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bmodiwrites · 1 year

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“i don’t know what kind of wine you’re meant to have with takeout, so i got both.” for the valentines prompts! <3

Wah, I had so much fun with this. Thanks for the prompt, @starrystevie! You can read it here or find it on AO3 here. I added the smallest bit of Valentine's Day - I hope you enjoy <3

Despite the sheer blasphemy of the statement itself, Eddie meets the love of his life at church.

It’s a fluke that he’s there in the first place. Wayne’s been eyeing up a lady living a couple trailers down from them. When his uncle heard about her attendance at church, he held a few things over Eddie’s head to get him to come with. It’s by the grace of Eddie’s love for Wayne that he gets up and puts on his most respectable outfit.

Still, he feels out of place the moment he walks through the doors. Everyone else is dressed in their Sunday best, full suits and ties, even a few hats to complete the look. In his black jeans and combat boots, Eddie sticks out.

Though, that’s just fine. He doesn’t really want to blend in with such a crowd, anyway.

They pick a pew that’s at the back of the small, one room church to make it harder for people to outright stare at them. It’s funny to watch grown people turn in their seats to check out the newcomers. Eddie gets a kick out of the little kids that have to stand up to turn around like their parents. He’s ballsy enough to wave back at one of them, even. The little girl grins and starts to make faces at him before she’s forced back down into her seat.

Everything is exactly how Eddie expects it to be. For a while, he’s too amazed by all the people and their contradictions to pay attention to the words coming out of Preacher Harrington’s lips. Eddie is a fully developed picture of what this very church fights against. It feels the slightest bit empowering to silently cast judgement upon people who look down at him every day.

Eddie’s interest is peaked, however, when the choir walks onto the stage and the prettiest boy he’s ever seen takes center position. He stands out amongst the crowd, not only because his robe is a stark white where everyone else’s is red. His hair is perfectly styled, his pale skin flawless. Eddie is certain he’s looking at an outright angel.

It’s refreshing to find that his angel is as heavenly as first expected – the voice that comes out of that beautiful boy is fitting for the wings Eddie is positive he’s hiding. Though the words go in one ear and out the other, Eddie is transfixed by lips that shape around a sound that resonates in his very soul.

Without any conscious thought, Eddie makes a decision right then and there – whoever that boy is, whatever he’s got to do, Eddie’s going to make him his.

Of course, he quickly comes to find out that his angel is the preacher’s son. Steve Harrington is a name Eddie’s been hearing for most of his life. It’s usually combined with a compliment about his hair or good looks or easy way with the ladies. Eddie’s surprised to find out that the preacher’s boy moniker isn’t the first thing people use to describe him. For some reason, it absolutely changes the way Eddie sees him.

Knowing it’s the only way to have a chance at getting closer to Steve, Eddie continues to go to church. Wayne looks at him oddly every time Eddie meets him at the door Sunday morning to get in the truck to head to the chapel, though he doesn’t say anything. Eddie can see he’s dying to ask but Eddie’s not there yet. When the time comes, Wayne will get the dirt he desires.

Eddie gets his chance after the fifth Sunday he forces himself not only to get up early but to make himself the least bit presentable. The choir is looking to expand the instruments they use during the service, so Eddie volunteers his guitar skills. Very carefully, Eddie plays through one of the songs he’s heard every weekend, recalling it all by memory as his fingers move over the strings.

When he’s done, Eddie looks up to see Steve Harrington staring at him with fire in his eyes. Eddie’s so done in by it, it takes him a second to realize he’s been offered a position in the pit band. He doesn’t break eye contact with Steve as he nods a yes and tries to be excited when he agrees verbally, too.

They are in the back of Eddie’s van a few hours later, tangled up together from head to toe. Despite being the demure little thing in church, Steve is a firecracker when the moment strikes. He is the one that makes the first move after Eddie drives them to Lover’s Lake. Steve reaches across the middle console so fast, Eddie isn’t prepared for the press of lips or the sudden rush of want that overtakes him.

Lust isn’t the only thing that strikes Eddie down, either. Every few evenings that Steve can get away, Eddie falls a little deeper in love with a boy that puts up a front for his father in order to live his own life when no one is looking. Steve is a complex person who knows a lot about the things he loves despite what the rumors say about him. His heart is big and wide open for the feelings that Eddie easily shares with him.

Coming together the way they do is dangerous, though made even more beautiful because of it.

Existing on the outside of everyone’s radar is a dream they live blissfully for a while. Steve is a professional at putting off his parents. He blames his time out of the house on study groups and dates with unnamed girls. Eddie gets him a few houses down so his recognizable van isn’t seen by either of Steve’s jailers. They’re careful and sneaky and able to be together freely for so long that slipping up is bound to happen. Eddie lets his guard down – like always, that weakness shoots him in the foot.

He's idling outside of Steve’s house one January night when his boyfriend isn’t the one to climb into Eddie’s passenger seat.

Preacher Harrington out of his fancy suit is a regular man who isn’t nearly as intimidating as he thinks himself to be. He stares Eddie down with hate filled eyes. It’s the same look he gets when the congregation stays silent during his tougher to swallow sermons. Not everyone is as closed minded as the preacher. Eddie tries to remind himself of that as he’s lectured about right and wrong. He’s forbidden to see Steve, though they both know that’s never going to happen.

Besides being adults able to make their own decisions, Eddie knows Steve’s love for him is real and upfront and unafraid, despite opinions of the people around him. Steve reassures Eddie that’s the reason his daddy hates him so much.

Instead of shoving them away from each other, the preacher’s demand brings Steve even closer to Eddie. They’re not even quiet or sneaky about the time they spend together, anymore. Steve openly stares at Eddie as he sings in front of the congregation. Eddie plays a little better after the look and the whole world knows exactly why. Even the man that seethes upon seeing their eyes meet and hold and never let go, not even once through the hellfire that’s spoken about boys exactly like them.

The weekend of Valentine’s Day rolls around, making a sap out of Eddie in a way that should be so very sickening. The real holiday is on Sunday, where the congregation is meeting for a small festival. They’ll have to play the hide in plain sight game they’ve become amazing at over the last few weeks. Saturday night, though, that’s only for them.

Eddie is clever in the way he talks Steve into getting exactly what he wants. He leaves out a collection of take out menus on the kitchen counter, spreading them wide so Steve can clearly see them. When Chinese is picked and delivered, Eddie pulls out two of Steve’s favorite bottles of wine.

“I don’t know what wine you’re meant to have with takeout, so I got both.” Eddie pushes the red and white bottles across the table for Steve to pick the one he wants. Long fingers take out the cork as Steve smiles a knowing grin in Eddie’s direction.

They gossip about their friend group and the adults who judge them ruthlessly in the congregation. Eddie almost spits out wine as Steve tells him a story about Mr. Wheeler, the most outspoken of their avid hate club. “Robin said she found him with his pants around his ankles, Mrs. Donahue on her knees before him.”

When their laughter dies down, Eddie is not strong enough to fend off the pull of Steve’s red lips not to kiss him soundly. The moments they’re sharing feed his soul, making the love he feels for the man snuggled up to him dig into Eddie heart even deeper. When Steve shoves his hands into Eddie’s curls, it’s easy to see that the man driving him crazy is equally as affected.

The angel made especially for him brings out the most devilish feelings inside. He seductively pulls Eddie into his lap and uses the amazing press of his lips to distract him. The movement of Steve’s fingers is secondary to their tongues tangling. Eddie is none the wiser until a soft hand wraps around both measures of excitement, squeezing their lengths tightly. It’s the punched out groan that alerts him to Steve’s naughty intentions.

Tangled up together later, with sweat cooling down their backs, Eddie is dumbfounded by the easy way Steve transforms back into a pristine light, shining like a beacon. He’s constantly reminded of the moment he first laid eyes upon the glorious soul that sets him on fire and guides his way through the darkness. Eddie loves the innocence of Steve’s body pressed against him as the caress of his skin sparks tangible want between them.

Their love is contradiction in all the best ways.

It's that feeling alone that makes it easy to brush past Preacher Harrington on his way to the church festival. He’s got Wayne’s famous icebox cake in his hand when an all too familiar voice stops him. “Good to see you, Mr. Munson.” Though, it’s plenty obvious that the preacher means anything but.

Eddie grins in his direction. “Afternoon, Preacher.”

The conversation seems over, Eddie even starts to walk when Steve’s dad, not their soft spoken preacher, says, “stay away from my son, boy.”

It’s with a laugh that Eddie throws a thumbs up over his shoulder. They both know he’s going to drop off the cake in his hands and find Steve. As that man starts to go on about love and it’s parameters and all the other bull shit that makes no sense, Eddie gets to look across the aisle and smile wide, knowing the love of his life is right across the way.

Steve’s going to be there to return the gesture and stare with eyes filled with love and affection and a wildness Eddie can’t wait to get his hands on. The preacher’s little boy is the type of man that finds them an empty room to shut the door of and express their love with lips and hands and tongues that happily explore familiar territory. Eddie’s angel is part devil that burns everything in his path to make it better. Eddie included.

Whether it’s luck or the man in the sky or simply being in the right place at the right time, Eddie gets a love that’s real and everlasting.

It’s worth the ridiculous trip, every Sunday morning, just to see that smile.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #bobbie writes #he could be an angel

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harrysweasleys · 2 years

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he loves me, he loves me not // s.w

blurb prompt: 19 — “you got me flowers? how cliché, i love it.”

warnings: alludes to sex?

word count: 670

a/n: a little valentines blurb for you guys!! i miss sam so much and writing this prompted me to go back and watch tfatws lol but anyways i hope you guys like this!! (gif credit to @lady-arryn)

Valentine’s Day. What an odd celebration. Love, flowers, chocolate, a little naked angel with a bow and arrow.

You remembered the funny little things you used to do in school for Valentine’s; like making cards for your parents, or, when you got older, the candy grams people would leave in each other’s lockers. It had been a scandalous little holiday where people would confess feelings and tease each other.

But now, you didn’t care for it much. Sure, you were happily in love and willing to celebrate that any chance you could get, but neither you nor Sam were willing to make a deal out February 14th.

No big romantic dinners, no candlelit walks on the beach or planes flying overhead with banners. Nothing of the like.

Just the two of you, a box of chocolates, takeout, and usually a night filled with binge watching Netflix.

That’s why you had been rather surprised when the doorbell rang and you rushed to open it, revealing Sam standing there with a large bouquet in hand and a boyish grin on his face. He was slightly dressed up, wearing a formal buttoned shirt, and it made you let out a laugh. You had seen him leave the house dressed like this this morning but he told you it was because he had an “avengers meeting.” What a sly little minx he was.

“Happy Valentine’s!” he wiggled his eyebrows, stepping into the house once you moved out of the way.

You thought you’d tease him a bit, and decided to ask, “Why’d you ring the doorbell? You do know that you live here, right?”

