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imagine-the-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Everywhere

Characters: Goro Majima x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Filthy smut. Just... So much smut.

Inspiration: Request by Anon – “Hello! May I request a nsfw majima fic? Where it's the majima everywhere (him doing diff roleplays) but he's following his female s/o around instead”

A/n: Y/s/n refers to your stage name. Hope this works for you!

Life with your boyfriend was never boring. A true enigma of a man, Goro Majima never ceased to surprise you. When one of his best friends was released from prison, he was determined to help his friend get back on his feet – by randomly picking fights with him. You were always there after the fights, of course, tending his wounds. Sometimes, between the moments he spent pestering Kiryu, he would surprise you.

The first time he had caught you off-guard was when you were hailing a taxi, absentmindedly sitting in the backseat, texting your coworker while telling the driver where to go. The scheduling conflict had caused problems, and you were on your way home after an extra-long shift and half of the next. You didn’t even look out the window, trying to figure out if you were working in the morning with the adjustments that were being made – of course you didn’t get a straightforward answer. When you finally had it solved you looked up and out the window, realizing you were nowhere near your home. You started to panic a little.

“This isn’t where—” You looked at the driver in the rear-view mirror, locking your eyes on your boyfriend’s eye. “You scared me, Go-chan,” you sighed. His maniacal laugh made your heart flutter.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Y/n-chan,” he was still chuckling at himself.

“Where are we?” You asked, looking around.

“We’re at the pier,” he replied casually. “Yer outta work, right? Thought we could… Maybe…” He wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed.

Before you knew it, the taxi was parked, and Majima had gotten into the back with you. Sex in the backseat of a car is uncomfortable. There’s not much you can do aside from a couple different positions.

You were leaning back against the taxi door, your legs spread and Majima between them. His skill never ceased to amaze you. You braced yourself against the back headrest and the divider, moaning and whining as he worked you over. His fingers curled and pumping like a jackhammer. He looked up at you, watching as your eyes rolled back and the tightening coil in your core snapped. You moaned his name, the familiar fuzzy weightlessness radiating through you. He continued going, slowing his pace a bit as you rode the waves of your orgasm, unable to take his eye off you. The feeling of your pussy’s rhythmic contractions around his fingers made him close his eye.

You were panting, looking at him as he pulled his fingers out, giving you a final lick before pulling away. You couldn’t help and look at the straining bulge in his pants. All you wanted was him inside you again. You looked out the windows, fogged but you could see the lights of the outside world that paid no mind to either of you or what you were doing here.

Another time, you hadn’t expected going to work to find your boyfriend in drag in the dressing room at the hostess club where you worked. He insisted his name was Goromi, so you rolled with it. Goromi was your newest co-worker, and it surprised you just how good of a hostess she was. The post-shift sex in the dressing room was mind-blowing..You were bracing yourself against the counter where you normally did your makeup, Goromi’s dress had been surprisingly easy for her to lift up and she was pounding you from behind, hands on your hips to pull you back as he thrust forward. Occasionally she would reach up and knead your breasts or would reach around and play with your clit. You left the dressing room sore, hair messed up, reeking of sex, and in a hell of a better mood than when you went in, and you found yourself surprised that no one in the club had heard your moans and shouts of pleasure. Goromi giggled as the two of you left the club together.

On your way to work one day, you were stopped by a police officer. It wasn’t until you actually looked at them that you saw your boyfriend. He’d grinned and made many innuendos about what he was going to do with you, but you reminded him you had work and kissed his cheek. He pouted of course, but let you go about your day. He’d get you another time. Bring you into a secluded alleyway and fuck you against a wall. It felt dirty and the thought alone made him hard.

One time, he jumped out from under a traffic cone, scaring you shitless to the point you screamed, jumped, and then fell to the ground. He was quickly at your side, making sure you weren’t hurt and helping you up. By the time you were on your feet, the two of you were laughing your asses off. Neither of you cared about the funny looks you were getting.

Your favorite time was when you were on a pseudo-date with a client at his favorite bar. When your bartender turned around and was revealed to be your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but grin. Neither of you gave any hint to the client about your relationship; it was all part of being a hostess. He knew what he had signed up for when the two of you started dating, just as you were aware that he was yakuza.

“Alright, Y/s/n-chan, let’s get you back to the club,” your client said with a laughter painted sigh. “I’ve taken enough of your time up.” “If it’s all the same to you, Hiza-kun, I’d like to stay here,” you smiled at him softly. “I’m meeting a friend here later, and it would save me some walking.”

“Alright,” Hizashi pulled out his wallet, handing you enough for a cab home. “If I’m leaving you at a bar, the least I can do is pay for your ride home when you’re ready.” He stared at you for a moment. “I’ll see you next Monday at 3, correct?”

“I think so, but I’d have to check the schedule. I’m also working the day after tomorrow if you’d like to come in. I know I’m free until 4.”

“I might take you up on that, Y/s/n-chan. Be safe tonight, okay?”

“I will. You, too, Hiza-kun.”

You waved at him as he left and focused your attention to the bartender.

“You’re a jack of all trades, aren’t Go-chan?” You teased, sipping your whiskey.

“Eh? So what if I am?” Majima pouted, feigning offense that you knew better than to take seriously. “Eh, whatever. It’s almost closin’ time, I’ll likely be home late.”

“Oh? Family stuff?” You asked, raising your glass to your lips. When nothing but air hit your lips, you realized you were out. You set the glass down with a sigh, your boyfriend already refilling it. His silence made you sigh. “Can’t talk about it here?” You raised the glass to your lips to drink.

“I’d rather fuck ya right here,” Majima said plainly, his signature manic laughter filling the air of the bar as you sprayed your whiskey all over the counter, putting a hand over your mouth after. He kept laughing as you looked at the mess you made and started laughing, too. He started cleaning it up. “Always so messy,” he teased.

“Go-chan, this is a public space,” you reminded quietly.

“Yeah? No one else’s here,” he observed, looking around the room. “I can close early, and we can…” His eyebrow wiggle said it all. “‘Sides, it’s kinda hot, dontcha think? Fuckin’ in public—”

“I don’t think about it,” you admitted. He just tsked at you and came out from behind the bar, walking over and locking the door as you watched. “Are you really—”

“Yeah, really. Ya think I was jokin’?” Majima looked at you. “If you don’t wanna we ain’t gotta.”

“No, I…” You cleared your throat, but that was enough for Majima. You turned to face him as he walked over, placing one hand on the bar, his other hand adjusted his tie. All you could do was stare at him, trying not to melt.

“Say it,” Majima’s voice was low and rough. The bartender act was gone, Daddy was here to play.

“I want to,” you confirmed, and he pressed his lips to your immediately.

The hand that wasn’t on the bar explored your body: grabbing your ass, kneading your breasts, getting tangled in your hair. His touch was electrifying, sending miniature shockwaves through out your body. It was almost shameful how fast you felt your wetness, but you didn’t care. Majima knew how to work you, and it was divine every time the two of your bodies became one.

“Whatta do with ya,” he muttered, his lips grazing yours before he went back to kissing you. He maneuvered his kisses to your neck, and you leaned your head to the side so he had easier access. He pressed his hips to yours. “This is hot,” he admitted. “We should do this more often, dontcha think?”

You were trembling under his touch. Doing this in public was definitely adding to the fun, but it was also giving you anxiety. What if someone saw? You knew the windows were tinted – you could see out, but no one could see in. You looked over, watching people walk by.

“Just think, I could bend ya over this counter and fuck ya ‘til ya pass out, and nunna them would know the difference. Something sexy about that, dontcha think?” You nodded. “Use yer words, Babygirl.”

“Yes,” you answered, breathless.

“Yer just a mess, aintcha?” You could feel his lips curl into a grin against your skin. “I wonder…” His hand went from your ass to your thigh, lifting up your skirt and sliding a hand over your panties. Another maniacal laugh. “Yer soaked.” You blushed. “Awww, don’ be embarrassed, Babygirl. I know how weak ya are for me.” A pause. “There is so much I wanna do to ya, Babygirl.”

“Yeah?” You managed to squeak out.

“Oh yeah.” The next thing you knew you were seated on the counter, barely on it. “Lean back a bit,” he ordered, removing your panties and lifting up your skirt.

You did as you were told, bracing yourself against the back edge so you wouldn’t fall. His kisses moved from your neck, to your collarbone, to your exposed cleavage, to your covered stomach, and to your thighs before he maneuvered them over his shoulders and found home where they met.

The sensation of his tongue inside you made you shiver. His tongue’s pace was steady, before he licked up and refocused on your clit. You were moaning, eyes closed with your head tilted back at the sensation of him running his tongue over your clit. After a moment he inserted a finger, starting to pump. Your breathing was becoming heavier, faster. He inserted a second finger, pumping faster, curling his fingers to hit your g spot.

“I want ya so bad,” Majima growled against you, his fingers still working you over, “but I love the way ya sound.” He bit your thigh before returning.

“Go-chan, I—” You whined, your hand in his hair.

Majima grinned, pumping his fingers faster and flicking his tongue over your clit again, his eyes peeking, watching your face as he felt you start to rhythmically clench around him. He couldn’t help but grin wickedly, knowing he was the cause of the mind-numbing orgasm that had left you speechless. Your vision tunneled, and you rode the waves. He had slowed down his pace, but he didn’t stop until your orgasm had ended.

“You think you can stand?” He asked you.

“I—Yeah, maybe,” you could hardly think.

“Better safe than sorry.” He picked you up, carrying you over to the pool table, laying you down on it. “Are ya comfortable?” He asked, running a hand on your thigh, getting dangerously close to your center before returning down your thigh, repeating the motion.

“Go-chaaan,” you whined.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, knowing exactly what you wanted. Instead of giving it to you, he slid his fingers in again. His other hand unbuttoned your shirt and moved your bra so your breast was exposed. He bent down, taking it in his mouth, causing you to moan even louder. “Baby girl,” he hummed, immediately shifting his kisses from your nipple, to your cleavage, to your collarbone, to your neck. “Whadda ya want?”

“I want youuuu,” you moaned, your eyes closed.

“Yer wish is my command,” his hands already working on his belt.

It didn’t take long before his erection was free and against you. His breath hitched and you felt his dick twitch against your thigh before he pulled you to the edge. Once again, your legs were over his shoulders as he lined himself up at your entrance, slowly working his way in so you had time to adjust.

He had to close his eyes to keep control while you adjusted to him. Once he was in, he slowly started to thrust. His pace started to quicken. His hands found their place on your hips, holding you steady as he picked up the speed. He closed his eye, biting his lip and tilting his head up for a moment before looking down at you.

“Yer beautiful,” he was breathless. You couldn’t stop moaning, but you looked at him, your face still lost in a place of pure bliss. “Fuck, ya feel so good, Y/n.”

“So do you,” you managed to pant, watching him watch you. You groaned, reaching your hands over you to grab the edge of the table. “Fuck, Go-chan.”

Majima moved one hand from your hip to gently rub your clit, trying to focus on you and your pleasure, even though he was getting lost in his own. You’d already came once, and he always made you come at least twice before he got his rocks off. It didn’t take long before you were clenching around him again, quickly approaching your second orgasm. His pace increased, watching your face as your orgasm ripped through you with a loud, animalistic groan. He growled as your rhythmic contractions pushed him closer and closer to the edge before he too fell off. He gave a few more thrusts before braced himself against the pool table, the two of you panting before your lips met in a tender kiss. He pulled out and kissed your calf.

“I love you,” Majima said, not bothering with his fake accent. “I really do. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I know,” you panted, running a hand through his hair before trying to steady your breathing.

“I mean it,” he leaned down and kissed your cheek, letting himself lower so he was on top of you, careful not to put his full weight on your body. He rested his cheek against yours and closed his eye, still panting. “I am helplessly yours. Whatever you ask of me, I’ll do it.”

“Take me home?” You asked. “Hold me until we fall asleep?”

“As you wish,” another kiss to your cheek and he was up, quickly finding something to clean you up.

The two of you adjusted your clothing and he pulled you in for an embrace, holding you close and tight. You rested your head against him, taking in the moment.

#majima #Goro majima #Majima x reader #Goro Majima x reader #yakuza #Majima everywhere

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minamototerunii · 3 years

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Terukane getting ice cream :]

Ice cream

The moon is high in the sky, Tiara has been bathed and tucked in and Kou has gotten a complimentary kiss on the head. Teru heads out into the darkness.

He takes his usual path for a little while, checking his phone for the time before turning onto a different street. A busier night street with late open food stands and adults milling about.

He searches for a familiar face and approaches when he spots it.

“Thank you for meeting me, Aoi.”

Aoi Akane is leaning against a lamppost, looking through his phone in one hand, and a plate of takoyaki in the other. He's got the toothpick hanging loosely in his mouth, and between that and his unpleasant expression, he looks a little like a delinquent.

“Aah... No hello?”

Teru tilts his head at the other, looking at him sideways with a small smile. His hands are in his pockets.

“Are you mad?”

“No-”

Akane doesn't look up for a moment, pushing himself off the post and walking to meet him.

“It's not like coming all the way out here on a school night is a big hassle or anything.”

Despite the harsh tone, he holds out the takoyaki on offering to the class president.

“You're lucky I needed a break from studying.”

Teru declines the offer politely, but pulls out money from his pocket to hand over.

“Here. I was planning on buying you something anyway as a thank you.”

Akane looks at Teru's outstretched hand, taken aback for a moment, before pushing the money back toward him.

“I can't accept that. If you're gonna insist, just buy me something else. I didn't eat dinner tonight.”

“Hah…”

He takes his wallet back out to put his money away, looking to the open stands.

“Alright then, what do you want? Also, why aren’t you eating dinner in the first place?”

Akane hums thoughtfully while he looks at his feet, just a bit of a blush coming to his face.

“Ao-chan...called me over for homework help. By the time we finished, I was behind on my reading and-

Uh- It's fine, I normally power through with an energy drink.”

Teru rolls his eyes at the lovey dovey talk coming from him. He puts a hand on the other’s shoulder and pulls him over to look for a better meal.

“That’s no good, you know. No wonder you’re so thin.”

He pokes him in the ribs with an unusual air of friendliness. This makes Akane flinch with expectation, but he is surprised that it’s painless. Akane looks back at Teru casually- as casual as he can be with his guard up

“ Ah... Yeah...

I mean...you're one to talk- Is this your nightly routine? Someone as busy as you should really try sleeping. Otherwise that smile you wear all day will start to sag.”

It doesn't sound like it, but he is voicing some genuine concern. It's not like he hasn't noticed the moments where Teru's head is on the desk in the student council room- right before he picks it up and immediately begins antagonizing him.

“Well, it hasn’t yet.”

Teru shrugs and assures with his same smile.

“I do my best to keep the neighborhood safe. If I had more time I would go into town too, where there’s stronger spirits. Besides- I had dinner already.”

He turns their attention back to the topic, pointing to a curry and yakiniku stand.

“This place isn’t bad.”

Akane finds his mouth watering as soon as he catches a whiff of the yakiniku. He just nods, taking some steps ahead- something in him doesn’t want to let the upperclassman know he’s excited.

“ ...You know- you can’t keep the whole world safe. Sometimes I think you forget you’re just a student.”

“I’m not just a student, though.”

Comes the immediate rebuttal. Teru moves quickly to order the food Akane’s drooling at before he can argue.

“I’m a promising exorcist with a long family history to uphold. If I can’t even keep one town safe, then what am I?”

Akane squints at the other with his sharp eyes, cutting through the bullshit easily.

“You’re still just a kid, stupid. Tragedy is happening all over- that’s just how life and death interact. You should narrow your scope a bit to the things that matter most.”

He stabs the last of the takoyaki with the toothpick, holding it out as a final offering

“You’ve done a pretty good job keeping your brother safe. He’s still kicking, I think that’s a pretty solid track record.”

Teru leans forward and takes the food into his mouth with a blank expression. Chewing thoughtfully and shaking his head.

“ I’m not out to make a pity party.”

He takes the finished order from the vendor with a smile, pushing it into Akane’s hands.

“I’m here to thank you. For helping me today.”

“Ah-”

Akane definitely hadn’t meant to feed him couple style like that. He frowns, focusing on the meat in his hands instead.

“That’s what this was about? I thought for sure you were gonna wrangle me into some other business with you.”

The flustered look he receives makes him remember how much he likes messing with Akane and he has to stifle a chuckle with his hand, looking away.

“Well... I was curious about something…”

“What would that be?”

(His smile grows as he watches Akane take a bite, his face lighting up only a moment at the savory barbecue before he hides any less-than-annoyed expression from him. Has Teru ever bought someone food before that wasn’t his siblings? Has he ever hung out with friends?

“Ah... I was just wondering about your powers. Are they only effective at the school? Can you use it anywhere?”

It’s another moment where Akane chews another piece contently and swallows. Should he be telling him everything-? Well...he doesn’t seem like a threat right now...

“Mmm... it’s a bit more inconvenient than you’d think. My contract only allows me to use it at school- but I kind of prefer it like that.

It means I get to be more human- it’s not my problem off school grounds.”

“Mm. Ok. So I actually can’t really wrangle you into any other business.”

Teru nods along thoughtfully.

“Can you see supernaturals outside of school?”

He follows up while tapping the edge of his glasses with a curious expression.

“...

I mean- I’m not wearing these for no reason. That’s the one thing that follows me home.”

Akane turns away, carefully straightening his glasses back into order.

“Those pink things hide in my backpack. It’s better if I just don’t see it.”

Teru laughs.

“The mokke are pesky aren’t they? They stopped following me long ago- when I started zapping them on sight in the house.”

This makes Akane pause, looking at his feet for a second, then peering up at Teru under his glasses with sharp eyes.

“ I mean... it’s not like they’re hurting anything. Isn’t that a bit intense? Especially since your sister likes them.”

It feels weird, and he’s visibly uncomfortable defending the supernaturals he claims to hate so much.Teru looks a bit tense and glances away.

“ Mm. Tiara does like them, and they’re not the worst nuisance, but... If my grandparents visited, and there were stray spirits in the apartment... They would not approve.”

He says it with a sharpness. It carries a heavy weight.

“No wonder you’re uptight.

You’re high ranking and still under that kind of scrutiny?

Yikes.”

Akane scoffs as he leads them to a bench- strategically next to an ice cream stand- and sits down to finish his meal.

“Must be hard.”

Teru follows, hesitating for a moment before sitting down, like he can’t relax.

“Of course they’re watching me. I have my siblings with me, and they are also prospective exorcists. I can’t fuck up.”

He sighs and looks up at the sky, watching the distant twinkling stars cloud over. The vulgar language catches Akane off guard for a moment though, but he forgoes the snark this time.

“...Hey-

Don’t take this the wrong way but…

Do you have any friends?”

The blonde’s face scrunches for a moment in offense, but it doesn’t last as he notices the lack of humor in Akane. His lips press together.

