there to take him home. If Illumina must admit, he chooses Technoblade first because once it hits the news of the princes return and Illumina's name is spread, he hopes Fruit will come and find him, even if they have to meet in the middle.

Throughout the terror and pain, they push through. From the nights they got separated, Purpled clinging to Ran and assuring the dragon hybrid Illumina will find them, fighting off zombies when Ran couldn't stand straight to hold a sword. The relief when Illumina scoops them both into his arms and holds then tighter than before.

With hunters hot on their tail they can't afford to stop and it takes four months itself to reach the borders between the Arctic Empire and whatever land they found themselves in.

Ran's wings have grown in, one a dark, scaley black with brilliant green in the folds between each bone. The other is a is white and reminds Illumina of a jellyfish, bits and tassles hanging from the wing giving it a much more fragile, paper thin appearance. Both are incredibly strong, despite their looks, and it's often the intimidation factor the two wings bring that gets them out of sticky situations.

A year has passed since they've been held in captivity, Illumina now seventeen and the boys twelve.

Illumina buys the cheapest tickets to the Empire, having to hold Ran's hand to keep him from teleporting ahead in excitement. He cries multiple times, the feeling of finally being free and so close to home hitting him like a truck. Illumina sees the excitement on Purpleds face, knowing after Ran he gets his family too.

They arrive on the island and immediately Ranboo is dragging them the way to the inner walls. Claiming to know his home like the back of his hand. Passing by a few guards, Purpled asks why they don't just tell the guards they have the prince.

"The guards were the whole reason Ranboo ended up where he was, plus they could try killing us immediately thinking we took Ran. I can't risk putting you two in any more danger." Is the reply he gets.

They teleport to the other side of the walls easily, walking to the other, and teleporting. This repeats for two days till they reach the inner most wall. Techno stands on a platform in the town center, his expression showing no emotion and stance as proper as ever. Just watching him stand so straight makes Illumina's back ache.

Ranboo sobs on the spot and before he can call for his father and rush forward a hand is placed on Illumina's shoulder with a harsh grip.

The guard asks who they are, saying they most definitely are not meant to be there, and within that moment a rage so heavy it hits Illumina like a tidal wave.

A year of torture and pain, months of walking and risking his life to get here and right as he can reach it someone stops him. Illumina barely registers it before the boys jump back screaming and he's pulled his sword out to hit the other man.

He faintly hears cries of "Harvey!" As more people rush towards them. He can only focus on his blade pressing against the man, Harvey's, sword and the deep laughter filling his mind.

"It seems you've finally been broken into." The Blood God thinks aloud.

He yells for Ran to run to his dad who's being ushered of stage, his speech being cut short.

Ran looks between his father who has yet to notice him and then back to Illumina who's risked so much for him. To Purpled, who looks horrified and is trying his hardest to pull back Illumina.

And he chooses them.

Jumping between Illumina and Tapl he unfurls his large wings and yells out with a slightly staticy voice "Stop!"

And it's as if the world has stopped, the Blood God no longer speaking in Illumina's mind, Purpled can sag his shoulders in relief, and all eyes are on them.

He looks into Tapl's heterochromatic eyes and in a voice barely above a whisper says "Stop attacking my family."

Tapl steps back, the other guards step back. All can easily recognize the missing Prince, from the two-toned hair to the sparkling eyes only he possesses.

His name is breathed out and demands attention. Ranboo turns to gaze at his father from across the short distance and it's real.

They meet in the middle and Ran holds his father like a scared child, and Techno allows himself to crumble and cry. He cries for the child thought to be dead, stolen from him by those he trusted. He cries for the year and months he's spent separated from him. They cry together, and tears of pent up pain turn to tears of happiness. His grandfather and uncles appear soon enough, he's wrapped in hugs so tight and a pair of wings so warm he could fall asleep.

Purpled and Illumina and thanked for bringing him back, and all Illumina asks is for them to help them find their homes. A message is sent far and wide of Purpled's reappearance and it takes less than a month for a blonde boy, fresh i to adulthood to come crashing through the castle doors and Purpled to find himself wrapped in his big brothers arms once more.

Punz sobs so loudly it's heard from across the palace, clinging to his baby brother and cradling him like a baby.

You'd think after the royal family just about got on their knees to thank him, Illumina would be used to it and stop being so embarrassed, but something about seeing Purpled light up like he's dreamed of seeing the boy do and finally getting to see with his own two eyes the brother he talked about makes him very thankful for the mask there to hide his flushed cheeks.

Ranboo and Purpled aren't ready to let go, so Punz stays with his brother in the castle for awhile.

Illumina is asked thousands and thousands of questions, where they were taken, how they escaped, etcetera.

He takes Techno aside and confesses the deal he made in return for their freedom. He confesses he has yet to know what he's given up to the Patron and his fears. He confesses that He couldn't bare the thought of young Purpled loosing his hope and being raised in a place like that, Ranboo being hurt worse and worse for bottles of acidic breath.

He apologizes for being selfish and wanting to find his family.

And for the first time in forever, he's being held in the safety of a warm hug. He gets to cry and be comforted, he gets to be weak.

It takes longer, but one day new face appears and after four years he breaths in that ridiculously sweet scent of green apples and sweet fruits that Fruit Berries always had. He hugs his friend once again.

They show the boys their tricks, as Illumina promised. They watch them do stupidly dangerous things that make Phil, Techno, and Wilbur flinch and jump to catch the two seventeen year olds, always groaning in faux annoyance watching them land safely, Phil claiming this'll give him a heart attack and Wilbue and Techno agreeing their stupid (while impressive) actions are gonna be bad influences on their sons. Wilbur calls it quits after they manage to drag Punz in, the mercenary dueling the two of them and trying to see whether strength or agility are better. Purpled is torn between cheering for either family member and just yells words of encouragement a lot.

For once in a long long time, they're safe.

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youngbugandtonystank · 4 years

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Hey ;) I know I'm going to sound too demanding but can you do a specific homecoming timeline of irondad events? The dates when things happened and how they happened? If you don't want to do it that's okay! Thank you so much for everything and I love you blog!

Sure, why not♥

Let’s make an irondad timeline from the beginning to Infinity War. Since the events after IW don’t exist for me, that’s where I’ll end the timeline :D

Chronologically;

-2008-

On August 20th, Toomes’ crew is formed as they start salvaging items to sell from wreckages and then they turn to the illegal black market in 2012. No one interferes with their business until Peter Parker does in 2016.

On November 25th, Tony Stark (age: 38) admits to the world he’s Iron Man. 7-year-old Peter Parker watches the news while (as stated by director Jon Watts) ‘eating a big bowl of cereal'.

-2010-

On May 7th, the opening day of the Stark Expo, 9-year-old Peter Parker waits in line to get an autograph from his hero; Tony Stark (age: 42). Tony gives him the autograph.

On May 31st, Justin Hammer’s Stark Expo presentation is hijacked by Ivan Vanko. 9-year-old Peter Parker (with an Iron Man mask and fake gauntlets) tries to ‘help’ by standing up to a big drone-robot. Tony saves his life and congratulates him for his bravery.

-2015-

Before June 2015 Tony was investigating Peter not for his powers, but because his intellect got his attention (this is only my speculation, I could be wrong) ‘Stark Industries announces new scholarships for promising students from urban city schools’ (June 2015). Peter said he’s had his powers for 6 months in Civil War (2016), meaning he got them in November/December, 2015. So the reason Tony could’ve been giving those scholarships in the first place, as speculated by many, may be because he was impressed with the kid’s intellect first (and then obviously found out he had powers) rather than his powers. Remember Tony deemed Peter worthy of going to MIT.

This also means Tony’s been waiting to meet Peter for about a year.

-2016-

On May 3rd, Peter stops a car from crashing into a bus before going to school. Tony keeps track of all of his activities. The same video Tony had on his phone (which he took from YouTube lmao):

Tony officially meets Peter Parker on May 23rd. Peter was 14 and Tony was 46. Tony’s birthday is on May 29, 1970 and Peter’s on August 10th, 2001.

On May 24th Peter arrives in Germany and the events of the airport battle unfold. Same day, while Tony goes to help Steve and Bucky in Siberia, Peter sneaks out from his hotel in Berlin to join a party in his Spider-Man suit.

On May 25th, after spending Friday and Saturday in Germany, Peter flies home with Tony. First in Tony’s jet where Peter asks for food and he’s given crackers, fish eggs and juice (lmao) and then they drive him home in his car in the early hours of the morning.

This is where the convo and ‘not-hug’ happens:

On May 26th, Peter is talking with May about the ‘field-trip’ and tries to cover up his identity by telling May he got into another fight (as referenced before in the novels, Peter gets into fights in school to protect Ned from bullies) and Tony helps Rhodey with his physical therapy (while Vision starts his escapes with Wanda):

On August 10th, Peter quits school band a few weeks before term starts (he sends Happy a text about this, telling him that he has more time for crime fighting and that he made a pretty big sacrifice there lmao). It is also his birthday. Tony listens and reads all of Peter’s messages thanks to Happy.

On September 1st, Peter returns to school after his summer holidays meaning the beginning of his sophomore year. He also texts Happy telling him he’s ready for his next mission and informing him that school ends at 2:45 PM. Tony sells the Avengers Tower and relocates fully to the New Avengers Facility in upstate New York.

On September 8th-9th, Tony flies to India to go to a Hindu temple. He did it to center myself, as a form of therapy.

On September 9th, they see each other again when Peter goes to Liz’s party but gets distracted by Toomes’ crew. Peter fights them and falls into the Hudson River. Tony saves him. Tony tells Peter to let other people handle Toomes and to stay close to the ground.

On September 13th, Peter decides to attend the decathlon team competition to go to Washington, D.C. As Peter is being monitored all the time by Tony, Happy calls him to ask why he’s leaving New York and then he lets him off. Peter removes the tracker lmao

On September 14th, Peter saves his friends from the Washington Monument incident. He appears on Fox news:

On September 19th-20th, Peter is given detention but he sneaks out lmao (rebel son). The next day Peter also skips school to find Toomes and his crew. Tony calls Peter to congratulate him for the Washington heroic act.

Peter goes on his own to fight Toomes’ crew. The ferry splits in half. Tony arrives and saves Peter and everyone else. Tony gives Peter the disappointed dad talk and takes the suit. He also buys Peter a Hello Kitty pajama set and takes him home.

Peter cries to May and tells her he wanted Tony to see his potential. He feels like he lost the Stark ‘Internship’ (his dad-son relationship with tony lmao).

On September 21st, Peter is all over again given detention and reluctantly resolves to not try to be Spider-Man for the time being.

On September 23rd, it’s Homecoming and moving (Avengers stuff to the new facility) day. Peter defeates Toomes and recovers the Avengers and Stark weaponry/equipment. He leaves a note for Happy to find.

On September 26th, Peter gets a text from Happy, telling him to meet him at his school’s bathroom. He tells him Tony wants to see him at the New Avengers Facility. When Parker arrives at the upstate facility, Stark greets him and praises him for his work.

Tony offers Peter an apartment at the facility. He also organized along with Pepper a room of press so Tony can step out and announce him as the newest member of the Avengers. Peter turns down the offer impressing his dad mentor. Tony and Pepper announce their engagement while Happy drives Peter home.

On September 27th, returning from school, Peter discovers that Tony gave him the suit back with a note saying the suit belongs to him. May finds out Peter’s secret.

After September, 2016 Peter is given a real internship at Stark Industries where he works and learns from Tony Stark himself.

Tony frames the picture.

- 2017-

Somewhere between this year, Peter updates the Stark-made web-shooters Tony made for him and learns how to manage Tony’s technology at the official Stark Internship.

Tony Stark along with Peter Parker create the organization Worldwide Engineering Brigade (or WEB headquarters). An organization where bright innovators and the world’s brightest young minds like Peter Parker invent new technologies and equip everyday people to become superheroes.

Tony Stark designs different types of Spider-man suits for Peter.

They also did missions together as hinted in the movies several times. In FFH, reporters and people around the world saw Spider-man as the ‘next Tony Stark’ and the ‘next Iron Man’, and asked him questions that hinted the same;

Sean: Sean Wilford, Queens Tribune. What is it like to take over from Tony Stark? Those are some big shoes to fill.

Woman: Are you the head Avenger? Are you the head Avenger now?

Fury: Stark chose you.

Peter: Tony did a lot for me, so... I owe it to him, to everybody.

Also, the coordination and the different dynamic demonstrated in Infinity War tells us that much.