He rolled his eyes, placing the lovely vase of flowers — yellows and reds and blues, they truly were stunning — down on the table before looking back over at you, “To surprise you, duh. If I had walked into the kitchen while you were doing dishes and I scared you, it wouldn’t have ended well.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your forehead against his chin, “I know, I was only kidding. I can’t believe you got me flowers. It’s so cliché, but I love it.”

You couldn’t recall a time that anyone had gotten you flowers, ever, until Sam came into your life. He was so thoughtful and knew how to put a smile on your face with just the simplest gesture. A keeper, that’s for sure.

“And I love you,” he gave your nose a poke before he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your lips.

“Do you though?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “You lied to me. Saying you had an avengers meeting and all — I mean who does that? Lie to their girlfriend?” You stifled a laugh, pretending to be serious as Sam shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

“Who does that, you ask? Me. A man who is stupidly smitten with his girl and wants to surprise her. Even if it means telling her a little, harmless white lie,” there was a smirk on his face as he leaned forwards and now pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, causing a giggle to escape your lips as he pulled you into a hug.

Hugging Sam Wilson was an otherworldly experience — he was so warm, so strong, so gentle, he was without a doubt the best hugger in the entire universe. And god, were you ever lucky to have gotten the chance to be the one to fall into his arms.

“So, what do you say?” you leaned back and met his eyes; the eyes that you had so strongly fallen for and continue to do so by the day, “Should we throw on a movie and pretend to pay attention?”

He raised his eyebrows at the suggestion, wrapping his arms under your thighs and lifting you off of the ground, “Thought you’d never ask.”

taglist

@eshbadesh

@youmatteralways

@mirclealignr

#sam wilson imagine #sam wilson imagines #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson reader insert #sam wilson blurb #sam wilson one shot

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geminidentitycrisis · 3 years

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Fatgum x F!reader "What a Hero SHOULD do"

Whew.

You guys.

I've been gone a long while, life has been a rollercoaster, but I don't really wanna get into all that noise. Just happy to be in a good place right now.

That said, this was painful to write because I had planned the ending very differently...

I'm not officially in the bnha/mha fandom but, I just got into it recently and wanted to show some love to my favorite Pro!

Hope you guys like it!

I haven't written anything in a while, so please go easy on me...

_____________

(WARNING! Mild angst)

"Hey, Fat...can I ask you something kinda personal...?"

Fatgum glanced down at his young intern with an eyebrow raised, tilting his head in curiosity. "Huh? Oh, sure. What's on yer mind?" he gave an encouraging grin to put Kirishima at ease. The red head craned his neck to look up at his boss, his own mouth twisted into a small frown.

"Have you asked _______ on a date yet...?"

He stumbled a bit but keeps walking, caught off guard by the question, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. "Woah, where did that come from?!" he asked in return with a nervous chuckle. "Well..." Kirishima continued "You guys seem really close. The way you look at her when you see her-"

"Hahaha!" the burst of anxious laughter interrupted and Red Riot looked up at Fatgum again in confusion. "You're reading too deep into it, man! We're just friends! Heh..." Toyomitsu tried to act casually, but it wasn't working at all.

Kirishima pouted a bit, deciding to push a little harder.

"...but, I think she has feelings for you, too-" the blonde stopped walking and stared down at him, his blush growing darker and spreading across the bridge of his nose, cutting him off again. "Okay, let's change the topic, huh? Maybe we should go somewhere else for lunch..."

Eyes widening a bit, Red Riot raised both hands defensively and shook his head. "No, no! I'm sorry...I won't mention it again..." his expression became one of defeat and disappointment, shoulders slumping as he continued to walk, staring down at the sidewalk.

With an inward wince, Toyomitsu followed close behind, his own gaze dropping to the ground as well. Silence passed between the Pro and his sidekick for several minutes before Fatgum spoke up again.

"Honestly, she deserves better..." he mumbled.

This was a surprise to Kiri, his mentor was always inspirationally self-confident, it was disheartening to hear such a comment from the man he so deeply admired. He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped himself when he remembered that he had already promised to drop the subject.

He felt bad for bringing it up now.

_______ was a sweet lady, she was funny and friendly, vivacious and beautiful, generous, tough and a fantastic cook. All Kirishima wanted was to see them both happy together. When they spotted each other through the window of the diner, their eyes lit up, a smile instantly formed on their lips, they would practically start glowing.

She always ran to jump into his arms, hugging around his neck, never failing to say how she missed him. He caught her every time, hiding his face in her hair as he hugged her back and would say he had missed her too, but especially her cooking!

If that isn't true love, Kiri thought, then what is...?

They finally made it to the diner and stopped outside. Fatgum looked through the window, and when he didn't see ______ anywhere, glanced at Red Riot again with a frown. "Listen, can I count on you to keep that little conversation between us? I don't want ______ to know how I feel..."

"You're not sick, are you??" a soft voice piped up from beside Toyomitsu.

It made both of them jump, startled. Fatgum whipped his head around to see ______ standing there, instead of her pretty smile, her face was flooded with worry at the thought of her Hero being ill or injured.

The Pro forced a crooked grin as the blush returned to his cheeks. "N-no, no, I'm fine! How's it goin'...?" he stuttered weakly.

She was clearly not convinced, the concern in her bright (e/c) eyes only deepened. "C'mon...all this time we've known each other, you think I can't tell when something's bothering you...?" he started to panic a bit but Red Riot swooped in to save the day like the rising star he was.

"Aw, he just had a big breakfast, that's all...he doesn't wanna hurt your feelings if he can't finish lunch." Kirishima answered casually with a lightly teasing undertone, arms crossing over his chest. She looked from him up at Fatgum who responded to her questioning expression with a sheepish grin and shrug.

At this, her smile bloomed in place, eyes twinkling mischievously as she playfully elbowed his broad, squishy belly. "Oh, c'mon! When have you ever left here without takeout, even after filling up?! As if it matters..." she giggled, hopping up into his arms as always, chin resting on his shoulder as she nuzzled against him sweetly.

"I'm just happy you're okay...I missed you!"

Bending at the waist with his arms extended, the blonde caught her effortlessly when she hopped up for the hug, sighing and closing his eyes as he rises to his full height, squeezing the small girl gently.

"Ahh, I'm fine, I'm fine...I missed you too..."

Kirishima gave a soft smile as he watched the exchange, dropping himself into the patio chair where he always sat when they came to the diner.

When he set her down, ________ smiled from him to his sidekick. "Your food should be done soon. It's a new recipe! I hope you guys like it!" then she waved over her shoulder as she walked back inside. Exhaling softly, Fatgum turned to sit as well. He glanced over at Red Riot, blushing a bit, only for it to get worse when he notices the toothy grin he's being flashed.

"...Oh, knock it off..." the pro grumbles, arms crossing and lowering his eyes to the tabletop.

"I didn't SAY anything...~!" Kirishima taunted childishly, arms folding behind his head as he leans back and closes his own eyes. "You didn't have to, punk." Tai shot back in typical big-bro style, reaching out across the table to muss the teens perfectly sculpted hair. "Aw, quit! It takes 40 minutes to set every morning!"

Fatgum chuckled, eyes rolling.

After some minutes passed, _______ returned with another server, both carrying trays of food which they placed on the table in front of the two heroes. "Wow! It looks so good!" they said simultaneously, earning a laugh from her.

"Well, I hope you like the taste even more. It's a cheeseburger-tater-tot-casserole. Dig in!" wasting no time, Kirishima and Toyomitsu start chowing down, both groaning happily around mouthfuls of the meal and nodding in approval. "Mmm...!" _______ laughed again, giving a thumbs up.

"Glad to hear it! I'll be right back with your drinks."

She left again but came back quickly with two pitchers and a cup, putting them between their plates. "Yer an angel, _____." Fatgum said with a grin, taking one of the pitchers and starting to drink from it. Red Riot snickered quietly before sipping his own drink.

"Oh, I just remembered! Check this out!" she said cheerfully, reaching behind her neck and starting to untie her apron. Upon glancing at her and noticing this, Fatgums eyes grew wide and a dark blush pooled in his cheeks, choking slightly on the ice water. "...?!"

Kiri froze, his eyes getting big as well and blushing slightly.

She dropped the top, revealing...

A tank top. With a picture of a sombrero. It said "If you don't like TACOS, I'm NACHO type"

Red Riot started laughing, covering his eyes with a hand as he tipped back his head. "Cute, right?!" she asked enthusiastically, looking from one to the other. Smiling weakly, Fatgum gave a slow nod. "It's great...really clever..." he wondered if steam would rise off him if he poured the rest of the water down his neck.

"Yeah, I knew I had to have it when I saw it. Anyway," she started to fix her apron again. "I'll let you guys finish eating. Let me know if you need boxes and your takeout oughtta be done before you get done with those. Enjoy!" with that, she walked off.

The blonde watched over his shoulder as she left before sliding his plate out of the way, folding his arms on the table and burying his face in them.

Grinning, Kiri nudged his foot under the table. "DON'T. SAY. A WORD." this reply only got him to laugh again, head shaking as he resumed eating. "Whatever you say, boss..." the red head hummed.

Between them, they were able to clear their dishes, waiting by the front door for the takeout, both content and full of tasty food. "Alright, guys. Here ya go! I'm glad you liked lunch, lemme know when you wanna try it again." Tai smiled down at her when she came out, taking the bags gratefully. "Yeah, definitely. Will do!"

______ hugged Kirishima tightly, pulling him down to place a kiss on his forehead, surprising him and making him blush faintly since she hadn't done it before. "Be safe, young man, you hear me?" she demanded. He answered with a broad smile and a nod. "Gotcha!"

"Ooh, do I get one of those?" Fatgum asked half jokingly, blushing too. Some color rose up on her cheeks as well, giving him a warm smile as she reached up for the BMI hero.

He put down the food to pick her up again for another hug, chuckling softly when she pressed a tender kiss against his cheek. "Aw, that was sweet!" Kirishima called up to them, earning a swift kick to the ass. "Ow! Hey!" the red head complained, rubbing the spot.

He set her down carefully with a deep sigh. She didn't let go of his arms and he looked at her in confusion. "Please be careful out there, Taishiro...I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you..." he grinned, placing a hand on her head. "I will. I'll be back before ya know it!"

She pressed herself into his tummy, coming nowhere close to being able to wrap her arms around him but she gives him her best hug anyway. The pro didn't have to look at his intern to know he was smirking smugly. He hugged her back before stepping away to grab his bags again. "Well...see ya, _____."

He waved, smiling, then turned so they could head back out. They only took a few steps before Fatgum stopped and glanced back at her over his shoulder.

She was still there, offering another small smile and wave of goodbye.

"C'mon, man! Just go for it! You TOTALLY got this!" Kiri urged desperately. But he was still hesitant. It wasn't an issue of his own self-confidence, but his career. He was so busy that he would hardly have time for you, and the way Toyomitsu saw it, you deserved to be waited on hand-and-foot.

