#extremely cool that you own your own place but also you own every single annoyance that comes with it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

souichioneshots · 3 years

Text

Grim Reaper 【Souichi x Reader】 (Fluff)

Souichi claims he's been cursed. Now everything he touches dies! However, that doesn't stop him from spending time with you. Can you hold back from touching the boy and dying? Let's find out~~~!! ahahaha

(I think this counts as affectionate!reader but idk lol)

Souichi carefully held onto the drink in his hand as he sat back down in between your legs.

Resting his body against your soft chest, you wrapped your arms around his waist. He was completely engulfed by your love. Although he was a bit embarrassed at first by how affectionate you could be, it had become a habit for him to want to be so close to you all the time.

【And now back to ‘DEATH’S ASSISTANT’】

Souichi took a sip of his drink as the show you two had been hooked on recently started back up.

It was a Japanese drama about a Grim Reaper who had been assigned a foreign assistant. Apparently, they fell for one another as soon as their eyes met. Every day they tell each other how much they love one another, but because of Death’s curse, he is unable to touch his love. The show depicts their everyday work lives. Showing how far they would go for one another to prove their love, but never being able to be truly affectionate. Souichi wasn’t really into these types of lovey-dovey dramas, but the supernatural antics that it included drew him in deeper and deeper.

【Assistant, we cant! You know if we touch, you’ll die!】

【I would risk dying a million times just to feel your lips pressed against mine even just once, Death~.】

“Guuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!”

Souichi laughed as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. The scene was so cheesy and overdone, but you loved it. For a morbid girl, you really were a sucker for love stories.

“You’re gonna miss the show if you don’t look up.” Souichi chuckle and patted your head.

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you continued to watch the last few minutes left of the drama.

“Death really outdid it with his outfit today, huh?” Souichi commented.

In today’s episode, Death had been wearing a bright red suit with a black suit-shirt instead of his usual black suit and black tie.

“I think it really suits him.”

“You think everything suits him.”

“Of course. If you’re handsome, then anything and everything looks good on you.”

Souichi lifted his shoulder up towards his head, squishing your face against him.

“Owwww Owowowow!!”

“What’s so handsome about that old actor?”

Souichi finally released the pressure, allowing you to relax.

Pulling your head away from his body, you rubbed your cheeks.

“Hmm…Well, for one his eyes are absolutely beautiful. Thin, sharp, and the dark circles around them make him look so mysterious. And his dark, wavy hair looks so soft! I just want to run my hands through it as mess it up even more.”

Souichi couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you described what you found attractive about the ‘dreamy man’ on the television. He honestly felt like you were just describing him. He knew you must have a type, but he didn’t think it would be this similar to him every time. You must have felt like you won the jackpot with him.

“But what I really like is the fact that he’s always wearing a suit.” Wrapping your arms back around his waist, you squeezed him a bit “You can tell his assistant also thinks the same thing because she's always staring at him. She just wants to touch him soooo much. But she knows she'll die if she does! Haa~~ I love it!”

Souichi hummed in amusement as he listened to you speak.

Seeing that he fit all the other conditions you looked for in a guy, Souichi thought of a perfect way he could use this little fantasy you love so much for his amusement.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

When the next night came, Souichi quickly got to preparing himself. He had asked if he could go over to watch a movie tonight.

He usually didn’t pay much attention to what he wore whenever he hung out alone with you. But tonight, he decided to mix things up a bit.

Making sure he had everything he needed in his pockets, Souichi set off to your house.

Creepily excited laughter slipped from the boy’s lips as he walked down the street by himself. He couldn’t wait to see your reaction when you laid your eyes upon him.

Finally reaching your front door, he knocked.

“Good evening~” Souichi greeted as you opened the door.

Before you could greet the boy back, you froze. Your mouth gaped open and your eyes widened as you looked upon your boyfriend.

“S…SS..S-Suit..Suitsuitsuit…” You brought your hands up to your face, unsure where to place them. This was the first time you had ever seen him wearing such an outfit before.

Finally bringing your hands out towards Souichi, you tried to touch him.

“Ah!” Souichi quickly jumped back. “You can’t.”

A look of worry and confusion grew on your face as the boy rejected your touch.

“Remember when I called you this morning and said I might have messed up a curse?”

You shook your head yes.

“Well, it turns out that as a side effect, whatever I touch now dies almost immediately.”

Leaning against the doorframe, you looked at the boy with a smile of disbelief.

“You’re just copying ‘Death’s Assistant’ aren’t you.”

Souichi hated how well you could read him. But that didn’t mean he was going to admit that you were right. At least not right now.

“No! I swear.” Sliding one hand into his suit pocket, he leaned down onto the grass that covered your front yard. “Every time I touch something as delicate as a flower…” Pulling out his hand from his pocket, he placed it over a daisy that had been growing for some time. “Well... This happens.” Moving back up, Souichi revealed that the flower he touched had shriveled up and died.

“No way…” You whispered as he allowed the dead flower to trickle onto the palm on your hands.

“Yeah…It’s a bummer.” Placing his foot over the real flower still planted in the ground, he tried to hide the evidence. “But I’m sure this curse will wear off by next week. 2 weeks at most.”

You quickly moved to the side as Souichi let himself into your home.

“What are you doing? Wouldn’t it be dangerous for us to be together right now?”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. As long as we don’t touch that is.” Giving you a smile, Souichi kicked off his shoes and made his way down to your bedroom.

As the raven-haired boy walked down the hall, he moved his hands close to the wall, just barely coming into contact with the wallpaper. He honestly thought it would be really cool if he could make the wallpaper roll up and crumble into pieces just from touching it. Just like in the drama. Perhaps there really was a curse out there that would give him that ability.

Finally reaching your room, he took ahold of the door handle and gestured for you to go in first. Being in a suit really did make him feel like more of a gentleman. It was kind of fun.

Sitting on your bed, Souichi watched as you set up the DVD player.

He tried to hold back his foolish laughter as he thought about how miserable you were going to be all night from not being able to touch him.

You. The girl who could barely go 5 minutes without at least leaning against his shoulder, was now being forced to keep her hands to herself in order to avoid never waking up again.

This was gonna be hilarious.

“So, lemme ask you.” You pulled the boy out of his own little world as you sat on the bed with him. “Why the suit?”

“The suit? Oh. Umm…” Souichi’s mind froze for a second. He was going to say an excuse that all his other clothes suddenly turn to dust when he touched them, but now that sounded extremely stupid and unbelievable. Especially since he was able to touch your bedsheets with no problem. “…To match the whole ‘death’ theme...”

“Oh~ That makes sense. Always gotta be prepared for a funeral when everything you touch dies, right?”

“Exactly!”

Souichi let out a small sigh of relief as you commented an equally believable reason for the suit. He was glad you were almost always on the same level as him.

Finally dropping the subject, you pressed the button on the remote for the movie to play.

Souichi tapped his finger against the bed in annoyance as you kept a good amount of distance from him. It didn’t seem like you would try to touch him any time soon.

Looks like he needed to take things up a notch if he wanted to have some real fun.

Leaning forward, he swiftly took off his black jacket. You quickly ducked as his hand almost came in contact with your head.

Leaning his arm on your pillow, he relaxed his body. A single nail stayed poking out from between his lips, making it look like he was smoking.

Souichi couldn't help but smile as he saw you take quick glances at him. Your eyes kept moving from his pants to his white suit shirt, and finally to his face. He could see a blush spread across your cheeks as you quickly turned away from him, avoiding his gaze. You looked completely head over heels for him.

Sliding to the side, you leaned ever so close to the boy.

“Does the ‘being killed on the spot’ rule apply even over clothes~?” A blush spread across his pale face as you whispered in his ear, making sure not to come into direct contact with his shoulder. He could see your hand hovering over his suit pants, craving to touch the expensive-looking material.

Did you really not believe him or were you just begging to die?

Moving a bit away from you, he replied. “Probably not a good idea. Haven’t tested that out yet…” He let out a little laugh as he mentioned how awkward it would be for him to have to wake up your family and tell them that he killed you by accident.

Souichi looked from the corner of his eyes as you let out a small sigh and moved back into your own little space. This sudden rule of no touching looked like it was taking a toll on you.

Honestly, he was expecting you to be a bit more excited by this situation. After all, this was one of your favorite fantasies. To love one another, but never be able to touch unless you were willing to die on the spot. You should be spewing cheesy lines like in the drama, not sulking.

Moving the nails against his teeth, he tried to think of a way to fix things. After all, this wouldn’t be fun if you got too sad and decided to stop acting like your usual self halfway through the night.

Moving his arm out towards you, he pulled on the edge of his suit jacket.

“I think it’d be fine if you held onto this though…” He turned his face to the side, trying to hide his blush as you smiled once again.

Throughout the movie, Souichi kept his arm up in the air as you happily held onto his jacket. His body felt oddly unsatisfied from not being properly touched by you. But, this was his own fault for deciding to go through with such a cold prank.

You both stayed surprisingly calm and silent as the movie played on.

Souichi kept the nails in his mouth pressed tightly against his teeth as he kept his eyes on the screen. The movie you chose wasn’t half bad at all. The effects, the props, the acting. All very realistic. To be expected from new foreign movies.

However, this feeling of calmness didn’t last long as an unnecessarily long make-out scene between the main characters had started up again. Another specialty of foreign horror movies. The acting for these scenes just had to be extremely believable as well…

Souichi tensed up a bit as he felt you let go of his jacket, finally allowing him to rest his hand back down near his body.

It wasn’t that he disliked these types of scenes. But something about watching them alone with you always made him feel a bit restless.

Souichi moved his legs closer to his body, trying to get in a more comfortable position. He really regretted starting this whole ‘touch me and you’ll die’ prank now.

Pulling on the black-tie wrapped around his neck, he tried to calm himself down.

“People get really horny right before they die, huh?…”

Souichi noticed you jolt a bit at the sound of his voice. All he got in response from you was a little ‘yeah’ and an awkward laugh.

As the teens on the screen started to undress, Souichi noticed you also start to fidget around in your spot. You looked like you wanted to sit closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t.

Shakily bringing your hand over his leg again, you whispered. “Are you sure I’ll die if I touch you over your clothes?...”

This time he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just moved his leg closer to you, giving you an okay to try and touch him.

He watched as you cautiously placed the tips of your fingers on his knee. You let out a sigh of relief as you realized you were going to die from touching him over his clothes.

Careful not to accidentally touch any part of his body not covered by his clothes, you turned towards his.

Pinching the fabric of his suit jacket, you pulled his hand up. Souichi’s heartbeat sped up as you moved his bare hand to touch your clothed breast.

“Looks like it works both ways. As long as your skin doesn’t come into direct contact with mine, I’ll be just fine.”

Souichi’s eyes followed your hands as they moved back towards his pants once more.

You were really pushing the envelope.

But, if you were gonna play like that, then he saw no harm in playing along as well.

Sliding his hand down from your chest to your waist, he pulled you to come closer to him.

“That means we can’t do anything more than this though…” Souichi whisper as he inched his face closer to yours. “We should stop now before we do something that can’t be undone.” He teased you with lies, practically ordering you to go further.

“You don’t wanna die from one of my curses, do you?”

“It’d be a blessing to die from one of your curses…”

Something within Souichi switched on as he heard you whisper your confession to him. That felt like the most romantic thing you'd ever said to him.

Without saying another word, Souichi pressed his lips against yours. To think he was the one who ended up not being able to hold back from you this time.

Suddenly, pressing your hands against his shoulder, you pushed yourself away from the kiss.

“Agk! My heart!” Holding your hand against your chest, you threw yourself back to lay on the bed. “I…I!!! Gah…”

Souichi couldn’t help but laugh as you pretended to die in an over-exaggerated manner.

You opened one of your eyes, looked at the boy, and then closed it again. Souichi could see you trying your best to hold back a smile as you laid perfectly still.

“You knew I wasn’t cursed the entire time, didn’t you?”

“...Was it that obvious?” You laughed a bit as you finally sat back up.

“When did you figure out I was lying?”

“Hmm~”

You just hummed and swayed your head side to side. Not telling him when you knew for a fact he was not actually cursed.

“If I can be honest, you should have said something more believable for the suit. Then maybe I would have believed you completely." Leaning up against the boy you thought for a second. "Like umm... All your other clothes disintegrated the second you touched them. But because you've worn this suit to a funeral before, it was the only thing that stayed intact."

"Ahh!! I swear I was gonna say that!!"

You let out a hum and looked at the boy once again with a smile of disbelief.

"I swear!"

Getting up from the bed, he put on his suit jacket again.

"Let's restart." He sat back down on the edge of your bed. "Ask me why I'm wearing a suit."

"Okay." You also moved to sit on the edge, next to him. "Hey, Souichi. Why are you--" Unconsciously, your hand brushed up against his. "AGK!" You threw your body back and pretended to die again.

"No!! Y/N!!" He picked you up by your shoulders and forced you to sit back up. "Again."

As his hands moved away from your shoulders, he accidentally touched your neck. Making you jump back again.

"Agggkk!!"

"Stop dying!!" He yelled as you held your hand up to your neck and pretended to choke and die.

Souichi let out a loud groan as you continued to laugh at his frustrated expression.

This prank wasn't as funny as he thought it would be.

#souichi x reader #souichi tsujii x reader #fluff #this is stupid #but oh well #lots of misspells for sure #but i tried man #10 pages of work is a pain to check

266 notes · View notes

classyklancey · 3 years

Text

White Magnolia

Pairing: Keith Kogane x Lance McClain Genre: fluff (pining idiots) Warnings: Keith is so in love it’s gross Summary: Lance convinces Keith to go on a road trip with him to California. Keith struggles to hide his pining Word Count: 3.5k words A/N: this was supposed to be posted for Lance’s birthday but oh well-

Keith doesn’t know why he decided to indulge Lance in such a crazy fantasy. One minute Lance is just rambling about what he misses about Cuba and the next, Lance is driving them both from Texas to California in his blue Tacoma. Keith really can’t find it in him to complain though with the way the sun is shining on Lance’s beautiful bronze skin and the wind is blowing through his brown, curly locks.

What Keith can complain about though is Lance’s terrible taste in music. For some reason, Lance’s road trip playlist—which is mysteriously called ‘Not a thing to do, but talk to you. WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! HELLO WISCONSIN!’ and no matter how much Keith asks, Lance refuses to tell him why it’s called that—is mostly consisted of 90s songs. Being the pining idiot that he is though, Keith can’t find it in him to do any more than light teasing in Lance’s direction as he screeches all the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

One song does however catch Keith’s attention, especially since Lance immediately tries to skip it. “What was that?” Keith asks, smashing his pointer finger against the back button on the radio to bring it back to the song that Lance is currently blushing over.

“Nothing! Stop hitting the back button!” Lance screeches as he keeps trying to skip it only for Keith to hit the back button. They do this three or four times before Lance reaches his right hand over to smack and hit Keith. Keith grunts with every hit that Lance lands, not even noticing that the song he’s been trying to skip is finally playing.

When I first saw you, I saw love And the first time you touched me, I felt love And after all this time You're still the one I love, mmm, yeah-yeah

Keith starts to blush along with Lance, his hand smacking Lance’s away and finally bringing the brunette’s attention back to the song playing. Lance hurriedly skips it and looks at Keith out of the corner of his eye, but Keith pretends not to see as he looks out the window. Keith just assumes that Lance is embarrassed for having such a lovey-dovey song playing with Keith here, but Keith can’t help but feel that this is their song.

Keith is a stupid man who has been stupidly in love with someone who will never return his feelings for as long as they’ve known each other. Keith instantly took a liking to Lance despite having never even had a conversation together. Keith had always admired that Lance was so outspoken and friendly with everyone he met.

Well, except for Keith.

No, you see, Lance had somehow decided that Keith was his rival and that Lance would take him down. First, it was little things, like Lance trying to do better than him on quizzes and he’d brag each and every time he’d even get one single point more than Keith. That was annoying but it wasn’t too bad, Keith could handle that. It slowly began to escalate though over time until it turned to them yelling in each other’s faces and having to be pulled away from one another before it got physical. All that ended up doing was causing Keith to shut him out and pretend he didn’t even exist despite the fact that he could barely keep his eyes off of the blue-eyed Cuban. They ended up getting into the same friend group though since Hunk is friends with Lance, Keith is friends with Pidge, and Hunk and Pidge are friends with each other. It didn’t take them long to bring Keith and Lance together, even though it did take a long, long time. The duo eventually started to see each other as friends and became as thick as thieves.

Keith always craved for more though.

Keith is knocked out of his reminiscing when Lance curses because he missed a turn, his frown instantly becoming a smile when one of his favorite songs comes on. Lance goes back to screaming the words which causes Keith’s grey eyes to roll towards the back of his head. Despite his supposed annoyance, his heart is doing tricks in his chest whenever Lance grows focused on driving, which causes his screeching to become light, melodic singing.

Keith is starting to believe that this is what heaven would be like.

Keith’s eyes focus on Lance’s right hand that rests on the gear shift, his fingers tapping along to whatever annoying song he is playing. Keith suddenly has the urge to reach out and tangle their fingers together, to compare who’s hand is bigger and how their skin tones contrast beautifully.

This all repeats for a while, along with occasional chatter, for about eight hours before Lance grows too tired to drive on anymore. They have about twelve more hours to drive and Keith offers to drive while Lance sleeps, but Lance has an odd reaction. He claims he doesn’t trust Keith to drive ‘his baby’ but something Lance doesn’t know is that Keith has become a bit of a Lance expert. If they’re getting food and Lance says he doesn’t want any, what he really is saying is he doesn’t want to make Keith pay since he forgot his wallet. If Lance seems off and says he’s fine when Keith asks about it, what he really means is that he’s not okay but he wants to appear strong in front of everyone.

So, when Lance says he doesn’t trust Keith to drive his car, what he’s really saying is that he wants them to enjoy the ride there together. ‘It’s called a road trip for a reason, Keith.’ Keith doesn’t fight him on it and offers that they get some food before spending the night in a motel.

After getting some extremely greasy fast food and talking until really late, they finally head into their crappy and very worrisome motel. They both stop in the doorway when they find that there’s only one bed, making both of them stare at it in silence.

“I can sle—”

“I don’t mind tak—”

They both go quiet again when they both talk at the same time, both of their bodies turned slightly away from each other. Lance sighs and places his bag onto a small table by the door, starting to unzip it to pull out all his nightly routine items. “Look, why don’t we just share the bed? The floor is absolutely disgusting and I’m afraid one of us would catch something if we even tried sitting on it,” Lance says as he pulls everything out and begins heading for the bathroom. He makes a face when he walks inside of it before turning to smile at Keith and shooting him his signature wink.

Keith sighs and sets his bag on the chair by the table, deciding that he really didn’t want to sleep on the gross floor nor did he want to make Lance do it. Lance would probably complain about it through the entire night and all of his life if he ended up sleeping there anyway. Keith changes into his pajamas right there seeing as how Lance has seen Keith shirtless many times. Not that he ever seems to notice Keith’s shirtlessness…

The same doesn’t go for Keith though. Oh, no no. Keith has become the master at staring at Lance without getting caught. Well, sometimes he does and each time he’s caught, his face erupts in color. Lance always just assumes it’s from their recent workout or being out in the sun too long. Keith thanks God every day for Lance’s obliviousness despite the fact that he’s not religious. Keith catches himself staring at Lance more than the Cuban man does. He can’t help himself though. Lance has the looks of a god, what with his smooth, caramel skin, thick, curly hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, perfectly straight, white teeth, and the list goes on. Keith’s pretty sure he could write a whole book—no, a trilogy—on Lance’s perfect body. The thing Keith hates the most about his stupid crush though is that it’s not just his body that he likes. No, that would make Keith’s life easier and he’s pretty sure that the universe is out to spite him. No, Keith has to like all of Lance. His bad puns, his stupid finger guns, his cheesy pick-up lines, his corny sense of humor, his everything. Keith wants all of him more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

“Alright, bathroom’s yours!” Lance calls as he walks back over to his bag, smiling when he sees that Keith is wearing the pajama set that Lance had gotten him for Christmas one year. “No way!” Lance shouts in glee before rushing to his bag to pull out his matching pair. Keith sighs down at his red pajamas before looking at Lance’s blue pajamas.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he grumbles as he walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I’m not doing anything!” Lance huffs as he starts pulling on his own pjs. Once they are all ready for bed, they stand at the foot of it in another silence.

“So, uh, what side of the bed do you want?” Lance mumbles. Keith shrugs, not really caring either way what side he gets. “Cool, can I get the left side then?” he continues, already moving onto that side of the bed before Keith can even reply. Keith huffs a laugh through his nose before crawling onto the right side. Both of them lay on top of the covers, too scared of what lies beneath the covers to let their skin touch it. Good thing Arizona is such a warm state cause Keith would think he’d freeze otherwise. Guess it also helps that their AC unit doesn’t work anyway.

Unlike Lance, Keith has always been an early riser, so he’s not surprised when he wakes up before the brunette. What he is surprised to find though is that Lance is laying on his chest softly snoring away. Keith’s arms are wrapped around Lance’s torso and he can’t help but to squeeze him a little tighter, hoping that this isn’t a dream. Keith then finds that the still snoozing dork is sweating buckets, if Lance’s semi-damp clothes are anything to go by. Keith’s nose wrinkles at how gross they are but, of course, Keith’s poor weak heart starts beating faster at the fact that they’re cuddling.

And maybe Keith’s wildly beating heart is what causes Lance to stir and to slowly blink his eyes open. He’s letting out a yawn and beginning to stretch before halting in the middle of it, his eyes growing as wide as plates. He suddenly jerks away from Keith, doing so in such a harsh way that it causes him to tumble to the floor with a scream. Keith laughs and sits up, crawling over to Lance’s side of the bed to look over the edge at him. He finds Lance frowning and glaring up at the amused look on Keith’s face.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles up at Keith, his frown turning into a pout as he sits up. Keith helps Lance up before offering Lance the bathroom first. Lance’s face warms as he stares at where he was once laying, Keith’s brow-raising up at him as he just stands there gawking. He then clears his throat and forces out a bad joke before scurrying to the bathroom.

They both take turns showering and while Lance is taking his, Keith lets his mind wander while he lays on the stiff bed. Keith’s stupid heart makes his stupid brain wonder what it would be like to wake up beside Lance every day, seeing the dried drool on the corner of his mouth and witnessing his sleepy blue eyes come to life the moment they see Keith.

Keith snaps out of his daydream when the bathroom door swings open and reveals a glistening Lance emerging with rolls of steam curling around his body. Keith recognizes the hypnotizing smell of Lance’s vanilla shampoo all the way from the bed, making his heart flutter with the familiar scent.

After Keith takes a brisk shower, they are on the road again. They stop to get breakfast at a diner before leaving the town that they stopped in. It isn’t until they’re in California that they stop again, this time pulling over onto the side of the road. Keith is about to ask why Lance is pulling over when Lance leans against the car and just looks out in front of him. Keith finally takes his eyes off of Lance to look at what Lance has stopped to admire.

When he turns his head, he sees just what Lance is marveling at. Before them are dozens of white magnolia trees that Keith begins marveling at right along with Lance. Keith slowly gets out of the car and leans against it beside Lance, his eyes finding the side of Lance’s face every few seconds. Keith’s eyes widen when Lance suddenly grabs his hand and begins tugging him towards the trees. “Lance! What are you doing? What about the truck?” Keith hollers. Lance just laughs and continues dragging him along without a care in the world, smiling when they reach the sweet-smelling trees.

Lance starts to hum a song as they weave their way between all of the trees, Keith’s heart threatening to beat out of his chest with the way the wind is blowing some of the petals and flowers off of the tree and onto Lance’s hair. They spend quite some time there, their hands still clasped together as they wander around. Keith and Lance end up racing from one tree to another and arguing about who clearly won. Once they settle on that it’s a draw (even though it most definitely wasn’t, Lance), they sit down beneath one of the larger trees to escape the unforgiving sun. They lean against each other and talk about any and everything, Keith’s heart threatening to pop out of his chest when Lance keeps mindlessly playing with Keith’s hands. Lance stops telling a story of something that happened last summer mid-sentence when a whole magnolia flower lands in his lap.

“These are edible, you know,” he says as he picks it up, studying it like it’s one of the greatest wonders of the world.

“What?” Keith asks, not being sure if he should trust Lance or not. This could be revenge when Keith told him that a flower he found on their weekly hike was good and tasted like cinnamon. Lance had been suspicious but ended up going for it anyway and immediately regretting it. Lance just about strangled Keith but Keith had laughed so hard that tears were falling down his face. It made Lance’s job of strangling Keith easier though since his body was so weak from laughter.

“Yeah. They’re actually pretty good. They have a mild ginger taste,” he explains. Before Keith can tell him to prove it, he’s already taking a bite. Keith watches with wide eyes as he chews and swallows, a soft smile coming to his face. Either it’s actually good or Lance is an amazing actor. He offers the flower to Keith and Keith decides to go for it just as Lance went for it when their situation was reversed. Keith found that he was, in fact, not lying.

