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waiting-on-a-dream · 6 months

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𝙵𝚒𝚕𝚎: 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝟹 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝

Haruto: The date is 1 November XXXX. On October 31, the prisoners were offered two options to choose from as a Halloween special: trick or treat. I wasn't aware of this until today.

Prisoner 001: Kanai Ichiro chose treat and received a sample of clay. He was still fascinated with it this morning despite receiving it last night. I wouldn't be surprised if he's hyperfixating.

But... I'm pretty sure he's playing with it to distract himself from the crying. He told Noa-san about it and then she told me. According to Ichiro, there's a baby on his bed that won't stop crying. He only appeared this morning when Ichiro woke up. He moved to the cafeteria, but he can still hear the crying.

Ichiro is a prisoner that obviously hasn't been mentally well even before he was brought to Milgram, but when most of the prisoners are seeing people in their rooms, I know its not another one of his hallucinations. You... You're pretty fucked up for orchestrating something like this. Everyone was already-! [Haruto groans and tussles his hair frustratedly.] Whatever. On with the report.

Prisoner 002: Kobayashi Akane chose treat and received a CD of "A silent voice". She plans to watch it tonight in Noa-san's room after dinner. Even though the screen in her room has a CD player, she avoids it because her father is in there. She told me he started beating her in a rage when she woke up, but her arms show no marks or bruising. Apparently it felt real to her. She also thinks these "hallucinations" can't leave the prisoners' rooms because her father didn't follow her when she ran out of her room.

[Haruto flips through his notepad on his table.] What the hell is even happening anymore?

Ah, prisoner 003: Iwamoto Daisuke chose treat and received a photo of his friend Ryuto at a company dinner. He showed me. Um, Daisuke-kun must really appreciate suits. His friend's a handsome guy who can't be bothered to smile for the camera. I'm somehow not surprised.

Interestingly, Daisuke-kun doesn't see his friend in his room. Instead, all the guilty prisoners had a dream where they met a strange man.

For Daisuke-kun, he can only remember the man wearing the weirdest suit and matching hat. Lime green, purple and orange stripes. If I had to see that, I would consider it a nightmare. All the man said was: "Did you do it for him, or did you do it for you?" Daisuke-kun didn't feel like talking after that, so I let him be.

Prisoner 004: Toma Suzume chose treat and the monitor in her room started playing a recording of her mother calling the police to report her disappearance. That explains why she was crying this morning.

She only remembers a shadowy figure waving a silver wand about in her dream. He leaned in close and asked: "Is this your love?" Suzume-san answered "yes" and he laughed. Freaky, but okay.

Prisoner 005: Endo Haku chose trick "out of curiosity" and received a camera. I checked it out this morning and it just seemed like a normal camera to me. Haku-chan showed me that the camera had future telling properties when he used it. He demonstrated by pointing the camera at an empty bench in the cafeteria. On the screen, Yui-san was shown to be sitting there. He took a picture and sure enough, Yui-san came over to sit by the spot soon after. Um, what a useful camera?

He reported to me that his victim appeared in his room this morning as well, but was strangely silent the whole time. The only thing he did was stare at Haku-chan, albeit angrily. Which is unusual because he's the only victim who hasn't vocalized at least once.

Prisoner 006: Sasaki Yui chose treat and received new earrings with blue bow charms. She's really excited about them, started styling her hair again and everything. But her good mood is mostly due to her dear friend greeting her in the morning. She teared up when she told me about how cheerful and beautiful Himiko was just as she remembered. To be honest, it was giving me fr... Never mind. I'm glad they can reunite, even under shitty circumstances like this.

Prisoner 007: Shigeru Rin chose trick because that's what he felt the options were and received an airhorn to assault the other prisoners with. Compared to Haku-chan's magic camera, Rin-chan's gift is more of a harmless object to prank people with. Unless the airhorn has some magical properties I don't know about.

Rin-chan wasn't as happy with seeing Renho as Yui-san was to see Himiko, with him finally feeling guilty about his crime. According to him, Renho doesn't blame him but is miffed about dying so young. I'm not sure how much of that is true, but he tells me they're talking it out. I can't see or hear Renho anyway, so I'll leave them to it.

Prisoner 008: Watanabe Noa chose treat and received this pretty beach themed jar of sand. Its all white and shimmery, with seashells and an opened oyster with a pearl inside. Super cute. She hadn't come out to make breakfast this morning, so I was worried about her mental state when I went to check on her. I didn't have to worry though. She looked really happy talking to herself (her husband) in her room, so I left her to it. I don't think I've ever seen her genuinely happy. And uh, I ended up making breakfast for everyone even though I woke up late.

Prisoner 009: Miyahara Kiyoshi chose treat and received an apple from his hometown. Its famous for its apples and said apples a have distinct taste. I'm not the expert, so I'll take his word for it.

In his dream, the weird man was wearing a monocle. I asked Kiyoshi-san if the man was wearing a suit as well, and he answered: "Now that I think about it, yes. But its blurry in my head." I guess each guilty prisoner focused on a certain aspect of the man. Kiyoshi-san also didn't seem to be planning on telling me what the man said to him until I asked. "Just accept your punishment quietly." A reference to Kiyoshi-san's guilty verdict perhaps?

Prisoner 010: Okura Mayumi...claimed that she chose treat and received a cupcake. Since Kiyoshi-san received an apple, its not weird for prisoners to receive food. But the cupcake didn't seem to hold any sentimental value for Mayumi-san. She said something about helping her mother bake when she was younger, but I'm still not convinced.

Strangely, she's the only innocent prisoner that doesn't see her victim in her room. Instead, she had a weird dream like the guilty prisoners. She was in an empty cinema hall with the strange man. The thing she remembered about him was his conniving smile. I asked Mayumi-san what he said to her, but she claimed he hadn't said anything.

I'm not sure what the purpose of this Halloween special is, but it can't be anything good as long as there are tricks involved. The hallucinations as well? Give me a break. [Haruto leans back, burying his face in his hands.] You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

What do you even expect me to do in this situation?

[Haruto sighs, uncovering his face.] Shit. What else can I do but adapt.

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

#remember the first video Haruto posted where he ended it with a peace sign? good times #the good thing about not putting a date in the end of trial 2 report is that I get to establish the date in this post #because I forgot I was planning a Halloween special #I know what I'm doing I swear #prison guard: suzuki haruto #prisoner 001: kanai ichiro #prisoner 002: kobayashi akane #prisoner 003: iwamoto daisuke #prisoner 004: toma suzume #prisoner 005: endo haku #prisoner 006: sasaki yui #prisoner 007: shigeru rin #prisoner 008: watanabe noa #prisoner 009: miyahara kiyoshi #prisoner 010: okura mayumi #milgram #milgram oc #milgram project #ocgram

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egonspenglerishot · 18 days

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Yk what fuck it. I’ve been struck by the writing gods (and a rp between me and my friend)

Egon Spengler x Jane Carr (OC)

“Who ya gonna call?”

Part 1/??

It was another eventful day in the Ghostbusters Headquarters, Egon had barely any time to go over the samples that he’d collected. It frustrated him he’d gone through texture hell and being overstimulated to get those ectoplasm samples because Venkman and Stantz both said they didn’t want to, and he couldn’t convince them. He mentally cursed himself as he stepped into his lab a content groan passing his lips as he sat down. He was too tired to shower, but the ectoplasm was really bothering him. He sighed and stood going to the decontamination showers. After a long hot shower he dried himself and dressed in his loose PJs, making his way to the shared bedroom of the Ghostbusters.

Meanwhile Jane was sat at home watching TV, sheets of different notes spread on her coffee table. She usually did for Egon, he was a close friend and her crush since…forever. She sighed as she read the notes something popped into her head. The writing was similar to that of the notes she received in college from a mysterious admirer. She grabbed the letter and compared them her eyes widened as she checked the name on the front of the journal: Egon Spengler. Her eyes sparkled as she picked up her phone and dialled the Ghostbusters number. Janine answers in her usual monotone voice. “Ghostbusters Headquarters how can I help” Jane chuckled and hummed. She explained to Janine she needed to speak with Dr Egon Spengler, that I was urgent. Janine rolled her eyes and buzzed Egon down. The male groaned and came downstairs half asleep and took the phone. He stifled a yawn as he began speaking. Jane had to bite her lip to stop her squealing. “Well well Doctor Spengler I never knew you’d like me of all people” Egons eyes widened all sleepiness forgotten about. Jane…He blushed and looked away from Janine as he stuttered out a response.

“J…Jane oh this is a surprise…is there anything you found in the notes-“ Egons usually calm and cold exterior was broken due to him being exhausted. He looked at Janine who was was just filing her nails. She didn’t seem interested in his conversation at all. He rubbed the back of his neck and Jane let out a chuckle “I’ll come over and we can talk. You sound so tired though sorry if I woke you” Egon stifled another yawn while protesting that she hadn’t. After the exchanged good nights Jane put her phone down and squealed with excitement as she piled the notes in a small stack and did a small dance around her living room. He loved her! This was perfect! She sighed and collapsed on her sofa giggling like a schoolgirl. She’d always been there for him, and he was always there for her no matter what. She stifled her own yawn and made her way to the bedroom her dreams filled with Egon and his strangely charming ways.

#ghostbusters x oc #ghostbusters #Egon Spengler x oc #egon spengler #Egon being eepy boy #he’s definitely getting teased by Venkman

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slippinmickeys · 1 year

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The Mesas of Deuteronilus Mensae (21/?)

“God, who packed this thing?” Mulder muttered into his helmet as he shifted the next case of weather balloons to the front. They were loaded in such a way that every time he pulled another one out, it made the next one more difficult to retrieve. It was normally a thing he would have kept to himself, but since they had deployed on their extended EVA, he and Scully had taken to just leaving their comms channel open all the time. Occasionally he could hear her talking to herself from the small lab in the back section of the Rover, a quirk he found charming and sweet.

“I know,” agreed Scully, responding to him through the hissing speaker of the comm. “The medical supplies they sent with us are not oldest to newest, as per protocol. Everything is in there, but I can tell just by looking at the lot numbers that they didn’t pack what was slotted to come.”

“Next time we go out on EVA, please make sure Powers is restored to full duty, will you?” he said, joking with her. “This substitute payload specialist shit is for the birds.”

He could sense her smile on the other end of the comm.

He turned to the horizon behind them, the vast vista, marred only by the tread marks from their tires. They were several weeks out from the HAB and well into the fan-shaped route that had been laid out to deploy the weather devices. It was relatively easy, mindless work; drive several hours, stop, pull out a weather balloon (which was more of a lightweight solar operated drone than what you might picture in your head), deploy, and move on. Scully had insisted on stopping along the way to collect soil and water samples, but they were still on schedule—and when one or both of them wasn’t out of the rover on mission, they were in the two seats up front, driving, listening to music, snacking, talking.

It was like being on a road trip with a new girlfriend, Mulder thought, with all the excitement of infatuation and adventure, knowing that when the sun went down, they would find each other in the dark. He’d never had so much sex in his life. In fact, he’d suggested more than once that Scully really ought to begin a study on the refractory period of a middle aged human male in low gravity, as there was something otherworldly—if she’d pardon the expression—about how often and intense their couplings were. She’d advised him that she was in fact recording statistics, but more informally, and in such a way that wouldn’t pass muster under peer review. He shook his head, smiling.

“Ready to deploy WBD-156,” he said into his comm-link.

“WBD-156, check,” came Scully’s officious-sounding response. “Location recorded, device pinging and responsive. You are go to deploy.”

Mulder switched on the device’s motor and gave its small solar panels one more hit with compressed air, then launched it up into Mars’ prevailing wind. “One-Five-Six deployed,” he reported, watching the little machine go shooting off into the salmon-colored sky.

“And that’s One-Five-Six logged with Base Base,” she said a moment later. “You’re done for the day, Mulder.”

“Copy.” Mulder secured the remaining weather balloons to the pallet of the trailer Rover 2 was pulling and made his way back along the side of the rover to the airlock.

The Rover was set up with its full complement of accessories for their journey. For short EVAs or for tooling around the mesas near the HAB, it was a single compartment with three wheels on each side, a small airlock that could only fit one astronaut at a time, and two captain’s chairs with full driving capability on either the starboard or port. Behind the ‘driver’s seats’ was a small galley, even smaller lavatory, and a collapsible Murphy-style table and benches with two beds on either side.

Decked out as it was now, it had—in addition to the open-air pallet trailer holding the weather balloons—a full second rigid section, linked to the driving compartment by an articulated pivoting joint enclosed by protective bellows. It looked rather remarkably like an articulated bus used in public transportation, only instead of more seating in the second compartment, it was fully outfitted with a traveling laboratory, small medical bay, and two more collapsible Murphy beds.

Mulder and Scully had taken to eating in the galley up front and sleeping in the beds in the rear when the sun went down. During the day, as they traversed their mission path, Mulder tended to drive while Scully rode shotgun or worked on samples in the lab. Perhaps they were falling into predictable gender roles, but neither seemed to mind.

Mulder approached the airlock and looked to the sun as he waited for the green light to enter. They probably had another hour or two of daylight left, and he hoped they could get back on the road, as it were, and use up the remaining daylight to knock a few more clicks off of their trek. They were making good time, but you never knew what could happen when out on EVA, and as they approached the apex of their journey—when they would be the absolute furthest from the safety and backup of the other Nerio crew members—Mulder got nervous.

In front of him, the light on the airlock turned green and he entered, pushing the button that initiated the pressurization. Like the one in the HAB, the rover’s smaller, one-man airlock had an automated vacuuming system in its floor that pulled the dust and other buildup off of the astronauts hardsuits. Though Mars had so far proven to be a totally sterile world, NASA would not risk any of the astronauts or colonists being infected with an alien microbe or bacteria should they ever pick one up on the sole of their boot, and so once you went through the airlock, a thirty second vacuuming process was required before you could pass into the rover or HAB.

Once the process was complete, the light kicked to clear and Mulder removed his helmet, stepping into the tiny ready-area of the HAB.

“Hey,” Scully said, stepping forward from where she’d been seated in the port side driver’s seat. She was wearing a gray jumpsuit that she’d taken her arms out of and tied around her waist, approaching him in a plain white tank top. The rovers were set to an automated heating system, pumping out more in the late afternoons in anticipation of the sun going down as a way to try to stay ahead of the frigidly cold temperatures of the Martian night. It was normally quite comfortable, but had a tendency to run a few degrees hotter than necessary this time of day.

“You want some help getting out of your suit?”

Mulder resisted the urge to make a sexual joke and merely threw her an appreciative smile. “Please.”

Despite the vacuuming process, the boots of their hardsuits were both beginning to take on a rusty stain that crept up the hard shell of the suit and approached the forest green stripes that looped around Mulder’s legs. The suits were also starting to give off a regolith-esque odor redolent of rotten eggs. Mars, it turned out, did not smell great.

“Might be time to Febreze the suits,” Scully said, unlocking the lower half of Mulder’s hardsuit from the top and gingerly raising it up so that he could step out of it without scraping his skin along the edges. NASA had sent along a liquid compound that combated the mephitic odor, but it could be cloying, especially in the cramped space of the rover.

“Oof,” Mulder said. “If you must. But let’s wait until after we stop for the night and we can retreat to the rear compartment.”

She slid several parts of his suit into the storage locker that housed them. “You want to keep going today?”

“If you don’t mind,” he said, glancing out toward the windshield of the rover. “Would love to get a few more miles behind us.

“Fine by me,” she said, giving him a smile. “I’ve got some things I can do in the lab if you want to drive.” With that she rubbed her hand up and down his arm once and made her way to the rear section lab.

Mulder pulled on the slippers he liked to wear in the rover and made his way to the starboard side driver’s seat.

“Oh,” called Scully from the back as he was running a systems check. “There was a system dump of correspondence about thirty minutes ago. I got a whole load of emails from home. Might be worth checking yours.”

“Will do,” Mulder called back, firing up the rover and putting it in gear, creeping forward until he got the engine up to full. He checked his nav screen, slightly adjusted his trajectory, and settled in for the drive.

The landscape in the area they were currently traveling was flat, a broad expanse of pale orange without many obstacles they’d need to navigate, which was good considering that Scully was on her feet in the back of the lab. It was technically against protocol to not be strapped in when the rover was in motion, but the vehicle had a second-to-none balance system of shocks and struts, and even when the terrain was rough, the drive had proved to be pretty smooth.

And the terrain here, Mulder observed, was about as flat as they were ever going to get. A good place for distracted driving. He double checked his path out the windshield and then turned to the computer screen just to the left of the nav system and pulled up his email. There wasn’t much—a couple of non-urgent updates from Mission Control, and a video file from Frohike that he’d look at later—but the last email in the list grabbed his attention. It was from Commander Ehrlich and was marked Confidential.

Mulder checked his route again and then glanced back to make sure Scully was still in the back before clicking open the correspondence.

“Mulder,” the email began. “Regarding our discussion from several weeks ago, I decided to take your advice and work the problem. Fairly certain the mission isn’t cursed (that was the stress talking), but as I sit at night and think about some of the issues we’ve been having, I’m more and more convinced sabotage may be the order of the day. I had every intention of reaching out to you so that you could talk me out of it, but then I found the attached in the mess this morning. I’m passing along to you before I reach out to Mission Control. Please advise.”

A low feeling of unease blossomed in his belly as he opened the attachment.

It was a picture of a note scrawled on a mission notepad, the writing sloppy and unkempt, the words twisting off to run down the side of the page as it ran out of room. The note simply read: “It is not fair. It is not FAIR. IT IS NOT FAIR .”

Immediately, Mulder felt an adrenaline dump. The nature of the handwriting itself spoke to a mind that was unbalanced, and the tone of the words pointed to an anger that had probably been festering for some time.

He stared at the picture of the note, trying to figure out what he would do about it.

“Everything okay?” Mulder jumped in his seat and turned to find Scully standing behind him, looking at him with calm expectancy. “News from home?”

“Uh,” he said, reaching forward to log out of his email. “Not exactly.”

Scully cocked her head at him and he was about to launch into an explanation—she was medical staff after all, and he thought it was probably time to loop her in—when the rover lurched to the starboard side and slammed to a stop with an almighty crack. Mulder, who was strapped into the seat, was shoved against the restraints, but Scully, who had been standing at his shoulder, had been catapulted forward and was now half on the floor of the rover, wedged in between the two seats.

“Scully!” Mulder shouted. He killed the engine and turned to Scully who was trying to sit up, flipping off the seat belt as he scrambled to help her. She hissed in pain and brought a hand to her temple, where a small gash blossomed with fresh blood.

“I’m okay,” she said, wincing, and Mulder worked an arm under her elbow to help her up.

She stumbled a bit as she tried to regain her feet, and Mulder realized that the rover was listing forward and to the right slightly, the floor uneven, as if it had been a car that found an enormous pothole. Finally, he lowered her into the opposite seat and reached up to pull her hand away from where she had it clamped to her forehead.

She hissed again as Mulder probed the skin around the small cut with his thumb, but let him fuss over her. After a moment, she knocked his hand gently away and reached up to touch the cut. When she pulled her hand down to look, there was a small spot of blood that was already beginning to congeal. “What happened?” she asked.

Mulder turned to look out the windshield at the land in front of them, now tilted unnaturally. The sun was closing in on the horizon, and he could feel a chill pushing in from the reinforced glass.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not sure if I hit something, or…”

“You didn’t see anything?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

“No, I…” He glanced down at the screen where the email from Ehrlich had been up not a moment before.

“We’d better go check it out,” Scully said, licking her lips. “It’s going to be too cold to go outside soon, and if we’re going to need rescuing, we’re going to need to get word to the HAB right away.” She didn’t need to explain that while they were equipped with more than enough supplies (they had twelve weeks worth of supplies for an estimated six week mission), it would still take another rover weeks to get to their location, and probably longer for them all to get back.

“Yeah,” Mulder said, standing to rise and trying to focus. “I’ll go. Do you want me to patch you up first?”

“I can do it,” she said, then nodded at the setting sun. “Sollight’s fading.”

He nodded and wasted no more time, pulling on his hardsuit while Scully shuffled to the back to attend to her injury.

Before he even stepped out of the airlock, the cold hit him. Despite the warmers in his suit blasting full, the bone-chilling temperatures of the red planet pushed at his suit from all sides. He would need to make this quick. Protocol dictated that no astronaut was allowed outside after the sun went down, and with good reason. Their hardsuits, despite being the absolute peak and standard of human ingenuity and technology, pulled too much power from the suit batteries at low temperatures—at the expense of the life support systems—and were no match for the nighttime cold on Mars.