“Um... No. Not really. I mean, I have classmates and... I have you?”

...Really-?”

The underclassman squints at him, not expected to fall into that category by any means. “So...you’re trying to do this exorcist responsibility, raise your siblings, and uphold your family’s name-”

He starts to talk with his hands, gesturing with more emphasis on each burden

“ AND you’re pushing away the only people that can really help you- on top of that you have NO social life or means of venting.”

He frowns, brow furrowing in concern and harsh judgement.

“You told me this wasn’t a pity party, but you’re making it hard not to be. I give you a year TOPS before you snap entirely.”

“That’s not- I mean. I’ve been fine for this long. I don’t see why that would change. It’s not like I have time to make friends.”

Teru has gotten defensive, fingers tapping against his knees as his jaw reddens.

“Yeah, but do you really want to burn out at the ripe age of 18 years?”

Akane leans forward, resting his chin in his hand and looking up at the other boy.

“Your current outlet is harassing me at school, but if that's all you have...

I don't know. That must be lonely, that's all.”

They sit in silence for a little while, and Akane keeps to himself as he thinks. Finally, he stands-

“Hold on.”

He walks a little bit over, and when he returns, it's with an ice cream cone in each hand. He holds out one to the older boy.

“It's chocolate raspberry- I don't know if you like that at all. But don't eat it if you don't want it. It's whatever.”

Teru takes it with both hands, looking down at it with shameful redness creeping up his cheeks. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he sits quietly, venturing to try a bite of the treat. It’s one of the first times Akane has seen him speechless. When he finally says something, it’s subdued. “It’s good.”

“Yeah…”

Akane tries not to look at him too much- but it's unfamiliar seeing him without his aura of overwhelming power. He...almost feels bad about it.

“...Raspberry is my favorite.

...What's yours?

Favorite flavor, I mean.”

“Chocolate.”

Teru smiles again, some of the ice cream on the tip of his nose.

“Then this isn't half bad for you, huh?”

Akane finds himself smiling back despite it all, though he keeps his gaze down to hide it.

“...What other kinds of things do you like?

Do you have any actual hobbies?”

Maybe this is good for him... both of them really- Talking like friends.

Teru is looking over at him again, his eyes piercing even when his expression is soft.

“Hobbies…”

He definitely has to think about it for a moment.

“I like to read and... Sing.”

“Singing, huh? Have you ever gone out for karaoke?”

Akane keeps glancing back at Teru, feeling antsy under his scrutiny- even though this is a different face than he normally makes.

“You'd probably enjoy it…”

Teru scratches behind his own ear, looking away towards the people on the street.

“ Ha... No, I haven’t.”

Something feels shy between them, and he finds himself having a hell of a time continuing to be so genuine, but... it still feels nice to talk.

“What about you?”

“Mm...I've had a lot of hobbies.”

It doesn't require much explanation- of course the upperclassman knows of his efforts to impress his childhood friend. He takes a deeper breath, speaking more in a mumble as embarrassment rises in his chest.

“ ...I do really like doing miniature kits...

I started that because Ao-chan was interested, but I kept it up…”

Teru tilts his head, leaning a bit towards him with interest.

“Miniature kits...? Like.... those tiny house things?”

He mimics tweezers. He gets a big smile suddenly.

“Wow! That’s so cute.”

“Ah- You don't have to call it cute…”

He feels his cheeks redden a bit, and he quickly stuffs a bite of ice cream in his mouth, wincing at the chill.

“... Mmm. I'm working on...a teahouse right now…”

Teru catches on to his blush quickly, bumping him a bit with his shoulder. He isn’t going to let him out of this.

“ A tea house? Do you have any pictures?”

“...”

Akane bites his lip, sitting for a moment with his shoulders hunched forward. It's not like...it's a secret- but it's not something he talks about either. His hand slowly retrieves his phone from his pocket, and in a moment he's holding out a picture of a recently finished greenhouse. It's decorated with an abundance of intricately crafted flowers and gardening tools, and though the picture isn't focused on it, Teru can see the small figure of a certain dark haired girl standing in the midst of it.

“I just...finished this a bit ago. It's still kind of messy- the flowers were hard because there were so many kinds. So don't look too closely.”

Teru spends a long and silent moment inspecting the picture. His hand has reached out to steady the phone and pull it closer to himself, over Akane’s hand.

“...

This is…

Really amazing! You made all of it by hand?”

He points to one of the gardening tools in the picture.

“How big is that?”

Akane stiffens under the touch for a moment- but only a moment as he focuses on his handiwork instead.

“That-? Uh... About a centimeter, give or take. It was the length of my pinky nail.”

Teru’s eyes are wide and interested.

“ Wow! Really? That’s crazy!”

He laughs in delight, but sombers slightly.

“...Akane-san....Didn’t like this?”

“I... haven't shown her this one.”

Akane can't contain himself now, face heating up more and more.

“I showed her the first one I made- It was supposed to be the sakura trees at the spring entrance ceremony…”

He looks a little bummed out, his voice becoming tense and flustered.

“She liked the details but she told me ‘Wow, Akane-kun, it's like you captured me forever here. Kinda creepy~☆’

WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY? So now I make little worlds for tiny Ao-chan and I can't show her any of it!!!”

“Ah…”

Teru watches the other spiral, nodding along with brows upturned.

“That’s rough... But I mean, I’m sure there’s lots of other people who would like this sort of thing. I think it’s pretty cool. You should post it online or something.”

He tilts his head with a little encouraging smile. It’s still hard to tell where his mask smiles end and real ones begin, but he sounds pretty honest.

“...You think so?

I've never thought about sharing it…”

Akane looks back up, finally regaining composure. Regrettably, there's still pink to his cheeks.

“...Thanks.”

“Yeah- No problem.”

He looks away, his cone gone now.

“ ...

Anyway- I should get going. I still have a lot of ground to cover.”

He stands from the bench with a sinking in his chest, feeling awkward again.

“Ah, hey- hold on.”

Akane reaches out, grabbing Teru's sleeve. He looks up at him with strain, having spoken before thinking.

“...You... can call me out here like this again. I don't mind.

I-if you buy me food again, I mean.”

Teru stares back at him for a beat, looking surprised. His expression softens again into a smile though.

“Sure thing.”

He steps out of his grasp with a little wave.

“See you tomorrow, Akane.”

“See you-”

Akane waves back, sitting for a while longer to reflect on it all- how involved he should actually be...how involved he WANTS to be.

...Whatever- he still has studying to do anyway.

This was an adapted roleplay between me and @nene-chanblog ^^ Hope you enjoyed! <3

#requests #tbhk #tbhk fanfic #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shonen hanako kun #terukane #minamoto teru #aoi akane #thanks for the ask and thanks for waiting!

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randomly-a-fan · 3 years

Text

Father and Son-wise Camping Trip Finale

First Part: [Link]

Second Part: [Link]

Out on the storm, Archie was bawling his eyes out, he didn’t know where to go or want to have anything to do with his dad, since he now realize that his dad expected him to be menacing, but instead, he felt like a failure. Archie knew he can’t stay out in the rain, especially a storm, so he ran to Malon’s club house that her dad repaired to make it more safer and solid. Archie remembered a trunk that had old blankets in it, so he took some out and bundle himself with it. He had like almost ten blankets around him because the blankets were worn out and full of holes, so he needed that many in order to keep warm.

Meanwhile, Jason and Pennywise were still out searching for Archie, Pennywise tried sniffing him out, since it’s one of his powers; to smell prey and scents of his loved ones. But the rain is covering the scents so he couldn’t sniff out. Jason saw muddy footprints, so he followed them with Pennywise coming from behind. “You see Jason, that’s why I was too afraid to tell him about the new baby coming, I was afraid that he’ll think I’m replacing him, which I don’t.” Pennywise explained. Jason did heard him, but he needed to follow the tracks carefully. “You think Archie will somehow forgive me... Even though I don’t know what’s there that requires forgiveness?” Pennywise added and asked. Jason only shrugged to Pennywise’s question as he was trying to follow the tracks, but as the rain falls harder, the footprints in the mud disappears.

Meanwhile, while Archie tries to keep warm, he felt something wet beneath him. The club house was being flooded; the club house was located down the ditch so the wind and storm causing the lake to overflow and caused the flood down the ditches. Archie panicked and decided to get out of harms way, but the door got stuck and sticky from the mud and water that he can’t get out, and the windows were strong so it’s hard for a little boy like Archie to break open. He panicked and banged on the door hard as the water rises. “HELP.” Archie shouted from the top of his lungs.

***

As Jason and Pennywise were about to turn around to walk back to the cabin, Pennywise heard the cry. “Archie!” Pennywise rushed over towards the sound of Archie’s cries, then he saw the flooded house. Pennywise was shocked. “Archie! are you in there?” Pennywise called. “Dad the door is stuck and the water is rising up to my upper-waist!” Archie yelled out. “Stand back son, I’ll get you out!” Pennywise responded. Pennywise uses all of his strength to break the door down, but to no avail. “DAD?” Archie called out. “Hang on son!” Pennywise said in a scared tone.

Jason came down the ditch and into the water, even though he’s afraid of water, but he had to, or else Archie will end up like he did as a child. Not this time. Because of how strong Jason is, he bust through the door with ease. Pennywise shoved Jason out of the way to grab hold of his son. “I got you son!” Pennywise said as he pulled Archie into his grasp. “Let’s get the hell out of here!” Pennywise said in a mad tone.

On the way back to the cabin, Archie spoke. “Dad, I’m--” “NO... not a word!” Pennywise said in a stern tone. “I’m very disappointed with you; I could have lost you if Jason hadn’t faced his fear in going into the flooded water!” Pennywise added. Archie nodded as he deserved to be snapped at.

***

Back at the cabin, Jason brought Archie and Pennywise in. MJ and Malon were relieved that Archie was safe and sound. But MJ noticed that Pennywise was very angry with his son. “Penny, maybe you and Archie would like to have a private discussion in the bathroom as you dry yourselves off.” MJ suggested. Pennywise nodded in agreement and took his son over to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, Pennywise was grabbing a towel and dried his son off, then he heard sniffles. “I knew you’re going to catch a cold, after running out in the rain and--” Then he saw Archie was crying. “Oooh... Now son...” Pennywise puts down the towel and wrapped his arms around his crying son. “You want to tell me why you’re so upset that made you run away?” Pennywise asked softly. “You and mommy are going to replace me... with a new baby on the way, you won’t want me anymore...” Archie sniffed. Pennywise chuckled. “Now son, that’s the most silliest thing I’ve ever heard; your mom and I didn’t want to replace you... We love you to bits...” Pennywise explained. “But you said to Jason that you’ve been longing for a child that actually has demon clown powers... since I’m more human...” Archie said. Pennywise looked away with shame before he turned back to face his son again. “That may be true about what I said; but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you, you mean the universe to me, power-less or not, you’ll always be my loving son.” Pennywise said before he wiped the tears off his son’s eyes. “You probably didn’t hear this part, but I mention to Jason that your mom and I thought that you needed someone to play with whenever you’re unable to go over to Malon’s place. We want you to have someone to look up to you as ITs big brother.” Pennywise added. “So... you and mom did all this trouble, just for me?” Archie asked. Pennywise smiled with a grin. “If you want to put it that way. We just want you to be happy son; don’t ever worry about not getting the same amount of love, we’ll love you and your little sibling the same... Promise.” Pennywise assured. Archie cling to his dad for the finale hug. “I love you dad...” Archie said with a sniffle. “I love you too son...” Pennywise replied with tears running up his eyes.

***

After the father and son discussion in the bathroom, Aquarius barged in without even knocking, she rushed over to her son and observed him. “Thank goodness you’re alright, MJ told me that you ran out in the storm and your father had to go out there looking for you... There will be some serious talking young man--” “Now now Star-babe, I’ve already settle this with my son, and he knows better than to do that stunt, *to Archie* right son?” Pennywise said. “Right... Because of the circumstances I have caused, you and I will go to the park and hunt for your prey and have a picnic. Sound good?” Archie replied. Pennywise was shocked. “You want to go on a hunt with me?” Pennywise asked in shock. “Well Father’s Day is the time for you to do whatever you want, so yes dad... I want to spend time with you, even if I have to lure children over to you.” Archie answered. Pennywise hugged his son again before they head to Cassandra’s car.

Pennywise first turned towards Malon to speak to her. “I want you to know that you’re spared from my grasp, since you’re friends with my son, that makes you my friend too... at least until my son gets tired of you, then I’ll have someone to target on...” Pennywise said with a wink before he exits. “Don’t worry Malon, you and I will be forever friends.” Archie said as he gave Malon a pinkie-swore.

***

The next day, Pennywise and Archie were at the park. Even though Archie isn’t looking forward into catching his dad’s prey, but his dad made a small exception to let his son play with the kids before he lures them to him.

Afterwards, the two decided to buy an ice cream cone at an ice cream stand. Archie ordered Wild-Blueberry, while Pennywise tries to order Tutti-Frutti. “Sorry sir, that flavor is too soft.” The man said. “The list clearly stated that you have Tutti-Frutti, and if you have Tutti-Frutti, I want Tutti-Frutti, so where’s my Tutti-Fu*kin-Frutti!?” Pennywise ordered with his sharp jaws showing. The man sighed. “...$4.95...” The man said as he gave Pennywise the soft Tutti-Frutti in a bowl. Pennywise turned to his son with a smile. “Best Father’s Day ever son... Thank you.” Pennywise said as he gave his son a rub on his back. “Anything to make you happy dad, Happy Father’s Day.” Archie said as the two of them walk home together.

The End

#IT #IT Chapter 2 #Pennywise #Pennywise the Dancing Clown #Friday the 13th #Jason Voorhees #MJ #Malon #Aquarius #Archie

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teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years

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LOVELY, DARK, AND DEEP: CHAPTER 6

cw: mentions of existentialism, nonspecific discussions of death/the afterlife, minor angst, brief moment of panic

chapter 1 // chapter 2 // chapter 3 // chapter 4 // chapter 5 // read it on ao3!

word count: 6784

“What is that?”

Virgil looks up, lunch hanging out of his mouth. “Wh’s wh’?” He tears off a bite of his sandwich, chews, and swallows. Logan watches him intently from his shallow tank the entire time. “What’s what?”

“That thing you are consuming.”

“It’s a sandwich.”

“That is nonsensical,” Logan says, frowning. “From what I understand, human digestive systems are far inferior to ours. You require your fish to be consistently heated until all the flavor is gone and you have many other diet regulations that we do not. Yet even we cannot digest sand when it gets in our food. How are you doing so? Explain, please?”

Virgil gets the sense that he should be slightly insulted by what Logan’s said, but he isn’t. “There’s no actual sand in this, Logan.”

“Then why is it called a sandwich? Why do humans insist on calling things what they are not? I will never understand . . .”

“I think it’s named after some guy. Some earl or something, the first guy to make a sandwich. So now we call them all sandwiches even though there’s no actual sand in it.”

“That does not make sense,” Logan says, frowning.

“Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. You’re right, but I can’t exactly go around and change what a sandwich is called. That’s not how this works. That’s not how any of this works.” Logan makes a confused face.

“So it is not sand?”

“No, Logan. It’s not sand.” Logan scratches at the bandages wrapped around his arm, and Virgil swats his hand away. “Hey! What did I say about touching your bandages?”

“That I should not do that because my wounds could become infected and require a prolonged stay in this miniature human ocean,” Logan recites.

“And what are you doing?”

“Touching my bandages.”

“I’m gonna have to put you in a cone of shame at this rate.”

“What is a cone of shame?”

Virgil pulls out his cell phone and taps at the screen until an image of a dog wearing a cone appears. Logan hisses at it when he sees it. “You will not put that on me!”

“Well yeah, obviously. It wouldn’t stop you from fiddling with your bandages, and I don’t have a cone of shame for you. Plus, it’d fuck with your gills since they’re on your neck.” Logan shudders, reaching up to touch his gills where they lay flat and closed against his neck. Virgil remembers how they’d found him, slumped on the beach and barely breathing, gills pinned shut. “Hey, Lo?”

“What is it?”

“I have a question for you.”

“You have already asked me a question, but feel free to ask another.”

“Why don’t you have gills on your torso?”

“I am confused by the word ‘torso.’ Please elaborate?”

“Patton has gills on his neck, like you, but he also has them here.” Virgil sets his sandwich down and presses his hands to his ribcage, approximately where Patton’s larger set of gills is. “Roman has two sets of gills, too. But you only have one. Why is that?”

Logan frowns, touching his ribs. “I . . . do not know. Dad and Roman have always had two sets of gills. I have never had gills on my - torso, did you call it? - and until recently I never saw a reason for them. Now, of course, I can see where they may be beneficial . . .”

“So you’ve just . . . never had any gills other than the ones on your neck?”

“No, I have not.”

Virgil frowns. “That . . . seems strange . . .”

“I am sure it is, but I do not have any explanations to offer you.”

Logan swishes his tail restlessly in the shallow tank, glancing nervously towards the entrance to the ocean cove. Thomas had taken Roman and Patton out hunting earlier, leaving Logan and Virgil to wait around in the lab. “Are you okay?”

“Just anxious for my pod to return. I find that having them out of my direct line of sight makes me . . . incredibly uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Virgil?”

“Hmm?”

“May I see more of those . . . ‘draws’ that you make, please?”

“My drawings?”

Logan’s cheeks flush just slightly, and Virgil has to forcibly stop himself from squealing at how adorable it is. “Yes. I find them . . . intriguing. You create such detailed, lifelike images with a few fancy sticks, and it is aesthetically pleasing. I enjoy them.”

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to blush. “I - wow, uh . . . thanks, L.”

“It is no trouble.”

Virgil picks up his sketchbook and holds it open for Logan with one hand. Logan leans forward to squint at the drawings, tilting his head to the side. “What is this a drawing of?”

Virgil peers over the sketchbook, trying to figure out what Logan’s looking at. “Oh. It’s the night sky, the stars and stuff.”

“What is a star?” Logan asks. “What is a sky?”

Virgil frowns, setting the book aside and reaching for his laptop. “You’ve never seen the sky before? You’ve never seen the stars? You have to have seen it at some point, right?” He pulls up a photo of the night sky and turns it around to show to Logan.

“Oh! I know what that is.”

Virgil hums. “So . . . what do you think that is, then?”

“It’s the Upper Ocean,” Logan says matter-of-factly.

“The Upper Ocean?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“It’s where the Seven Mother Goddesses live.” Logan points to the full moon in the picture. “That’s their palace right there.” Virgil blinks.

“It’s a what now?”