When Lance finally decides they can leave, Keith stops him with a soft smile. He reaches up, tugs one of the flowers from the tree, and then faces Lance, finding his perfectly waxed brows furrowed together. Keith’s smile grows more as he tucks the flower behind Lance’s ear, causing the Cuban’s face to erupt with color.

Keith has changed his mind. This is what heaven must be like.

Lance finally lets Keith choose some music to play once they continue driving, his hand always coming up to tuck the flower back down behind his ear whenever the wind threatens to blow it away. When Keith plays some of his music though, of course Lance complains about the songs. Keith can tell he doesn’t have any malice behind his words though.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t loud and dizzying, Mullet?” Lance jabs, turning to look at him with a crooked smile when they come to a stop at a light. Keith scoffs and turns his gaze away from the many shops lining the street to face Lance.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t repetitive and annoying?” he fires right back with his usual smirk. Lance scoffs just like Keith did before turning his eyes back onto the road, his fingers going back to tapping on the gear shift, which brings Keith’s gaze back to his hand.

When they finally reach their destination in California, the sun is slowly starting to sink towards the horizon. Lance rushes out of the truck stop that they had decided to stop at when he notices it. “Mullet! C’mon! Hurry up! We are going to miss it!” Keith can’t really take him seriously when he’s wearing dollar sign shades that he bought in the gift shop. He’s sure he looks just as ridiculous with his alien eyes shades.

“Miss what?” he asks as he follows Lance at a much slower pace to his truck. Lance doesn’t reply though. Instead, he rips them out of the parking lot before Keith even has his door shut, making Keith screech and holler at him to slow down despite his laughter. He realizes why Lance was in such a big hurry when Lance parks and then flies out of his truck. Keith follows Lance down to the beach, a soft ‘wow’ leaving him when he sees the pretty blue water reflecting the sun that has just touched the horizon. Lance doesn’t seem to think Keith is going fast enough though, seeing as how he snatches his hand up and once again starts dragging him towards the coastline.

When Lance’s bare feet touch the water—wait, when did he take off his shoes?—the biggest smile that Keith has ever seen spreads across Lance’s face. Hunk wasn’t kidding when he told Keith that Lance belongs in the water. Keith smiles and gives his hand a squeeze before turning to look at the setting sun, not even caring that his boots are getting wet right now.

When the sun is gone behind the ocean’s waves, Keith notices they are facing each other with their hands tightly grasped together. Keith isn’t sure how they got into this position but what he is sure of though is that he’s never wanted to kiss Lance more than in this very moment.

“Keith…” Lance suddenly interrupts the peacefulness with a whisper, his eyelids seeming to grow heavy the longer he stares at Keith. Keith is momentarily shocked into silence when Lance uses his name instead of ‘Mullet’ but quickly recovers when he notices Lance slowly getting closer to him.

“Yes?” he whispers back, his voice refusing to get any louder in fear of shattering the dream-like state that they’ve created within the last few minutes.

Instead of verbally replying, Lance leans forward until their noses bump together and their breaths begin to mingle. Keith can taste the spearmint gum that Lance got from the pitstop on his breath, the smell becoming Keith’s favorite scent, second to Lance’s vanilla shampoo. Keith’s heart halts in his chest before going into overdrive when their lips finally touch, Keith’s breath stuttering. As their lips move against each other’s, Keith vaguely listens to the sound of the waves crashing and the seagulls squawking.

Keith is once again corrected. This is what heaven would be like.

Keith is knocked out of their blissful kiss when a bigger wave suddenly washes over their feet, causing water to spill down into his boots. He pulls away with an aggravated grunt, looking down at the saltwater that is now brimming his shoes. “Lance,” Keith growls despite the fact that it wasn’t necessarily Lance’s fault. Their dumb banter comes more naturally for them than anything else.

“What?” Lance crows with a look of indignation on his face, his arms letting Keith’s cheeks go to cross his arms over his chest. They fall into the usual repartee despite the fact that now their arms are wrapped tight around the other and refuse to let go. Well, that is until Keith goes ‘too far’ and makes Lance splash him with water. Keith glares at Lance like a murderous wet cat, his claws and fangs starting to show. Lance lets out a squeak before taking off down the coastline, his laughter deafening the sound of the waves that still lap at their feet.

Keith catches up to Lance with ease, seeing as how the tanned man isn’t actually trying to outrun his new lover. Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist and snatches him back, making Lance’s laughter cut off with a squeal. Keith spins him around which just ends up bringing Lance’s melodic laughter back.

Keith sets him back down and Lance immediately spins around to face Keith, setting their foreheads together. “We should go on another trip soon, Samurai,” he whispers before connecting their lips for another kiss.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Klance

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

246 notes · View notes

eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Uchiha Sasuke/Haruno Sakura

Rating + Notes: M for mentions/implied references of sexual assault

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Selfishly, he thinks that if he could shoulder the burden of her suffering and sync his heart with hers, he would.

“Tch. You’re a shinobi, why are you so soft? Sasuke scoffed.

Sakura whipped her head up towards him from her hunched position.

“You have no idea what I have been through,” she seethed. Clenching her fists tightly, she said, “Despite everything. I have chosen to stay soft,” she spat. She closed her eyes, trying to even out her breathing while fine tremors wracked her body. Light tendrils of electricity seemed to dance across the surface of her skin, her hair rising with static shock. Her chakra was volatile and seeping from every pore—she radiated with energy and tightly controlled killing intent.

“Woah, woah, Sakura-chan,” Naruto said placatingly, raising two hands up. “Teme didn’t mean anything by it—"

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” she glared.

Kakashi leaned forward on his haunches. He knew tensions were bound to rise at some point; he was just surprised that it was Sakura. He glanced at her. She was hunched over, knees drawn up to her chin, arms cradling her body towards the warmth of the fire. Kakashi watched as the flames drew shadows across her tanned skin, watched as the reflection danced in her eyes.

Sasuke was standing over her to her left, hand cocked on his hip glaring at a dirt patch next to Sakura and Naruto was sitting in front of her across the fire. They had been reinstated as a team for the past two months and while she was always professional, they didn’t fit together like they once did.

After the Great Shinobi War, there was a renaissance period during the unprecedented peace time. Art, music, technology, and trade flourished with the lull in military activity. Earth country in particular grew wealthy with the advancements in technology. Already prosperous due to its multitude of gold and silver mines, with the electronic boom, copper, lithium, and palladium’s demand exponentially skyrocketed as technology for everyday use—not just military use—became the norm.

“Your mission is to assassinate a lord in a remote estate in the Land of Earth,” Tsunade explained to Team 7.

Team 7 stood in front of their Hokage’s heavy wood desk. Kakashi was hunched over as usual, lackadaisically taking in the mission details while absentmindedly watching the rest of his team. Naruto was, as always, excited to be sent on a mission although his optimism had tempered a bit after the war. To Naruto’s left stood Sasuke. Standing stiffly, he scowled lightly at his blonde teammate’s excited chatter and puffed a sigh as his and Tsunade’s glares did nothing to silence his ramblings. Off to the side stood Sakura. She held her left elbow with her right hand and stared ahead at Tsunade, ignoring her two teammate’s bickering. She watched her mentor valiantly try and explain the rest of the mission and hardly cracked a smile when Tsunade sent a paperweight hurtling Naruto’s way.

Once regaining everyone’s attention, Tsunade continued with the mission details.

“Using the natural resources on his estate, the lord used the profits to create his own tech company. With the raw materials at his disposal, he bought machinery and vertically integrated his company—” she narrowed her eyes at Naruto who started to stare out the window.

"Oi, brat! You better take notes!” she shouted, breaking him out of his daydreams. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as Tsunade continued.

“Basically,” she said, rolling her eyes, “he owns the natural resources, the machinery, and the man power for every step of the manufacturing process and has a bunch of legal whatever to his product so he’s become richer than ever,” the Hokage waved her hands absentmindedly.

Although the post war boom was financially beneficial for the Five Great Nations, smaller nations had not seen much of a difference in their standards of living. The major nations focused on establishing open trade routes and flows of information between themselves and failed to include smaller countries at the discussion table. Thus, a great migration took place. While civilians and shinobi alike travelled the elemental nations more freely due to the decrease in tensions with the airs of truce and allyship, many single women from smaller villages migrated to the great nations for work and better opportunities.

Many of whom ended up on the Earth lord’s estate, working along the assembly line. The position seemed generous enough: lodging was provided in dormitory like-housing and food was also provided in a mess hall. The hours were long, but they worked five days a week.

Tsunade unfurled a detailed map on her desk and Team 7 gathered around, committing the details to memory. The estate was strategically built with a mountain as a protective shield at the rear while a wide expanse of rolling green fields surrounding the estate ensured that potential enemies had no place to hide. It was as expansive as it was beautiful.

Boasting acres of greenery, Sakura imagined the smell of wild grass and flowers mingling with fertile soil. The fertility of the region would mean the grounds were likely lush with hearty wildflowers and medicinal herbs. The meadows at the base of the mountain would be plentiful and the mountain breeze would circulate cool, crisp air. Especially for those seeking a quiet life away from busy cityscapes, Sakura could imagine that the lord’s estate seemed to provide a quiet haven with an idyllic backdrop.

Continuing on with the report, Tsunade relayed that the Tsuchikage had received several reports from the workers’ family and friends that something was amiss. Listening to witness accounts and poring over letters, Earth’s intelligence confirmed suspicions although the letters never disclosed specifics.

The Tsuchikage had sent a discreet reconnaissance force to infiltrate and observe the ongoings of the estate. Despite the beautiful scenery, life at the estate was anything but. The mission report detailed that the lord took advantage of many of the women and held them hostage by threatening to blacklist them and their families. Guards patrolled the area constantly, on high alert for any worker who might slip out into the night to disclose company secrets. The report noted only women from outside Earth were permitted as workers to decrease the likelihood of suspicious family or friends coming to the estate and to lower the success of an unlikely escape.

Imploring the Hokage, the Tsuchikage asked that the assassination of the lord be kept discreet. Making his death appear as an accident was of the utmost importance—and Sakura’s primary duty. Following the lord’s death, the estate and its holdings would be turned over to the state as the lord had no next of kin. The mission would be lucrative for the Tsuchikage, and the women would be free to go if they wished.

What went unsaid was that the mission would ensure that the state would not be held accountable for providing mental or physical aid to the victims of the lord. When Earth shinobi arrive and explain that the guards and workers will be reevaluated, some women, the Tsuchikage reasoned, would expose the lord and guards who abused their powers. The state would clean up the guards, instate new ones and gain the thanks and appreciation of the women workers.

It made Sakura sick.

A year after the war and the new increase in trade, information, and people were normal aspects of daily life. Shinobi immediately began rehabilitation post-war and the program, headed by Sakura, reported positive effects. Post-war life was hard for shinobi who had become accustomed to a state of hyper-awareness during combat—settling into the monotony of peacetime, especially for strictly combative shinobi, had been difficult. For the past year Naruto and Sasuke had found their rhythm again, falling into easy friendship that was built on a foundation of begrudging respect although it was masked with bickering, sparring, and petty annoyances. Kakashi easily meshed back into their dynamic.

Immediately following the war, Sakura was extremely busy with the administrative and legal overhaul of the shinobi system. Reviewing outdated protocols, researching alternatives, and creating new proposals, she had not rekindled her bonds with Team 7 as the others did. What little free time she had, she spent it quietly with Sai and the rest of her graduating class.

Team 7 had been reinstated a few months prior to the one year war anniversary. They were designated as a specialty unit—their collective powers largely unneeded due to the peacetime and the necessity of Sakura’s medical and legal acumen in village proceedings—but Naruto and Kakashi insisted. While suspicions around Sasuke’s loyalty lingered, the rest of Team 7 acted as a power and emotional safeguard.

During missions, Naruto seemed to fall back to their genin days. He would purposefully annoy Sasuke and Sasuke would pretend to be irritated back. They would bicker and banter with Kakashi feigning tiredness, but the crinkle in his eyes said otherwise. Sakura would be quiet. Naruto would try and rope her in with banter and shenanigans, but remained aloof, side stepping his attempts.

For her, it wasn’t like being placed on a temporary assignment with an established team where their deep trust reflected in the easiness of their movements. With Team 7, she felt perpetually on edge. She trusted their power and their commitment to each other, but she felt weary of Sasuke. She felt a lingering bitterness towards Kakashi. Naruto hurt to look at sometimes.

Sasuke noticed. For someone who was constantly observing, hyper aware of every flinch and averted eye he had inspired throughout the years, it was hard not to. Providing her comfort the only way he knew how, he gave her space. From the years as a missing-nin, the crimes he had committed, and the genjutsu he had put her under at the end of the war left her understandably weary.

As the team was reinstated, he tried talking. As much as he was able to. He would nod to her when she healed him, smirk at her when she pulverized an enemy, and raise an eyebrow when she flirted information out of a target. He’d order tempura at restaurants so she could have it as a side and he’d give her the last dango off his skewer saying he didn’t like sweets.

She had changed a lot from the memory he had of her before leaving the village. The war, he figured, changed a lot of people. She was always so loud and earnest in her feelings for him—for anyone really. And while she still had fire within her—from the way she’d chastise Naruto for still utilizing his sexy-no-jutsu or slap the back of their heads when they got unnecessarily injured and tried to hide it from her, she was guarded.

Perhaps, Sasuke thought, this was just her adult self. War veteran, war hero, director of the hospital, best medic in all the nations, one of the most in demand shinobi, her accolades as Konoha’s golden girl went on forever.

But, he thought back to when he uncharacteristically joined Naruto for a night out with the rest of their graduating class. He had seen her across the bar. She was laughing. Her face exuded mirth, shoulders and head thrown back, hair wild and loose. She had her hand on Shikamaru’s shoulder and then giggled into his neck as he shot her a grin. He watched as Tenten said something and Sakura slapped the table in boisterous laughter. She had never shown this side of herself to him—to Team 7. So he turned back and left for home.

Team 7 arrived at night.

Sakura could have completed it as a solo mission, but Tsunade wanted Team 7 to be able to seamlessly work together during missions. Even if the team was grossly over powered for the task at hand, the task itself was hardly the primary objective.

Sasuke would enter the lord’s bedroom with Sakura, cloaking them both in a genjutsu. Kakashi would watch from afar and notify them of any irregular guard movements through the comms device, and Naruto would serve as a distraction if things went awry.

Sakura and Sasuke entered the lord’s estate easily. They cast no shadow against the black and white marble tiles, and the quiet patter of their footsteps was masked under the genjutsu. As they entered the lord’s bedroom, they ignored the ostentatious displays of wealth—fur rugs covering the expanse of the room, ornate candelabras and chandeliers gilded with gold and encrusted with jewels—and went straight to the bed. Next to the sleeping lord, was a young woman holding herself in a fetal position, twitching in her sleep. Sakura quickly and untraceably killed the lord with a precise rush of chakra before tending to the young woman. Standing idly while Sakura completed the mission, Sasuke noticed the hardness of her eyes and the rigidity of her shoulders. Sakura’s glove clad hands were steady as they glowed green and she was done as quickly as she started. Locking eyes with Sasuke and curtly nodding, they left out the window.

They made camp once they breached Konoha’s borders. Several kilometers inwards, they settled for the night. Sakura was silent—not unusual for her, but her movements were stiff and mechanical as she put down her pack and built the fire.

Naruto and Kakashi came back with food they had caught. She ate her portion with glazed eyes, staring into the fire. She bit into the gamey meat without tasting it.

Her hands felt cold even as she held them to the camp fire and felt a heavy emptiness at her chest that permeated throughout her body. She thought of the Tsuchikage and Hokage’s actions robbing a form of justice away from the victims of the lord. Closing her eyes, she circled her arms around her shins and bowed her head to relieve some of the tension in her neck. Cradling herself, she opened her eyes to soften her gaze downwards.

Her toes were painted a light blue—Ino had insisted that it was the it color of the spring season and it would make her tan pop. Forehead, she had said seriously. For all the shit you did with shinobi and mental health you need to take care of yourself too. Sakura counted the pebbles in the dirt—one to ten, just as Ino had done for her while she painted her nails—and tracked the steady march of beetles over twigs and stones.

She saw splotches of dirt turn dark with moisture and absentmindedly realized she was crying.

She felt Sasuke’s disapproval as much as she heard it—straight to the chest, electricity and fire—and seethed at Naruto’s immediate defense. Trapped in the orbit of two celestial bodies—two gods—she wanted nothing more to break their trajectory towards her and suspend their collision.

“Have you ever felt like your body wasn’t your own,” she said. “That someone had ripped your soul from its shell and you could do nothing but watch.” Sakura’s eyes were blank and unseeing as her tears made trails down her cheeks.

Kakashi went rigid and Sasuke and Naruto mirrored faces of confusion. Sakura exhaled and continued, voice steady and clear. “Konoha and Iwagakure know about—have known about the lord for months and the only thing they care about is the financial windfall,” she said angrily. “Iwa won’t consider those women citizens and will just push them to go back to their original villages. Even if some of them disclose what the lord did to them—what is anyone going to do?” she questioned angrily. Voice rising she snarled, “What the fuck is Iwagakure going to do? Konoha?”

Surprised at the uncharacteristic outburst, her three teammates listened to her quietly. Cataloguing her rage and thinking over the implications their interference, the men of Team 7 considered her words.

Silence hanging over the air, Sakura began again. “How are those women supposed to reconcile the fact that they were just a thing to that fucking lord?” she spit out. “That he can act upon them and that’s where their value or depth ends?” No one had an answer for her. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being torn apart and my cells feel like they separate and I can feel my pulse in my fingertips,” she choked out, shoulders heaving. “What the fuck am I supposed to do then?”

Sasuke’s mouth opened slightly then clenched it shut. He saw red.

Kakashi stared blankly at Sakura. Feeling exhausted by the information, his shoulders drooped. The heavy burden of survival. He felt the prickly heat of guilt at the back of his neck and his eyes fell to Sakura’s pack on the ground next to her, unable to look her in the face. The dawning realization that he had never noticed anything different with her made him feel every year of his age.

He started to apologize. To say he wish he had been there for her more, that he should have tried to get her to spend more time with the three of them, that he should have said something about her pulling away from the team—that he should have known better.

“Sakura, I—”

“Don’t make this about you.”

Misplaced and unfounded guilt didn’t matter. To her, she was the student he had discarded and continued to ignore for years.

He hunched impossibly more.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Naruto said softly.

“Because I didn’t want to then.”

“I thought we were family?”

She scoffed, “Why?”

“We’re together again! Sasuke’s come back to us!”

“He came back to you. You never asked if I even wanted him here.” Sasuke jerked back as if she had hit him. His face remained stonily still despite the searing pain in his chest.

Looking at Sasuke she said, “I don’t care that you’re back. I’m glad you feel safe or that you have a home again, or whatever you feel. But you did shit to me that I will never forgive.”

“Tch, so we aren’t friends anymore?”

“Since when were we ever.”

It was fair, he reasoned. Although he was friendlier with Sakura than anyone else besides Naruto or Kakashi, his outward actions or words didn’t denote that he felt any particular fondness for her. Not enough to make up for all the things he had done to her. His throat closed and his eyes stung and not from overuse of his Sharingan.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” he blurted out and immediately regretted it.

“Who was it Sakura-chan? I’ll beat ‘em up—I-I’ll kill them!” Naruto raged.

“You think I couldn’t if I wanted to?” Sakura said wearily.

A cold breeze rustled through the forest, bringing with it the scent of moss and pine. For what seemed like a millennia, Team 7 was suspended in stillness. Gray eyes locked onto a well-worn pack, cerulean grounded himself in the limitless indigo sky, and red irises drowned in pink.

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke interrupted the silence. “I didn’t mean it that way. Or that you're weak," he glanced at her hunched form. "I’m sorry.”

Their journey back to Konoha was quiet. For once, Naruto was at a loss for words. Sasuke watched from the rear of their diamond position as Naruto snuck glances at Sakura to his left, but she never wavered. After the previous night, her face had been an impenetrable porcelain mask.

She had told them then, “We cry and we cope and we continue.” Her eyes had found Kakashi’s and he held them for a long minute before shifting his gaze uncomfortably towards the ground.

After the mission debrief, Sakura hung back to go over documents with Tsunade as the rest of Team 7 parted ways. Kakashi had immediately dispersed which left Naruto and Sasuke idly walking the packed dirt roads of the village.

Sea glass on twinkling wind chimes glinted green and blue as Sasuke and Naruto walked past vendor stalls. The warm breeze carried scents of fried food and sweets and the duo ignored the glances of awe and apprehension thrown their way.

Still mulling over the events of the previous night, Sasuke clenched his hands into fists. Across the street, sitting underneath the shade of a tree, Sai was painting the landscape around him. Pointing towards their other teammate, Naruto nudged Sasuke towards his direction.

Walking up the grassy hill towards Sai, Naruto sent him a halfhearted wave and tried to figure out how to ask Sai if he knew. If he knew what Sakura had been going through and how they could reel her back into Team 7. He rubbed the back of his head in frustration and fisted at the roots of his hair. Opening and closing his mouth several times while growing agitated, his eyes darted towards Sasuke then back to Sai as he struggled.

“Did Ugly finally tell you?” Sai asked, intently studying his painting. “And could you two move—you’re blocking my view.”

Finally finding his voice, Naruto exclaimed “We’ve been her teammates for years.”

“And yet she chose not to tell you,” Sai replied evenly.

“But w-why?” Naruto spluttered disbelievingly. “Why would she keep this a secret from us?”

“Because she did not think you could offer her any emotional comfort.”

Quietly, Naruto murmured, “Has she at least told Ino?”

Sasuke stared down at Sai. He thought he was aloof and detached with brief moments of social understanding, unfalteringly deadpan but unwaveringly steadfast. Sasuke and Sai had shared only a handful of greetings and exchanges, mostly nonverbal despite Naruto and Sai’s efforts and provocations. Sasuke had found his replacement irritating in his quiet observations and noted the way he and Sakura tended to gravitate towards each other during missions with thinly veiled contempt.

“The rest of your graduating class is aware.”

“How did I not know about this!?”

“She had you sent away on a mission when Tsunade informed them of her temporary release of duties.”

“Well, what about me?” Sasuke finally asked, feigning nonchalance despite his racing heartbeat.

“You were never a consideration.”

Sasuke jerked his head to the side and clenched his jaw, face settling into a scowl. He had wondered if with time, Sakura would look at him the way she used to when they were younger. Actually, he amended, he didn’t need for her to look at him with bright eyed adoration, cheeks flushing at any attention. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t need furtive glances thrown his way or delicately packed bento boxes. He wanted her acceptance—acknowledgement even, would have sufficed.

“What will you do now, Dickless?” Sai questioned.

“I’m gonna go to Tsunade baa-chan and force her to do something about this!”

“But did you ask Sakura what she wanted?”

“Huh?”

“Tch, dobe. You don’t even know what Sakura wants. She didn’t tell you because it’s just like you to do whatever your first thought is.”

“Precisely.” Packing away his supplies and shutting his sketchbook, Sai rose from his seated position. “Well,” he said with a fake smile, “this was fun.”

He watched as Naruto scrunched his face deep in thought and noted the quiet anger rolling off of Sasuke in waves. “I know this may be hard for you two,” Sai said cheerily, beginning to walk away, “but try not to impose yourselves further on the hag.” With one last wave, Sai walked leisurely back to the main road.

He had come to her apartment in the middle of the night. He had seen her open balcony, cream curtains billowing in the breeze, and hopped onto the ledge. Before he could wonder if he should have knocked on the front door, Sakura was in front of him.

“What.” She asked

He swallowed. His hands felt clammy.

“I’m sorry. For everything. I know it doesn’t mean much. But I mean it.”

She nodded. She went back into her apartment and left the glass door open, inviting him in. Shutting the door behind him and taking off his sandals, he looked around her living room. It was relatively spacious for just herself, light wood floors and neutral décor. Her side tables and bookshelves were crammed and overflowing with medical tomes and scrolls. Kunai and various weapons were littered on top of her coffee table along with notes and ink wells. Her living room opened up to a modest kitchen, where she currently stood towards the kettle.

“Do you want tea?” she asked, lifting two boxes to choose from.

Her hair was pulled into a braid down her back and she was wearing pajamas—clearly intending to sleep soon. He nodded at the box at her right and she took out two packets. Unsure of what to do, he hovered next to her coffee table until she came to sit at one end of the couch, sweeping a hand towards the armchair to the side and the other end of the couch.

He tentatively sat at the opposite end and clasped his hands in his lap. He nodded at the mug she handed him and stared into its contents. He felt a fever rush to his brain and felt a heavy cold settle in his bones as he attempted to parse through his emotions—sorrow, rage, guilt, shame, yearning. He could hardly name them for what they were, each overwhelming him like a tsunami wave, unrelenting and overlapping until all he felt was hurt ricocheting off his ribs and reverberating against his lungs.