“You doing okay, Scully?” he checked in as he stepped out onto the hard packed earth. She answered him with a crisp affirmative. He looked out at the horizon—the sky was getting dimmer. He glanced once at his suit’s heads up display and moved forward.

As he approached the right hand side of the rover’s front, he saw the issue immediately. The right front wheel of the rover must have fallen into some sort of hole, and the frame of the rover itself was resting on the hole’s lip. As he got closer, he was thinking that he could probably goose the engine to get the other wheels to compensate, but they would then run into the hole as well.

But then, something about the way the ground looked wasn’t right. He shook his head, thinking maybe the darkening conditions could account for what he was seeing, but that didn’t seem quite…

“Scully,” he began saying. “I think you might need to—”

And he suddenly pitched forward before he could finish his thought, swallowed by an all encompassing blackness.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #mars #mars AU

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xsugarysweetsx · 3 years

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Congrats on 2k mama sweet,,,!! :))

Since there is no sk8 requests yet how about option 2 - Kaoru x reader <3 Had this thought after reading ur arranged marriage fic... how about at the start of the marriage reader thinks that Kaoru is cheating on her when he sneaks out at night but after he tells her about S, reader feels kinda silly for thinking so.. next thing you know Kaoru is taking reader to all the beefs as his lucky charm. Reader even has a matching costume and the others start calling her "Lady Cherry" or smth,, teaches reader to skate (she's lowkey jealous of carla >.<) + some domestic fluff (what if reader finds out she's pregnant....) This doesn't have to be connected to the other fic & you can ignore the cheating part if u like... :-*

A/N: :0 Lady Cherry is a super smart name!

other fic here

Please enjoy~🍰

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

There he went again...

The sliding door of your shared room altered you from your sleep. This was the 6th night in a row that he left without a word in the middle of the night. The first 2 nights you thought he was simply tending to business and was just busy. After the 4th day, you were suspicious and a bit hurt. He did tell you he didn’t want to hurt you and treat you right....so where was he going?

This was another night he had gotten up, so instead of staying in bed you followed him.

“Carla, make sure to lock the doors when I leave“ he said to his AI

“Yes, master“ you scoffed. You had to admit the stupid computer got on your nerves. He practically loved talking to her and every time she answered him, he gets all giddy. You were really jealous but you wish he’d get that way with you.

Just as he was going to leave you called for him

“Kaoru?“ he froze and turned around “It’s late...“ you said coming closer to him. That’s when you noticed what he was wearing, he was in a sleeveless yukata with a black mask over his face, and a...skateboard?

“Y/N I...um...“ being that he can’t speak about S he was contemplating whether to tell you or not. But you were his wife and he wanted to be open with you on everything. However what you said next caught him off guard

“...if there’s someone else please just tell me...“ and the way you looked when you said it just broke his heart. Did you really think he was cheating? Even though this was arranged, he couldn’t ask for someone better to be his wife. You were smart, shy but bright, not to mention beautiful.

“Y/N“ he walked to you and rests his hand on your shoulder “I would never cheat on you and I assure you there is no one else.”

“Then why do you leave at night?“ you ask

“*Sigh*....I go skating.“ he said bluntly. There was nothing to hide from you and it was all true

“...huh“ he lifted his board for you to see

“Some friends and I go skateboarding in a secret location for races and such. We only go at night so we go unnoticed.“ he held up a small pin “It’s called S..now that you know you can’t tell anyone. Now go throw something on, we’re heading out.“

Just as he said you were heading out in the dead of night. And of course you had to ride on Carla, every time he spoke to her it was like he was talking to his crush. As you approach a gate with two guards he gives you a larger sticker of the letter ‘S’. You show them to security and make it inside where people had started screaming. You knew he was popular among women but this was more than you thought

“Lord Cherry!!” one screamed

“Kao-”

“Cherry” he interrupted

“What?”

Getting his bike to a stop he helps you off and says “we don’t use our real names here for security reasons. Here I’m Cherry blossom.”

So what he was telling you was true. You honestly felt a bit silly for jumping to conclusions so quickly. Before he was off to what he called a ‘beef’ he introduced you to JOE. You were surprised to see the popular chef here as well, although you knew they had been friends for years. The large screen in the area showed you just how goof he was at this.

He was fast but graceful, sharp an precise on corners. The crowd only cheered louder than before.

“So, you’re the one he’s been talking about huh?“ Joe asked

“He’s been...talking about me?“ you asked

He nodded “He was gone for like 3 days in a row not to mention he was brushing off more women now. That’s when he told us there was someone he wanted to be loyal to.” okay, now you felt really silly. After the race was done and over with Cherry had made his way back to you. He comes and embarrass you and whispers in your ear

“You brought me good luck.“ you felt your heart skip a beat from the feeling of being close to him

“oooo, look at Lord Cherry with his lady~“

“Shut up you big oaf!!“

During the next few months you had gone with him to almost every beef. You had even gained a name for yourself, ‘Lady Cherry’. You had become quite popular among some men there and even cherry’s female fans. He would usually bring you as his ‘lucky charm’, it was cheesy but sweet at the same time. They also had a habit of saying

“The Cherries have arrived“

On his free time he would actually taught you how to skate, well he tried anyway. Balance wasn’t exactly easy and being from a traditional family, this was unusual for you. You’d be holding on to his shoulders while his hands held your waist

“Don’t let me fall“

“You’re doing just fine dear. Why don’t we try some tricks“ he offered

“Are you sure you’re the man I married?“ you ask with a smirk

“The one and only dear“ he kissed your cheek

It was honestly so cute to him. You’d have a scared but excited look on your face. Your cheeks would turn pink and it just made his heart fluttered. On top of all that you were willing to indulge in something he has loved from a young age. He always took you with him to each beef he attended. Both for showing you off an he is in love with the idea of winning every race for not just himself but for you as well.

Although tonight you wouldn’t make it to the beef. He was going to race Joe but that was put on hold. You had been feeling sick all day and you just finished emptying your stomach. As much as you told him to go, he refused to leave.

“You’re my wife and you’re clearly not okay“ he said helping you up off the floor “you come before any beef or competition. Now come on, let’s get you to the hospital and get you checked out.“

A short drive to the general hospital was taken that night. No, he would not wait until tomorrow morning. He wanted to know that you were okay and didn’t have anything terminal. After speaking with the nurse and giving some blood and urine samples you both patiently waited. You leaned against him playing with the digits of his fingers.

*Knock knock* “Ma’am we have your results” the doctor says holding up a couple of papers and even some medicine. “well, you’re clear for any terminal conditions or diseases. although you have some hormonal imbalances and some new ones kicking in.”

“Meaning?“ Kaoru urged him on

“Congratulations, you’re 4 weeks pregnant.“

“....“ you both sat in shock at the news. You were pregnant? Well, you two were active, and maybe Kaoru has his own little rituals. Either after or before a beef he’d get frisky and was set on pleasing you both. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that this would have happened, still it was shocking news

“These are some prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take for the month. Make sure to make an appointment to check on the baby alright?” giving you the vile of pills he takes his leave leaving you both in silence. What were you supposed to say? How were you going to deal with this? Were you even ready?

“-together.“ you didn’t catch his whole sentence

“I’m sorry what was that?” you ask him

“We’ll this together alright?“ he took your hand in his “believe me I’m as shocked as you are but, we’ll figure this out together okay?“

“Alright“ you smile back

“We should probably start with a bigger house for the three of us“

“Kaoru, come on it’s just paint I can-“

“You are not moving a muscle“ he cut you off “I want you to rest all you can. You’re making a baby and that’s enough.“

To say he was strict during your pregnancy was an understatement. As soon as your belly started showing you were no longer going to beefs with him. You were currently 6 months along, and expecting a girl! Kaoru was over the moon to know it was a girl. he would have been happy with a boy too, but a little copy of you was like a dream. He couldn't wait to see the little girl that would look like you and act like him.

Today was nursery day, which meant painting, building and organizing. Kaoru had you only fold and organizing the clothes and things while he painted. Of course being your idea you had called the boys over to help. Joe was building some stuff along with Shadow. Langa and Reki were actually helping to paint the walls.

“I appreciate you guys coming to help“ you smile

“Hey it’s no problem, at least you told us about it“ Joe commented. Oh yeah, he also wanted to keep it a secret so that

‘the idiot wouldn’t ruin your pregnancy‘ which made you laugh for a good 5 minutes. But they were very good help and made the process easier

“Hey so what are you naming the baby?“ Reki asked

“Well, Kaoru kind of wanted to associate it with his skate name so we agreed on Sakura.“

“AAWWHH“ everyone said out load slightly teasing him. Without turning from the wall he said

“....I just wanted a beautiful name for her was all.“ although he was cold at times they knew he meant well especially for his family. A while late Joe made a small dinner for you all to enjoy. You thanked them for coming over and you were done for the night. You were putting on some lotion over your rounded middle when Kaoru came behind you. He wrapped his arms around and over your own hands and rested there for a moment

“Who would have thought we’d be here huh?” You whisper

“In all honesty I was hoping for it” he admired “before we married you were described as a caring and sweet woman. But you were so much more once we were married. You’re compassionate, intelligent, stubborn, beautiful, and absolutely perfect” he said kissing the side of your head “and now, you’ve given me the gift of being a father. Thank you”

Turning in his hold you wipe away small tears “oh Kaoru , thank you too. You’ve treated me like I’m the only person you need. On top of that you take care of me but still give me my freedom. I love you..”

“And I love you” he rests his forehead against yours as his fingers trace over your baby bump.

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

I hope this was okay!❤️

#kaoru sakurayashiki x reader #kaoru sakurayashiki #cherry blossom x reader #sk8 the infinity x reader #sk8 the infinity #sk8 cherry blossom #cherry blossom #sk8 the infinity fanfic #sk8 fanfic #sk8 x reader #sk8 kaoru #anime #anime x reader #arranged marriage au #sk8 the infinity fluff #anime fanfiction #fanfiction #sk8 the infinity pregnant

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thr-333 · 4 years

Text

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 1

No, no ignore the smily face i assure you it means nothing foreboding, nothing foreboding at all.

Next >

---------

“It’s suspicious,” Marinette glares as they leave customs.

“What would that be, Mari?” Chloe yawns, not bothering to dedicate her limited remaining brain power apparently.

“Lila,” She whispers back, “She’s been so quiet all the way here,”

“What about how she weaseled her way into first class?” Chloe yawns again, sleep mask resting on her head.

“Or tried to steal your bag,” Kagami says with venom, her having saved Marinette from that disaster.

“Accused you of giving her the wrong flight time,” Adrien adds, somehow being full awake even after their long flight.

“Slipped metal into your pocket so security would go off,” Chloe downright glares at Adrien, but would never admit to the bags under her eyes.

“Came by and woke you up every time you fell asleep,” Kagami looks at her pointedly, shadows under her eyes being her only give away.

“Too quite,” Marinette whispers, the list going largely ignored as they approach the security scan.

“Just relax Mari,” Adrien pats her shoulder, not enough to break her concentration, “Lila will be so distracted by being in Gotham she won't have time for you,”

Adrien was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

This is Lila they're talking about.

“Oh Marinette!” Lila all but yells as Marinette is placing her bag in a tray, “I’m so glad you didn’t go through with it,”

Marinette cringes, the security guards all looking her way as Lila dances off. She just sighs as she is escorted away by the airport security, to the protest of her friends and not much else.

“No sir I am not holding any firearms or weapons,” Marinette answers as monotone as possible, the security guard didn’t deserve her ire not matter how tiresome this was getting.

“We interview the source,” Oh no “Apparently you were discussing terrorist activities,”

“I was not sir, Lila must be mistaken,” Yep big mistake, I’m sure that's all it is , “I’m simply here for a class trip,”

“You’re wearing a bulletproof vest,”

Yeah probably should have left that one at home

“My parents are protective, they know how dangerous Gotham can be,” They were not fans of the horror stories Aunt Selina used to tell her from this city, “They insisted I have it as protection,”

While they most certainly wanted her to be safe the vest was more her idea. It was also more for enabling trouble than avoiding it. At least she was trying to be safe about secret crime fighting.

“Makes sense,” He sighs from across the table, checking through some paperwork, “You’re seventeen, here on a class trip right?”

“Yes sir,”

“Well if you’re here on a Wayne funded trip they probably did and extensive background check,” He pauses for a minute looking deep in thought, “Alright then, you can go,”

That seems kind of lax

“Are you sure?”

“We literally have super villains walking through here every other day,” True that, “You’re holding no weapons and have been endorsed by the Wayne's that's better than most people that have been in here,”

“Well if you’re sure,” Marinette stands awkwardly walking to the door as he waves her off, “Is there anything I need to sign, or…”

“Unless I want to fill out extra paperwork, no,” He seems so tired, Marinette wished she could get back at Lila for making his job harder.

“Have a good day then!” She smiles brightly, getting a small one in return.

She leaves, the security guards handing back her bag, fortunately not mentioning the miracle box or her Kwamis. She smiles brightly, even with Lila trying to ruin her trip she could still enjoy her time here in Gotham- and her phone buzzes with an Akuma alert.

With a sigh, Marinette ducks into the nearest bathroom, locking a stall behind her.

“Kaalki,” The Kwami zips out of her bag, “Tikki, Combine,”

With a flash of light followed by another she appears in Paris dropping Kaalki’s transformation.

She looks over the city, some Akuma attacking the Eiffel tower. At least they didn't seem to be the brainwashing type, she didn’t have Chat Noir there to help with crowd control.

With a flip she jumps, planning to kick the Akuma on the way down. They dodge and she lands in front of them instead.

“Well, well if it isn’t the bug,” The Akuma, in a horrible patch work costume mocks, a purple mask appearing over their face, “Hand over your miraculous!”

How about you come and make me Hawkmoth? I promise to stick that cane up your ass

Oh how she wishes she could say just that, but it wouldn't be very Ladybug of her. Why did the younger her have to have a stick up her butt?

“Not today Hawkmoth,” She says instead, making sure to put the practiced amount of enthusiasm into it, “Or any other day for that matter,”

“How are you going to save Paris without your little kitty cat?”

How are you going to beat me with that terrible fashion sense

Besides Chat Noir deserved a break. At least she hoped he was taking a break, he couldn’t tell because of secret identity reasons. It wasn't like she had any right to stop him, she was having a vacation in Gotham right now, and she was out all the time for work. She could manage without Chat for a while, he deserved that much.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect the people of Paris,” Ladybug remembers to answer the question.

“Hand over your miraculous now!” The Akuma lunges at her

I should have chosen a different persona

She dodges the beam of light that can’t mean anything good. Jumping back to get some distance.

Chat Noir had the right idea

She bites back the cutting remark on the tip of her tongue. Instead throw out her yo to wrap around their arm. The Akuma pulls it forward, sending her through the air. She leans into it swinging around to get a better vantage point, studying the monologuing Akuma below.

Maybe I can for Starling

She has created Starling as a vigilante identity to use in Gotham, if the class was ever in trouble. No not if, when . With a sigh she summons her lucky charm getting a table tennis paddle.

Although I’m only meant to use that identity as a disguise to protect the class

The only thing that stood out was the Akuma's hand, she'd have to gather more information before striking.

Maybe Starling can have a word or two with Lila, that could be fun

She drops down in front of the Akuma. They seemed to like monologuing, maybe all she had to do was probe a little bit.

“Why would you want to side with Hawkmoth?”

“This is my family's greatest heirloom it has been passed from generation to generation for centuries, some fool broke it and I was crushed having disappointed all my ancestors!” The Akuma holds up a broach type jewel, “But Hawkmoth- Hawkmoth brought it back and now my greatest and dearest treasure will forever be-”

Ladybug smacks it to the ground, crushing it underfoot.

The Akuma looks at her shocked, letting out a long drawn out gasp. Marinette does not meet their eye as she catches the Akuma. She throws the paddle she used to smack it out of their hand into the air to cast the cure.

I must be really jet lagged, I’m usually at least a little more creative than that, but it worked

She pretends not to see the reporters coming in for interviews, seeing the victim and their broach in one piece. She makes a speedy exit, needing to transport back to Gotham before the class get too ancy.

“I’m sorry the rented bus left a long time ago,” The attendant informed her, looking sorry for the dishevelled teen.

Marinette groaned, so much for running around the airport for thirty minutes with a dead phone. Thanking the attendant she sulks off to collect her bag instead, she’d have to figure another way to the hotel.

She spends another hour hunting down her bag. Chasing after leads of people who might have mistook it. Checking again with Airport security, who again pulled her aside for having a suspicious missing bag. Luckily the security guard before defended her, she brought him a coffee and two for herself.

“Maybe someone will return it?” Tikki whispers, her and Kaalki hidden in the folds of her scarf.

“It’s fine Tikki,” Marinette sighs, halfway through her first cup in under a minute, “I have replicas of all of them anyway, I’ll just grab some samples from the MDC fashion show,”

She’d have to stop by later, the outfits should have been transported last week along with most of her recent catalogue. The only problem was all the other necessities she lost. But that wasn’t a problem, she carried the miracle box in her backpack and that's all that really matters.

“And some of my… special outfits when we go back home,”

She had altered her current outfit to transform into her vigilante disguise. Her scarf pulled up and could be turned inside out into a mask. Her skirt could be transformed into a cape and hood combo. A zip down the middle of the skirt to split it for the cape and a zip up hood that lay flat along her skirt. She simply turned it inside out and wore it around her shoulders. Combined with a bullet proof vest it wasn't half bad, her belt full of weapons could always be hid under her skirt which was a big plus.

She sighs waiting for a taxi in the cold Gotham air, hating it more than most. Although she supposed superhuman strength was a fair exchange for extra cold fingers. Marinette fought to stay awake, she had also been holding Kaalki for so long she was starting to develop the ability to sleep standing up and would doze off randomly. Certainly helpful at times, but not right now.

“Hello,” Marinette is startled out of her drowsiness.

She looks at the hesitant young man before her, looking just as tired as she is.

“Hello?”

“Is something the matter?” Something sparks at the back of her mind, a feeling she often gets from Chloe whenever she is helpful.

Do I look that bad?

“Just a mix up with transportation,” She smiles, he clearly knows it’s fake.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No I’m-” She sighs, what could go wrong getting in the car of a random person in Gotham, “Yes, I do thank you,”

“Over here, I’m Tim by the way” He stifles a yawn, leading her towards a limousine, the door being opened by a driver.

“Marinette, here,” She hands over the extra coffee, “You look like you need it just as much as me,”

Tim looks at her like a god sent, taking the coffee as they reach the limo.

“Good call Alfred,” Tim whispers to the driver, slipping into the car.

“Hello miss, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” She shakes his hand, something stronger fires at the back of her mind, a true holder perhaps? But Chloe was a true holder right?

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She smiles, trying to assess what miraculous would suit him.

“Best get inside Miss Dupain-Cheng,” She climbs inside at Alfred's behest, “Gotham is awfully cold for a Lady,”

She gets the feeling that is not chivalry.

“Where to Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asks, already in the driver's seat.

“Wayne hotel please,” She pulls her backpack onto her lap, still regarding Alfred suspiciously.

“Traveling alone?” Tim asks absentmindedly, still nursing his coffee cup.

“I’m here with my class, they left without-” No that's no good , “I got held up they went ahead,”

“Class… staying at the Wayne hotel…” Tim mumbles to himself.

“I believe what Master Tim is trying to ask is if you are part of the Martha Wayne foundation trip,” Alfred informs from the front seat.

“Yeah that,” Tim takes another scalding gulp of coffee.

“Yes I sent in the submission, I’m still surprised we got it,” Marinette had been thrilled at a trip to Gotham, it is where her Aunt Selina lives after all.

“You seem very responsibility Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Alfred complements, “Almost as if you could shoulder the weight of Paris,”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Marinette tenses getting more than a little unsettled, he seemed to know something more.

“Not to worry, I have close connections with the Wayne's and was aware this years class was from Paris is all,”

“I see,” Marinette nods along, the possible meaning behind the comment still being concerning.

“We forgot your bags!!!” Tim suddenly yells, jumping up and making Marinette jump, they both curse in sync as they spill coffee on themselves.

“It’s alright!” luckily the coffee landed on her black tights, so no noticeable stains, “My bags were stolen,”

“Oh…” Tim relaxes back, “Wait… that's not alright at all!”