“It’s the palace of the Seven Mother Goddesses. They live there, in the Upper Ocean. They’re the ones who blessed us with the oceans. Before, there was no water at all, just hard, dry land. The Seven Mother Goddesses took pity on us. They brought a jar of water from the Upper Ocean and spilled it on the land. Everywhere the water touched, an ocean sprung up. They created the oceans for us to live in, and then sprinkled droplets of water over the remaining land so that those who lived there would have lakes and rivers. But all water sources connect back to the oceans, because the water from the Upper Ocean wants to collect back together.”

“Did these Seven Mother Goddesses stay here?”

“No. They returned to their palace in the Upper Ocean. They watch over us from up there.”

“So what are all these, then?” Virgil gestures to the stars.

“Those are the death palaces.”

“The what now?”

Logan looks at him as though he’s just asked what two plus two is. “The death palaces. When mer die, our spirits leave the ocean and are carried to the Upper Ocean. Each of those little glowing places in the sky is a death palace, where our spirits spend the rest of their afterlife. They’re at peace.”

“Oh. So it’s your heaven, basically?”

“What is a heaven?”

“Where you go after you die, if you’re good.”

“You go to the Upper Ocean if you’re bad, too,” Logan says. “But you don’t get a death palace. You just disintegrate. You’re reabsorbed as part of the ocean waters. You stop existing as you.”

“Damn. That’s harsh.”

“That is reality.”

Virgil isn’t in the business of arguing with the metaphysical beliefs of other people, especially merpeople that he’s only just gotten onto good terms with, so he lets it go. Logan continues looking through his sketchbook, periodically making comments as Virgil finishes his sandwich. “Can I try?”

“The sandwich? I hate to break it to you, but I already ate the whole thing, so . . .”

“Not the sandwich. The draw. I want to try.”

Virgil blinks. “You - you want to try drawing?”

“Yes. Is that an issue?”

“No, not at all! I just - I’m gonna have to go get some supplies. That’s all.”

“That is fine. I will wait here.”

Virgil puts his sketchbook down and hurries off upstairs, poking around for art supplies that he doesn’t mind sacrificing to this noble and very homosexual cause. He finds a stack of scrap printer paper, some old pencils that don’t produce the good quality graphite, and a stack of towels so that Logan doesn’t drip seawater all over the paper. He’s going to have to prepare Logan to suck at drawing (God only knows he did when he first started) and he’s not really sure how Logan will take it, but he’s going to have to try anyway.

He returns to the lab to find Logan attempting to heave himself out of the water and onto the floor. “Hey, hey, whoa whoa-whoa-whoa whoa, hey! What’cha doin’ there, buddy?”

“Attempting to remove myself from the tank. What do I appear to be doing?” Logan hisses in pain when he drags his scraped tail over the edge of the tank, flopping back into the water with a splash that only soaks part of the floor.

“Agitating your injuries and making your stay in the lab a lot longer than you want it to be?”

Logan’s tail swishes unhappily, but he doesn’t try and launch himself out of the tank again. “If you don’t wanna draw in the tank, I can move you onto one of the lab tables. You gotta tell me what you want, though. I’m not a mind reader.”

“I would prefer to be moved onto the table, please. It has become apparent that if you drop the draws into the water, they do not survive.”

“You got me there,” Virgil sighs. “That’s why I brought the towels. I can move you onto a table, and then we’ll make sure we dry you off thoroughly before you start drawing. Oh, and just a fair warning? You’re probably gonna suck at it at first.”

“What is . . . ‘suck’?”

“It means you’ll probably be really bad at it, since you’ve never done it before.”

“Were you ‘suck’ at it when you first started?”

“What you meant to say was did I suck when I first started, and yeah. I was terrible. The only reason I’m so good now is because I took a lot of classes and practiced for years. It’s okay if your drawings kinda suck. I’m not gonna judge you for not being good at it.”

“Good,” Logan says. “I find the idea of you thinking me incompetent distresses me a great deal.”

Virgil rapidly turns his back to Logan before he spontaneously combusts from the Gay. “Right! Well! I’m just gonna go ahead and wheel that lab table over then!”

“Alright.”

Virgil drags a rolling table over and locks the wheels, covering the surface in towels. “Are you ready over there?”

“Yes, I am.” Carefully, Virgil reaches into the tank, and Logan reaches his arms up to loop them around Virgil’s neck. Virgil lets one arm wrap around Logan’s back and slides the other one down to where his tail naturally bends in the middle. He very deliberately does not think about the fact that if Logan were a human with legs, his hand would be dangerously close to his ass right now.

Virgil quickly drags his head out of the gutter before he can wonder what that would be like. Logan flicks his tail up out of the water, coiling the end to drape around Virgil’s forearm. “Careful!” Virgil yelps, wobbling on his feet and nearly overbalancing. “What if I fall over and drop you?!”

“You will not,” Logan says, and wow his face is close to Virgil’s. His eyes are wide, and almost eerily luminescent under the fluorescent lights. The midnight-blue scales littered on his face (clustered around his eyes and nose, almost like freckles, like a mask) gleam, twinkling almost like stars, drawing Virgil in. “I have faith in you, Virgil. You will not drop me.”

“That’s a lotta faith to have in someone you wanted to kill a week and a half ago,” Virgil breathes. Logan smiles, huffing out a soft breath through his nose.

“You have not dropped me yet, Virgil.”

Virgil hurries to set Logan on the lab table before he loses his grip.

“You are pulling my hair!”

Logan pulls his head away, wincing and rubbing his head. Virgil gently sets the towel on the table, setting a hand on his shoulder; it’s absurdly warm, Logan notes. “I’m sorry, Lo. I forgot you’ve never used a towel before. Here, I’ll be gentler this time.”

The towel comes back, softer this time. Rather than wringing and pulling, it pats and squeezes gently, carefully smoothing his hair and pulling the water away. “There you go,” Virgil says. “All dry.” He smiles, and Logan feels something very strange begin to move in his heart. He leaves the towel draped around Logan’s shoulders and hands him another one. Logan carefully wipes down his arms and hands and torso while Virgil dries his back and tail.

It’s strange, feeling someone else’s hands on him. Logan is used to touch - he’s used to sleeping intertwined with Roman and their dad, he’s used to play-wrestling with Roman and hugging his dad, he’s used to his dad smoothing his hair out of his face and carefully applying seaweed over injuries from hunting or battles. He’s been touched, of course he has. Still, there’s something strange about the way he feels when Virgil touches him.

Virgil’s hands have power behind them. Logan knows that at any point, Virgil could snap and hurt him. This isn’t his world, after all; it’s Virgil’s. If Virgil wants to keep him and his pod in this lab for his own sick amusement, there’s very little he or Roman or even his dad could do to stop them. Fear of the humans has been drilled into him since he was a guppy. They have the power to tear his life apart and destroy the pod he’s worked so hard to build. Logan should be terrified. He should be trying to kill Virgil, or at the very least stun him.

He is not doing either of those things.

Logan allows himself to grow distracted, slowing down in his towelling of his arms to focus on the way Virgil dries his tail. He applies pressure to soak up the water, but he’s still gentle. He carefully moves the towel so that he’s not pressing on the tender bandaged areas. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, and he worries it with his upper teeth as he works.

For some strange reason, Logan can’t stop staring at that lip. He wonders what it would be like to smooth his fingertips over it. Would he be able to feel the indents from Virgil’s teeth in the skin? Would it be soft or chapped? What would it feel like to lean over and press his mouth to Virgil’s? To pull Virgil’s lower lip from between his teeth and suck it between his own? Would Virgil taste like the sea, or would he taste like that “sand witch” he had been eating?

“Uh . . . Logan?”

Logan startles, blinking rapidly and looking at Virgil, whose gaze has shifted from his tail to his face. “Are you okay there, buddy? You were kinda . . . starin’ at me.”

Virgil’s cheeks are faintly pink. Curious.

“I apologize. It was not my intention to stare at or confuse you,” Logan says, hastily turning his attention back to the towel wrapped around his forearms. “I merely found myself . . . what is the human expression? ‘Lost in thought.’ I did not mean to alarm you.”

“I mean, same,” Virgil says. “I do that all the time, and then the Doc asks me what the hell I’m doing staring at him. Don’t worry about it. I was worried I’d hurt you or something.”

“You would know if you had hurt me,” Logan says. “But you have yet to do so, and I am reasonably confident that you will not.” He feels his heart rate begin to pick up, unsure why it is doing so. Virgil’s cheeks get pinker still, and he quickly turns away, breaking their eye contact.

For some reason, this distresses Logan slightly.

Virgil finishes drying him off and places a stack of paper on the towels in front of Logan. “Here’s your paper, and here’s your pencil. Oh, fuck, wait - do you know how to hold a pencil?”

Logan takes the strange draw stick from Virgil, squinting at it curiously. “I . . . have never done so before. Perhaps if you were to demonstrate, I could copy your technique?”

Virgil pulls up a chair next to the table and props a sketchpad against the edge. “I mean, you gotta remember that I have years of practice doing this and you don’t,” he says, “but if you want, I can try.”

“That would be beneficial.”

Virgil pulls another draw stick from behind his ear and presses the non-draw end against his lip, humming. “What should I draw?”

Logan’s mouth moves before he can stop himself. “You could create a draw of me.”

Virgil’s eyes snap up to meet Logan’s. “You - you would be okay with that?”

“Your draws of me are very good,” Logan says. “And - and I do not mind when you create draws of me, and I am - I am right here, am I not?”

“You are . . .”

Virgil looks away, and Logan feels his face begin to burn. He is confused, but his confusion quickly fades when Virgil begins to make his draw. Logan studies the way he holds his draw stick, making sure that he’s not staring at Virgil when Virgil’s gaze flicks back up to him. He adjusts himself about seven times before leaning down to start his own project.

He quickly learns that Virgil was right - creating a draw is much harder than he makes it look. The draw stick is awkward in his hands, and as hard as he tries he can’t move it around easily like Virgil does.

“If you have a mistake,” Virgil says, glancing up again, “use this end.” He taps the pink end of the draw stick. “It’s called an eraser, it gets rid of the marks. Here, I’ll show you.” He makes a random line in the corner and then rubs the pink end back and forth rapidly, brushing the page off to reveal that the mark is gone.

Logan turns his draw stick around and tries to remove some of his mistakes from the paper. It takes him a few tries to get the hang of it, but he finally manages to scrub away his mistakes and start again. “Will . . . will I be able to produce a good draw, do you think?”

“Today? Probably not,” Virgil says, not looking up from his pad. “Eventually? Maybe, if you’re committed to getting better. It’s gonna take a while, and you are gonna hate your work at one point. You’re gonna wonder what the point of doing it over and over again is if you don’t seem to be getting any better. But then, one day, you . . .”

His voice takes on a faint, nostalgic tone. “One day, you’ll be looking back through your old work and you’ll compare it to the stuff you’ve just did that you thought was horrible and . . . and you’ll . . . you’ll realize how far you’ve come. And you’ll realize that even though you thought you were so, so shitty . . . you’re not. You’re improving. You’re getting better.”

“Are you alright?” Logan asks. “Your eyes are leaking.”

Virgil brushes the leak off of his face. “I’m alright,” he says. “I’m just . . . overwhelmed with emotion. I’ll be okay.”

Logan reaches out and gently brushes some of the leak off Virgil’s face with his fingertips. “I am sorry that I made you leak, Virgil.”

Virgil stammers. “I - uh - you - it - it wasn’t your fault.” He tilts his head, just a little, and presses it into Logan’s hand. The sensation fills Logan with light. “What are you trying to draw?”

“I am not sure. I have not ever tried to create a draw before, and I do not know what I should make. Perhaps I should make you?”

“Wh - you - draw - draw me?”

“Why not? You create beautiful draws of me all the time. It would only be logical to return the favor. If you would prefer that I do not, I can find another subject, but -”

“No! I - uh - that is - you can draw me I don’t mind!” Logan smiles brightly, curling the tip of his tail happily and pulling his hand away from Virgil’s face to pick up his draw stick again.

“It won’t be very good,” he says. “It won’t be as good as your draws of me. But I might be able to make one of you.”

“It’s okay if it’s not perfect,” Virgil says, still pink-faced and staring. “It’s allowed to be shitty. It’s allowed to suck. You’re allowed to do a bad job, you know that, right?”

“But I do not want to do a bad job,” Logan says. “I - I want -” He cuts himself off. He does his best not to voice his concerns, generally speaking, because they tend to be pointless and unresolvable. There is no point in bothering Virgil with his silly inadequacies.

“What?” Virgil says, looking at him. “What do you want, Logan?” His voice is very soft, and when Logan chances a quick glance in his direction he sees that Virgil is smiling softly at him. “You can tell me.”

“There would not be much point in doing so.”

“Are you sure? Even if there’s nothing I can do to actually make you feel better, sometimes just knowing that someone else is there for you can make you feel better. You know?”

“I . . . do not . . . want to bother you,” Logan says, looking down at the table and fiddling with his hands. He startles when he feels someone touch his tail.

“Hey,” Virgil says, gentle. “You’re not bothering me. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know, would I?”

“I suppose not . . .”

“So if I did ask, that must mean that I do want to know, isn’t that right?”

“That would make logical sense, yes.”

“So tell me what you want. Even if I can’t give it to you, I can at least listen.”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “I . . . do not want to do a bad job. You always do such a spectacular job when you make draws of me, and they make me look much more pleasing than I do naturally. I do not want to repay such a favor by creating draws of you that are unflattering. I want to give you something that I can be proud of. I want you to like it, even if you do not like it as much as I like the draws that you make of me. But I will never be able to create something like that. Certainly not today, at any rate, and possibly not ever. And that . . . makes me . . . feel . . . sad . . .”

Virgil reaches out and gently touches his hand. Logan wants to look at him, but keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the blank paper in front of him. “Lo, it - it’s okay.”

“How is it okay?”

“Well, for one thing, I think you’re pretty great looking already. You don’t need my drawings to make you look different or better or anything. Your scales are so cool, you look like the night sky! And as far as the unflattering drawing aspect goes, trust me. You couldn’t possibly create anything that looks any worse than I do on a daily basis. I look like a corpse that the Doc resurrected for the sole purpose of doing grunt work in the lab.”

Virgil snorts, laughing, and Logan finds himself laughing a little too, in spite of himself. “You . . . you do not look like that,” he manages. “I think that you look very nice. And I . . . appreciate what you say in regards to my . . . my scales. That was kind of you to say.”

“Well, it was true, wasn’t it?” Virgil smiles. Logan picks up the draw stick again, frowning at the paper. “You know that you don’t have to draw if you don’t want to, Logan.”

“I do want to,” Logan says, readjusting his hand around the draw stick. “I really do want to try and make a draw for you. I still do not think that it will be very good, but - but will you really be interested to see it no matter what?”

“I really will,” Virgil says. “And I can make a drawing of you while you make one of me. We can swap them afterwards!”

Logan looks up at him and smiles, and when Virgil smiles in response he feels a fresh surge of motivation.

Virgil jumps when the cell phone sitting on the table begins to buzz, rattling back and forth with such force that he snatches it up quickly for fear that it’ll fall to the floor. Logan snaps his head up from where he’s been bent over his sketchpad with intense focus. “What is that?!”

“Just my cell phone, don’t worry about it -”

“What is a cell phone?”

“It’s something that lets me talk to the Doc - hang on - Doc!”

“Virgil? What took you so long? You normally never wait more than two rings before picking up, I was worried something happened!” Thomas jokes.

“Doc, that’s not funny!” Thomas laughs anyway. “I was distracted, okay?”

“By what, the cute merman?”

“Doc! Keep your voice down! Are you coming back from hunting soon?”

“Well, I can’t fit any more fish on this boat, so I guess we are. I - what are you - stop that!”

“Uh . . . Doc?”

There’s a lot of rustling and shouting from the other end of the phone, causing Virgil to hold it away from his ear and squint at it in confusion. Logan looks up from his sketchpad, keeping it tilted towards his chest so that Virgil can’t see it until the drawing is complete. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out what the fuck is happening right now.”

When the commotion from his phone finally dies down, Virgil pulls it back towards his ear. “Hello?”

“Human!”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Let me talk to my brother!”

“Not unless you ask nicely.”

“Human, let me talk to Logan!”

“Not unless you ask nicely. And use my name, for God’s sake!”

There’s a smacking sound from the other end of the line, and the melodic screeching that Virgil has come to recognize as Patton speaking when he’s partially out of the water. “Virgil,” Roman grits out, clearly having been freshly chastised, Can I please talk to Sharkbait?”

“Of course you can, now that you’ve asked me nicely,” Virgil taunts smugly. He sets the phone down on the table and quickly switches it to speaker mode. “Lo, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“Sharkbait!” Roman calls. “Dad and I are done hunting! We caught so much fish for you!”

“Really? Did you find my favorites?” Logan’s eyes light up at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“You bet we did! We caught so many! Don’t worry, we’ll bring plenty of fish home to you!”

Logan smiles, gently touching the cell phone on the table. “I know that you will, Roman. Did you have fun in the open ocean today?”

“Yeah, but hunting’s boring without you here to compete with. Dad doesn’t understand the way we compete to catch the most fish, so it’s not as much fun. Plus, he always wins the races because he’s so much bigger than me, and if I win it’s because he lets me.”

“I am sorry that I left you all alone like that,” Logan says softly. “I promise, I am trying my hardest to get better so that I can come back to the open ocean with you.”

Virgil pretends that the thought of Logan and his pod leaving doesn’t fill him with sadness. “We’re going to go and swim right back now, okay? We’ll see you soon, Sharkbait!”

“I will see you very soon indeed, Roman.”

When Logan hands the phone back to Virgil, he hangs up and slides it into his pocket. He picks up his pencil again, letting the tip rest against the line he’d been in the middle of drawing. It’s the overall curve of Logan’s tail, coiled neatly beneath him as he rests his arms on a haphazard rock pile on the water’s edge. Virgil’s never seen Logan in this position, but he can picture it quite easily.

Against his better judgement, he speaks. “Hey . . . Logan?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“I just . . . I have a question for you.”

“What might that question be?”

“When you get better, you’re going to be able to swim around the open ocean with your pod again, right?”

“That is the goal, yes.”

“So, when that day comes, will . . . will you leave?”

“I do not wish to remain confined to a human lab for the rest of my life, Virgil,” Logan says, raising an eyebrow.

“No, that’s not what I meant! I know you want to get back home to the ocean with your pod, I’d want to go back too if I was in your position. I just wanted to know if . . . if you would ever come back.”

“What do you mean, come back?”

“To visit, I mean.” Virgil’s hand tightens around his pencil. “Would I ever see you again? I know that you want to go back to the ocean where you belong, but I - I dunno, you’re really cool, and I - I wanna see you again. I wanna hang out, even if you’re not here healing. And I could maybe keep teaching you to draw, if you wanted, but - but if you’d rather not, that - I’d understand, but I -”

He cuts his rambling off at the feeling of something resting gently on his knee. He looks up to see Logan, looking at him with a strange sort of intensity. “Would you like that?” Logan asks softly.