“I’m sorry,” he bit out awkwardly. He intently analyzed her face and wondered why for all the things he felt, for all the things he wish he could articulate, all he could ever do was apologize. She sighed into her mug, the tendrils of steam making the fine hairs framing her face stick to her skin.

"I’ve forgiven you even when I don’t fucking want to—when my brain screams not to." With another deep exhale she rests her head on the cushions behind her and stares up at her ceiling.

“I’m sorry it happened,” he says quietly, fingers playing with the string of the teabag.

It’s something, Sasuke thinks to himself. They’re talking. For the first time, maybe ever. And he lets that little flicker of hope consume him. That maybe they can continue to talk. He’ll let her in, he’ll be vulnerable, he’ll apologize if she’ll just keep talking to him.

Sasuke and Naruto stood next to each other in the early morning quiet and unsure, facing the village gates. Kakashi was behind them, hands deep in his pockets, hunched over as if trying to make himself smaller. Looking at Naruto, the village to his back, Sakura watched as he fidgeted in uncharacteristic silence.

Surprisingly, it was Kakashi who began to speak. Raising his eyes towards Sakura, he began to apologize.

It had been weeks since Sasuke had shared tea with Sakura, talking through the years he had missed, actually learning who she was as a person. During that night, he was able to indulge in the fantasies he had been harboring for months—the desire to talk to someone like family—to someone who is family. To divulge in past memories and future hopes. The start of sealing the cracks he had left and wedged open.

But now, he watches as she grips Naruto in a tight hug, whispering fiercely into his ear as he shakes in her arms. She shares sweet goodbyes with her friends who look at her with pride and tell her to bend the world to her will because they’ll always be waiting. A curt nod and a squeeze of the forearm and Sasuke watches her back and wonders if her heart shattered the same way when he had left her all those years ago.

At the time, she had told him that she would go with him—that she would shoulder his pain if she could. But now? He supposes this is payment for all the times he ripped her heart from her chest. It would have been merciful, he thinks, if she could have knocked him out unconscious so he didn’t have to be the one to watch her back as she became a distant pinprick in the horizon.

#sasusaku #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #naruto fanfiction #sasusaku fanfiction #sasuke x sakura #sakura fanfiction

76 notes · View notes

aslitheryprinx · 3 years

Text

Kinda slight discourse under the cut? Nothing super controversial I don't think, just some stuff that's been bothering me about tags.

Dunno why I've been thinking about this recently, but does anyone else find it weird that it's expected for blogs to tag for other people's convenience?

I'm not talking about trigger warnings and actually important things like that. Those should absolutely be tagged if it could hurt someone else, and I have zero problem with that (I think it's extremely important to do actually.)

I also don't mean tagging stuff in the wrong categories, that's beneficial for everyone and it's just being annoying if you tag things as something they're not.

What I mean is when people ask for very specific things to be tagged. Not because they're something that could trigger or distress people, but because they personally don't like it.

Like if someone is primarily a blog about crafting stuffed animals and someone sends an anon ask like "uh hey could you please tag when you talk about fabric? I don't like seeing it on my dash." Or even if someone just has an interest in something. Maybe... figure skating. And someone requests the blog to tag every post they make being excited about figure skating specifically so they can block it?

Things like that annoy me. I haven't seen it much, but just little things here and there. What happened to the energy of Tumblr that's "oh I follow this person for Harry Potter content. Sometimes I get a random splash of marvel because of them lol."

If somebody's interest is annoying enough to you that you feel the need to completely block it, why are you following them in the first place? If you don't want to see me talk about plain old minecraft sometimes, either don't follow me or put up with it. I will not be tagging every post I make that has something to do with the game as minecraft (or a variation so it doesn't end up in the main tag) just because a single person decided they don't like it.

That situation hasn't happened to me, it's just an example, but I've seen similar things happen. And this definitely isn't throwing shade at the people who do tag requests like that. I think those people are really cool and accommodating to make those tags for specific individuals. I just think asking for those sort of tags is rude in the first place.

I don't think people are doing it intentionally, so if you've asked for a tag like that before I'm not saying you're an asshole or a bad person. I just think it's a bit of a weird thing to ask. It's definitely putting your own convenience far above the blog owner's, more of just a thoughtless thing than anything.

Just... Absolutely ask for tags if there's triggering content, but if it's just something that's a pet peeve? Don't automatically put your annoyance as the top priority for a blog you follow.

#rant #tw discourse #sort of

9 notes · View notes

craftypeaceturtle · 3 years

Text

A is for Arrival...?

Summary: Remus and Janus are shopping ready for the new arrival for their family.

Note: The start of an AU and series because I’m just a sucker for any type of familiar sides. Romantic Demus and Royality.

Next Part: B is for Baby Time

“Hey Jay?” Remus suddenly stopped; his eyes enormous.

“Yes, dear?” Janus put on a dramatic Victorian tone, his spine straightening with his hand frozen poised with the packet of washing up sponges.

“Do we need to get birthday stuff?” Janus immediately scrunched his face, “No wait! Listen. You celebrate your kid’s birthday every year so surely you celebrate his first ever one ever. Right?”

Janus stared into the distance as he dropped the sponges on the floor, “Call your brother.”

“No,” Remus whined but still pulled up his phone and promptly shoved it into Janus’ chest, “He’ll only make fun of me if I ask it. If you ask it, then maybe he’ll presume he’s the stupid!”

“Did he celebrate Logan’s first ever ever birthday? What would you even call it? First day of existence?” Janus frowned as he speed dialled the number.

“If he did, he didn’t invite me!” Remus shrugged before picking up the sponges. He immediately crowded into Janus and smooshed himself into his shoulder.

They picked up on the second ring, Patton’s sigh answering. Something that they probably weren’t supposed to hear. “Hello Roman. We just have a quick question,” Janus chirped.

“Hey Janus. It’s Patton by the way. Wow, another question, huh?” Patton, meanwhile, gave Roman a stern look and thrusted the phone at him again. Roman pulled a face as he shrugged and ducked back down behind the sofa. Frowning, he put it on speaker so they could both suffer, “What did you want to ask?”

“Should we celebrate our baby’s first ever day? Like a birthday but for their very very first birthday?”

“What!” Roman shrieked before leaping back on to the sofa; ever so suddenly finding the strength to talk.

“What do you mean ‘what’! God, he’s such a douche,” Remus muttered.

“I’m a douche, oh am I? Why would you celebrate a baby’s first ever day. It’s their first ever day in this world! They get overwhelmed and scared so easily. It’s a big scary world out there and you’re going to shove a party in their face! The baby is barely old enough to move it’s own hands! It’s a baby!” Roman complained while Patton giggled.

“To treat this seriously for a second, when you finally get your baby, the very last thing you want to do is mess around too much. After all this time, all that waiting, you finally get this tiny fragile baby. A tiny itty bitty baby. All you’ll want to do is just sit there and watch them quietly. A party is the last thing you’ll think to do. Heh, me and Roman even forgot to eat that day and only remembered hours later,” Patton spoke softly with his own memories uplifting his annoyance. Roman smiled and knocked their shoulders together.

“...So is it worth buying like finger food in case we forget to eat?” Remus interrupted.

“Uh... yeah? I mean, yeah that would work,” Roman fumbled.

“Okay. Cheers. Bye!” Remus called out while Janus rolled his eyes, “Wow. We really need to get them something for putting up with all this.”

“Well I’m going to keep talking to them, you weirdo.” Janus ran his hand through Remus’ crazed curls but he was quickly shrugged off as Remus went to evaluate which bleach was best for their toilet, “How are you two?”

“Yeah, all’s good here! Just your typical day, what are you doing?” Patton chirped.

“Baby shopping mixed with some normal shopping. Extremely exciting, I’m sure you’re jealous,” Janus felt his voice go soft at just the mere mention of his coming baby.

“Aww! That’s so sweet,” Patton sighed, “I miss that so much about Logie. Baby clothes shopping is the only reason worth becoming a dad.”

“Oh Pat! Such slander, I’m impressed,” Janus laughed.

“Oh hush! Everyone knows that baby clothes are the best cutest things in existence. Aw, are you going to buy Halloween clothes! Me and Roman saw some adorable skeleton onesies today and I came this close to buying it for the baby.”

“Yeah, I think at this point we’ve bought him more Halloween clothes than normal baby stuff. That’s the whole reason we still have to do some shopping. There were these pumpkin shoes and socks. Oh Pat! I swear if I wasn’t so macho and cool, I would’ve cried. Baby shoes are just so tiny!” Remus raised a brow at his squealing voice. But then he also knew exactly what Janus was talking about just from his tone alone. Those shoes were actually pretty cute.

“They are right! Aw, do you know any more about the baby?”

“Well...” Janus drawled while Remus took a breath. They agreed that Janus was going to deal with this breaking news.

“We met up with the mother yesterday.”

“Oh! My! Oh! Oh, Jayjay! That’s amazing! How was she?” Remus quickly snatched the phone and flicked it to speaker. Janus raised a brow at him but he was only met with the most mischievous smirk back. He frowned but turned back to continue talking only now with Patton’s voice squeaking out across the aisle.

“She looked exhausted. I felt so bad for her. Meeting up for a coffee looked like the very last thing she wanted to do,” Remus said.

“Bless her,” Janus sighed, “She was lovely.”

“Aw, that’s good. We never really got to meet our surrogate, how come yours wanted to meet?”

“Well, she apparently had a bit of a health scare. All is good! Everything is all good! But she just wanted to sit down with us and actually go through everything that happened. So we sat and talked about the health of the baby. Again, all is good obviously. But... so... we may or may not have found out our baby’s gender,” Janus winced once the squeal erupted over the phone. Remus cackled at the amount of people who turned to look at them with dirty looks before he turned the speaker off again. Ah, yes wouldn’t be a trip to the shops if Remus couldn’t spread some mild chaos.

“What’s their gender!” Patton screamed before launching up from the sofa. Roman was giggling as Patton jumped up and down and spun him around.

“We’re having a boy!” Janus smiled. He would deny the glow in his chest for this rest of his life but he couldn’t help but grab Remus’ hand. Remus smiled, thankfully, and squeezed his hand with his own lovesick smile. Their baby boy.

“Oh a boy!” Patton squealed high enough for dogs.

“Typical, not one girl in this entire family,” Roman chuckled.

“Oh congrats guys! When’s the due date again?” Patton sighed.

“10th of December. I almost feel bad for the boy. He’s going to have to put up with the whole Christmas birthday combination.”

“I’m still upset that he wasn’t a Halloween baby,” Remus frowned.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Janus finally hung up. They were still holding hands- they would look exactly like a couple from a lovey film if they actually dressed like normal people rather than Disney villains. All they needed to do now grab was some more normal baby outfits. A very simple easy task. Just look at some clothes and chose some cute functional clothes.

But every single time... every single time, they would find the most abnormal baby outfits possible. That and they always spent a good ten solid minutes of staring at the tiny shoes. They looked like build-a-bear shoes. They didn’t even look real.

“I can’t wait until he arrives,” Remus mumbled as he picked up a hideous orange dinosaur patterned jumper set. Janus tried to hide the smile but he quickly placed his head on his shoulder as they stood there.

“Neither can I. He can’t come soon enough. Just like how you can’t put back that gross set soon enough.”

“You don’t like it! I think it’s cute.” Remus tilted his head as if that made it cuter.

“He’s so not going to be an orange baby.”

“You don’t know that! Does he even need a colour?”

“You’ve got green, I like yellow. He also needs a colour. While we can still have control over what he wears at least,” Janus stated like Remus was a toddler trying to argue that the sky was green.

“So we both have our ugly colours. Then he also needs an ugly colour too! Orange is a disgusting colour!” Remus thrusted the jumper in his face.

“Oh totally exactly, dear,” Janus rolled his eyes before he then felt the passion erupt from him, “Okay. Firstly, for your information, yellow is a beautiful colour thank you very much. You’re the one that chose the grossest colour of green to embrace. He can have purple,” Janus winced as he guided Remus’ hand back down to the shelf.

“Purple?”

“Yes. A beautiful colour. Not only does it screw over superfluous ridiculous gender roles, it also is close enough to match our dress senses,” Janus stated with a proud look. Remus opened his mouth but then snapping it shut with a respectful nod. Yep, that sounded like a plan.

They eventually found some normal tiny eeny weeny pair of jeans and they used all of their collective strength to stay clear of all the Halloween clothes and bought some presentable jumpers. Janus was finally starting to get fed up with standing around in a shop before he realised that Remus’ eyes kept flicking to a shelf behind them.

He never made any move to actually go look at whatever it was and he never mentioned it. Janus found every reason to keep looking at the same pairs of stripey socks to give him time but he still said nothing. It was so uncommon that Remus felt shy about suggesting something. What could be the harm? “What you looking at?” Janus asked while exaggeratedly turning around.

“Um... I just noticed...” Remus drawled off. It was just a discount shelf. It was stacked with just random broken items that clearly no one ever take any interest in. Remus shyly sulked up to it and pushed aside the chipped mugs and torn notebooks without any hesitation. He pulled up a baby blanket.

It was the exact same incredibly soft material all baby stuff was made from. The stuff where your hand magnetised to its softness. It was a quilted baby blanket in a pastel lilac. It was cute but it wouldn’t be on a discounted shelf without reason. There was a large smudge of black marker on its corner. But as Remus held it up, Janus laughed. It wasn’t quilted. It was sewn to be a spider web pattern around the blanket. Clearly an old Halloween gimmick.

He turned to ask if Remus was all ready to go then and was immediately punched in the stomach. Remus was all teary eyed and awkwardly looking anywhere but him. His fingers brushed through the blanket over and over again.

“Oh Reem,” Janus cooed and tugged the blanket from his grasp but he didn’t let go.

“I don’t even know why I’m tearing up!” Remus pressed his arms against his face. Janus felt himself tearing up as well. Something about how Remus’ voice would go all wobbly and pitchy when he was on the edge of tears just always got to him, “Just... oh this is so fucking stupid.”

“Well you’ve got us both crying in a shop at 9 in the morning. I’d say it sounds pretty dumb,” Janus smiled.

“Just... he could be our little spider. Just like how I’m your octopus and you’re my snake,” Remus’ voice was practically crumbling away. Janus felt a disgusting childish tear slip down his face.

“Oh Reem.” Janus hugged him, only so he didn’t have to experience the embarrassment of people seeing his husband’s gross taste in blankets of course.

“How much spider stuff have we bought him! Like that would be perfect. And this is purple and spider!” Remus felt a tear escape his control too but he just buried his nose in Janus’ hair.

“Oh you are such a nightmare of a husband. I’m taking you back to the husband shop and refunding you,” Janus groaned, he broke away and snatched the blanket from his grasp and shoved it into their trolley. At least it was cheap. Plus they would probably end up staining it with gross new born baby vomit anyway.

#My writing #sanders sides #deceit sanders #Janus Sanders #remus sanders #fluffy #fanfic #roman sanders #patton sanders #demus #royality

26 notes · View notes

nanoland · 3 years

Text

title: Compass Rose

series: Lucifer (TV)

pairings: Mazikeen/Eve

summary: In which Mazikeen exercises her renowned patience.

warnings: Lucifer is kind of a dick in this. Not intentionally; he’s just young and colossally self-centered.

Also on Ao3!

“You. Demon. What’s your name?” asks the Morningstar, looking bored and depressed, as usual.

She straightens up, brimming with nerves and excitement, feeling her acidic blood bubble happily because he’s so handsome! And he’s talking to her! Her siblings will shriek with jealousy when they hear of this. “Mazikeen, my liege.”

“Mazikeen,” he repeats, mispronouncing it. “Great. Maze, do something about… all that, would you? It’s dreadfully grating.”

He gestures to the sea of damned, miserable human souls milling around the base of his throne, calling up to him for help or mercy.

“Yes, my liege,” she says, her bright mind already hard at work planning the next few millennia of punishment.

“Maze, is there a letter from Amenadiel?”

Mazikeen is now four hundred years old and in all that time, not a single letter has arrived in Hell, from Amenadiel or anyone else. Regardless, her handsome king asks every week.

It’s fine. She’s far too mature and cunning to feel even the slightest scrap of envy towards some pompous old angel she’s never even met, regardless of how obviously Lucifer loves him.

Regardless of how obvious it is that he loves no one in Hell half as much.

“No, my liege.”

“Hmm. Fine. Whatever. Fuck him, then. Brothers – who needs ‘em?”

She nods. She herself has many, many brothers, and sisters, and siblings who are neither or both, and she certainly doesn’t need them.

(Sometimes she longs for them, especially when she’s weary from the years and years dedicated to building and securing Lucifer’s kingdom, but she never needs. Needing is for the weak.)

It occurs to her that that king might be cheered by stories of Tradiusis, her most treasured and most useless brother, who is prone to chatting with the damned and asking them about all the silly human indulgences they enjoyed in life, like movies and theme parks and hot dogs. Fool that he is, the mere thought of him always brings a smile to her face.

But she decides against it, suspecting that if she were to begin telling Lucifer about her family, he’d get that same dull, faintly irritated expression she sees every time she reads him a report about the number of new arrivals and how various parts of Hell will need to be restructured to accommodate them all.

(She wonders what will happen when Hell is full – does he have a plan? Is she expected to have a plan?)

(How long, exactly, are they supposed to keep doing this?)

(Surely this can’t be all they were made for?)

“Maze, get me a drink, would you?”

Mazikeen is Lucifer’s right hand, his bodyguard, the highest-ranked demon in Hell, named the Lady of Pain, the Whirlwind, and the Blood Dancer by her peers and underlings.

Pouring drinks is… new to her.

But this is what he wants; this club, this loud music, these inebriated humans constantly demanding attention and entertainment, constantly needing to be managed. And he’s her king.

She pours him his drink and listens to him play the piano, until some wretch attempts to grope her and loses two fingers.

Running a nightclub is, it turns out, complicated.

There are all sorts of rules and regulations regarding what can and cannot be done inside it.

At one point, Lucifer decides it would be fun to have white tigers roaming the dance floor. After a few days spent looking into that option, she has to explain that they may to have settle for waitresses dressed as tigers. He pouts like it’s her fault and goes back to the piano.

She’s also not allowed to kill anyone, which is, honestly, ridiculous. Mazikeen is an ancient being, a warrior nigh unparalleled, with centuries of experience contending with the worst the human race has to offer, and every single night she endures treatment from at least one of Lucifer’s guests that, even to her vast, reasonable, and patient mind, clearly warrants swift annihilation.

If murder is, indeed, illegal, how do all the mortal women in this city who serve drinks cope?

“You block it out, I guess,” says Suzy, a waitress with thick red hair and tired eyes, after Mazikeen has had to save her yet again from a patron with wandering hands (and now broken hands). “You know, just… don’t let it get to you. Grow a thick skin.”

Mazikeen considers the half of her body that has no skin whatsoever and snickers inappropriately. Then she gifts Suzy one of her knives.

Chloe gasps. “Maze! No! Absolutely not!”

“Why?” she asks, annoyed but also genuinely curious.

“I can’t just torture a suspect to get information, Maze. It’s wrong.”

Mazikeen considers saying: You already torture people. You lock them up in tiny boxes until their minds break and their lives are utterly ruined. How is that different? I don’t understand.

Mazikeen considers saying: You let Lucifer violate peoples’ innermost selves to obtain information. How is that better? I don’t understand.

Mazikeen considers saying: I don’t want to be good. I don’t care about being good. So why do I seem to put so much more thought into how to be good than you do? I don’t understand, I don’t, I don’t.

Instead, Mazikeen rolls her eyes and says nothing.

“Maze! No! What were you thinking?” cries Linda, rushing over to the cradle. “You can’t give that to a baby!”

She snatches away Mazikeen’s present; a blade, small and silver, just right for tiny hands, the same blade Mazikeen herself received from her favourite sister on her fourth birthday. It has tasted the blood of over a hundred enemies.

Charlie starts to cry and Linda puts the blade aside so she can pick him up and comfort him.

“Children need to be able to protect themselves,” Mazikeen insists.

“No, Maze. Children need to be protected.”

“No one protected me.”

Linda doesn’t say: Exactly. Why would I want my son to be anything like you?

Because Linda is kind.

But Mazikeen is perceptive and she sees it in her friend’s eyes all the same.

“So then, then it turns out that Jon Snow is actually Daenarys Targaryen’s cousin, right, which makes him – oh no! – a rival contender for the Iron Throne, and…”

“Ugh,” Mazikeen groans, cutting Ella off. “I thought this was a show about dragons! Why does it waste so much time on people either fucking or killing their relatives?”

She laughs at Mazikeen’s exaggerated annoyance. “It’s not just about dragons. There’s a lot of stuff about politics and war and, yeah, fucked-up family dynamics. Honestly, that’s one of the reasons it grips me so much. My own family’s always got a ton of drama going on, too. I mean – no incest. Not that I’m aware of. But you know all about my brothers.”

Mazikeen is about to ask what the dragons look like – whether the show’s version bears any resemblance to the beasts she’s ridden into battle – when Ella tilts her head sideways and squints at her. “Huh. Now that I think about it… I’ve told you all about my brothers but I’ve never asked anything about your family. That was shitty of me! Can I ask now? Or is it, like, one of those things you don’t talk about? Like where you’re from and how you met Lucifer?”

Fiddling with a lock of her hair – it’s straight and black today – Mazikeen says, “I don’t mind talking about it. Just… most people don’t care.”

Ella frowns, briefly (cutely, curse her). “Well, I wanna know! You got any brothers?”

“Yeah.”

“How many?”

“A lot. I’m not actually sure exactly how many there are now.”

“Oh, right. Gotcha. Are you close to any of them?”

“Not these days. But when we were young, we were pretty tight-knit. Didn’t really have anyone besides each other.”

Ella asks her more questions and though she has to keep her answers extremely vague, Mazikeen finds that she likes talking about her home and her childhood. Prolonged exposure to the human world has begun to make her feel insubstantial; a tool, a disguise, a thing without roots or history. Lucifer’s been no help with that, for he’s only ever known her as his servant (and, sometimes, when he’s in a good mood, his friend, by virtue of the fact that friendship with someone who works for you – who can do nothing but work for you – requires no tedious emotional labour whatsoever).

It’s nice to remember that she has, in fact, been other things. That she could, perhaps, be other things in the future.

“So,” Dan slurs, hunched over his beer. “You got whores… hordes… horns? Thought demons had horns.”

She’s busy applying a fresh coat of candy-pink lipstick to match her powder-blue bob. “Some do. I don’t.”

“Well, that sucks. That’s not fair! You deserve horns. You’re cool, Maze.”

Because that provokes a twinge of genuine affection, she says, “Wanna see what I have got?”

“Hell, yeah!”

He grins drunkenly.

“You need to promise not to scream.”

“Oh – oh, man, is it scary? Is it gross?”

She shows him her true face.

After a moment of owlish blinking, he shrugs and returns to his beer. “Eh. S’not that gross. Lucifer’s grosser. Wanna play pool?”

Amenadiel presents her with a beautiful black sheath. “I crafted it from my own feathers. It will keep the blade contained until he’s old enough to wield it safely.”

She slides Charlie’s knife into it. “Someone will need to teach him.”

“Who taught you?”

“Me? No one. They just threw us at one another and clapped for whoever survived. But… well. He’s not like me, is he?”

The angel places the sheathed blade down beside Charlie’s stuffed rabbit and plastic truck. “Maybe not now. With any luck, that will change.”

“Ma-aaze,” Lucifer groans, flopping back in his armchair with his long legs artfully folded and his hand over his eyes. “I’ve had such a tiresome morning. Pour me a drink, would you?”

“Pour it your damn self,” she suggests, standing on his penthouse’s balcony and admiring the view. His throne in Hell was about as tall as this building. From up here, all the little people down below look exactly the same.

He pouts and fetches a glass – and, to her surprise, one for her as well.

Mazikeen brings an abrupt, efficient end to the bar fight by slamming her palm into an assailant’s solar plexus.

He drops like a ton of bricks, joining the pile of groaning men, broken furniture, and smashed bottles. (Shit; it’s going to take ages to clean all this up. If Lucifer didn’t have infinite money, Lux would have gone bankrupt eight times by now.)

She turns to see Eve staring at her, beautiful mouth hanging open, and braces herself for the “Maze! No!”.

“That was so cool,” Eve breathes, and rushes over to leap into Mazikeen’s arms, only to draw back at the last second. “Oh no! You’re hurt!”

There is, indeed, a small cut on Mazikeen’s left hand.

“Don’t care, doesn’t matter,” says Mazikeen, reaching for her, wanting badly to be kissed.

But Eve drags her into a quiet back room where she applies disinfectant and bandaids with cartoon cats on them.

“I really wanna learn how you did that thing with your elbow,” she chatters, wiping away a few spots of blood with a white handkerchief. “The way his nose just went crunch! – man, it was fantastic.”

“I can teach you. If you like.”