-2018-

On May 30th, Pepper Potts and Tony Stark are out running in New York City and discuss their upcoming wedding. Tony starts dreaming and wanting a kid on his own thanks to his relationship with his son Peter Parker while Peter is in a bus ready to go to his field-trip to MoMa.

And then nothing happens :D everything’s ok.

I hope this is helpful for you guys. BTW, look:

Almost 20k fanfics for a platonic relationship. I feel really proud yall ♥

#tony stark #peter parker #irondad #spiderman #iron man #spiderson #marvel #mcu #pepper potts #happy hogan #avengers #infinity war #homecoming #civil war #endgame #disney #tom holland #robert downey jr #rdj

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 4 years

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Clouds - Shirakumo Oboro

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Rating: 16+ Words: 5,674 Pairing: Shirakumo Oboro/F!Reader Warnings: Nudity, sexual innuendo, kissing, Oboro has no shame honestly. No spoilers here, I just mention his friends and his quirk a little! AN: Here is my entry for this month’s BNHarem server collab! The theme was Fantasy, so have this Greek Mythology AU where I basically floundered through ancient Greek customs and got to think about EraserCloudMic being best friends and Demigods. I don’t promise that any of this is historically accurate but I did try to get some things right! It’s all in good fun anyway, I just needed some nice fluff and some time to play around with Oboro because I love him a lot. Listen to the song Clouds by Borns pls and thanks. As always, the masterlist to check out everyone else’s stuff is HERE. My masterlist is HERE.

Buy me a Ko-Fi HERE.

You’d never experienced a drought this severe before.

The weather had become so unbearably hot. Even your lightest tunic was too much, and you had resorted to wearing as little as possible when you were home, spending as much time as you could in the nearby river to keep cool.

However, the river seemed to be getting shallower, the lack of rain causing the water source to dry up.

The entirety of the small village that you resided on the outskirts of was in a panic. Crops were drying up, which was affecting people’s livelihood. The agora was nearly barren when you went in to sell the cloth you’d dyed and embroidered, the food stalls empty of the usual grain and barley you would typically find this time of year.

Most people had taken to making the trek past your house and down to the small temple there, praying to Zeus for rain, hoping that he would smile down upon you and bring good fortune, and maybe a storm cloud or two.

You knew that it was probably fruitless, but you decided that maybe you should leave an offering to appease him. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

Wanting to wait until it was cooler so you didn’t die of heatstroke while you leaned over the boiling water, you waited until the sun went down before you dug out your best fabric and dyed it a pretty blue color. You pricked your fingers with a needle more than once while embroidering the edges with clouds and raindrops, using white thread so it stood out against the cerulean fabric. A few days later, you deemed it ready, attaching pins so the person wearing it could fasten it and folding it gently. You slipped on your sandals and headed out with the garment draped over your arm.

It was late, so no one was around, but you weren’t afraid. The breeze was cold now that it was dark out, making you sigh as you listened to the leaves rustling in the olive trees that lined the path. You hoped Zeus would be pleased with what you’d made. Garments that you’d crafted and sold in the agora were always highly sought after and praised. The attention to detail and the small embroidery work you did on the fabric caused you to get lots of commissions from high-class women who lived in the city. It was something you were good at and took a lot of pride in, so you hoped that he would be impressed by your hard work.

When you arrived, you noticed there were a lot of offerings waiting just inside the door. You bowed your head and dropped to your knees in front of the statue within, closing your eyes as you placed the folded tunic at Zeus’ stone feet. “Please help us and send some rain. I made this tunic by hand. I hope you like the color. I chose it because it reminds me of the sky.” Whispering, you spoke aloud, feeling kind of silly, but willing to try anything to gain some relief from the sweltering heat.

Finishing the rest of your prayers in silence, you stood up and bowed, hurrying out of the small shrine and back up the path toward your home. When you laid down to sleep that night, you sent up one final prayer, hoping that things would get better when the morning came.

You woke up hours later to the sound of thunder. Sitting up in your bed, you felt tears well in your eyes, relief flooding through you. The rain was finally coming!

Briefly, you wondered if your gift had been the one that Zeus had deemed worthy enough to grant your village’s prayers. Swinging your feet off the bed, you dashed from the room, wrenching the front door open and running out into the night, bare feet slapping against the dirt as you made your way down the path towards the temple.

You didn’t know what you expected to find when you arrived. Would all the offerings be gone? Or would it be just as you left it hours before?

Dark clouds were rolling in overhead, and you laughed when you felt the first few drops of rain pelting on the bare skin of your arms as the temple came into view. You slowed to a stop, breathing heavily; the smell of petrichor in the air as water finally touched the dry grass and soil around you.

Stepping forward, you entered the temple, lingering in the doorway. Zeus’s proud statue stood in the center just as before, offerings still sitting untouched at his feet. They all remained, except for one.

The sky blue tunic you had crafted was missing.

It rained for three days straight, the constant onslaught of water on the parched ground, causing puddles to appear in every dip of the landscape around your home. You stayed inside, leaving the windows open to let in the fresh air, breathing deeply as your worries melted away. You were excited to visit the river, hoping the water would be rushing and kissing the edges of the riverbank as it always had before.

When the fourth day came with clear blue skies and a gentle breeze, you gathered up your towel and set off to the river. You skirted around the slowly drying puddles on the path, your sandals sinking into the soft earth as you made your way to your destination.

You arrived to see the river looked as you had expected, the water back up to its normal height, the current gentle, leaves floating along its surface. You looked around, making sure you were alone before you removed your tunic and laid it across a rock on the riverbank, before slipping into the cold, clear water. Most people from the village didn’t bother to come out here, so you weren’t too worried about being seen skinny dipping, but you always kept your ears open, just in case.

Time passed as you relaxed against the river’s edge, head tipping back to bask in the gentle sunlight filtering through the trees surrounding you. The weather was beautiful and was a welcome change compared to the unbearable sweltering days you’d been living the past few weeks.

A gentle splashing caught your attention, and your head snapped up, eyes scanning the water’s surface, assuming it was a fish. What you weren’t expecting to see was a man a little ways up the river, crouching down with his hand in the water, a serene smile on his face. You didn’t know if he saw you, but you suddenly felt self-conscious, dipping lower and crossing your arms across your chest to hide yourself. The plan had been to keep quiet and wait until he left. But then you saw what he was wearing.

The sky blue tunic was unmistakable.

“Where did you find that tunic?” You called accusingly. You had assumed that the tunic was missing because Zeus enjoyed your gift, and had given yourself credit for pleasing him enough to send the rain. To know that you hadn’t done anything at all, and a thief was the reason that your hard work was missing from the temple, was disheartening.

The man stood, his eyes searching for the source of your voice. When they landed on you, huddled against the side of the river, your head barely visible on the water, he smiled at you brightly. “It was an offering from the temple! Honestly, this is the nicest tunic I’ve had the pleasure of wearing.” He pulled on the bottom of it, pointing to the embroidered clouds. “The detail here is exquisite.”

Huffing, you frowned. “I know. I’m the one who made it.” His eyes lit up, and he opened his mouth to reply, but you interrupted him. “I don’t know who you think you are, but that tunic was made for Zeus. It’s extremely disrespectful to steal something from the gods. You must be crazy if you don’t think he’s going to strike you down with a lightning bolt the moment he finds out what you did.”

The man chuckled, raising his arms and folding them behind his head. You tried not to stare at his tan and muscular legs, or his equally muscular biceps. “You think I’m a thief? I’m offended, sweetheart.”

Blushing at the term of endearment, you shook your head. “Well, that’s the only logical explanation-“

“That’s where you’re wrong.” The man walked closer, and you shrunk back, trying to preserve your modesty. “It was a gift from Zeus himself.”

Your jaw dropped open, eyes wide. You weren’t sure how that was possible, but looking at the man before you now, you realized there was no way that he was mortal. He was too perfect.

Not to mention, his hair was like nothing you’d ever seen before.

It was a beautiful light blue, similar to the fabric draped around his body, fluffy and soft looking even from a distance, and it floated back and up, away from his head on its own.

“You’re a…” Trailing off, you got lost in the blue of his eyes as he stepped closer.

“Demigod.” He dropped his arms and shrugged. “My name’s Oboro.”

You were suddenly reminded of how very naked you were. “Could you, uh, turn around? So I can get dressed?”

Wiggling his eyebrows, Oboro smirked. “You sure? I mean, it’s nothing I’ve never seen before.”

“Ugh, please.” Annoyed, you glared at him. Demigod or not, what a perv.

“Kidding! I’m kidding!” Holding up his hands in defeat, he turned around, chuckling.

You took the opportunity to lift yourself out of the river and hurry over to where you’d left your clothes. You dried off quickly with your towel and wrapped your dress back around your frame.

When you were decent, you cleared your throat. “Thank you, Oboro.” You tugged at the fabric that was clinging to your semi-wet skin uncomfortably, watching as he turned back around and shot you a grin.

“So, you made this thing, huh?” Stepping closer, the man was suddenly towering over you, his smile charming. He reached out and plucked the towel you were still holding from your hand, bringing it up and over your head, his fingers rubbing your scalp as he dried your hair for you.

Speechless, you stuttered. What was he doing?

The towel lifted, and you watched as Oboro gathered your hair and squeezed out the water that was sitting at the ends of it. “That’s better. So, you going to answer me?’

Blinking up at him again in shock, you watched the laughter dancing in his clear blue eyes, the way his nose crinkled when he smiled, the white bandage across the bridge of it making him look boyish and handsome. You were swooning. You needed to get a hold of yourself. “I...yes. I made it myself. I make clothing to sell in the agora all the time.”

Nodding, he handed your towel back to you. “Zeus is a pretty busy guy, you know? He asked for my help, told me to check into some of his temples to see if anyone needed help. He said if it was something we could do, I could take care of it and help myself to anything left for an offering as a reward.”

“And you picked my tunic?” You felt a weight lift from your chest at his story.

Grinning, he pushed a piece of your hair off of your forehead. “It matches my eyes; how could I not?” He let his arm fall to his side. “I’m an altruistic guy. I like to help people, so I always jump at the chance when my father asks for my assistance. As soon as I saw that blue fabric, I knew I had to do something. I always say that handmade gifts are much better than jewels or gold because they come from the heart. So I called upon the Nephelae to come and bring some rain.”

You hummed, your face turning pink as you blushed. His innocent touching and compliments had your skin feeling warm. “Thank you, Oboro. I’m glad that it was well-received.” Clearing your throat, you glanced up at him through your lashes. “If you like it, I could make you another.”

“You’d do that?” He always seemed to be smiling, and you briefly hoped you’d never have to see him frown, knowing it would look out of place on his face. “I couldn’t ask-“

“I’m offering! I want to, honestly. You did so much for us with just that little bit of rain. I feel like that one tunic isn’t enough to show my gratitude.”

It was his turn to blush, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “Okay. Only if you want to.”

“Great!” You clapped your hands together. “Do you have anything you want specifically? I have lots of different fabric to choose from, and I can dye it any color you’d like.”

“Surprise me.” He winked, lifting his hand to poke the end of your nose playfully. “You know, when I saw that thing, I figured an old lady must have made it. Didn’t think a beautiful woman like you would have done it.”

Scoffing, you folded your arms across your chest. “Do you have no shame? Flirting with me, and you don’t even know my name.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “I like you, you’ve got guts. What’s your name then, sweetheart?”

“It’s Y/N.”

—

After Oboro left you at the edge of the river, promising to come back and see you in a few days, you went home and sifted through the piles of fabric you had collected, trying to find something that you thought would be fitting for the handsome Demigod.

The original tunic you’d made was linen, and since it was still early in the summer, you surmised that it would be best to stick with that fabric. Your other choices were wool or silk, and neither would do well in the hot weather.

You worked on dying the fabric a dark grey, the color of the sky before a storm. This time you embroidered the edges with golden bolts of lightning and white stars. You were very proud of it when it was finished, thinking it looked as lovely, if not better, than the one you’d left in the temple.

A few days later, you were outside tending to your garden when you heard footsteps approaching behind you.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

The timbre of his voice made you shiver as you stood and turned to meet him. “Morning, Oboro! You’re here just in time!”

“Finished already?” His eyebrow raised. “Did you even sleep?”

Rolling your eyes, you smiled at him. “Of course! I slept some.”

Shaking his head, he stepped towards you, ruffling the hair on your head. “Don’t lose sleep on my account, okay? I can wait as long as I have to.”