He dreamed about being with you, which meant his worst nightmare would be a villain or criminal using you as leverage against him. It was best to leave things the way they are. It's what he SHOULD do.

A real Hero isn't so selfish as to put their own desires ahead of the safety of those they cherish, he reminded himself. With a heavy heart, he forced a smile to hide the pain and waved back before looking down at the ground and sighing, eyes closing slowly.

"...I just...can't...

#taishiro x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x reader #taishiro toyomitsu x you #fatgum x reader #fatgum x you #mha x y/n #bnha x you #self insert #reader insert #Fatgum #Taishiro Toyomitsu

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

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Nobody asked for this but I'm gonna do it anyways...

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Fluff Alphabet: Takeru/Aguni Edition

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A = Attractive what do they find attractive about the other?

Takeru: only reason he let Aguni wear regular clothes and not swimwear is because he saw ARM in that tank top and was like "oh damn okay 😳." So, y'know, that. (And he'll never admit it but he kinda likes how Aguni is a little bit taller than he is....) Also likes that Aguni has a really dry, deadpan sense of humor—he ways finds a way to make Takeru laugh, even when he's not really trying.

Aguni: I think the physical aspect of things wasn't really a make-or-break for him at first—like, yeah, Takeru's a good-looking guy, but that's secondary. He liked how Takeru is such a live-wire, very loud and colorful and seemingly fearless, no matter what kind of trouble they got into. (But also...he likes the hair. That's a thing for him.)

B = Baby do they want a family? why/why not?

Takeru: If they end up with one somehow, then, sure. But, like. He's not going out of his was to make it a thing. (But also, he has his cat, Ziggy, who he calls his baby, so...)

Aguni: Would secretly love to be a dad but is too worried he might mess the kid up or something. Is more than happy to be 'unofficial parent' to the neighborhood kids, though. Handing out ice pops to the kids that show up at the shop, keeping an eye out and telling them to get home before dark, maybe even showing one or two of them how to throw a better curveball...you know. Real Hallmark channel shit. (And yes, for those who were wondering: Ziggy the cat loves him and often curls up on his lap while he watches TV)

C = Cuddle how do they cuddle?

They don't really "cuddle" outside of bed. Just kinda sit next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, no big deal. But in bed, Aguni lies on his back with his arm sorta outstretched while Takeru...well, my man is worm on a string but OFF the string, he just flops all sorts of ways and a lot of them don't look comfortable but he falls asleep in minutes so whatever.

D = Dates what are dates with them like?

I don't think they do "dates"—they've got a long-term thing going on, so they often end up on the couch eating takeout and watching movies. I think they'd go to the movie theater sometimes (and talk shit for the entire film lol) and every once in a while grab dinner somewhere nice...but, usually because they have some cool limited-time-only dessert item that Takeru insists they try. (And Aguni pretends to be upset about having to get dressed up and go out, but is actually rather pleased to have a little romance...and get something to satisfy his sweet tooth.)

E = Everything you are my ____ (e.g my life, my world…)

Aguni: Emergency Medical Contact

Takeru: Co-Signer On The Apartment Lease

F = Feelings when did they know they were falling in love?

Takeru: About a week after Aguni (drunkenly) confessed his crush. Literally spent a whole week like, "Wow, it's a shame I don't love him back. He's so kind and handsome and smart and funny...too bad, I guess..." until one night he sat up straight in bed and said "Hold up." He then immediately called Aguni and began demanding why Aguni didn't tell him he was in love with him this whole time.

Aguni: They had been friends since they were kids, so it's hard to say when his feelings went from "you're my best friend" to something different. But, once he figured it out, he swore never to mention it because that could complicate their friendship.

G = Gentle are they gentle? If so, how?

Takeru: Yes and no. He's got a bad case of "grabby hands" and often yanks Aguni to and fro to look at something or whatever. Just zero respect for the man's personal space. But otherwise...I imagine he's not particularly rough or gentle, just kind of normal. EXCEPT when it comes to the emotional stuff—like, the real heavy things. I think he's very gentle with that, not asking too many questions and just sort of taking care of him where he can.

Aguni: Generally gentle—physically, emotionally, whatever. But I do think that he's confrontational, like when there's an issue, he comes straight out and asks Takeru what's going on. Even corners him, sometimes. He seems like a "no bullshit" guy, and since Takeru is "Mr. 99% Bullshit" he's gotta deal with it as best he can.

H = Hand/Hold how do they like to hold hands?

The only time they "hold hands" is when Takeru is grabbing Aguni's wrist to drag him somewhere (or run away lol) and when Aguni is pulling Takeru's hand back to stop him from touching something...

I = Impression first impression/s

I headcanon that they met very young, like grade school age. After school, in the park, where Takeru was chilling in a tree and Aguni walked by and he was like "Hey, there's a spider up here, wanna see?" and Aguni is like "Not really, I don't like bugs..." Now, Takeru, being "weird bug kid extraordinaire" can't believe his strange little ears and hops down from the tree and starts explaining why bugs are so cool and that Aguni is wrong...and Aguni listens as this funky, tiny firecracker just talks his damn ear off. Aguni liked how excited Takeru got about things, and Takeru liked how Aguni actually listened to him. And they were fast friends after that!

J = Joker are they into pulling pranks?

Takeru fucks around all the time...and doesn't often find out, because Aguni tolerates all his antics. (To a certain point, but still.) Every once in a while, Aguni will tell some harmless little lie just to watch Takeru freak out—he told him once that Lady Gaga was leaving the music scene forever, and Takeru screamed so loud the neighbors filed a noise complaint.

K = Kisses how do they kiss?

I think they most often do quick pecks—at the breakfast table, when they get home from work. You know. Domestic stuff. But when it's not like that...I think 9/10 times it's Takeru initiating, and Aguni reciprocates by wrapping his arms around him in a big hug (because he likes it but also to keep that skinny little weirdo from wiggling so damn much, he's always moving, he can't just be still—)

L = Love who says I love you first?

Neither! I don't think they really say it at all! Why say something that doesn't need to be said? (At least, that's how they see it...)

M = Memory their favorite moment together

Aguni: It's not really a memory, but...just how they have breakfast together some mornings. Sipping coffee, discussing whatever's going on in the world, the general "togetherness" that comes with it is one of his favorite feelings.

Takeru: The time they spent a full 24 hours in a karaoke booth singing 80's hits and knocking back tequila shots and ordering way too much food.

N = Nickel do they spoil? do they buy the person they love everything?

Takeru: Absolutely buys stuff for Aguni all the time. Mostly random snacks, or little knick-knacks that catch his eye. And also clothes, but...Aguni doesn't always approve.

Aguni: Doesn't buy Takeru stuff BUT leaves vases of flowers he grew on the table for Takeru to find.

O = Orange what color reminds them of their other half

Anything bright and obnoxious reminds Aguni of Takeru—red in particular, which also happens to be Takeru's favorite. And Takeru thinks Aguni has calm and soothing blue-green vibes. Like the ocean, beautiful and serene, but also dark and capable of incredible destruction.

P = Petnames what pet names do they use?

Takeru: All of them. Darling, babe, sweetheart (but he calls everyone those lol). Aguni-specific ones are always over-the-top and ridiculous like "brightest star in all of the heavens..." and he always gets an eye-roll for his efforts.

Aguni: Absolutely does not use pet names. Just says "hey you" or something. Once called Takeru "babe" and Takeru had to stop washing dishes and sit down because he was laughing so hard.

Q = Quaint what is their favorite non-modern thing?

Takeru: I feel like he would collect a ton of vintage stuff—clothes, records, just random little bits and bobs he comes across. But his favorite is definitely his record player—it belonged to his dad, and he keeps it in a place of honor in the hat shop.

Aguni: A set of very old and well-cared-for gardening tools. Takeru got them for him for his birthday, and he legit treasures them.

R = Rainy Day what do they like to do on a rainy day?

Lay on the couch and do literally nothing. Takeru gets the left end, Aguni takes the right, and they binge trash TV shows all day. (And also they make box-mix brownies and eat them straight out of the pan. It's "their thing.")

S = Sad how do they cheer themselves/each other up

Takeru: Aside from all his self-destrictive behaviors (binge-drinking, dangerous situations, etc.) he just really needs a good laugh. And Aguni somehow always manages to make him laugh with an unexpected, deadpan comment. Also, he makes Takeru actually talk through his problems instead of ignoring them...

Aguni: if he's in a bad mood, you just need to let him work through it on his own. He hates being "talked down to" and feels that most attempts at cheering up are cheap, so most people don't attempt. Buf...Takeru is not "most people" and breaks out his most ridiculous jokes to try to get Aguni to crack a smile.

T = Talking what do they love to talk about?

Other people! You know Takeru is the "XOXO Gossip Girl" of the neighborhood, but Aguni...he's like a little old church lady and ADORES hearing all the latest drama.

U = Unencumbered What helps them relax?

Both of them have the same method of relaxation and it's...bubble baths! Aguni does a basic, skin soothing soak and just hangs out in the warm water with a book or maybe just his thoughts to keep him company. But Takeru? He's got some fancy bath soaps, and he takes in a glass of wine and lights a few candles and does a face mask and it's a whole EVENT.

V - Very thoughts about each other

Takeru: Thinks Aguni needs to loosen up and take more risks...but also just loves the guy to pieces.

Aguni: Kinda wishes Takeru would calm tf down sometimes...but also knows that it's just how the guy is and wouldn't dare change him.

W = Wedding when, how, where do they propose?

They're not really the marrying type! They just have a mutual understanding of commitment and that's that.

(But if they did have a wedding... I think it would be a relatively small affair with all their closest friends and family. Like a dinner party, but somewhere extra nice and with lots of good food and alcohol. Intimate and meaningful, with just enough "extra" to satisfy Takeru.)

X = Xylophone What’s their song?

"Total Eclipse of the Heart" because they hid out in a karaoke booth (different from the 24-hour event that Takeru cherishes so much) to es ape the Yakuza and Takeru sang it over and over to pass the time.

Y = You the ___ to my ___ (e.g the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese)

"Breaking" to my "Entering." The "Assault" to my "Battery." (They both hate this sort of thing and try to come up with the worst answers possible lol)

Z = Zebra if they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?

They already have the cat, Ziggy, who is their perfect little angel.

#alice in borderland #hatter #danma takeru #alice in borderland netflix #imawa no kuni no alice #imawa no kuni no arisu #writings and such #hatter/aguni #aguni morizono

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silkthread · 3 years

Text

two years is a long time. two years is enough to break friendships and shatter skin and you say to me, "i stopped trying."

"trying to what?"

"to care." you watch the road intently and the past two years built a wall in between us, jutting out from the car radio and piercing the rear view mirror. you let me control the aux cord but keep a hand on the volume, and i hold my milkshake a little too tightly. "i stopped messaging first."