Eve’s dark eyes are fond. “You’re always offering to do something for me – to teach me how to fight, or to carry something, or to protect me. It’s… like, I love it. But you know you don’t have to, right?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I wanna do stuff for you sometimes. Oh! That reminds me. Lucifer was going to take Chloe to a wrestling match but then they had another fight and he’s back to being sad, sooo I stole the tickets out of his jacket. Wanna go?”

“I love you,” says Mazikeen, even though she’s said it five times today. She likes the way it sounds in her mouth. She likes the way it makes Eve’s whole face sparkle.

“I love you too, babe.”

#mazikeen #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #eve #chloe decker #dan espinoza #linda martin #ella lopez #my fic

7 notes · View notes

peachiekoo · 4 years

Text

One Beep || JJK

“I think it’s unfair that we can’t do anything about what our heart want.”

⇢ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader ⇢ Genre: Angst; Fluff; Romance ⇢ Warning(s): Hints of divorce, slight flashbacks to dark past moments, denialism at certain points ⇢ Word Count: 2.04K ⇢ Posted: April 10, 2020 ⇢ A/n: Hey, so I made a fic based off of a show I’ve watched recently called “Love Alarm”. It has since became one of my favorite k-dramas! I’m extremely happy that this idea suddenly came to me. (I deadass don’t think I’ve ever been this hyped to write a fic) I hope you guys enjoy and also there might grammar mistakes which I sincerely apologize for!

Everything that happened was an accident actually.

Maybe everything would’ve been fine if you only went to class at least a good two minutes later. All of it could’ve been avoided if you weren’t trying to go run an errand for a friend. But then again, who knows?

It was a Monday morning at exactly 7:50 am when you got a text from one of your closest childhood friends, Chaeyoung.

[7:50 am] Chae🍊: bubs,, where r u??

[7:50 am] You: studying in the library

[7:52 am] You: why?

[8:01 am] Chae🍊: do you think you could drop off my paper to ms.eve? i left it in your bag

[8:01 am] You: rn?

[8:03 am] Chae🍊: I mean,,, I would appreciate if you did

[8:03 am] Chae🍊: <3

You sighed and rolled your eyes. Classic Chae move, you thought to yourself. You closed the book you had checked out beforehand as you neatly placed it in your bag before you looked for her paper.

Finally, finding the paper slightly wrinkled, you made your way to the exit. You decided to take the shorter way than the usual way since you wanted to quickly get back to studying again before heading towards your next class.

While walking, you were busying yourself with your phone. Looking at a few unread messages and scrolling on twitter before you heard a group of people discussing a new app.

It wasn’t your intention to eavesdrop but something one of them mentioned was an app that could tell if someone had a crush on anyone in a 10-meter radius.

“Unbelievable,” you scoffed quietly.

You continued walking past them as you decided to search up about it when you were recommended an app, LoveBeep. You chuckled at it. Do people really believe this? From the app details it’s popular at the moment. Are people just that gullible.

You were so engrossed by the app that you didn’t even see the tall figure in front of you. “Sorry! I-” Your sentence stops in the tip of your tongue when you realize who it is. He reaches a hand out for you without even throwing a second glance at you.

It was Jeon Jungkook. You two were never once friends but you shared a few good past memories together as your mom used to babysit him every once in awhile growing up. Now he probably wants nothing to do with you.

You felt your heart race in anxiousness. You quickly grabbed his hand and pulled yourself up before dusting yourself off and heading towards the main reason you were on the floor anyways.

You suddenly stopped though. You turned on your heels before gently tapping him on the shoulders. He looked at you with an annoyed look shadowing over his face.

“I’m sorry.” you sputtered.

All you heard was an annoyed sigh before he faced all the way towards you. He glared down at you. You felt as if you were shrinking, both mentally and physically. You watch him softly chuckling before he turned his gaze back to you.

“I don’t want your dirty ass apology, Y/n. Your mom has already enough,” He spits. “Why are you apologizing for what your mom did? Did you have any part in it? You pity me don’t you.”

You took a few steps back unconsciously before he grabbed your arm and pulled you close. He placed his mouth over your ear. “The fact that you constantly try to fix your mom’s dirty deeds is annoying. She should be able to feel the pain that she’s given others.”

Your eyes water at that for yet, he wasn’t wrong. She did bad things, but that didn’t make her a bad person. You pushed the boy off of you with resentment in your gaze.

It was silent for a moment before your voice broke it. “You know nothing. Nothing at all. You think you got it all figured out don’t you,” you hissed. “Don’t you!” you raved.

You felt the burning tears sliding down your cheeks. “I’ve tried so hard to be generous to you. Do you think I wanted things to be like this? Do you think you’re the only going through things?” you declared. “Go to hell, Jeon!” you shouted before storming off.

Finally, dropping the papers off, you continued on with the rest of your day. Doing your very best to avoid the brown-haired boy at all costs.

It was a late night, you were bundled under your covers. You looked across the room to see a Chaeyoung peacefully asleep in her own bed. You sighed as you rolled into another position so you could finally go to sleep but it seemed nearly impossible no matter how hard you tried.

You looked over at your phone and you remembered that ridiculous app from earlier. You grabbed it from the nightstand before typing the name into the app store before downloading

Once it was finished downloading, you inspect med the app. The first thing to pop up was a loading screen that displayed tips about the app. Once it finished loading you were introduced to a welcome sign before it faded out into 3 rings with a zero in the middle of them.

It seemed fake. Like an app, a seven-year-old girl would download to try to find her imaginary prince charming. Nevertheless, it still intrigued you. You stayed up the rest of the night trying to find out more about before you crashed around 4 am.

A few months later, it finally starting to begin spring. The incident with Jeon is far in the back of year head as you sit on the bench and enjoy the warm air and the few blows of cool air surrounding you as you took a considerable bite out of your apple, listening to Chaeyoung as she rants about her latest “life problems”.

You feel content for the first time in a while. You feel in your gut it won’t last for long though. You inhale a deep breath to just take the moment in. You let your eyes flutter closed for a second, reassuring Chaeyoung that you’re still listening to her.

Suddenly you hear your phone beep. You look at the notification to see from LoveBeep, saying exactly, “Someone in a 10-meter radius loves you”. You were just about to put your phone back since it wasn’t like it was the first time it had beeped before but you had felt a certain urge to look up.

You looked up to see Jungkook walking past you with a friend. You were just about to ignore the occurrence when you realize, he was, in fact, within a 10-meter radius when your phone buzzed. You felt your cheeks tingling at that.

No, it wasn’t him. It can’t be him. You convinced yourself. You’re in a school, there are tons of other students within a 10-meter radius of you. He was also walking with a friend meaning it could’ve been him.

The incident could’ve been easily ignored if for the past few passing you had with him within the last month didn’t result in your phone beeping. Every. Single. Time.

You kept trying to ascertain that it was another reason for this but what really got you was when you were in art class early, drawing a few sketches to waste time. You had felt your phone vibrate as you got other notification from LoveBeep. You had heard the door open before you turned your attention over to where the sound was made.

It had fully hit you. Jungkook is the one beeping you.

You were currently waiting by the exit of the school since Chae was taking way more longer than expected oddly since it was normally you that was always late.

The majority of the students had already left school, only a few people walking around which you assumed was for the after school clubs. You decided on going into the school to go find her when you saw the boy down the hall.

“Jungkook, we need to talk,” you said as you walked up to him. You felt your phone vibrate again in your pocket before you let out a sigh.

“What?” he asked nonchalantly. He looked up at you like you were, in fact, wasting his time.

You tilted your head at him slightly look at him straight in his eyes. You just wanted to get it over with.

How can he act so damn rude yet still have feeling for you? Seems kinda fucked up.

“Listen, I don’t wanna be here just as much as you,” you smirked at him. “I know you like me, Jeon.” All you heard in reply was bluff of air coming through his sealed lips.

He rebuked, “What in the actual fuck are you talking about? You genuinely think I out of all fucking people would like you?”

Annoyed, you pulled out your phone and went directly Into the app.

“Then what is this?”

“An app.”

“What app jackass.”

“LoveBeep obviously.”

“Okay, and what does it say.”

“I’m not reading that you can do it yourself.”

You groaned in annoyance. “Are you just that fucking difficult?” You shot the phone right in his face. “You like me.” You disputed

“You’re gonna believe an app?” he yapped through tight lips. An obvious thick tension in the air had you fidgeting with your school skirt. The reality of it hit you.

This dickhead, the one who is steadily hateful towards you. The one who you once were close with. Yet, he is someone who had a full reason to hate. Not hurting any less though.

You hated him. But you loved him. Not in the cheesy ‘I’m in love with my enemy’ type of way. But the ‘You and me against the world’ type of way. A platonic love that was now one-sided from something which you strictly blame on yourself no matter how many times you tell yourself otherwise.

Your mood suddenly turning more sour at the realization, you mutter out a barely audible “Why?” before keeping your gaze with his eyes.

“You are so sick and twisted. I know she fucked up everything but you just let it out on me and then when I feel like I did it you have then you yell at me about why am I trying to fix shit that I didn’t do. It’s because of you!” you exploded.

Not stopping there, you step to up still maintaining the connected glare as you continue on. “Then you have the fucking audacity to like me? What the fuck is wrong with you.” You wept, your emotions finally overpowering you. You were so filled with anger but it was useless because there was nothing you could do about it. “It’s so unfair you can live your life like this while I’m just here.” you ended.

“Live my life like this? My parents aren’t even in the same fucking country because of her and you think your life is tough because I developed unwanted feelings for you?” He argued.

Anger flurrying through you, your arm flung at him involuntarily, slapping him in the process. “You don’t know everything!” you screeched tear stains down your cheeks before storming off.

As you were walking off, you heard him yell out to you causing you to stop. “I think it’s unfair that we can’t do anything about what our heart wants,” You heard him let out an emotionless chuckle. “If we could do you think I would like someone as low as you?” he deadpanned before listening to his footsteps walk off.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.” you gritted out before continuing on. Deciding on going home, you decided to text Chaeyoung ahead of time.

[4:51 pm] You: im gonna walk home early

[4:51 pm] Chae🍊: ? did something happen :(

[4:55 pm] Chae🍊: y/n???

[4:56 pm] You: can we talk about it later please

[4;56 pm] Chae🍊: ofc bubs

[4;57 pm] Chae🍊: do you want me to order your favorite takeout when i get home?

[4:57 pm] You: yes pls

And that was the last time you had any interaction with Jungkook.

a/n: I hope you enjoy this series!

340 notes · View notes

bffsoobin · 4 years

Text

01|02

↳ when your beloved throwing team finds itself lacking on equipment within a school that claims to value athletics, you take it upon yourself to find the right person to remedy your problems. little did you know, the right person would be perpetually busy and you would be stuck trying to barter with one of his friends. how long will it take for you to convince Beomgyu that your team is just as important as his?

➤ highschool!au, thrower!reader x volleyball player!beomgyu, rich kid!beomgyu, fluff, very light angst, mentions of other members and members of BTS (go read @btxtreads sister series Perfectly Perfect!!!)

Word Count:1,777

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long! I hope you all enjoy it even though it’s been a hot minute since part one!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

You were staring daggers into the back of Beomgyu’s head. It was the end of a very long school day, and the sound of him complaining about how sore his arms felt from the game the night before lit hatred in your chest. You were still close to boiling over the blatant ignorance he had displayed toward you last night on the court. If you owned a burn book, Choi Beomgyu’s name would be at the top of every page.

All day, you had tried your best to forget his arrogance, but the fact that you spent so many hours of your school day sharing a classroom with him only made your annoyance tick upwards. The longer he spoke, the clearer it became that your emotions were seconds away from eruption. In the middle of an intense staredown with your history textbook, you heard your name.

“Right, Y/N?” Beomgyu was leaning toward you but not lifting himself out of his seat so that his ring of adoring classmates wouldn’t be in between the two of you.

“Huh?” Although you had missed what he said, you could only imagine what kind of annoyingly arrogant comment he was in the middle of making.

“I was just saying that even you came to support us last night. That was sweet of you!”

Your blood was boiling just under the surface of your skin, and the devil on your shoulder told you to let all of your anger loose on the boy right now; but the fact that so many of your peers were also listening in had you thinking twice.

“Oh, yeah, I was there. It was a good win, but too bad Yeonjun couldn’t keep himself together and had to sit out at the end. I’m sure your coach wasn’t too happy with all of that...” you watched the way his eyes had narrowed slightly, “trouble.” If there was anything you knew for sure about the men’s volleyball team, it was the fact that they held their teammates very close to their hearts. And after yesterday, you wanted to hit Beomgyu as close to the heart as you could.

Now, as you saw the subtle way his jaw shifted, you felt a tinge of regret. Maybe you’d gone too far, insulting one of his best friends. Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, the bell rang and a bustle of students began their exit from the school. Within the bustle, you made your way over to where Beomgyu was shoving notebooks into his bookbag.

“Hey. I’m sorry,” though his back was to you, you could sense his hesitance to accept your apology. “I didn’t think about how mean that would be. I really did enjoy watching the game though, even if we got into a sort of fight afterwards.”

You rocked back and forth on your feet as you waited for him to turn around. Once he did, there was no way to miss how intimidating his tall stature made him.

“Thanks for the apology,” you let out a sigh of relief at his acceptance but it stilled in your throat when you caught his blank expression. “Although I definitely wouldn’t call our talk a fight,” he began to walk out of the classroom and some magnetic force had you following him in lockstep. You hated the way you hung around and waited for the next words to fall from his lips. He was too captivating for his own good.

He slammed his locker shut. “After all, we have to be civil at our meeting tonight.” He leveled his gaze with you as he leaned casually against the metal and crossed his arms. Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, you knit your eyebrows together in confusion.

“A meeting? About what?” Much to your own annoyance, your voice gave away your utter confusion. Beomgyu smirked at your response and you knew he had secured some type of upper hand.

“Me, you and our coaches are meeting tonight. To talk about that funding you need?”

“What? Really?” The excitement of possibly getting funding won out over your need to convince Beomgyu he didn’t hold as much influence over you as he thought. As you celebrated, you thought you caught a glimpse of his mouth quirked upwards before he backed away to head toward the exit.

“Coach Jungkook’s office, 4 pm!”

——

Around 3:55 pm, you found yourself hovering outside of Coach Jungkook’s office. A small voice in the back of your mind had convinced you that you couldn’t walk in any earlier than 4 o’clock, so you settled for leaning against the wall and running through your mental list of needs for the team. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even register the sound of the door creaking open.

“Y/N,” your neck whipped around quickly to see Beomgyu holding the door open, staring down at you expectantly. “Were you...waiting out here this whole time?” You could hear the start of a laugh at the back of his words that made heat rush from your neck up to your hairline.

“Shut up, Choi,” you pushed past him, keeping your gaze on the carpeted floor until you saw the coaches come into view.

“Ah, there you are!” Jimin called out to you in lieu of an actual greeting. You wondered briefly if all three of the men were waiting for your arrival as you simply stood in the hall; but you cleared your throat and attempted to focus back on the task at hand. Jungkook’s office was extremely spacious and well decorated. The walls were plastered with photos of his beloved volleyball team from every year since he began coaching here. You even spotted some older pictures and trophies from the man’s own days on the team.

There were oddly comfortable looking armchairs located in front of his desk, one of which was already occupied by Beomgyu, who was spread out comfortably as if he owned the place. And truthfully, he probably did. Jungkook gave you an easy smile as you stood idle in the space between the empty chair and his desk before gesturing loosely.

“Go ahead, sit down!” His sunny disposition always threw you slightly off guard, especially after knowing the way he acts on the court. Nevertheless, you sank down into the inviting chair and tried your best to return his grin.

“So,” he continued, “Jimin told me you guys need a little funding help?” You felt three pairs of eyes drift to you, and suddenly the importance of helping your team began to outweigh your nerves as you began to explain your situation.

“And given the...extra boost the men’s volleyball team gets from Beomgyu’s family,” you scratched the back of your head gingerly as you glanced at the boy in question. “Coach and I thought you would be willing to help our team out.” Your heart was beating erratically in your chest as you waited for Jungkook to say anything.

“Well, I certainly think I can help you guys out. If you’re on the way to big competitions, I want you to have the best chance possible,” he slides open a drawer with ease and you can see Jimin’s eyes light up with excitement. Jungkook drops a sleek black checkbook onto the desk in front of him and nods Beomgyu’s way.

“Why don’t you take Y/N and show her around the trophy room while Jimin and I talk numbers?” The idea of being shown around the volleyball team’s trophy room would normally make you gag, but right now you’d do just about anything for Coach Jungkook. Beomgyu agreed easily and got up to leave so quickly that you had to sputter a poor “thank you” to the man saving your team’s skin before practically running out the door.

While the trophy room was located behind a normal door, the inside was excessively intricate. A fancy thermometer was set to an exact temperature to keep the expensive wooden shelves from warping under the weight of their wins. Beomgyu took an easy lap around the room before stopping in front of a ceiling tall glass case boasting an insanely tall golden trophy.

“This was from our nationals win last year. The winning game was so close that we played for what felt like three hours. Soobin played with an injured wrist and Taehyun had strep throat but we still managed to pull it off.” You wandered closer, genuinely interested in seeing such an expensive trophy up close. Once you stood in front of the case, you could really admire the careful engraving that shone underneath the small led lights that were embedded around the case. For some reason, you found yourself holding you breath, whether to avoid fogging up the glass or just from the proximity to Beomgyu, you weren’t sure. He was standing so close next to you that a single twitch of your wrist would have you grazing fingers.

“You guys are really good,” you didn’t turn your head to look toward him, but you caught part of his smiling reflection in the glass. “I mean it. As much as I shit on you guys, you’re really good at this.” You glanced sideways to see a genuine smile on his face that kicked your heart rate up.

“Thank you. We work hard. I think sometimes people forget that,” you swallowed hard, unable to avoid the thought that the statement included you.

“But I think we also forget that other people work hard for their sport.” A warmth spread through your body at his confession and you noticed the way the lights from the trophy case accentuated the sharpest features of his face. He licked his lips and your eyes tracked the movement eagerly. His cool eyes met yours just seconds after, and you prayed that you hadn’t been caught in the act of staring.

“That’s why I’m happy to be helping you out, Y/N. My team and I can be...closed off. Because we know we’re good and nobody bothers to humble us.” He hummed in thought for a second before laughing out loud. You raised an eyebrow in silent question of what was so funny. “Actually, I think you’re the first person who’s dared to try and humble me since I joined the team,” he had begun walking toward the door of the trophy room and you once again found yourself following without question.

He paused by the door, swinging it open and gesturing you to exit before him. “And honestly,” he shut the door with a resounding click. “I think it’s really cute.”

103 notes · View notes

lucyreviewcy · 3 years

Text

The Three Three Musketeers (or Where The F*ck Did All The Stupid Hats Go)

I read The Three Musketeers and then I watched the 1973, 1993 and 2011 adaptations. Which one wins tho?

Adaptation is a fascinating concept, especially of texts which are frequently adapted or parodied. After I rewatched the 2005 Pride and Prejudice I was reminded how weirdly divisive the two dominant adaptations of that book are. A lot of people consider the 2005 to be an inferior betrayal of the 1990s BBC version. I actually prefer the 2005 because I think Matthew McFadyen’s Mr Darcy is a wonderfully complex character. McFadyen imbues Darcy with social awkwardness and anxiety, which Lizzie misinterprets as his pride. To overcome the “Lizzie doesn’t fancy him ‘til she sees his house” debate, director Joe Wright includes a moment where Lizzie glimpses Darcy alone with his sister. He’s comfortable, his body language is completely different, and he’s smiling broadly. That moment really sold me on the entire film because it made Darcy a full character and was a really simple addition that rounded out the story. I still like the 90s version but for me, it’s the 2005 that takes first place. (Although an honourable mention for Pride and Prejudice and Zombies because it is an excellent romp.)

Look: adaptation is always a complicated topic. You can’t untangle one adaptation from another, because it’s pretty rare that somebody adapting a classic text like Pride and Prejudice or The Three Musketeers is not already familiar with existing adaptations. The most recent adaptation of any classic text is not simply an adaptation of that text, but the next step in a flow chart that includes all the previous adaptations and the cultural context of the newly created product. These three adaptations of Dumas’ 1844 novel are all texturally and stylistically very different, and two of them diverge significantly from the original text. What I found truly fascinating was what all of them had in common, and what each new era (these were made at around 20 year intervals) decides to add or remove. What do all these movies agree are the essential parts of the story, and what are some adaptations more squeamish about including from Dumas’ original narrative?

Before we dive in, no I have not seen every single adaptation of the story, that would be a dissertation level of research and I do actually have things to do right now (although, I will admit...not many.) I’m looking at these three Hollywood adaptations because they all had star studded casts (for the era they were made in), they’re all English language, and (crucially) they were all easily available on the internet for me to stream.

What are the essential ingredients of a Three Musketeers adaptation?

Firstly, there should be at least three musketeers. Secondly, D’Artagnan (Michael York 1973, Chris O’Donnell 1993, Logan Lerman 2011) should be a young upstart who is introduced part way through a sword fight. He should also have silly hair. He is also consistently introduced to the musketeers in all three films by challenging them each individually to duels at noon, one o’clock and two o’clock.

The films all maintained some elements of the original “Queen’s Diamonds” storyline, and featured the Queen, Milady and Constance. The characterisation of these three varied a lot.

Our villains in each case are invariably the Cardinal, his pal Rochefort (who always has an eyepatch, although this trope is not in the book and is actually attributable to the way Christopher Lee is styled in the 1973 film), and Milady de Winter. Satisfyingly, at least two of the villains usually wear red because they’re bad. Red is for bad.

All three are very swashbuckling in tone, have elements of physical comedy, and two of them include one of the three valet characters Dumas wrote into the original story, Planchet (1973 Roy Kinnear, 2011 James “ugh why” Corden). They also all bear the generic markings of the movies made during the same era, our 70s D’Artagnan feels like a prototype Luke Skywalker. The 90s version features a random martial arts performer. The 2011 version has CGI and James Corden in equal measure (read: far too much of both.)

What are the big differences?

I’m going to divide this category into three main segments: character, story and style. My own three musketeers, the three musketeers of movie making.

Character

D’Artagnan

D’artagnan in the book comes across as a pretty comical figure. He’s nineteen and there’s something satisfying about how similar Dumas’ caricature of a nineteen year old is to a modern character of the same age. He’s overconfident, has a simplistic but concrete set of morals, and falls in love with every woman he sees. If D’Artagnan were a 2021 character, he’d really hate The Last Jedi, is what I’m saying. He’d definitely have a tumblr blog, probably a lot like this one, but perhaps a scooch more earnest. He really loved The Lighthouse but he can’t explain why. Isn’t it nice to know that awkward nineteen year olds have been pretty much the same for the last three hundred years at least?

In all three films he’s kind of irritating, but at least in the 1973 this feels deliberate. This version has a certain “Carry On Musketeering” quality to it and D’Artagnan is your pantomime principal, he’s extremely naïve and he takes himself very seriously. This is the closest D’Artagnan to the book, and the 1973 is, in general, the film which adheres most faithfully to that source material.

The 1993, which is (spoiler alert) my least favourite adaptation, has Chris O’Donnell as the least likeable D’Artagnan I’ve come across. I’ve only seen O’Donnell in one other thing, the Al Pacino movie Scent of a Woman. He’s bearable in that because he’s opposite Al Pacino, and so his wide-eyed innocence makes sense as a contrast to Pacino’s aged hoo-ah cynicism. Rather than being introduced in a practice sword fight with his father, as in the other two films, D’Artagnan is fighting the brother of an ex-lover. This captures the problem with the film in general: this adaptation wants D’Artagnan to be cool. He is not. The comedy of the 1973, and indeed the book, comes from D’Artagnan being deeply uncool, and from his blind idolisation of the deeply flawed Musketeers who actually are cool, but not necessarily heroic, or even good people. Their moral greyness contrasts with D’Artagnan’s defined sense of right and wrong, but he still considers them to be role models and heroes.

2011′s version also suffers from “Cool D’Artagnan” syndrome, with the added annoyance of that most Marvel of tropes: the quip. One of the real issues with this film is that the dialogue has a lot of forced quippery that doesn’t quite land, and the editing slows the pace of the entire film. D’Artagnan’s first interaction with Constance is a bad attempt at wit which Constance points out isn’t very funny. The problem is that Constance has no personality so there’s no real indication that she’s in any position to judge his level of wit. She’s just vague, blonde and there: three characteristics which describe an entire pantheon of badly written female characters throughout the ages. Cool D’Artagnan also means that Constance should be additionally cool, because in the book, Constance is older than, smarter than and over-all more in charge than D’Artagnan.

Female Characters

Let’s go into this with an open mind that understands all these films were made in the sociological context of their decade. The 1973 version would absolutely not be made in the same way now. Constance is a clumsy cartoon character who is forever falling over and accidentally sticking her breasts out. This is not the character from the books, but does at least leave an impression on the viewer one way or another.