You wished this man would stop making you blush so much. “Okay, fine. It won’t happen again. Would you like some wine?”

“Why would I say no to that?” He chuckled, following you into your small home, sitting at the table when you pointed to the chair, watching as you flitted around the kitchen preparing his drink.

“What have you been up to? Helping out your father?” You asked conversationally, setting the glass down in front of him.

Humming, he picked up the glass and took a sip. “A little. I spent some time with my friends mostly. I don’t get to see them too often since they’re always so busy.”

“Oh? Are your friends Demigods too?”

He hummed, sipping his wine again. “Shouta is the son of Hypnos, god of sleep. Hizashi is the son of Apollo, god of music.”

“Wow. I’ve never met anyone important like that. Well, besides you.”

He snorted. “We’re not important, our fathers are. We’re just regular people.”

“Except you’re half god and incredibly handsome.” Huffing, you blushed, realizing what you said.

“You think I’m handsome?” His cheeky grin was too much to look at, so you turned away.

Changing the subject seemed like the best option for your sanity. “Let me show you what I made for you.”

He didn’t push it, which surprised you, but also made you feel grateful. You didn’t want to think about the man any more than you already had been. He was funny and kind and gorgeous, but he was also a flirt and a Demigod, and you really didn’t know what to make of all of that. You realized that some people might think the way you acted with him was disrespectful, but he was just a person like he’d pointed out. Mostly.

You walked over to your work table and unfolded the tunic, turning around and holding it out towards him. “I was trying to keep with the sky theme. What do you think?”

Oboro stood up from the table, leaving his wine glass behind. He stared at the fabric, taking it into his hands, his fingers tracing the embroidery. When he looked up at you, his face was filled with wonder. “Are you sure you’re not magic?”

You blinked at him. “What? Why?”

“This is amazing, Y/N. Truly. Thank you.” Grinning, he handed it back to you, his hands moving to the pins keeping his tunic fastened around his body.

“Oboro, what are you doing?”

The pins opening let the fabric around him fall free. “Trying it on.”

You covered your eyes with your hand as he pulled the garment off his body, resisting the urge to peek through your fingers when you caught a glimpse of his chiseled abs and the swell of his pectorals as you heard his clothing fall to the floor. He took the tunic from your hand, taking his time pinning the fabric at his shoulders and under his arms.

“How do I look?”

Removing your hand away from your red face, you moved forward, redoing the pin at his shoulder to sit straight. Stepping back, you walked around him. “It’s missing something.”

He looked at you curiously, his brow furrowed. “What?”

You looked puzzled, finger tapping your chin before your face suddenly brightened in recognition. “I’ve got it!” You scurried away to your work area, coming back with a golden colored braided cord.

Oboro watched as you reached around him, passing the rope between your hands. He lifted his arms as you tied it around his waist, cinching the fabric a bit and moving back to look over him again. “Perfect.”

His arms dropped, his head tilted down as he looked over the fabric again. Teeth pressed against his bottom lip, he looked up at you. “Another masterpiece, Y/N. I’m going to look better than all the gods in Olympus when I visit my father later.”

You shook your head, laughing. “Oh please, I’m not that great, Oboro.”

He huffed, stepping forward and surprising you when he wrapped his arms around you in a hug. “Just accept the compliment, would you?”

Hesitantly, your arms moved around him to return the gesture, your voice horse as you replied. “Okay.”

—

Oboro became a permanent fixture in your life after that. He appeared nearly every day, treating you to picnics and taking you for walks through the forests and down to the river. You looked forward to seeing him, his face the last thing you thought of before you fell asleep, and the first thing you imagined when you woke up. You were in too deep.

It rained more often, but it was welcome after the hell of drought you’d been through earlier that month. The weather didn’t stop Oboro from visiting, his strong arms dragging you out into the storm so you could watch the dark clouds above roll past. He made you laugh, his bright smile infectious as he carved himself a place in your heart.

You didn’t know what this was. Did he like you more than just a friend? He was a flirt, but you assumed he was like that with everyone. You weren’t sure if you should read into it any deeper, but there was a big part of you that wanted him to want you just as much as you found yourself wanting him.

He was gentle and kind, going out of his way to help the people in the village when he visited, hefting large bags of grain in the agora. He never hesitated or asked for anything in return, and it made your heart flutter. The old ladies would stop you to tell you how wonderful he was, that he was a keeper, and whenever you tried to open your mouth and correct them, he would grin over at you and wink, and you’d lose the ability to speak.

When he showed you the power bestowed upon him by his father, you couldn’t help but giggle. He waved his hands around, creating a cloud out of the air’s moisture and pushed it towards you. “They can’t do much but float around, but if I make one big enough, I can sit on it and ride it where I need to go.”

“You aren’t able to make them do anything else?” You poked at the cloud, watching as it broke apart and drifted away.

“No, but they’re fun to look at.” He made another one shaped like a bird. “What do you think?”

“I think they look like your hair.” You teased, watching it float up above your heads.

He starting making another one, bigger than the ones before. “Come on.” He brought it down low, sitting on it and crossing his legs underneath him. “Want to go for a ride?”

You shook your head, frightened at the thought. “No way, that’s too scary.”

“Come on!” He held out his hand. “I can show you the world this way.”

His smile was disarming, and you felt yourself stepping forward before you knew it. “You better not let me fall.”

“I won’t, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked, kicking his feet in the water.

You were sitting side by side on the riverbank, leaning back and basking in the afternoon sun. “Mm, probably this?” You opened one eye and looked over at him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “My father wants to meet you.”

You sat up so fast you almost flung yourself into the river, Oboro’s hand grabbing onto your arm the only reason you didn’t fall in. “Excuse me?”

Snorting, he let go of you and rested his palms on the grass beside him again. “He wants to meet the woman who made the outfit I wore to dinner a few weeks ago. Remember, I said I was going to show up everyone in Olympus?”

Nodding, you shut your jaw, which had been hanging open since he’d told you his father, also known as Zeus, the god of the sky and thunder, the king of the gods, wanted to meet /you/.

“Well, Aphrodite commented on it, and then father asked who made it, so I told him about you. Will you come?”

You swallowed thickly, trying to find your voice. How could you say no? Could you refuse to meet Zeus if he asked you to? “I…”

His arm moved around your shoulder, pulling your closer. “Don’t be nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous? Are you kidding me? I know he’s your father, but to me, he’s a god.” You sputtered, feeling yourself shake at the thought of being face to face with him.

“Well, I mean, I’m half-god, and you’re not nervous around me.”

You decided not to point out that he made you incredibly nervous. You were just good at hiding it. You pressed on instead. “What do I even say to him? What do I even wear?”

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back. “What do you wear? Clothes would be a start, Y/N.”

“I hate you, have I mentioned that before?”

You barely slept that night, your thoughts racing as you went over scenarios in your head, trying to imagine what it was going to be like when you were face to face with the king of the gods. For some reason, you were worried that he wouldn’t like you. You weren’t sure why it mattered so much to you. You tried to push the little voice in the back of your head away when it started pointing out how you were probably worried because of how you felt about Oboro.

It was ridiculous to fight it anymore. You knew you liked him. You weren’t sure what to do with that information, but there it was. And now you were going to meet his father.

Oboro came to get you after breakfast, his cheerful smile falling when he saw your face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

You laughed. “I haven’t.” Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you sighed. “I’m just worried I’m going to make a fool of myself.”

Shaking his head, Oboro pulled you into a hug. “You’re not going to make a fool of yourself. You’re going to be fine. He’s not as scary as you seem to think. Plus, I’ll be right there with you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Letting yourself melt into him, you buried your face into his chest. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m probably just making things worse.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine.” You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, his chin leaning on the top of your head before he pulled away. “Come on, let’s go. He’s going to meet us at the temple.”

“Do I look alright?” You stepped back from him and looked down at the dress you’d made; the fabric dyed a deep burgundy.

Oboro didn’t say anything at first, making you doubt yourself, your head falling forward to gaze at the sandals on your feet.

“No, you don’t look alright.” He said finally.

Eyebrows furrowed, your head snapped up to look at him. “What?”

He was grinning widely at you, holding out his hand to take yours. “You look beautiful.”

Your entire face felt like it was on fire when you realized what he said, your expression melting into a small smile. He wrapped his hand around yours and tugged you towards the door, his eyes crinkled merrily, trying not to laugh at his trick. He was such a lousy flirt, but his compliment made you feel better, even if you didn’t think he meant it.

Zeus was waiting inside the temple when you arrived, gazing up at the statue of himself with his hands folded behind him. “Sometimes, these things don’t look anything like me, but I’d say this is a pretty accurate one, don’t you think?”

When he turned around to face you, you had to agree. The statue looked just like him. “Y-yes, sir.” Bowing your head, you brought your hands in front of you and pressed them together. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Zeus laughed, stepping forward. “You don’t have to do that, though I appreciate it.” You looked up at him, meeting blue eyes the same color as his son’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard so many things about you. Oboro talks of you often.” He took one of your hands in his and kissed the back of it, his gaze moving to the man beside you. “You weren’t kidding when you told me she was beautiful, son.”

Your cheeks turned pink as you turned to look at Oboro, his face tinted red with embarrassment. “Father, please.”

“Please what? She’s beautiful and talented as well.” He turned back to you. “Oboro’s tunic was all anyone could talk about at dinner a few weeks ago. Aphrodite was impressed, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish.”

“Thank you, Zeus. I’m humbled. I never thought what I did was anything extraordinary.”

“Nonsense! Quality work like that should be appreciated.” You heard Oboro telling you to accept a compliment in the back of your head, so you just smiled and nodded. ”Oboro showed me the blue tunic you made as well, and I would like to ask a favor of you.”

“Anything, sir.” You felt your heartbeat quicken in anticipation, relaxing minutely when you felt Oboro place his hand on your shoulder and squeeze.

“I would like for you to make something for me. I know that the first tunic was originally an offering for me, but I think it better suits Oboro. I can give you whatever materials you desire. Color and pattern don’t matter to me; I just want something like what you’ve done for my son. Do you think you could do that?”

Your mouth worked without a sound coming out, your brain trying to process what was happening. Zeus wanted you to make clothing for him. “Yes, of course! I would be happy to.”

“Wonderful.” Zeus clapped his hands together and smiled kindly at you. “You’ll be paid for your work, of course. Anything you need, you let my son know, and he’ll get it for you.” He turned to the man beside you, a severe look on his face. “Don’t be a fool, Oboro.”

“Father, what do you-”

“You know what I mean. Have some courage.” He put a hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed before turning and nodding back at you. “I hope we meet again soon, Y/N.”

Before you could say goodbye, a clap of thunder sounded in the temple, causing the ground to shake slightly, and he was gone.

You weren’t sure how you made it back to your house, your thoughts elsewhere as you tried to imagine what you could make for Zeus that would impress him.

Oboro was uncharacteristically quiet beside you on the entire walk, his mind obviously elsewhere as well.

“You okay?” You asked him, cocking your head to the side as he stood in the doorway to your home, his shoulder resting on the frame.

He nodded, smiling at you. “Never better.”

Not believing him for a second, you pressed on. “Did your father say something that’s bothering you?” He looked away, his eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t have to tell me, you know. I’m just worried about you.”

His eyes met yours again. “You’re worried about me?”

“You always have a smile on your face, no matter what, so seeing you without one is a little worrisome.” You stepped towards him, craning your head back to look up into his eyes. “You can talk to me if you want. I won’t judge you too hard, I promise.”

Oboro huffed a laugh through his nose. “You’re funny.” His fingers traced along your jaw as he stood up straight, gazing down at you. “You want to know what he was talking about?”

Nodding, you swallowed thickly, feeling the mood in the room shift, the tension between the two of you was palpable.

“He was telling me not to be a fool about you.”

Blinking, you tried to focus on the feeling on his fingers on your face, moving down to your neck. “About me?”

Humming, his thumb brushed across your chin, moving up to tug on your bottom lip. “He knows how much I like you. He just doesn’t want me to miss my opportunity.”

Eyes wide, you stared at him, not sure what to say, more content to watch him and see what he would do next.

“Ever since I saw you at the river that day, your face is all I can think about when I’m not with you. Spending time with you is all I want to do. I would be content to sit there and drink wine and watch you sew all day, just because I get to be with you.” He chuckled under his breath. “Shouta and Hizashi are tired of me going on about it. Well, Shouta is always tired, so that’s nothing new.” He pushed your hair behind your ear with his other hand. “They all just wanted me to tell you how I feel.”