"so did i," i say quietly. a plastic cover sits by my feet - in it are drunken noodles, fried rice, and mango sticky rice. we split the bill, and i don't mention how paying individually rends my heart to pieces. "i don't text first anymore."

you laugh. it's bitter. "funny, isn't it? you and i were the strongest, in middle school. i thought we could rule the world."

i fiddle with my straw. a styrofoam cup sits in the cup holder, and it's filled halfway with thai tea. two straws jut out the hole; one is bitten and flat, the other is as round as it was fresh out of the wrapper. "we were thirteen," i say. "we were stupid."

"were we? i thought we were just naive."

"what's the difference?"

"it's not stupid to want to hold on to you." you press down on the brake pedal and let your hand drop, now resting at 10 and 3. "i thought we would manage."

"i tried. i gave up."

"yeah, we both did, didn't we," you say as you pick up the thai tea. you suck on your straw - the one that's bitten - and adjust the hand on the steering wheel. the light is green now, but there's still cars in our way. left turn yield on green, i think with some amusement. "the first time i talked to him, it was about biting our straws."

i don't need to ask to know that you mean your boyfriend.

"his brother made fun of us, but i didn't really care." you step down on the gas. "he's a year older. studying biology now - he's a freshman at umd."

"oh," i say, unsure how to proceed. "umd. i was thinking of applying there."

"did you?"

"no. but i know a couple people there."

"maybe they know my boyfriend," you joke, but there's no humor in the words. "why did you stop texting first?" you ask after the silence gets too long.

"same reason you did."

"which is?"

"i got tired. i felt like i was holding on to whatever thread we had connecting us from years ago, when you all snipped it off long ago."

"i didn't. i missed you."

"you could have messaged me."

"i was waiting for you."

"alright," i murmur, and take another sip. "so what's going on at school?"

"nothing much. you?"

"nothing much. life's boring, nowadays."

"why did you message me?"

"what?"

"you texted first, last weekend."

i stare out the window. "i wanted closure."

"for what?"

"i wanted to see if i was still part of your life."

"am i part of yours?"

i don't look at you. yes, i think.

i was in love with you. i cried when you got a boyfriend. sometimes i still dream of you at night.

i can still feel your thighs brushing mine at the head of the roller coaster. your fingers in mine when it was about to drop, and the dizzying feeling i held in my chest when i saw you smile. i think of you and i miss your arms around me, i miss how it felt when you held me, i miss burying my face in your neck on sunday mornings.

i watch an old lady on the sidewalk. she is dressed up in pink, and her beanie is red, and her face is flushed from the cold. just ten minutes ago i let you wear my jacket, because you were cold and i wasn't and something will always prick at the back of my eyes when i see you.

you don’t push me to respond. you drive, and we listen to the music playing from my phone, a spotify playlist i spent two hours curating just for this moment together.

eventually my house comes into view. "again on monday?" you ask as you pull into my driveway.

i nod. my throat is tight. you get out of your seat and meet me in front of the car, and i hug you, and i wish i could hug you tighter than this. you let go, and i let my arms fall to my sides. "if you want to be," i say softly.

you frown. "want to be what?"

"part of my life." i swallow past the knot in my throat. i turn and shove my hands into my pockets, takeout hanging from my wrist. "i'll make space for you.”

my sister waits by the garage door.

“what did you guys do?” she asks me once i’m inside.

i set our order on the table with a muffled thud. i finish my shake and laugh off the question. “nothing,” i say, and i wonder if she knows what that means. “nothing much. what did you do while i was gone?”

#original #my prose #ok2rb #idk if this is worth rbing tbh but um this one made me cry as i wrote it. Awooga.#long post #yes i write by taking direct moments from my life What About It #good night. its 1 am

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seancekitsch · 3 years

Text

Powerplay: a Marko x Reader fic

part 3 of 3, previous part here

Warnings: harassment, vamp typical shit, cursing, death/killing, smut mentions, reference to the book

Marko was a good boyfriend, it turned out, except for when he wasn’t. You liked the sweet little kisses, the teasing way he snaps his jaw at you when you catch him staring, the way he holds you while you’re falling asleep even though he doesn’t have to.You like that he listens, more than your friends do. You rang another friend the other day, and were left waiting with the endless ringing again. You want to be upset, but they weren't as close as you were hoping they’d be. Your close friends were back in New York, three thousand miles and a year of working behind you. And they were Marko and his brothers now.

You love the way he keeps you safe, your protector being probably the deadliest thing you could encounter. You love the way he laughs, always joking and jovial. You always thought his smile hid a joke like some mystery, but now you're in on it too, and it's the funniest thing. There is no secret joke, just Marko seeing the world with eyes full of humor. He sees the little things, and now he shows them to you. You love the way you can speak without speaking. Silence followed by heavy laughter, kisses, and understanding.

You even love that week you were on your period and every night he ate you out until you screamed yourself hoarse.

“Marko,” you’d say, “lets ride.”

And he would obey, letting you hop on the back of his bike, always after work, always too fast. You'd like to imagine him crashing as the wind whips your hair, stings your face. What that would be like, huh. It's what you assume he feels like when he flies, free and wild in the night. He caters to your every whim, makes you feel the happiest, as long as the sun has set.

He was less a good boyfriend when he was hungry, brooding and refusing to get close to you. He would be irritable, pick fights, silent treatment. He would purposely leave you in silence, but he wouldn't ask for a taste, despite your offering. He respected you enough not to try that. Other times, he would make sure that you could hear every thought in his head. His thoughts sounded like shouts, always telling you to get the fuck away, always reminding you how vulnerable you were, how easy to kill you’d be. It's almost maddening. You never knew which nights he would be the silent ones, or which ones would be the loud ones.

“Marko,” you’d say, “This is just temporary.”

You don't even have to think the words for him to know what you mean. Or those moments during the day when it's highlighted just how different he was, would always be. He would always be twenty and handsome and having fun, with a guaranteed group of friends. With a family he belonged with. You would always age, you would have to find something else to do eventually, and you would probably have to leave Santa Carla, because he wouldn't. You could always bore him, with Marko one day realizing you can't keep up anymore. You would always be weaker, and no matter how often Marko puts you first, he always holds the power. You’re only the decision maker because he lets you be. He could always take that power back. Find someone new when you get old and he stays the same age. He will always be this way, and you will always change.

It's those nights you think of pulling away from him, and you hope he never hears those thoughts. You love him, but he’ll always say it's not temporary. It's not true.

You love Marko today.

The jingling of the bell snaps you from your thoughts, head rising only to be face to face with one of the surf nazis. Huh, guess the boys didn’t clear all of them out. This one was tall, a skinhead with an upturned pug-like nose, wearing a lot of denim with eyes alight with mayhem in his agenda. Oh, please don’t fucking break anything.

“Hey Baby,” he sneers. God, his voice was even worse than his looks and his smell.

“Not your baby,” you deadpan, wishing desperately for him and his friends to leave without stealing or breaking anything forcing a sickeningly sweet customer service tone, “But what can I help with?”

Maybe good customer service will get them in-and-out quicker.

“That hot little body of yours could help me out,” his tone is outright mocking. God, is this how dudes like these think they can pull? You can’t even hide your grimace as you flinch at the words. If there was anyone else, just one other person working tonight, this wouldn’t be happening. You know this. Working nights alone practically invited this brand of harassment.

fuckfuckfuck. It’s way too early for Marko to be sniffing around, and if you can get them to leave the next four hours of your shift will be miserable. The man laughs, and it makes your blood run cold. He leans over the counter, past the little curtain of incense haze; breaching your only barrier of safety.

“I bet it could. Couldn’t it, baby?”

His large arms press against the glass of the counter and your eyes immediately flicker from them to the back room, where your knife is. He straightens up.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You frown, meeting his eyes now.

“Do you plan on buying anything we sell?” The Bauhaus record you have playing over the speaker skips, and you almost jump. It's just enough to break the tension, the rising bile in your throat clearing.

“I come in here for you, girlie,” and he affirms what you already know. Now that half of the surf nazis were gone, they were struggling to maintain their turf on the boardwalk. So harassment and torture at their hands were on the rise. Many people over the past few weeks had been dodging them in the stores around here, and now apparently they had caught wise to that. Done with it, you take a step back, leaning yourself against the back shelf to retreat further into the curtain of nag champa.

“You can fuck off,” you offer, gaining confidence as you realize the bong behind your head was more than affordable, and if you broke it over his head, you could cover it.

He opens his mouth to respond, but-

The bell on the door jingles again. A familiar smile fades into a scowl. Marko looks like one of those greek heroes tonight, maybe if only because his presence saves you from the gross comments (or anything worse) of the shaved head across the counter. He immediately distracts the surfer from you.

“Why don’t you get outta here, buddy? Me and the lady were just discussing me trying her out later,” the man spits, and you almost gag at the mental image of that.

Marko laughs, that high pitched full body laugh you love so much.

“That’s funny, buddy,” He throws the man’s nickname back at him, “Cause that’s my old lady right there.”

You loved and hated when he called you that. Technically, you are a year older than the year he turned. The first time you all realized that, Paul gave himself a stomach ache laughing over the ‘older woman’ Marko brought home. Tonight though, the nickname brings the biggest smile to your lips.

“Damn right I am,” you chime in, “and you couldn’t take the hint.”

Marko seals the deal by striding over to where you are and pulling you into a kiss over the counter. It doesn't take much more for the surf nazi to leave, the jingling of the door opening announcing his departure.

“I’m gonna make sure we kill the rest of them before the week is out.”

He waits the three hours it takes for you to be able to lock up behind the counter with you, loosely holding your hips and following you around, only moving away from you to pick out new records when one ends.

Come over tonight, Marko thinks, and you know it isn't a suggestion. You kiss him hard on the mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to press against you. His arms automatically find themselves around your waist, squeezing you as he eagerly returns the kiss. This wouldn’t be your first time at their dilapidated hotel, with sprawling caves and chandeliers and beautiful spray painted murals on the walls. The first time you were there, he brought you there while the others were hunting. He fucked you on any surface not covered with knick knacks they'd collected or takeout containers, leaving you to sheepishly blush while he proudly talked to the others when they returned, deep red hickies and a bite mark on your collarbone you couldn't hide. The next time, the boys and Star and Laddie welcomed you in with booze and a feast and a fun night where you had to crawl out of the cave at dawn looking like a mess. Either way, he waits for you to agree before he leads you to his motorcycle.

“Star, Why don't you just become one of us already?” Paul whined, holding his half eaten eggroll like a cigar, “You're already living with us, Mama. We just want to be friends forever.”

She scrunches her nose, smoothing the long hair of Laddie’s head in her lap. The boy was tired, their unofficial little brother or not, he was still an eight year old.

“Or maybe,” David starts, dropping down from the rim of the check in counter of the hotel, “Star can just have some fun with them and we don’t even have to do what Max wants.”