In contrast, the 1993 has a Constance so forgettable I literally cannot picture her. I think she holds D’Artagnan’s hand at the end. That’s all I can say on the subject.

The 2011 has Gabriella Wilde in the role, and absolutely wastes her. Anyone who’s seen her in Poldark knows that she can do sharp-tongued beautiful wit-princess with ease. It’s the writing of this film that lets her down, in general, that’s the problem with it. The storyline and design are great, but the actual dialogue lacks the pace and bite that a quip-ridden star vehicle needs. This Constance is given simultaneously more and less to do than the Constance of the original book, who demonstrates at every turn the superiority of her intellect over D’Artagnan, but doesn’t get to pretend to be a Musketeer and whip her hat off to show her flowing golden hair like she does in the 2011.

The best character, for my money, in The Three Musketeers is Milady de Winter. Even Dumas got so obsessed with her that there are full chapters of the book written from pretty much her perspective. In the book, she’s described as a terrifying genius with powers of persuasion so potent that any jailor she speaks to must be instantly replaced. My favourite Milady is absolutely Faye Dunaway from 1973. She’s ferocious and beautiful and ruthless, but potentially looks even better because the portrayals in the other films are so very bad.

The 1993 version has your typical blonde 90s baddie woman (Rebecca De Mornay), she wouldn’t look out of place as a scary girlfriend in an episode of Friends or Frasier. 2011 boasts Milla Jovovich who presents us a much more physical version of the character, even doing an awkwardly shoe-horned anachronistic hall of lasers a la Entrapment except instead of lasers its really thin pieces of glass? The “yeah but it looks cool” attitude to anachronism in this film is what makes it fun, and Jovovich’s Milady isn’t awful, she’s just let down by a plot point that she shares with 1993 Milady. Both these adaptations get really hooked on the fact that Athos used to be married to Milady at one time (conveniently leaving out the less justifiable character point that Athos TRIED TO HANG HER when he found out she had been branded as a thief - doesn’t wash so well with the modern audiences, I think.) Rather than hating/fearing Milady, the two modern adaptations suggest that Athos is still in love with her and pines for her. This detracts from Athos’ character just as much as it detracts from Milady’s. Interestingly, and I don’t know where this came from (if it was in the book I definitely missed it), both films feature a confrontation between the two where Athos points a gun at Milady but she pre-empts him by throwing herself off a cliff (or in the 2011, an air-ship.) I think both these versions were concerned that Milady was an anti-feminist character because she’s so wantonly evil, but I disagree. Equality means it is absolutely possible for Milady to be thoroughly evil and hated by the musketeers just as much as they hate Rochefort and the Cardinal. If you want to sort out the gender issues with this story, round Constance out and give her proper dialogue, don’t make Milady go weak at the knees because of whiny Athos (both Athos characters are exceedingly whiny, 1973 Athos is just...mashed).

The Musketeers

These guys are pretty important to get right in a film called The Three Musketeers. They have to be flawed, funny but kind of cool. Richard Chamberlain is an absolute dish in the 1973 version, capturing all those qualities in one. Is it clear which version is my favourite yet?

Athos is played variously by a totally hammered Oliver Reed (1973), a ginger-bearded Kiefer Sutherland (1993) and a badly bewigged Matthew McFadyen (2011). They all have in common the role of being the most level-headed character, but the focus on the relationship between Athos and Milady in the 93 and 11 editions undermines this a lot. Athos should be cool and aloof, instead of mooning over Milady the entire time. The 2011 gives Athos some painfully “edgy” lines like “I believe in this (points at wine) this (flicks coin) and this (stabs coin with knife.)...” which McFadyen ( once oh so perfect as Mr Darcy) doesn’t quite pull off.

Porthos seems to be the musketeer who is the most different between interpretations. A foppish dandy in the 1973, a pirate (!?!) in the 1993, and then just...large in 2011. I think the mistake made in the 2011 is that large alone does not a personality make. There are hints at Porthos’ characterisation from the book: his dependence on rich women for money and his love of fine clothing, but these are only included as part of his introduction and never crop up again through the rest of the film. Pirate Porthos in 1993 is... you know what, fine, you guys were clearly throwing everything at the wall and seeing what stuck.

Aramis is our dishy Richard Chamberlain in 1973, followed by womanising Charlie Sheen in 1993 and then strikingly suave Luke Evans in 2011. I actually didn’t mind Luke Evans’ interpretation, his dialogue is forgettable but his sleek charm stuck in my head. For some reason, this version has Aramis working as a parking attendant for horses, it worked for me as a fun A Knight’s Tale-esque bit of anachronistic character development. Charlie Sheen has never managed to appear likable or attractive to me and so his role in the 1993 falls flat. In fact, in that edition there’s not much distinction between the musketeers as characters and they’re all just very 90s and American. As anyone who’s read this blog before will expect, I think Keanu Reeves as Aramis would have really upped this film’s game. In fact, Keanu Reeves as Aramis, Brad Pitt as Athos and Will Smith as Porthos could have been the ultimate 90s adaptation, throw in DiCaprio as D’Artagnan and Roger Allam as the Cardinal and I’m fully sold.

The King and Queen

All three films try and do the “Queen’s Diamonds” storyline, but only the 1973 actually includes the Queen’s affair with Buckingham. The queen, played by Geraldine Chaplin, is a tragic romantic figure (she doesn’t have a tonne to do besides being wistful and sighing over Lord Buckingham). The king is played as a frivolous idiot by Jean-Pierre Cassel (voice dubbed by Richard Briers). He doesn’t really think of the queen as a person, more as a possession that he doesn’t want Buckingham to have.

In the 1993 version, Buckingham doesn’t really feature, and it’s the queen’s refusal to get off with the Cardinal that prompts his fury at her. The book does touch on the Cardinal’s desire for the queen, but it’s placed front and centre in 1993. This is definitely the boobsiest version, with quite a lot of corsetry on show and a cardinal who hits on literally all the women. The king is shown as a stroppy teenage boy under the thumb of the cardinal, who just wants to ask the queen to the dance but doesn’t have the nerve. The king is, essentially, a Fall Out Boy lyric.

The 2011 also seems to be really squeamish about the idea of the queen having an extramarital affair. It paints Buckingham (played with excellent wig and aplomb by Orlando Bloom) as a stylish villain, who’s advances the queen has rejected. Like the 1993 version, the King is a feckless youth rendered speechless by the presence of his wife. Both these versions want the King and Queen to be happy together, while the 1973 doesn’t give a fuck.

The Cardinal and his Cronies

The cardinal is kind of universally an evil creepy guy. One of the characters from the 1973 version who actually left the least impression on me, played by Charlton Heston. I think he’s overshadowed in my recollection by cartoonishly evil Christopher Lee as Rochefort. Lee’s Rochefort is dark, mysterious and wonderfully bad, and so influential that all other incarnations’ design is based on him. The 1993 version had truly over the top Michael Wincott as a character I could honestly refer to as Darth Rochefort from the way he’s framed, while 2011 boasts a chronically underused Mads Mikkelsen in the role.

Cardinal-wise, 1993 was my favourite with Tim Curry in all his ecclesiastical splendour. It was disappointing that everything about this film, including the Cardinal’s sexual harassment of every single female character, really didn’t work for me. Tim Curry is a natural choice for this role and gives it his campy all.

2011 has not one but two trendy bond villain actors, with Mikkelsen working alongside Christoph Waltz who was...just kind of fine. I was really excited when he appeared but he didn’t really push the character far enough and left me cold.

Story

The story is where the different adaptations diverge most completely. 1973 follows the plot of the novel, D’Artagnan comes to Paris, befriends the Musketeers and becomes embroiled in a plot by the Cardinal to expose the Queen’s affair with Buckingham through the theft of two diamond studs. D’Artagnan, aided partially by the musketeers, must travel to London to retrieve the set of twelve studs gifted by the King to the Queen, and by the Queen to Buckingham. He does so, the plot is foiled, he’s made into a musketeer! Hurrah, tankards all round.

The 1993 version drops D’Artagnan into the story just as the Cardinal has disbanded the Musketeers. I found the plot of this one really hard to follow and I think at some point D’Artagnan ended up in the Bastille? There was this whole plot point about how Rochefort had killed D’Artagnan’s father. In the original, and in the 1973 version, D’Artagnan’s entire beef with Rochefort is rooted in a joke Rochefort makes about D’Artagnan’s horse. I guess for the producers of this one, a horse insult is not enough motivation for a lifelong grudge. That is really the problem with the entire film, it forgets that the story as told by Dumas is set in a world where men duel over such petty things as “criticising one’s horse”, “blocking one’s journey down a staircase” and “accusing one of having dropped a lady’s handkerchief.” The colour palette and styling are very 90s “fun fun fun”, but the portrayal of the cardinal and the endless angst about D’Artagnan’s father really dampen the mood.

The 2011 version, this is where the shit really hits the fan. We meet our musketeers as they collaborate with Milady to steal the blueprints for a flying ship (it’s like a piratecore zeppelin). Milady betrays them and gives the plans to Buckingham, they all become jaded and unemployed. D’Artagnan arrives on the scene (his American accent explained by the fact that he’s from a different part of France) and befriends the Musketeers. The cardinal tries to frame the queen for infidelity by having Milady steal her diamonds to hide them in Buckingham’s safe at the tower of London. Something something Constance, something something help me D’Artagnan you’re my only hope. MASSIVE AIRSHIP BATTLE. The king and queen have a dance. James Corden cracks wise.

It seems like as time has passed, producers, writers and directors have felt compelled to embellish the story. I think, specifically in the case of the two later versions, this is because they wanted the films to resemble the big successes of the period. Everybody knows no Disney hero can be in possession of both parents, so D’Artagnan is out to avenge his father like Simba or Luke Skywalker. In the 2011 version, the plot is overblown and overcomplicated in what seems like an attempt to replicate the success of both the Sherlock Holmes and Pirates of the Caribbean franchises. Remember the plot of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End? No, me neither.

Style

The style of these films grows increasingly wild along with the plots as time passes. The 1973 features a lot of slapstick comedy, some of which really made me cackle, and some of which was cringeworthily sexist (Constance’s boobs through the window of a litter.) That’s the 70s though! I love The Godfather but Diane Keaton’s character is unbelivably dull and annoying. Star Wars features a pretty good female character but she does end up in that bikini. The 70s seems to be a time of movies that were great except for their occasional headlong dive into misogyny. That doesn’t mean the entire movie is bad, it just means it’s suffering from the consequences of being made in the 70s. There were other consequences of this, I doubt many modern productions could get away with physically injuring so many of it’s cast members. From a glance down the IMDB trivia page, this film yielded a higher casualties to cast ratio than the My Chemical Romance Famous Last Words music video, and that’s a hard figure to top.

The 1993 version is a Disney feature and suffers from having a thin sheen (not Charlie in this instance) of “Disney Original Movie” pasted over every scene. It looks like The Parent Trap might be filming in the adjacent studio a lot of the time. The vibrancy of the colours makes the costumes look unrealistic, while the blandness of the female characters means this movie ends up a bit of a bland bro-fest. Also occasionally the sexual and violent moments really jar with the overall tone making it an uneven watch. One minute it’s Charlie Sheen cracking jokes about trying to get off with someone’s wife, the next minute you see Milady throw herself off a cliff and land on the rocks. Weird choices all round.

The 2011 version, as I’ve already mentioned, was trying to borrow its style from the success of Sherlock Holmes and Pirates of the Caribbean, with a little Ocean’s 11 thrown in. The soundtrack flips between not quite a Hans Zimmer score and not quite that other Hans Zimmer score, and after the success of Stardust it ends with a Take That song (for it to match up to the story it should have been Take That feat. Harry styles imho). Visually, there’s some fantastic travel by mapping going on, there’s far too much CGI (one of my friends pointed out that the canal in Venice seemed to be full of Flubber). Everyone is dressed in black leather, and there are not enough big hats at all. One of the best things about Musketeers films is that they’re an excuse for ridiculous hats, and in a film with a quite frankly insane visual style, I’m surprised the hats didn’t make it through. The cast, unfortunately, really lack chemistry which means the humorous dialogue is either stilted or James Corden, and the editing is just very strange. It’s one of those films that feels about as disjointed as an early morning dream, the one where you dream you’ve woken up, gotten dressed and fed the cat, but you actually are still in bed.

Conclusion

Adaptations focus on different things depending on the context they were created in. The 2005 Pride and Prejudice is deliberately “grittier” than its 1990s predecessor, at a stage when “grit” was everywhere (The Bourne Identity, Spooks, Constantine). The Musketeers adaptations demonstrate exactly the same thing: what people wanted in the 70s was bawdy comedy and slapstick with a likeable idiot hero, the 90s clearly called for... Charlie Sheen and bright colours, and the 2010s just want too much of everything and a soundtrack with lots of banging and crashing. The more modern adaptations simplified the female characters (although the 1973 version definitely is guilty of oversimplifying Constance) while over-complicating the plot. There’s a lot of embellishment going on in the 2011 version that suggests the film wasn’t very sure of itself, it pulls its plot punches while simultaneously blindly flailing its stylistic fists.

The film that works the best for me will always be the 1973 because it’s pretty straight down the line. Musketeers are good, Milady is evil, falling over is funny and the King’s an idiot. The later adaptations seem to be trying to fix problems with the story that the 1973 version just lets fly. The overcorrection of Milady and the under characterisation of Constance is the perfect example of this. If you want your Musketeers adaptation to be more feminist, don’t weaken Milady, strengthen Constance. Sometimes a competent female character is all that we need. A Constance who is like Florence Cassel from Death in Paradise or Ahn Young-yi from Misaeng could really pack a punch.

I adored the energy of the 2011 adaptation, I loved how madcap it was, I loved how it threw historical accuracy to the wind. I thought the king was adorable, and I really enjoyed seeing Orlando Bloom hamming it up as Buckingham. I was genuinely sad that the sequel the ending sets up for never came, because once they got out of the sticky dialogue and into the explosions, the film was great fun. It was a beautiful disaster that never quite came together, but I really enjoyed watching it. I love films that have a sense of wild chaos, some more successful examples are The Devil’s Advocate, Blow Dry and Lego Batman. I think the spirit of going all out on everything can sometimes result in the best cinematic experience, it’s just a shame the script wasn’t really up to muster for 2011 Musketeers.

I’m excited to see what the next big budget Musketeers adaptation brings, even if I’m going to have to wait another ten years to see it. I hope it’s directed by Chad Stahelski, that’d really float my boat (through the sky, like a zeppelin.)

#ThreeMusketeers #Three Musketeers #Adaptation #Movies #Film #The Three Musketeers

8 notes · View notes

kewltie · 4 years

Text

"Get out of my way, extras," Katsuki yells, pushing through a throng of busybody who all decided at that moment to move as sluggishly as possible like they got nothing to do but stand in his way. "Fucking move it already!"

"Sorry, sorry, he hadn’t has his lunch yet," Eijirou says behind him to the people Katsuki had offended.

Which is not an uncommon thing around him; he'd rightfully pissed off more than a few people in this lifetime. What is uncommon is Katsuki storming his way through a police station in the afternoon with adrenaline and anticipation hot on his tail since he'd received that message from Captain Omari.

Zero, I believe we just had a major breakthrough with the Nine case. I suggest you come to the station this instance.

Nine, that fucking ratface bastard has been thorn in Katsuki side for so long now that there’s not a day he doesn’t think about grinding his face in the dust. Ruthless and cunning, Nine had managed to keep a tight rein of terror in Katsuki's city.

He'd went head to head against Nine in countless battles before, came out on top more than half it, but had been denied his rightful victory every fucking time Nine had clawed his way out and escaped Katsuki's grip. More than just beyond frustrating, it is his greatest humiliation.

Katsuki has been on this chase for three years now, right after his agency had took over the main patrol routes of the city, but Nine remains elusive as ever and for all Katsuki’s accomplishment and accolades he'd achieved so far – owning his own agency in just only five years after his debut, unseating the previous number one hero, and a growing list of villains he'd taken down and thrown in Tartarus. Nine's entire existence is an embarrassing mar on his more than stellar record.

Now, he finally get a chance to put Nine away for good and keep it that way, with no hope of that slimy bastard wiggling his way out of it this time around, because Katsuki is going to fucking destroy him.

Katsuki's legs eventually carry him right outside of a secure interrogation room, where two armed officers are station by the door. "Ground Zero," one of them says, dipping his head in deference, "the captain is waiting for you in there."

He makes a grunt of acknowledgement. Just as he about to open the door with Eijirou close behind him, the officer on the left puts his hand out to block them from coming in.

"Sorry, sir, but the captain requested to only see Zero-san at the moment," he says.

Katsuki's eyes narrow. "What the fuck. He's my partner."

"S-sorry," the man says again, wilting under the force of Katsuki's glare, "but it’s captain's order."

Eijirou, who is less of an asshole than him and therefore marginally better at handling other people, just pats Katsuki's on the shoulder and shrugs. "Don't worry, just go on ahead without me. I'm sure, Captain Omari has a good reason for it."

Katsuki makes a face and lets out a resigned sigh. Nine is such a troublesome little shit that it became an inter-agencies mission to hunt him down with Katsuki leading the charge, bullying other agencies in the district to work with him because Nine is a public menace and UA had beaten him black and blue the lone wolf mentally out of him. Captain Omari had been supporting him from the side, doing menial investigations and interviews that Katsuki is too busy for.

They work closely together enough now that if the old man thinks this is serious enough to warrant secrecy, even though he trusts Eijirou with his life, then fuck Katsuki is going to respect it. "Fine," he grits out, giving Eijirou a nod, "you stay out here then. Wait for me."

Ejirou gives him a thumb up. "You got it, bro."

Katsuki rolls his eyes and turns to the officer, blocking him from entering currently. "Can I fucking go in now?" he demands.

"Uh, y-yes, of course, sir," the officer squeaks out, stepping aside so Katsuki can come through. Katsuki’s terrifying reputation precedes him once more. Good.

He opens the door with no resistance and walks into an even smaller room as the door shuts behind him. It's empty of occupant and a compact space with a large blackened glass mirror taking over one half of the wall, separating this room from another room where there's another door tucked to a corner.

There's no sound coming through from the other side, but he knows Omari is there and whatever lead he might have caught is there also. He thinks maybe it’s another witness to Nine’s crime or one of Nine’s associates finally coming in to turn against Nine for leniency later. The former is more likely than the latter, because nobody connected with Nine was stupid or insane enough to betrayed him; those fucking cowards.

Katsuki clenches and unclenches his hand, knowing that Omari wouldn't hail him here like this if he didn't expect something good to come out of it. He trusts Omari.

He walks over to the door, twists the knob open, pushes his way through and steps inside to a—nursery? There are kids on the floor, three bowed head shading away on pages of a coloring book and there's another one sitting nearby, watching them closely with a cool detachment.

Their quiet giggles and murmurs that had filled the room earlier stops abruptly at the sound of his entrance, and he's staring right into the eyes of youthful curiosity in some and heavy skepticism and wariness in others. These children make him feels stripped raw.

One, two, three, and four, he counts off in his head, from what look to be the oldest sitting in a chair against the wall with her hands carefully place on her lap and the youngest sandwiching between his other siblings, because they're clearly blood related with three of the four sharing the same eerie white hair and stormy grey eyes.

Only the youngest, no. 4, Katsuki quietly dubs in his head, sticks out like a sore thumb with a head full of green curl and an even greener set of eyes that avoided his gaze.

"It's Ground Zero!" the little girl, no. 3, on the floor says with a delighted gasp, reaching over no. 4 to shake no. 2’s shoulder excitedly.

No. 2, a sour looking boy, grunts in annoyance and roll away from her touch. "I can see that, Akira. I'm not blind."

No. 4 huddles closer to no. 3 as though he can hide from Katsuki's scrutiny, while no. 1 doesn't even react to his presence, continuing to watch over her younger siblings with careful consideration.

Someone clears their throat and it's definitely none of the kids because Omari says, "Ah, there you are, Bakugou."

Katsuki jerks his head up to meet Omari's amused gaze. He'd been so preoccupied by these kids, who shouldn’t be here in the first place, that he didn’t even take notice of anybody else in the room and eve forgot the reason why he's here.

"Sorry," he grumbles. "I just—who the fuck are these brats?! And where the hell are their parents?!"

"Language," No. 1 snaps out, speaking up for the first time. There’s an arrogance lilt to her voice as her eyes narrow at him, finally deeming him important enough to be acknowledge. "Please watch your mouth around my younger siblings, Zero-san."

Katsuki glares at that tiny ball of superiority, who doesn't even flinch under the heat of his fury. She's cool as fucking ice and he has a lot of things he want to say about that, but wisely keeps his mouth shut because he's not getting into an argument with a fucking fetus.

Omari stifles a laugh at the hilarious theater unfolding before him, because it's not everyday Ground Zero get scolded by a child, and clears his throat again. "Sorry that I called you in such a hurry, but," he rises from his seat and steps back, "this is extremely important. I would like you to meet someone," he says, gesturing his hand out toward the other person, who'd been sitting quietly across the table from him.

Katsuki's eyes widen as he looks past Omari and into the face he hadn't seen in more than ten years. "Hello, Kacchan," Midoriya Izuku says. It’s same green curls, green eyes, and freckles dusting across his cheeks, but he’s older and surer of himself, looking particularly comfortable in his seat.

"W-what, Deku?!" Katsuki stumbles out, half in hysteric and disbelief. "I-I thought you fucking died! What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Well, I see you have met my children," Izuku says instead, glancing over at the brats lovingly with a soft smile. "And they're the sole reason I'm here today."

The last time, Katsuki had seen Midoriya Izuku was when he was watching him get cart off into a car by the social services three days after Aunt Inko had died of a car accident; he was only thirteen. Quirkless, omega, and recently orphaned – Izuku was truly one of the world’s the unluckiest bastards.

Katsuki's mother had wanted to take Izuku in, but a young omega and alpha living under the same roof was ill advised and Katsuki would have fought it every single step. The social service simply wouldn't have it, and so Izuku became a ward of the state. Katsuki didn't see him again after that. Until now that is.

After more than ten years, he'd only assumed the worst.

Omegas, especially one that young, who had taken in by the state would eventually get fostered – auctioned - off to eligible bachelor alphas as soon as they turn sixteen to be mated, leaving them with little to no choice but to comply.

Afterward, they tend to disappeared off the map.

Sometimes that means they're dead, other times they're alive but enslaved. Katsuki doesn't know which the better outcome is because they're both shit either way. His mother had tried to look for Izuku afterward and even Katsuki made his own attempt because he realized what a shit he was, but years had passed by and still nothing, no sign of a Midoriya Izuku at all. Eventually, Katsuki had to write Izuku off completely.

Now, he's standing in a secured room at a police station and Midoriya Izuku is not only alive, but whole and healthy. The only thing he can think of is: "These horrid little monsters are your kids?!"

No. 3's head perks up and she scowls at him. "Hey, hey, that's not nice!"

No. 2's eyes narrow, raising his fist up and looking at Katsuki's thoughtfully. "Should I kick him?" he offers.

No. 1 frowns, lips thinning out in unimpressed line. "Kouki, do not do that," she scolds at her brother. "We don't lower ourselves to his baser level."

No. 4 leans close to no. 3’s ear and whispers, not quite quiet enough, to his sister, "are we monster, Akira-nee?"

"Yea," she curls her fingers like they are claws at him and a low growl rumbles from her throat, "and I'mma eat you, Hikaru!" Her fingers attacks his side relentlessly.

No. 4 tries to fend off her attack with a fit of loud giggles and flailing hands, hiding behind no. 2 ,who only scowls before raising his fists up to defend no. 4 from no. 3, which quickly descends into a tickle fight. No. 1 looks upon her younger siblings and sighs deeply like they pained her.

"Yes," Izuku says, watching the tickle fight unfolding before them with barely contained amusement and fondness, "they're my most precious children." There's an entire world in those few words; a fierce love that could weather any storm. He turns toward no. 1 and gestures toward her. "Over there is my eldest daughter and pride, Yuko."

Yuko rises to her feet and lowers her head just slightly enough to show respect, but her cold gaze locking on him says another otherwise. "Hello," she greets, and a heavy beat, then, "Kacchan."

Katsuki's left eye twitch, but he holds his tongue as Izuku fails to hide his smile.

"My twins," Izuku continues, waving to the tangled limbs on the floor, "the sullen Kouki and fierce Akira, who are pulling at each other's hair."

"Papaaaaaaa," Akira whines, kicking Kouki in the side to get him off of her as Kouki grunts in pain, "Kouki is embarrassing me in front of Kacchan!"

Kouki releases his sister with a shove and scowls, which is all he seems to be able to do. "Kacchan," he sneers, "can eat my—"

"Kouki!" Yuko snaps, grey eyes flashing with heat.

Kouki stares up at Yuko for a beat, and then ducks his head dejectedly. "Sorry, Yuko-nii. Sorry, Papa."