“Would I like what?”

“If we came back to visit you. Would that be something that would interest you?”

“I mean, yeah. You’re really cool, and I like hanging out with you. I know that you’re not really super into the whole ‘being-friends-with-humans’ thing, but . . . but I really wanna. Be friends with you, I mean. And you’re super fascinating, not just because I’ve never met a mer before, but because you’re a cool person to be around in general!”

Logan’s cheeks are slightly pink. “You . . . really want to be friends?”

“Yeah?”

“I - I would have to speak to my dad and Roman, of course,” Logan says. “They might not want to spend so much time in such close proximity to humans. But as for me . . . I think that, perhaps, visiting you on occasion would not be . . . the worst thing in the world. If nothing else, I would also like to continue learning to create draws with you.”

He shyly presents the sketchpad he’s been hiding to Virgil. It’s a fairly rudimentary drawing, but there are still several distinct markings that make it easy to tell it’s Virgil. There are carefully marked freckles on the face, with smeared blocks of graphite beneath the drawn and redrawn eyes to symbolize his eyeshadow. His shirt is drawn as baggy, with a weird lump at the back that Virgil suspects is supposed to represent him wearing a hoodie. He’s smiling in the sketch, and there’s a rectangle in one of his hands and a stick in the other.

“Am I . . . holding a drawing pad? And a pencil?”

“It seems that every time I see you, you’re carrying a draw stick and making even more wonderful draws. It seemed only fitting that I put them in my draw of you. Was that the wrong thing to do?"

“No, it was - it was sweet. I’m touched, Lo, really. This drawing is great. I love it”

Logan smiles at him, showing off his sharp, white teeth. Only a week ago, Virgil would have been terrified that he was about to lose a hand. Now, his stomach flutters at the sight of such a joyful smile. “I am glad that you enjoy it, Virgil.”

Before Virgil can respond, there’s a clattering noise from the hallway that leads down to the ocean. “Oh! Doc and your pod must be back from hunting already! I’ll go help him get your dad and Roman and all the fish back into this room. Will you be okay here on your own?”

“I think I will manage,” Logan says. “Oh, and, um, Virgil?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for everything. I truly appreciate it, from the bottom of my heart. It was thanks to you that I did not die on that beach when the net washed me ashore, and it was thanks to you that I was reunited with my pod again. I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done for me.”

Before Virgil can stop himself, he reaches out and gently touches the top of Logan’s head. His hair is slightly damp, and coarse from centuries of salt water exposure. Logan’s eyes blow wide, and his mouth drops open in a small “o” shape. “It’s no problem, Logan, really. I was happy to help.”

“Oh,” Logan manages, cheeks flushing scarlet.

Virgil flashes a quick smile at him before pulling his hand back like he’s been burned and all but sprinting down the hallway. He turns the corner so fast that he nearly slips and falls, bracing himself against the hard concrete wall.

“Hey there, Vee,” Thomas calls, tying a rowboat overflowing with freshly caught fish to the small dock. Roman twists up out of the water and flops “elegantly” onto the dock. Virgil can see a large, dark shape swirling around in the water that he assumes must be Patton.

“Hey, Doc. You guys get a good haul today?”

“So much,” Roman brags, bristling his spines and grinning. “Almost half of this was me!”

“That’s a lie and you know it, three-quarters of the work was Patton,” Thomas says. There’s a melodic shriek from the water, as though agreeing with Thomas, and Roman pouts. “Anyway, Vee, I figure we can take the mer into the lab first and then come back for the fish?”

“No, take the fish first,” Roman instructs.

“Bossy,” Virgil says, crossing his arms. “Why do we need to take the fish back first, anyway?”

“Because Dad and I both ate a little while we were out hunting, but Sharkbait hasn’t eaten anything all day. He must be starving,” Roman says, eyes suddenly serious. Despite his initial misgivings, Virgil can’t help but be touched by Roman’s concern for his younger brother. “Make sure he gets fed, and then you can bring Dad and I into the lab. He’ll be alright waiting to see us for a little while longer, but he needs to eat.”

“Yeah, that does make sense . . . I brought the cart because I assumed we’d be yeeting you into it, but we can throw your fish in instead.”

Roman tilts his head, looking like a lost puppy. “What is a ‘yeeting’? Is that a weird human word?”

Thomas laughs so hard that he nearly over-balances and falls off the dock. A large hand shoots up and braces itself against the small of Thomas’s back, pushing him back up onto the dock. He stumbles forward a little, throwing his arms out, and turns around to look at the water in shock. The arm extended has fingers tipped with sharp claws, but when Virgil frantically runs over to check on his mentor, he sees that his coat is barely scratched.

“Doc! Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay, Virgil, don’t worry. Patton caught me! Thank you, Patton!” Thomas calls. The arm waves a little before sinking back beneath the water. Virgil sighs, going back for the cart and wheeling it over.

“Let’s get this over with . . .”

It takes them almost ten whole minutes to load the majority of the catch into Virgil’s cart. They end up with about three-quarters in the cart before it’s full. “I guess we’re making a second trip?”

“Don’t bother,” Roman says, swishing his tail lazily. “Dad and I will eat what’s left here, and then when you come back we’ll go with you to the lab where Sharkbait is.”

“Are you really gonna be able to eat all this in the time that it takes us to take this cart to the lab and back?” Virgil asks. Roman grins, baring his own set of gleaming fangs. Unlike earlier with Logan, however, Virgil feels a shiver of fear run through him.

“Don’t doubt our appetites, Virgil. We’ll be done in no time.”

Virgil grips the handle of the cart tightly and leans his entire body weight into it. It takes him a few tries to get the heavily-laden thing going, but once he builds up a little momentum he’s able to struggle down the hallway. He hears Thomas talking to the other mer, but he focuses on getting back into the lab.

Logan looks up from his sketchpad, sniffing the air eagerly. “Food?”

“Yep!” Virgil grunts. “Your pod caught a whoooooole bunch of stuff, and it’s for you!” He finally gets the cart into position near the lab table, kicking at the brakes to engage them and lock the wheels. “Lemme take your sketchpad and stuff so that they don’t get messy while you eat.”

Logan appears vaguely offended at the idea of being a “messy eater,” but he gets over himself quickly when Virgil swaps his sketchpad and pencil for a fish. He eagerly sinks his teeth into the side, and Virgil quickly turns away. “I’ll be back!”

He puts the sketchbook and pencil down on a clean table and grabs another cart, wheeling it back to the little grotto. “Hey, Doc, how are we filling this thing with seawater? Do I have to go get the pump, too?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Roman says, waving a hand dismissively. “Dad can do it. Hang on -”

He shoves his head under the water and says something in the mer language to Patton. Virgil jumps back in shock as a column of water rises up from the ocean, pouring neatly into the cart. As it nears the top, he frantically cuts in, “That’s good! That’s enough!” Roman sticks his head underwater again, and the column tapers off. “Thank you, Patton. I didn’t know you had that much control over the ocean. Do all mer have that?”

“Just Dad,” Roman says. “He’s an elder mer, so he’s been around forever. He’s got all kinds of weird fun tricks under his fins!” Virgil wonders if that’s the mer version of “having tricks up your sleeve.”

“Who’s going in the cart first, you or your dad?” Thomas asks. Roman opens his mouth to answer, but he’s cut off by a terrified scream echoing from the lab.

“Was that -”

“Sharkbait!” Roman bristles all of his spines at once, teeth baring, pupils shrinking to slits. “That was Logan, what did you do to him - ”

“Nothing! I left him on one of the tables eating fish, he was fine when I left! I promise!” Virgil says. Roman throws himself into the cart, tail swishing awkwardly until he finally shoves his head up above the water.

“Take me in there, now! I have to know what happened to him!”

“How are we going to get Patton in there if you’re in the cart?!”

“Good point . . . carry me!” Roman sticks his arms up, and if the situation wasn’t so dire Virgil would think it was funny that he was asking to be carried like a petulant child.

“Put your fucking spines down first, I’m not getting poisoned today!”

“I’m worried about Logan, this is as flat as I can get them!”

Logan screams again, and Roman’s spines bristle uncontrollably before he very visibly forces them to flatten a little. Virgil thanks his lucky stars that he’s wearing a particularly thick jacket today and hoists Roman into his arms.

“Go!” Thomas says. “I’ll get Patton!”

Virgil takes off down the hallway as fast as he dares to go while carrying a mer who’s dripping seawater all over the floor and also not the lightest thing in the world. He isn’t sure what he’s going to see when he makes it into the lab, but he’s steeling his nerves. He’ll be prepared for whatever it is. He’ll handle it, or the doc will handle it, and everything will be okay.

When he bursts into the lab, he nearly drops Roman in shock. “L - Logan?!”

“Sharkbait?!”

Logan looks at them in terror from the lab table, shifting around so they can very clearly see the very human legs that have completely replaced his long, elegant tail.

“What’s happening to me?!”

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aiorevelations · 3 years

Text

A Number, Not a Name part 12!

Chapter 12: Child of Pain

5 years earlier:

Liana quietly made her way down the hall, careful not to alert anyone of her presence. Her eyes rested on her bedroom door at the end of the hall yet the images that flashed before her were of earlier that day - when the love of her life was taken from her. She stared down at her dress. The blood splattered across the yellow fabric had now darkened from a bright red to a reddish-brown hue. She bit her lip as she struggled to hold back her sobs. Just this morning she had been filled with so much hope and joy for the future and now it felt as though her heart had been ripped out and torn into a million pieces. There were no words that could capture and describe her anguish and despair. As she came closer to her room Liana heard a voice coming from one of the rooms off the hallway. She stopped and realized that it was her Father’s voice coming from his office. She inched closer to the door and silently peered into the room. She saw him sitting at his desk, talking in a rather hushed tone on the phone.

“It’s been taken care of” Norvan spoke into the phone. He listened to the response from the man on the other end of the line. Once he was finished responding, Norvan spoke again. “It’s a shame Erik couldn’t be persuaded to join our cause. He had all the makings of a remarkable leader. Tsk tsk. Such a waste…Until later….Goodbye Dalmar.”

Liana stood there in shock, her face ashen white. Try as she might, she couldn’t comprehend what she’d just heard. She hardly dared dwell on the thought yet it couldn’t escape her, Her father’s words echoed in her mind. It’s a shame Erik couldn’t be persuaded to join our cause. He had all the makings of a remarkable leader…Such a waste. Had her father been behind his death, him and this “Dalmar” person. Even though she was scared to learn the answer she knew she had to find out no matter what it took.

…..

Present-day - Hours Earlier:

Milena sat in her Father’s office chair holding the photograph of him and her that graced the desk. This evening her thoughts had been on a multitude of things. Her father. Her life. But especially on tomorrow night. Everything she had worked for had led to this moment. If things went according to plan her goal would be within reach. Only a few months ago she thought her dream would never be a possibility, now it was nearly reality. She glanced from the photo to the gun and knife strapped to her hip. Her life, who she had become, in some weird way, captured in a single frame. Before such a sight would have frightened her. But now her heart did not even race slightly at the image. If she was honest to herself this was not how she imagined her life but the one thing it gave her, that she wanted more than anything, was control. Growing up she never had any. Over her mother dying. Over her sister leaving. Over her father being taken from her. But now she did. She was the one who dealt out the cards. Who held the fate of not only herself but for others as well.

Milena heard a knock come from the front door. She sat up and made her way to the entrance of her family home. She opened the door and found Elias standing there. “Well, this is a surprise. Not sure which type though.” She sassed.

“Nice to see you’re in a good mood” he responded sarcastically.

She held the door open for him. “Come in.” Elias walked into the house into the parlor and Milena shut the door behind him. She turned to him and crossed her arms “What’s up?”

Elias feigned confusion. “What’s up?” He repeated.

“Oh please.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re forgetting how much we’ve worked together over the past couple of months. I know that look you get when you want to talk. So get to it.”

He sighed. “I've been thinking about this plan and I don’t know if we should go through with it. I recognize the opportunity that this is but in my experience I’ve found it best to carefully consider every step I take.”

“I have thought about this. Many times in fact. And every time I come back to the same conclusion. Our entire plan hinges on making sure our targets are brought in. We do that, we’re home free.”

Elias held up his hand. “I agree. But perhaps this isn’t the best way to go about it. This whole deal with the Avagyan brothers. I just feel the fewer people involved in this whole thing the better.”

“Fine.” Milena stretched out her arms exasperatedly. “You want to grab some NSA agents off the street, go right ahead. Be my guest.” She pointed at herself. “I for one am sure not going to do something so stupid! Especially after all the time and effort, I’ve put into getting here. This is what the last months have been about. Getting right here. Taking Dalmar down. Carrying on where my father left off.”

“I know. This is why I strongly believe you should reconsider this. You said it yourself, we know who the actual players are in this game—”

“Exactly! This is why I’m not going to let Dalmar slip through my fingers or do something to screw it up. Now I’m almost certain we could take them ourselves but what if something were to happen? What if word got around about those responsible? I’m sure as heck am not getting charged for attempting to kidnap two agents. The less they have on us, the better. Besides, your ledger is already full enough.”

“You know one could say the same about yours soon enough.”

She stared intently at him and swallowed hard. “Believe me. I know.”

…..

15 years earlier:

Liana lay on the foam of the black interlocking mat, struggling to escape the forearm held to her neck. She locked her legs behind the girl’s back and strained to lift her hips. Inch by inch she struggled to raise herself off the ground. She was utterly exhausted and felt as if her entire body was on fire. Try as she might to push her assailant off she knew she didn’t have enough strength left. Finally, her body gave way and she collapsed to the floor. The other girl pushed more firmly against Liana forcing her into submission. After a few seconds, Milena lifted her foreman and stood up.

The Krav Maga instructor walked towards the two girls and spoke. “Alright. That’s enough for today. Great job girls! You're getting better every single lesson. I can clearly see your impro—”

Norvan walked towards the instructor and interjected, “Let them go another round. Liana needs the practice.”

“They already have. Six more in fact by your insistence. You can see they’re exhausted. I'm sure I don’t need to explain how the more tired you are, the greater your chances are for injury.”

“Fine.” He relented, “We’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Until Tuesday then.”

He looked at his daughters, “Grab your things. Let’s go.”

Liana and Milena walked to the side of the room to grab their backpacks. “Are you okay?” Milena asked as she slid her backpack on.

“I’m fine. Nowhere near as good as you though.” She responded without looking at her older sister.

“Hey.” Milena lightly touched her little sister’s arm. Liana looked up at her. “You did great…besides, I've been practicing longer than you have. A few more lessons and I’m sure you’ll catch me in no time.”

“Thanks.” She smiled.

“Best get over to Dad. You know how much he hates it when we’re late.” She said as she began walking towards him.

“Yeah…I know how much he hates…” Liana sadly whispered to herself. She quickly picked up her bag and made her way over to her Dad and sister. The three of them exited the martial arts school.

“Milena, do you mind taking your and your sister’s bags to the car?” Norvan asked. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Sure,” Milena responded. Milena took the bag from her sister and started walking towards the car. Once Milena had rounded the corner of the building Norvan slapped Liana across her face.

Liana didn’t even wince or cry. She didn’t even take a step back from him. For her, her Father’s abuse and beratement were as normal as breathing. They simply were a constant part of her life, a part her father took great effort to conceal from others.

“What the heck was that?! Every time we come here you look more pathetic!”

“I’m sorry. I tried my be—”

“Your best.” He spat “You know what the difference is between you and your sister?!!!”

Liana stood there silently, wondering whether or not to answer. She felt her father’s hand once again strike her across the face.

“I…I don’t…” she stammered.

“She’s not an imbecile” he leaned down and stared directly into her eyes. “Like you.”

Liana shuddered and bit her lip to keep a sob from escaping. Norvan straightened up and grabbed her hand. “Come on.” He yanked her hand and pulled her alongside him down the sidewalk. Liana glanced to the right and saw an ice cream shop across the street. She saw a father and daughter sitting at a table outside the shop, laughing and giggling together as they ate their ice cream cones. Smiling. Giggling. With Dad. That life, that picture, couldn’t be further from her world. She looked back up at her father as he tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her towards the car.

…..

Present-day:

Liana sat on the edge of her couch, an old photo album placed on the table in front of her. Her eyes intently looked at each one of the photos, thinking back to the moment each image was taken, moments forever frozen in time. She turned the page of the photo album and saw two pages filled with photos of her and her sister. She ran her fingers over the images. In some ways, those times seemed like yesterday and at the same time like a lifetime ago. One was an image of them having one of their “famous” tea parties. One was of them dressed as princesses. And another captured the two of them holding on to each, laughing hysterically. They hadn’t had much to laugh about back then yet strangely enough she couldn’t recall what had resulted in such a display of laughter from her and Milena.

Liana snapped out of her reverie as she heard a knock at the door. She stood up from the couch, made her way to the front door, and opened it.

“Hi, Mrs. Agassi.”

“Hello, Ms. Vardyan. I brought over some of your mail.”

“Thank you. You can set it on the kitchen table.” She held the door open wider for Mrs. Agassi.

Mrs. Agassi entered the apartment. “I was over in the mailroom and saw your box. My, it was overflowing.” She set the letters and packages down on the tabletop. “Thought it best to come over and give it to you before someone leaves another one-star review because of the property’s ‘lack of neatness or cleanliness.’”

“Thank you. I have been rather busy lately.”

“Think nothing of it doll. I saw you get back in a little bit ago. I just got back myself from one of Dalmar’s rallies.”

“Really? What was it like?” Liana feigned ignorance.

“It was quite something. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. The hall was full of his avid supporters.”

As Mrs. Agassi spoke images of the rally earlier that night, Dalmar on stage, the throngs of people, the cheers echoing from the crowd, flashed in Liana’s mind. She crossed her arms. “And what do you make of him?”

“When it comes to my judgment of men, you should know I’m no expert. Just look at my relationship history.” Mrs. Agassi laughed. “But in my experience, these up-start politicians are usually in it for their own gain. The only one who seemed to actually care for the people of Krudia was Erik.”

Liana swallowed hard as she heard his name. “Erik…Erik Davtyan?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Agassi sighed. “He seemed so genuine and real. He was so bright. So charismatic. A natural-born leader. It was a dark day when he….” She trailed off. “I along with many others believed he was this country’s hope. Its future. It’s a shame that we couldn’t see what he’d become.”

“Yeah. It is.” Liana willed herself to keep her composure.

Mrs. Agassi noticed the old photo album laid across the coffee table. “Reminiscing?” she smiled.

“Something like that.”

Mrs. Agassi walked over to the table and picked up the photo album that lay on top. “I don’t believe I've seen these photos of you.”

“I found the album in a box with some of my old things.”

“You never know when you will stumble on something from your past. Heck, I still find some of my ex-husband's argyle socks all the time. And we’ve been divorced for ten years now.” She laughed.