The boys all laugh, Dwayne’s shoulders turning inward, while Paul smacks Marko in the chest behind you. Whoever Max was, he was someone that could give the boys orders; something you didnt think possible besides their own little group hierarchy. You'd figured out pretty quickly that David was the leader, Marko was his right hand, Dwayne was the left hand; with Marko enforcing, playful and impulsive, and Dwayne being the level head, logical and the one who often kept the boys from fighting and made them all remember why they loved each other so much. Paul was the baby. Both literally and figuratively. He was the messiest, the most likely to slip up;. He was also the one turned last. So when Star decides to be one of them, she’ll be the new baby. Then Laddie.

“No,” Star affirms, “No, I can’t do that to Michael.”

“Michael,” David tests the name on his lips, tongue darting out to lick them after he says it. The curly haired brunette on the boardwalk had a name. Then his eyes flick to you. There's a sharpness to them that feels so different from Marko’s. David is trying to stare through you, not to look inside of your head, to look past it, to see any weakness. A challenge.

“Who’s Max?” you speak up from your spot on Marko’s lap. You can feel him tense under you, but David smiles.

“You don't know about Max? Marko, you didn’t tell her about Max?”

Marko’s hand wraps around your wrist as David continues.

“Max knows all about you, y/n. There’s a reason you're here.”

Here as in, still alive in a vampire den, or here tonight specifically?

Mind thing? You think, and Marko leans his head down against your shoulder as he nods.

“So he knows Marko and I are X-men? Is he Professor X?”

You hear Dwayne and Paul chuckle from the other side of the circle, and Dwayne mutters, “Yeah something like that,” as he swats his hand at Paul’s mesh-covered chest.

“He sired us,” David clarifies.

“You feel it right?” changing the subject, “You feel like you need to be near Marko?”

Marko squeezes your wrist in encouragement, and you nod.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“That's not what I mean.”

You know what he means. It's the way you feel Marko before you see him, the way you can never sneak up on him.

You nod again.

“That’s what Max wanted to know. Marko, do you wanna tell her, or should I?”

What does he mean? You think and the man below you perks up.

Come with me. His palms grip your hips and gently push you to stand, and he follows suit before taking the lead.

He leads you towards the mouth of the cave, where you enter and away from any listening ears.

“So you know how David is dating Star?” he asks, voice low and close to you in the shadows.

“If that’s what they’re doing,” you joke, and he laughs along with you.

“Well, he thought they had what we have, and that's why she’s with us.” He reaches for your hands to hold them, dropping any playfulness from before.

“I’m supposed to turn you, Max thinks. He’s a lot older than us, and he says some vampires have mates or something similar to that. Others they have some deep mental connection with. The guys… we can hear each other sometimes if we try hard, because we’re a pack. I don't have to try with you and that's why Max thinks it's different.”

Turn you? Like, capital T- Turn you? Into one of them? If he turned you, you’d never see the sun again; never feel its warmth. You’d have to drink blood, and human blood at that. You’d become a killer, and you’d have to keep killing. While you aren’t innocent, killing kind of seems like it would be a stretch for you. Some of their victims had to be innocent, but would your hunger corrupt your morals one day?

It's like he can see the wheels turning in your head, ability to hear your thoughts or not.

“Y/n, you don't have to. Fuck, this was dumb to bring up. David thought you were ready, but if you don't want to I won't make you…” He trails off, visibly a little more deflated.

But if you did, you would be on the same level as Marko. All of the insecurities you have about your relationship would just… stop existing. Your relationship’s expiration date would disappear, your fears about having to leave him or him leaving you would disappear. You'd have people and a place to belong and lover and guaranteed group of friends to be a new family.

“How does it work, Marko?” your voice surprises him, and in honesty, he brought you to the mouth of the cave to give you an out. If you wanted to leave here, leave him specifically, he was going to let you.

“You gotta drink, uh, vampire blood.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You shrug.

“Are you sure? There's no take backs for this,” Marko’s voice is stern, unlike you ever heard it before.

Deadly sure, Marko.

He smiles, slowly like the moon rising in the night before it crescendos into the wide toothy grin you're so used to seeing.

Marko leads you back into the den of the cave where the others are hanging out.

Dwayne is the first to approach the two of you.

“Everything okay?”

You nod thankfully, offering him a smile.

Paul swoops in next.

“You better be tellin’ me you're joining the fam, chica!”

He tries to drape his arm around your shoulder, but Marko pushes him away playfully, both of the boys smiling.

“Let’s get this girl a drink!” Marko shouts, and the guys start up hollering and laughing.

Marko leads you back to where you had originally been sitting, his designated folding chair. He gestures to you to sit down, while he looks to David for something. Over his shoulder, you can see Star frowning as she watches on.

“Glad you got to talk it out,” David remarks as he hands a bottle of wine to Marko. Maybe you’ll be able to get used to his mannerisms in half a century. Marko hands off the bottle of wine to you, and your hands dip with the weight of it.

The wine bottle is bejeweled, another do it yourself project that the guys seem to love so much. It's heavy in your hands, dark and unseeing down the neck of it, but full. Marko crouches down between your legs, palms flat against your thighs as everyone waits with bated breath. You uncork the bottle, noticing the dark red staining on the cork, and knowing exactly what’s in it now. Two shaky hands bring the bottle to your lips, tilting your head back as you let the contents flow into your mouth, filling it. The ‘wine’ is thick, warm and salty but feels like it's already intoxicating you from just being in your mouth.

“That’s all Marko’s blood, you know,” David remarks, and you swallow deeply. All Marko. He drained his blood for you, weakened himself for you. Your eyes flicker to him, and he smiles up at you from his spot between your legs.

You smile back at him, widely, teeth stained with blood.

#my work #marko lost boys x reader #marko lost boys #marko x reader

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miyochan · 3 years

Text

It could’ve been worse

Summary: This is the story of you and Dazai Osamu.

Warnings: angst, death, chronical illness, mention of suicide (its Dazai we are talking about)

You had to say, it could’ve been worse...

You just had an Job appointment and well, let’s just say to day hadn’t been your day. The top you were wearing was stained with your breakfast and you missed a step while walking to the top office of the building. With everything happening and the pain on your knees you did stutter a lot. Like a lot. At least the company was nice enough to decline you in a polite way. Simply saying you didn’t fit into the company image. Well, it could’ve been worse.

That was what you were thinking until you saw legs peeking out of the river. You just stared for a moment as the legs got further and further away in funny until you realised the situation. Shit. Someone was drowning and without a second thought you jumped into the river and pulled the person, who was way to heavy, out of the water and tried to catch your breath. After you could breath kinda normal again you checked on the person who was laying lifeless next to you. You shook his shoulders harshly and screamed over an over the words ´sir, wake up!´. Well yeah, that was until he shoot up and his head hit your head and made you fall back. Gosh, did your chin hurt. The person stretched a bit and you couldn’t believe the word that left his mouth next.

„Another failed attempt to leave this cruel world, huh. Anyways I just try again tomorrow with some stones bound around my ankle to keep me down, yes that must work.“

„Wha- You want to try again?!“

The man turned around to face you. You guess you heart skipped two or three beats. He was hot. The way the water dropped from his hair down his sharp jawline made your face heat up like crazy. He stared down at you curiously. The way you still held your bruised chin in an attempt to stop the pain that shoot trough your head and the way you were soaked to the bone.

„Ate you the one who stopped me from the sweet love of death?“

„NO! I’m the one who saved you from drowning but you’re welcome!“

You looked away annoyed that you risked your life to save a psychopath from his date with lady death. You looked back up when you felt your hand was taken away from your chin and started into the mans beautiful eyes which were now way to close.

„Such a beautiful woman like you would be a waste to die alone.“

´What did he just say? Are in danger? Is he dangerous? Didn’t you suffer enough today?

„My beautiful belladonna, would you commit a double suicide with me?“

´huh?´

´huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!´

The way he was staring at you with so much hope made you feel so uncomfortable but you couldn’t say a word from the shook that was still clearly visible in your face. Now that you were thinking about it saying no could lead him to just killing you. So you decided to play along.

„I’m sorry but today won’t be possible since I still have an job appointment in three day’s but should I get declined again I would love to share my last moments with you, sir.“

He looked at you a bit surprised and than broke out into a fit of loud laughter but like the creepy kind of laughter that only people from organisations like the port mafia had. Before he could answer you a book was thrown his way and hit him with so much force in his way that he let go of your hand and fell to the side with a bump.

“DAZAI YOU BANDAGE WASTE OF A MANIAC COME BACK TO THE AGENCY NOW AND FINISH YOU WORK BEFORE I GIVE YOU THE MOST PAINFUL DEATH YOU CAN THINK ABOUT!”

‘Ah,so his name was Dazai. You turned to the side were the yell came from and saw a tall man with classes coming into the direction of you with an angry look on his face.

The man took dazai by the collar and screamed a bit more at him before turning to you and eyeing you up and down.

“Who is this?”

“This lovely belladonna stoppen my attempt by pulling me out of the river and said she would commit a double suicide if she doesn’t get the job she wants.”

The blond eyed you again and was about to scream at the brown haired again but you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry but who are you two?”

“This waste of bandage next me is-“

“Dazai Osamu, nice to meet you belladonna.”

The way he smiled at you with this beautiful dark brown eyes which seemed to glow a bit red and the way his brown wet looks sticked to his forehead was... gorgeous.

“And who are you, my flower?”

“I’m l/n y/n, nice to meet you too.”

And this is how you met the waste of bandage called Dazai Osamu.

—

“Osamu if you don’t do get down from my lap I will kick you down!”

“Buuuuuut belladonna I’m so bored and your lap is always so comfortable!”

“DAZAI MOVE YOU BANDAGED ASS AND DO YOUR WORK!”

And with that kunikida yanked him down from your lap and threw him in his office chair. You chuckled at his antics and finished the report from the last case.

It’s been a bit over two years since you met Dazai and started working at the agency with everybody else. Kunikida saw the wound on your chin and took you to Yosano so she could treat the wound. One thing got to another and you got the job at the agency. And you fell in love with your boyfriend Dazai Osamu. You didn’t even know how it happened but it happened. In this two years you learned a lot about the brown haired man.

You guess you fell for him when the both of you had to stay behind at the agency to finish some work. Kunikida forced him to do his work and you just had a few reports to do. He was so whiny and complained the whole time how much he hated paper work. You ignored most of it until he said an important sentence.

“Why do I have to do this dumb paperwork I would more like to drown myself with a lovely lady... huh...”

“Dazai, uhm why Dow you want to die so much?”

This was a risky question and you knew that but you had to ask. Maybe it was pity, maybe it was curiosity or maybe you were just bored like him.

“Why do you wanna know? Do you, do you maybe want to commit a-“

“No I don’t moron, I mean this question seriously!”

He looked you up and down and than deep into your eyes before he turned away from you and mumbled something. This was incredible unusual from him and your worried about him now.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to ask that.”