"As you can see they’re my lovely twins," Izuku says, smiling proudly down at his children like his kids didn't tried to kill each other in front of him and there are witnesses to it. "And lastly my youngest and treasure, Hikaru."

Hikaru scrambles up from the floor and hurries to Izuku, climbing into his lap. He buries his face into Izuku's shoulder, hands fisting around Izuku's shirt tightly like he's trying to hide himself from the world, but slowly he raises his head away from Izuku to quietly and shyly says, "Hi, Kacchan."

Ok, Katsuki’s heart quickens just slightly there but the fact that he’s also adopting his older siblings' choice of name for Katsuki is—annoying. These kids have no fucking boundaries at all.

Katsuki scrubs his face, feeling a headache coming on. "Yea, thanks for introduction and all, I guess, but I still don't understand what the fu—" Yuko shoots him another quelling glare and Katsuki grimaces as he corrects himself, because this kid is not letting up, "is going on."

Omari, who had been letting Izuku lead the conversation so far, pips up finally, "I told you in the message earlier that I need you here." His expression straightens out and there’s a heavy solemnness to it. “It’s Nine. Izuku-san is here for Nine.”

With just that name alone the entire room freezes as though a forbidding cloud have descended upon them.

Yuko's shoulders tighten just minutely enough that if Katsuki didn't pay close attention he wouldn't have notice. The twins get up from the floor to stand behind their older sister, holding to each other in a united front like they're going to war. Izuku squeezes his arms around Hikaru, who ducks his head under his chin and tries to pretend nobody else exist in the room.

Katsuki frowns at the sudden change in the family's friendly atmosphere earlier. "What does that have to do with Deku and the kids?" he demands, even though there's a nagging feeling in his head that he’ll hate whatever words to come out of their mouth next.

"He's my husband," Izuku admits quietly, and it’s strained like the words had to dragged out of him, "and the sire of my children."

Yea, he fucking hates it. Katsuki feels like someone had just ripped the rug under him. "You married the bastard?!" he demands, storming up to Izuku. "Do you even know what kind of person he is?! He’s a murdering psychopath whose kill counts are in the triple digits!"

"Get away from my Papa," he hears Kouki yells off in the distance, but fuck Katsuki couldn't care less right now as Yuko scolds, "Kouki! Kouki, enough! Stop it."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the two sisters struggling to hold Kouki back from jumping Katsuki. For such a small body, there’s a lot of rage in him. Something that Katsuki is keenly familiar with.

"Kouki, please," Izuku says gently. And that's all it take for Kouki to completely exhausts his fighting spirit. "Sorry," he says, looking at Katsuki apologetically, "my kids are just protective." He looks down at the table separating them, hand carefully stroking Hikaru's back.

Katsuki casts a quick glance at Omari, who quietly shakes his head and keeps his mouth zip, clearly wanting Izuku to dictate the pace of the conversation. There's a story here, he knows, and Izuku and his kids are at the very center of it and Katsuki doesn't like it one bit. "Deku," he says awkwardly, like blubbering fool, "just take your time. I'll wait."

He finds himself in the uncomfortable position of having to comfort a distressed civilian and his wayward kids, which is not something Katsuki is used to. It should have been Eijirou rather, who always been better at this than him, but somehow that's not good enough.

"And it is because I know who my husband is that's why I'm here before you," Izuku reveals, voice steady and firm with each word. "When I'd married him, I was sixteen and had no other choice, but now my children are older and I will do anything to secure their future so that they have the choice that I didn't." He lifts his gaze and meets Katsuki's own, eyes bright and fierce with all the power of a parental love behind it; it’s a force to be reckon with. "I will not let my children become a monster like their sire. They will not be a villain of their own story," he declares to the entire room.

Katsuki cast a quick glance at Omari, a silence exchange passes between them, and Omari gives a short nod before Katsuki’s focus falls back on Izuku. "It would take us a few hours and a bit of work, but we can arrange to take you and your kids away right now," he offers. His mind is already racing with the logistic of it. It'll be rush job, but he knows they can do it. They will do it. Izuku won't accept anything less for his family and neither will Katsuki, this is something they can both agreed upon. "We can protect your family from Nine. Just tell us what you know of him and his operation and we'll take it from here," he presses.

Nine is still a main priority of him and his team even though he’s now terribly aware that the monster he had been dreaming of putting away for life has a spouse and kid, but even then Nine had ruined the idea of a family too with his taint. You have to be a certain kind of rotten bastard to invoke enough fear and anger in your family to have them turned on you.

Izuku smiles, but it’s too wide and crooked. "Thank you,” he shakes his head, “but no."

Katsuki blinks, then reels back in shock and annoyance. Does he even know what he’s rejecting?! "What do you mean no? Didn't you come here specifically for our help?!"

"You can't help me," Izuku says, slowly but firmly. "Nine has been given free ranged of this city for years, Kacchan, and you and your people couldn't even do anything to stop him. You didn't even know my family existed until now, because you had nothing on him. The only one who can help me right now is myself and I will be the one to put him down for good."

Katsuki flinches, instinctively the young hotheaded alpha in him rumbles unpleasantly. "What can you even do?!" He sneers. "You're what—a househusband? Last a check you're quirkless and an omega, what can you even do that we can't? Leave this to the pros, we'll take care of it."

Izuku winces, a flash of hurt runs across his face as his eyes lower to the table and his hand balls into a fist at the back of Hikaru, who cries out a soft, concern, "Papa?"

"Bakugou," Katsuki hears the infliction of a scold in Omari's voice, but he doesn't care. Izuku's earlier words had sting harder than he like to admit. He always know how to get under Katsuki’s skin even after all these years. Something never changes.

"Fuck you!" he hears a young, angry voice from the side then a flash of movement before he gets a face full of spite in Kouki. "You don't know what sort of hell we'd suffered in that house, so don't you ever talk that way to my Papa. He's more of a hero than any of you people!" His small fists clenched at his side, body bristling in defense and ready for a fight with him.

Katsuki casts a hasty, furtive glance at the other two who remains silence, but their silence is deafening with the way a wrought of disappointment and hurt runs across Akira's face. While Kouki's anger is all fire and brimstone, Yuko's contempt runs much deeper and colder in it placidly, enough to chills him to the bones. The fact that she didn't rebuke Kouki right away for his language tells Katsuki that there's a storm brewing behind those her cold grey eyes and he's the culprit for it.

Katsuki is a rightful asshole. He knows this, his friends like to remind him often enough, but he isn't a malicious one. Not anymore anyway. Being around Izuku though brought back that angry and dumb boy who only knows how to lash out and hurt others for the damage he'd perceived they committed against him.

That isn't him though. He isn’t that boy anymore.

He really thought he truly outgrown it, but confronted with the living memory of all his insecurities, he had regressed once more. Midoriya Izuku always got the better of him. Quirkless and omega be damned, because Izuku always broke Katsuki’s carefully laid boundaries and expectations.

That truth made him furious back then. Now it leaves him empty.

Katsuki takes several steps back from them, scrubs his face furiously, and exhales. A long, deep exhale and shoves out all his crumbling self doubts and fucked ups down, because this isn't about him. Not, not about him at all. "Sorry," he murmurs, embarrassed, then he remembers the face of those kids and sighs. "Sorry," he says again, louder and stronger this time around. "That's inexcusable. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way."

Omari looks so shock by his sudden apology that he nearly chokes on air. Izuku also seems surprised by his outburst by the slight hang of his lips, but it softens out into a small, shy smile that makes him appear much younger than he really is. Almost like the boy Katsuki used to know.

"No. 2 is right, I know shit so I shouldn't have assumed," Katsuki presses on, cheeks flushing at his own admission.

"No. 2? Did he mean Kouki?" Akira not whispers to her sister, because nobody in this fucking family knows how to do it properly.

Yuko hisses a, "be quiet, Akira," in return.

"Thank you," Izuku acknowledges with a curve of his lips, because he always been kinder and better than Katsuki in that regard. "I accept your apology, Kacchan."

Kouki only glares at him as he settles next to Izuku, arms folded and hovering close by as some sort of silent sentinel, but really he just look like a miniature protector. Kinda useless but an A for effort, Katsuki guesses.

"I understand where your doubt and hesitation is coming from, so I came prepared to prove my point," Izuku continues, jerking his head toward the two girls. "Yuko, would you please?"

"Yes, Papa," Yuko says, pulling back to rummage through her small purse, and takes out a pencil case from the bag.

Katsuki's brows furrow as Yuko approaches him with the fuzzy panda shape pencil case. He glances at Omari who also adopts a look of total confusion on his face too.

"Hand, please. This is for you, Kacchan," Yuko says coolly, depositing it onto his open palm. "Open it and look inside."

A tiny bit miffed at having to take order by a damn fetus, but he finds himself obeying anyway and unzips the bag to find four USB flash drives tucked inside and nothing else. He jerks his head up, eyes widen as Izuku gives him a knowing and purposeful smile that is full of bite. Izuku hasn't said anything yet, but Katsuki's heart is already racing with the hints of what to come.

"Those four flash drives contain all the information I've collected over ten years about my husband and his crime wave. They hold everything about his associates, sources, and businesses," Izuku explains. "Pictures, documentations, and weekly logs of what he had been up to for the past years. I had painstakingly gathered them together and put it all in those flash drives as evidence. And this is just four of the ten I made so far. The rest is to guarantee my children safety." He places his hands on the table and stares at Omari and Katsuki with a pointed look. "As you can see it's not that I need you, but it is you who need me," he finishes. "Like I said before, there is nothing I won't do for my children, so do I have your attention now?"

It has been over ten years since they had last seen each other — Katsuki had went on and seized the number one ranking as the top hero in the country, and Izuku had all disappeared from Katsuki’s life . Only to reappear before him as the spouse of one of the most dangerous villains in the world. And he even got four kids in tow now.

What utter bullshit.

If someone told him that this is their future — standing on opposing side, he, a hero, trying to put down a villain and Izuku, a quirkless omega, who effectively engineered his own husband downfall. It's absurd. Laughable even. But here they both are, staring each other down like the clash of titans; an unstoppable force colliding with an unmovable object. Katsuki had fought more formidable foe than this married, quirkless omega in front of him, and yet, he shakes his head and sighs; a curious foreign feeling stirs within.

It's not awful and that's the thing, the rage and despair doesn't kick in even though he realizes who had come out of this battle of wills victorious. "Fine. Fucking fine. You win, Deku," he says with wry twist of his lips. "We'll do as you say and follow your lead."

A true smile spreads across Izuku's face that isn't hinder by any passing secrets and machination. It was one he reserved solely for his children. "Thank you, Kacchan," he says, tilting his head toward Katsuki. "I came to you because I knew I can trust you, but I didn't expect you to have grown this much too. It's a nice surprised," he admits, blush staining his cheeks as he looks away, unwilling to meet Katsuki's startled gaze.

"I—I, yea, uh, you too," Katsuki stumbles out like a total idiot as Omari sucks in a deep breath next to him, clearly amused by their entire exchange.

But he's the only one because Kouki's face crunches up like he'd ate something bitter, Yuko just glares at him with the force enough to level a city, and Akira's eyes widen as she glances back and forth between a blushing Izuku and Katsuki's foot in his mouth act.

"Ohmygod," Akira says horrified, a palm flying to her mouth.

"Be quiet," Yuko hisses at her.

But it's not them, who is the final nail in the coffin for Katsuki and Izuku. Hikaru pushes himself away from Izuku's hold, enough to get look at him and frowns. "Papa, why is your face so red?" says Hikaru, brows furrowing worriedly. "Are—are you sick?"

"N—no, I'm fine," Izuku immediately denies, hands flying toward his face to cover himself from Hikaru's curious inquiry, but Hikaru is relentless.

"Then why are you hiding?" he demands, reaching for Izuku to pry the fingers away. And it's a battle between father and son.

Katsuki finds himself watching Deku—Izuku—who had easily flipped their power game around and put himself on top of them like it was nothing, now he's currently fighting off his son's curious attention and failing.

It's. All. Just. So. Fucking. Cute. Fuck him. He's going crazy now. Losing his fucking mind the longer he spend in here.

Kouki reaches over and snatches Hikaru's hand in his grip. "Stop," he orders, low and pointed. "You're bothering Papa."

Hikaru's head dips and he says quietly, "Sorry, Kouki-nii." And Kouki releases Hikaru's hand.

Izuku lets out a breath of relief. "Thank you, Kouki."

God, kill him now. Adorable. This family is going to be the death of him. Every one of them.

He groans, rubbing his face as thought that will cure whatever fucking illness that had taken hold of him. He can hear Omari trying to smother a chuckle beside him.

Katsuki straightens up and clears his throat. "So shall we do next?"

Izuku places Hikaru on the floor, who quickly clambers toward Kouki to hold his older brother’s hand in his. "I'll head home with the kids for now and we go on as though nothing had changed as I gathered the last of my flash drives and the incriminating information for you," he tells them.

A brow shoots up to Katsuki's hairline. "Just like that? You're fine with coming back to him after all that shit?" Isn’t he scare of what Nine could do to them if he accidently slipped off somehow? Katsuki had seen all of Nine’s former associates choosing to be thrown in Tartarus rather than give up Nine, because of how much terror he had instill in all of them.

Izuku gives an amused snort. "I have been living with him since I was sixteen, young and helpless, and no power to fight back. I can handle him just fine."

Izuku may say it all nonchalantly, but there's strange flicker of his face that causes all his children tense up. It makes Katsuki want to reach out and grabs Izuku and his children so he can stuffed them away in a safe house so Nine can't touch any of them. Fucking slimy bastard.

Just because Izuku thinks he's okay doesn't make it so. Sometimes abuse doesn’t leave any physical imprints behind, but it grips the heart and poisoned everything else, leaving the victim just as damaged and broken in the same way.

But Izuku is no victim. He's a survivor. This is the most obvious thing he'd understood today.

"Okay, but if you need anything, you can contact me anytime," Katsuki says, holding his hands still at his side so he doesn't do anything stupid like reach out toward Izuku without his permission. "I'm here if you need me."

"Oh," Izuku breathes, a pink tint rises to his cheeks once more and Katsuki wonders how many times he can be the cause of it? And then proceeds to want to punch himself in the face for that train of thought. "I—I see, thank you for that offer. I wouldn't want to impose."

"No!" Katsuki says vehemently, feeling like he's losing his fucking mind here because he can't stop running his stupid mouth. "I don't fucking care. Impose away. It doesn't matter how small it is, just let me help you. You don't have to take on everything yourself."

Izuku's lips part, but no words come out as he stares at Katsuki with an inexplicable expression across his face, making Katsuki's edgy under the scrutiny like he’s picking Katsuki’s apart to see what make him tick.

Silence descends upon them.

Omari coughs into his hand, clearing the strange air between them. "If that will be all?

Izuku drags his gaze away from Katsuki enough to nods his head. "Yes, I'll contact you as soon as I finished my preparation," he says, rising to his feet.

Yea, the quicker they get the mission done with and throw Nine in prison, the sooner Izuku and his children can be free. And be out of Katsuki’s life and thought.

The only problem is the fucking waiting around, and he's not used to being still and holding out for others to take action first, but he's not leading this mission. It's all Izuku's. They're just following him along and aiding him, when Izuku is the one in control of everything.

It's a sore situation he finds himself in, but as Izuku steps away from the table to reveal his hand carefully resting over the tiny bump of his stomach. And Katsuki is not fucking dumb, okay? He knows what he's seeing. "Wait, you're pregnant?!" Katsuki demands, voice going scratchy high with disbelief.

Izuku pauses, glances down at his stomach as though he’d forgotten about it. "Ah, yes that's right." His face brightens as he rubs his slightly bulging belly. "I told you before, I would do anything to secure my children's future. No children of mine will be raised as monster. "

The children huddle around Izuku protectively, a united front against the world. This kind of bond goes beyond just blood. Forged in the fire of the hell they must have endure under Nine's fearful reign over their household.

He may not know their full story, but it's there. He can see it all over their face in the frigid glare of Yuko, the aggressive stance of Kouki, and the tightness of Akira's shoulders. But even among all that horror, there is hope still: "Hello, baby sister," Hikaru says softly to Izuku's belly, touching it fondly.

“Hey, it could be boy!” Akira protests.

“Girl,” Kouki says with a frown. “I want a little sister.”

“Don’t assume things,” Yuko lectures her siblings. “We don’t know yet!”

Izuku laughs, seemingly delighted by his children fighting over their newest sibling.

Katsuki is a pro-hero, fighting and protecting is part of his job, his duty; it's who he is, but looking at the family in front of him he has never been more seized by this wretched feeling to be better, to do better to earn their—trust and faith. Fuck, he just wants to be enough to deserve them. To be able to protect them against all the wrongs that had been dealt against them.

He wants them.

#bakudeku #stepdad au #fic snippet

107 notes · View notes

milstrim · 3 years

Text

Magic of One’s Own

Day 15: Magical Healing

"This is a stupid idea."

"Wouldn't be my kind of idea if I didn't do it," Tony snarked, pulling the raggedy cloak tighter around his shoulders.

The General stared at Tony in complete exasperation, his face pinched in annoyance, but his eyes shining with mirth. Rhodey always pretended like he hated Tony's ideas, but the king knew better. Still, Rhodey continued to try and convince him.

"Leaving the castle without a guard is idiotic, Tones. I don't know if I'm legally allowed to let you leave."

"I'm sorry, who makes the rules?" Tony asked sarcastically, then he pointed at himself dramatically, "I think it was me. I don't really remember what that guy was saying during my coronation--way too many words--but I do think I recall--"

"--Alright, alright!" Rhodey placated, and he knew he'd won. His friend tightened the fasten on his dull brown cloak, pulling up the hood and checking his leather tunic to make sure it was inconspicuous enough, "Go out into the city or whatever, get some air, I'll cover for you tonight, say we're going over how we're securing our border. Happy?"

"Never."

"Great. Amazing. You have six hours, grab me a scone or something," Rhodey scoffed. Tony waved with a mischievous smile as he left the castle stables. Despite Rhodey's reluctance and general annoyance at Tony sneaking out, it wasn't like it was unusual. He didn't do it extremely often, but it wasn't a rarity. It was something he liked to do every couple of months, to be one of the crowd, one of the hundreds of thousands of his kingdom.

It was refreshing, in its own way. Nothing was expected of him for a few blissful hours. Not the Avengers, not the borders, not the world. He just got to barter for a few goods and enjoy the sunset, maybe entertain some passing by kids. And Tony loved it. Especially with the kingdom's recent problems.

There were rumors of hotspots of magic. Dangerous magic. It was blue and red, saying to have caused plants to wither in some places, or spring to life more beautifully than ever before in others. Magic, much like Tony's outings, wasn't unusual, but it wasn't everywhere all the time either. It was rare, and it wasn't always loved. Tony had sent out guards, he'd sent out the Avengers, and he'd even gone out himself to examine places where the red and blue glow had reportedly been seen, but so far nothing. And the kingdom was getting scared.

Tony cleared all thoughts of the problem from his mind as he came into the town square. There were hundreds of people bustling around, all competing to get where they needed to be first. The colors of their robes and dresses were vibrant, especially in the red of the setting sun, which cast an almost magical glow over the market. He smiled as he saw a little girl stumble past with her mother, her yellow dress trailing behind her. With a shake of his head, the king dove into the throng, becoming part of the crowd.

He liked doing this every so often--though Rhodey always reacted like it was the first time he'd left the castle walls--and he always found it refreshing. Being in the kingdom when no one recognized him was freeing, and it also allowed him to understand at least a little bit what it was like with his citizens, which was hard to do from his throne.

The king's first few hours in the city were amazing, as they always were. He watched performers, paid for some trinkets and street food, and even bought a beautiful bouquet of lilies for his wife that literally glowed a bright blue when you sang to them. Overall, it was pleasant, with the sun being replaced by a waning moon and blue lights flickering on with trapped lightflies in the bright yellow absence.

This was the time that Tony liked the kingdom the most. Despite the darkness of the night, bathed by the blue glow, it was still lively. Taverns still burst with music and laughter, couples walked along the waterfront, waving at passing by boats or magical sprites that danced through the trees. He smiled at the sight as a few flickered above him, dancing away quickly as he made a turn down an alleyway.

He should probably be heading back to the castle now. It was already a far enough walk away, and he was sure that Happy was beginning to freak out despite Rhodey covering for his ass. He'd already spent all his money anyway, and he didn't want the flowers he'd gotten for Pepper to wilt so--

A glint.

Tony froze as it caught his eye, trailing the glint to the person holding it, and two others behind them. Oh great. A mugging. And he'd spent all of his money. Glancing them over, he collected his cool confidence and turned on his heel to leave, only to find the other end of the alley blocked by two more men. Great. Amazing. This was just great.

So this wasn't great. He wondered if they'd recognized him or if they just thought that he'd be an easy target for some quick change. His questions were answered as the group stalked forward.

"Hello, your highness," greeted one of the men, and Tony was just able to make out his face from the blue lamp a street behind them. The knife he was holding glinted under the blue lamp, but as he got a good look at it he realized that it wasn't just glinting, it was glowing. So it was enchanted. Great. "What're you doing out of your golden palace?"

"Oh, y'know, just sightseeing, doing some touristy shit," he replied sarcastically, pulling himself up as tall as he could be and tensing when more men piled into the alleyway. There were ten of them in total, most with weapons that were glowing brightly, clearly all enchanted, and by the different colors the knives and staffs glowed, they were all embedded with different spells. Ten people, with weapons, that were enchanted. So, his chances weren't great.

Tony grasped his dagger under his cloak, slightly comforted by the hum it let out under his fingers. It was enchanted with the same power as the arc reactor, but it wouldn't be enough to fight off all these people. He was an idiot. He should've let Rhodey come with him or something. Happy maybe as well. The chances of people messing with him, or even just going down this stupid alleyway in the first place were so much lower with one of them around.

"Alright, cut the shit," the same man said again, his voice harsh and no-nonsense. He was clearly the leader, which was reinforced when the other men converged on Tony when the man made a signal with his hand. Tony didn't know what it meant, probably some secret code just for this group or something, "Put your weapons down and then put your hands in the air."

"See, I'd prefer if we--"

He was cut off by a sharp hit to the chest, almost knocking him over, and he had to keel over to catch his breath. The spell he'd been hit with had been a bright white, clearly just a typical blast spell, but strong and effective enough to make him throw his dagger to the ground, it landing with a clatter and immediately being snatched up by someone.

"Empty out your pockets too," the man in charge ordered, but Tony just shrugged, showing his hands.

"I don't have anything."

"Bullshit! You're the king!"

"Who went out for a day on the town and bought a bunch of flowers for his wife. Which, please don't destroy those. It would hurt worse than a stab through the heart."

"Oh, yeah?"

Tony really should learn to keep his fucking mouth shut.

"If you don't have money on you, I'm sure someone in the castle who does will gladly give us theirs in exchange for you." God Pepper was going to be so pissed, "Hands on your head and you won't get hurt."

Tony obliged with a heavy glare, and one of the guy's goons approached him, a faintly glowing chain in their hands. Just as they got near enough to grab his hand, he lashed out with a punch to the face. The man stumbled back immediately, falling down as Tony felt his nose break. He held out his other hand and his dagger flew to his hand, the magic imbued in it allowing for it to fling out of the hands of the man who had taken it earlier.

Immediately after the king attacked the thief, the others in the group ran at him, their weapons held aloft threateningly. Tony threw punch after punch, holding back his attackers as best he could. He was a good fighter, trained from a young age how to defend himself, but he wasn't powered by some stupid magic flower like Steve was, so he couldn't take on ten guys by himself and expect to come away victorious.

He took punch after punch, feeling his lip split and his face bruise as he was beat around. Even with the enchanted knife he held, he was no match for the amount of people, so after a few minutes, he ended up on the ground, taking painful kicks to his face and chest. Every blow was like a reminder of his stupidity, of how stupid he was to think he could go out in the city alone, that he could carry out a war with no repercussions, that maybe he could break the curse that haunted him every single night--

A loud crash broke him from his thoughts, and he opened his eyes--he hadn't even realized he'd closed them--to see everyone looking at the end of the alleyway. He couldn't see what was happening from where he was slumped down on the ground, but the flash of white caught his attention. A white rope wrapped around the person closest to him's arm, pulling the man away from Tony and towards whatever was at the end of the alleyway. He'd never seen a rope quite like the one that kept grabbing onto the men near him, completely white and shining brightly. It was clearly some sort of spell.

As the men around him cleared, some being pulled away and others rushing off to fight the newcomer, he was able to make out the figure that had saved them. They were small, ridiculously small, throwing punches and flipping around the place crazily. They wore a hood and a mask that covered the lower half of their face, and they were dressed in a short red cloak that barely made it past their chest in the front, but draped out into a fitted cloak in the back.