“It’s fine, I already have a plan to get some spare clothes and I just need to run to the store,”

“Right… to the Wayne hotel was it?” Marinette nods and Tim starts tapping away at his phone.

She fishes out some wet wipes from her bag, passing them to Tim, who looks confused until she points out the growing coffee stain. With a smile and a few more taps at the phone he takes them off her.

“Left behind and bags stolen, doesn't sound like your Lucky day,” Alfred presses, and he needs to stop, it could be chance, surely its just chance.

“I guess not,”

You don’t know the half of it.

“Well I hope the rest of your day is much better,” Tim bids as they pull up to the hotel.

“Thank you, and thank you so much for the ride,” Alfred opens the door for her to get out.

“Not a problem,” She waves them off, watching them disappear down the street.

They’re nice, probably wont ever get to see them again, thats a shame

“Dick! Holy fuck!” Tim kicks down the door of his brothers room, “I just met the nicest girl who's had the shittest day on earth,”

“First of all welcome back, how was your trip?” Dick greets hanging from the ceiling as Tim takes his desk chair, “Second, what are you talking about?”

“Met a girl at the Airport who didn’t have a ride, she gave me coffee,”

“That's enough to buy your loyalty,” Dick grins, Tim flips him off.

“Listen, she's part of that Martha Wayne Foundation trip and her class left her at the Airport!”

“What?!” Dick drops from the ceiling onto his bed, “Thats so dangerous, especially in Gotham,”

“Right?! She even had her luggage stolen!” Tim pushes the chair over to Dick, “And she was still so nice, even after an eight hour flight!”

“You said she was part of the Wayne foundation trip?” Dick asks, getting a nod from Tim, “Yeah, we are definitely seeing her again,”

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

The Problem With Birthdays

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You want to enjoy your birthday with Loki, but your fears that one day no one will love you are keeping you from having fun. Warnings: a bit angsty; fluff A/N: 1/2 Happy Birthday to my best friend @lokistan!! 🥳🥳🥳 May you have the most wonderful day ever. As requested, here’s a birthday fic for you! I hope you enjoy ❤️ 2/2 This is technically a sequel to The Secret Admirer, but you don’t have to read that to enjoy this 😄

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Darling?” Loki called, walking into the common room where you were on the couch, book in hand.

“Right here, my love. What’s up?”

“We need to talk.” He came and sat beside you as set your novel down. He took your hand in his and pressed a quick kiss to the back of your knuckles. “About your birthday.”

“You know how much I love talking to you, but I actually have to go meet Carol and Lauren in the lab. Talk later?”

“You are avoiding this,” he replied simply as you stood up. “You know you can tell me anything, right my darling?”

You stood before him and fidgeted with your charm bracelet, a nervous tic you’d picked up ever since you started wearing it. It had been a gift from Loki back when he’d been your secret admirer, not your boyfriend. You were beyond happy with how things had worked out, and your relationship was the most pure, perfect thing you’d ever experienced. Still, doubts filled your mind. You’d never dared hope he was actually your secret admirer those many months ago, but you’d fantasized that he was. It was an understatement to say you’d been pleasantly surprised when he came clean. The smile he’d given you that night was perhaps the most radiant one ever.

“I know,” you finally replied. “Just, later. Ok?”

“As you wish.”

He pulled you back down for a kiss before letting you go to the lab. He had a feeling you’d made no plans to meet up with your friends, but if you wanted to go, he’d never hold you back. And that extended to if you wanted to leave the relationship, which is what he feared was happening now. With a sigh, he stood, too. He had a party of sorts to plan. Nothing big, just a small dinner for the Avengers. He knew that’s what you would want, considering how you seemed to wish to avoid anything to do with your birthday in the first place.

Meanwhile, you arrived at the lab where your two best friends were testing a new invention. You smiled as Lauren, Tony’s newest lab assistant, tested what you could only figure were jet pack boots of some kind. Kind of like the ones on the Ironman suit, but disguised to look like normal shoes. Carol flew beside her, making sure she didn’t fall and hurt herself. Captain Marvel was in between intergalactic missions at the moment and was staying at the Tower to help keep an eye on things here on Earth. You didn’t know what it was about the two of them, but the three of you just clicked, and were now an inseparable trio.

“Hey! What’s up?” Lauren greeted once she had both feet planted firmly on the ground again.

“You look upset. Everything ok?” Carol asked, propping her elbows on one of the lab tables.

“Relatively ok, I guess,” you replied, playing with your bracelet again. You were holding the horse charm in between your thumb and forefinger. Loki had given it to you as a gift, a reminder of when he’d confessed his feeling in a horse drawn carriage. “Just not looking forward to tomorrow.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Carol said. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s silly.”

“Look at me,” Lauren said, gently gripping your arms and giving you a light shake. “Don’t say that. Your feelings always matter; they’re not silly.”

“Thank you,” you said. “That means a lot to me. But, really, it’s alright.”

“Fine. But we’re here if you need us,” Carol said as they captured you in a group hug.

As you thanked them again, you could only hope that tomorrow would come and go without much fanfare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you woke up so cozy in your bed, you didn’t want to get up. Maybe you could while away your birthday in bed, pretend you were sick. But, no. You knew that would only push celebrations back, not stop them.

“Good morning, darling,” Loki said, knocking on your door. “Are you awake?”

“I am,” you called in reply. “Come in.”

“Happy Birthday, my sweet,” he greeted, walking in. He sat next to you on your bed and planted a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered close to your skin as if he was hesitant to let you go, as if he thought he’d never be allowed to kiss you again. You looked up, your nose brushing against his, and kissed him on the lips. He smiled. “And how are you doing today?”

You’d never actually told him what was wrong yesterday. You wanted to talk to him, you really did, but you worried that by telling him your fears, they would come true.

“I’m ok, I guess.”

“Just ok?” he gasped. “Well, I know what will make that better.”

He waved his hands and trays of foods came flying in. There was bacon and pancakes and pastries and fruit bowls and just about everything else you could want. Honestly, it was far more than you could eat, but you definitely planned on sampling everything. You beamed at Loki, hugging him as he pulled you onto his lap.

“Breakfast in bed, darling?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, please,” you grinned back.

You sat for a while longer, eating and watching your favorite show. Eventually you decided you might as well get up and face the day. Loki left to go make the final preparations for dinner while you showered. A little less than an hour later, you reluctantly got out of the warm water, and sat on your bed once more in a robe, just staring at a wall. You don’t know how long you stayed there for, but it took a great effort to stand up and get dressed.

Once you had on your comfiest pants and favorite sweater, you tried to leave the room. You ended up flopping down on the bed again. You wanted to spend the day with your friends, not to mention Loki, the love of your life, but your worries were petrifying you.

“Is everything ok in there?” Loki asked, at your closed door once more.

“Sort of.”

“May I come in?”

You got up and opened the door for him. If only it was as easy to do that metaphorically as it was literally. He gently cupped your cheeks, his thumb gently stroking your warm skin, an unasked question in his eyes. You looked down, unable to bear disappointing him. It hurt you to shut him out like this; you’d always been honest with each other. You gave him a shy smile as he carefully tilted your head up and kissed you again.

“I, uh, I guess I promised we’d talk,” you said.

“You did, but I will not hold you to it if you are uncomfortable sharing.”

Gosh you loved this man. “I want to talk, it’s just...” you sighed, and pulled him back over to the bed to sit again. “Birthdays are supposed to be a day to celebrate, right?”

“Indeed they are.” He softly caressed the side of your face, looking very much like he wanted to kiss all your troubles away. “Because we all love you.”

“Well, that’s just it,” you whispered, your voice soft as you turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in your eyes. “What if one year everyone realizes that they don’t love me? Then I’ll be spending every year, every day, every minute alone. I... I don’t want to lose you.”

Loki held you to his chest as you began to sob, wiping the now fallen tears from your cheeks. He cooed and kindly shushed you as you got it out of your system. You’d held it in so long you’d grown numb to the pain, but now you were feeling it full force.

Loki moved your sweater out of the way and kissed your shoulder, moving up your neck and to your wet cheeks. His heart broke a little bit as he tasted the salty drops on his lips. He so wished you hadn’t kept this bottled up, that you’d shared with him. Perhaps it was a little selfish, but he did also feel a spark of happiness at the moment of your confession since he thought you were about to say you didn’t love him anymore. Your thoughts were quite the opposite, in reality, and he cursed himself that he let you think that way for even a fraction of a second.

“I will always love you, darling,” he said as your cries slowly came to a stop, leaving hiccups in their wake. “And when I say always, I truly do mean forever and beyond the constraints of time. It was like a dream when you told me you felt the same way. My very own heavenly angel loved me, too. My heart, my soul, my passion, my darling. My love. Your insecurities are valid; everyone is allowed to have them. But I beg of you, come to me next time. We can work through them together.”

You sniffled to stop another set of tears. “I know. Thank you, Loki. I was worried that if I told you, you’d realize that you didn’t love me. But I know you do, really. And I love you so, so much, too.”

He pulled you down to be laying on the bed and wrapped his body around yours. When you were feeling better, you chatted a bit, keeping the conversation light after the heavy topics you’d been discussing. You finally told Loki you felt ready to go out and face the day, which was more then halfway over at this point. He checked to make sure you were certain of your decision, and after a kiss to each of your eyelids and the tip of your nose, escorted you out of your room.

“Happy Birthday!” the Avengers greeted you as you made your way into the common room.

Loki had taken your desire to keep celebrations simple to heart. There was a banner and some balloons, but that was it in the way of decorations. As for the team, they gave you kind hugs and thoughtful gifts, but no one made too big of a deal out of it. No shouting or crazy partying, just some quality time spent doing puzzles and playing board games and watching movies. Carol, Lauren, and a few of the others even hilariously recreated some of your favorite scenes from the films you’d picked. Of course, they were all making sure you knew you were loved and appreciated, too. In other words, it was perfect.

Dinner and dessert, your favorites served at both, were also amazing. You spent the time reminiscing and sharing stories from your childhood. Soon after, you retired to your room. After you got changed into your pajamas for the night, you met Loki in the living room of your large quarters. He was fiddling with something you couldn’t quite make out.

“What’s that you got there?” you asked, perching on the couch next to him.

“It is another gift for you, my darling,” he replied, presenting it to you.

You opened up the small pouch he’d handed you and pulled out a charm. It was a key, and you immediately added it to the growing collection on your bracelet.

“Thank you, my love,” you said. “It’s perfect.”

“And that is not all,” he grinned as you looked at him with excitement and surprise written plainly across your features. He pulled out a charm of his own on a necklace, hidden by his shirt. It was a heart with a lock carved into it. You looked again at the key and realized it would fit perfectly. “I want you to know that you have the key to my heart. I love you, my angel.”

“And I will protect it with everything I have in me. Because I love you, too, Loki. More than I can ever say.”

“Happy Birthday, darling.”

It may take some time, but you think you could grow to like your birthday. At very least, as Loki kissed you again, you knew you never had to worry about being left alone. No, not when Loki would be there for you until the end of time and every moment after.

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mccoymccoymccoy · 3 years

Text

Riker - No Drinks

A/N I KNOW a shift on enterprise d wouldn’t end at 1900 yes i looked at the shift times but… it’s my story and i wanted you to get off at 1900 so for god’s sake you’re getting off at 1900.

Edit: forgot ten forward doors slide open LOL changed that line.

Word count: 2399

“Doctor!”

You spun on your heel away from the ensign you were advising, snapping to attention to greet your commanding officer. You had to try really hard not to be too casual- Riker had such a friendly face and demeanor. It may be okay for him to be casual with his crew, he’s earned it, but you’re not commanding officer. You’re the head of the science department.

“Yes, sir?” You replied, meeting his eyes. He smiled. “Ease up, Doc. I was just coming to ask if you’d care to head over to Ten Forward after your shift for a drink.”

Huh? Why would he want to get a drink with you? He’s your superior officer, as you just reminded yourself. You did recognize that being the head of the science department aboard a galaxy class ship was a pretty big deal, but your self esteem had never been that high, and you tended to greatly overlook your worth. Taking a second to add that to the equation to solve the question of why would he ask me why would he ask me, you concluded that he may want to learn more about what’s going on in your department. Maybe he’s interested in the specs of the volcanic rock you had him beam aboard for you and your team to study the other day. This all ran through your head at the speed of a blink, and you responded, “Of course, sir. I’ll be off at 1900, will that be okay?” He grinned. “Great. I’ll see you there, then.”

“Aye, sir,” you finalized as he turned and walked back in the direction he came. Such a quick visit. Had he really waited for a peaceful minute in the bridge to run down to you? Why not use the comm? Sighing, you turned as well, facing the ensign once again who had started giggling by the end of the quick encounter- She saw how flustered you’d gotten, despite not showing it to the commander. Behind your back, however, the skin around your nails was being picked raw, all for the ensign to notice. You sighed again, this time at her, trying and failing to keep from smiling. “Hush, ensign. Let’s get back to the lab.”

The rest of the day seemed to slip away from you like the beaker from your hands earlier. You had zoned out, something incredibly unusual for you. But then again, it was incredibly unusual for the commanding officer of the ship to invite you out for a drink after work! Let alone one you already happened to find particularly intriguing and attractive! The beaker was empty, thankfully, but still a bit of a hassle to clean up. “I’m off,” you called from the doorway, nodding in the direction of the ensign from earlier. She giggled and waved you away, and you finally set out for Ten Forward.

Regardless of the actual temperature, it always felt warm in there- it had such a positive atmosphere, as the only place people could truly relax most of the time. You entered quietly, trying to not disturb the dim and hum. Guinan smiled at you warmly as you walked by, which you returned, of course. Wouldn’t be the same without her here. Looking back in front of you, you instantly spotted Commander Riker sitting at a table close by, a drink in hand and one waiting on the opposite side for you. He looked pretty like a statue sitting there, lit up from the glowing table. You swallowed hard and tried to shove those thoughts out of your head.

“Y/N! Hey. Glad you came, I was getting worried you wouldn’t show.”

You tried not to blush as you slipped your lab coat from your shoulders and onto the back of your chair as you sat down. “And disobey my commanding officer? I think not,” you laughed. His usual pep faded for a moment, face growing slightly solemn. “Is that how you see this?”

That damn equation started running through the halls of your minds again. Commander. Friend? Superior officer. Date? You looked down. “Well, sir, I thought maybe you had called me here to ask about how it’s going in my department. Did I think wrong?”

The smile returned to his face slightly, chuckling lightly before responding: “It’s not a work matter, Y/N. I was actually hoping to get to know you a little better, to be friends. I mean, if that includes talking about work, then that’s alright too, I just-” your chin tilted back up and to the side slightly, a confused look. “Friends?” So he did want to be friends? It makes sense, rationally. You were technically a very crucial person onboard, despite mostly keeping to yourself.

“Yes, friends. What’s wrong with that?” You looked down again. Friends. Friends!

“Nothing, sir, just surprised is all. I thought you only liked to hang out with your bridge crew.”

“I like to hang out with them because they’re there with me. If you had work on the bridge, I’d want to hang out with you. And hey, not at work. No ‘sir’. You can call me Will.”

The man emanated a warmth unlike one you’ve ever felt. You smiled at him, leaning back into your chair and finally taking your drink. You raised it to your mouth, but asked before sipping, “Alright then, Will. What were you hoping to learn about me?” He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, at a loss. God, that was hot. “Christ, Y/N, never made friends before? You act like this is an interrogation.”

“A little direction would be nice, sir-” you shook your head, smirking as you met his eyes. “Will.”

He smiled that ever-charming smile, and his eyes seemed to glitter with what could’ve been anything- curiosity, wonder, lust? It didn’t matter in the moment. Leaning back, holding his glass by the rim, his voice suddenly seemed to be the only one in the room. “Okay then, how about this: What are you doing here? Why did you join Starfleet?”

Once he had gotten you talking, the only was he could shut you up was to talk in return and tell you about himself. The two of you continued like that for a couple hours until yawns started to invade every sentence, and Will had decided it best you called it a night. It was so exciting, you didn’t expect him to be so interesting! Cool, of course, but not all cool people are interesting. Will Riker was cool and interesting, and damn good-looking to boot. He had asked you all about what went on in the labs on a daily basis- considering he practically runs the ship, he did already know what happens, but he asked what you do specifically. On a daily basis, for fun, as challenges. He asked what places have been your favourite to visit, or rather maybe, get samples to study from. He asked what makes you tick and what unwinds you. Beyond that, he answered every one of his own questions and yours. You knew how he’d been offered his own ship but passed it up to stay here. You knew about how he loved jazz and played trombone and piano. You knew about how cunning he had grown to be in poker, how he’d outwit everyone at the table in the weekly matches, and even taught classes on it.

The door to your quarters slid open, and as soon as you stepped inside you leaned back against the wall. How could you get so tired from just talking? It was late, sure, but you spent extra hours in the lab all the time. Maybe because of the dim lighting in Ten Forward? Or, more likely, the synthehol he seemed to be pumping into you. Perhaps he forgot he was a walking fridge, and you were not. You exhaled heavily, doing your best to take off your shoes and drag yourself to bed, and as soon as you got there it was as if you’d been hit by a tranquilizer.

Many, many hours later- unknown to you, sleeping- the door chirped. It was well past your shift start, and someone seemed to have taken it upon themself to go check on you. The door chirped again, and was followed by a couple quick knocks. Met with no response, the knocker came in- what if you were hurt? Better to be safe and check, right?

Riker entered your room. Over his arm was your lab coat, which you’d left in Ten Forward the night before by accident. Stepping cautiously, he said softly: “Hello? It’s Will.” He placed the jacket over the back of a chair at your table. “Y/N?” He called out, louder this time. You rustled-

OW. You were instantly met with the signature hangover headache, cringing and scrunching your nose in pain. Hissing, you squinted at the door arch of your room, and slid off the side of your bed. Riker looked in the doorway and saw you, shuffling towards him, messy haired and wrinkly-clothed, and smiled. Huh? What’s the commanding officer doing in your quarters?

“Oh no. Back to bed with you,” he said gently. What? You did your best to stand up straight while running a hand through your hair. “Commander. What are you doing here?” A pained groan escaped despite your best efforts to appear alright. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently hold onto your arms to make sure you stayed upright. His eyes didn’t lock onto you anywhere, rather flickered all around your face as if scanning you. He looked at you thoughtfully, and responded, “You left your coat on your chair last night, I came to bring it back. You didn’t answer the door so I, and excuse me, let myself in to make sure you were okay. You’re not. Go back to sleep, Y/N.” He half guided, half pushed you back to sitting on your bed. “I’m not fine, but I’ve been worse. I’ve got to get to the lab now, probably. What time is it?” Your head was in your hands at this point. Will was walking away from you, and it made you sad for some reason- you wanted him near you. You didn’t know until he had been, but now you did.

“You’re not going to work, Doctor. You’ve got the day off today.” Your eyes darted up and you opened your mouth to object, but he cut you off right as your face twisted with pain- “My orders. Lay down.” Figuring you may as well take the opportunity, you complied. He walked back over with a hypospray and used it on you, causing the pain to almost entirely disappear immediately. You closed your eyes to enjoy the relief for a moment, and felt the bed dip next to you. Your eyes flitted open, and Riker was sitting there on the edge smiling, reaching out and petting your hair. “Commander? What are you doing?” His smile dropped slightly. “How much of last night do you remember?”

You closed your eyes again. You went to the bar. You talked. You had a drink. You had another drink, and another. Rubbing your temples, you sighed. “I remember drinking, but that’s obvious. I remember talking. Laughing. You were very pleasant, as far as I can tell. What happened?” He shifted on the bed, facing you better. “We really got to know each other, Y/N. And for that I’m glad. But if you can’t remember, I’d be more than willing to give it another go.”

His eyes had an unexplainable sort of glitter to them, as if he was really excited about what he was saying. Oh man, what did you say? You knew your headache would come back if you thought about it too hard, so you asked: “Sir, did I say anything I should know about?”

His features softened yet again, a seemingly impossible feat. He moved his hand from the crook of your neck to reach down and hold one of your hands, which in your groggy, sore state, confused you even more. “Well,” he started, barely above a whisper, “you did agree to call me Will now. And then we talked for hours. And…” He trailed off, brushing the back of your hand with his thumb. His hands were a lot bigger than yours, and it provided a sort of comfort you wouldn’t have been able to explain if asked.