You closed your eyes briefly, breathing in deeply. You let your hands rest on his chest, smoothing the fabric of his clothes beneath your fingers. “I like you too, Oboro. A lot.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping in pitch and volume when he spoke. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You felt his breath on your face, and you closed your eyes again when his lips met yours. Letting yourself melt against him, your hands slid up and over his shoulders. He kept his warm palm against your neck, his other hand moving to your waist to pull your body flush against him. He smelled like petrichor and sunshine, and though you were used to the smell because of all the time you spent with him, somehow it was different when he was kissing you, making your knees weak and your heart pound against your ribcage like it was trying to break free. You sighed when you felt his tongue press against your lips, your mouth opening to deepen the kiss, inhaling through your nose, not wanting to let the moment end.

When it did, your chest was heaving as you sucked in air, but you were still pressed against him, your fingers toying with the hair by the nape of his neck.

He looked down at you, his eyes bright and his lips twisted into a smile. “You okay?”

“Better than okay.” You were still out of breath, but you returned his bright smile.

“Good.” He leaned down to kiss you again, but this time the kiss was chaste and left you chasing his mouth for more. He chuckled. “Come on, let’s have some lunch, and then I think you should take a well-deserved nap. I know you’re exhausted.”

Humming in agreement, you took a step back, your hand moving to cup his cheek. “Alright. You’re going to stay, right?”

His smile got impossibly bigger. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”

#shirakumo oboro #shirakumo oboro x reader #oboro shirakumo #oboro shirakumo x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnharem collab #kingexpl0sionmurder writes #shirakumo oboro fluff

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theladyragnell · 4 years

Note

(Feel free to only do one of mine - I just had two that immediately jumped into my head LOL) Leverage OT3 - Raised Roots verse AU "Farmer's Market"

Alec Hardison is playing the long game.

He's good with people—being good with people is in fact kind of his job, even if most people are confused that his charms tend to be run as phone apps and computer programs. It gets a lot of people asking if he isn't actually a wizard, which is some kind of offensive, like they think witches can't move with the times.

But the point is that he's a witch, so he gets people, and he gets that he can't just walk up to Parker and ask her out. She would absolutely just take off running, and he is invested in making that not happen. So instead, he snagged the spot next to hers at the farmer's market, and now he's being her friend. Which is great, obviously, he wouldn't want to date her if he didn't think she was cool, it's just that doing it makes him worry if he's being creepy while trying not to be creepy. It's a whole thing.

The other whole thing is the other person in town who is hotter than he has any reason to be and will one hundred percent murder Hardison if he tries to woo him, who is currently standing in front of Hardison's farmer's market booth with a scowl on his face. “Eliot! Hey! How's the ranch?” he says in a totally cool and not at all squeaky tone of voice.

“I think I need a witch,” says Eliot. Growls Eliot, more like, he is more terrifying than anybody's got the right to be. Hardison should probably call Sophie and cry about why he's only attracted to people who could kick his ass, but then she might come to visit and that sounds even more horrifying.

“Sure, man, what kind of charm do you need?”

That's kind of interesting, because Hardison is pretty sure that Eliot doesn't trust witches in the way that people with really shitty pasts who don't like talking about them tend to. Parker's like that too—she likes knowing about his charms, but only if he promises that they've got nothing to do with her. This time, Eliot rolls his eyes in that way he's got like he's rolling his whole head. “I didn't say I need a charm. I said I need a witch.”

Hardison rolls his eyes right back. Two can play at that game. “So what kind of witching do you need? I can stop by once the market's closed down.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can tell Parker is watching. She likes knowing all the gossip, and she is definitely ignoring the people who are trying to buy rhubarb.

“I've got a unicorn.”

He says it like he's got some kind of terrible infectious disease, which is why it takes Hardison a second to realize he's talking about one of the most magical possible things anyone within fifty miles of here has seen or heard of in the past fifty years. “A unicorn? Man, a unicorn? You get all the luck! Hell yeah I'm coming over, do you need to welcome it to the herd or something?”

Eliot makes one of his growly noises. “I want to know why it's here.”

“Clearly you've been deemed worthy or something!” Hardison starts packing up his booth. If there's a unicorn, nobody's going to blame him. “Give me five minutes, and I'll be right with you.”

“I'm coming too,” says Parker, giving up on pretending she isn't eavesdropping, and stares at the rhubarb people until they put it back and walk away before starting to shove produce in boxes.

Hardison looks at Eliot, expecting him to start yelling, but he just kind of sighs and nods like he's not surprised and goes to help her put her stuff away. “I drove into town, you guys can come with me, but we should be fast, who knows how long that thing will stick around.”

“Hey, 'that thing' has decided that you're worthy or some shit, man, I'm pretty sure it will stay,” says Hardison, but he puts things away and grins at the people who are outright staring at the three of them, many of them probably wondering if they can get away with inviting themselves along like Parker did.

But none of them do, and within ten minutes the three of them are stuffed into Eliot's truck, Parker's vegetables and Hardison's supplies strapped down in the back, heading out to the pegasus ranch where few people ever get invited.

Most times when Hardison drives by, there are some of the herd up in the air, high enough for him to see over the line of trees Eliot maintains for privacy. Today, there are none, and when they drive in, all of them are on the ground, and they're surrounding another four-legged creature more the size of a deer than a horse, bright white, with a big horn sticking out of its head. Hardison likes to play it cool, but he's got to admit it's the most magical goddamn sight he's ever seen as he stumbles his way out of the car and makes full-on eye contact with it. It seems pretty chill, for a wild animal.

Within a few seconds, Parker and Eliot have come up on either side of him like they think he's got any idea what to do here, and they're all staring at the unicorn.

“This is a pretty good first date,” says Parker, like that's a totally normal thing to say.

Hardison opens his mouth to say that nobody asked anybody else, but Eliot isn't growling, just looking kind of uncomfortably at the ground, and if this is how the long game pays off, he does not understand it, but he'll take it. “Hell yeah,” he says instead of anything else. “Now let's introduce ourselves to a unicorn.”

#sometimes i write stories #hiddencait #answered asks

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sevenstarsinning · 4 years

Text

Invasion Ch. 6

Description: A planet conquering race of Saiyans invaded Earth and deemed it worthy of habitation. After bringing the humans to their heels, they set up a new society where humans had one role, to serve. You found yourself in the unlucky faction of being bought and sold as a human pet. With absolutely no interest in owning a human but no way out of having one, Kakarot made a bid on you at the urging of his brother. It was only a matter of time before you were either killed or forced into obedience.

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5

Warning: Smut, simultaneous orgasms? Not exactly mutual masturbation, but close.

___________________________________________________________

The first urge you had the next morning was to run to Bulma and tell her about the mini-make-out session you had with Kakarot, but you weren’t sure how Vegeta would react to seeing you again so soon so you decided to give it a day or two. Your dreams were filled with the soft moment after dinner and how perfectly he felt against you, touching you. Even after you woke up, you still couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t just the kiss, but finally feeling like you weren’t completely invisible, that your presence was noticed and wanted. The full heaviness of your future was still there, but you were actively trying to avoid thinking about it, which is where cooking came into play. Cooking was always your escape before the invasion, it only made sense to use it now and you knew Kakarot wouldn’t exactly complain if you went all out cooking a huge breakfast. You barely finished cooking everything before he came shuffling out of his room, bare chested, stretching and sniffing the air.

“Smells good.” He said groggily, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Thought you might be hungry since you didn’t eat much last night.” Just mentioning the night before made your cheeks flush at the memory.

“Starving.” He took his seat at the table while you fixed his plate.

When you placed his plate in front of him his tail wrapped around your wrist again, but this time it didn’t seem like much of a surprise to him.

“Does it still have a mind of its own?” You asked, softly running your fingers along his tail.

“Sometimes.” His tail tightened around your wrist.

“Well,” you uncoiled his tail from your arm, “tell it you need to eat and to stop distracting you.”

He smiled slightly, “not sure it listens to me that well.”

Kakarot wasn’t lying when he said he was starving. He basically inhaled everything on his plate and then asked if there was more food. You’d never seen someone eat so much so quickly without getting sick. It was mesmerizing to watch him scarf down every bit of food you’d made, except for what was on your plate, which he was eyeballing too. You smiled inwardly at the thought of spending mornings with him like this, but then the realization hit you, these mornings were finite.

“What happens next?” You asked, letting thoughts of the trial slip through.

“Lunch?” He looked up at you.

“No, I mean with the trial and everything. What do you do until then?”

He finished his food and began licking his plate, “Well, I’m not allowed to go on missions, and I can’t buy anymore humans. A lot of stuff is off limits to a saiyan awaiting a trial.”

“Oh, that’s a shame, I know how much you love purchasing us.” You teased but the realization stung a little when you remembered you were technically property.

“So, I basically just sit and wait.” He sat his plate down.

It seemed like a bad idea to just sit and wait for your death sentence, “doesn’t that get boring? The anticipation alone would be unbearable.”

“I can still train and spar, which is what I usually do anyways between missions.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal to him.

“I’ll go insane just sitting- wait, am I going to be involved in the trial?” You grabbed your plate and his, taking them to the sink.

“Not that I know of. What happened has nothing to do with you.”

You leaned back against the counter, chewing on the questions you had, “can I ask why there’s a trial in the first place?”

Kakarot looked up at you instantly, “why? It doesn’t impact you what the reason is.”

“I’m just curious. Plus, if I am forced into it somehow, it would be helpful to know exactly what happened.”

He appeared to be considering your request, it wasn’t like you were asking for specific details. He still seemed hesitant about sharing anything about his mission with you, which made you feel even more curious about what really went on.

“I’ll give you the main parts, but that’s it. Just enough so you know what happened.” He pushed his chair back as you remained by the counter.

“We landed on the planet, no issues. The inhabitants were obviously not happy about being conquered, which is why we were sent in the first place. The previous barrage of saiyans had failed to bring them to heel. Things got messy and I barely made it out.” He kept his gaze on you as he spoke.

“What does ‘messy’ mean?” You pressed.

“Things didn’t go as planned.” He explained poorly.

You thought about it for a moment, but it still didn’t feel right, “does the prince know what happened? What actually happened?” You knew you shouldn’t have called him out like that, especially when he was talking fairly openly.

“He’s the one who assigned the real mission.”

That was everything you were going to get from him, but it opened the door to so many more questions. Pushing for anything else would have been pointless, at least with him anyways. You had to get to Bulma, she would know more.

As you were thinking about everything he’d just laid out for you, he stood up and made his way towards you, placing his finger beneath your chin and tilting it up for you to meet his gaze.

“Don’t speak of this to anyone, understand?”

“O-Okay.” Having him that close again was a little distracting, as was his tail that crept up your leg.

“No, I need you to say it. You can’t utter a word of this or that we’ve even discussed it. It’s not only my life on the line at this point.” His gaze was intense as he held you there until you agreed.

“I understand. I won’t say a word.” You nodded your head as much as you could.

You assumed he’d release you after that, but he didn’t. He kept his hand beneath your chin as his eyes flitted from yours to your lips. The pull to him was almost overwhelming, even when you were convinced you needed to fight it. You could tell he was struggling as well, wanting to give in, teetering on the edge of right and wrong, it brought you some comfort knowing you weren’t alone in turmoil. The hand that wasn’t being restrained by his tail, reached up to caress his cheek, but his hand snapped over your wrist the second your fingertips brushed his skin.

“I’m not going to breed you.” His voice was low.

You were confused as to where that came from and how it was related, “um, I didn’t-“

“I can smell your arousal. We aren’t mating.” He stated as facts.

“We don’t have to mate to feel a little less alone.” Using his word was weird, you wanted to just say ‘sex’ or ‘fuck’, but you wanted it clear to him that you were not into being an incubation pod for his offspring.

Kakarot’s lips crashed into yours immediately. He pressed your back against the counter, his tail tightening around your arm as he poured his frustrations into the kiss. You used your free hand to thread your fingers through his hair, digging them into the back of his neck lightly. You set a slow rhythm of petting his tail, letting your fingers run along the soft fur until he let out low growls against your lips.

“Stop.” He said through gritted teeth as if he was barely hanging on by a thread.

“Sorry.” You halted your ministrations and returned to kissing him.

His arms wrapped around you, hugging you to his bare chest and inhaling sharply at the pain from his still healing wounds. He didn’t seem to mind the feeling as he made no move to push you away or stop you from being pressed against them. His kiss was heated and filled with need, but what kind of need you couldn’t be sure. You wanted to feel close, to feel something with another person, even though it was with an alien who purchased you. Bulma’s advice continued to run through your mind, to go with it because your old norms and expectations don’t make sense in the new order of things.