Tony leaned heavily against the wall as he forced himself up, the sounds of the fight growing more desperate and hurried as he did. His "savior" was clearly getting overwhelmed, their quick moves and multitude of spells failing against the still six men standing. Taking in a gulping breath, the king summoned his dagger again, throwing it at the nearest man and then calling it back when it sliced through the man's skin. The stranger knocked the man out with a swift spell, and the two of them worked together quickly to take down everyone else.

With their combined efforts, the tide of the fight was turned quickly. Though he felt it was mostly the stranger pulling his weight, since he was old, and already hurt, and non-magical save for the arc reactor tucked into his chest. Which he was reminded of when, while fighting with a man, a sword sliced through his leg.

He immediately stumbled, taking a punch to the face as he lost his footing. He let out a pained grunt as he dropped, and then more men were on him. Hitting and pulling and clearly ready too take him hostage. But then they were gone. Almost all at once they were blown away, a burst of red magic blasting at them. The men howled with pain as the magic touched them, but it didn't come near Tony. Just passed harmlessly over him.

The king looked up to see the stranger rushing to him, their red cloak flying out behind them as the knelt down in front of where he was leaning heavily against the wall clutching his leg.

"Hey," he panted, "Thanks for the assist."

The stranger nodded hastily, and then there fingers began glowing blue. Red magic, and now blue magic. Well, now he knew where the magic was coming from at least.

Mumbling something he couldn't make out, the stranger placed their hands over the wound on his leg. He watched as it began stitching itself up in front of him, white threads glowing and similar to the magical rope from earlier repairing his skin. He hissed in pain as it did, but at least the bleeding was stopping. And in barely a few minutes, there was nothing but a thin pink scar.

"Jeez, thanks. You've got some pretty impressive magic there," he complimented, beginning to stand, but they grabbed arms as he stumbled, and their mask fell, exposing their face.

A kid. She was a kid. With curly hair and wide eyes and a dusting of freckles.

Tony gaped at her in shock. She looked so young, fifteen at the oldest, with a bruise blossoming around her eye. What was most shocking about her age was how well she had fought, how deftly she had used magic--like it was nothing. Teenagers could barely pull off a light spell, much less blasts and magical ropes he'd never seen before.

Noticing her mask had fallen, she swore, placing it back over her face, her eyes darting from side to side clearly looking for an escape. He held out a placating hand. He didn't want her to leave. She was a kid. A crazily powerful kid who was shifting between cursing and blessing the land and was clearly not doing well, if her thin frame and sunken in cheeks were anything to go by.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. You're fine," he said, testing out his leg dramatically, "Thanks for fixing my leg. My wife will probably want to thank you too." She stayed silent looking at him, and he hesitated before gesturing at her bruised eye, "Are you okay?"

"Nothing that won't heal," she replied.

"I don't know, that's a pretty nasty bruise. It heals a bit differently than a stab wound. Maybe you should come by the castle."

"What? Why?" she said, her voice hostile.

"Not to arrest you, kid. I mean to more get some fresh food, a place to sleep, maybe a couple of gold bars as thanks at the very least for saving me."

"I don't need money."

Tony looked her up and down a little, taking in her thin and ragged appearance.

"Well, you could still stay for the night. It's cold."

She took a step back, much to his confusion, "It was nice to meet you, King Anthony."

Without another word, she jumped onto the wall behind him, and Tony watched in amazement as she grabbed onto the wall and crawled up it, leaping up onto the house and disappearing over the roof.

"Hey, wait!" he called, but she was already gone. He'd been saved by a child, who could control her powers, and could climb up walls. Hoping she was still in earshot, he yelled, "The castle will welcome you if you need help!"

---

Tony didn't stop looking for that kid, and he didn't know what it was, but in the few minutes he'd known her, he'd gotten attached. He'd sent out guards looking for her, kept a closer eye on the reports of strange magic, and alerted the castle staff to help anyone matching her description and alert him of it, but it was still a month before he found her again.

It was raining, hard. Thunder pouring from the clouds in waves and crashing against his window. His candle flickered at a strong gust of wind, and he pulled the cloak--this time red and gold and much more fit for a kind--tighter around his shoulders at the chill as he continued to read by the candle light.

It was a report about the magic, this time people had spotted the girl, and he was sure it was her. Brown hair, small, young, and a dirty cloak with multiple patches. It had to be her, and he had to find her. But by the time he'd sent out guards and they'd gotten there a few towns over, she'd be gone, he was sure.

There was a knock at his door, and Tony jumped at the sudden intrusion, clearing his throat and telling whoever it was to enter. An older maid he didn't know the name of--Mary, he thought--came through the door, looking determined.

"Your Majesty," she greeted, and he nodded.

"Good evening, well, night I guess. What can I do for?" he asked, standing up from his chair and grabbing his crown from where it had sat on the table beside his papers.

"Well, sire, a girl showed up at the doors tonight. She's in the kitchen right now, but she matches your description and I just thought--"

"Take me to her."

Mary led him down the hallways to the kitchen, and when he stepped inside the always warm room, he stopped. It was her. Definitely that little punk kid who had saved his ass. She was thinner somehow, shivering violently under a thick wool blanket as a cook tried to offer her a steaming hot stew.

She looked up as he entered the room, her teeth chattering as she said, "H-hi, Your Majesty."

"Call me Tony, kid," he offered, stepping closer, "You gonna take up my offer."

"Just for the night."

"Stay as long as you want, kid."

#whumptober2020 #Iron Man #spiderman #female peter parker #irondad #irondad fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

laur-rants · 4 years

Text

Transfiguration -- Ch 2: Better

Fandom: Doom Rating: Mature, because violence against demons Pairing: Sam/Slayer [eventually] Summary: There’s definitely still some strain going on here. AO3 Link Previous Chapter: Next Chapter

------------

Hayden paces Room 235, his long legs taking him the distance of the extended, decorative table in the center of the room in only half a dozen steps. He looks down at the ingrained wood; in stark contrast to the clean, geometric blue and white of the building, the table was actually two halves of a dark, rust-colored trunk, with the gap between the halves connected and filled with a golden epoxy. His optics traced the intricate designs; every flaw in the wood, every knot, every bore had been filled with the striking gold, making the near-black finish look as if it was bleeding rivers of molten fire. Every imperfection, perfected and made all the more beautiful for it.

Hayden runs two of his right arm's four spidery, cybernetic fingers along the table, testing their sensitivity. He detects the smooth finish, the work of the expert who designed the furniture-- but also, there is the imperceptible sensation of the tree's rings, the story of its life laid bare under the sealant. He brings those same fingers back up to his chin, resting them there in a thoughtful manner-- a painfully human thing to do, Hayden decides, and his hand drops unceremoniously to his side.

It's five minutes past the hour (and 47 minutes after his original message was sent) when the sealed and reinforced glass doors to the meeting room finally slide open with a hiss. Hayden's attention turns from the table instead to a person he hasn't seen face to face in over a decade: the Hell Walker, the Unchained Predator, the Doom Slayer. A reputation that preceded someone who was, in reality, just a single man, cursed millennia ago to face Hell alone, blessed by angels to make sure his rage was honed into the deadliest spear. The imperfect… perfected.

Today, however, he just looks tired and maybe a touch annoyed that Hayden called him here.

"Ah, Slayer," Hayden starts, his voice cool and unbothered. "Thank you for making it on short notice. I had figured you'd get tired of that hospital bed soon enough; did the doctors treat you well, at least?"

Slayer says nothing, as expected. He appears to have only brought half of the Praetor Suit with him, perhaps due to the tender bandages covering his body. His arms and torso and head are exposed, but his Praetor boots and belt remain. At the mention of doctors, Slayer's lip curls and he looks away. He decides against moving from the doorway, instead allowing the huge table to act like a chasm between the him and Hayden.

"I'll take the bandages as a good sign, then," Hayden continues, ignoring the strained atmosphere. "Nobody goes up against the Icon of Sin without retaining a few injuries along the way. Not even the Destroyer himself."

Slayer's face distorts in disgust, as well as another, hard-to-place emotion (is it confusion?). The cyborg tilts his head a half a degree, studying the man as analytically as possible. Hayden's HUD calls up Slayer's vitals; aside from the re-stitched and bandaged lacerations, he was perfectly healthy. Nothing to worry about, per usual. When Slayer shifts, Hayden refocuses on his face, anticipating a response-- instead the man just leans against the door frame, arms crossed, eyes bored. Hayden sighs; of course Slayer's being stubborn as always, so he takes the initiative, walking around the conference table in the middle of the room, tapping a button at the corner closest to Slayer. It brings up a hologram of what appears to be Earth, with demon hotspots zones marked, though they all look dramatically reduced in size.

"I am glad you're up and about, though. You may not care, but there's much to be done that you could still help with. This Earth has barely begun to heal itself but luckily it is, just like humanity, extremely resilient."

This Earth. Hayden keeps an eye on him, but Slayer doesn't even flinch at the clear distinction. He breathes a sigh of relief that neither of them feel like beating around that particular bush today.

A few more button presses bring up the Moon, and, more distressing, a shattered image of Mars.

"Luna and Mars are both of another issue. With the Icon gone, most forces are being called back to Hell on the Earth's surface meaning humanity can recolonize. Anyone directly connected to the Deags or UAC's Tier 3 recruitment are being located and incarcerated. But Luna remains dust in space, and personnel on Phobos are still scrambling with the remaining demonic forces and the new gigantic scar quite visible on Mars' surface. Luckily for you--" Hayden tilts his head in mild irritation towards the Slayer for emphasis "--your heroic actions means you won't be charged nor will you be pursued for the permanent damage done to the red planet." Hayden says that last part with dripping annoyance, and the Slayer has enough gall to grin in response, as if to say "who would be stupid enough to try and pursue me, anyway?"

"Don't give me that look, Doom Slayer," Hayden chides, but the sly smirk doesn't falter. "Mars will never be the same. Perhaps it is for the better… Argent energy is, for the most part, gone. It can still be manufactured here in a man-made capacity, but it will soon require the Crucible to make the process continuous; however, it is still powering the Fortress of Doom. It is possible humanity could regain access to Argent by reforging your blade on Argent D'Nur. I'm sure the Fortress can access that world, when you are well enough to we can--"

The Doom Slayer clears his throat.

The sound cuts Hayden off completely. He looks over, hearing that ragged noise without really registering what it meant, not really, not until Slayer rumbles out another sound before--

"Samur. Shut up."

The silence hangs as Hayden appears to obediently listen to Slayer's command. He stands up straighter, rocking back on a mechanical heel, but Slayer's gaze doesn't waver. Hayden breaks the contact first, a weakness he is sure Slayer will use to his advantage. But what else could he do but take a moment? That was a name he had not heard spoken in millennia. It was a title lost to time, a title Hayden had nearly forgotten, and almost wished he hadn't remembered in the first place.

It left him suitably silenced.

"Ah, of course." He starts, recomposing himself. "I should have expected you to realize, given enough time and interaction, who I was, or used to be." It wasn't a true facade-- this name, this body, the escape to this planet --but he wasn't fit to discuss it, not yet. Not when Slayer had already figured the truth of the matter, and he wasn't clear of all the details himself. That didn't stop images flashing by-- of racing stars, of violent dismemberment, of feeling his atoms pull apart and back together again and again--

"Information on Urdak," he continues, his even tone belying his passing internal turmoil, "is limited on this planet, if not completely non-existent outside of unreliable religious text. For us to finish our mission you needed to know everything I knew, and being directly connected to Maykr technology only enhanced what I already knew, gave greater clarity." The robot shifted on his legs, acutely remembering how he had been without those specific limbs not too long ago.

Slayer, however, shakes his head, grunting in annoyance. Even being most of the way out of his armor, even when more than three feet of height separated Hayden from Slayer, that did not stop the man's physique from radiating power and intimidation.

"Before," the Marine manages, his voice still a ruined mess. Perhaps something happened to it in Hell, Hayden hypothesizes. There's no way it was from back then, with the Sentinels. They enjoyed your war cry far too much to ever... Hayden pushes those intrusive thoughts from his mind as, somehow, Slayer continues. "Back when I woke up." His eyes dart to Hayden, look him over, and his expression goes steely.

"Liked you better, before."

Something in Slayer's tone hits Hayden personally. Before. Back when he was still Samur Maykr, back when maykr and demon called him Seraphim, back when Argent D'Nur wasn't destroyed for the sake of energy and power. It was filled with a strange nostalgia, one that pulls at a string in Hayden that was long-since cut and left to fray. Still, he manages a leveled response.

"I only wanted to help them, you know," Samur -- no, he was Samuel now, and never before had he misstepped on his own name, not until Slayer had said it himself, in that accusing tone -- retorts, holding ground. Hayden's voice is still rough and mechanical, but the defensive edge laces every word. "I found an Earth, I saw what they discovered, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it led to demons as well as to you--"

Slayer heavily frowns and he coughs out a rough growl before looking away. He's quick to head back out the door he came in from, gaining physical distance from Hayden as his Praetor boots thudded heavily against the surgical tile.

A feeling of panic strong enough to spike a system warning message overcomes Hayden's HUD and his cyborg body begins to follow Slayer of it's own accord.

"This world-- you are not a constant, Slayer," He argues. "They were doomed to be swallowed whole, just like your Deimos, just like parts of Argent D'Nur, just like countless nameless realms and worlds. I had to stay, emulate you while I searched, while I tried to do better than--"

Slayer stomps away, faster now, but Hayden's longer, tireless legs are moving, closing the gap quickly as Hayden makes the cardinal mistake of reaching out to touch an exposed shoulder.

Slayer snarls, grabbing Hayden's hand and twisting it. His eyes are flashing as the hand the Slayer crushes spurts electricity, the long metallic fingers crunched in his palm. The same sensors trained to register the subtle changes in wood grain now scream in a form of pain, lighting up his visual array. The fire in Slayer's eyes burn with anger and Hayden realizes too late his egregious miscalculation.

"Using that energy… I would have never…" Slayer can barely get the sentence out before his vocal cords are working against him, causing a cough so strong he has to look away. The menace soon returns, however; the hand is mangled again, shoved away from the accosted shoulder so hard it nearly falls off Hayden's arm. The cyborg just stares, watchful and expressionless.

"You are not better, not anymore," Slayer rasps, only getting the spitting rebuke out on a whispered exhale. Then he's turning away, his throat roughly clearing, before resuming his march. The doctors and technicians he passes all turn to stop and look at him but he pays them no mind as he stomps off towards his room. Many of them soon rush to Hayden, still standing in the hallway outside Room 235.

Why had he even called Slayer there in the first place? Surely it wasn't it have this sort of outcome take place. Hayden's systems scream at him, flashing red in his peripheral. His arm was losing functions; Slayer must have cut a fuel line to the lower limb. He's dimly aware of a technician nearby, already running diagnostics, already saying something along the lines of "are you ok sir, let us just check this over, we'll have a replacement ready for you in--"

He waves off the ARC employee and turns to walk away.

Better. What did the Slayer mean, saying he wasn't 'better'? His actions have saved this Earth, saved humanity, and in time, would free his own people of corruption and let them be born anew. Wasn't all of that the outcome Slayer wanted, too? Doesn't this make all of those sacrifices worth it? Hayden wasn't looking for praise, no, but was a little acknowledgement for what they'd both accomplished too much to ask for?

He should've known the Slayer's trust wasn't so easily won over.

------

[Taras Nabad, ??? Years ago]

He is standing on the outer wall of Teras Nabad (one of the greatest Sentinel cities, he's come to learn), watching on as the inner wall begins to burn. A huge, hulking form relentlessly attacks the city, lit in the darkness of early morning by the fires of its own destruction. It tosses it's giant, horned head, the Hell essence falling from its eyes like molten tears, and the roar it emits pierces the very heavens.

The man known to the Argent people only as Slayer clenches his fists at the sight before him. His hands are begging for a demonic throat to close around, if only to calm the torrential wave of memory-induced anger threatening to drown him. Of all the fights, of everything that he has borne witness to, living a hundred lives in a personal purgatory…

That Titan. He could not defeat it. For the first time, his rage alone was not enough.

He had seen Titans in Hell before, of course, but it was always in passing, and always from a distance. He dreamt (if one could call the feverish vision he had, dreams) of ripping them asunder with his own fists, of finding creative ways to murder them, just like the rest. Perhaps he would end up being swallowed, fighting his way out, bursting with his shotgun with huge guts flying asunder. Or perhaps saw off their horns, drive in the spikes ruining their body, crashing them down into the Hell energy they themselves created. No matter the fashion, there was always a way. He reveled in the challenge of actually finding it..

But now, the challenge is before him and it is a difficult pill to swallow; Slayer, the unstoppable force, could not budge this gigantic immovable object.

He turned from the sight, finding it hard to witness another city he called home fall to demons. As the Night Sentinels he fought with found a moment of sleep, he remained restless, constantly on alert, the wheels turning too loudly in his head to bring him peace. For the first time in so many realms and so many worlds, he felt… despair. It left his mouth tasting like cinders and ash.

"You sure do take the title Night Sentinel to heart," drones a deep, ethereal voice, and Slayer turns to his right. He is startled but unsurprised to see the hooded figure of the Seraphim watching him from the shadow of the bridge tower. Slayer manages to roll his eyes and beckons the Maykr over; the Seraphim only hesitates a moment before finally relenting. He is robed in red, a robe he donned specifically for moments like this, the hood obscuring his face and his intentions. As he nears Slayer, he hesitates again, pulling the hood back only when the coast is deemed clear. The Seraphim's face was slightly different from the others of his kind, more individual than the angels and their militaristic uniformity. No, his metallic Maykr mask gleams softly even in the dark, four eyes sharp and glowing, the crescent of energy upon his forehead reminiscent of the orb held within the Mother Khan herself. Though he was close to the same height of Slayer, he floated a few feet above the ground and his body whirred softly as mechanical armor worked in perfect tandem with the tentacled flesh hiding just underneath.

Slayer smiles. It is brief and does not reach his eyes. "And you really need to shut up, Samur."

The name prompts a grin from the Maykr, as if the line is a long-standing joke between them. Samur watches Slayer, carefully, unblinking, then turns to observe the monster befalling the city. Such a huge set piece, it almost felt unreal. Here was the end the world, and at the rate the titan was moving, it would claim it by morning.

There is a silence that hangs between man and angel for a while before Samur turns to Slayer and says plainly, "I do not have much time. You know this."

Slayer nods, then swallows. "I cannot kill the beast," he confesses, and it sounds so much worse aloud than in his head. "All my tricks, my weapons… I can't rip this beast asunder. It sees my rage, my fury...and ignores it."

Samur is quiet, listening to Slayer, with an unmoved expression, but even his alien calculation appears to register the Slayer's bittersweet emotion. There is something else there, and it maykr turn and watch Slayer carefully.

"You can't possibly be considering defeat?" Samur asks, near incredulous.

"No, not like that. I can't run... I will… I will die fighting it. There is nothing else for it." He looks down, his muscular frame deflated. "This was an inevitability, Samur. I knew in my heart this would happen. I will go down fighting these monsters and my dying breath will be the final assault. It will be an end I will be proud of. I just…" his eyes soften.

"You just what?" asks that graveled whale song, followed by that imperceptible head tilt.

"I just need to be better," he mutters softly. "But I'm only a man. I'm mortal. And no single mortal can bring down something like that."

Samur remains silent and Slayer grows impatient as the helpless seconds tick by. He paces the wall, watching as the beast screams out in tormented defiance.

"I do have a plan of attack," Slayers gets out in a rush as his body pumps him with frenetic adrenaline. "But the sentinels all know it's just a suicide run at this point. We've all agreed and accepted it. We will flank in the morning, and hope to divert it's attention while the western parts of the city evacuate. Then--"

"Slayer."

"--we will do out best to swarm it, and herd it. It can ignore me, but it cannot ignore a coordinated strike. Pushing it towards the center of the City will crowd it, and allow people to escape to--"

"Slayer!"

The Slayer stops. He looks back at this creature, this otherworldly angel, and frowns in confusion, then worry. The maykr's face is expressionless as ever but there is a glaze to his wide eyes; wherever Samur is looking, it is nowhere in the present.

Maykrs were, in many ways, ridiculously alien compared to humans, but not even this weird stunted behavior was normal. Panic grips at the Slayer's heart and he steps forward.

"What?" Slayer asks, suddenly concerned, his fists closing, eyes darting and body sharpening as he prepares to fight. "What's wrong?"

It is a few long moments before Samur can even get close to responding. The metal of his body shines with an unseen light as his fingers twitch and his tentacles thrash from under his robes. Slayer makes a brave decision and touches the maykr, hoping to calm the creature and surprised to find his breath syncing with the maykr's own. He let's go, startled, but the contact seems to be enough to Samur to come to. He focuses on Slayer, his four eyes wide and shining.

"I know what to do." Samur's breathing continues to come fast, and suddenly his clawed hands are shakily pulling his hood back up. "I-- we-- Slayer, it can be done. I can give you what you seek."

There's a stunned silence between them. Slayer's blue eyes narrow as he looks skeptically at the maykr. Then Samur reaches out for him, a strong metallic grip on his shoulders.

"Slayer, I am -- I have seen -- please, do you trust me?"

There is a fraught energy about Samur, an individual usually so composed he could be emotional opposite to Slayer's perpetual energy and intensity. The marine searches Samur's glowing eyes, seeing the thinly veiled terror there, and remembers his earlier words: I don't have much time.

Right now, none of them did. And the clock was still ticking.

Slayer nods. "Yes. I do," he responds. "Tell me, what needs to be done?"

#doom #doom eternal #doom eternal spoilers #post game #sam/slayer #is there a ship tag for that?#fic #my fic #fanfic #my fanfic #starting to form an idea of where this will go #but not all the way yet #we shall seeee #until then get some present vs backstory #long post #read more #transfiguration

13 notes · View notes

nctzendreamz · 5 years

Text

Crazy, Rich, and They Hate Me :: Part Five

Jaehyun x Reader ft NCT

Angst/Fluff

It was officially bachelorette party time, and as much as you didn’t want to be invited, here you were. You were pretty silent as you and Jaehyun sat on a golf cart; you nervous that you were about to be alone with strangers, and him nervous for you. Let’s not forget the elephant in the room that was his mother, who clearly didn’t like you.

Your eyes rested on the beautiful scenery of the ocean, allowing it to calm your nerves. You were able to blank out and just listen to the sound of the waves with your eyes closed. Suddenly, you felt a hand slowly grab yours, rubbing your knuckles. You snapped out of your trance slightly, looking at your boyfriend. He also seemed to be in a trance, but not at the scenery. At you.

[[MORE]]

“You okay?” You whispered, knowing you weren’t mad at him. If anything you were mad at yourself. Clearly you weren’t good enough or his mother would’ve been pleased.

He didn’t speak, but instead pecked your cheek gently, and then pecked your lips. “I’m always okay when I’m with you.”

“I’m nervous.” You avowed. “It’s going to be weird without you.”

“Don’t be. Just show them how amazing you are. Plus, Rosé will be there for you.”

“It’s her bachelorette party, Jae.” You giggled while pinching his cheek. “She’s going to be focused on her friends.”

“I’m so sorr-

You kissed him quickly to calm his concerns. “Baby, I’m just being dramatic. I will be okay, I promise. Just focus on making this Johnny’s best day and have fun. Not too much fun though.” You connected your lips again.

His laugh echoed and made your lips vibrate as the cart slowed, indicating you had arrived at your destination. “You know I’ll always be a good boy for you.” He whispered, peppering kisses all over your face.

“Okay lovebirds.” Johnny’s loud voice yelled, interrupting your flirting. “I promise I’ll bring him back safely.” His pearly whites blinded you.

“Thank you Johnny~” You smiled back brightly.

Jaehyun pressed his forehead to yours in childish annoyance before kissing you once more and allowing Johnny to drag him out. He winked at you, letting it tell you he loved you before he dissapeared around the corner.

Now it was just you, and your brain didn’t know what to do. Should you try to talk to someone? Were you even capable of that? You grabbed the beach bag that sat on the back of the golf cart, placing it on your shoulder.

“That is such a cute bag.” A light voice said, carressing it gently.

When you looked up, you were met with an extremely beautiful girl. Her skin glowing even though the sunlight was not currently shining in the area. Her smile was perfect, and her hair was long. “Thank you.” You were just happy that someone was talking to you. That was more than you thought you would get. “You are absolutely goregeous.”

“Well, I can say the same for you.” There was a short silence before she spoke again. “Yuna.” She smirked, placing her hand out to shake. “And you’re the famous Y/N? Right?”

“That’s me.” You said in an awkward tone. “Am I really the talk of the town these days?” You sighed.

“Don’t look at it as a bad thing, darling.” She tapped your chin. “Enjoy the spotlight.”

All you could do was laugh, following her lead to the rest of the girls. You didn’t know what you were doing today, but you were sure it would be lavish considering your boyfriend was on his way to a yacht party.

..................

Music was blasting, girls were everywhere, and Jaehyun was currently watching his cousins take multiple shots.

“You guys sure are drinking a lot.” He commented slyly as he watched the groom to be take a shot as well.