There was a bit of silence before he spoke up.

“Why do you think living is worth it?”

This questing was unexpected. You started at your hands a bit searching for an answer that would satisfy him. You thought and thought before you realised that you don’t have to satisfy him. That is your answer.

“Well, I guess it could be worse...”

He turned around to look at you and saw your smiling face before you looked down again to type something in your computer.

“This was not why I expected from you... I thought you would say something deep like that you wish to live your dreams or something.”

“I know, but I won’t change my answer. Do what you want with this information.”

“You’re weird you know that, but I like this answer.”

You looked up to him and saw him writing something down on a piece of paper and slowly a small smile came to your face.

You both had this late night talks often since both of you were forced to stay behind to do work. You talked about many things, random and with a deep meaning. But Dazai never gave you much information about himself. You asked him a question and answered you with the same just different. You knew this but you didn’t mind. After some time he took you home after work, saying that he can’t have you die without him. You were often chatting while walking but sometimes there was just a comfortable silence.

You both got in a relationship in a more sad way. It’s been a year since you met dazai to that point and Kunikida forced you to pick him up and drag him to an important meeting. Of course you did as told and were confused when you found him at a cemetery. You walked towards him and looked down at his sitting form. He was leaning against a gravestone and smiled to himself.

“Kunikida told you to take me to the meeting, or? Well, I don’t want to.”

You stared down at him before you walked in front of him.

“Are you visiting a dear friend of yours?”

At this his eyes opened and starred into your light smiling face. He took a moment to think about your words before he spoke.

“Yes. His birthday is today.”

“I see... I’m gonna go now. Make sure to come home safe da-“

You couldn’t finish your sentence because that what was happening next was shocking you to the bone. Dazai hugged you. He hugged you tight. You were laying with your bake on the floor and Dazai on top of you, his face between your shoulder and neck.

“Don’t say anything, please.”

You never heard him say the work please. You careful lifted your arms and stroked trough his brown hair while your other arm carefully stroked his back. You said nothing for a few minutes and just held him.

“Tell me... tell me about him, your friend.”

Dazai flinched a bit at your words but started talking about the man that was his only true friend. You listened closely to what he was saying and felt him relax in your arms. This is the moment the both of you fell in love and you became is safe place. The both of you became a couple after that day.

You learned a lot about him. That he like it to be held, to feel welcome. That he hated spicy food but still ate it whenever you wanted too. That he hated waking up early but did it when you told him that he can cuddle you the whole evening. That he liked the sound of your voice more than the sound of his favourite song. That he would read to you whenever you couldn’t sleep. But most importantly you learned that Dazai Osamu wanted to live. He wanted to live with you. He even stole your life quote. When you were stressed or angry he always told you “it could be worse”.

—

“Y/N I’m done with my work! Can we go home now? I want to cuddle and we can order some takeout!”

You let out a light chuckle when he brought you away from your thoughts. He was adorable.

“Of course we can, just let finish this and we can go in 5 minutes, okay?”

He nodded and turned back to say something to Atsushi who was absolutely done with Dazai’s antics.

You smiled to yourself before standing up but you were suddenly feeling dizzy and you felt a pain trough your complete body. You must have key out a scream because everybody was with you now. The last thing you remember was Dazai’s worried face and someone screaming your name.

—

You woke up to a bright white light shining directly in your face. You closed your eyes again and let out a few curses before opening them careful again. You could hear people talking. You tried to look around, gosh your body felt so heavy. You saw a.. a doctor and on the other side Dazai who looked as if someone told him a horror story. Dazai noticed you were awake and hugged you immediately. You careful lifted your arm to stroke his head. You knew it always calmed him down.

“What’s wrong Osamu? Are you okay? You looke pale...”

He just watched you with a worried expression.

“L/N, I’m your doctor. Do you remember anything before you came here?”

“I... I felt dizzy and everything hurt...”

“I have bad news for you l/n. We were doing a few test with you because we thought you have a heart attack but... you have cancer. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

“Is it bad?”

“Yes. We think you have around 3 to 5 months. A chemotherapy won’t do anything anymore. We don’t know how no doctor found out earlier. We’re so sorry.”

You were quit for a moment. You were shocked that the doctors didn’t found out earlier but that can’t be changed anymore. You focused back on Dazai who wasn’t letting you go.

“I see.. could you please leave us alone for a bit?”

“Of course.”

And with that the doctor left you and Dazai alone. You wanted to speak but he started first.

“I already talked wit Yosano, she can’t help you. The doctor told me a few hours ago... I couldn’t believe then at first I-I don’t know what todo! You can’t leave me, please don’t leave me please-“

He was shout up with a kiss. You wiped a way the tears that escaped his eyes. You never saw him crying. You gave him that beautiful smile again he fell in love with.

“You know... it could be worse”

“What!? How could this be worse you are going to-“

“Im still here, aren’t I? I’m glad that I can see you again and spend my time useful with you. You the person who means everything to me.”

He looked at you and you felt the first tears hitting your face again. This was the first time you say him crying.

—

The two of you did a lot. Dazai and you visited Oda. Dazai never said it out loud but you knew that your grave will be next to Oda’s. You both went with the agency to your favourite convert. You took many pictures. Dazai took one with you everyday and even when you said no because you looked horrible he just kissed you and said you were the most beautiful belladonna of the world. You went with him to your favourite restaurant were he had to eat spicy food and he did it with a smile. You held him every night and told him how much you love him and he did the same to you. But the most important thing his, that you both married. It was a month after the diagnoses that the both of you married. It was just a tiny celebration with the agency and a special seat for Oda.

—

“I’m so happy that the ring still fits.”

“Yes, you look amazing my belladonna. I love you”

You were skinnier than before but the ring was still fitting. You guess that one time were you put it off that Dazai got to a jeweller and made him smaller.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable in your seat? The hospital seats are not the most comfortable my love?”

“It’s okay, you are here.”

It would be an wonder if you would survive the night. You’ve gotten so fragile and sick. Both you and Dazai were aware of that. He was with you the moment you got back in the hospital. He never left your side.

“You know... I’m happy.”

“Why?”

“I can spend my last movements with you. I don’t want to leave you.. I don’t want to leave you Osamu, I-“

“It’s okay. We are going to meet again. We will fall in love again, we will marry again. We will have a family and we will be together.”

You were crying, you didn’t wanted to spend your last moments crying. You want to be smilingly for him. You were always smiling for him.

“Y/N... I will live for you.”

You were taken back by his words. You just looked at him with tears falling from your eyes.

“I will protect our friends and you will take care of Oda for me until we met again.”

And then he saw it. Your beautiful smile came back. You were still crying but smiling.

“Okay, I’m going to wait for you with Oda but don’t join us to early!”

“Okay my belladonna. That’s a deal.”

He came laying next to you and for a moment everything was quit. He was listening to your heart beat and you stroke his hair.

“Osamu... I love you.”

Your hand stopped stroking his head and your eyes closed but you were still smiling at him.

“I love you more.”

With that he heard your heart beating for the last time. He pulled your body tight against his own before he started crying. He was only crying for you.

“You lied... it couldn’t be worse.”

#bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd scenarios #bungou stray dogs scenarios #x reader #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu x reader #bsd dazai osamu #dazai scenario #dazai x y/n #bsd imagines #angst #I cried at the end #I hope you like it #<3

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Welcome To Backwater ch.2 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch isn’t running away, not really.

He took the bus.

Only to end up in a little town in the middle of nowhere, meeting unusual people, dealing with unexpected happenings, what the hell is going on in this place?

Content: Spicyhoney, Midwest Gothic

Note: Just as a heads up, I'd give this story a warning for mild horror and mild gore. None of our boys, but better to let y'all know!

~~*~~

Read Chapter Two ‘Meet and Greet’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

For the next week Stretch spent most of his time trying to figure out the method in the madness to Red’s store management. His first day of ‘training’ pretty much consisted of Red showing up long enough to demo the cash register and then shuffling off to the apartment at the back where he lived. Not that pushing a couple of numbered buttons was that complicated, but that wasn’t the only issue cropping up around here along with the local corn.

First of all, nothing in the shop was priced. All the items were recorded in a ragged notebook with coffee ring stains on the cover, where Stretch got to figure out if an item fell under the category of ‘toilet paper’, ‘paper, toilet’, ‘ass wipers’, or ‘shitty ass wipers’, all written in Red’s sloppy handwriting. The sheer number of items that fell under ‘ass’ and ‘shitty’ were staggering.

Turned out, the little store actually did a fair amount of business. Plenty of Humans stopped in to pick up one or two things rather than drive to the nearest Wally World which according to Granny Collemore, who Stretch was guessing was the unofficial town gossip, was better than a thirty-minute drive away.

“Don’t need to be driving an hour for a little bum tissue,” she bellowed happily, “shopping day is Sunday, we’ll stock up then!”

Stretch nodded as he rang her up, wincing away from her volume. He’d figured out pretty quickly that the old woman was stone deaf, but she didn’t seem to care if all she got was a smile and plenty of nods, so that was fine.

She handed over a wad of cash pulled from a little embroidered change purse that let out a puff of lavender so strong when she opened it that it overshadowed the store’s normal musty smell, hollering the whole time. By the time she left, Stretch knew enough about the local weather patterns to make a rain prediction and that the way someone named Pritchard was hamming on a pretty young’un Eloise meant they’d best they be married soon ‘fore it turned into a shotgun wedding. He nodded along with every proclamation, hurrying around the counter to open the door for her and ended up spending five minutes waiting for her to shuffle her way out, her bunny slippers leading the way.

But as she was leaving, she reached up and gave him a gentle pat on the cheekbone, her wrinkled hand barely able to reach. “You’re a nice boy,” she told him, too loud and with a pink, gummy smile.

Stretch was too startled to flinch away and only managed to mumble a thank you as she headed off into the growing heat of the morning, a hunched figure in a flowery dress and pink slippers, her bag of emergency tp bumping against her hip as she trundled along.

That was another thing. He’d thought that the Humans around here would be distrustful, even malicious, but that wasn’t proving to be the case. Aside from a little surprise when they first saw him, all the customers so far were small-town kindly. Kids came into the shop to raid the nickel-candy rack, their bikes left in piles outside as excited groups came roaring in. Mothers came in with babies wearing only their diapers, fanning themselves and laughing out their, ‘my, isn’t it a hot one today?’ as they bought a half-gallon of milk and some fresh apples to put in the bottom of their strollers.

No one in town seemed to care that he was a Monster past asking his name and maybe it was just ‘cause of Red being a skeleton, too. Could be that Granny Collemore was out there somewhere bellowing that the local shopkeeper had family visiting, who knew? It was sure different than he was used to. The general sentiment in Ebott about Monsters was resentment; over them taking jobs, enrolling in the schools, whatever it was, they didn’t want Monsters doing it.

It was…nice, he decided, to not have someone dislike him on sight.