Over the next few days, you spent most of your time with Kakarot. Either cooking or making out. It was a simple life, but easy. There were no angry, jealous saiyans trying to kill you, no wrathful prince’s threatening your life, it was just the two of you guarded in your momentary bliss without distraction or interference. Ignoring every other responsibility either of you had. It was different seeing this side of him, no longer hindered by the obsession with keeping his distance from you or pushing you away.

Kakarot pulled back from your lips as you straddled his lap on the couch, “I need a shower and you need to start on dinner.”

“Shit, you’re right.” You’d completely forgotten about dinner. You moved to climb out of his lap, but he pulled you back into another kiss.

“We can continue this after though.” He spoke against your lips.

“Sounds good.” You smiled slightly.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy having the softness from another’s touch, but there was only so much that kissing could do for you after a while. It wasn’t exactly a secret how much he was affected by it as well, especially when he had you in his lap or pressed up against a wall. Your mind stayed clouded and running between wanting to beg him to fuck you and not wanting to mate with an alien. Plus, it wasn’t like you had a lot of time together so maybe it was best not to complicate things? But the need was there for you both. You let out a frustrated sigh as you headed towards the kitchen and he headed towards his bedroom to grab his clothes. You rummaged through the fridge and cabinets, trying to figure out what you wanted to cook for dinner, but then it dawned on you, it wasn’t really your choice.

You made your way towards his room but paused when you heard a soft groan coming from it. His door was cracked just enough for you to peer in to see him. Your cheeks flushed at the sight of him, his pants pulled down just enough for his impressive cock to slip free and his hand wrapped around it. He leaned forward with his free hand against the wall as he stroked himself. You wanted to turn away, go back to the kitchen, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. Short, breathy groans escaped his lips, his cheeks almost as flush as yours as he worked himself closer to his release. The longer you watched him, the more you could feel your own arousal building and the wetness pooling between your thighs.

The second you heard your name on his lips, you were done. You slipped your hand down between your thighs, needing that same release he seemed to be chasing. It didn’t take you long to get to the same place he was, your fingers moving quicker just as his hand did. You closed your free hand over your mouth to keep the moans from slipping out as you felt your orgasm nearing. His hand slowed for a moment, stroking his thick cock just right until he let out a low growl and came into his hand. You leaned back against the wall and rode out your own release, coming on your fingers quietly. You heard him shuffling around the room and made a quick dash towards the kitchen before he exited his room.

You barely made it to the kitchen sink by the time he stepped through the doorway, “I forgot to ask what we’re having for dinner.”

“Um, I… I haven’t decided yet. Any requests?” You turned around to see him standing there with the same relieved gaze you probably held, but he seemed to be regarding you a little differently.

“No preference...” he looked you up and down, sniffing the air slightly, “just make a lot of it, I’m starving.” He left the room without another word, leaving you to lean back against the counter and chastise yourself for what had just happened.

Finishing dinner was a challenge. Your thoughts were racing at everything that had taken place over the last few days and especially the last few minutes. You felt ashamed of yourself, that you’d let your urges take over and the fact that you spied on him didn’t help you.

“Dinner ready?” he asked, startling you and making you jump suddenly.

Your heart raced as you turned around to see him waltzing into the kitchen, basically naked except for the pair of briefs that hung way too low on his hips. He was still drying his hair with a towel as he took his seat at the table. You were fighting to pick your jaw up off the floor and focus on serving him dinner instead of yourself on a silver platter.

“Yep, we’re having chili.” You placed a bowl in front of him.

“Are you not eating?” He asked when you didn’t immediately grab a bowl for yourself.

You shook your head, “not right now, I’m not really hungry.”

“Is it because of what you did earlier?” He asked bluntly, almost making you pass out from sheer shock.

“Um, what I-I did?” You feigned innocence, hoping it was something entirely different on his mind.

“I could smell you, I know you must have touched yourself. Is it normal for humans to lose their appetite after that?” He had zero shame about asking you about your orgasm.

“I-um, it’s not something that happens often… and I’m sorry for doing that, it was wrong of me to-“

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? I don’t care if you make yourself come, just maybe do it in your room next time instead of the kitchen.” He shrugged and started to eat his food.

“Wait, in the- oh, okay. Yeah, definitely. I’ll be more careful next time. Not that there will be a next time, I’m just-“ You stumbled over your words as you realized he didn’t know you’d seen him.

“It’s just a little distracting being able to smell you.” He said between bites.

“Distracting? How? Like in a bad way?” The more you learned about him the more confused you were.

“Just smells good. It makes it hard to think about anything else.” He stopped eating and stared up at you.

His tail wrapped around your leg and pulled you closer, no longer a surprising action that made you tense, but a soft one that made you relax. Kakarot looked up at you while his hand skimmed the waistband of your pants. He inhaled sharply and it sent a shudder through him as his pupils went wide.

“Very distracting.” He leaned closer and you couldn’t help the hopeful look in your eyes that he might do more.

He opened his mouth to say something else but a knock on the door made you both tense up and immediately pull away from one another. You’d only known of one person to come visit and you weren’t exactly thrilled at the possibility of him appearing at that moment. Kakarot glanced at you before heading to the door. You followed him but remained around the corner of the hallway, curious but staying hidden.

“What took you so long?” A small saiyan woman asked as soon as he opened the door.

“I wasn’t expecting you this soon.” He looked like he was completely surprised by her as she wrapped her arms around him.

“We came early, we thought it would be nice to spend some extra time with you.” She pulled away.

“We?”

“Your mother was insistent.” A saiyan who looked almost identical to Kakarot stepped inside.

You shifted in place, making the floor creak and the group of them look directly at you. You’d never wanted the ability to disappear so badly in your life.

“Who is that?” The female saiyan asked and looked up at Kakarot and back to you.

“That’s um, she’s my human.” He sounded almost ashamed of you.

“Hi there, I’m Gine, Kakarot’s mother, and this is Bardock, his father.” She wasted no time in making a direct line towards you as you looked over to Kakarot.

“A human, Kakarot? Your brother was supposed to take care of you here, not pull you into his shameful activities.” Bardock kept his voice low, but you could still hear him clearly.

“He was convinced it would be a good thing. She’s at least useful for cooking and cleaning.” He was torn between looking at you and at his father.

“You can cook? That’s great, saiyans have an insatiable appetite, but I’m sure you know that, don’t you dear?” She looked at you curiously.

“Y-Yes, he eats like he has a bottomless pit in his stomach.” You offered a slight smile even though you were fully panicked on the inside.

You knew Kakarot and you knew Raditz, they both came from Bardock and Gine, the question remained about which one Raditz got his pleasantness from and you were thinking it was probably Bardock with the way he glared at you.

“Have you seen Raditz yet?” Kakarot asked, changing the subject from you.

“Not yet, we planned on going there after we visited with you for a while.” Gine answered, still seeming to be curious about you.

“I just finished dinner, there’s plenty for all of you.” You offered, hoping food would smooth things over.

“Great, Bardock was just saying how hungry he was on the way over.” She walked past you towards the kitchen.

Bardock followed suit, glancing in your direction as he passed, but not saying a word. Kakarot pulled you into the living room quickly, “I didn’t know they were coming this soon. Just stay out of sight for the most part.”

“Of course, just let me know if you need anything.” You nodded and watched as he headed out of the room.

Catering to one saiyan was difficult enough, and even then you were just starting to get used to one another. Now there were three of them and one clearly didn’t like your presence. You slunk into your room quietly and closed the door behind you as they ate and caught up. All of the tenseness and unease you’d felt in the beginning was starting to flood back in and you wondered if them being there would alter your relationship with Kakarot.

#lynn #invasion fic #kakarot #kakarot x reader #bardock #gine #dragon ball #dragon ball z #dragon ball super #dragon ball fanfiction

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radiojamming · 4 years

Note

This a weird prompt but would you write jonmichael? Asking solely because I want to read Elias and the archives staff dealing with that

good-ish AU where sasha’s still sasha and everyone’s cool with stuff, i guess? :DDD

- - -

The door-that-wasn’t-there-a-minute-ago slams open against the wall, shaking the shelves and knocking one cheap vase to the floor in a small explosion of sad porcelain shards and accumulated dust. Martin lets out a high-pitched, “Jesus Christ!” in surprise as much as raw shock when Jon Sims himself staggers out the door like a teenager doing the walk of shame. Granted, he’s bleeding from his hairline and one sleeve of his sweater appears to just be missing, but he looks more sheepish than injured.

Just as he makes the last step over the threshold-that-shouldn’t-be, Martin sees a vague person-ish shape wobble in the mysterious beyond. And it is, in fact, wobbling, like a bobblehead or one of those playground toys shaped like horses that waver on oversized springs until they fling some unfortunate child headfirst into sand. Extended metaphor it may be, but the wobbly thing gives a high, wavering giggle before cooing, “Don’t forget this, love!” in a voice tiered in multiple pitches like an eldritch wedding cake. Jon turns just in time for an arm-that-shouldn’t-be-that-long-oh-my-god-what-the-fuck to come shooting out of the door, an iPhone clutched pinched between its enormous fingers. Martin might be hallucinating, but he thinks the razor-sharp fingernails are lacquered in sparkly purple nail varnish.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before Jon gingerly takes the phone with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and the hand recedes back into the hellish landscape beyond the door.

“Of course!” garbles the wobbly thing. Then, with a range of voices topped off with an impressive soprano flourish as light as meringue, it yodels, “Call me!”

As abruptly and shockingly as the door appeared, it disappears with a sharp crack, causing the shelves to slam back into place with a small cataract of old books falling into the pile of broken ceramic.

Jon and Martin stand in the stuffy office, each caught in the awkward position of how the hell do you talk about that?

Finally, Jon gives Martin the most soul-deep, weary look before quietly beseeching, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

All Martin can do is nod before Jon shuffles out to the hallway

- - -

Sasha sees him at the flower stall again.

Through the warped windowpane, she watches him scoop up a great, garish bouquet representing nearly every spectrum in the visible rainbow, and some colours that might not exist save for the eyes of the mantis shrimp. When she gets to ground level and sees him semi-properly, he’s just a blond man in a beanie, carefully regarding a sorry bunch of daffodils held together by what looks like clingfilm cinched shut with twine. Rather than being all spooky and mysterious, Sasha thinks he’s actually deliberating. There’s a pinch in his brow as he lowers the daffodils in favor of prodding the drooping lower lid of a sorry little orchid suffering in London’s less-than-tropical climes.

Sasha kind of feels… sorry for him?

Granted, he’s a monster with terrifying monster hands and monster tendencies and apparently a taste for caffeine, but he really looks caught on what to get. That in mind, she does remember that he bought lilies the last time he was around. Maybe that was less of a coincidence and this Michael creature really does like flowers; or he may have some fellow monster friend that he deems worthy of buying flowers for. Honestly, Sasha doesn’t want to think of what kind of friends Michael keeps.

Against her better judgement and sense of self-preservation, Sasha walks across the street to where Michael forlornly weighs his options. He looks up at her approach, and the first impression she gets is that his eyes are more like spinning tops prone to rotate anti-clockwise. She blinks and sees stationary blue eyes regarding her with confusion, and then… relief?

Huh.

“Sah-shah Jaaayymeeesss!” he almost sings, lifting up the dying daffodils like a salute. “What a pleasure to see your radiant face again!”

“Michael,” she replies, a little colder than she intends. Last time they met, there were far more meaty hands and worms involved, and she’d rather get to work unscathed.

If he thinks the reply is chilly, he makes no sign of it. Instead, he flops the tortured flowers around in his terrible hands. “Actually, I was hoping to see one of you lovely little Institute-dwellers around. I think I gave Martin a bit of a fright laaaaast time!”

Sasha frowns, but can definitely picture Martin having to be peeled off the ceiling after a Michael encounter. “Oh,” is all she says.

Michael goes on, gleefully undaunted. “You see, you and I have a mutual acquaintance! And I think he’s in need of a little—” He gives the daffodils a vigorous shake. “—cheering up these days! But I just don’t know what he’d like! Silly me for not being obseeeeervant!”

“I… A mutual acquaintance?”

“Yeeeessss! Your lovely boss!”

“Elias?”