“Oh don’t get all uppity on us now, Jung Jaehyun.” Lucas slurred. “Let’s not pretend you didn’t get drunk basically every night and hook up with any girl you saw when you were at university.”

Jaehyun gasped in fake offense.

“I can confirm being drunk every night was true, but Jaehyun could never hook up with any girls.” Johnny laughed.

“So he’s been a nerd all his life.” Haechan snorted, causing everyone to burst out into laughter.

Yuta fought to catch his breath. “First of all, nerds get pussy, not Jaehyun, but you know.”

“It wasn’t because of that.” Johnny corrected. “It was just because Jaehyun is all romantic and stuff. He was trying to love them, not take their innocence.”

Everyone pouted in a plastic manner minus Taeyong, laughing once again.

Haechan placed a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “How cute. Speaking of, Y/N is really cute.”

“Hell yeah.” Lucas raved. “How did you end up getting to hit that? Is it good?”

“Hey.” Jaehyun spoke up, eyeing the younger one deeply. “Watch your mouth.”

“Yeah Lucas, maybe you’ve reached your limit.” Johnny defended, taking his drink and finishing it for him.

“What?”

“Clearly Y/N isn’t a random hookup, dumbass.” Taeyong spoke.

“I didn’t say she was, I just asked what we all wanted to know.”

“While we do want an answer to that question, I think the real question is how does your mom feel about her?”

“Why would my mom feel any way about her?”

“Uh, everyone has looked Y/N up and you know what comes up? Nothing.” Haechan said.

“And?”

“And, you already know how this family works. I mean I brought home the daughter of the richest hotel owner in South Korea; he owns a share if not full of literally every single one minus like ten, and my parents were barely impressed. What does Y/N do?”

“She’s a hairstylist.” Jaehyun trailed off.

Lucas spit out his drink. “A what?”

“He didn’t stutter.” Taeyong said.

“What is your problem, Taeyong?”

“My problem is the fact that all this family does is judge other people instead of worrying about themselves.”

“You’re only saying that because your family doesn’t approve of you making video games.”

“Fuck you.”

“Look, Taeyong literally sits in cash, so let’s not hate on him.” Yuta interrupted before things got serious. “But I’m serious, Jaehyun. I don’t believe this girl is using you for money or anything, but how are you going to run your dads company while she sits at home and barely makes enough to provide?”

“I can provide for her. Why are you acting like we’re not the richest family in this country?”

“It’s not about that and you know it. Our mother’s hate a woman who isn’t swimming in cash and you know that. And if she just doesn’t work? Phew.”

Johnny could see his cousins frustration, and knew he had enough of this conversation. “Guys, let’s not forget that it’s one of my last days as a free man. Plus, I like Y/N. She’s a lot cooler than any of the girls you’ve brought home.”

“Yeah whatever.” Lucas sighed. “With that body, I would be struggling to leave her too.”

Jaehyun was up as soon as the words left his mouth, and Johnny struggled to hold him back. “Alright, that’s enough let’s go!”

“No! Let me go.”

“It’s not worth it, Jae.” Johnny whispered. Suddenly he realized he needed to calm down and leave. The two of them went to another area.

“Fucking idiot.” Taeyong scoffed at Lucas, getting up to go back to the bar.

.........................

The big surprise was a free shopping spree and a full spa day, curtesy of Johnny’s mom. By the time you got to the rack, a lot of the good things were gone, but you still picked up a nice dress. After you placed your dress on your temporary bed, you prepared yourself for a massage. You spotted Yuna and her friends already getting theirs, so you figured you could take the table beside hers.

There was a weird silence when you showed up, but you figured it was your brain playing tricks on you. As you laid down for your massage, you wanted to try and be more social. “So, did you get anything good off the rack?”

“That rack is incomparable to my suitcase, girl.” She laughed, turning her head to look at you.

“Well I can’t relate.” You laughed with her, already feeling the ice break.

“It’s okay. Not everyone can be a fashionista. You have your own style and it’s cool.”

“Thank you.” You said sincerely. “I never asked you, who are you related to? Jaehyun or Rosé?”

She laughed again, this time differently. “I’m not related to either one of them. I’ve known Rosé since I was a little girl, but I’m actually more close to Jaehyun’s family as I am his ex girlfriend and all. God, that boy stole my heart. His parent even wanted us to get married.”

You froze in place, not knowing how to feel or what to say. Why did everyday get worse and worse? “Ex girlfriend?” Was all you could manage.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Really?”

“Not a lick.”

“Guess your relationship isn’t as good as ours was. He used to tell me everything. Literally even the smallest things.” She giggled as well as the rest of her friends before getting up and walking away.

You thought Jaehyun told you everything, but now you realized you were wrong. Now you had to deal with his wannabe meangirl for an ex girlfriend, and on top of that you were back to square one with nobody to talk to. How could you let her play you like that? Usually you could see a snake from a mile away. Damnit, all you wanted to do was call Jaehyun and vent to him, even though it was him you were mad at.

You decided it would be a good idea to lay down, try to calm down before the bonfire tonight since you couldn’t leave. You walked in your room with your eyes closed, horrified when you saw the bed covered in fake blood, with “broke bitch!” spray painted in red on the headboard to put the icing on the cake. Suddenly you heard the door opening, and Yuna, as well as her other bullies were laughing at you.

“Did you really think I wanted to be friends with you? A poor girl from Los Angeles that thinks she can keep Jung Jaehyun? Worse, thinks Jung Jaehyun will actually keep her? Biggest joke I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Get out.” You said taking deep breaths.

“Gladly.” Was all she said before leaving.

You closed your eyes, trying to remember every technique possible to not cry. Unfortunately tears rolled down your eyes, but you refused to let your chest cave. You wouldn’t let her get to you, nor would you leave. You were raised to be stronger than this.

You stayed in your room until it was time for the bonfire.

........................

The yacht party had ended, leaving everyone to go their separate ways minus Johnny and Jaehyun. The two of them sat on a wooden log bed that sat in the ocean as they watched the sunset together. It always felt better like this, and it was a bittersweet feeling as they both knew it would be the last time in a while. The orange and yellow made their skin shine, personifying the happiness they felt. Well Johnny felt. Jaehyun wanted to be happy, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to you.

“Remember when we used to do this all the time as kids?” Johnny questioned.

“Yeah.” Jaehyun chuckled. “We used to think we were pirates keeping watch of our country.”

“We were so cool.”

“The coolest.”

The two continued to overlook the wildlife, and Jaehyun took a swig of his beer.

“You’re not okay, are you?”

Jaehyun looked down at his toes, trying to find a good distraction from his thoughts. “I don’t think I am.”

“What’s bothering you?”

“We can’t do this, man.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about me. None of this is about me.”

“Seeing you this upset isn’t making me happy though, bro. If anything, knowing you talked to someone will make me feel a lot better. I know the guys said a lot of dumb things today.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, have you told her about the business yet? How are you going to work here, while she goes back to LA? Have you thought about it?”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I should just do what my parents want.” Jaehyun said, not even believing his mouth right now. He knew they weren’t right. He knew he couldn’t lose you.

“You don’t mean that.” Johnny corrected. “You’re just angry. You’re angry that they can’t accept her. You’re angry because you didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“Am I wrong for that though? Was it foolish of me? You can say I’m blinded by my love for her, but in reality what has she done? She’s been trying so hard to make everyone happy and come out of her shell just to be treated like less than by my own mother? The one person who’s approval matters the most to her?”

“I know.”

“She was so excited to come here with me Johnny. So excited. She couldn’t wait to meet you, and Rosé, and experience this country with me and I can’t even stand up to my own mother for her? What type of man am I?”

“You’re a man who loves his mother. Who doesn’t know who’s side to choose because on one hand, you have the woman that raised you, and two the woman you love. I know I can’t relate because Rosé was excepted into my family pretty easily, but I understand having to choose. It’s hard.”

“That’s the thing, Johnny. It’s not hard at all. I choose Y/N. I can’t imagine a life without her. I love her so much.” He whispered, touching his wrist until he found the beaded bracelet you made for him a while ago. It always helped him calm down.

“Enough to marry her?”

Jaehyun dug in his pocket, pulling out a velvet box and opening it, revealing the engagement ring he had purchased the first night you two arrived here.

“More than enough.”

The two of them stared at eachother before embracing one another in a tight hug.

“Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life. Ever.”

“I’m so happy for you. So happy.”

.....................

You sat on the beach, watching everyone enjoy themselves while you couldn’t wait to go back home. It was almost time, you could survive.

“You okay?” You heard Rosé say, her Aussie accent thick with concern.

“Perfect.” You whispered, your chin resting on your knees.

“I heard about what happened today in your room. I’m so sorry for that. I feel horrible.”

“Not your fault. I figured you didn’t know all fifty of us on a personal level.” You joked, getting a laugh out of her.

“Honestly, I’m pretty sure you’re my only friend here.” She confessed, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Well I won’t deny that I’m your friend.” You smiled. “But what makes you think that? I’m sure you have at least five people that truly love you. You’re so sweet.”

“Yeah, but what if I wasn’t me?” Her eyes were locked on the body of water. “You know? What if I was just a normal girl, no rich parents, not about to marry Johnny Suh, none of that.”

“You’re a normal girl even with those things. Anybody who tries to hold you to a higher expectation just because you come from a wealthy family doesn’t deserve to have you. It’s nothing wrong with being a normal person and doing normal people things like staying in bed all day, watching Netflix until you fall asleep, stuffing your face. And if you want to shop until you drop, wear expensive clothes, it doesn’t matter. Just be yourself. Don’t let anyone put you in a box and you damn sure better not let any of these girls make you feel like if you’re not bragging about your wealth, you’re not worth it. You’re better than that.” You rubbed her knee affectionately. “Plus, Johnny doesn’t love you for your status. I can see if in the way he looks at you.”

“Wow.” She sniffed, wiping a tear from her eye. “I see why Jaehyun is so in love with you.”

“I hope he is.”

“You think he isn’t?”

“I think he is, but I also think he isn’t thinking at all. He’s just living in the moment and I’m waiting for the day he drops me like the bad habit I am. I mean, if his own mother doesn’t like me, how is this going to work?”

“I think we’ve both had enough of this party.” She sighed, placing a head on your shoulder.

“Agreed.”

“You know Y/N, when all of this is said and done, I would love for us to still talk. I don’t want you to leave and I never see you again. It would also suck to lose such a good friend.”

“I promise if you will.” You stuck your pinkie out, and she latched on.

“You have my word.”

....................

You sat on the couch inside of the building where you were originally dropped off at, waiting for Jaehyun to come pick you up. Yesterday had been a long day, and all you wanted to do was sleep until it was time for the wedding. That was a lot of sleep, but you needed it. You tossed and turned all night. You felt something cold on your neck, and turned around to find the familiar face of your boyfriend looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.” You whispered, wanting a kiss from him, but remembering you’re mad. You could see he noticed this, but still kissed you anyway, feeling your lips didn’t move.

He moved to sit on the couch with you. “What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Yuna?”

His eyebrows scrunched up, as they always did when he was nervous.

“I just...I don’t know. Was she there yesterday? Damnit.” He whispered to himself.

“She wasn’t just there.” You huffed. You took the smoothie, taking a long sip of it. Of course it was your favorite. He always knew what to do even when he didn’t know you were mad at him. “She made me feel so stupid, and to put the icing on the cake, she trashed my room. She put fake blood on the bed and called me a broke bitch.” You sighed resting your head on his shoulder.

“Are you serious?” You could hear the anger in his voice.

“I wish I wasn’t. Why am I not good enough, huh? What is it? I know I’m not rich, and I know I’m not up to the standards of anyone here but I love you. Shit.”

He couldn’t speak, trying to process everything he just heard. “I’m sorry.” He finally said. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Yuna. And I’m sorry about not telling you I was rich. And I’m sorry that you’ve hated every second of being here. This is not what I wanted at all. And you damn sure are the standard. I hate myself for doing this.”

“Hey.” Your voice was soft as you talked to him. “I know you didn’t mean it in a malicious way. I understand.”

“I just...” he rubbed the nape of your neck softly, encouraging you to drink some more of your smoothie. “Do you regret coming here with me? Do you regret being with me?”

“No, Jae.” Your eyes locked with his. “Mama didn’t raise no weak bitch.” That got a small smile out of him, but he was clearly upset. “Is it hard that your family sees me as the poor girl? Yes. Did it hurt to get treated how I was treated today? Absolutely. But I’d do it all over again if it meant I still had you at the end of the day.”

“Why are you so perfect?”

“Well, I’m with the closest definition of perfect pretty much everyday. Plus, that Yuna girl is jealous of me anyway. She’s a sad woman.”

“That doesn’t make it right. I promise I will handle her.” He kissed you again, this time you kissed him back. “What can I do to make it up to you, huh? I’ll do anything, you know that. A movie night? Fries with extra ketchup? Tell me and I’ll give it.

“You can tell me about you two. According to her, your parents wanted you two to get married.”

He rolled his eyes, bringing you closer to him. “I dated her when I was 21 years old. She was mean to everyone so I dumped her. Yes, my parents wanted me to marry her, but only because she’s rich. That’s all they care about.”

“So they don’t want you to marry me then I assume?”

“I don’t care what they think.”

“Did you just admit you want to marry me?”

Jaehyun stayed quiet, allowing his ears to shine red. “Guess you’ll have to stay and find out, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.” You kissed his neck. “Now back to what I actually want...is you. I just want to be with you as always. What do you want to do?” In reality you were so sleepy, but you could sacrifice.

“I actually have somewhere we can go.” He answered, rubbing your thigh gently.

“And where is that?”

“To go make dumplings with my grandma.”

You sighed in defeat, knowing you wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to socialize no matter how much you wanted to. You had to prove to everyone you loved Jaehyun, and if allowing his family to look at you like they despised you was what needed to be done, so be it.

“Lets go make some dumplings, baby.”

#nct #nct 127 #nct imagine #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct scenario #nct masterlist #nct reaction

181 notes · View notes

vindogy · 4 years

Note

happy prompt: everybody lived, they' re all roommates, it's several years in, everybody's generally worked out their interpersonal issues ( alex included ) , and they all go together to a rowdy screening of a classic bad movie

Everyone is here!!!

Also the obvious choice for the bad movie is The Room but I feel like that’s been beaten to death by now so I’ll do a more niche one

“We could be doing a million other things with our time that are more productive than this.”

Tim stood in an authoritative pose, resting his hands on his hips as he gave the three behind him a disapproving look. Brian instantly grew a wide grin, letting Tim know preemptively that a cheesy quip was coming his way.

“Well Timmy, if you’re up for filing taxes or doing calculus problems, be my guest!”

Jay smiled as well, much to Tim’s disapproval. The group was at a local cinema, getting ready to watch a movie for the first time in years. Though Tim was happy to finally do normal friend group things, he wasn’t content with the movie choice everyone had agreed on. He turned around and stared the person in the booth with absolute contempt. The ticket salesperson awkwardly looked away, hoping that Tim would just get the tickets and leave already. Unfortunately, Tim wasn’t quite ready to let this slide.

“What is everyone else doing?”

Alex piped up, his voice still somewhat lacking the warmth it had all those years ago, but still friendly enough to show Tim that he was truly back to normal.

“Well, Amy’s studying for her finals, Jessica’s doing some shopping down at the strip mall, Seth’s at therapy, and Sarah is… doing Sarah things.”

Tim sighed, slowly realizing that he had no choice but to go through with this movie.

“Sorry Tim, but everyone is go- busy. Everyone is busy.”

Alex blanked out for a second, a look of worry spreading across his face.

“Everyone is busy. That’s what I meant to say. Everyone is busy.”

Alex shuddered as his spaced out expression turned into one of extreme worry. Luckily, Jay had sensed that Alex was beginning to panic.

“It’s alright Alex. Don’t worry, we’re all okay now. C’mon, let’s get some popcorn.”

Jay guided Alex to the concession stand, rubbing his back and reassuring him all the way there. Tim was concerned. He knew it wouldn’t be easy going back to normal after what they’ve all been through, but it still pained him to see reminders of it everywhere he went. He was sure everyone else felt the same. That fateful day was as clear as ever to him. He was so sure that everyone had died, and that all that was left to do was killing Alex.

The final confrontation was horrifying to say the least, and it was immortalized forever by the camera that recorded it all. Right when Alex had him in a choke hold and Tim felt that all hope was lost, a sudden intruder came in and took Alex by surprise. Standing tall, blood dripping from his scalp, and a bloody grin across his face, was Brian. Somehow, he had survived the fall and managed to escape The Operator’s dimension while it was distracted in the fight. Standing behind him was Jessica, who had Jay cradled in her arms. He was pale and unconscious, but still breathing. With Brian’s help, Tim managed to incapacitate Alex and tie him up. The group went to the hospital immediately after, all admitted into emergency care. Alex was still violent and lashing out, and had to be admitted into a psych ward. But to Tim’s absolute shock, the friends he was so sure were gone had all survived. Brian and Jay were hospitalized for their injuries, while Jessica, Tim, and Alex were all admitted to therapy. Brian, however, kept telling the doctors that “there are still more survivors”. By some miracle, Brian had found everyone trapped within The Operator’s dimension, and had pulled out every single one. Seth, Amy, and Sarah were all found alive with severe injuries, but alive nonetheless. Everyone was nursed back to health and admitted to therapy, with Tim recommending that they all take the same medication he did. It was an absolute miracle. After that, The Operator never bothered them again, presumably because it had lost all of it’s victims that it spent so long trying to get. Tim never knew what happened after that. Maybe it was off harassing some poor dudes in New Jersey, or maybe it died. He hoped for the latter.

It took one month for Alex to recover. The nurses stated that one day during a violent episode, he dropped to the floor and began crying heavily. He asked if his friends were alive, begging to see them. When he was eventually let out, he gathered everyone and spent an entire day begging for forgiveness and apologizing for what he had done. He especially apologized to Tim for all the torment he was put through. Tim remembered hugging Alex as he cried into his chest, tearing up as well. Not tears of sorrow, though. Tears of relief. From then on, everyone had decided to stay close and live life as best they could. Their relationships were unbreakable because it was forged in hell.

“Hey, Tim-Tam! Wake up!”

Tim looked up, grunting as he was broken from his daydreaming. Brian grabbed his shoulders and shook him around, causing Tim to fully snap out of it, much to his annoyance. He grabbed Brian’s arms firmly and raised them above his head.

“I’m awake. And I told you not to call me that!”

Brian smirked, Tim already knowing exactly what was coming next.

“Whatever you say, Tim-Tam!”

Tim squinted at Brian, before putting on a grin of his own. Without a word, he effortlessly hoisted Brian onto his shoulder. Brian squirmed around, surprised at Tim’s show of strength.

“Alright, alright! Enough with the gun show, tough guy! Movie starts soon!”

Tim obliged, but didn’t put Brian down. He walked over to the counter, Brian still over his shoulder, and placed a twenty dollar bill down.

“Four tickets to Tremors.”

The salesperson hastily gave him the tickets, somewhat intimidated by the fact that he was effortlessly carrying a grown man taller than him over his shoulder.

“E-enjoy the move sir!”

Tim gave him a polite smile before taking the tickets and finally heading towards the cinema. Brian struggled to escape, but Tim had a firm grasp on him. After all, he had quite a but of experience with this.

“C’mon Tim-Tam! How’re you gonna eat popcorn like this?”

Tim continued walking, taking amusement at Brian’s attempts to escape. Jay and Alex immediately took notice when Tim approached. Alex took the chance to make a joke.

“Hey Tim you uh, got a lil something on your shoulder.”

Tim smiled and gave Brian a pat on his butt.

“Yep. He’s little alright.”

“Wh- I’m taller than you???”

Tim let out a laugh at Brian’s response. There was still some time before the movie, which meant more time to mess around. Jay had the same idea. He had gone behind Tim and was feeding Brian popcorn. Tim took notice and turned around. Jay smiled and attempted to feed Tim as well.

“Hey Alex! Come over here for a sec.”

Alex listened and went beside Jay.

“Take his popcorn.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at the strange suggestion, but did so anyway. Jay pouted as he reached to get it back. Perfect. He was distracted. Jay was taken by surprise as he too was hoisted onto Tim’s shoulder. He yelped and attempted to struggle. Alex stood wide eyed at Tim’s amazing yet unnecessary show of strength. A few bystanders stared as well, much to Brian and Jay’s embarrassment.

“Alright tough guy, you made your point. Can you put me down now?”

Tim smiled as he shook his head.

“Nah. I think you guys need some assistance getting to the theater anyways.”

Tim walked towards their theater, not slowed down at all despite carrying two taller men. Alex followed close behind, struggling to carry a few buckets of popcorn and drinks.

People continued to stare as Tim walked into the theater, Brian and Jay still held firmly in his arms. Finally finding a good place to sit, Tim finally let go. The two dropped onto their seats and looked up at Tim. He made an exaggerated show of flexing his biceps at them, before sitting in between them. He draped his arms over the both of them and pulled them in for a hug.

“Alright you little bastards. You wanted this, so you better stay for the entire screening.”

Alex clumsily made his way towards the group, a few kernels dropping from the bucket. Right when everyone thought he would drop it all, he sat himself down, securing every bucket and drink firmly. Brian gave a slow clap, mildly impressed at Alex’s balance.

“Good job buddy. Pass some of that here, will ya?”

Alex handed a bucket over to Brian. He turned over to Tim, shoveling a few handfuls of popcorn into his mouth.

“Hey, Tim-Tam. Take a look around. Y’know what I see? No people!”

Tim turned around. There was nobody else in the theater besides them.

“That’s cool, but what did I say about calling me that?”

Before Tim could react, a handful of popcorn was launched into his face. Wiping it off, he glared at the attacker. Brian was now perched on a seat a few rows away, smug grin on his face and a bucket of popcorn in his arm.

“What you gonna do about it, tough guy?”

Tim sighed as he rolled up his sleeves and stepped over the seats.

“Alright. You wanna play this game, so be it.”

Brian scrambled away as Tim narrowly missed his leg. Another handful of popcorn was thrown his way. Thank god it wasn’t buttered. Tim grunted as he got down on all fours and rushed towards Brian. Brian yelped at the sudden change and ran up even more rows. From below, Jay and Alex were watching the whole thing go down.

“Should we stop them?”

Alex nervously looked at Jay. Jay shook his head and smiled.

“Nah. This is way better than the movie.”

The two ate their popcorn as they watch Brian and Tim play cat and mouse in the large theater. Tim had a hard time grabbing Brian, but if he did, it would be over. Brian was doing a great job pelting Tim with popcorn, but was beginning to run out. He called out to Alex once more.

“Throw me another one!”

Alex paused, then fumbled as he winded his arm back, ready to toss the bucket over. Unfortunately, he never was much of a pitcher. The bucket flew across the air and smacked Brian straight in the face. That one mistake was all Tim needed. Alex winced as he witnessed Tim body slam Brian onto the floor. Before he could ask if they were okay, Tim spoke up.

“Gotcha! Look who’s little now!”

Brian squirmed under his grasp, but was once again unable to escape. He stared up at Tim, who was panting from the sudden physical activity. The two locked eyes, staring at each other for a few moments. Brian finally responded.

“Well, it’s still you.”

Tim frowned and tightened his grip. He stooped closer to Brian’s face.

“I’ll give you one more chance. Take it back or I’ll make you suffer.”

Brian was mildly concerned, but his need to a smug bastard overshadowed any worries he had.

“No.”

Tim sat up and began rolling up his sleeves even higher.

“Alright, you asked for it.”

Jay and Alex heard a sudden scream from Brian. They rushed over as he continued yelling, Alex especially concerned, fearing that an old foe might’ve returned.

“No! Stop! Get off!”

His worried immediately melted away once he heard Brian laughing. Tim had Brian pinned under him and was tickling him, refusing to let him go. Brian gasped as he reached out to Jay, his face red from laughter.

“Jay! You gotta help!”

His pleas were drowned out by more laughter as Tim went for his ribs. Jay decided to instead sit down and continue eating popcorn.

“Sorry man. You got overpowered by Tim-Tam. Now you gotta face the consequences.”

Tim immediately stopped. He turned his gaze to Jay.

“What did you just call me?”

Jay immediately ran away. Tim leapt off of Brian as he began running after Jay. Alex walked over to Brian, who was panting heavily and clutching his stomach, still letting out a few giggles.

“You alright Brian?”

Brian wheezed as he composed himself, his face still red.

“Yeah I’m good. But c’mon! Jay’s next! I can’t miss this!”

A loud laughter from the other side of the theater signaled that Jay didn’t last long. The two immediately ran over. The movie continued playing in the background, completely ignored by everyone. There were much more entertaining things going on. As Tim sat over Jay, smiling as he laughed under him, he felt happiness spread within him. It was good to have a friend group again.

#Anonymous #asks #mine #marble hornets #long post #ok i couldnt resist having some sadness but #the rest is fun #:)

20 notes · View notes