Liana forced a light chuckle.

“So who’s the girl in these pictures with you? She looks a lot like you.” Mrs. Agassi asked as she looked down at the photos again.

“My sister.”

“Your sister huh? I don’t believe you’ve mentioned her before.”

“I guess it just never came up,” Liana replied coolly.

Mrs. Agassi placed the photo album back on the coffee table. “Are you two close? Do you keep in touch often?”

Liana tried to find the words. “Um..we…” she sighed. “It’s one of those things. You know.”

Mrs. Agassi, sensing that Liana did not want to speak further on the subject, decided not to press her anymore. Something that she was not inclined to do as she was a very curious woman.

“Well, I best be going. Apparently, Mr. Balian is having more trouble with his plumbing. I keep telling him it’s that cookie dough his wife makes but hey what do I know.”

Liana gave a slight smile. Mrs. Agassi then made her way to the door and left the apartment. After closing the door behind her landlady Liana went back to sit on the couch. Her eyes once again drifted downward to look at the old photographs.

It was the first time in years she had mentioned her sister to anyone. Truth be told she tried her best not to even think of her, let alone mention her. They had been close at first growing up, but over time had drifted apart. Try as she might, it was impossible to forget that because of her, she was never good enough for their father. After all, how could anyone, let alone a girl like her, ever compare and live up to Milena - the epitome of what a daughter should be. Everything she did she excelled at. She was just like their father as he would so often remind the both of them. While she was the complete opposite. Never excelling in anything she did no matter how hard she tried, always the object of her Father’s disappointment and rejection. Worst of all her mother had died while giving birth to her - something which her dad had never forgiven her for. She couldn’t recall how many times he told her to her face that it was her fault her mother was dead. That she had killed her. Due to this, she had been forced to endure her father’s anger and abuse for years. Suffering silently. Praying that it would end. But it never did. Out of all the hurt and pain her father had inflicted on her, nothing could ever compare to him cruelly taking Erik from her life. Only when she left home, and in doing so also Milena, did her torment at his hands finally end. But still, she was left with the trauma and emotional scars he had caused and consuming anger towards him for all that he had done. No matter how hard she tried not to be she was also angry and bitter at her sister for being the perfect daughter. For being an unattainable standard she was forced to measure up to and become. Still, she didn’t wish upon or take any pleasure in causing Milena pain or grief. Deep down she still loved Milena and shared a bond with her that would never fully be broken. She wished, with all her heart, that things didn’t have to be this way between them but they did. Their father had decided that a long time ago.

#aio fanfic #adventures in odyssey #adventures in odyssey fanfiction #adventures in odyssey fanfic #aio fanfiction #jason whittaker #tasha forbes

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a-bugz-life · 4 years

Text

Fuckin’ Amphibians || Anita & Nicodemus

TIMING: A few days ago. PARTIES: @professoranieves and @bountybossier SUMMARY: Anita and Nic are both out in the forest when they run across some Ballogbogs. Things get a bit psychedelic.

Anita had lived in White Crest for almost five years now. When she first arrived, she knew of a handful of supernatural beings, but her worldview expanded exponentially even within the first few months of living here. It didn’t hurt that she spent a lot of her time in the woods, mostly for the bugs partially for the isolation. But even in her years of experience, she apparently still had more to learn. In her exploring, she found herself near a small pond out in the forest. Perfect place for some interesting breeds of bugs. But then she saw them, very large and very gross looking toads. She didn’t think much of it, toads love bugs too. But as she drew closer to the pond she noticed one of the toads puff up, and then shoot something at her. “Shit, shit…” She groaned, as she tried to run before it hit her. But she wasn’t so successful. Initially she didn’t feel much of anything, and thought for a second maybe she was immune to whatever this was. But then the leaves on the trees began turning pink? And the ground began to slowly melt under her feet? No, something wasn’t quite right.

The place farthest away from the lake was the woods on damn near the other side of town. In between trying to figure out any thing that might help deal with the fucking squid, Nicodemus went about business as usual. Took up a job and saw it to completion. Traditionally, he wasn’t picky about jobs that demanded a bounty dead or alive. He took whichever. But lately, he wasn’t in the mind for killing. Just a catch and release to the shadow paying him. The task of catching a handful of fatflitters was just mundane enough that he didn’t expect to be bothered too much. The hunter tapped his fingers against his thumb as he walked, a small perforated cage in his other hand. The things were quick and liked their fatty tissue, so it was just a matter of finding the right tracks of a larger creature and hoping the quick shits were on it. The croak of toads sounded loudly to his left and he briefly looked over in that direction. Over the sound of toads, a voice. A voice that sounded a hell of a lot more bothered than he did. The hunter considered just keeping on the way he was and even as he did, he was already heading over to the noise. As he drew closer and his night vision made out the shape of a person, he looked over at the pond. Oh hell. Fucking ballybogs. They didn’t like when anyone got too close to their little domains. And it looked like the stranger had found that out. He cleared his throat to try and get her attention. “You, uh, you good?”

For a split second Anita thought she saw a person approaching, but it quickly became clear to her that this was no person, but rather a very tall and mobile ice cream cone. Interesting. It was rocky road, which wasn’t her favorite flavor. No pun intended but she really wasn’t a fan of nuts. But then the strangest thing happened, the ice cream spoke to her? No that couldn’t be. She slowly got closer to it, trying to figure out if maybe someone was just standing behind it? But no, just one singular cone of ice. “You can talk?” She asked, the disbelief thick in her voice. She sat down on the ground in front of the ice cream and dropped her head into her hands. “This ice cream cannot talk to me. This ice cream cannot talk to me.” She whispered, then rubbed her eyes and looked back up. “Fuck.” It was still an ice cream cone.

She was looking at him like she wasn’t really seeing him. Nicodemus squinted. Ballybogs made homes out of the swamps he grew up in and he had seen people when they got hit by their shit. Woodstock had nothing on what ballybog crap could do to a person. Once, a few years ago, not even he had escaped it and he was stuck trying to hop into the Mystery Machine that had just been a hollow log. The shame of that still haunted him sometimes. Fucking Scrappy Doo. “Yeah, I can talk,” he answered with a sigh. Damn it. He just wanted to find some damn fatflitters. Not this mess. When she sat down, he stepped back and put a hand on his hip. Oh hell. “This, uh, ice cream is fuckin’ talking to you. That’s me, one big damn waffle cone.” Alright, so she was seeing him as an ice cream cone. Maybe she wouldn’t feel like attacking him. He glanced down at her. “And I might be able to waffle us the fuck outta here.”

Anita was shocked when the guy? Yeah, sounded like a guy, seemed to respond to her delusions … and knew that he was a waffle cone? Anita stood up, eyeing the frosty treat with delicate suspicion. But it was almost as though the moment that he acknowledged that he was in fact a waffle cone, things began to shift. Anita began to hear odd voices coming from all around her in the forest. They weren’t speaking any language she understood, but something told her they were not nice voices. Suddenly, the nice ice cream cone began to melt, causing large puddles of melted chocolate ice cream. “Oh no.. oh my god… here let me help.” Anita tried to scoop up the puddles of ice cream and put it all back into the cone. “We can’t get out of here until I fix you… I can’t just leave you here for them to get you.”

Her eyes, large and confused, were directly on him and Nicodemus couldn’t help but feel a little scrutinized. Waffle cone or not. Jesus, he was starting to refer to himself as a waffle cone. Maybe he had been hit too. When she started to try and put dead leaves, plus bits of grass on him, he decidedly was not feeling like a waffle cone. “Alright, no need to go and do that,” he asserted as he took a step back. “Think you’re the one needin’ help here.” Surely someone else would come along and help. People in town had a habit of running headlong into shit every day. As he waited for a beat, a ballybog croak answered him. Fuck. He was the person that had run headlong into shit. And she had too. “Let’s get the hell on outta here, huh? I think somethin’ nearby is causin’ me to--fuckin’ Christ--melt my ice creamy bits all over the place.” He winced and shook his head. He was a hunter, for fucks sake. With a reserved expression, he offered a weathered hand. “Name’s Nic, alright? Let’s get on away from the fuckin’ acid trip frogs.”

Anita had been ignoring his claim that he didn’t need help getting all of the ice cream back into his cone, largely because that was just insane? Why wouldn’t a giant cone of ice cream want all of it’s contents securely inside of itself before running off? But then he finally offered a real reason. He was melting because of something nearby! Of course! Quickly, she stood up and stopped scooping up the ice cream melted in giant sticky puddles on the ground around them. Anita reached out to take the cone’s hand, finding it a bit odd that he had hands to begin with. “Nic the Ice Cream Man.” She repeated, clearly making up those last three words herself. His comment about frogs threw her for a loop. She had heard stories about supernatural frogs. As she was just about to open her mouth and say something, she saw all of the ice cream quickly melt away from Nic and the cone break off into a million tiny pieces. That’s when she realized that he really wasn’t an ice cream man… he had been a giant toad in disguise all along. She let out a soft scream, then quickly pulled her hand away from him. “You! You’re the acid trip frog!” Without paying much attention to where she was going, she began to slowly back away from him.

Nicodemus breathed in sharply through his nose, thankful as hell that she had stopped trying to help get his ice cream back together. Jesus, he was already in too deep with the ice cream bit. It was too much and he can feel a nerve pulsing somewhere near his temple. He shook her hand a bit stiffly. “Just, uh, Nic works,” he said. “The...Ice Cream Man is my father?” Whoever the hell that was. He had never met the poor bastard. And just when it had all been going so well, she looked at him like he was coming apart at the seams. Hell, he just might have been. Ballybogs spat serious shit and she had been hit with it. His hand clenched by his side before it came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. She was backpedaling towards the ballybogs again and he could see the damn things puffing up. He moved toward her and attempted to act as a buffer between. Like a dumbass would. “No. Nope, I’m not the acid trip fr--Oh fuck.” The ballybogs spat and Nicodemus blocked his hand with his face. He blinked twice, squeezed them shut, then opened his eyes to see his hands melting. His ice creamy hands with weirdly frog-like fingers but hey, he had been born with those. He stared at them for what felt like a century. “I...I think I am the ice cream frog,” he said as he looked at her. “And we gotta get out of my fuckin’ swamp.”

As the giant ice cream began to move towards Anita, she began to panic. How was she going to get out of here? She didn’t even know where here was anymore. Had she hiked here? Was her car nearby? Could she even drive like this? Unlikely. She heard a faint noise from beside her and while it took her a moment to place it, she eventually recognized it. Amphibians. And this ice cream frog was likely their king. Of course the dumb fucking amphibians still had a monarcy system. Reptiles had evolved beyond that need of hierarchy. “If you’re the ice cream frog… can’t you just make them stop! They’ll listen to you. Amphibians are really dumb.”

“Reckon they want us to move away from the party we weren’t invited to,” Nicodemus said as if it were obvious and it was. He could understand them. He splayed his hands out to his side, ice cream and all, in a sign of submission. They could respect that. “Partners. Fellas. We’re just gonna hit the, uh, old dusty trail now as it were. Didn’t mean to bother you fine folks this evenin’.” He made a sound as close to a frog as he could before he turned on his heel and took to walking away. He turned his head toward the stranger and spoke in a stage whisper. “They might not be bright but they like bein’ respected. Let’s just go on elsewhere.”

Anita watched the frog’s leader try to talk them down, finding the level of kindness he was showing them to be more than a bit annoying. In fact she might have rolled her eyes at his big performance, or maybe she just thought about rolling her eyes and actually didn’t move at all? It was really hard to tell. So she tried again, feeling pretty confident that she did this time roll her eyes and not just roll her head around in a circular motion. “Of course they’re not bright,” Anita quickly replied, not bothering to follow suit and speak in a whisper. “Why would I want to go anywhere with you? You’re like their leader or something stupid.” Despite her resistance, Anita followed this strange somewhat suave smooth-speaking ice cream man. At least wherever he was going was away from here, and away from those fucking frogs.

#wickedswriting #fuckin amphibans #chatzy #nic #chatzy:nic #//did we start this 6 months ago???? yes #//did we finish it today????? yes #pls enjoy

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hood-ex · 4 years

Note

For the post about plot bunnies for short fic about Dick and Jason! 1) Dick and Jason going train-surfing before his death and after his return. 2) 1st time one of them got the other a birthday gift. 3) Jason finding out that Dick was the one who finally took down the memorial case in the Batcave and realizing his brother hated that thing as much as he did. 4) Bonding over ranting about Dad. 5) Jason lowkey trying to get Dick and Kory back together cuz he shipped them hard when he was younger.

@bigskydreaming These are all great prompts! I decided to take a whack at #2. I might write for some of the other prompts though. Anyways, hope what I wrote is somewhat satisfying lmao.

Link to read on AO3

Jason’s so glad the 250 pound goon he was fighting earlier decided to leave him with a brand new spankin’ set of bruised ribs. Really, truly, he shouldn’t have given Jason such a nice gift for his birthday. The goon should’ve been embarrassed though. Giving Jason the same gift his dad used to give him? Tsk, tsk. Tactless.

Jason sucks in air through his teeth, mentally preparing himself for the pain, and then tries to sit up. He barely raises himself up three inches before sharp pain shoots up his torso and forces him to thunk back against the rooftop floor. Yeah, okay, he really doesn’t want to try that again.

This is just great.

He sighs. There’s nothing that says happy birthday quite like staring up at the smog that keeps him from seeing any of the stars he’d normally wish on or the fact that he’s probably lying on heaps of bird shit. Alfie is definitely going to give him the stink eye for the latter.

A shadow crosses over the corner of the rooftop. It doesn’t look distinctly Batman shaped.

Jason tenses and reaches for the smoke pellet in his belt. Normally he chooses fight over flight, but he doesn’t want to take any chances with his ribs this time. Creating a distraction and then using whatever adrenaline he can muster to get the hell away is probably the smartest decision. That’s what Batman would say, anyways.

Whoever is creeping around is being way too quiet. Goons don’t usually bother being quiet around Jason. They just see him as a small kid in a costume. An easy target. The whole Robin getup is good for creating that kind of misconception.

“Hey, shorty,” a somewhat familiar voice drawls right before a guy in a blue costume flips into Jason’s view.

Black hair. Plunging neckline. A collar somewhat akin to the cone of shame.

Nightwing.

Jason relaxes his muscles, relieved, and stares at Dick in surprise.

Dick’s got a big stupid grin on his face. The niceness of it is what throws Jason off. He’s still not used to people smiling at him and shit. He’s used to grins that are meant for mocking or that are sleazy and spell trouble. Dick Grayson’s grin is none of those things. His is all playful and good-intentioned. Something about it feels safe, and safe’s not something Jason feels a lot outside of the manor.

“Hey, Old-Timer,” Jason says, “fancy seeing you here.”

He suddenly remembers how much his ribs hurt when he tries to sit up again to see Dick better. He can’t help the small sound of pain he lets out as he settles back into his original position. God, bruised ribs are such a bitch.

Jason can’t see Dick’s eyes because of his mask, but he just knows Dick is looking him over from head to toe, mind probably tripping over itself to analyze Jason’s situation.

“You good?” Dick asks, already kneeling by Jason’s side.

“Oh, totally,” Jason says. He tries to adjust his position without hurting himself more. “Sometimes I just come up here by myself to stare at the smog. Just contemplating the rampant amount of pollution in the city—ow fuck. I don’t know if Bruce told you, but I’m an environmentalist first and Robin second. I’ve always been that way. Since the womb.”

Dick frowns and presses his fingers against Jason’s pulse point. “Have you been drugged?”

Jason smacks Dick’s hand away. “No, I haven’t been drugged! I got my ribs busted by some Hulk Hogan wannabe.”

“Ouch,” Dick winces in sympathy. “Been there, felt that.”

“Yeah, well, how about you give me a hand so I can stop rolling around in bird shit.”

The worried furrow in Dick’s brow melts away and is replaced by an amused grin. God, Jason needs to learn how to become immune to Dick’s stupidly genuine face. It’s stuff like that that makes it easy for Jason to see why Bruce has such a hard time letting Dick go. And if he’s honest with himself, he’s a little bit jealous that Dick can warm people over so easily. If Dick is the gooey middle of a s’more then Jason is the hard-coated graham cracker that takes a little time to chew through.

“I’m going to lift you up a bit and then I’m going to come under your arm so you can stand up, capeesh?” Dick says, moving just beside Jason’s right shoulder.

“Capeesh?” Jason grunts in pain as Dick levers him upwards. “Who are you? Uncle Jesse?”

While Jason’s torso is off the ground, Dick positions himself under Jason’s right arm and then quickly, but gently, helps Jason onto his feet. Jason squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths while he waits for the pain to calm down.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” Dick assures him softly, draping his arm over Jason’s shoulders.

If anyone asks, Jason totally does not lean into Dick for support, he does not. He just. Trips. Into Dick’s side. Yup. That’s what happens. The bird shit is witness to it.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you that I got you a birthday present?” Dick asks suddenly, taking Jason off guard.

“Birthday present? What birthday present? How did you know today’s my birthday?” Jason demands, leaning closer to Dick’s face so he can stare into Dick’s… eyelets.

Dick places a finger on Jason’s forehead and gently shoves him backward.

“O ye of little faith. Give me some credit. You think your big bro doesn’t know when your birthday is?”

Jason stares at him with a knowing look.

“Alfie told you, didn’t he?”

Even though he meant it lightheartedly, he’s a little surprised to see how Dick’s mouth tightens into a frown.

“B sure as hell didn’t,” Dick grouches in a tone Jason’s come to associate with Dick and Bruce’s yelling matches.

“Yeah,” Jason drawls, “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

Dick’s expression levels back into a neutral look. “Right, yeah.” He gives Jason’s shoulder a squeeze as a silent apology. “So do you want your gift or not?”

Thank God for Dick’s ability to smoothly change the subject.

“You know you’re not supposed to ask stupid questions in the field,” Jason says in mock horror. Dick makes a bitch face at him and Jason cackles. “Too bad Poison Ivy isn’t around to give you some aloe for that sick burn!”

Dick stares at him before walking towards the edge of the roof.

“Wait!” Jason says, quickly snagging Dick by the wrist. His ribs only scream a little bit, but honestly, who’s paying attention to that kind of thing when the person with his present is about to disappear into the night. “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll stop being a brat. Although, for the record, you’re an asshole for even pretending to leave me all alone with my busted ribs.”

Dick’s stupid grin makes a reappearance.

“An asshole and a brat walk into a bar—”

“Shut up,” Jason says, shoving Dick away from him. “Are you going to make me stand up here for eternity or can we get to the whole gift-giving thing.”