Michael laughs. Well, more like he laughs in a way that sounds like he laughed ten minutes ago and ten minutes into the future, and then layered the sounds over one another like phyllo dough in a hellish baklava. It’s impossible, but Sasha hears it all the same. “Noooo!” he giggles. “Not in a million endless cycles of time or those dimensions yet unperceiveeeeeed!”

Sasha won’t even start on that statement, except that it isn’t Elias, which means it has to be—

Oh. Jesus.

Grubby, curmudgeonly, insomniac Jesus.

“Jon?” she gasps.

Michael laughs again, louder and higher so that a glass breaks somewhere in the distance. “Yeeeesssss! Poor Jonathan, always working so hard in that dismal cave you call an archive. I offered him office space that would appeal more to a sense of aestheticism, but he… Oh, what did he say? He thought it was a little heavy on the—” And here he speaks in an exact mimic of Jon’s dry voice when he says: “Impossible, improbable, and honest to God, Michael, my brain would shatter into a thousand pieces if I looked at that painting for another minute.” Michael dissolves into a fit of giggles before saying, “It’s just a lost Hieronymus Bosch painting, honestly.”

So Michael McMeatyhands is buying flowers for Jonathan Sims. Sasha’s having a hell of a time wrapping her head around that particular fact.

The infernal giggling stops and Michael seems to circle (spiral?) back to his previous predicament. Dying daffodils or suffering orchids?

For a lack of anything more to say, Sasha wordlessly points to a bouquet of slightly more enthusiastic-looking daisies, bobbing peacefully in a tin pail of water. “Those,” is all she can manage to say.

Michael looks thrilled. He actually hums some impossible tune (in full SATB with orchestral arrangement, all localised in his throat) as he puts the daffodils back, scoops up the daisies, and drops four quid into the stall owner’s hands with a wet, meaty thwap that the owner doesn’t seem to hear. Then, Michael swivels back toward Sasha and grins with the corners of his lips somehow curling up near his eyes like a particularly twisty Cheshire Cat.

“Thank you, Miss James!” he says. “You’re a lifesaver!”

“You’re… welcome? I think?”

But Michael’s already walking away, taking steps in a gait that doesn’t seem to match the rhythm of the rest of his body, like two halves of entirely different people drunkenly attempting synchronicity. Sasha half-expects his legs to walk away from his torso.

Toward Jon.

She sighs and rubs a hand over her face before heading in the direction of the Underground station.

- - -

The boss is dating someone. This, Tim is absolutely sure of. He’s watched Jon like a hawk for a week now, carefully comparing his moods in the morning with how early he left work the night before. Long work nights equal really bad mood. Long not work nights equal better mood with less shouting and calling people morons under his breath. This is good.

This is very good.

Tim is pleased with his enviable knowledge. Whoever somehow won the heart of the boss must be a pretty special person, or at least someone with an endless well of patience. Or maybe they’re Jon’s opposite? Either way, Tim’s got a hankering to send them a box of chocolate as a thank you for chilling the boss out and making him more tolerable to work with.

He tries to picture who this mystery person is, as Jon’s definitely not the type of person to take his personal life to work with him, inasmuch as he likes to take work home. Tim pictures someone easygoing, like a Margaritaville type. They balance Jon’s stick-up-assery out, maybe giving him massages over the back of the couch while Jon watches dry documentaries about the actual speed of drying paint. In his mind’s eye, Tim gives this person a hideously neon Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, but a winning smile that melts Jon’s ice-locked heart and makes it so he can’t help but smile back.

Tim likes them, whoever they are.

And when he gives Jon a little wink after dropping off a follow-up report, says, “Had a good night?” in a way more than a tiny bit suggestive, he only relishes a teensy bit in how dark Jon’s cheek become and how he ducks his head down. He mumbles something before actually thanking Tim for the report.

Yeah, this is awesome. Tim owes Jon’s mystery partner a thank you card and maybe a cake.

- - -

“Eliaaaaas.”

“Michael.”

Staring. Lots of staring. Cold, unflinching irises to a set of psychedelic, rotating disco balls set in a grinning face. Behind Michael, blue and purple streaks like the top of a wildberry Pop-Tart flash about and dance madly as Michael gives him the strangest of staredowns. Occasionally, his head appears to flip upside-down a few times on his swirly straw of a neck, and half of his teeth try to glitch through his lips in a way that Elias thinks of as an attempt at a sneer.

Finally, Elias sighs and calmly folds his hands on the top of his desk, ignoring the waves of tangible static pouring out onto the floor and possibly leaving a stain on the carpet. That’s going to be difficult to explain to the janitorial staff. “We may have to set some ground rules,” he says.

“I’ll bring him home by eleven,” Michael cackles in reply.

Elias narrows his eyes just as he feels Beholding roll its great omnipresent gaze in irritation.

“I mean to say that you’re not to interfere in Institute business any further than you are right now,” Elias retorts. “I should completely ban all Spiral-related statements on grounds of personal involvement.”

Michael grins. His smile rises up to his forehead like a crescent moon before rolling down the side of his face and hooking back up into the empty space where a normal mouth should be. “I can make this weirder. I can spiral any statement in this place. Every little word can bend in and around on itself like a pipe cleaner.”

Elias glares. “You won’t.”

“You can’t stop me!” Michael sings. “But I’ll keep courting your Archivist nice and proper as long as I’d like, or he’d like.”

“If this is an attempt to draw him into the Spiral’s influence—”

When Michael laughs this time, it seems to be drawn from every laugh that was ever laughed in the history of the muscular and diaphragmatic spasms that caused them. It’s so charged, so loud and explosive that Elias nearly winces at it. And when it’s over, there’s a vacuum of sound in its wake, so it takes a full minute for Elias to hear anything properly again.

Then, Michael taps his horrible fingers on Elias’ desk, eliciting a sharp tak-tak-tak-tak-tak that repeats in on itself fifty times over. “Not everything is about influence,” Michael hisses through too many teeth. “Not every attempt on a person is to draw them in and mark them, unlike what you do. Maybe sometimes, one of us can authentically like one of them. Is that too hard for you to understand, Man-of-the-Eye?”

Beholding tries to truly See Michael, but something about the Spiral’s nature twists the image.

“No,” Michael goes on, followed by another round of tak-tak-tak-tak-tak. “I rather like the Archivist. And he likes me. Aaaand if you try to get in the way of us, I will peeeeerrrrsonallyyyyy claw your precious little eyes out of your sockets. Understand?”

Elias doesn’t have time to make a reply. Michael is gone in a gunpowder-bright flash of light and a shock of sound. If there was a door, it’s gone. So he sits alone in his office, staring at the space where the Spiral was, and he feels something terribly empty and terribly familiar.

- - -

Jon picks their next date and opts for something as normal as the last one was strange. He chooses a walk at St James Park, eating ice cream and admiring the pelicans while Michael regales him with some bizarre story that sounds more like a backwards recitation of the Jabberwocky poem. He pauses in between stanzas to eat more of his pistachio ice cream with a delighted gusto before he presses on in gibberish.

Something about it makes Jon feel oddly warm and content, even as the early spring wind chills him.

Their last date was to Annwn, which Jon had originally suspected was in Wales. He was half-right; it was Wales as much as it was also the traditional world of the afterlife in ancient Welsh rites. It was rather lovely and Jon thinks very highly of their honey cakes, although he suspects he probably wasn’t supposed to eat them.

But Michael looks just as pleased to be in this park as he was to be in ancient Welsh paradise. His Jabberwockish story comes to an end and he finishes the rest of his cone before throwing the little paper ring into a nearby litter bin. Then, he stretches his arms out to the side and sighs in contentment. “Just bonny, as they say!” he cheers before reaching down and taking Jon’s free hand in his. It’s got a mind-boggling weight and an odd texture, while appearing to be a normal hand. At first, it gave Jon such an acute sense of discomfort that he found himself involuntarily withdrawing. Now, it’s just another aspect of Michael that he’s learned to like.

Love, maybe. He hasn’t thought on that overmuch.

Yet here they are, holding hands like all the other couples in the park. It’s so simple, so normal. Jon’s life has been so ridiculous lately that the fact he’s holding a Spiral avatar’s nigh-impossible hand on a date in a park is just… maybe the most normal thing that’s happened so far. Michael’s not trying to kill him or throttle his mind to the point of madness.

They’re happy.

Jon’s happy.

He smiles, and so does Michael. Yes, Michael’s smile is making an attempt to summit his head like Everest before flickering back into place like he remembers where he is, but he does smile and it’s perfectly authentic.

It could be weirder, and for once, that thought delights Jon.

#prompt fill #tma #the magnus archives #jonmichael #THIS WAS RLY FUN ;w;#tried to fix the wonky mobile formatting!

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whydowelove · 3 years

Note

Hi there! Can I please have an ENHYPEN and TREASURE personality ship please? I'm an INFP, Gemini girl. I may come off as slightly haughty, but I'm generally a talkative and curious person who loves discussion. It's also very easy for me to cry, either because of a movie or when I'm mad or overwhelmed. I'm not good with tangible gifts to show how much I love someone, so I show it through words or actions. I'm also a worrywart and it messes with my stomach often. Some of the things I'm passionate about include visual novel games, writing, singing, psychology, and just talking to others in general. I love rabbits, pastel colors, and pop/folk/acoustic music. In my friend group, I tend to be the more chatty and dreamy one. In relationships, two things I prize highly would be honesty and communication. My ideal date is stargazing, and I usually end up falling for people whom I deem worthy enough to be my "rock". Thank you so much!

Hello !! I’m sorry this took so long to answer ! I hope this is alright ! :)

In Enhypen I ship you with Jungwon !!

I say this like everytime

But I really think Jungwon would be good at dealing with peoples emotions

He deff sympathizes with people the best and understands them well

Jungwon will 100% be great at communicating and being honest

He expects the same for you

This boy is so good at understanding you it’s kinda scary

He might even understand u a lil too much 💀

You guys prob will have the most interesting convos tbh

Like.. it’s just the most random things

“I wonder who invented the letter “z”?”

“That’s actually a good question Jungwon..”

Y’all spend like an hour thinking abt it before u give up

HES UR BUNNY !!!

This is perfect

You don’t need a pet rabbit when you have a human who resembles a rabbit, right?

I really hope that doesn’t sound wrong...

Star gazing is like every Saturday night and it’s always somewhere different with different food

Like y’all will buy a different food you haven’t tried before just to make it more interesting

You keep going until you run out places to see the stars

Not really any arguments since you guys are really mellow and get along well

But when there is it’s usually just quiet and he tries his best to comfort u even if he’s super angry

You can tell on his face how angry he is but he’s just to caring to walk away without comforting u 😭

He’s really cute pls

Writes letters for u all the time when he leaves earlier for practice and all that !

In Treasure I ship you with Hyunsuk !

Hear me out

Soo we all know how chatty and adventurous he is

I mean I would hope

And so I feel like it would be perfect

Since he also likes talking you guys spend hours on hours just chatting and laughing abt some weird stuff 😭

He will prob try to get u into soccer if ur not already into it

Very outgoing couple

Lowkey annoying but in a good way !!!

Cringe yet best friend kind of couple ?

Y’all will do some cringy ass stuff but also bully each other hella ? 😭

So confusing !!!!

Pls let him dress u up !

An example of being a cringy couple is by wearing matching couple outfits and him feeding u 😭

It’s cute but y’all pls chill pls

It’s ok

Literally never an argument

And if there is he tries to act cute 🤦‍♀️

Lmk how that goes for u

Lowkey he is cute tho 👀

Pls don’t be mad or sad anymore

Hyunsuk loves u

U guys go on the coolest dates ever !!!!!!

Omg

Or u go on weird dates

Like yoga.. I mean it’s not weird but it’s not the most common date idea 😭

A cool date you guys go on every once in awhile is going to a VR cafe tho !

#enhypen #enhypen ships #enhypen jungwon #treasure #hyunsuk #kpop ships #kpop

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lu-undy · 4 years

Text

Chapter 41 - SBT

Here it is!

"M?"

No answer.

"Hey, M? You listenin'?"

Mundy almost got startled when Eddy snapped his fingers right in front of his glasses.

"Huh? Sorry mate, I didn't hear you…"

"Man, you seem to have gone so far away in your head, I wasn't sure I could bring you back to Earth."

"Yeah, sorry…"

"What were you thinkin' about? You were all slouched over the counter and your eyes were half-closed n'all… and what's that dumb smile?!"

Mundy frowned. He didn't know he had been smiling on the outside, even though he had been wearing a grin internally for hours now. He straightened his back and felt some wetness at the corner of his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Eddy's eyes snapped wide out of surprise.