“And?”

“And, well, you said you thought you might love me.”

“I think I could.” It slipped out. Your eyes widened immediately, and you felt your face flush what was probably a deeper red than his shirt. It just slipped out! You barely knew him! Tearing your hand away from his, you brought both of them up to cover your face. “I’m sorry sir, that just slipped out, I, I’m sure it’s the headache, I-” He chuckled softly, and you peeked through your fingers. “Huh?”

“You’re adorable, you know that?” You stopped peeking and blushed harder.

“Hey.” He gently took your hands away from your face and held them both, tightly this time. “I think I might love you too.”

“Sir, er- Will,” you corrected, trying to look anywhere but him, “I hate to be frank, but we barely know each other, At least, I don’t remember getting to know you very well. Love is entirely the wrong word. Sure I like you, but one night isn’t much to go off of, and you’re my superior officer, and-”

And he kissed you. Still holding your hands, he brought them close to his chest, and pressed against you ever so slightly. He pulled away, once again smiling down at you, and once again presenting a whole new level of what now appeared to be love. “Everything’s alright. People date for a reason, right? To get to know each other and see if they’re a good fit?” You nodded, doe eyed and starstruck. “Well, Y/N. Would you care to head over to Ten Forward for a date tomorrow?” He had mimicked his initial invitation. You nodded again, grinning, still in a bit of a shock over all of this. He returned your grin and ruffled your hair before standing up and turning to leave.

You grabbed his hand- “No drinks this time though, yeah?”

“No drinks.”

#Riker x reader #will riker #william riker #william t. riker #star trek #star trek x reader #will riker x reader #will riker imagine #william riker imagine #riker imagine #star trek imagine

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re-diesirae · 3 years

Text

17. Leon

Orchids. Claire could come out with really unexpected things sometimes. She didn't look like the sort of girl that liked flowers, but he found that little fact amusingly adorable. If he could make out something positive about being stranded in there, it was that he was getting to know Claire better.

Guess now I know what flowers I should buy her. Wait, why would I buy her flowers?

"I think it should be safe to go out. The sun must be out now. Let's wait for Chris and the others outside."

"Yeah. Sounds fine to me."

The pair picked up their weapons and headed out of the tower. Their way outside was calm since they found no hostiles in the building. Leon guessed that they needed to "thank" their cannibalistic friend for clearing the place for them.

The fresh air hit them as soon as they had reached the open space. Monsters aside, the place was actually nice. Suddenly, the sound of an aircraft made them look up, right on time to see Chris and company making their triumphant entrance.

"Well, look at that. We've got a welcoming party!" Barry laughed when his feet touched the ground, "What? No music and fireworks?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Barry. Guess we must have forgotten to get them while we were trying to stay alive," Claire replied with a playful smile.

"Ah, you can make up for that later, little Red," he replied with a smile.

"Claire!"

Leon stepped aside to let the siblings have their moment. It was almost funny to see how Chris lifted his sister from the ground to pull her into a choking embrace. The man looked so out of character, but Leon knew that the Redfields had a close relationship, and it was heartwarming to see them interact. It almost erased the terrible weight that had long befallen these siblings.

"God...I was so worried," Chris sighed in relief when he finally put her down.

"I know you were. I am fine, but what the hell happened to your arm? Don't tell me you let one of those B.O.W's get you. How disappointing, my dear brother."

"Never mind. I'll earn your pride later today," Chris snorted, "And in my defense, it got it worse than I did. But for real, are you sure you are alright?"

The older Redfield pushed his sister back to take a look at her. Leon knew the man wouldn't find anything more than scratches and bruises adorning her pale skin. Leon knew that because he, too, had checked her for any obvious injury, but the visible wounds weren't what he was concerned about, but rather the invisible ones. He still wasn't sure about the implications of the concussion.

"I am ok. I just hit my head a little, I think. If you got some painkillers in your first aid kit, I'd gladly make use of them."

Chris looked like he wanted to say something, but he seemed to rethink it, and instead, he pulled out a small bottle from one of his vest pockets and gave it to her.

"Here, but you'll need to eat something first. Those are a little strong."

"And I since you made the suggestion, I guess you brought me something to eat," Claire winked at him as she picked the bottle.

"Well, I don't imagine your hosts left your food lying around."

"Well, we did find a storage room with some canned food, right, Leon?"

"I must admit we've had a lot of luck this time. I guess Claire is a good luck charm," Leon smiled, and Claire rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for keeping her safe, Leon."

"Hey, I can take care of myself," Claire said, punching his healthy arm.

"I should be thanking her, for keeping me alive." Leon smiled, "there's no need for gratitude. We are all friends, and we help each other as much as we can."

"Yeah, yeah...that's nice. So how about we get that breakfast and finish this mission asap?" Barry complained.

The so-called breakfast consisted of some protein bars. The taste wasn't bad, but it definitely didn't compare with a real breakfast, but with all his years of service, Leon had learned not to be so picky about some things. The bars would fill the physiological need for energy, and they were easy to carry, so they were a practical meal for missions. Leon had grown used to eating them, but he smirked at Claire when the woman made a disgusted face after the first bite.

As they ate the soldier styled breakfast, Chris and Jill had begun the strategy meeting. Chris had brought eight men from B.S.A.A as a backup, without counting the chopper's pilot. Jill, Barry, and he were from the Elite Alpha, and the remaining five belonged to the Alpha team.

"So...studying the blueprint that you send us, there are three possible entrances to the underground facility. From the basement here; the library here or the common room in here." Jill said, pinpointing the spots.

"The information about the essays should be in the Research Center. We should try the common room's entrance," Claire suggested, "It's the most direct way to it and faster. The less time we spend there, the less likely they'll notice us."

"That is if the thing isn't blocked. What worries me now, however, is the condition down there. We don't know what monsters they kept or how dangerous they might be." Jill said, staring at the blueprints." We can guess we'll find at least one of the B.O.W's on the lists that Claire and Leon found, but there might be new specimens that were not listed."

"We'll stick together all the time. I don't want anyone wandering off on his own, understood?" Chris said to his men, " And that goes for you, too, Claire."

"I know, I know. I won't do anything reckless. I promise."

"Right, keep an eye on her, Leon."

"Get ready, everyone. We leave in 5. You two need proper gear. Come here.."

Leon glanced at Claire with a raised brow, and the redhead winked at him. After receiving a generous gift of gear and weapons, Leon finally felt more comfortable.

"That's right...Chris, we heard that you encountered a new type of B.O.W back in Hughesville."

"You don't miss a thing, huh? Guess Leon's friend filled you up already. I can't tell you much, but the creature was vicious and highly hostile. I took quite a lot of ammo and incendiary rounds to give it a scratch, but Barry's grenade put an end to it. B.S.A.A. The clean-up team probably took samples for study. You can ask about it later."

"Yeah, I was just wondering if there was a chance that it was the same strain that we encountered here."

"To tell that truth, I wouldn't be surprised." Chris sighed, shaking his head, "Ok, people. We are heading down. From here on, we are in high-risk terrain so keep your ears and eyes open. One mistake can cost your life or the team's. I'll be at a point along with Jill and Barry; Clemence and Riley, you two be at the sides while Miller, Hunter and Bailey will be at the rear. Leon and Claire, you two are stuck in the middle."

"Seriously, Chris?" Claire asked, crossing her arms, "You can't really think that Leon and I can handle those things, do you?"

"I don't doubt you can, but it's a strategic position. You two have been in harsh conditions for the past three days. I am sure your bodies won't be as sharp. Take it as a chance to rest."

"As if."

Leon chuckled. He put his hand on Claire's shoulder and smiled with a nod. He could understand Chris's reasoning: putting them in the middle would take a little of the weight from them. It didn't mean they could slack off, but at least they could catch a breath until the situation called for action. Claire let out a sigh and patted his hand.

"Ok, guess I'll let it pass."

The team headed to the main room, and, to both Leon's and Claire's disgust, they found the fresh bloodstains on the wooden floor. The man remembered the footage of the security camera they had seen and recalled that this had been the room where they had seen the B.O.W feasting on its prey.

"Well, someone didn't have much luck," Barry growled.

"Yeah, a bunch of Plaga infected locals." Leon replied, "We saw it through the surveillance camera a little before dawn. It was one of the new B.O.W's."

"So they really eat the other infected?" Jill said, perplexed as she walked to the fireplace and tainted around the bricks until she found the control panel. The woman began working to open the door.

"It seems like it is like that."

"That's crazy. I've seen those things killing each other, but cannibalism is a new thing." Barry said, staring at the bloodstain with disgust.

"They have never been very sane, to begin with, or they wouldn't make these damn monsters. Got it." Jill said, pushing back the control panel and stepping back, raising her gun.

"Trust Jill to open any lock," Barry smirked.

"I wasn't the B&E specialist for nothing," Jill winked at him.

The fireplace let out a screech as it pulled back, revealing a large metal door. The red light on the command box turned green, and the doors began to slide open. Their team had their weapons raised in case a monster jumped out of it, but the only thing beyond the door was a small square space: an elevator.

"Clear, let's move." Chris signaled, and they entered the elevator. The door automatically closed once the last man had stepped inside, and soon, it was moving down smoothly.

Leon couldn't help but feel a bit of deja vu. How many elevators heading to monster-filled facilities had he rode before? He had already lost the count. When it came to an abrupt stop, everyone raised their weapons as they watched the doors slowly slide open.

Chris stepped out with Barry. Both men looked around and then motioned them to move out. The place was clean, with no mutants, no zombies, and no living things either. To Leon, however, the stench of death was definitely in the air.

"At least there's light," Claire muttered to him, "Last time I was in a place like this, I could barely see my steps."

"The energy is still up. I guess our friends left in a rush," Jill commented.

"That if they actually left…" Chris commented.

Most of them probably hadn't. Their theory proved right as the group turned to the second corridor. There was blood splattered in the walls, more papers scattered on the floor, and Leon saw Claire bending to pick one.

"What's that?"

"Notes about a test subject, I suppose." She replied, picking another one, "Physiological changes took place two days after the first inoculation. There was no evidence of mental dysfunction yet and mutation seemed suppressed. Administration through multiple dosages showed up effective to inhibit immediate mutation. Anomalies in the blood seem to be a common treatment of the new strain," she read.

Leon looked at the papers, as well, and the blond raised an eyebrow with surprise.

"You know German?" he asked.

"Took a course during college. I work with an international salvation organization. Knowing many languages is useful."

Claire never stopped surprising him.

"These seem to be study records..." Claire said, looking through another bunch of papers.

"So those fuckers actually made a new strain," Barry growled.

"Does it say anything about the virus?" Chris asked.

"No details, I'm afraid. The report is incomplete. Some of the pages are gone, and they used codes."

Chris nodded.

"Ok, there is no need to find the rest of them if we can find the research data from the main computer," Chris said, "Let's get moving. We now know that we have hostiles down here. Stay sharp."

Leon caught Claire's worried look as she looked at her brother. They headed to the Research room, which was a couple of corridors beyond their current position. As they moved, Leon felt uncomfortable about the lack of monsters and the lack of corpses. They had come across a lot of bloodstains that were evidence of slaughter, but so far, they had not encountered the victims nor the attackers. Leon had a glimpse of Chris, and he knew that the older Redfield was having the same train of thought.

"This is the place." Jill said, checking the map, "Biomedical and Biohazard Department. What a name, huh?"

"It has a VIRUS written all over it." Barry mocked.

They entered the room with their weapons raised, but just like the rest of the facility, the place was empty. There weren't bloodstains, so at least they knew that the lab hadn't been the setting of slaughter, unlike other rooms they had passed. For an investigation department, Leon thought that the room looked simple: white walls, a set of computers, and two shelves- one filled with unknown contents and another one filled with files. There was a glass window that opened to what looked like a laboratory. The place was messed-up, but there was no blood in there, either. One of Chris's men, Clement, if he wasn't mistaken, rushed to the computer and began hacking into the system and copying all the information into the memory drive. The rest stood guard in case anything showed up.

The silence was unsettling as the only sound that filled the room was the typing. It felt unnatural, and it gave Leon the sensation that something was watching him, lurking in the shadows and waiting for its chance to strike. He saw Claire standing in front of the shelves; she was flipping the pages of one of the folders.

"Found something interesting?"

"You could say so. It seems like they were trying to make a new virus from multiple pathogens. These are viral genomes, but these are bacterial genes..."

"Why doesn't it sound new to me?"

"Yeah, I guess you must be sick of hearing it, right?"

Leon pulled out one of the folders and flipped it open. What he found inside wasn't a nice view. The first page had a picture of a woman with blonde curly hair and green eyes. Her skin was sickly pale, and her look lacked life; right next to the photo, Leon read the word FAILED.

Name: Marishka Sekinova, Subject CD:05X345

Treatment: Isolation BS-0314

Observations: patient showed fever in the first 3h after the inoculation followed by signs of mental degeneration that included symptoms similar to dementia. 48h after, she showed signs of mutation: epidermis began to degrade; muscular tissue was elongated, and the apparition of tumors in multiple parts of the body, which developed at an extremely high speed. 72h later, the mutation had extended to all the body, leaving the subject unrecognizable; signs of erratic behavior and high hostility began to appear. The subject had to be put into a reinforced isolation room to continue the monitoring, 96h later, the subject's vitality began to fall, and its body parts began to decay in a phenomenon that we've named "Rotting". The subject was found dead at 17:46 pm on July, 11th.

The file ended with a set of horrible looking pictures that showed up the evolution of the woman, so the photos went from pretty bad to horribly bad.

"Poor woman. These people really don't understand the term Bioethics. " Claire said sadly, "They have the files coded by colors: those white folders are Failed subjects, and the color tags must be the virus they were testing. Check what I found."

Claire handed him a folder. He flipped it open and just like the other file, the front page had a picture attached, this time it was the photograph of a woman with black hair, but instead of FAILED, the words: TO IMPROVE, were written. He turned the page and, like before, he found a set of pictures, but his eyes suddenly stuck in the last one.

"It's...the thing that attacked us."

"Yeah, or at least a primitive version of it, but look what it says. According to this, the mutation caused them to be photosensitive. That explains why they only come out at night time."

"Just like monsters from a nightmare, huh?"

"Yeah…"

The lights in from the ceiling flickered, and he saw Claire lookup with a frown.

"Did you...hear that?" she asked.

"Hear what?" he replied. Leon was puzzled. He hadn't heard anything.

Claire did not reply as she stared back at the ceiling.

"It's done. I've copied all the files from the system captain." Clement said, breaking the silence.

"Good, time to get the hell out of here. Don't let your guard down yet. We still don't know if there's anything ready to attack us out there."

"Yes, Captain!"

Claire pushed the folder back into the shelf and turned to Leon.

"Time for this nightmare to end…" he said, and she smiled.

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! JOIN SERVER

#my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #Resident Evil #claire redfield #Cleon #claire x leon #leon s kennedy #leon x claire

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skyland2703 · 3 years

Note

20 and 63 from the mashup list!!

(...possibly bbrae if you want because thats what i'm dying to see in Titans Academy, but i give you freedom of whichever ship you choose <3)

Sooooo BBRae you say.... *wink* (two of my fave tropes EVER!)

20: Everybody Knows/Mistaken for Couple AND 63: Teacher AU TWO OF MY FAVORITE TROPES EVER!!

I hope you like it!!!

I take wayyy too fucking long to write sooo im sorry about the delay on the prompts my friendos!!!

AO3!

Everyone knew it. It was no secret. Even if it was, it wasn’t at all, a well kept one. And the best part was, everybody was talking about it.

And it was NOT a good thing for two particular professors at the Titans Academy. Every time they were together, be it standing together, or sitting together or even when they had a joint class together. Whispers, whispers, whispers. Someone had even drawn a heart with a marker on their photograph that had somehow appeared next to each other in every single Academy yearbook that had been distributed! Of course, Nightwing planned to “go to the bottom of the mystery” being the master detective he was, but for reals, everyone knew he was the one of the two people who might have done it. The other being Victor Stone a la Cyborg.

Raven didn’t find it hard to block out the whispers and the voices. She was an empath, and would hear people’s emotions and thoughts quite regularly, and blocking them out was a sort of regular thing for her. Whispers were also easy to drown, especially when they didn’t carry any weight as such.

Beast Boy on the other hand, Raven often noticed, got unnerved when faced with things like this. He was a nice, high spirited, cheerful goofball, who didn’t really fare well at hiding emotions. If he was frustrated, flustered, annoyed, angry, or rather anything except happy, it’d show quite easily on his face. It was one of the things Raven loved the most about him, he was perfectly transparent, not like other guys who liked to keep their emotions bottled up, and not in a way like Raven’s where her emotions overloading might end up in her demonic powers getting out of control, but rather, a case of being “Wayy too cool to have emotions or be nice”.

Raven had a strong dislike for boys like that, boys who faked how they felt, and were actually really manipulative and shrewd. Beast boy was definitely not one of them. And that was one of the many reasons why she didn’t mind the whispers. If people around the academy were shipping her with someone, she was glad it was Beast boy.

She had just started grading the term papers in the teacher’s lounge, when she suddenly realised there was a question in the paper about adaptibility to adverse conditions, a question that she, Raven Roth did not put in her section of the paper. And honestly didn’t know the answer of either. Starfire had wanted the questionnaires to be set by the entire staff together, or if that was not possible with a lot of bickering, then with all the professors sending their respective questions to her, the headmistress, who could compile it into a perfect question paper that would set a challenging questionnaire for the heroes in the making.

And the teachers were allotted a group of students whose papers they had to check, whether they knew the questions or not. “You can use the help of the friends and the other teachers of the school to help you with the questions that you do not the know” she had said sweetly, “it will only make the bonds of your accord and companionship grow the stronger”

Nobody had a heart to refuse.

The first six questions were easy, and two were not from Raven’s subject of Enchantment and Charms, but simple stuff, that Raven could mark with ease, but question no. 7 was something else entirely.

“Beast boy will know the answer to this” raven muttered and got up, taking a sample paper from her desk, and dashing out of the door, knowing she’ll be back in a few minutes with some in depth knowledge of the subject.

On the way, she scanned the paper for more questions to ask Beast boy, while she was at it, so she wouldn’t have to run again and again. In the paper of forty questions, she found 8 she couldn’t do without his help.

He was standing in a classroom drawing some stuff about some animal characteristics on the white board, when Raven arrived.

“Hey” She said, standing in the doorway, beckoning him.

“Hey!!” he replied back cheerfully, and the entire class, which had been listening attentively, suddenly burst into hushed whispers.

“Beast boy I need some help” she said, blushing a bit, feeling some of the whispers reach her...

“Oh!” He blushed just as she did, it was a reflex action that happened any time she said anything to him. He scratched the back of his neck, “um mama— I mean raven, I’m a bit busy, but what happened??” No matter how busy he was, he would always make time for her.

“Umm class, try seeing the patterns in the leopard, and how they take care of their young ones, and I’ll be back in ten” he said, in his most serious voice, but the entire class burst into excited whispers again.

“Hey Rae!” He said, still blushing, still flustered, as he came out into the corridor to face her.

“I wanted to ask you some stuff” she said, handing him the paper, “first off, question seve—” before she could complete her sentence, Gar interrupted her.

“Hey, umm Rae can I ask you something?” He said, a little hesitantly, and Raven stopped short, “Sure Gar, what happened?”

“Actually… I… uh. The way you, the way you pulled me out of the classroom… won’t help with the… the whispers…” he said, a little flushed.

Raven understood. Beast Boy was again having trouble with dealing with what people said behind his back, and students, in general, can be quite mean.

“Oh” was all she said, and Waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Gar?” She asked, gently, once again, placing a hand on his shoulder, “why do you worry so much about what people say about you and me?”

He gulped, “it’s not like… it bothers me…. It’s more like…” he struggled to find the right words.

Raven didn’t need to use her empathic powers to know what he wanted to say, because deep down, in a place where she rarely let her emotions wander, she felt the exact same way.

“It’s more like you *want* them to be true.”

Garfield Logan looked at her for a long, LONG minute, trying to understand what she had just told him, and it took him a hot second, but his blush went up about a thousand times, as he realised.

“Are you… saying… that… you also… want… those whispers to be… real?” He stuttered nervously, and Raven smirked. Just like she had imagined it in her head countless times.

What was that other thing she had imagined?

Oh yes.