Jason’s not sure what he expects the gift to be. From what he knows, Dick’s not exactly rolling in money, so he doesn’t expect it to be something as extravagant as what he received earlier in the day. Alfred gave him six new books and also made him a buffet of breakfast food. Then Bruce had given him a new bookcase for his room, an insanely gaudy watch Jason doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do with, and an entire set of baseball equipment for him to play with in the yard.

Compared to his other birthdays, the gifts he got this year are almost too much to comprehend. Hell, the price of the watch alone will probably be enough to put him through college. The gifts are nice but… overwhelming. Honestly, Jason doesn’t think he deserves shit that nice. It’s not like he can refuse them, though. It’ll make him sound like an ungrateful little snot, and Jason doesn’t want to give Bruce that impression at all.

“I’ve only been in your room once,” Dick says as he pops open a compartment on his glove, “and I saw a Poison Idea poster over your bed. So—” he brandishes two blue rectangular pieces of paper in front of Jason.

Eyes wide, Jason snatches them from Dick’s hand. “Holy shit—”

“I got you two tickets to their concert,” Dick finishes with a smile.

Jason stares at the tickets and reads the print on them over and over again. Hands shaking, he throws his arms above his head, ignoring the sharp pain it causes.

“Shut the fuck up! No way! No waaay, dude!” he chatters. He grabs onto Dick’s arm and shakes it in excitement. “You’re not allowed to be this cool! Dude, what? Are these real?”

Dick’s sudden laughter only fuels more excitement in Jason’s chest. He shoves at Dick again.

“Don’t even tell me these are good seats, dude. Like. These are nosebleed seats or something, right?”

“Nosebleed?” Dick squawks indignantly. “These are VIP tickets! You get access to the venue before general admission and you get to meet the band backstage.”

“What!” Jason yells, genuinely shaking now. “Di—Nightwing! Are you serious?”

Dick laughs again and grabs onto Jason’s shoulders to squeeze them. “Yes, I am completely serious.”

There’s a feeling in Jason’s chest that he’s not sure how to describe. It’s a weird mixture of excitement and gratitude and… awe. It’s something he only feels rarely. Kind of like the first time he went out as Robin or like the time he got to work with the Titans. Special moments like that.

Jason reads the print on the tickets one last time, unwilling to vocalize just how touched he is that Dick’s given him such a personalized gift. He didn’t expect to get anything from Dick at all. Hell, he didn’t even expect a phone call, knowing how busy Dick is. And now that Dick’s given him one of his favorite gifts he’s ever gotten, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Doesn’t know how to act.

All he can think of is to extend his fist and to blurt out a quick, “Thanks.”

Luckily for him, Dick’s had a lot of time to adapt to emotionally inept people. Dick extends his own fist and bumps it against Jason’s.

“No problem. Happy birthday, Little Wing.”

Notes:

I don’t know if any of you have ever hurt your ribs before, but I’ve bruised mine, and trying to move was a bitch. My mom had to help me sit up because it was too painful to bend my torso. I don’t know why in fics people constantly break the batfam’s ribs and then have them running around like it’s no big deal. So that’s why Jason is like I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up.

In comics, Robin Jason called Dick “Old-Timer” and Dick called Jason “shorty” and “Little Wing”. So I incorporated that into the story.

Jason referring to Dick as Uncle Jesse is a reference to the TV show Full House. On the show, Uncle Jesse asks “capeesh?” a lot when he’s talking to his nieces or sons.

Poison Idea is an actual band that Jason used to like when he was Robin. In comics, he had a Poison Idea poster on his wall and I thiiink he might of also had a shirt with their name on it. So yeah. Jason is a punk rock bitch.

#Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #kinda hurt/comfort #Dick's a good brother #Robin Jason #birthday #prompt #my fic #replies

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joeymozzarello · 4 years

Text

Pen to Paper

Chapter Seven

Summary: A simple thesis on a simple book she’d read. That’s all she needed to do. She knew it would be at least a little bit arduous but she didn’t think it would cause this much trouble.

Pairing: Tim Murphy x original female character

Words: 1,511

A/N: i wrote part of this chapter on the same day i wrote chapter one. i’ve been waiting to post it for so long, i hope you enjoy<3

“It was a mistake,” Julie said, voice full of regret, trying not to cry. “I shouldn’t have done it, it was a mistake--” Tim stepped forward, hand on his chin, staring down at the mess Julie had made. He took a breath in, opened his mouth, and then closed it shut. “I’m dead. I’m dead. This is it, Americans still have the death penalty, right? I’m dead.”

Tim sighed. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not that bad--” he paused and then looked back at her, scrunching his face. “Okay, it’s kinda bad, but you’ll be fine, I’m sure it’s happened before.”

Julie gave him the deadest look she could muster. “Have you ever printed seven hundred pages of porn from a company printer?” Julie pointed at the printer (which was still going) and the paper spewed out on the floor, showing some very graphic images. “Not only is this a disgrace but I have managed to singlehandedly kill the environment,” she fell into a chair and dropped her face in her hands. Tim held back a giggle as he walked to the back of the printer and unplugged it.

He sat next to her with a grin on his face. “So you clicked on a link from a spam email. Lots of baby boomers have done that--” Julie looked up and hit his arm. Tim started laughing, that most comfortable she’d ever seen him, basking in her embarrassment.

“It’s not funny!” She hit him again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He giggled. “I just can’t believe you didn’t think about unplugging it in the first place,” he smiled at her so you could see all of his teeth. I could punch him right now-- or kiss him, I could do that too-- she stopped that thought right in its tracks. They hadn’t talked about that night, not one word, and Julie was lowkey glad. She couldn’t handle rejection and she definitely couldn’t handle a relationship, or worse, she was shit scared she was going to end up being a casual love affair-- that would be worse than rejection. So she ignored the fact that it even happened.

“I froze, okay? I freaked out!”

Tim picked up the pages and looked at them, tilting his head. Julie knotted her eyebrows and then hit him again. “Stop hitting me!” There was laughter in his voice but his face was pensive. “What if we give it to the homeless? I’m sure they aren’t getting any--” he dodged another hit. “Alright fine, what do you wanna do with these?”

Julie hung her head in shame. “I don’t know! Shred them, forget this day ever happened,” she sighed. Tim shrugged.

“Alright, whatever you say,” he started collecting the sheets from the ground. “It’s a shame we can’t even use it as scrap paper.”

“Haha, very funny, Timothy,” she rolled her eyes and begun picking things up.

They shredded every bit of paper they’d printed and strangely enough, what she felt most guilty about was the waste of paper. Oh environment Gods, please don’t kill me. She didn’t say this to Tim, he would’ve just made fun of her and she couldn’t handle that right now.

It took two hours.

“What’s the time?” Julie asked, fanning herself with her hand. The heating was too far up and she was wearing a wooly jumper. Tim came up from behind her and patted her hair, an action that felt so intimate somehow. She bit her lip to stop herself saying anything stupid.

“It’s almost four,” he said, walking around her towards his desk. He wasn’t looking at her. “Hey, do you wanna go get ice cream or something?”

“It’s November,” she brushed a hand through her fringe to get it out of her eyes, it flicked back as soon as she let go.

“So?” He turned around and leaned back on his desk, playing with a ball of rubber bands, his auburn hair glistening in the dim lighting of the room, his eyes screaming trouble.

“Isn’t that against the rules?”

“When have we ever followed the rules?”

~+~

Julie spoke through a mouthful of ice cream, a smile taking up most of her face, desperately trying to put it away so she could swallow her food. “You’re the worst when it comes to detail, you speak in generalizations only,” she chuckled. Tim gave her a playful gasp with a hand over his chest. “It’s true!” she shut her eyes. “I bet you don’t even know what color my eyes are.”

Tim was silent. Blue, he wanted to say, of course, they’re blue. They’re as blue as the cleanest ocean and the clearest sky. They’re crystal clear and they give everything away. Every glint of excitement, every annoying thought, everything. How could I ever miss the color of your eyes, the depth of your stares, the warmth of your thoughts? How could I ever? Instead, with a sad smile on his face, he said, “I dunno, green? A hazel-y color?”

She opened her eyes with a loud laugh pointing at her eyes and twisting her face. “Come on, Tim, they’re blue, the easiest color to remember!” She took another spoonful of her ice cream. “I guess I was right, you’re not that observant after all,” she smiled.

The past week had been torture for Tim Murphy. He saw Julie every day, he watched her as she awkwardly stumbled past his office, as she took everyone’s coffee order, as she laughed at the librarian’s unfunny jokes and as she pretended nothing happened between the two of them. He wanted to say something, every day he built himself up to talk to her and ask her what it all meant, if it meant anything at all, if he wasn’t the only one to feel all those squirmy feelings every time he saw her, only to then crumble at the sight of her.

He watched her tuck her hair behind her ear as she licked some ice cream from the corner of her mouth, his stomach flipped. He swallowed, pulling his eyes away from her and back to his little cone. He cleared his throat. “So have you figured out your financial situation, yet?” He asked as kindly as he could but he was sure that somehow it came out wrong. “I mean-- if you’re okay with sharing, I just wanted to make sure that, um...”

She put her hand on his shoulder. God, he was being so awkward. “You’re fine,” she grinned. “My dad transferred me some money that should help till the end of the month, but I have to go back to England for Christmas-- those were his terms,” she shrugged. He tried not to look disappointed. Not because he wasn’t happy about her being back on her feet and being able to eat a full meal but-- he didn’t know why.

“That’s good,” he said passively, with the fakest smile on his face.

She tilted her head with a confused look on her face. “Are you sure bout that, buddy?” She teased. His face flushed. “But thank you for asking. It’s good to have a friend here, you had me scared at the beginning, I thought you didn’t like me,” Julie did that thing where she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from feeling awkward.

Friend.

F r i e n d.

Tim took a half breath in and laughed. “Hang on, hang on, who said we were friends? Who told you I liked you?”

“Oh? Oh my gosh, I must’ve gotten you confused with--” she paused. “Shit! Are you not Bill Nye the Science Guy? I thought I was hanging with him! I’m so sorry to bother you, sir,” they both burst out laughing at how stupid that was.

“My, oh my, that was tragic,” he wiped a fake tear. Just like that, she made him feel so light and--

She looked at her phone. “Holy shit, is that the time?” Her eyes were wide. “Tim you have a meeting in six minutes! The head of the department is coming in just for this!” Tim dropped his spoon just as his stomach dropped-- he didn’t know if it was nerves or if it was because their hang out was being cut short.

Julie picked up her bag, and pulled Tim’s arm. “Come on, man, we gotta go!” She tugged at him as he picked up his jacket and then they were off.

Tim and Julie ran a ten-minute walk in under six minutes.

They got to the conference room meeting just as they were about to shut the door. Dr Connors was already in there, eyeing the two of them and she mouthed ‘hurry up’ as she saw Tim.

He was about to go in when Julie stopped him by grabbing his sleeve. “Look at me,” she said, a very serious look on her face. She licked her thumb and wiped the corner of his mouth. “There ya go, perfect.”

Tim walked into the conference room, his heart beating faster than he ever thought it could.

Masterlist

#dr tim murphy #Tim Murphy #tim murphy au #jurassic park #jurassic world #joe mazzello #joe mazzello au

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thatfairyfangirl · 5 years

Text

Heaven and Hell Chapter 6

“Hey Babydoll you up for some ice cream? There's a great ice cream shop in town.” Warren asked as he placed his dinner plate in the sink for the poor sap who was going to be stuck washing them tonight.

“Sure!” You jumped up from the table, not bothering to finish your vegetables at the thought of ice cream. He watched you bounce with excitement waiting for your hands to be free before wrapping his arms around you to kiss at the back of your neck, nipping playfully. You giggled at the attention, your hands resting on his arms.

“Oh my god get a room!” Scott half scolded as he finished up his mashed potatoes. It had been going on for weeks, and it was starting to get to him.

“Hey you guys have been wanting us to get together for months...deal with It.” You quipped sticking your tongue out to them.

~ ~ ~ ~

He watched you out of the corner of his eye looking so sweet and wholesome in your fluffy white sweater in the early spring air. Yet there you were jamming to Motley Crue’s Looks That Kill. “I don't think I'll ever get used to someone like you rocking to bands like this.” He laughed.

“What do you mean?” You asked with a sweet airy smile. “I've always loved Rock and Metal.

“I mean you don't look it.” He laughed pulling into the parking lot of the ice cream place.

You shrugged a bit. “I don't see why I have to choose between pretty in pink and black sabbath.” You answered running your hands through your hair arching your back. “I mean, if Persephone was the goddess of spring and the queen of the dead then why not me too?”

“Well if you are anything it would be a goddess.” He replied planting a soft quick kiss on your lips before you both got out to get what you came for.

You revelled at his arm around your shoulders as you waited in line at the stand, the looks you both drew not bothering either of you...you knew you didn't look like you belong together, and you didn't care. “Sorry, we're out of chocolate.” The girl behind the counter said to you after you placed your order. “We have vanilla and strawberry.” You let out a soft sigh before settling on strawberry. In this moment Warren realized he's never seen you go for the vanilla back at the mansion either.

“So do you just not like vanilla?” He asked watching you drag your tongue over the pink soft serve in a way he was sure was meant to tease...and it was working.

“Vanilla is alright...but why vanilla when there's more interesting out there?” The answer stirred a wondering in him...was she trying to tell him something? He wanted to ask, everything in him was screaming for him to ask if they were still talking about ice cream. But then his mind wandered to the last time he ventured from vanilla and the thought of you running from him scared him back into the moment. No...that's just wishful thinking.

You rose a brow looking up to him, sensing the fear deep in his gut but unable to place what scared him. Though you thought about diving deeper you didn't dare. If he wanted you to know he'd confide in you...you were after all the master of fears.

“Oh my God! Goober!” A deep male voice called out from across the parking lot. Both you and Warren looked up to the source of the voice. Your entire face seemed to light up when you saw him, long black hair, clad in a leather studded jacket and black torn jeans, if you looked up metalhead in the dictionary there would be a picture of him.

“Oh my god Danny!” Excitedly you handed the cone off to Warren before rushing and leaping onto Danny'd back with a giggle. Warren's eyes narrowed as he watched you ride him piggyback with ease as he reached behind to ruffle your hair. Well, it would seem you had a type. A tight sickly anger grew in his stomach with every giggle as you hugged this guy from behind. Despite his reminders to himself that you were not his, that he had no right to be jealous it welled within him until he felt like he was going to burst.

With a gruff he strode to you and your friend, outstretching one bladed wing, settling razor feathers on Danny's neck. “How about you put her down now?”

Though you hopped down to appease Warren, Danny stood unyielding, unafraid, bringing an arm to rest on your shoulder. “Friend of yours kid?”

“Danny this is the guy I was telling you about the other day.” You beamed with excitement with his arm around you. Warren knew he shouldn't be so jealous, you both agreed you weren't exclusive. So why couldn't he shake it? “Warren this is Danny, we grew up together.”

“So you're the guy?” He asked with a deep voice and a coy smile that bothered everything inside the metal angel.

“Yeah...I'm the guy.” Your eyes traveled between the two, feeling the tension in the air, practically smelling the testosterone.

“So (Y/n) we still on for Metallica next month?” Danny asked ruffling your hair once more.

“You know it.” You answer slipping from your old friend to Warren, his wing only yielding when you were under his arm once again. “Will Jessie be joining us?” You felt Warren's arm hold you a little tighter, his anger and jealousy seeping from every pore of him.

“Of course. She's excited to see you.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“Who was that guy?” Warren asked uncomfortably on the ride home.

“I told you...that was Danny. We grew up together.” You answered.

“Yeah but are you…” his fear of you being with him screaming in your mind.

“You jealous? I thought we agreed…” he just sat there mulling on it. You laughed slightly running your fingers through his hair.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Why aren't we dating? I mean, lets face it, we're practically dating…” Warren asked with a pant as he rolled off of you into his side, his mind racing back to the swell of jealousy he felt when he saw you jump on Danny's back. The way you were flirting with him was almost shameful.

“As fun as this is, it isn't what I would want long term.” You answered as you flopped into your back, your arm already stretching out to paw for your shirt.

“Yeah same here.” Warren chuckled realizing you were right.

“But as for Danny...he's been dating my older sister since I was 8...he's like a brother to me.”

“Maybe I shouldn't have threatened him.”

“Nah it was kinda hot” You replied rolling over to taste his lips once more. He couldn't help smirking at your answer before you got up to dress yourself. “But I'm taking this.” You added as you hooked two fingers into the leather jacket that had been sitting on his desk chair, flinging it over your shoulder with a wink.

“Am I going to get it back?” He asked with a chuckle, strangely ok with you commandeering his favorite jacket.

“Maybe.”

The next morning Warren wrapped his arms around you to greet you with a kiss to the nape of your neck from behind as you sat with your bagel in his leather. “That looks so good on you.” He whispered in your ear before suckling on your earlobe a moment, pulling a wanting tone from deep in your throat.

Tag List

@meraki–mei

@ixchel-9275

@babebenhardy

#xmen #age of apocalypse #warren #warren x reader #warren worthington #warren worthington x reader #angel #angel x reader #death angel

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

Irked

Title: Irked

Author: lokilover9 Chapter: #22 Rating:Teen Notes: In case anyone is curious, I forgot to post the song title (and artist) to which Loki discovered Shandi dirty dancing in chapter #21. My bad. It was Freaky Girl by Shaggy. For this chapter, it’s Night and Day by the Temptations.

Shortly after dinner that evening, Shandi received the dreaded call from Nat. “Uh oh.” She kidded. “This could take a while. I best make myself comfortable.” She left for the entertainment room.

Moments later, Loki overheard her from the corridor.

“I’m fine, Nat. Please relax?” A brief pause occurred. “Yes, I plan to obey Loki.”

‘Obey me? Stop eavesdropping God of Mischief, before you’re entertaining another boner.’

Twenty minutes passed before Shandi appeared at the library door. “How is it she can express harrowing concern for me one minute, then threaten to go all ninja on me the next, if I even ponder ignoring your request? Clint finally lured her away with some vodka.”

“Eh he he he. Good thing he’s amply stocked.”

“By the way, I forgot to ask if the storm caused any damage to the grounds?”

“Nothing some tidying and readjusting couldn’t resolve. Even the pool cover endured.”

Shandi sighed. “I already miss the towers pool. It’s a shame I won’t be able to enjoy this one. The scenery here is beautiful.”

Loki put down his book. “What if you could?”

“It’s not possible. I’d damage the empathy belly, remember?”

“Perhaps you may not need it?”

“Come again?”

Loki bit his tongue. “Did you see any maternity bathing suits in Beth’s shop?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Then tomorrow we shall do some shopping for Tony’s mini me, while you chose.”

She shot him a look. “What’s the plan?”

“Trust me.”

“Okay, that’s twice you’ve waggled those eyebrows. Now I’m nervous.” ***** The next day, Loki woke Shandi with breakfast again and they were soon off to Beth’s shop.

“Are you always up so early?”