"Have you been droolin'?! What the hell's wrong with you, man?!" Eddy looked in the direction in which Mundy had been staring through the window. "Only reason I'd drool like that is if there's a bomb of a girl outside, but I can't see any! What've you been starin' at?!"

Eddy squinted to see the people passing in the street outside of his shop better. None of them were the 'bomb of a girl' that he expected to find. Mundy grumbled.

"I uh… I fell asleep, that's all."

"You fell asleep?! You fell - man, your eyes were wide open!"

"Whatever…"

Eddy sighed.

"Somethin's on your mind, man, and it's something new, I can tell you that much!"

"Eddy…"

"Whatever it is, I've never seen you like that. You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Anyway, you were sayin'?"

"I was talking about those blokes who're buyin' more and more rifles from competition."

"Don't they buy some from you too?"

"Yeah, they do. But the overall selling of hunting stuff, and rifles in particular, is fuckin' blooming!"

"Why aren't you happy about it?"

"Man, I don't know… It doesn't feel like those are folks who just want to get a bit of huntin' for sports. Let me tell you something about them. See, when they came, they'd always…"

And Mundy's thoughts were warped away from Eddy's words. They came back to that man, that mongrel…

He had laid his head on Mundy's forearm and looked up to him, with his light blue, almost grey eyes. With the bandages he was wearing on his face, it was probably hard to tell for someone who didn't know. But Mundy knew. Oh yes, he did. He had seen Lulu, his perfect skin, his poetic hair, his alluring eyes…

That man was L. And L was Lulu. That meant that L actually looked like…

"Gosh." Mundy said out loud, his eyes opening wide and round.

"I know! It's puzzlin' me, but I'm sure it's puzzling lots of other guys, eh." Eddy put his hands on his hips. "Actually, I had a chat the other day one of them, Fred, the guy works at that other shop at the corner between…"

Mundy was off again. He hadn't said 'Gosh' to answer Eddy. He had said it because he now saw L as Lulu. That face, where tears had rolled as he had sung, was L's. That hair that flew and brushed the air beautifully, that was L's too. And God those eyes, and those lips… All those were L's too…!

"Mate, that's just bonkers…" Mundy said aloud again.

"It is, isn't it?"

Mundy put his hat that was laying on the counter back on his head and took a deep breath.

"M?! You haven't been listenin', have you?"

"Sorry mate…" Mundy wiped his face. "Can't quite focus."

"Why? Is anything' wrong?" Eddy seemed genuinely concerned.

"Nah, mate." Mundy stood off of his stool. "On the contrary, I think."

"What d'you mean?"

Mundy was now at the door. He looked up at the bright blue sky.

"I don't know…"

And he left the hunting shop. He walked in the streets, feeling as light as a feather, almost as if he was hovering above the ground.

The events at the Frenchman's hotel had happened a few days before but since then, Mundy had been on a high that he couldn't manage to land from.

And when his brain rewinded the events, he could feel it in his chest. There was a kind of warmth that he couldn't get enough of. It was intoxicating in the sweetest way. He felt fuzzy, his legs were jelly as he walked on the pavement and he revelled in that feeling. Everything around him was different. Even the air he breathed had a different scent and a different taste on his tongue.

All that because of what?

Because of that man who laid on his forearm. And Gosh, the look he gave him… L has the most poetic eyes Mundy had ever seen. That gaze he gave him was mellow, he was blinking slowly and it went straight to Mundy's insides. He was all flushed and his breath had cut short. He could feel his heart beat in all kinds of places.

But now, Mundy found himself missing that new and oddly satisfying sensation. Those ripples of tremor that had rolled inside him like waves. If he wasn't so shy, he would have done something, anything.

But God, how hard it is to do anything when those ice blue eyes were riveted on him… Like daggers, they pierced inside him. With irises that fair on his own, Mundy felt as if L could read his very thoughts, his most intimate ones. And it had scared Mundy. What if the Frenchman could know the effect his eyes only had on him. Bugger…

And Mundy started wondering. What would he have done if he had the strength, the courage, to do anything but melt in a puddle of heat on that sofa. And he dreamed it all with open eyes, as if it was happening in front of him. Mundy saw himself turn to L, lean his head on the Frenchman's, close his eyes, hold him close, inhale his perfume, exhale pure and sweet agony. The agony of knowing now that what he felt inside himself wasn't something he had allowed himself to feel for decades.

That feeling that had his mind stuck on those eyes, that man; and however hard he tried to tear his mind off of that vision, his thoughts like a rubber band would snap back on that moment, and all the others. All those moments when L, or Lulu, would make him feel good, because he was there, he cared, and if Mundy was to disappear abruptly, at least, someone would worry this time.

Mundy sighed. He had walked through the streets, his feet guiding him because his mind wasn't there at all. No, his mind was fabricating all kinds of scenarios, an endless fan spreading possibilities like a mad painter would toss colours on an eager, buzzing canvas.

He saw L leaning on his shoulder, closing his feline eyes because he felt safe with him. He saw himself looking down at his soft, silky locks of coal and cinder, burning to lose his fingers through them. He saw the icy blue eyes rise to his own and eyelids half-closed with arched eyebrows, the black eyelashes fanning the air like delicate butterfly wings. He saw the silhouette of the body that Richard had described as 'made for modelling', with proportions worthy of being immortalised in statues, and admired. He saw long and slim fingers, hidden behind dark gloves of poetry and mystery. What would it feel to touch them? Shivers shot through Mundy and his shoulders tensed as a reflex. What would it then feel to touch his naked hands, those he saw him use to stroke Perle…

Mundy bit his lip. That kitten was extremely lucky and he understood why she chose the Frenchman. Where else in the world would you be the safest, but in the arms of the one who can kill and refuses to get killed for you? Nowhere, quite simply. Perle must have felt that. She must have sensed that Lucien would do anything for her, for her safety and her well-being.

Ah, how he talked to her was a sight to behold too. He did it tenderly, with affection, and he didn't just call her 'my baby'. He treated her like his baby, worrying about her, asking Mundy to lower his voice to not wake her up…

He must have been a very loving father, a good one; someone who wasn't afraid to show his feelings and support his son emotionally.

Mundy sighed and kicked a rock on the pavement.

L must have been a very different father from Mundy's. Mike could be loving too, but he was extremely stubborn. Each new argument they started was one they never finished, and each time they would come back to it, they would never really come to an agreement. Maybe Mundy was as stubborn as his father, maybe that was why. In any case, since Mundy's voice had cracked, him and his father started drifting away. It lasted until the old man's last breath.

"Hm…"

Mundy's hand pushed a door that his subconscious deemed familiar enough to do it without his conscious agreement.

"Oh hey, M!"

Hearing his name made Mundy snap back to reality. He blinked and looked around as if he discovered the place all over again.

"Your and L's table is free. Go ahead, I'll be a minute."

Mundy obeyed and only when he sat down on the banquette did his mind register the fact that he was at Victoria's diner. The young woman soon came at his table.

"So, what will you have?"

"Coffee and a croissant, please."

Victoria raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"What?" M asked.

"Nothing."

"You sure? Why the smile then?" Mundy himself was now smiling too.

"Alright, it's just that you and L order the same things. I could guess what you want by telling you what he had a few days ago when he came here."

"Really? Well… Eh… He's French, he knows your coffee and croissant are good."

"So do you, mate, but you're not French, are you?"

"Heh, nah I'm not."

"Wish you were?"

"Well, I'm startin' to learn the language."

"Are you?" Victoria was surprised. "Oh, wait, give me just a second, I'll fix your food and be right back, ok?"

"Sure."

And in a minute, Victoria came back. She put the coffee mug and the pastry on the table before sitting opposite Mundy.

"So, learning French, eh?" She asked.

"Bah, just catching a word, here and there."

"How come?" She asked.

Mundy took a good sip of his coffee and raised his eyes from his mug to Victoria's eyes.

"I uh… I got to know a few French songs, good stuff really, and I wanted to understand what they were sayin'."

"I see…"

Victoria let her sentence hang in the air and watched as Mundy started his croissant. He didn't get it. She let the silence weigh and stared at him. Why and how L could fall for that man, she could see. He was simple in a very true way, when L was a man of artifice, of ruse, of tricks. L was someone who liked having control over everything, he liked knowing everything and being in a position where nothing could catch him off guard and possibly hurt him. On the contrary, M seemed to let life guide his steps without questioning its mysterious ways. He just moved at the rhythm of the days and the nights, he was very much in the present, when L was always trying to live in anticipation, guessing what would happen next.

And Victoria was understanding it. L had fallen for the simplicity of M, his very natural and true self. He didn't try to shine or please. He was just himself, and very honestly so, while M had fallen for L's charm, his sense of control, that made him feel safe. In a way, they had fallen for the way that each other managed to find some comfort and solace.

Mundy raised his eyes to Victoria and saw her. She seemed to be expecting something.

"What?"

"Come on, say it."

"Say what?" He bit in his croissant again.

"Come on, where have you heard those French songs…? It was L who was singin', wasn't it?"

Mundy almost spat his coffee out as he choked on a bit of croissant.

"Gosh…!"

Victoria let him take his time to catch his breath.

“Are you ok?” She asked.

“Y-yeah… So you know he sings?”

“I was the one to recommend the place to him, so yeah. I take it you know too, then. Have you been to one of his shows?"

"Yeah." Mundy averted his gaze from the young girl.

"And you liked it quite a bit to try and translate it, eh?" She said.

Mundy blushed and shifted on the chair, a bit to the right and a bit to the left. He was embarrassed.

"I-yeah, yeah, it's nice."

"I've been there once. He got me a table with free dinners so I went with my boyfriend."

Mundy raised his eyes to her. She was smiling.

"Wanna know what I thought of it?" She asked.

"Sure."

"M…"

He frowned.

"He's old enough to be my dad and I have a boyfriend, but if he was closer to my age and if I had been single…" She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. "I mean, it's bloody hard to resist that bloke, isn't it?"

Mundy chuckled, still red in the face.

"I guess it is, eh." He looked through the window, feigning indifference.

"You guess?" She repeated, not believing his nonchalant air for a single second.

His eyes flashed back to her.

"It's obvious!" She exclaimed. "The bloke's gorgeous, he's got the manners and all! I'm sure he's got all of the posh women he sings for at his feet!"

Mundy laughed.

"Well, you're not wrong. He told me he receives heaps of letters from them."

"I'm not surprised!" She added. "The only thing that I can't wrap my head around is how on Earth he is single with all that choice…?"

Mundy smiled, albeit sadly.

"Well, maybe he likes it better that way." He said.

"Pff, bullshit!" She snapped at him like a spring bounces back when you press it. "Nah…"

"What is it then d'you reckon?" He asked, feeling that Victoria had it all thought through.

She looked left and right, as if to make sure that no one around was eavesdropping on them.

"I think he's just after the best person. The bloke can afford it, he isn't unpleasant to look at or to talk to, if just a bit old."

"C'mon, he isn't that old." Mundy said.

"He's got grey hair, the man! I saw it!"

"Yeah, that's gonna happen to you too eh, Victoria."

"Yeah, but in a long time!"

"Hm, guess so."

"You don't seem too bothered by it yourself." She said.

"Bah, why would I?"

"You like them older?" She boldly asked and Mundy's coffee nearly sprang out of his nostrils this time, which made the young waitress burst into laughter.

"Bloody hell, woman…"

"Sorry, but that was super funny…" Victoria rose to her feet. "Gotta get back to it."

She collected the cups and such on her tray and as she took her first step towards the kitchen, she stopped next to him and bent down for her lips to be next to Mundy’s ear.

"He likes you."

She patted his shoulder and left him, jaw dropped, hot, steaming and sweating below his hat. He clenched his fist on the table until the knuckles went white and he breathed fast and short.

What did she mean with that? Did he like him 'like him', or like him 'like him'? Had he told her that or was she just saying what she thought was true? How could she know? He would never tell her, would he?

Mundy took a moment to take a deep breath and calm down. When he deemed himself strong enough for it, he stood up, went to the counter where he paid what he owed and exited. He now was sure, Mundy was indeed hovering above the ground.

He walked, his feet guiding him more than his head as he strolled along the streets, finally seeing the smiles on the passer-bys faces. Families, children, people of all ages, colours and faiths, the rainbow of humanity just enjoying their day. And for once since a very long time, Mundy was amongst them, amongst those who waved at the happy frequency. He saw the spectrum of colours that his eyes had unlearnt to see. The pavement wasn't grey anymore, the sky was of a vibrant shade of blue and the sun was shining brightly.