“The whispers… I think it’s time enough that we give the smoke a flame to brag about” she said, pulling him by his collar, closer, and softly planting a kiss on his lips. Her lips softly brushed against his, preciously, delicately, like the tiny, fluttering wings of a butterfly, just long enough that he could inhale her breath, feel the warmth of her skin, let his heart skip a few beats, before it was over, way too soon, and left a taste of her lipstick lingering on his lips.

“I’ll ask you about the term papers later” she winked playfully, spun around on her heel, and left, leaving a stunned, more red than he was green, Beast Boy who was basically at this point stranded on cloud nine, with no bounds of his joy.

Of course, this would NOT help the situation with the rumours and the whispers, and the fact that everybody knew that this was bound to happen at some point in time or another.

Beast Boy was jerked back into the present by the sound of a window pane breaking as the the entire class practically attempted to stay inside, while at the same time get as much of a view at the professors, to gawk at their conversation in the hallway through the glass windows of the classroom.

#Beast Boy #Raven #Rachel Roth #Garfield Logan #Gar Logan #Teen Titans #new teen titans #Raven Roth #Raven DC #raven teen titans #teen titans #Beast Boy Teen Titans #beast boy #i still suck at tagging #beast boy loves raven #teen titains go #titans #DC Titans

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obeymeaskme · 3 years

Text

Obey Me!: Human and Demon Hearts!

A/N: Remember to check my pinned post if you missed the other chapters! Another note; I had WAY too much fun writing the beginning of this! Hopefully it makes sense~

Chapter Three: Bonding's Mended (3/3)

Word Count: 1683

Rating: 18+

'Demon Feeding: A Start to the endless hunger of a demon's belly.

The cause of our behaviors dives deep into our past, when our kind and the celestial realm had known nothing but primal instincts. Humanity had not yet existed, and the earth realm was our battlegrounds. Flesh was torn by both Devil, Beast, and angel. Only our great Mages, now pacified by ash, can whisper to the book keepers of our carnal days. Yet while the Angelic build their realm, we still hunger, and wish to devour. Our hatred is barely ever quenched. Humans had been involved through their own ways. Growing and evolving long after our realms had taken refuge away from earth. But our history was rediscovered, and the three realms were connected.

Demon's had soon developed a taste for human souls. An almost sweet and pungent ecstasy only found in the spirit's layers. Yet the Angels seem to desire the human's souls for more pure and selfless purposes. So they say. We as a selfish kin must find ways around this. And we have. Humans are so very frail, but one cannot take from a living soul without their unwavering trust or agreement. But that's only for the whole meal. Ah yes- Just a small taste, barely a lick can satisfy. It was the Incubi, and the Succubi who have found the most pleasure in a Demon Feeding ritual. For many, a human's sensual pleasures are tied to their trust, and emotions. The Cubi have found their abilities to please have come in handy. They can easily sample the human soul, feeding of the human's energies, all while... entertaining themselves. The rest of us have begun to see the strings that connect Demons to humans as well. Even the Little Devils have their own ways. Most of us don't need a physical contract, or to eat away at their little dream worlds. No, just the sheer aura of a human's daily stress and anger are so divine, so tempting. No wonder the human world has grown fearful of us. They now know we can touch something they used to think they fully owned.'

A chill ran through Noelle's body. Not wanting to read more as she understood the narrator's point. The second sticky note was unlabeled, but since there were two options, this was probably the most plausible.

'Underdeveloped Magic and it's consequences.

Blood, bones and sacrifices were never needed to summon us to the human realm. Though the show and the fallen harvest are much appreciated. Though we now have an issue. Malaia has expressed a growing development in the human genes. Magic. It seems that now the human realm has entered into existence, they have developed their own magic. Most have realized what they're capable of, and are learning to manipulate it. They found ways to protect their realm from our hunger and manipulations. It's knowledge that is beginning to gnaw at my mind. Chewing it thoroughly. Yet it's not the well trained ones of magic that are the problem. It is the untrained ones we must look out for. Some of them have these hideous side effects they accidentally cause. Hell's fire wasn't enough to melt the flesh of a demon, but those flame's are so old. The new ones created by human magic are so fresh it can and will burn us to the bone, and perhaps past that if one is not careful. The other effects are as follows, but are just general nature.

Wart Tongue

Seared eyesight

confusion/forgetfulness

solidifying blood

barriers-'

The rest of the chapter went unread past Barriers. Noelle had gone through the index of the book and quickly read up on the different types of barriers until she came across one that explained her situation. It was a sort of magnetic barrier that if unchecked by a human with trained magic abilities, can cause harm to both demon and human.

The rest of the afternoon she spent her time locked in the library reading about magic, and trying to find a way to break her unintentional curse. According to her research the longer a demon is close to her, the more they will think unkindly of her, and will either tear her apart while their own body suffers the same, or manipulate her into handing over her soul. She also learned as to why this didn't seem to affect the brothers the same way. The types of demons are defined by their sins, with the Demon king and his associates being the exception. Thus different sins respond to her 'barrier' in different ways. Lust, and Greed are highly tuned to sense the danger of magic. Sloth, and Pride are most susceptible to giving into their instinct, and Wrath is unaffected due to their own constant rage with themselves. And Gluttony varied Demon to Demon. However, what concerned her was those who were spawned by Envy. Though it wasn't a reason that caused the disruption between Noelle and Levi, it was still concerning. In fact if Levi hadn't chosen to distance himself they'd both be very much dead.

Noelle had sighed heavily and texted Satan about the subject. And a quick reply came back. Satan seemed giddy and impressed with her progress on the matter. He then sent messages an hour later during his break about ways they can break the spell. But first she needed to test the strength of her barrier. He suggested that the only way they could do that was to snag Asmo, for when it came to surpassing a human's free will, he was a professional of sorts. Noelle swallowed hard at the suggestion, but once Satan had calmed her down over the phone, she agreed to meet him at Asmodeus' room.

The vibrant pinks and flowers decorating Asmodeus’ bedroom made her head spin. Yet it all looked inviting. There was even a cocoon chair that hung from the ceiling. Satan, Asmo and Mammon, for some ungodly reason, were already sitting on the fancy colorful rug. Asmo jumped up and ran to hug her out of habit with literally everyone else, but stopped short and gave a shudder along with a quick complaint.

“Owaahh~ You were right Satan, it's so hard being next to her! Which is really, REALLY inconvenient.”

Noelle blushed hard as Asmo withered in what she assumed was his growing lust over his forced restraint. That did not stop her from letting a remark slip from her lips.

“Oh hush- I thought you'd be into restraints.”

Asmo gasped while Satan and Mammon tried to cover up their laughter. After about 15 minutes passed, allowing Asmo and Mammon to get over their urges to run off, they sat Noelle right in front of Asmo on his bed. The barrier shielding Noelle had to be only so thick, and Asmo had the ability to get through shields and barriers with his lustrous charm. This was making Noelle exceedingly nervous that he'd take advantage of her in some way, but that's why Mammon and Satan were there. Mammon himself had actually been talked into taking Noelle's hand and ready to run out the door with her if anything went wrong, or if Asmo tried anything. Satan was there to make sure the other two didn't do anything too stupid.

Asmodeus was becoming giddy in getting to melt away at her guard, and possibly her heart as he says, and began reciting his usual spell while looking into her eyes.

“The eye's of a young, and beautiful mortal woman. They are so deep and golden. Even under those dark brown feathery irises...”

Mammon's snorting almost broke concentration of the two's moment, but was quickly corrected by a swift smack to the back of the head, as Asmo huffed and continued.

“Tell me Noelle~ Let me look into those pretty little eyes. Please, learn to place your trust in me. Tell me your desires.”

The soft whispers of Asmo's request had flooded her senses with a heated calm. No one else but Asmo could see the hidden and still seas of her mind as it became blank. All but a few trails of thought were left behind. He could sense her clarity, and saw her unrivaled trust in him. It was warm, and soft. Like a small candle by bedside. Asmo smiled softly, and brushed some hair behind her ear, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed but she could still hear him, even then, deep in her mind as it went fully numb and the focus of her desires came to light.

“Tell me your desires”

The words vibrated behind her eyes and a single soft word came from her lips.

“Leviathan.”

“...”

“... uh-”

All too quickly Noelle had jumped in her skin as she regained her senses, and a deep violet red painted her face. When she did come back around and her vision stopped spinning from the sudden jolt, she saw the three brothers in hysterics, laughing on the floor and bed. Satan had put his hand on the wall beside him to balance himself, and covered his face. He was doing all he could to restrain his laughter. Mammon and Asmodeus had zero shame as they bellowed out, both of them grabbed at their guts, and caused Noelle's embarrassment to burn on her ears.

“Sh-SHUT UP! IT'S NOT FUNNY! WHAT DID I SAY!”

Satan was the first to calm down, clearing his throat more than once, trying to speak clearly.

“Did you not hear yourself? A-Asmo- What did you do! Tchh-”

Asmo shook his head, and had to cling onto Noelle to stay balanced on the bed.

“F-for a second I thought you said your deepest desire was- pffft Levi!”

Noelle silently stood up, covering her face and left the room while Satan yelled after her about knowing how to break the spell. But that was going to wait until she was able to recover from her current, flustered state.

#obey me: human and demon hearts #obey me #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphagor #obey me fanfic #obey me oc

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mahalidael · 3 years

Text

Those Familiar Spirits

(*sprints up to the podium* FIRST FLYNN FANFIC. sort of. if you don’t count the phantomrose96 one, but flynn doesn’t actually appear in that one so make of it what you will)

Danny was two years old when the police came to their house. He must have thought the flashing lights were fireworks; he ran outside alone to look.

He saw uniforms, a funny black and white car, and a great deal of shouting between the grown-ups. It was July, and very muggy. Flies buzzed around the police cars’ lights as Mom and Dad talked very quietly, and Aunt Alicia yelled, and the police said ma’am, please, we’re trying to help, could you just, ma’am. Ma’am.

Danny ran up to get a better look but was promptly swept up by a police officer and carried back inside as he craned his neck to hear what they were saying.

Mom went inside for a minute and made him and Jazz sit on the couch. She told them gravely, “We’re just going to talk to the nice policemen, okay? Don’t go out there.”

Danny huffed. Jazz noticed his irritation and spoke up. “Can we watch TV if we stay inside?”

“Mm-hm,” said Mom, looking out the window at the lights again, already standing up and gravitating towards them.

Jazz reached for the TV remote and hit the power button with an ease that a four year old will only exhibit when provided with sufficiently busy parents. Danny started chewing on his shirt sleeve as images flashed on the screen; they were big kid cartoons that he had no interest in.

“Mom?” said Jazz, peeking up over the back of the couch.

Mom paused in the doorway and addressed one of the policemen before turning back to Jazz. “Just a second — yeah?”

“Where’s Flynn? He likes this show.”

“Um,” said Mom.

She cleared her throat.

“That’s what the policemen are going to help us with. I’m sure he’ll be back before it’s over.”

Their cousin was not back before it was over. He wasn’t back at all, but this, like most everything else from when he was two years old, fell through Danny’s memory like it was water.

...

Jack had been wary of his sister-in-law coming over for a week. He’d also been wary when Maddie described her sister’s marriage as “getting better” and said that she was “calling off the divorce.”

Anyway, within two days of the visit Danny had gotten it into his head that his uncle’s name was Damn-It-Bob.

But the most disconcerting thing was that Jack couldn’t do much about the situation. Alicia was a notoriously private person, and considered the matter of her marriage between herself, Maddie, and Damn-It-Bob. Trying to get close enough to be allowed into that inner circle was an exercise in self-endangerment. He had tried exactly once in college, and the dislocated wrist he’d gotten out of that arm wrestling match nearly cost him his scholarship.

Getting through to Damn-It-Bob was even more frustrating. Alicia, at least, cared about Maddie’s studies. She didn’t understand them, but looked on with interest as Maddie expertly extracted a sample from the latest ghost specimen and held it up to the light for her sister to see.

Damn-It-Bob was worse than an outsider. He was a snob.

Damn-It-Bob looked like if Alicia didn’t already have a pickup truck, he’d drive a Prius, and if he ever tried tikka masala he’d brag about it. Jack had to assume that if Alicia married him, they had to have some kind of common ground, but damn if he couldn’t figure out what it was. And apparently neither could they.

He had a degree in aerospace engineering, which he constantly emphasized was a really useful science. Alicia didn’t even have to work at the logging company if she didn’t want to keep up the family business.

He tried to charm the kids with pictures of the rockets he’d designed. It worked on Danny, which, yeah, okay, he was two years old, but Jazz seemed to pick up his intentions and tried to steer Danny away. Jeez. If Jack left her alone for five minutes, she might be doing calculus when he came back.

And then there was the kid.

He didn’t even notice that he was there until the Walkers were standing in the living room. Jack had walked behind Alicia to hang up their coats and suddenly saw him standing right behind her.

The kid hadn’t said a word in the entire thirty-minute production of his family coming inside — or if he had, he hadn’t been listened to. He had this sort of rust-colored hair that stuck out in all directions, like they tied up a big ponytail on the top of his head and chopped it off instead of giving him a real haircut.

Getting closer, Jack finally saw why the kid wasn’t talking. He had his nose buried in some book. Oh, so he was one of those, Jack thought. He hadn’t personally been a child who devoured books like a woodchipper, but Vlad had.

In any case, silent reading hour was over. “Hey, bucko!” said Jack. The kid nearly jumped out of his skin, one hand snapping the book shut like a cell phone at the end of a tense call. “Thirsty for knowledge, I see? We’ve got more down in the lab.”

He shrunk away. Alicia noticed and put a hand on his shoulder as she turned her attention away from Maddie. “—so that’s how the union settled. And you two remember Flynn, right?” she said, ruffling the kid’s hair. “We brought him to Danny’s baby shower. He was so shy back then you thought the table was set by a ghost for a solid thirty minutes.”

Maddie’s eyes landed on Flynn and lit up in recognition. “Oh, yeah! I remember. You were at least a head shorter last time we saw you.”

Flynn nodded, staring at his shoes. He hugged the book to his chest like it was a stuffed animal.

Alicia and her husband chuckled politely. “Well, you might have seen him earlier if you didn’t pull out your toys to try and find that ghost,” said her husband, less politely.

“Bob, could you please be civil?” Alicia said under her breath.

“The event was delayed by an hour and we missed our flight over a bunch of—”

“Damn it, Bob—”

“It was a poltergeist, technically,” Maddie laughed nervously, stepping between them, a note of oh lord not this again in her voice.

“Hey, kids, how about we go down to the basement and check out some cool gadgets?” Jack was itching to take Flynn and the children downstairs. He had to ditch the conversation before it went south. “Wanna see what ghost bones look like?”

Flynn actually looked like he was going to respond to that, but Damn-It-Bob cut in. “Flynn probably wouldn’t be interested in theoretical science. He likes studying useful things.”

Yeah, ectoscience was theoretical. You could tell it was bad because it was italicized.

Jack resisted the urge to get passive-aggressive right back. Not in front of the children. “There’s plenty of physical things in the lab that I’m sure Flynn’s gonna love. Every kid loves lasers. Right, Danny?” he queried his son, who was chewing on the leg of the coffee table.

Danny blew a raspberry, which he assumed was a yes. Jack managed to whisk them away before the Walkers started swearing at each other.

He put Jazz and Danny down in the little area of the lab that they’d sectioned off with a foldable plastic dog gate, where Jazz made herself busy putting all the crayons in a straight line before Danny picked them up and started scribbling on the rubber tiled floor.

“So, Flynn! We’ve got some whosits and whatsits to check out. That catches ghosts,” Jack said, pointing at the gadgets skewed across the counter like exploded, “this blasts ghosts, that catches and blasts ghosts, and this is a hot dog maker. What do you wanna see first?”

Flynn shrugged and shuffled an inch backwards.

Okay, this wasn’t going anywhere. Which was odd — they’d opened up the ops center to tourists in the past for alternate revenue, and kids always seemed to be the most excited about the gadgets.

Plan B, he guessed. “What’s that book about, anyway?” he said.

Flynn hesitantly held out the book. Jack took it. It was a big, heavy book, with a hard cover titled The Collected Jack London. Jack went to open it to a random page, but was interrupted when his leafing caused something to fall out from between the pages.

It was a flower. Flynn quickly snatched it off the floor and took his book back, scowling. “It’s sabatia geu — sabatia geutianoides,” he muttered. “It’s one of the rarest flowers in Arkansas, so I can’t pick another one.” He then very carefully flipped to another page in the book, counting the page numbers in whispers until he found the one he was looking for and slipped the flower back inside.

Ah. He could work with that. “Really? Is it the rarest one you’ve got?” he said, posing a challenge.

“Uh, I have Stern’s medlar, but just a leaf I got off the ground. They’re cruh — crit — crit-i-cal-ly endangered.”

“We’ve got some samples of a pretty rare plant ourselves.”

Flynn’s eyes lit up. “Can I see them?”

Jack took Flynn off into a side room. This room was mostly like the last, though being closed to visitors, it was far less organized. He picked Flynn up and lifted him over a heap of spare parts on the floor. “Watch your step.”

A cacophony of containers were heaped on a table in the center of the room. Only a few of them were planter pots that they’d already owned; the rest were old shoeboxes and burned-out pots and pans. They were all filled with soil. Their occupants stretched their purple-black stems towards the overhead sun lamp.

“Rosa sanguinea, also known as the Massachusetts blood blossom,” said Jack. “They were grown in the 1600s — apparently they release an anti-ghost vapor. Unfortunately, we can’t prove whether it works, since we don’t have any intact ghosts to test it on, but they’re delicious.”

“That’s so weird.” Flynn rubbed a black leaf between his fingers, as if he expected the color to come off. “Roses aren’t normally hardy enough to grow inside. And the leaves are naturally black?”

“Yep. Well, maybe. We think they were mutated by long-term exposure to ecto-energy. The biggest patch of them is around Salem, and that place is a hotspot for the natural portals to the dimension ghosts live in,” he said, pointing at the pictures of such that they’d pinned to the corkboard across the room. Jack himself couldn’t believe some of the places that they’d found natural portals in. One of the pictures on the corkboard was of a portal they’d found in a public toilet. “They’re stubborn little buggers, but only in ecto-energized soil — we had to cart the dirt in these pots all the way back from Massachusetts.”

Jack snapped his fingers.

“I’ve got an idea.” He picked up a blood blossom growing in a mason jar and handed it to Flynn. “That’s yours now. Take it back to Arkansas, and it’ll protect you from ghosts.”

“Really?” said Flynn, seemingly more awestruck by the plant itself than any properties it might’ve had. “I can have it?”

“All yours! After all, who knows when you might need it?”

...

Flynn hadn’t wanted to leave Arkansas. He hadn’t wanted to sit in Mom’s funny-smelling truck for ten-odd hours while listening to them argue about money, and ghosts, and damn it Bob, would it kill you to put the toilet paper in the holder the right way just once?

At some of the rest stops, Flynn had stood in the bathroom and stared in the mirror. The door was right behind him and Dad hadn’t left the stall yet. He could just turn around and run into the woods, so Mom and Dad would talk about something other than their horrible marriage.

Because Flynn was ten years old, and the problem that he saw was nothing as complex as an incompatibility of personality, or people growing apart. The problem he saw was that they needed to shut up about the divorce.

That was all he wanted. Something to come in and make them shut up, and make the divorce go away, and put things back where they were supposed to be.

But obviously that’s not how things work. Flynn went outside and picked dandelions that were growing at the edge of the parking lot, and he held them outside the window while they were driving so the seeds would scatter all along the road, and he still ended up visiting Uncle Jack and Aunt Maddie in New York, and Mom and Dad were still fighting over stupid stuff.

Flynn kept trying to put off the tour. He knew that Dad would hate the lab. He stuck with real things, metal and chalk numbers — never mind that one of the major points of contention was the slew of Young Living boxes sitting in their garage. A better statement was that Dad rejected any science he didn’t think he could exploit. Like, son, wildflowers are nice and all, but you know that the real money’s in saffron, right? It sells for twenty-five hundred a pop and it’s not getting any cheaper. Just think about it, son.

“ —converts ectoplasm into a power source.” Aunt Maddie was showing them something embedded in the lab wall. Flynn didn’t really like ectoscience either, but that was mostly because the topic freaked him out. He didn’t like when his friends played that pencil game that let you talk to ghosts, much less when his uncle talked about ripping them apart mmmolecule by mmmolecule.