That was how he spent his mornings. He worked in the shop, idly dusting, putting away the deliveries that a guy in the pickup truck and overalls brought in daily, and borrowing Red’s wifi to listen to soft music on his phone. The calls had trickled to only once a day and the glaring red alert number of his messages kept climbing.

Stretch didn’t look at them, only skipped right over to Spotify and the 'The Wedding Singer Divorce Special pt 2' playlist.

Red came in every day to relieve him at around two. He grunted out something that resembled a hello as he heaved himself up on the stool, leaning his cane against it as he pulled out a battered romance novel from beneath the counter. The creased covered did not in the slightest hide the young, scantily-clad woman caught up in a fiery embrace with her highland Lord.

“be back later,” Stretch said as he hung up his apron. Not that it mattered, wasn’t like Red was his dad or even a friend, not really, and he didn’t care when Stretch came home. A couple times they’d eaten together, takeout from the local diner that was imaginatively called ‘Mama’s’, not ‘Eats’, watched a little but that was it. His lack of idle chitchat was the complete opposite of Blue’s constant stream of chatter and after years of that, the silence was kinda disconcerting, but maybe not in a bad way.

Red didn’t even look up from his book, only pulled a crumpled bill out of his pocket and pushed it across the counter, “pick up some beer at the station, wouldja?”

“sure,” Stretch said, almost grateful for something else to do. It was miles better than sitting the rest of the day in his little room with its faded, floral wallpaper where the air conditioning wasn’t quite able to combat the heat of the mid-afternoon sun. He’d done that once, the first day, and after that made a point of staying out of his room until sundown to give it chance to cool off.

The town itself wasn’t much more than a bunch of ramshackle houses. To the west were fields, the leafy tops of what Stretch was now certain was corn rustling in the wind. Off to the east, the landscape slowly went from flat plains to trees, their wilting leaves yellowing in the heat and ending in a wooded area that surrounded maybe half the town. Shame it was too far away provide much shade unless you went walking right into it. Main street consisted of a few other public buildings; a tractor store right up next to the thrift shop, a little one-room schoolhouse with an attached shed that served as the town library, the Sheriff’s office, and the movie theater.

On the outskirts of town there was also a bar, The Whistling Cow, its glowing neon sign a single point of orange light on dark nights. As much as Stretch wanted a drink, he stuck with filching beer from the cooler Red kept under the counter. Hanging around with strange, drunk humans usually didn't end well for him.

The movie theater was where he’d taken to heading after work. Someone with a sense of humor must’ve named the place, since ‘The Grandeur’ literally only had one theater and maybe thirty seats, if that. The proprietor ran the ticket booth and the concession stand, and in his threadbare uniform with its yellowing shirt, he looked a lot like Lurch's second cousin, once removed.

But he was a nice enough fella and it was a good way to waste some time. Even if the only movies showing were old black and whites, the popcorn was fresh, with real butter, and the added bonus of air conditioning. Besides, the Three Stooges were funny as shit any old day.

That was where Stretch was headed today; the afternoon showing only cost two bucks, then another for popcorn and he was set for a few hours. It was better than trying to get anything to tune in on the television in his overboiled room. With a lot of coaxing, he might manage to get a PBS channel, but there was only so much time a person could spend sweating their way through a staticky version of Sesame Street.

Stretch got to his seat just as the lights were going down, settling in with his popcorn. Before the movie there were a few cartoons, and it was kinda wild to get to see Steamboat Willy chugging along on the big screen again.

Today’s flick was an honest to bitsy silent movie and Stretch watched with a wide grin as Charlie Chaplin slap-schticked his way across the stage. There were a few other people in the seats, at least one of them snoring; probably only came to get out of the summertime heat.

But it wasn’t really the movie he was here for. Not today.

He’d seen her the first time he came. Sitting in the far back row, not that uncommon, some people liked to sit far away. No one else seemed to notice her and that wasn’t strange either. Normally even he didn’t pay much attention to anyone else in the theater, who did? So long as a person was quiet, made no ripples in the pond, no one saw them. Movies were for escapism, not to make new friends.

But this lady. To begin with, her clothes were about a century out of date, with her pink suit and matching pillbox hat, her white gloves, and whenever the house lights came up while they switch the reel, she vanished without even a shimmer of dust motes, only returning once the darkness did.

He’d been back three times so far and she’d been in the theater for every showing. Sitting on her own watching the flick, always in the same seat. This time, Stretch was sitting in the seat next to it. He munched his buttery popcorn and watched as Charlie Chaplin-ed his way through the movie. He didn’t have to wait long.

None of the Humans noticed. The black-and-white light coming from the screen was dim enough that anyone sitting in the audience was nothing but a shadow. Humans tended towards the unobservant side, anyway, none of them had to be as aware of their surroundings as a Monster did, especially one like Stretch with only 5 HP between him and dust.

Besides, there wasn’t any fanfare about it. One minute the chair next to him was empty and the next, a young woman was sitting there, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she looked up at the movie with rapt attention.

“like the movies, huh?” Stretch said, very softly. “always wanted to be an actor myself, but i don’t have the guts for it.”

Waste of a good pun, he didn’t even think the woman had a chance to notice he was a skeleton. She startled, one faintly translucent hand flying to her mouth as if to stifle a scream. Stretch only munched on another piece of popcorn and let her gather her wits or ectoplasm or whatever ghosts had. Wasn’t like he had room to talk, the inside of his skull was as hollow as a drunken apology.

She settled quick enough and asked in a wispy little voice, “you can see me?”

Stretch slouched back and propped his sneakers up on the seat in front of him. “sure. it’s a monster thing. we see things that humans don’t, sometimes.” Or didn’t bother to see, Stretch wasn’t sure which.

“Sometimes they see me,” she admitted. “but they always run away.”

Yeah, Stretch couldn’t really blame them for that one. Humans weren’t used to ghosts, not the way Monsters were, and now that he was sitting up close, he could see the way she flickered a little, that pretty face sometimes flashing onto something else, half still pretty as a picture from an old magazine and the other a bloody ruin. There was a gaping hole on one side of her head, her blonde hair matted into dark clumps, and one blue eye stared out, unseeing. There were flecks scattered on the shoulder of her pink suit, chips of ivory, and Stretch knew enough about bones to recognize skull fragments. Another flicker and it was gone, only a pretty young Human woman looking back at him. The effect was a little off-putting, true, but it wasn’t like she could help it.

Besides, Stretch didn’t have to look. He was watching the movie.

“what’s your name?” he asked, softly.

She hesitated and he wondered if she didn’t want to tell him or if she didn’t know. Her eyes were large, absurdly long lashes sweeping against her cheeks as she considered. When she spoke again her voice was a little stronger, surer, “Doris.”

“doris, my name is stretch,” he told her, “and it is a pleasure to meet you.”

They sat together in silence for a little while. The music coming brightly from the speakers was as cheerful as a carousel, offering happiness and humor when she spoke again abruptly. “I know this is very forward. But. Could you do something for me?”

“maybe,” Stretch said, a little wary. Better not to make promises to unknown ghosts, they could get tetchy.

She smiled, a wry curve of lips as if she could hear his thoughts. “Your popcorn.”

He looked down at the paper cup in his hand, still half-full of buttery kernels. “you want some?” he asked, bemused.

She let out a whispery laugh, like a wind rustling through summer cattails. “No, but. Can I smell it?”

Oh. “sure.” He held the cup out and she leaned over it, inhaling deeply, or, well, looked like she did, he didn’t think ghosts actually breathed, but who knew? When she bent down twin ribbons of blood ran from both her nostrils, dark and slick. It didn’t drip into the popcorn, couldn’t, it wasn’t present in the same way the little carton was, but he felt his appetite fade. He still politely pretended not to notice.

She leaned back with a happy sigh and all signs of the blood were gone. “Thank you. I go behind the counter sometimes to smell it, but it’s not the same.”

“i bet. gotta be in a paper bucket or it ain’t right.” If she could go out to the concession stand, that meant at least she wasn’t stuck sitting in this one seat. Maybe it was just her favorite. “you get out much?” He jerked his head towards the door, “outside, i mean.”

“No,” She shook her head sadly, and her hair brushed her shoulders. “I have to stay in the theater.”

He nodded sympathetically. That was gonna make this a little harder, but not too much. He liked the movies, anyway. “yeah, it works that way sometimes. but hey, i’ll stop back in and see you again. if that’s okay?”

She brightened visibly, coming sharply into focus like a lens turned on a camera, until the chair behind her only barely showing through. “Would you?”

Now that was a vow he could make and Stretch sketched a cross over his chest with a finger and said solemnly, “i promise.”

Their chat must’ve been getting a little loud. Someone was turning around in the front seats. The room was too dark to see, but he didn’t have to witness a glare to feel it. Stretch slouched down in his seat and took the hint.

Hey, he’d made a friend. Well, most of one and it was the important part. A soul without a body was a lot nicer than a body without a soul, hands down.

Which made him wonder about the gas station attendant, because Mitch made Red seem like a warm, outgoing person.

The ancient artwork on the front window of the gas station showed a shiny, smiling attendant in a tidy uniform, his neatly cut hair almost hidden beneath his cap as he held up a dripping gas nozzle in offering. That guy must’ve gotten promoted out of state, because the only dress code Mitch followed was ‘fuck it, looks clean.’ Long, straggly hair poked out from his dirty baseball cap and, of all things, he was reading the New York Times, the business section.

His saving grace was that his disinterest in all customers was universal. Mitch was an equal opportunity kind of guy; he didn’t give a shit about anyone.

Stretch opened the door carefully so that the cowbell only gave a muted clang. He hesitated inside the door and decided to brave a question. Hey, he’d made one friend today, may as well push his luck. “you got any coffee on?”

It was a pretty safe bet, even as hot as it was. Coffee wouldn’t help with the sweat that was already dampening his shirt from walking over from the theater, but Stretch felt a little unsteady from meeting Doris. He could use a dose of caffeine to shore him up.

Mitch didn’t look up from his paper, but he jerked his chin towards the back wall. “Yep, but the only coffee I got is hot. Ain’t no ‘spressos around here, Slick.”

“Hot is fine.” He didn’t bother correcting him on the name. Started with an S, close enough, they’d be best pals in no time. The carafe of coffee smelled surprisingly fresh, considering that Mitch looked like he’d been holding that chair down for a few hours. There was a plastic basket next to the carafe filled with little coffee mate creamer cups. He added four French vanilla, carrying his murky coffee up to the counter with Red’s six-pack. Beer was one thing they didn’t sell at the store, no alcohol at all, something to do with the liquor laws in this county and Red not paying those skinflint jackholes for a license, not on his ass, thanks much.

He paid for both, picked up his change from where Mitch tossed it unhelpfully on the counter and went outside, fumbling out his smokes on the way.