Even when Mundy entered the poorest district of town, he didn't see the half torn posters on cracked, old walls, where the paint had long washed out. He didn't see beggars as people who suffered. No, they were people who helped and supported each other, a true nucleus of humanity, a family.

"M?"

Mundy stopped sharp. The voice of a child had interrupted him.

"God, you walk very fast, M…!" The poor boy was panting and catching his breath. Mundy squatted down to be at eye-level with him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Have you been runnin' after me for long?"

"Quite a bit… Ooh, alright, now, Maurice sent me…"

"What did he say?"

"He said you should go and see him as soon as possible. It's not about the man you look for, it's about your friend."

Mundy's happiness plummeted and he resumed a focused behaviour in the blink of an eye.

"Alright, is he in right now?" He asked.

"Hasn't left the house after your friend visited him."

"Right, thanks, kid."

The young boy nodded and walked the opposite way while Mundy headed confidently to one of the houses that led into Maurice's lair. The beggar guarding the entrance let him through without him even having to ask.

"Maurice is waiting for you."

Mundy thanked them and in a few minutes, he entered the throne room of the king of beggars.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Take a seat, M."

Mundy obeyed and removed his hat on the table.

"What is it? The kid told me it's about my friend? Who d'you mean?"

Maurice was sitting at his end of the table. His face told just how deep he was within his own thoughts. He took a deep breath and raised his head to Mundy.

"I came across a piece of information." He started.

"Yeah, and? C'mon, why d'you hesitate that much?"

Maurice frowned. He pouted, bit his cheek, and his eyes darted left and right. He was visibly wavering about something.

"I am not sure I should tell you."

"Well mate, you should have thought it through before. Here I am now, sitting in front of you and I know that there is something." Mundy answered. "Who's the friend that the kid mentioned? Is it Eddy?"

"Non."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. That sounded very much like a French 'Non', and not like an English 'No'. Strange.

"It is L."

The Aussie frowned.

"Oh, is it about the beatin'? I guess the Doc' told you. It was me, m'afraid. We had a… an argument and uh…"

"Mundy, forget that." Maurice cut him. "I am not talking about a few punches thrown here and there. Non, I couldn't care less about that."

Mundy raised a curious eyebrow.

"What's the problem then?"

"The piece of information I have come across…"

"Yeah?"

"It… It did upset him."

Mundy frowned again.

"What d'you mean?"

"He stormed away from here and God knows if he will go to the end of his mission now."

"His mission? Well that's pompous if anything… But what was it that you learnt?"

"Mundy, do you know what L is? Did he ever tell you?"

Mundy shook his head.

"Nah, he said he would never tell me and I would never understand it. Wait, hold on, do you know that? Is that what you came to know?"

"Non, God, non… I already knew what he was, who doesn't…" Maurice sighed. "Well, I will not be the one who will tell you. In any case, what I wanted to tell you is that he might need a few more days. He might also decide to, well, at best delay his mission, at worst, abandon it completely."

"What are you on about?!" Confusion was painted all on Mundy's face.

"I don't know if you should go to him and try to lift his spirits up or leave him alone. But given the state he was in when he left, I must tell you this: if he decides to abandon his duty and disappear for another ten years or more, and if you still want it, I will continue to help you get the man who killed your parents."

"What the hell are you talking about now? 'If he decides to abandon his duty and disappear'? What kind of nonsense is that?!" Mundy asked, baffled and slightly worried now.

"I would tell you to go and ask him, but I am afraid he might already be gone."

Mundy's heart stopped.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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Ineffable Valentine’s “A Treatise of Fruit Trees” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Aziraphale tries his hand at getting Crowley an expensive present, but ends up with a sour, jealous Crowley instead. (1740 words)

Notes: Written for the Ineffable Valentine's prompt 'grand gesture'.

Read on AO3.

“Thank you so much for the scrumptious lunch.” And for keeping me out over an hour, Aziraphale scowls, but mainly at himself. He could have excused himself a dozen times, but it’s hard to justify burning bridges when you may need to cross them again later. “It was quite unnecessary though.”

“What? It’s not every day a valued customer sends me on such an intriguing assignment. I wanted to thank you properly,” Aziraphale’s cohort says, too smoothly to be construed as simply a friendly response.

“You were more than qualified for the job.” Aziraphale puts on a slight burst of speed, staying one step ahead of the man in black who seems determined to accompany him to his door. He wishes he would have let him walk back to his bookshop alone from the restaurant. His presence unnerves him.

Plus, it would give Aziraphale less explaining to do.

Aziraphale can already feel him, hunkered down in the bookshop, seething on the sofa nearly five hours earlier than expected.

Since it’s a straight shot from the restaurant to his bookshop, Aziraphale has no luck shaking the man. The two of them get to his doorstep together, and Aziraphale sighs the long, exasperated sigh of a doomed man.

“Yes, well, I’d best get back to work,” he says, trying his best to politely blow his companion off. “Busy day ahead of me.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s so,” he answers and waits for goodbye, but the man looks at him expectantly. What in the world does he want? Aziraphale screams in his head. Aziraphale doesn’t have another job for him, and he’s already paid him for this one, including interest.

It doesn’t hit him fully until the man leans closer, hazel eyes locked on Aziraphale’s flustered face, the question “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” unspoken but etched in the lines of his grin because he can’t say it out loud, can he. Not him. Not in his profession. It’s not the sort of thing he’d want people to know about so he definitely doesn’t advertise.

But if it’s offered to him, who is he to turn it down?

They stand in close proximity on Aziraphale’s doorstep - Aziraphale with his hand on the knob, gauging the right time to turn it and duck in; the man lingering on the edge of kissing distance, waiting for the invitation he’s certain is moments away from coming.

When it doesn’t, when the pause between them goes on for so incredibly long that they’re starting to attract attention, the man backs away, frowning with more disappointment than anger.

“That wasn’t easy to come by,” he says, motioning to the cloth wrapped package clutched firmly but carefully in Aziraphale’s hand. “I hope whoever gets it … I hope it’s appreciated.”

There’s something veiled in that statement, but Aziraphale doesn’t dig deeper in search of it. He smiles, as warmly and genuinely as he can under the circumstances.

“As do I, my good man. As do I.”

He sends a hint of blessing his way, to soothe the sting of rejection and mend fences between them.

Again because Aziraphale may need his help fetching another difficult item in the future.

The man tips his hat. He turns on his heel, glaring at any passersby who dare shoot a glance his way, then walks off, blending with the crowd. Aziraphale deflates against his door. He doesn’t particularly like dealing with hired men. He avoids it when he can. The majority of the stuff he requires, even the gray area items, he can usually acquire through legal means.

This one, however - a book of particularly desirable provenance - was taking too long, and Aziraphale had lost patience.

But now that that’s done with, he doesn’t go into his bookshop right away. He’s dealt with one aggressive and domineering gentleman.

He has one more to suss out before he can call it a day.

He can’t linger on the doorstep forever. Someone might notice him there, wonder if he’s opening up shop.

Might want to come in and browse his shelves for something to buy.

He’d rather fend off a gloomy Crowley than a customer any day of the week.

He forgoes his key and unlocks his door with a turn of the doorknob. He’s greeted by thin streaming light from the afternoon sun blocked by heavy drapes; the musty smell of old books combined with a touch of magicked mildew, meant to keep the odd lookie-loos away; and one dreary demon, sulking on the sofa in the corner.

“Good date, angel?” he growls right as Aziraphale gets a look at him. And even though Crowley is staring him down like a predator, Aziraphale can’t help noticing how exquisitely handsome he looks. He’s gone all out, dressed to the nines - black suit, top hat, leather gloves, cane. On the table beside him stands a bottle of champagne, a bouquet of roses wrapped in thick pink paper and tied with a satin ribbon, and a large, gold box of chocolates.

Truffles. Aziraphale’s favorites.

They’re all Aziraphale’s favorites.

Especially the demon.

“Crowley! What a surprise!” Aziraphale counters brightly, trying to save the day. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously. Didn’t see me here, didn’t return my calls, haven’t been in your bookshop for over an hour. If I remember correctly, you and I had a dinner date planned for tonight.”

“We still do. But you are tremendously early, my dear.”

“Don’t call me that,” Crowley grumbles.

“For Heaven’s sake, why not?”

“Wha---why no---why not!?” Crowley launches to his feet, tossing his hat and glasses aside so that Aziraphale won’t mistake his anger for anything less. “You’re stepping out on me and you’re asking me why not!?”

“I’m not stepping out on you. I did not go out on a date. I was having a meeting with an associate. It just so happened to take place over lunch.”

“On Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes. It’s also a Friday, you know. A perfectly respectable work day for many people in the world.”

“Don’t get cute with me.”

Aziraphale smirks even though he knows that will more than likely set him adrift in dangerous territory. “Then how shall I get, my dear? Tell me.”

“Apologetic might be nice.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale boldly walks up to his sour-faced demon and clears his throat. “Crowley … I’m sorry. Truly, truly sorry.”

Crowley tilts his nose up, sniffs contentiously. “That’s bet---”

“I’m sorry you saw me bidding adieu to an associate and decided to jump to outlandish conclusions without hearing my side of the story.”

“What’s the point!?” Crowley snaps, tossing frustrated hands in the air. “How do I know you’re not going to lie?”

Aziraphale’s brow furrows in offense. “I wouldn’t lie! I’m an angel!”

“In my experience, angels lie plenty. That includes you.”

“Preposterous. When have I lied?”

“You … you …” Crowley sputters, his face growing redder with each syllable “… you downright lied to the Almighty!”

“I mean recently. Besides, I may have bent the truth a tiny bit over one little thing …”

“It was about your bloody flaming sword!”

“Which didn’t turn out to be all that important in the long run. Heaven got it back.”

“B---but … but … She’s the Almighty!”

“Semantics don’t necessarily help your argument, dear. Speaking of, here.” Aziraphale thrusts the cloth-covered package into Crowley’s hands before he can continue his argument. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Crowley looks the package over suspiciously, which annoys Aziraphale to no end. If he’d simply unwrap it, he’d see what it is. It’s not even fastened shut in any way! “What’s this?”

“What does it look like? It’s a present. I would have wrapped it in paper like a civilized person, but you’re not giving me a moment’s peace.”

Crowley finds a loose edge and slowly unwraps the object from its cloth. When he reaches the worn cover (not the original - this book doesn’t have a cover, comes from an era where it wasn’t deemed worthy of one), he stops, breath hitched between sigh and sentiment.

“A Treatise of Fruit Trees?” he reads off the first page.

“A-ha,” Aziraphale says, stifling a grin. “It took quite a bit of finagling to track down and get, but yes.”

“But … that must have taken ages.”

“It did.”

Crowley turns the pages with a single finger lest they crumble under his touch. “And you wasted all that time, went through all that trouble for this boring ass book?”

“Yes, well, you wrote that boring ass book. Under the name Thomas Hitt, which I never understood.”

“It was an inside joke,” Crowley murmurs. “But it sold. Over a decade ago. For around four million, if I remember correctly,” he says, rather smugly. “Did you … buy it back?”

“Not exactly.”

“That man …” Crowley gasps, which sounds comical since Crowley isn’t normally prone to gasping “… he stole it!?”

“Of course, he stole it! It was in a museum. In a vault. It couldn’t even be examined by someone with the credentials to do so, and believe me, I tried.”

Crowley stares at him, mouth agape, a mixture of surprise, and possibly pride, lifting the corners of his lips. Aziraphale sees it grow wider and rolls his eyes.

“Come now. It wasn’t that big a deal. You act like I don’t dabble in the diabolical from time to time. You’re usually the one performing the grand gestures, hunting down the expensive presents. I wanted to try my hand at it for once.”

“But, angel,” Crowley says when his voice comes back to him, “I don’t …”

“I know, I know …” Aziraphale waves his discomfort away with his hand “… you don’t want expensive presents from me. You’ve said it before. You can buy me all the fancy gadgets you deem necessary, but I get you one little book …”

Crowley shakes his head over the remark about one little book. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

“I was going to say …” Crowley sets the book down on the plushest of the sofa cushions, then takes a rigid Aziraphale in his arms “… that with everything I’ve done wrong, I have no idea what I did right to deserve you.”

“I dare say you don’t,” Aziraphale says, melting in his demon’s embrace with the cheekiest of grins. “But I love you all the same.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable valentines #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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