It just felt kind of rude. They were people, at some point. Everyone knew a dead person.

“Quaint,” said Dad, turning over the hot dog maker he had found on the counter. “Very quaint.” It was his usual word of condemnation. “What’s that hole in the wall?”

It was barely a hole. Not so much because of size, but because it was so badly occupied by a tangle of wire that actually entering it would be impossible. Aunt Maddie said: “Our prototype for a stable portal into the ghost zone.” Dad scoffed, but she smiled tightly and ignored it. “With a reliable and stationary portal, we can collect data faster.”

“And it took you ten years to think of that?”

“Bob, if you don’t want to see it, you can just wait in the guest room,” said Mom, rubbing her temples.

“No, it’s fine, Alicia.” Aunt Maddie sighed. “We’ve been thinking of it. It just took this long to make sure building a portal large enough for a human to enter would be safe. A few years ago, a friend of ours was injured by one that wasn’t any bigger than a car tire — precautions needed to be taken—”

Dad put up his hand in a ‘halt’ gesture. “So, wait. You know that those things can hurt people, and yet you build a big one in your basement, and let your kids in here ?”

“They’re at a safe distance — they’re not even on the same side of the lab,” said Aunt Maddie, eyes narrow.

“Oh, thank goodness you let your toddlers play some paces away from a potential biohazard! ” Dad threw up his hands in fake relief. “I guess that makes it okay, then!”

Aunt Maddie looked like she was gearing up to shout. But she glanced at her kids in their little corner hutch, and seemed to think better of it. “Look, Bob, I — help me understand. Five minutes ago you were calling ghosts ‘fairy tales,’ and now you’re getting on about potentially endangering my children with something that, by your own logic, shouldn’t do anything. What’s your real problem?”

“My ‘real problem’ is that, ghosts or not — and there are certainly not — the fact that someone got hurt at all tells me that you’re tampering with something that you don’t understand—”

“Bob, that’s enough —”

Seed dispersion was one of the fundamental adaptations of the plant world. A seed that dropped straight down from its parent plant was a dead seed. It wouldn’t be able to access sufficient nutrition, water, or light so close.

Mom exiled him and Dad from the lab so she could have a good talk with Aunt Maddie. Uncle Jack awkwardly let them sit on the couch and watch NCIS with him.

“I just think that pseudoscience has no place in being the primary income for a family,” said Dad.

Uncle Jack nodded with a poorly disguised grimace.

“Anyway, have you heard that lavender has anti-autism properties?”

Uncle Jack suddenly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Luckily, Dad seemed to think that the distant laughter was coming from the TV.

Dandelions had a nasty taxonomy. They were wind-dispersed, able to fly up to sixty miles away from their parent plant, where they isolated and readily speciated. This was a large part of the reason why Flynn couldn’t appreciate them without every adult in an eighty-mile radius screaming it’s a weed!

By Sunday, Mom and Dad couldn’t be in the same room together without shouting.

By Wednesday, they wouldn’t speak to each other at all.

By Saturday, they started calling the divorce lawyer again.

That night before they went back to Arkansas, Flynn slept on his aunt and uncle’s couch. He could hear Mom and Dad talking in the guest room above. At indoor voice levels. He didn’t know whether that was good or bad.

The potted blood blossom sat on the end table atop Jack London.

He was woken up at two in the morning when something spritzed him in the face like he was a cat. Flynn squinted in the darkness for what it could be and was immediately spritzed again. He wiped the spray off his face and jolted at the sight of a red smear on his wrist.

A faint hiss was coming from the end table. Flynn watched as the blood blossom emitted a quiet red steam into the air.

He looked around the room nervously. Then he looked out the front window.

At the very end of the street, between the buildings, there was a faint green glow that looked very much like Uncle Jack’s pictures.

Well, of course dandelions were weeds. When something survived too well, humans inevitably got all up in their business, trying to trammel them in. It was a weed because it didn’t cooperate with that.

Flynn didn’t need to pack his bag; he had already loaded everything from the trip back in, but he added some more anyway. He got a knife, a frying pan, and a BIC lighter out of the kitchen. And of course, he took his book and the blood blossom.

Then he walked out the front door for the last time.

It was a muggy July night, and all the lights in the windows were out. The streetlamps pooled in the road. The green light creeped into the alleyway on tiptoe.

Flynn stood before a hole in the world and found himself alone. The hole didn’t appear to properly occupy the alley. It looked like a bad photoshop in person. Just standing a foot away from it, he could feel the static electricity. It felt like it was ruffling his hair in a gesture of approval.

There was a deep hum that might have been the portal, or the flies buzzing around it, or Flynn’s heart getting ready to tear itself from his chest in excitement or fear. He did not know which.

The blood blossom was beginning to overflow its mason jar with red condensation. Flynn poured it out onto the ground. It mixed with the dank puddles in the mundane depressions of the concrete that, absurdly, continued to exist in the presence of something so otherworldly.

Flynn reached through the portal. It felt like cold water — strange, but not icy enough to be unpleasant.

This was what he needed. Something he didn’t know, somewhere his parents couldn’t find him. He could find shelter with those familiar spirits for a little while, and his blood blossom would protect him as his parents looked for him, and then he would come back and they would be so happy and angry to see him that they wouldn’t talk about the divorce again for another year at least, and it would be nice, and it would just be so nice, it would just be so nice when he got back.

And then the light consumed his vision.

...

Twelve years later.

“Jazz? Did you just come through the portal?” Danny squinted at the readout on the specter speeder — the constant green light of the ghost zone made it hard to read at times.

“No?” she said over the speeder’s radio. “I’m still in the lab, why?”

“Because the radar’s picking up signs of life.”

#danny phantom #flynn fenton #dp #dp fanfiction #this flynn goes off the-stove-is-on-fire's version of his backstory btw #flynn walker

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poptod · 3 years

Text

Subterfuge (Baxter x Reader)

Description: You’re the new medical examiner. Like most medical examiners, you’re a little... different.

Notes: aghhhh im caught in so many lies with my family and friends that im gonna fucking break down but if i tell anyone the truth im gonna get my ass beat on several different levels WC: 1.7k

The latex gloves on your hands did little to stay the cold blood, staining up the skintight material that clung to your sweat. This wasn't the first time you had your hands wrist-deep in organs, but it was the first corpse who had a bullet in his eye, and the first time you were completely alone.

Your years as an assistant were finished, and now you were a full-on doctor––a medical examiner, to be specific. A coroner. The one who deals with the dead. Not a particularly charming profession, but far more interesting, and far more safe than most others.

There was one problem, though––the policemen. You were never a timid person, but some of them just got to you, itched beneath your skin and sped your heart. Why that was hadn't yet been identified, so instead you focused on something you understood; the human body. The stiffness of refrigerated muscle, the stench of uncleaned organs, a mask chafing against your cheeks. The heat of a bright light on your neck.

The man below you was a particularly unfortunate man. Died young, was never quite fully healthy, and had few friends and family. His method of death was what caught the eye of one of the detectives, though it seemed cut-and-dry to you. There were no struggle marks, puncture wounds, bruises, or even scars on his body. Only the bullet hole. He had to have done it himself. Still, it wasn't your job to question the detectives––only to bring them the information you gather.

"How's he lookin'?" Asked a man from behind you, the quiet hinges of the door swinging shut as he entered. You shot up, eyes instantly meeting his.

"Haven't gotten far. About through the small intestine," you said, gesturing to the different jars and plastic boxes categorized with the man's organs. The nearest to you was the lungs. You noted the scrunch in the man's nose with mild amusement.

"Gotten the bullet out yet?"

"Oh, yeah. Already sent it up for ballistics," you said with a curt, polite smile.

He remained silent after that, watching you work from the safe, mostly smell-free area of your desk. With his back leant on the table, he crossed his arms with intent eyes.

"You're the new medical examiner, aren't you?" He asked after a particularly wet squelching sound came from your working fingers.

"Yes sir," you said, nodding. "Started yesterday."

"Oh, this must be new for you then."

"I've done autopsies before, but this is the first time on my own, yes," you admitted with a tinge of embarrassment. It was the truth, that this was new, but he didn't have to mention it.

"Well then, welcome to the team," he chuckled. "My name's Baxter."

"(L/N). Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. I'd shake your hand, but," he trailed off as the both of you turned to your bloodied gloves.

"Don't worry," you said, a grin spreading across your face. "I'll give you a raincheck on that."

He hummed, uncrossing his arms and legs as he began to saunter over to you. For the most part, you could easily ignore his eye, stuck between your concentrated expression and steady hands. Having teams of professors and doctors looking over your shoulder for exams had prepared you well.

"Find anything curious?" He finally asked.

"Not really," you mumbled, gently cutting open the flesh of the stomach. "Not yet. There aren't any cuts or contusions of any notable kind. Only wound I could find was the bullet hole and an infected bruise on his toe. I'll be sending blood, stomach, and stool samples up to Peters soon, I'm sure you'll know more then."

As you took the samples out of the victim's stomach, Baxter circled the brightly lit table, stopping when he reached the feet. There he knelt, scanning the pale blue skin.

"How do you suppose he got this?"

"Haven't gotten there yet, but I'd assume he bashed it against some furniture," you said. He eyed you curiously but remained quiet for a moment.

"Looks like a puncture wound," he said slowly, contemplating his words carefully before he spoke.

"Give me a moment, sir," you said with a huff, sealing up the stomach tubes and setting them on the tray beside you.

Since you were the only doctor present, you had to hold the stomach walls open yourself, which kept you busy for a good two minutes before you could look at Baxter's little pointer. To your immense relief he waited patiently for you to finish sewing and setting away your tools, before shuffling to the side to make room for you at the end of the table.

As he noticed, there was a small, dark spot beneath his big toe's nail. Digging into your white coat pocket, you pulled out your magnifier glass and set it up close to the cold skin.

"Could be right," you said softly, focused more on your sight than your tongue. You raised a gloved hand, pulling at the wound, pushing on the bruise till the hole widened.

"Needle mark?"

"That's what I was thinking," you said, shoving your magnifier glass back in your pocket. "Good eye, Baxter. I'll tell Peters to check his blood for any trace drugs."

You circled back around to your spot on the table, sorting through the six tube samples before lifting the case into your arms. Noticing your small stumble over your feet, he rushed over to join you, taking the case from you.

"I can take this up for you," he offered, his wide, grey eyes set strictly upon you. The sudden closeness had your words stammering and stuttering.

"Um – y- yeah, thank you," you said with a smile, your chest tight as he left. Only when the door shut behind him did you breathe again, turning back to the patient beneath you.

Hopefully, when you got the chance to meet the rest of the officers, you wouldn't slip up like that––messing up in front of one person was enough, and Baxter already felt like a very strange person, so probably would mind your oddness the least. The others would be less forgiving, or at least that's what you assumed. Most of the police you'd met in your life had been incredibly straight-cut, diamonds-up-the-ass kind of people.

"What a strange lad," you commented to your patient. "I should bake him some cookies."

The rest of the autopsy took three hours, full of rotting stenches and labelled gizzards. Your thirty-minute break was reduced to ten as the victims of a bar shootout came in, the three bodies riddled with bullet holes, leaving the cause of death obvious to anyone who stopped by. You didn't see Baxter again that day––not until it was done, and you were wrapped back in your personal coat, heading towards the elevator.

He caught the door before it could close in front of you, and as you rushed in with full hands you hurriedly thanked him. A bell dinged and the door shut, leaving the two of you alone in the enclosed space, the buzzing florescent light buffering between you.

"Did you hear about the shootout?" You asked when it became clear to you that this was a slow elevator.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I got a call and stopped by, but... they were already gone, and the, um.. the others were dead."

"Well, if they weren't then, they are now," you said, once again ignoring his questioning eye. "I had to put their brains in some jars."

To your surprise, he chuckled, brushing the hair off his face and readjusting his perfect posture.

"You know, usually it takes some time before new people start making jokes about the dead," he said, grinning as he looked at you out of the side of his eye.

"I'm a fast learner and a natural comedian. Mother always was disappointed in my career choice... wanted me to be a court jester," you teased with your own giggle, heart beating rapidly at the prospect of someone pretty enjoying your company.

"You do well in both careers. Do – do you need some help with that?" He asked, noticing your struggle with the varied bags in your arms.

"I think I can do it," you said, huffing as you tried to hoist the plastic back onto you. Before you could help it two of them slipped, nearly falling but halted when Baxter caught them mid-air.

"What do you have in here?" He asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to glance inside.

"Clothes," you said after a mumble of a 'thank you'. "One of the women here had a lot of clothes to get rid of and, well, I need some. And I'm sure one of my roommates could use them, too."

"Oh. Do you have a car?"

"You could call it that."

"I'll help you carry these there, then," he said, taking another bag off your shoulder. The loss of stress on your muscles left you relieved, and you sighed happily.

"Thank you, sir."

You tried to contain your smile as you led him through the parking lot, slipping between the empty spaces to get to your tiny vehicle. Legally it wasn't even a car––actually, you'd built it from the basis of a golf cart, slowly adding and changing features until it drove and looked essentially like a car. Hard work, but you'd been doing it since you stole it in the 7th grade.

Rarely did you ever get along with people, and so Baxter's politeness had sparked a delight in you that brought a ceaseless smile. When you took the bags from him, you thanked him again, attempting to hold a conversation while shoving the bags into the back of your car. He chuckled at your strained words, but eventually helped you when he got over his amusement.

"It was nice to meet you today, and thank you, again," you said once the backdoor was slammed shut beneath yours and Baxter's combined strength.

"Pleasure to meet you, as well. Drive safe now," he said, shaking your hand with a grin.

"Oh I will," you assured him, laughing. You clambered into the driver's seat, shutting the door but leaning out the open window. "If I don't I'll have you on my ass."

"You know it!" He said as he walked away, his bright laugh echoing in the mostly-empty parking lot.

#detective baxter x reader #detective baxter #the little things #rami malek #rami malek character

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anthropwashere · 3 years

Text

All That Describes a Joyful Heart

At last I can finally share this! \o/

This Trisha/Hohenheim fic was written for @fmacookbookzine which you should absolutely go follow because they’ll be announcing leftover sales soon! It’s perhaps the best quality physical zine I’ve ever gotten my hands on AND it comes with oodles of lovely art, oodles of lovely recipes, and three other fics besides mine!

Me being me I have research hole notes to share but I’ll stick them all at the end of the fic. I hope you enjoy!

Night fell hours ago, and with it came a cruel December wind that rattles the windows mercilessly in their painted frames. The old tree out front complains loudly, creaking and groaning its protests as it rakes its naked branches across the roof. But Hohenheim isn't worried. That tree had already been a proud specimen the year he bought the land he eventually built this house on. Its roots grow deep. It'll take a far more furious storm to bring it down than the one that threatens them on this, the longest night of the year.

There's still a part of him that falters over how the years are measured here in the West. Many, many parts of him, to be more accurate; many thousands of his friends who grew accustomed to how a year is measured in far-off Xing, while so many more still cling to the lost ways of Xerxes. Before, long decades ago now, he had no home to call his own. He'd slunk away from the unwanted fame and fortune at the then-Emperor's heel in order to find some semblance of peace amidst the ever-shifting sand dunes, and when that had only brought him renewed grief he'd traveled farther west, and farther still, all the while chasing....

Chasing dreams, he supposes. Dreams of peace and quiet, where half a million souls don't natter at him endlessly. Dreams where he's still human, still susceptible to the ravages of time as any other man. Bittersweet what-ifs and if-onlys.

But those dreams fell to dust, and less than dust, and eventually he came to a soot-blackened city of industry where people limped in on crutches and, after a time, strode out again on gleaming, impossible prosthetics. He met Pinako there in Rush Valley, some thirty-odd years ago now. Her raucous laughter and bawdy humor burrowed past all the walls he'd built around himself, and in the blink of an eye she'd grown dangerously dear to him. It came to pass that whatever she asked of him, he would do without question. It was in this way that she coaxed him time and time again to Resembool. For a funeral, for a wedding, for a birth, and once more to stay.

Well. He'd had no interest in returning to Xing, where they insisted on building ever-grander statues of him whenever he demonstrated an ounce of common sense. So why not buy a bit of land in the hometown of his friend, this mad inventor who dragged him over for a good meal and better drinks whenever she thought he'd been left to mope on his own for too long? Why not build a house there? Why not fill it with books, and shelves to organize them on? And even a monster like him would be wise to take care of himself, so why not fill the cupboards and pantry too while he was at it?

He'd never told Pinako the truth of himself. What he is, where he's really from. Any of it. It's not that he's ever thought such truths to be too heavy a burden for her; rather that he's always considered her a safe harbor away from such burdens. The Homunculus is out there, somewhere, and he's certain it has terrible plans for Amestris, but here in Resembool he can laugh loudly at the dark and feel brave for a few moments of his long, long life.

"Cenz for your thoughts?"

Hohenheim blinks, and finds himself stood stupidly in the middle of his kitchen. His friends titter and tease, directing his attention to the dining table where there sits nothing short of a miracle; a young woman of incomparable kindness, cleverness, and beauty. Stubbornness too, for all that she hides it behind a soft voice and bright eyes. She's refused time and again all his efforts to turn her away, to convince her to love anyone else but him. She's too stubborn by half, twice as determined as that in her efforts to know and understand him for all his faults, and forgive him for them too.

There's no other woman in the world like Trisha Elric. Of that, he's certain.

He meets her wry smile head on, feeling his heart melt anew. "Trisha," he says, enchanted by her very name. "I'm sorry—"

"How may times do I have to tell you to stop that?" She pats the table, drawing him over. "What are they saying?"

He's drawn to her helplessly, like iron filings to a magnet. Many of his friends suggest how he could tell her again all the ways he loves her; chastely, reverently, lustfully, and everything in-between. Many others scoff at him for being so besotted over a country girl without learning, reputation, or skill. He ignores all of them in favor of the few that tell him to mind the stockpot simmering gently on the stove. He prefers practicality to insults. It hasn't been long since he last stirred the pot, however; he can join Trisha at the table, for a little while.

He returns to the chair he'd been sitting in before he'd gone to check the stove and ended up lost in his thoughts. He reaches out to take her hand in his, and is charmed momentarily speechless when she reaches for him just as readily. The tangle of their fingers is a miracle he would never have dreamed of praying for.

"They're happy I'm doing this," he says, then hastily corrects himself. "That we are doing this."

Her smile gains a soft delight to its edges, her green eyes crinkling. "Me too. You were telling me about how tonight was practiced in Xerxes. Shab-e Chelleh?"

He has to pause in the wake of so many of his friends cheering to hear his native tongue spoken aloud by another. "شب چله," he corrects.

She pulls her hand from his long enough to pluck another almond from the bowl of mixed nuts on the table, unwilling to move her other hand from the full swell of her belly. "Well? Go on."

Hohenheim is certain he would have died of shock—if he were still capable of dying—the day she told him they were going to have a baby. A part of him—one all his own, and one that his friends all laugh readily at—can't help but think this is all a wonderful dream he's sure to wake from at any moment.

His friends clamor at him eagerly, shouting to be heard over each other, over suggestions of what he ought to say. Traditions kept, stories told, favorite dishes, and on, and on. He hums and chooses his own words. "We feared the darkness of winter, but we wanted to be stronger than it. So we came together on the last day of every autumn, most often in the homes of our elders. We stayed awake through the night, chasing away the dark and all its evils with fire and music, stories and laughter. We would eat the last of the summer fruits, though we prized watermelon and pomegranate most for the benefits we ascribed them. We knew the winter would be a little easier for our efforts."

"Watermelon? Pomegranate?"

It's still strange for him, to have someone wanting to learn his native tongue. But Trisha is an eager student, demanding translations at every turn. "Ah—هندوانه و انار."

She mouths the words carefully, testing their weight on her tongue with a sweet furrow to her brow. "Hendevâne? Anâr?"

"Yes. Well done."

"That's beautiful," she says. Sarcasm is a slippery thing, even harder to catch hold of in Amestrian. The loveliest thing about her is that he can trust her to mean exactly what she says. "And you?"

"Me?"

"How did you celebrate?"

He blinks. "Oh. Well. The royal family always held a grand feat, with attendees from as far east as—"

"Not the royal family," she interrupts. "Or the courtiers, or the foreign visitors. Not any of them. What did you do, Van?"

Not for the first time, he marvels to hear her call him that. Van, and only Van. Not even his friends address him so. It's still part of the name the Homunculus gave him, yes, but when she says it—with mischief in her eyes and an infectious smile on her lips—he likes it again. She makes his name sound like the gift it had been, so long ago.