“Gods don’t require the amount of sleep humans do, unless ill or injured. Normally, I’m quite disgruntled in the mornings, but with freedom to enjoy the outdoors again, I’ve embraced it.”

Shandi felt bad knowing once their mission was over, he’d be confined to the Tower again. “What time are you usually awake at?”

“Around 6:30. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

Loki thought nothing more of her question.

Beth was friendly and welcoming of course and obviously pleased, with their over five hundred dollars in purchases. Shandi was emptying one of the baskets and came across some tiny t shirts. “Daddy’s little stinker?”

“Come now.” Said Loki. “You don’t find it fitting?”

“I guess that all depends on who the daddy is.” She casually stated.

Loki knew this referenced Tony, but Beth didn’t and couldn’t resist another opportunity to tease. Feigning the confused husband he froze, reaching into the cart. “Is that so? Care to explain yourself, Elizabeth?”

Shandi went scarlet and rubbed her brow. “Ohhhh, that did not come out right.”

Beth laughed when Loki did. “I’ve been working retail over twenty years. There’s almost nothing you could say to surprise me. Clifford shot me a quick wink before reacting, which helped too.”

“Pfft. Looks like I’ve been had.” Said Shandi.

Loki rubbed her belly and laughed harder. “Yes you have.”

Her face reddened. “Listen Clifford, just pay the lady!”

Beth informed them the ice cream shop nearby, was introducing ten new flavors and as a lover of it, Shandi decided to go. Unfortunately, Tanya’s a fan too and by absolute fluke, beat them to it. Right before they entered she feigned dropping her purse contents on the floor and ducked below a counter to retrieve them. The couple were well into the store when she stood, making them easier targets.

Shandis back instantly went up so Loki rubbed her arms from behind and brushed his cheek against her head. “Look, darling. They’ve Rolo, you’re favorite.” As Tanya paid, he quietly whispered. “Ignore her.”

“And how are you today, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw?”

Her saccharine tone made Loki nauseous and Shandi remained silent, while fantasizing of throttling the little bitch.

Loki’s tone was flat, his eyes sharp and assessing. “We’re fine.” ‘Do not provoke me, imbecile.’

The two engaged in a mini stare down with Loki’s expression unflinchingly cold. Completely unfazed, Tanya continued testing them. “You can’t answer for yourself Mrs. Bradshaw?”

Loki gently squeezed Shandis shoulders. “My wife is capable of things you would never imagine, including speaking for herself. As I’m aware her present state, she’s opted not to.”

With a sly smirk, Tanya salaciously licked the circumference of her ice cream, moaning as her lips slid from the top, then slipped out the door. “Have a nice day, ‘Mr.’ Bradshaw.”

It hardly closed when Shandi muttered a curse and Loki gently stroked her cheek. “How many scoops, hm?” He addressed the young lady, waiting upon them. “Two of Rolo and one of chocolate mint, please?”

She warmed a scooper. “You newbies to town? I’m Ashley.” The couple introduced themselves. “I gather you’ve already had a run in with Tanya?”

“We have.” He replied.

“Then please, take my advice. “Avoid her whenever possible and never trust her. She’s no friend to anyone.”

They started down the street. “The ladies weren’t kidding.” Said Loki. “Beyond suspicion of murder, Tanya has quite a reputation.” It registered Shandi hadn’t once indulged in her ice cream and possessed a slight frown. “I recommend you eat that.”

She shook her head as he wiped a drip already melting onto her hand. “I can’t believe that idiot. I was standing right there.”

“Don’t feed into her game by becoming angered. It’s what she wants.”

“But she thinks I’m your wife.”

‘Worried about something, Pet?’ “The ladies warned us of such behavior, come.” He lead her aside to wrap napkins around the cone. “I sense you’ll wear more of this, than eat.”

“Honestly. She stared right at you and purposely licked her ice cream like a dirty…”

Loki smirked and covered her mouth. “Language, Elizabeth. Must I remind you, we’re in public?”

Shandi started walking again. “She needs a bitch slap. I’ll make Nat do it.”

“No you won’t.” Her frown deepened and he cackled. “I personally believe we’re failing at making this town more aware, the depth of our affections for each other. Perhaps we could try practicing more in front of Tanya.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Random hugs, perhaps a few pecks on the lips? We discussed this previously, yet have enacted little.”

“Oh, right.”

“Pshh. What did you think, Lizzy? I intended to toss your pregnant self over a park bench and have my way with you?”

Shandis top scoop plopped onto her shirt. “Did you do that?”

He laughed. “No.”

“Loki.”

“I swear. If you wish, we can retrieve a bib from the car?”

Shandi suddenly envisioned it nighttime at the local park with Loki thrusting into her from behind on a secluded bench, whispering filth into her ear. ‘Oh lord.’

“Elizabeth?”

“Nope, I’m good.” She wiped away the mess. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“A hardware store. The shed needs insect killer and mouse traps.”

Shandi snorted. “Is the God of Mischief afwaid of a wittle spider?”

“‘Wittle?’ The last three I encountered had body circumferences of a quarter coin with legs as long. One took a neighborly pounce onto my head. If you prefer doing the gardening, certainly they’d enjoy your thick and curly locks. Or, I could invite them in and grant ‘you’ the pleasantries of engaging in their doom. Perhaps with your fright inducing duster?”

“Very funny.” She sarcastically replied. “Insect killer is good.”

“I thought you might agree. Does the Queen of Unruliness fear spiders?”

“Ones that big? Yep.”

Upon returning to their public parking, Shandi hesitated entering the car and spoke quietly across the hood. “Are you aware Tanya is crouched down in the driver seat of a silver, Pontiac Vibe, five before us on the right?”

Loki’s brow arched. “Very observant, darling. I’m equally pleased and impressed.”

“So much for having stealth.”

He tisked. “Such sloppiness. She’d make a useless ninja.”

Shandi smiled.

“Let’s encourage her delusion, shall we?”

“How?”

He casually strolled around the cars front. “Practice does make perfect.”

Shandi was stunned when Loki cupped her cheek, then leaned in for a kiss. And not just a ‘peck on the lips,’ either. His free hand slinked around her hip, luring her closer, as his tongue smoothed its way beyond the seam of her plump lips. His alluring scent, a mix of otherworldly forests and musk, permeated her senses and his firm yet gentle grip had her melting as the kiss deepened. Recalling her lower back an erogenous zone, his fingers languidly stroked there in sync with the rhythm of his tongue and a soft moan escaped her. The loud thumping of Shandis heart muted surrounding sounds and she clasped onto his shirt, when her knees began weakening. As it ended, he playfully tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth and smirked when she hazily looked up at him.

“Were we convincing enough for any onlookers?”

“Hm?”

“Of our marital affections?” He opened her door.

‘My panties are undoubtedly convinced.’ “I believe so.” She entered and stared out the window, trying to unpretzel her brain. ‘Wow. His tongue must be capable of wonders, elsewhere.’ Just then, Tanya booted it out of the lot, altering Shandis thoughts to vindictive. ‘Awe, poor baby. Was that bothersome to witness? Suck it up.’ Seconds later. ‘Geez woman! ‘What’ is your problem?’

On the ride home, Loki noticed that same indent in the bushes, on the side of the road again and thought it odd. Upon arrival, Shandi was still quiet as they carried in the bags. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” ‘I’ve only been imagining your face between my legs since fastening my seatbelt and could probably put Niagara Falls to shame, but hey.’

“Up for a swim, then?”

‘Did he really just say that?’ “Not until you explain how this will work.”

Loki gestured towards the stairs. “Suit first, explanation after.”

“Fine, Sir bossypants.”

Loki grinned so slyly, she throbbed and fumbled on the second step. “What’s that about?”

“Shall I pour you a Malibu and mango juice on the rocks? It’s your favorite drink, correct?”

Her mouth fell agape. “How did you know I like coconut rum? And Rolo, too.”

“I’ve seen Tony pour you several from his bar. He chooses that particular brand and keeps a bottle there, knowing it’s your favorite.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do.” He smiled, passing her on the stairs. “The vodka you drink mostly to appease Nat, the wine only as you prefer it to whiskey. That’s all we had, until my shop with Clint. The Rolo I’ve noticed you indulging in at the Tower from a place called, ‘Dairy Queen?’ Only twice mind you, but it was easy enough to assume.”

Shandi reached the landing. ‘Well I’ll be damned.’

Loki dropped the larger bags into the spare room. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

Shandi called after him as he started down the back stairs. “You never said what that grin was for.”

“You called me Sir.”

“What the… I wouldn’t plan on getting used to that! In my opinion, Brat suits you perfectly!” She closed her bedroom door. “‘Sir.’ Pfft.”

Loki gulped down some whiskey and dumped ice into a tall glass. ‘We’ve yet to become better acquainted, Pet. Erotically, you may eventually find ‘Sir,’ more suiting.

Shandi returned in a choice very becoming. Black and turquoise, it highlighted her curves, exposing just enough a hint of cleavage to entice the eye. She stilled at the islands end and sipped her drink. Loki even added a straw, something Tony did too and it made her smile. “Thank you. Okay, I’m ready.” Her towel fell to the floor as the suits material began expanding at her stomach. “What the…”

“Relax.” Said Loki. It ceased at the empathy belly’s usual size and he gestured towards the sliding doors. “Refuge awaits you. Enjoy.”

“But..how is this possible? I don’t feel a thing.”

“Illusion. However, mind your step. Your feet shall remain elusive.”

A hand went to her hip. “Why didn’t you reveal this option, before?”

“I was being a Brat.”

“You…” She swatted him with her towel.

“Careful Queen of Unruliness. You haven’t a leg to stand on, should The God of Mischief retaliate.”

She playfully stuck her tongue out. “You don’t scare me.”

“Oh? Then why did you step outside before saying that?”

Shandi smirked. “I’m going in the water now.”

Loki’s phone rang and when seeing it Tony, he closed the glass door and entered the hall before answering. “Hey, Tin Man, what’s up?… She’s in the shower. Well, well, that’s intriguing. Very intriguing, indeed.”

Once the call ended, Loki decided to enquire of the song Shandi was so intrigued by, ‘Night and Day.’ He sauntered to the window, remaining hidden and sought it on Spotify. After finishing a couple of laps, she settled into one corner of the shallow end. Her eyes closed, as a gentle breeze bounced stray curls upon her cheeks. Water reflecting sunlight, danced upon her glistening features, while she basked in its warmth. How the incessant ache to touch, kiss and ravish every inch of her, drove him mad every waking moment. Peaking the volume, he soon became entranced by the words.

Night and day You are the one Only you beneath the moon And under the sun Whether near to me or far It’s no matter darling, where you are I think of you Night and day

Day and night Why is it so That this longing for you Follows wherever I go In the roaring traffic gloom In the silence of a lonely room I think of you Night and day

Night and day, under the hide of me There’s an oh, such a hungry Yearning, burning inside of me And this torment won’t be through ‘Til you let me spend My life making love to you Day and night Night and day.

Loki hadn’t related to song lyrics more in centuries, when thoughts of another love trickled into his mind. “Forgive me Iris. You’ll possess a sacred place in my heart forever. Since your absence, I assumed it hopelessly destroyed. Shandi is giving it life again and I so desperately need to embrace that. Please smile upon us from Valhalla, my unforgettable Dove? I need that too.”

With a heavy sigh, magic altered his clothing to black swim trunks, covered in bright red lip imprints, outlined in gold. The largest two were centered on his butt cheeks. “Norns, I’ve become a court jester. At the least, they should earn me a chuckle."

#Loki #Lover #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #Irked #chapter 22 #lokilover9

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castiel-left-his-mark-on-me · 7 years

Text

Jensen’s Salon

It didn’t take Jensen long to realize certain things about Misha Collins—the guy is very smart, a little quirky, and absolutely, one hundred percent incapable of styling his own hair. It was bad enough that the show’s stylists always made the guy look so like he just danced on a train’s third rail, but Jensen soon discovered that Misha wasn’t any better with it, and it’s little things like that that tend to drive Jensen crazy.

He loves his friends and he wants them to be happy, and he knows that people feel happier when they look sharp. So Jensen will often lend a helping hand. It’s why he’s given Richard certain scarves—so that all his outfits can pop; and it’s why Jared started wearing beanies all the time—because Jensen knew how well they framed his face. And it’s not like Jensen thinks any of his buddies look bad without these little adjustments, but why not help them spice things up a bit? Why not make sure that they’re always putting their best foot forward? Appearances certainly aren’t everything but they do count for something, and that’s why Jensen wants to ensure that all his buddies look their best.

So after the third week in a row where Misha showed up to set looking like a cow had just treated his head as an ice cream cone, Jensen became determined to do something about it.

“We’re friends, right?” he asks suddenly, catching Misha by surprise.

Misha cracks a wary smile but then nods. “I would like to think we are.”

“Okay good” Jensen sighs, finally grabbing Misha by the arm and yanking him in the direction of his trailer, “because we need to do something about all—” he makes a floppy gesture towards the top of the other man’s head, “this.”

Misha’s hand shoots up to touch is own hair, and then he squints at Jensen. “What?”

“Your hair, dude. This …” he gestures again, “this is not a look.”

Misha eventually drops his hand and shrugs. “I don’t really have a look. It’s not worth my time.”

“Looking your best isn’t worth your time?” Jensen counters, stopping in his tracks while sounding slightly offended by that idea.

Misha shrugs once more. “Who am I trying to impress?”

“You’re a public figure! You’re trying to impress practically everyone!”

After the third shrug, Jensen gives up on the speeches and continues to drag Misha up the steps to his trailer. “Well, if you don’t care then you won’t care if I try to make that mess on your head look a little better.”

“Go for it” Misha laughs, still sounding completely unimpressed by any of this.

Once inside, Jensen sits Misha down onto one of the stools by the kitchen peninsula and tells him to wait there, and then he goes to the back to grab all of his combs and hair products from his bathroom. By the time he returns, Misha’s eyes are wide as he looks at all the things filling Jensen’s arms.

“I don’t think I have enough hair for all of that” the man mutters, obviously second guessing his agreement to let Jensen style him. “Come to think of it—how do you have enough hair for all of that?”

Jensen rolls his eyes as he sets everything down on the counter. “I’m not going to use all of it, but I don’t know what I’ll need until I get in there.”

“It’s hair, not brain surgery, Jensen.”

“Hey—hair can be complicated. Just ask your poor scalp. You must torture that thing!”

Misha frowns and then scratches at his head with concern. “Does it really look that bad?”

Jensen frowns some too. “Nah, man – look, you just need to know how to handle it. It’s not horrible … just … messy.”

“Isn’t messy all the rage these days?”

“Not a good rage” Jensen grunts, lining up the mousses and gels in order of hold. Once everything is ready, he smiles and claps his hands together. “Alright—here we go!”

“You’re way too excited about this” Misha mutters, spinning back around on the stool as Jensen comes around the counter to stand in front of him.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks” Jensen admits, already reaching out for Misha’s head to get started.

“Really?”

It’s only then that Jensen realizes what he’d said, and it makes him blush a little. “Heh—uh, yeah, well … I just had some ideas of how I could help, ya know? Make all this look better.”

Misha stares up at him curiously but Jensen continues to avoid direct eye contact, choosing instead to focus on running his hands through the man’s hair, seeing which way it naturally wants to go.

“Well …” he says after a minute, “at least it doesn’t feel too coarse. Do you condition it?”

Misha makes an unsure sound before shrugging again. “I just use whatever my wife uses.”

Jensen nods, thinking about how much that makes sense. A guy who doesn’t really care about his appearance, probably wouldn’t go spending money on extra products just for him. “Alright, well—whatever she gets is pretty good.” Jensen pushes his hands across Misha’s scalp one more time, just feeling and playing with the strands. “Okay—so it seems like your hair naturally wants to pull to the left, so that’s what we’ll go with.”

“Usually things on me want to pull to the right” Misha laughs while looking up to catch Jensen’s eye. He then gives him a slow wink, quickly flicking his gaze downwards to try and emphasize his point.

Jensen groans. “Stop movin’ your head and be quiet, will ya? I’m trying to work my magic.”

Misha corrects his posture and sits up straight. “Take it away, Magic Man. I’m in your hands.”

Jensen groans again, but he soon focuses all his attention on the top of his friend’s head, trying to figure out which mousse to start with. After a second more, he reaches for the one with medium hold and extra volume, thinking that some lift might just create the image that Jensen has in his mind. And as soon as he has a generous amount of foam in his hand, he begins to work it through the dark locks of Misha’s hair—massaging here and twisting there, trying to make the tendrils clump together just right.

“How’s it goin’ up there, boss?” Misha asks, peeking at Jensen from the tops of his eyes.

Jensen steps back a bit before answering, pivoting in the middle to try and see his masterpiece from every angle. “I’m … not sure yet.”

“That’s a good sign” Misha hums dryly.

Jensen glares at him and then scoots up close once more. “Shut up—I just started.”

“Well, please, take your time. After all, I’m just here to help you get through beauty school. Are we practicing highlights next? Doing my nails?” Misha brings up his hands to his face and begins picking at his fingers. “I know my cuticles have been a hot mess lately.”

“Jesus” Jensen moans, wondering why he expected Misha to be at all cooperative throughout this experience.

“We should get Jared in here too—you can braid his hair, or put it in a bun … no! Shave half of it.”

That makes Jensen finally crack a smile. “Dude, he won’t let me anywhere near his hair! He’s so protective.”

Misha grimaces as Jensen tugs some of the strands just a bit too hard. “Yeah—I’m starting to see why.”

“Oh shut it, ya wimp!”

After that, Misha smiles but he stays quiet, letting Jensen play hairdresser without any protest. So Jensen pulls the locks every which way, twisting and combing, running his fingers through it all and then starting over when it all refuses to work. And before he knows it, nearly twenty minutes have passed and Misha is starting to slump in his seat. “Are we—ya know, close to being done yet? It has been a long day.”

Jensen sighs before pulling over the other stool and sitting himself down as well, immediately going back to his work once he’s settled. “I just can’t … it’s not doing …” he bites his lip a moment. “It’s just not doing what I want it to.”

Misha laughs. “Now do you see why I never bother?”

Jensen grumbles but he doesn’t want to give up yet. With a determined breath, he runs his index finger across Misha’s hairline, tracing the edges of each strand—as if mapping it all out will help somehow. But just as he slips down over the man’s ear, Misha drops his chin a little, so Jensen moves his other hand over to lift it up again. He then sits back, finally taking in all of Misha’s face at eye level, thinking that it may help him figure out where he’s going wrong. While gazing at his hair, Jensen’s eyes drop down some—and he notes the man’s high cheek bones and strong jaw as well—and the way his large eyes tilt down slightly at the ends. He stares at the rough stubble covering Misha’s chin and upper lip, framing his mouth in a way that makes his lips seem impossibly pink. Jensen then looks at the man’s nose, realizing how it’s not the usual type of nose that would work on someone—but on Misha, it looks good. It fits his face—and his face overall, is a nice one to look at.