"Ah," he says, stalling.

Memories are... difficult, sometimes, for him. The sheer number of years between Xerxes and here are daunting enough, but add to that all the stories his friends have shared with him of their own lives and he grows... confused. Easily so. It takes him a few moments to drum up a dusty etching of his youth to share with her.

"When I was a slave," he begins slowly, swallowing the natural flinch twined to those words. "Those of us who weren't needed would gather in the kitchens for our own celebration. I remember offering to help the cooks prepare ingredients so I could steal samples from the dishes on their way out to the feast."

"Naughty," she teases.

"Only if I'd been caught," he counters. He's had just enough wine—"You're drinking for two, after all," Trisha had joked earlier—to be brave enough to catch her hand as she reaches for another almond. He presses a triumphant kiss to the soft skin of her pale wrist. "And I was very quick."

Her laughter is a bright thing, warming him straight through.

He continues after that, telling her stories of the cusp of winter in long-ago Xerxes. He tells her all the patently untrue deeds he'd boasted of, his plans for mischief, his ploys to avoid work, his hopes a fine dish would turn out too ruined for the King's table so he could feast like a king instead. He tells her of the bards who would deign to sup with slaves, roughly translating their songs with help from his friends. He tells her some of the old superstitions; in believing that the natural coolness of a watermelon would preserve him from heatstroke all through the following summer, in going out to the stables to whisper a secret into a donkey's ear.

There are pauses in the telling, of course, to attend to the stove. His friends insist he do this right, or as right as he can in so small a village as Resembool. Half the needed ingredients are beyond his reach, so he had to get creative. Trisha's begun asking he cook the meals he'd enjoyed before coming to Amestris, and to teach her how to cook them in turn. There's a small but growing collection of recipe cards written in her neat hand, transliterated from Xerxesian, Xingese, and a half-dozen other languages as best as they can guess.

The centerpiece of tonight's meal is a hearty stew made with ground walnuts and pomegranate paste, accompanied by scorched rice flavored with sour cherries. Traditionally it was most commonly made with duck, but he can recall times when chicken or lamb were substituted well. But tonight is about tradition. Tradition, and memory. Only the good memories, if he has any say in it. Trisha only deserves to hear the good, now that she knows the very worst of him.

“How do you pronounce it again?” She asks. “Fesenjān?”

“فسنجون,” he corrects, and more slowly, “Fesenjoon. And the rice, prepared this way, is called ته دیگ.”

“Tahdig,” she echoes. “You’ve made that before, haven’t you? To go with the kabab koobideh you made for the fall sheep festival?”

He hums, thinking back. “Ah, so I did.”

“Good. I’m excited to have it again.” She eats another almond, covering her mouth as she chews. “If there’s any left we’ll have to bring it over to the Rockbells tomorrow. I think Yuriy just about cried, he liked it so much.”

“I’m not sure those were happy tears.”

“Oh, hush. No self-deprecating jokes in the house, remember?”

One of her many rules, enforced through rolled eyes and pointedly aggressive hugs. A lifeline cast across the chasm between then and now. Sometimes he forgets himself, but she is always there to coax him home again.

“Go on, then. I want to hear more.”

He stays by the stove, leaning against the counter with one eye on the simmering pot, as he continues his history. The scant collection of years after the Homunculus gave him the means and the tools to earn his freedom, when he was no longer a slave of the palace but an alchemist of the court. How each dish he had once seen crafted firsthand tasted all the richer for having earned his place at the table. How he'd marveled, quietly astonished, over how the nobles he had once envied could act as much the fool as any slave when they'd had too much to drink. How so much changed, yet how so much more remained the same.

He tells her of his very first شب چله as a free man, rubbing elbows with a merchant from Xing and an alchemist from Samskara. They'd both spoken Xerxesian atrociously, and only considered him their equal because he didn't share his past with them. One had spat at the eunuch boys serving at the King's table, while the other had leered hungrily at the slave girls as they'd danced. He remembers biting his tongue, afraid to cause upset, afraid his former master would change his mind if he caused a scene.

He sums up nearly 20 years in the time it takes to finish cooking, doling out two generous helpings of فسنجون و ته دیگ just as the clock on the mantel strikes eleven. 20 years. The same age Trisha is now. A mere slip of a woman with her whole life ahead of her. 20 years had been almost half his human lifetime, but it feels hardly more than a footnote compared to the centuries he's lived since. They don't have a thing in common, not really, but she's chosen him anyway.

As he rejoins her at the table, bowls in hand, he finds himself struck speechless for a second time tonight by the mere sight of her. He loves her. He loves her so much. He has cared for so many people in his life, but she is the first he has loved completely.

He has stood over so many graves. He doesn't want to outlive her too.

Her eyes light up with the first bite. It's the greatest compliment, the greatest achievement, to do something that makes her happy.

“Oh!” She exclaims, free hand jumping to her belly with a laugh. “I think he likes it too.”

He eyes the swell of her as if he might see the baby kicking from here. A father, he thinks wildly. He's going to be a father. His friends will never stop laughing at his first-time parenting jitters. Traitors, the lot of them.

“You’re sure it’s going to be a boy?” He asks, trying not to show his nervousness.

“I’m not certain,” she admits. “But it feels right. Does that make sense?”

He smiles helplessly. “Not at all. But I believe you.”

She'd said the same thing after he'd told her the truth of him. It feels right to say it to her in turn now.

"Are you sure you don't want to help pick a name?" She asks.

He shakes his head, adamant. “You’re the one doing all the work. It’s only right you get to choose.”

She hums, thoughtful.

Moments pass in that particular quality of silence found only in the wake of a good meal. He tries not to preen. It helps that a number of his friends are critiquing his cooking even as he tries to enjoy it. He should have added onions. He should have tried harder to find saffron. The rice isn't as caramelized as it could be. The duck is too tough. He didn't grind the walnuts fine enough. And on, and on.

Trisha's hand touches his wrist. He blinks at her, enamored and baffled equally. She smiles at him, enamored and exasperated equally.

“I asked what you were thinking,” she says.

It's not even midnight yet. Dawn is a long way off. For all that he's learned so much since he was a nameless slave, for all the centuries he's endured, there's still a part of him that doubts the sun will rise tomorrow. There's still a part of him, however small and smothered by his friends, that is the angry, empty-headed fool who willingly held out his arm when his master demanded he give up his blood. There is still a part of him that wishes desperately he recoiled from the knife, and in doing so saved his people. But there's no sense in wishing for what he cannot change.

“I’m thinking that I’m glad I’m here,” is what he tells her. “And that I love you.”

Outside the wind rages, surely full of devils with cruel fangs and crueler deeds in mind, but here in his home Hohenheim knows he's safe. Better still, the most wonderful woman in the world has chosen to take refuge with him here. More than that. She's chosen to forge a life with him here, to make and raise a family with him here. Out there, somewhere, the Homunculus is surely scheming. Inside him, over half a million souls roil restless, ceaselessly, and perhaps—God help him—even eternally.

But tonight? On this, the longest night of the year? Hohenheim chases jewel-bright pomegranate seeds with his spoon, warmed by just a hair too much wine, hand-in-hand with the love of his long, long life. Tonight, at least, Hohenheim finds himself content.

And that’s the fic! I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you also enjoy me vomiting some THOUGHTS at you too.

I am in a constant state of being emotionally overwrought about my favorite square anime dad, so I was delighted to have a chance to write something truly syrupy sweet about him and Trisha and have the ready-made excuse to get lost down a research hole. Xerxes is secretly my FAVORITE research hole to get lost down because I actually studied Persian Farsi for a year once upon a forever ago. While I never got any kind of fluent in it, that time of fervent study certainly got me hooked on learning about Iran's rich and fascinating history. This fic is centered around a loose approximation of Yaldā Night, Iran's winter solstice festival, and Hohenheim sharing some of the traditions Xerxes once held with Trisha. I was intentionally vague and/or handwave-y in some parts, but if anything seems too egregiously inaccurate please let me know!

I called it Chelleh within the fic as, per my understanding at least, Yaldā was borrowed from Syriac-speaking Christians, and since Christianity doesn't exist in mangahood it seemed the "more accurate" thing to do.

A common tradition at Yaldā and Nowruz (the Persian New Year) is to read excerpts from the Divān of Hafez, perhaps the most famous of Iran's poets. The title of this fic comes from (per my copy of Elizabeth T. Gray Jr.'s collected translations, Wine & Prayer) ghazal 35. I'd share the full thing with y'all, but she only has the original Persian on her website and my copy of her book is in storage atm. :(

Fesenjoon/fesenjān, the dish they're making, is incredible and I highly recommend it. Tahdig, or scorched rice, is also fantastic.

Thank you again for reading! <3

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #my writing

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

off the grid | two

summary: it was as simple as swapping places with a stranger from across the world to get away from everything back home. that is - until you meet Jimin. things become more complicated as he unfolds a new chapter in your life that you were initially trying to avoid.

pairing: reader x pjm

genre: post-college au, christmas/holiday au | angst, fluff, smut (to come)

words: 3191

chapter warnings: cussing / mature language, definitely inaccurate depiction of transportation, events and whereabouts in South Korea since i only did my research thru the internet, jimin is cute as fuck for being such an angel

> series masterlist <

You tried sleeping in after Namjoon and Yoongi's call, but you couldn't fall back asleep no matter how exhausted your body still felt. Instead, you sat up in bed, scrolling through the pictures you took from your stroll in the nearby streets yesterday. You didn't get too far, yet you came back with so many small goodies already. You kept stopping by every shop on the street, and you ate such delicious food that you were contemplating on getting more today. But, you were also determined to travel a little bit further and start some real adventures for yourself.

You got yourself washed up and ready for the day. You did your usual of prepping a very light breakfast for yourself, just to give you enough fuel to kick off the morning. While doing so, surprisingly unsurprised, you were certain you heard Jimin's voice in the hallway. You stared at the door as you stood and ate some cereal on the kitchen island, waiting for his knock to come.

"Knock, knock." He says, following with two soft knocks. You walked over, bowl in hand, as you opened the door to see Jimin standing there with a huge smile on his face and another tupperware in hand. "I come bearing gifts?" He steps in as you shut the door behind him.

"Aw, thanks! More food?"

"Yup."

"Assuming your parents still don't know Yana isn't here?" You chuckled.

"Not at all." He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously. "But I'll deal with it later."

"Mm, you should probably deal with it before Christmas rolls around, sir."

"Yesma'am." He salutes you playfully. "Did you eat the stuff that I brought yesterday?"

"Sure did, for a night time snack." He chuckled as he placed the new tupperware in the fridge.

"Body still adjusting?"

"Pretty much." You say as you begin to wash your bowl.

"What's your plan today, Miss Y/N?" You softly chuckle as you wipe your hands down.

"Just roam around."

"Let me know if you need anything, or if you need anyone to show you around." He held out his hand, signaling for your phone so he can put his number in.

"I may just take you up on that offer."

"Good." He smiled. "Well, I'll catch you later? I'll leave you to your peace." You nod as you follow him to the door.

"Thanks again for the food."

"No problem. Eat up." He taps the door frame before shutting the door close. You look down at your phone and see Jimin's contact info still on the screen. Or should we say, "PRINCE CHARMING 🥵😍" since that's what he decided to name himself?? Let's not forget to peep the little tidbit he put in the notes: "My name is Jimin but you can call me tonight ;)" Who even uses the 'Notes' section under the contact's info?

His use of emojis and cheesy lines made you laugh to yourself, but you left it anyways. You were highly thinking about taking up his offer on having someone show you around, but you kept reminding yourself that the whole reason you came here was to do this solo. But, god, there's only so many things you can achieve as a solo newbie in a place like South Korea. Would it truly hurt to get some help or advice from someone?

On your way to the train station, you came across a lively farmer's market. The cold was biting at every inch of your body no matter how bundled you were, cheeks rosy and glowing. Being that the farmer's market was booming at this time, you figured checking out the station map could wait. Long aisles of stands with colorful fresh fruit and vegetables had you stopping almost every second to try samples. Fruit and veggies certainly tasted fresh, and it was a nice feeling on your tongue. None of that pesticide, wax-covered bullshit back home. There was music playing in the background, one being a street artist playing his violin in this cold. You threw some change into his case and continued down the aisle, where more vendors were selling their own art and home-made goods.

You spent quite some time here, as it seemed like the booths would never end. It eventually did, and it brought you right to the train station that would bring you to Myeongdong. Luckily, it was a simple, straightforward trip and you'd be on your way to more exploring. You planned to get some lunch first though because you can most definitely hear the street food calling your name.

As you continued down the street with your food in hand, you heard someone call you by name from behind.

"Y/N?" You turned your attention towards the street behind you to find Jimin pushing his way through the crowd with a huge smile on his face.

"Are you following me, Park Jimin?" You chuckled. He was wearing the same outfit you saw him in this morning, which was a thick sweater and leather jacket, dark grey jeans and boots. He had a hat on and some oversized glasses, which you thought fit his frame perfectly well.

"Definitely. Just had to make sure you knew what you were doing out here." He laughed. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah, it's great. Do you come here often?"

"To be honest, not really. But the guys and I had nothing else to do today, plus-"He holds up a bag. "Ma put in a request for some stuff she was looking for since I was going to be here."

"That's sweet of you." You smiled toothlessly, watching as he beamed from ear to ear. Definitely a mama's boy, and a handsome one at that.

"Yeah, I do what I can." He shoved the bag down back to his side and tugged on his own shoulder bag. "Where are you headed after this?"

"Honestly? Wherever the wind brings me." You shrugged.

"You should tag along with me and my friends. We're uh, not doing anything fancy besides going to the comic cafe." He snorted nervously, hoping you wouldn't be one to label him as a dweeb this early on. "It's near the Dongdaemun Night Market. I think you'll enjoy grabbing some dinner there."

"Yeah, I'll come with. That sounds fun." You began to walk alongside of him as he walked back towards the opposite end of the street.

"Sorry, were you done looking here? I could accompany you while you keep looking." He paused to look down at you.

"No." You instantly shook your head. "Uh, I think I'm all good." You took one last look behind you, a little unsure since there was a store you still wanted to check out before leaving. You didn't wanna burden Jimin and his friends though, this wasn't their plan.

"You sure?" He smirked.

"Maybe not?"

"Let's go, I can tell you still wanna look around."

"Jimin, I can go alone-"

"It's not an issue, Y/N. Besides, Jungkook and Taehyung are still wandering around." He nodded towards the one shop you were eyeing. "Come on." You smiled toothlessly and followed him into the store.

"By the way, nice contact name." You showed him his contact info on your phone, making him laugh.

"Yeah, it's gold isn't it? Trying to stand out. I'm surprised you kept it."

"Your work of art. I don't meddle."

"Ah, touché. I like a girl who can appreciate good art." He winked, causing your cheeks to heat up as you blushed and looked down at the ground below you. He stepped into the clothing store and slowed his pace to let you lead the way. The one thing you were eyeing were the puffy jackets and coats because who can have too many outerwear? Jimin bit onto his bottom lip as he watched your eyes light up at the coats in front of you, touching everything you came across.

"These are so cute. I want it all." Jimin chuckled.

"Looks like you'll be needing another luggage to go home with you." You hung onto a beige colored puffy jacket, then reached out for a plaid coat.

"There's so many colors, I can't decide." He pointed to the plaid coat next to the one you had reached out for.

"That color would look nice on you." You smiled at him and nodded.

"Thanks. That makes it easier."

"You do have enough warm jackets for your stay right? There's a possibility it'll snow soon."

"Yeah, I think I'll be alright?" He nodded.

"I don't know Y/N, that doesn't sound convincing." He did a quick head tilt. "Make sure you get something warm then, please. The cold bites down here. I wouldn't want you to be miserable for the rest of your stay." He leaned against the rack. "Like that." He pointed at a thick parka. "Might be good to have that in your stack."

"Ou." Your mouth formed an 'o' shape as you grabbed the olive parka and swung it over your arm.

"Well, that was easy." He laughed.

"I trust your word." You began to quickly scan the rest of the floor, making sure you wouldn't miss anything. But also, you didn't wanna take too much time off of Jimin's hands.

"Ayo!" You hear someone call from behind you. You continue to walk the floor, hearing Jimin's laugh from behind, followed by a couple of unfamiliar voices. "Stop being a creep."

"I'm not being a creep, you idiot." Jimin laughed and shrugged off his friend. "I'm helping Y/N out."

"She's here?" You turn to look at the three boys standing behind you.

"Y/N, this is Jungkook and Taehyung." You smiled softly and shook their hands. "I really apologize about them in advance."

"Hey, nice to finally meet you!" Jungkook smiled as he pushed Jimin aside. He was also very attractive, standing just an eensy weensy bit taller than Jimin. He had tattoos on his hand and his wavy, black hair was parted, falling down on either sides of his face and right at the eyes. He had big, doe eyes and a good build. Even though he was wearing baggy layers, you could tell his ass lived at the gym with the way his shoulders were built and how his collarbone was sharply poking out from his shirt.

"Sounds like you've heard of me." You chuckled.

"Jimin won't stop bringing up your name."

"Don't listen to him. He's making that up." Jimin's cheeks turned slightly rosy.

"That's not nice to lie, Jimin-ssi." Jungkook pinched his side, making him laugh and playfully hit him back. You scrunched your nose at how cute the interaction was, not feeling out of place at all between the two.

"Hey Y/N, Taehyung." Taehyung shows off a boxy smile as he gently shakes your hand. He looked like an artist, pulling a Jack from Titanic who was ready to draw one of his french girls kind of vibe - clad in brown pants, a black turtleneck, a long coat and low cut sneakers.

"She's gonna come along with us."

"Cool! Preparing yourself for the weather?" Jungkook asked as he quickly checked out the men's shirts across from you, while Jimin and Taehyung continued to talk and laugh on the side.

"I was warned by Jimin." You chuckled.

"He's right, it can be freezing here. Do you need any help carrying your stuff?"

"I'm good! Thanks. I think I'm about done anyways." Your mouth curved into a small smile before you walked off to the registers, grabbing a scarf on the way over just because. You definitely did not anticipate to spend like this already, but hey, self-care am I right?

"Let me hold that for you." Jimin takes the paper bag from you.

"You don't-"

"Is it like this in California or something?" He laughed.

"What?"

"Feeling shy when someone offers to hold your bags?"

"It's just not a consistent thing, I guess? At least not that I've experienced much. It could be different for others." You spare him the details. Now that you think of it, Romeo has never offered to carry your bags like that. Ever. He obviously lacked a lot of common courtesy.

"Interesting." Is all he says as he shrugs and continues on. You clutched onto your bag strap as you followed the three, suddenly questioning how you got from going around solo to now tagging along with your home swapee's brother and his friends. Jimin slightly slowed his pace to catch up to you, pulling you out of your thoughts when he shared a small laugh. "You okay? Suddenly having regrets?"

"No, I'm good." You chuckled as you tugged into the strap harder.

"Do you ready any comics?"

"I used to when I was younger. Now I just don't have time to even find a good read."

"That busy, huh?"

"I guess so. Or I guess, sorry, I just don't find the time so it's partially my fault."

"No need to apologize. You should make more time for yourself though."

"Yeah, I know." You looked up at him and smiled toothlessly. He returns the favor before opening the back passenger car door for you, allowing you to situate yourself first. As you fasten your seatbelt, Jungkook adjusts his rearview mirror before starting the car and switching its gears.

"So, what's California like?" Taehyung asked as he whipped his head around from the passenger's seat.

"You never said exactly where you were from." Jimin chimed in as he cocks his head to the side to look at you.

"Los Angeles." The boys collectived oo'd and aw'd together.

"I've been there before!" Jungkook rose one hand off of the wheel. "I did a summer dance camp there and spent time with my family going around. Like Universal Studios, that was fun." He excitedly bounced in the driver's seat.

"Did you like it?" He nodded happily.

"Very much so. I'd love to go back. You should take me with you when you go back." Jimin threw a piece of crumpled paper at the back of his head.

"I'll keep that in mind." You laughed.

"The views are amazing and-" Jungkook continued to reminisce on his memories, but was abruptly cut off by Taehyung.

"I wanna hear what it's like from Y/N, not you." Jungkook popped Taehyung on the side of neck.

"It's busy." You chuckled. "It's busy and usually always hot. Lots of people, lots of cars, lots of things to do. People are always on the move."

"Does it feel any different being here?"

"Yeah, it does. I can't really explain it." Although Seoul was just as lively and the hustle and bustle was apparent, Los Angeles just felt like.. life was moving way too fast. Like no one really had time to appreciate life as much as they do here. There's always things that need to get done, and you're more worried about other people than yourself. No one took the time to just slow down.

"I imagine so. I've seen a lot of things about LA. Lots of Hollywood stars and famous people." Taehyung continued to look at you, resting his head against the head rest.

"Yeah, that's definitely the it thing there."

"Maybe we can all go back with Y/N."

"I don't have a big place but I'm sure we can make it work." The rest of the ride included the boys loudly singing along to the songs that came up. If you weren't mistaken, you could have sworn you heard Jimin's angelic singing voice pop out every now and then. He tried to keep it lowkey. Keyword: tried.

At the comic cafe, Taehyung and Jungkook went their separate ways to find what they were looking for while you stayed near the entrance, looking at the cute stationary items. Jimin had left you to browse but came back to your side as soon as he found what he needed, worried you'd feel lost and out of place. You reassured him and told him he didn't need to rush, but as you were picking up quite quickly, it was just in Jimin's nature to be that caring.

Time had gone by so fast, you didn't even realize how hungry you were. Dongdaemun Night Market was crowded as hell; so crowded that you had to try your best to squeeze through without being rude.

"Y/N, hold onto me." Jimin looked back, holding out his arm for you to hook onto. Jungkook led the way, with Taehyung holding onto his shoulders as they navigated through the crowd. Jungkook looked back at you both, pointing towards one of the food vendors. "Are you okay with eating some tonkatsu?"

"I'm down for whatever." You said, feeling a little flustered from the crowd. Jimin signaled a thumbs up to Jungkook before turning towards the seating area. He was able to snag a table so that you both could sit and wait, instead of being in the crowd.

"Sorry, I forgot to mention that it gets really busy here."

"It's alright, thanks for guiding me through the crowd."

"You feeling tired or anything?"

"A bit." You yawned into your elbow.

"We'll get you home after so you can rest up." Sooner or later, Jungkook and Taehyung come back with two trays, both loaded with tonkatsu rice bowls and sauce.

"Here you go." Jungkook smiled as he placed your bowl down in front of you.

"Oh, thank you! How much do I owe you?"

"Don't sweat it. My treat." He shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, Y/N. Please eat." He chuckled. The rest of dinner was pretty quiet, as everyone was hungrier than expected. They would break the silence every now and then, talking about the rest of their friends and what they had been up to.

"What are your friends like, Y/N?"

"Well, to be honest, I don't have too many." You chuckled. "Not many I can actually call friends, at least."

"That's valid. That's like us, too." Jungkook responded.

"I met both of my bestfriends in high school. I'd meet people through them, but that's about it. They're really cool though, I think you all would get along with them quite well."

"What are their names?"

"Yoongi and Namjoon. They're all I really know. We've done almost everything together and we've always stuck by each other. They've always had my back and protected me."

"That's good. It's nice to have people like that in your life." Jimin says.

"What about you guys?" Taehyung adjusts the heat in the car before whipping his head around to face you.

"You should hang out with us more so you can meet Hoseok and Seokjin-hyung." Taehyung smiled. "They're super social and they always have good energy. They're fun to be around."

"Sure." You chuckled. By the time you were getting really comfortable with the warmth in the car, you had arrived back home. Jungkook and Taehyung greeted you goodnight before Jimin had shut the door and walked you upstairs.

"I know we didn't do much, but I still hope you enjoyed yourself."

"I did, thank you. Seriously."

"Did you wanna, maybe, hang out again?" He shyly asked as he scratched the nape of his neck. He was cute nervous, and there was no way you could say no to him. Besides, you were sure Jimin could help you explore more. "I just have to help my mom and dad out at their cafe tomorrow morning, but I should be good by lunch time."

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"I promise I won't disappoint." He laughed. "Goodnight, Y/N. See you tomorrow?" You nodded as you walked in. He gave off one last big smile before descending down the steps.

And you weren't gonna lie to yourself. He was so damn attractive. Everything about him so far was just different. You couldn't help but feel a little bit excited to hang out and spend more time with him.

#bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #jimin #park jimin #pjm series #pjm x reader #off the grid #otg #writing #jimin x reader

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thestraggletag · 3 years

Text

Three Appointments and a Wedding

AN: Hi, @magicalgiven it is I, your Secret Santa! If I’m not mistaken we are both Argentinians in which case commiserate with me over the fucking hot weather we’ve been having. Because it fucking sucks. It was a pleasure to be your Santa, and I’m sorry this fic didn’t get smutty. I tried to add as much spice at the end as I could. It was challenging but fun because the accidental engagement prompt has been done a lot in the fandom so it was nice to try and put my spin on things. I hope you like it!

Prompt: Accidental engagement and consequences.

Summary: Mr Gold would do anything to help his only son plan his wedding, even if it is getting mistaked for the groom over and over as his crush gets mistaken for the bride. Over and over.

Rating: PG-13

He reminded himself that Bae had been clear about his distaste for a big wedding, and Emma as well. As far as they both were concerned they were better off with a simple civil ceremony and a honeymoon in Florida. But Emma’s parents insisted that their only child, their little princess, marry in style, so something grander was decided upon. He had to admit he hadn’t put up much of a fight. He did not have a lot in common with the Nolans- no matter how much David insisted on treating him like best mates whenever they met- but he did agree with them on the wedding. Bae was his only son and he wished to make a fuss about his wedding as well.

So he couldn’t really say no when Bae called to ask him to please take his place at a catering appointment in Portland. He had been summoned to a surprised meeting with a client that was a rather big to-do at his job. He did something related to web design that he couldn’t for the life of him understand, but it allowed him to work from home most of the time and stay in Storybrooke, so he was glad to be of assistance if he needed it.

He arrived at the catering business with a bit of time to spare, introducing himself and letting the person checking the appointment know he was waiting for someone. Not Miss Swan, because apparently she also had urgent business that could not be delayed- she did work in law enforcement, so there was a small chance she wasn’t lying to get out of “boring wedding stuff” as she kept calling it right in front of her mother and likely to annoy her. He had been told she would send Miss Lucas as a replacement, since she knew her way around a menu. He did not look forward to it, though perhaps he could amuse himself with trying to figure out how to raise the subject of the diner’s rent being due next week over talk of canapes.

“Mr Gold, you got here before me!”

He turned around, a part of him recognising instantly that charming Australian lilt. He looked slightly down to find Miss Belle French, the town’s librarian as of three years. She was dressed, as always, rather charmingly, and looked less out of place in the city than in their small town.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long. The original plan was for Ruby to fill in for Emma, but Granny’s arthritis started acting up so she had to stay and help at the diner. Oh, please don’t tell Granny I told you that or she’ll never forgive me.”

He recalled she was an old friend of Miss Swan’s, from before she came back to Storybrooke, back when she was living in New York as a bit of a rebellion against her parents, doing bounty hunting work of all things. They had been roommates while Miss French went to NYU for her master’s in Library Science and worked at an antique bookstore. He knew only because he knew the bookstore and thought it smart to hold onto that piece of information. Book restoration and re-binding wasn’t his specialty, so it was nice to know of someone he could consult with if the need ever arose.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Miss French. I will even abstain of using the information against Granny the next time she tries to overcharge me for coffee. I hope you understand what a sacrifice that is.”

She laughed and he tried to pretend he didn’t feel overly smug about it, turning instead to open the door for her.

“Oh, Mr Gold, I see your fianceé is here! Lovely to meet the future Mrs Gold.”

He fumbled, his brain too caught up in what had just been said to register the small step on his way. He righted himself just as Miss French stammered a surprised denial.

“Oh, right, I apologise for assuming you would change your name after marriage, Miss Swan. Please, follow me.”

The man, a strongly-accented Frenchman, if his ears did not deceive him, swept past them and deeper into the shop, forcing them both to follow. The back was a rather nice dining area, small but with lots of windows to let in natural light. It was right next to the kitchen, but it still felt private and quiet. They were ushered into a table already prepared for them and served a sample of entrées along with a card detailing the ingredients of each one.

“Well, I suppose it’s an obvious mistake to make, and it would be unkind to correct him, he’d be mortified. I hope you don’t mind playing the would-be groom for a day, Mr Gold. At least we get some nice food out of it.”

“It’ll make a nice change from Granny’s overpriced lasagna.”

She slapped him gently on the arm, trying to conceal her smile, and he was surprised at how nice the gesture felt. Not many people touched him, and less with that sort of uncomplicated ease. He was glad that Miss French felt comfortable around him.

“So, what type of food does Miss Swan enjoy?”

“You should really begin calling her Emma, you know. And me Belle, none of that Miss French nonsense. This is not some nineteenth century pretend engagement, you know. I hope we can consider ourselves a modern pretend couple.” Miss French- Belle- smiled at him over the rim of her water glass before taking a sip. “As for Emma, she likes bar food. If it was up to her we’d serve peanuts and fries for entrées and burgers as the main course. I understand her parents talked her out of it, so perhaps nothing very fancy, but tasteful at the same time.”

He had given up on the day that morning, thinking it would be spent trying to make awkward conversation with a confrontational Miss Lucas, glaring daggers at him from across a rather small table because he dared charge rent for the property her grandmother rented from him. Instead he found himself discussing food and wine with someone he was infinitely more fond of and could not even muster enough grumpiness later in the evening to snark at Bae when he called later at night to thank him for subbing for him.

“It’ll be the last time, pops, I swear.”

The week after the catering appointment Bae called him in a panic to beg him to go for him to the florist appointment, also in Portland. He swallowed a few choice words learned in his youth in Glasgow, closed his shop and drove to the address Bae texted him. He was somewhat less surprised than before to find Miss French there, sitting on a bench outside the shop and reading a book. Something niggled at the back of his head but when he greeted her and they got to explain their presence he realised it made a bit more sense. Miss Swan’s job was a bit emergency-heavy and Miss French was the daughter of a florist, so it made sense to send her as a replacement.

She knew her stuff, as he could tell almost as soon as they set foot into the shop, to the delight of the old, red-haired florist that handled their appointment. The librarian engaged her in a rather interesting discussion on the meaning of flowers and the importance of harmonious scents, something he had never considered before. They spent a rather lovely hour touring the greenhouse and browsing through the catalogues, with Miss French- “Honestly, Arran, it’s Belle, you agreed!”- making a game out of it, picking something and having him guess whether it was a choice for Miss Swan’s wedding or a reflection of personal taste. He learned from it that Belle liked blue as much as her outfits had already implied and that she loved hydrangeas, thought them elegant but soft.

“Too soft for Emma. She likes bold colours and is not fond of traditional flowers, so I was thinking perhaps something with bougainvilleas? They have such lovely deep pink colour, almost red. What do you think?”

It was a bit intoxicating, the smell of the flowers, the heat of the shop and Belle French talking about flowers with a passion that stirred something in him that had nothing to do with centerpieces or boutonnieres. It wasn’t until they were out of it, inhaling the crisp evening Portland air, that he realised the florist had mistaken them for the engaged couple as well, and neither of them had made any effort to correct her. Well, that would’ve been rude, he reasoned. No need to put the old woman in the spot.

The morning of the cake-tasting appointment he had woken up with the knowledge that he was likely to get a “surprise” call from Bae begging him to “fill in” for him at the cake shop, and he could not even bring himself to feel angry about it. The wedding was, after all, a rather rushed affair, seeing as to how it was not what either the bride or groom had planned for, so allowances had to be made for the couple. That or they both were trying to punish their parents for pushing on them a grander event than the one they had wanted in the first place.

On his way out of town he passed by the library, insisting he would drive Miss French who was, surprisingly, filling in for Miss Swan again. She didn’t seem to mind yet another disruption into her schedule.

“I love Storybrooke, but I don’t mind admitting that it’s nice to go out to a big city every now and then.”

The bakery that would make the cake- one of the few that would accommodate the short notice of the order placement- was located in Bangor, which seemed to merge big-city vibes with small-town charm. The bakery itself was lovely, with a white and beige storefront and a myriad of colourful treats on display. It smelled strongly of vanilla and chocolate inside, and there was a dreamy, romantic sort of quality to the decoration. They were ushered into a warm, cosy room where they spent the next hour and a half tasting different cakes, one better than the next.

“Emma is a bit chocolate obsessed, so I’m leaning towards the chocolate champagne one. It was delicious.”

He tried not to replay in his mind the way she had moaned at the first taste of that one, eyes closing in absolute bliss.

“I still can’t believe that little urchin had me fill in for him again, so I’m not even considering his tastes. My vote is for the strawberry shortcake.”

Belle frowned, idly liking some frosting from her fork. His left hand tightened around the napkin on his lap.

“Isn’t Bae allergic to strawberries?”

“Exactly.”

The librarian laughed, which he was rather surprised by. Very few shared his rather dark sense of humour, most found the content and his delivery of it rather off-putting. He tried not to preen at the idea.

“Might want to hold on in killing him until after the wedding. After all, we have invested quite a few hours into the preparation already. Feels more like our wedding, in a way.”

He choked on a rather lovely piece of red velvet cheesecake, fumbling for his glass of water to try and wash it down. He realised the danger he was in, all of a sudden, perhaps too late. His crush had been safe when he had not had much of a chance to interact with the librarian and get to know her. But spending entire days with her had changed things, giving his feelings depth that he did not entirely appreciate. His instinct of self-preservation was urging him to do something. Say something mean or cutting, or close himself off. Perhaps invent some business emergency and leave, letting Belle figure out on her own how to get back to town. If she was cross with him, if she hated him, if she decided to keep his distance, he would be safe.

But, surprisingly, he found that he was rather tired of feeling safe, and of pushing people away.

“You know, we didn’t do half-bad in the end, all things considered.”

He turned around, tearing his eyes away from his son and his new wife trying to waltz. He was sure someone was filming it, anyway, and he’d get to tease Bae about it later. Belle looked absolutely stunning in a Halston dress, an architectural number in navy blue with a champagne-coloured lining that peeped from the folds of the skirts and a bit of a train in the back, the hem landing above the knee at the front and below it at the back. It was a far cry from what most women were wearing, in particular the friends of the mother of the bride, but it was exactly what he had expected from her: bold, flirty, and the slightest bit of out place in a small town, without really seeming to realise. Her lips were a lovely deep, dark red and smiling wide. At him, of all people.

“Yes. The flowers do look splendid, Miss French. You have quite an eye for it.”

She hooked her arm through his, looking admonishingly up at him.

“It’s Belle. Unless you’ve decided I cannot call you Arran anymore.”

If he were stronger, he would politely insist on calling her Miss French, thus gently reestablishing their more formal dynamic. It would be safer, certainly. But he found himself unable to muster the energy for it. It was a happy day, and he was ecstatic as the father of the groom should be. Seemed like the occasion to do what he wanted and not necessarily what he thought was best. Indulge a bit.

“Belle, then. I rather like how you pronounce my name, seems a shame to make you stop.”

Her eyes widened, and so did her smile. He tried to remember how many glasses of champagne he had drunk, but could not recall. He had indulged there too, but that was only because he had been sitting next to David Nolan for dinner and he had kept trying to talk to him about sports. He had made the mistake of trying to discuss the UEFA Super Cup, but that had only led to ten minutes of David Nolan referring to football as soccer and displaying no understanding of the rules of the game.

“So, how’s the proud father? Was it all you hoped it would be?”

He looked around. The venue was lovely, a manor outside Storybrooke that was used exclusively for events like weddings and such, with extensive gardens and lovely, broad balconies. The Nolans had secured the place, seemed they knew the owner and had been able to pull some strings. It was decorated a bit like an enchanted forest, in shades of silver, gold and bold touches of bright pink and dark blue.

“Well, Bae remembered his lines and didn’t step on Miss Swan’s train at any point so the wedding has exceeded my wildest expectations.”

He glanced again towards his son, dancing something a bit more lively with Emma and looking infinitely more at ease doing so. They truly suited each other, and he was glad of that. Glad that Bae would know, hopefully, nothing but love in his family he meant to build for himself.

“It’s a lovely song. Would you care to dance?”

A tricky question, since the answer was both a resounding no and a desperate yes, but he merely pointed towards his cane as a way out. It seemed he was not the only one emboldened by drink, however, if Belle’s flashing eyes and red cheeks were anything to go by.

“Oh, come on, just some gentle swaying. We could go outside, if you don’t wish others to see. It’s a bit stuffy in here anyway.”

There was no way for him to deny her, nor did he wish to anymore. He let her lead him out, into one of the terrace-like balconies attached to the ballroom, and wrapped her arms around his neck, prompting his own to wrap around her waist. They soon fell into a slow, easy rhythm, lazy and yet strangely exhilarating. He felt loose and tightly-wound at the same time, and could not decide whether he liked the feeling or not.

“It really is a lovely wedding, by the way.”

“Yes, I think we did rather well, all things considered. Certainly more than what Bae deserved, taking into account how little he worked for it.”

She tugged on his hair, he assumed as a way to chastise him. It had rather the opposite result, sending a jolt of fizzy pleasure up and down his spine.

“You rather enjoyed it, admit it. And I did too. In a way it’s sad that the wedding has happened and our outings are at an end.”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, teeth worrying her lower lip the slightest bit. He got the feeling that there was something he was not seeing or sensing, some signal he was not quite deciphering. But it was getting rather difficult to think, with the champagne in his veins, and the feel of Belle in his arms and the way she smelt like orange blossom.

“You look lovely, by the way.” He realised he hadn’t told her, and it seemed like a major oversight. “Stunning, really. Gorgeous. Too good to be wasting your time out on the balcony with me.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? When had he lost complete control of his bleeding mouth?

“Don’t say that. I like spending time with you. A lot.” She bit her lip again and he wondered if his blood pressure could take it. “Actually, I was hoping we could spend more time together, if you wished it.”

There was no mistaking the flirty turn of her lips, or the coyness dancing in her eyes, even to an expert in self-denial such as him. He tried to form words to reply to her, something along the lines of “Yes, please” or “Is it tomorrow night too soon?” but his vocal cords were suddenly useless, and in a sudden panic that she would interpret his stupid silence for a rejection of her advances he leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. He felt her stiffen in his arms for a second, saw her eyes widen in surprise, but the next moment she was pressing back against him, tipping her head back to better capture his mouth with her own. She took absolute control with a quiet, fierce determination that he found incredibly erotic. He was happy to reciprocate, to tighten his arm around her waist and open his mouth to her, his left hand tightening around the handle of his cane with something that felt like petulant frustration at not being able to simply drop the damned thing hold her properly, perhaps delve a hand into her hair, feel if it was as soft as it always looked.

She seemed to read his mind, for she maneuvered them clumsily towards the rather tall balustrade. He eagerly leaned against it before dropping his cane in the nick of time to catch the librarian’s leg, which sought to wrap itself around his waist. Her obvious, undisguised want was disarming, making him forget himself in a way he had never allowed himself to-

“Papa, what the fuck?”

“Belle!”

Both him and Belle startled, with her regretfully taking a few steps away from him, leaving him to notice the chill in the air. When he glanced at the entrance of the balcony he saw his son and Miss Swan, looking radiant in her Vera Wang dress and also, bizarrely, quite smug.

“Hey, Bae, didn’t see you there.”

His accent barely made the words intelligible, but there was no helping that. He always lost control of his brogue when he was nervous.

“Clearly!” Bae sounded shrill, more child than man. Reminded him of the infamous temper-tantrums the lad had thrown once upon a time. “How could you? At my own wedding?!”

Fuck, he was right. He had been caught fucking making-out and almost doing God-knew-what just a few bloody steps away from his son’s wedding reception. What was the matter with him?

“I mean, why couldn’t you wait? I had almost won the bet!”

What?

“You only had to last until after the wedding! I was so close, pops! And you were doing so well!”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad. Now remember, Bae, you promised at least two dances with Regina’s sister. At least she’s unlikely to hit on you at your own wedding, so there’s that.”

Emma smiled up at her new husband, kissed his cheek, turned him around and directed him back towards the ballroom with a not-so-gentle smack in the ass. She smiled, gave Belle a thumbs up and an “atta girl” and walked out of the balcony, closing the French doors behind her.

“What the fuck was that?”

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #magicalgiven #Rumbelle secret santa #RSS 2020 #rumbelle secret santa 2020

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