“Everything where it should be?” Misha asks, and Jensen suddenly realizes that he’s long since stopped playing with the man’s hair, and is now just staring at all his features while his fingers play lightly at the base of his neck.

“Oh—uh …”

Misha chuckles a little before quirking an eyebrow. “Do I look super sexy now?”

Jensen blushes again, finally glancing back at the man’s hair, which he has somehow—made worse. “Well, actually …”

He doesn’t let him finish, and with a wide grin, Misha stands up, eventually lifting his hands back to his hair and running them through with a few quick swipes. Then, with the tips of his fingers, he combs the strands over to the left, doing soft little twists once he gets to the ends. After his hair is parted just so, he flattens his palms and smooths down the sides behind his ears, giving his head a quick shake when it’s all said and done; and that makes everything bounce and lift—like the mousse was supposed to.

Jensen gawks up at him in shock, because after only a minute and a few blind, flicks of his wrist, Misha’s hair looks perfect, a beautiful example of “intentionally messy” and exactly what Jensen had been going for. “But … how?” he whispers, standing slowly to reach for Misha’s head.

But the man only smacks his hand away, wearing a smirk that would put the devil to shame. “I said it wasn’t worth the effort—I never said I didn’t know how to do it.” And with that, Misha grins, stepping around Jensen and smacking him on the ass before heading out the door. “Thanks for the head massage though!” he calls out, just as the door slams shut behind him; and Jensen would flip him off, but he’s still just too damned stunned to even try.

#Ary writes #Cockles #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #I haven't written a Cockles ficlet in forever #and then I got this idea #It's silly #I know #but I like the idea of Jensen closely admiring Misha's face #and Misha just being like #uhh #you okay buddy???#Haha those nerds #anyway #yeah

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drabble-junky · 7 years

Text

Train Escapades || Diana & Steve

Pairing: Diana Prince x Steve Trevor

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1545

A/N: There wasn’t enough time to show Diana & Steve’s train ride to the front in the film so I was inspired to write what I would like to have happened. Idk what time it was so I just made it the afternoon for fanfic’s sake. I’d really appreciate some feedback! (:

The sound of chugging trains and chattering people filled the afternoon air as a certain, Amazonian princess munched the last of her newly-found love, an ice cream cone.

“That went fast,” said Steve Trevor, grinning ear to ear. He didn’t know if he’d ever smile again, until she stepped in his life.

“I’ve never tasted anything more delightful,” Diana replied gleefully. “How do they make it?”

“With milk, and a ridiculous amount of sugar.”

“We should try some day.”

“We will,” he spoke assuringly, although his smile faded, for he was actually unsure if that day would ever come.

Steve ushered her through the crowd until they finally reached their train. He opened the door and like a gentlemen, he held up her hand as she stepped through before him. His action was puzzling but she forgot it as soon as she caught sight of the car’s interior.

“There’s two beds!”

“What about it?” He set their bags down.

“Now we don’t have to be married to sleep,” she teased, nudging his arm.

He leaned back on the cushion laughing. What tickled him more than her comment was how comical their conversation that night was when he thought back on it. Diana sat next to him, adorably proud of her jest. Facing his feet, Steve sighed and smiled to himself. He glanced up, only to find a pair of brown eyes gazing into his. Her hair was stuffed in a frizzy bun and her hat couldn’t be any plainer, yet she was still the most exquisite being he’s ever laid eyes on. Having only seen the most magnificent women her entire life, Diana didn’t think the same, but never has she seen eyes so blue she could drown in them.

They didn’t realize how long they were staring until the blaring whistle signaled their departure. Steve turned away and took off his hat, twisting it in his hands. It was so unlike him to gaze at anyone that long but he felt no discomfort. She gave him a sort of confidence he’s never felt in his life. Diana obviously felt more than confident in everything she would possibly do. He looked back to find her watching the world pass by through the window.

“Incredible,” she remarked with her hands pressed against the glass, captivated by not only the spectacle, but how man invented such a thing.

“It sure is.”

Moving trains and ice cream had always been trivial in his eyes but he realized the beauty in everything when she discovered it.

Their solitude was disturbed when Sameer barged in. Instinctually, Diana whipped out her sword quicker than she saw who came in. Sameer let out a girlish scream before Steve yanked it from her hand and tossed it to the other seat.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, alarmed at the man’s uneasiness.

“I lost my ticket, and they’ll be collected anytime now. I don’t know what to do!”

“What?!”

“I’m a fool, I’m a fool, I’m a foo-”

“Enough! Just-” Steve clenched his jaw. “Diana, stay here. I’ll be back.”

The pair dashed out, leaving her to decide on whether she should listen and stay put. The thought of every time someone told her she couldn’t do something was what drove her out the door, determined to help. Sadly, she had no idea which way they went or which car they’d possibly be in. She kept on walking though, hoping to hear them.

“Have you looked everywhere?” Steve panicked.

“He’s even looked up my kilt, as if there’s any room for it there.” Charlie snickered.

Steve frantically searched their bags. “This isn’t a laughing matter!”

Minutes passed, and Diana still found no sign of her comrades. Her attention shifted to the craftsmanship of the corridor. She marveled at the gold patterns embroidered in the red fabrics.

Suddenly, a door swung open, but instead of Steve’s clamoring, she heard a wailing baby. Its mother was carelessly walking away with the door cracked, off to do Zeus knows what. With a twinkle in her eye and compassion in her heart, she skipped to the door where the baby continued howling.

Charlie peeked his head out their door. “Hate to say it, laddie, but the conductor is but a few steps away.”

“Goodbye Steven, goodbye women, goodbye MONEY! There’ll be none of that in jail,” Sameer cried out as he plopped pathetically on the seat. The little man was smaller than the cushion he laid on. This gave Steve a bright idea.

“Hey Charlie, you don’t happen to have a knife up that kilt, do you?”

Diana carefully picked up the screaming baby as if it was a glass doll, easily shattered. She hushed it softly. “It’s alright, it’s alright,“ she spoke tenderly, rocking it in her arms. Her eyes scanned its face, little hands, and teeny socks. The most precious thing she ever did see. “You must be a girl, a beautiful girl.”

Soothed by Diana’s voice, the baby stopped crying and her eyes fell sleepily. All she wanted was to be comforted but her mother stupidly abandoned her.

Steve headed back to the other railcar, smirking at his clever plan. A woman passed him through the corridor. They exchanged polite nods before he arrived at his door. He opened it, expecting to find his so-called secretary sitting idly, but she was nowhere in sight. “Diana!” He called out. His shout was met with a scream.

“WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“I’m sorry, I was only-”

He’d recognize that voice anywhere. Terrified, he fled down the aisle swifter than Hermes then crashed into Diana, who was shoved out by a furious mother. The door slammed in their faces when other passengers peered out their doors, wondering who made that ruckus. Steve stood up and tugged Diana back to their space before the conductor would enter this railcar. If she were an ordinary woman, her arm might’ve been ripped from its socket.

“What in God’s name were you doing?! I told you to stay here,” he exclaimed, smacking the door shut.

“I went to help you but got lost then that baby was crying and-”

“You touched someone’s baby?!”

“I held her.”

“You can’t do tha-”

“I can’t leave a helpless baby to scream all alone! What kind of mother would-”

“This isn’t Paradise Island, Diana. Children are kidnapped and killed all the time. Even if she left her, you can’t do that if she’s gonna come back!”

“Killed?” She sat down with horror in her eyes. Who would even think of harming something so innocent, so precious?

Him.

Only him.

“Ares,” she muttered.

Steve rolled his eyes until a knock interrupted them. He opened the door to find the conductor standing outside so he grabbed their tickets from his pocket then handed them as if there was nothing wrong.

“Is everything okay?” The man inquired, stamping the tickets against the wall.

“Fine, sir,” Steve replied.

“I was told of some commotion.” He peeked at Diana through the door. “From a woman in a hat.”

“Oh… my sister.” Steve glanced back and forth. “She’s a bit… off her rocker, you see? She mistook someone else’s car for ours. No harm done.”

“I’m glad to hear. As long as no one’s hurt, I’ll be on my way.” He handed their tickets back.

“Thank you.”

Steve closed the door then faced Diana who was staring out the window again. The sun was setting and the sky grew darker. He sat down and took her hand in his. “Just promise me you won’t do something like this again, I beg.”

She turned to meet his pleading, blue eyes. How could she say no?

“I promise.”

He sighed in relief but her eyes lingered on his. She had him wrapped around her little finger. There was no way he could stay mad at her long.

“You know you can take that hat off now?”

“Oh, I forgot I had it,” she said removing it and letting her hair loose. Her tousled, black locks fell beautifully against her shoulders. Now he could see her in all her glory. If only he knew of the fluttering she felt in her stomach when he looked at her. Out of all the people she’s met on her journey, it’s with him she’s felt most at home in this evermore peculiar place.

What would become of them when she finally defeated Ares?

Diana wanted to remain comrades, or perhaps more than that.

“So, how did you help Sammy?” She broke the silence.

“We sliced up the seat and he hid under it.” Steve laughed. “He’s small enough to smuggle.”

“Shame on you.” She giggled then nudged his arm the way she did earlier.

It was the perfect time to kiss her, but how would she react? Maybe she’d hate him for it. Maybe they weren’t meant to be together in that way.

Why was he thinking this when the world was falling apart around them?

“Well, it’s been a long day. We should rest.” He stood up and sat on the other seat.

Diana nodded, clearing a space to lay her head. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He loved when she said his name.

“Goodnight, angel.”

#wondertrev #wondertrev fanfic #wonder woman #steve trevor #steve trevor imagine

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tuxiedjabberwock · 7 years

Text

Sticks, Part II - a Fairy Tail one-shot

Gajevy Week

Sticks, Part II

Feb 19th — “Grief”

TWO YEARS AGO

“Gajeel? That you man?”

“Who else?” he snorted, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking the phone off speaker. Natsu’s surprised shout echoed through the lines.

“Wow! I mean, you’ve been blocking my calls the last few weeks, so I’m just…surprised.”

“What do ya want?”

“Well, uh, I was trying to ask if you’d wanna go hang out?”

“Sorry, busy.” Natsu groan-sighed.

“You’ve been busy for the longest time, you know. We’ve all lost parents, all three of us, and we’re trying to be here for each other—”

Gajeel punched the End button and tossed the phone into the corner of his room. Natsu was insufferably positive, even after the fact, and Gajeel didn’t think he could stomach it. Not to say he didn’t appreciate Natsu’s efforts, but they would’ve gone off better with Wendy, who was younger and much more emotionally impressionable than he.

“Gajeel?”

Speak of the devil. Actually, no—“the devil” was a much better approximation of him.

“Welcome home,” he said, opening the door. She still had her backpack on, the size of which almost dwarfed her small figure. Her long hair hung around her yellow and green-pattered dress and her eyes were wide and focused on him. “I made— Isn’t it kinda early?” he restarted, glancing at the clock. “Yeah… Ya have school for another hour.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, ducking her head. All at once, he understood.

“’s okay.” He put a hand on her shoulder and let her bury her face into his denim jacket. “Jus’ watch the truancy, alright? Ma always said yer a smart little girl—it’d be a shame to see ya get kicked outta school.”

“I’m trying, but it’s hard,” she whimpered into the fabric. “Little things make me remember them…”

“I get it. I’ll just call the school later, get the work that you missed.” She nodded as best she could in her position.

“Thank you, Gajeel…” He hesitated as she sniffled, shifting his hand to her head and gently caressing the hair so much like their mother’s. He started to speak, stopped, then began again:

“Let’s go get ice cream, huh?”

Despite Gajeel being eighteen—old enough to assume guardianship—he still felt the weight of assumed parenthood heavy on his shoulders. It was, of course, on top of the burden of grief, sometimes hanging like a cloud so thick around him that he could barely breathe. He had his moments, albeit few and far in between, and tried his hardest to hide them from Wendy to appear like the strong older brother figure she needed, but it was hard.

He remembered how, when he was called out of school to receive the news some weeks ago, he completely flipped. It didn’t make sense in the slightest: the one day that the trio drove out together was the same day a sleep-deprived garbage truck driver did his rounds? It sounded like something from a bad novel, but things were nastily proven real. He remembered fighting for a while, dealing blows and taking them to let the numbness wane in favor of adrenaline, but even the best things were only temporary.

“You know,” Natsu had said as they sat on the steps of Kardia Cathedral, his blazer on the stone and his tie yanked loose, “I keep thinking that this is a huge nightmare, that I’ll wake up any second with Igneel shoutin’ in my face that I’m late for school.”

“Gone are those days.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” He blinked rapidly, then wiped an arm across his eyes with a growl. “Damn it… Why now, huh? I’m not even eighteen yet and I already lost my old man. Igneel told me he wouldn’t die until I did!”

“Well, things happen, Natsu,” Gajeel said.

Things happen… What a gross summary of the most tragic event of his life. Things happen was what someone said when they couldn’t take their kid to the fair, or when they couldn’t afford a toy; things happen wasn’t reserved for real deaths, important deaths. Those two words weren’t nearly enough to cover Wendy’s sleepless nights or his own or Natsu’s, although he’d die before he’d admit it. But thing, once they hit rock bottom, could only get better, and while the ascent was slow, he made progress. They made progress.

“This is so good!” Wendy gushed as she ate one of the wafers in her mint chocolate chip cone. He chuckled as he walked with her down the sidewalk, heading to their apartment down the block. “Wanna try some?”

“I’m not a big fan of sweets.”

“Aww,” she complained. “You and Natsu are so weird.”

“Says you.” They passed an alley, where Wendy instinctively huddled closer and away from the blotchy shadows, when a weak mewl caught their attention. A small white and orange kitten padded up to Wendy, pawing at her leg. She cooed softly and knelt down to feed it a wafer, which it took gratefully.

“Aww, Gajeel, she’s so tiny,” she said, taking up the kitten. It purred and rubbed into the crook of her neck. “Can we keep her, please?”

“I dunno, the landlord’s not all that happy about flea-infested—” Then the cat did what most grown men feared to even think about: It jumped from Wendy’s arms to his shoulder and cuddled up to his face, purring consistently.

At that moment, Gajeel realized his passionate love for cats. (Privately, of course; if Natsu, who’d had a blue-dyed cat since childhood, realized that Gajeel’s taunting of him for said cat was out of jealously, he’d die a shamed man.)

“I’ll call her Cupcake,” she decided, beaming as the kitten hummed enthusiastically and curled up in her lap. The name broke Gajeel’s reverie somewhat, but he smirked and ruffled her hair anyway. It was the happiest he’d seen her since they lost their parents, so who was he to ruin it?

“That’s a kickass name there, Wendy.”

“A cat, huh?” Natsu hummed as he shut the front door behind him, ignoring Gajeel’s scowl as Cupcake curled about his neck like a scarf. (Not that he was complaining, as it was winter.) “Ah, who was it that always joked about Happy again? I forget.”

“You’ll be forgettin’ yer name when I’m done poundin’ ya,” he warned. Natsu grinned at the sound of a fight, fists up. Lucy sighed as she stepped between them, holding them at arm’s width.

“What are you two, children?” she chided. “Grow up already!”

“Says the one that still wears bunny pajamas,” Gajeel retorted. Lucy flushed a deep scarlet as she went to change, disappearing into Natsu’s room and locking the door. Meanwhile, Natsu sat with Gajeel on the sofa, kicking his feet up. Gajeel noticed the remains of lunch there alongside a few bags of potato chips. “I woulda thought you’d drown in junk by now.”

“I would’ve, but Lucy’s pretty good at cooking, so I don’t mind eating healthy crap now,” he confessed. “It’s a step up from Dad always buying takeout anyway.” They paused to sit on that, the air growing heavier. “It still feels like yesterday, not like two months’ve passed. You still hanging on all right?”

“I think… I’m doin’ better,” he said. “But sometimes…ya know, sometimes, I just wanna hear my old man’s voice again.” He turned away, feeling cold despite Cupcake’s warm body.

“I get you.”

“And I see Mom’s smile all the time in Wendy, and sometimes I jus’ can’t stand it. Ain’t that somethin’ else? Can’t stand the look of my own sister’s face. It hurts right here,” he gripped the fabric of his t-shirt around his heart, “and it jus’ gets worse and worse until I can’t stand it.”

“Gajeel…” Natsu grasped his shoulder gently. “Things are gonna get better, I promise.”

“I wish,” was all he said.

Down the hall, he heard Natsu’s door, which had been ajar for a while, close once more.

PRESENT DAY

Gajeel unlocked the door to his apartment to find something baffling: Wendy, who had been in another stretch of grief after Cupcake’s killing, was giggling madly. Curious, he dropped his backpack and went to her room, leaning in the doorframe. She was on the floor and reaching for something under her bed.

“What are ya doin’?” he asked. She glanced at him and straightened, her back unusually stiff and hands on her bandaged knees. He recognized it as her guilted pose.

“Gajeel, a present came for us,” she started. He raised a brow and looked towards her bed.

“And it’s under there?” Answering his question, an adult cat slid out from the darkness and carefully approached him. It was jet-black with a grey mouth and paws and had a scar across its face. Its blue collar had the name PANTHERLILY. I see why, he thought—it looked like a miniature panther. “Ya said it’s a present?”

“Uh-huh. He came with a note…” She grabbed a piece of ornate stationary from her bed and handed it over. He flattened it out and was immediately blindsided by the familiar perfume scent on it. He hadn’t smelled it in a couple of weeks, not since he buried Cupcake…

“Dear Gajeel and Wendy,” it read, “I know this cat won’t replace Cupcake, but at least you won’t be alone with your grief this time. I thought that since you’ve lost a lot already, it would do you two some good to gain something for once, so you’ve both gotten a present here: Wendy gets a new cat, and Gajeel can get a number from nobody special. Regards, Levy.” And below that calligraphy handwriting was a phone number—her phone number, by the sound of it.

Nobody special? What an understatement, he thought with a snort, rolling his eyes slightly. Shrimp’s pretty special, whether she thinks it herself or not. Actually, that’s probably why Bunny-girl brought us together in the first place… She thought Levy could help me. And she wasn’t wrong.

“Why are you smiling?” Wendy probed. “Can I…keep him?”

“I’m not gonna stop ya,” he grinned, ruffling her head. She pointed at the letter.

“I called to say ‘thank you,’ and a girl answered. Is that your girlfriend?” He flushed a little but hid it with a snicker.

“Nope, she’s not.” Let’s see if I can change that.

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail gale #fairy tail gajevy #Gajeel Redfox #Levy McGarden #gale #gajevy #gajevy week #Gajeel X Levy #romance #ft oneshot #ft fanfiction #angst #the pen is mightier than iron

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