Stretch sat down on the crumbling curb, drinking his coffee and smoking, letting the caffeine and nicotine wash over him in a twin, soothing rush. He’d been trying to cut down with his funds being on the uncertain side, cigarettes were a pricy vice, and he couldn’t bum any from Red the way he did the beers.

The sun was still high overhead pouring down the heat, coming up off the pavement in shimmery waves. Sweat was rising up on his bones, his t-shirt clinging damply to his ribs and spine. Somewhere nearby, he could hear children playing, the hollow thud of a basketball and their laughter carrying on in the still air. He didn’t have anywhere he needed to be, no one’s expectations to live up to.

When his cigarette was done and pinched out, Stretch climbed back to his feet and headed for the grocery to drop off the beers before they got warm. Again, he went easy on the door, keeping the bell to a faint rattle rather than a clang. It was only when he turned around that he saw the front counter was empty, Red’s book bent open on the counter but no skeleton around to pick it back up.

He set the beers on the counter, calling, “red?”

No reply and that was strangely ominous in a little store where even a short skeleton would be hard pressed to hide.

There was a long hallway in the back that led past a couple storerooms to the apartment Red lived in. He gave the storerooms a glance, just in case Red had a sudden urge to restock the sanitary napkin display, and wasn’t very surprised to find them unoccupied. He saw the door to Red’s apartment was open a crack like it never was and that cranked ominous up to sinister. The lingering sweat on his bones was chilling in the air conditioning, but that wasn’t the only reason a sudden shiver rattled him.

“red?” Stretch called weakly as he pushed open the door.

The living room was small with a ratty plaid sofa and a coffee table littered with beer cans and balled up chip bags, and standing in the center of it was a person who was not Red, not unless he got one hell of a growth spurt while Stretch was gone.

Once, Stretch would’ve just taken a shortcut out, right the hell to the Sheriff station down the road and never had he missed the skill more than when the guy-who-was-definitely-not-Red started to turn around. The instinct to teleport was still there even if the ability wasn’t, fizzling out with an aching pain right in the middle of his chest.

It was only a minor distraction and Stretch blundered over to grab a lamp from a side table, yanking the cord right out of the wall as he brandished it over his head like a club, yelling shrilly, “what the fuck are you doing in here?”

The guy turned around, looking back at him with deep crimson eye lights that flicked briefly up to the lamp before meeting his wild gaze. His voice was as smooth and dark as deep water as he stated coolly, “I believe that’s my question.”

Stretch could stare and the only coherent thought amongst the many tangled ones scrambling through his mind was only two words. Simple. Descriptive.

Oh, shit.

-tbc-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #underswap sans #welcome to backwater

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thewidowsghost · 4 years

Text

Fox - Chapter 27

Previously on Fox:

"So," (Y/n) says once the door closes, "new girlfriend, new house, that's pretty cool."

"You're an idiot," Natasha says and (Y/n) bends down and kisses her softly.

"We're going to have to do something about that," (Y/n) grins down at the redhead. "Can't have an intelligent women like yourself dating an idiot, now can we?"

"Haha," Natasha says, gazing up into (Y/n)'s (E/C) gaze. "Now, let's got get your stuff."

3rd Person POV

After about twoish hours, the two move everything from the Quinjet and move it all into the townhouse.

"We're going to have to get takeout or something and we can get groceries tomorrow," Natasha says the two sitting down on a couch in the living room - the redhead already changed into a pair of pajamas.

"What do you want, tacos, Chinese?" (Y/n) wonders. "Or maybe come pizza? A friend told me that there's this one pizza place that makes dessert pizza made with M&M's. Like, who come up with this stuff?"

"New Yorkers apparently," Natasha answers. "And pizza seems pretty good Pepperoni with sausage on half and an M&M pizza, I guess."

"Yeah, let's go," (Y/n) says, excitedly jumping off the couch and walking over to her wallet and phone which were sitting on the kitchen counter.

Natasha laughs at (Y/n)'s excitement as the (H/C) haired woman flops down on the couch beside her.

(Y/n) searches up the pizza place and orders the pizza then leans her head against Natasha's shoulder. Natasha wraps her arm around (Y/n)'s back and sets her hand on her waist. (Y/n) moves closer snuggling into Natasha's side; Natasha laughs as the taller woman does so.

"What?" (Y/n) asks, looking up at Natasha.

"It's kind of funny," Natasha says and (Y/n) shoots her a confused look. "You're taller than me, and yet," Natasha waves her hand at (Y/n).

"Meanie," (Y/n) murmurs, resting her head back on Natasha's shoulder.

After about half-an-hour later, there is a knock on the front door. (Y/n) sits up and grabs a ten dollar bill out of her wallet and walks over to the door.

"Here you go ma'am," the pizza boy says.

"Thanks kid," (Y/n) hands the boy the ten dollar bill and he smiles gratefully at her.

"Thanks," he says, handing (Y/n) the pizza. She closes the door and carries the two boxes into living room and sets them on the coffee table.

As she goes to take a piece, her phone rings and (Y/n) answers it, a little confused.

"Hello? (Y/n) Stark here."

"(Y/n)?"

"Sam? What's up?" (Y/n) asks, flopping down onto the couch, and putting the call on speaker phone.

"We need your help back here," Sam answers.

"Why?" (Y/n) asks, exchanging a look with a confused Natasha.

"You know the cadet you trained for the drill team? Brands?"

"Yeah..." (Y/n) says.

"There was a mission," at Sam's words, (Y/n) winces. "Now we need you to come train the next one. There's no one to take over for Brands."

"Who would I be training?" (Y/n) asks, taking a piece of pizza.

"Umansky," Sam says and (Y/n)'s eyes widen.

"I don't know Sam," (Y/n) says hesitantly. She looks at Natasha, who is still looking confused. Would you want to come? she asks. Natasha pauses for a moment before nodding. "Sam?" (Y/n) begins.

"Yeah?"

"Would it be alright if I brought a friend along?" At (Y/n)'s words, (Y/n) can almost hear Sam's smile as he responds.

"I'll tell Ryan you're on your way," Sam answers. "Bring your uniform, you've got some cadets to impress."

(Y/n) laughs, "Bye, Sam."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam says. "Bye."

"Well," Natasha says, grabbing another piece of pizza, "looks like we're going on another field trip."

(Y/n) laughs, opening the box of M&M pizza.

"Wow, I've never seen anything so beautiful," (Y/n) pauses, then grins, looking at Natasha, "oh, wait..."

(Y/n) feel triumphant when she sees Natasha's cheeks redden slightly. (Y/n) grabs a piece of the pizza, and leans up against Natasha again.

After a while, (Y/n) stands up and stretches moving to the master bedroom and pulling out her suitcase and packing up a few extra pairs of clothes, a few pairs of pajamas, and carefully folds up her ironed uniform, placing it at the top. Then she grabs the black shoe polish and her shoes and begins polishing them, sometimes igniting a finger to burn the polish into them. After about an hour, she's satisfied with the shoes, being able to see herself in them.

(Y/n) places them back into their shoe box and placing them at the side of the suitcase by her clothes.

(Y/n) grabs Natasha's suitcase and folds up some of her clothes and places them into the suitcase. She zips it up and carries the two suitcases downstairs and sets them by the door.

(Y/n) walks back into the living room to find Natasha asleep on the couch and walks over and gently picks her up and carries her upstairs. She sets her on the bed and Natasha relaxes into the bed and (Y/n) grabs a blanket and covering her up. Then (Y/n) grabs a pair of pajamas and walks over to the bathroom and takes a shower. (Y/n) grabs a hairdryer, a hair straightener, and a hairbrush and takes them down to the first floor of the house and quickly drys and straightens her hair so she could up it in a bun the next day.

Once she's done, (Y/n) grabs the hairdryer, straightener, and brush and packs them into the her suitcase, makes her way upstairs, and settles on the bed with Natasha. She shifts into a golden tabby Maine coon she-cat.

She stalks forward and tucks herself under Natasha's arm and Natasha sleepily pulls the cat closer. Cat (Y/n) snuggles into her chest and purrs softly, one of Natasha's green eyes sleepily opening to gaze down at her girlfriend.

"You make an adorable cat," the redhead murmurs and Cat (Y/n) purrs softly, meeting Natasha's green gaze with her own amber eyes.

Natasha is lulled to sleep by the soft purring of Cat (Y/n) beside her.

The next morning, (Y/n), still a cat, sneaks out of the bed and, once out, shifts back into herself.

(Y/n) silently opens the closet doors and grabs a pair of jeans, her Air Force t-shirt, and her Air Force leather jacket, then grabs her phone and wallet off the nightstand. She slips into the bathroom and changes real quick and moves downstairs.

(Y/n) grabs a pair of black and white Nikes and pulls them on and grabs the house keys she had hung on a hook near the door.

(Y/n) goes out the front door and jogs down the street to a coffee shop. She stops and walks inside, approaching the counter.

"Hello, how can I help you?" the woman at the counter asks cheerfully.

"I'd like two large coffees, one black, one hazelnut with cream and sugar please," (Y/n) says and the woman nods.

"Anything else?"

"Could I get two cinnamon rolls?" (Y/n) asks.

"Coming right up," the woman says, turning and relaying the orders to the workers behind her.

(Y/n) hands the woman a twenty. "Keep the change," (Y/n) says and the woman smiles.

"Thanks," she says, handing (Y/n) the two coffees and a bag.

"No, thank you," (Y/n) says, over her shoulder. She opens the door with an elbow and walks back down the street and back into the house, closing and locking the door. (Y/n) then walks over to the kitchen counter, setting the coffee and the bag there. She puts the two cinnamon rolls in the oven to keep them warm. (Y/n) leaves her shoes by the front door, and then jogs up the two flights of stairs into the master bedroom.

(Y/n) shifts into the Maine coon and jumps onto the bed, nudging Natasha with a ginger paw. Natasha doesn't stir, and Cat (Y/n) lets out a loud meow, pawing Natasha's nose and the redhead groans as (Y/n) lets out another loud mrow. (Y/n) jumps off the bed, and shifts back into herself.

"I got food," (Y/n) says and Natasha's eyes flutter open. "Come on, I got coffee." Then Natasha sits up, (Y/n) rolling her eyes. "So now you wake up," she adds.

(Y/n) shoots Natasha a smile then jogs back downstairs and makes her way to her coffee, Natasha trudging her way down the stairs a moment later; (Y/n) walks over to the oven and pulls out the cinnamon buns as Natasha sits down in one of the chairs at the island.

"Here," (Y/n) slides the bag over to Natasha. "I got you a cinnamon bun," then she hands her a coffee cup, "and black coffee."

"Thanks," Natasha smiles as (Y/n) sits down beside her with her coffee and pulling a cinnamon bun out of the bag between her and Natasha.

"What?" (Y/n) asks, taking a sip of her coffee.

Natasha leans up against her, "You're too sweet."

"You're adorable," (Y/n) answers, sending Natasha a warm smile. "Oh, I packed your suitcase last night. I have no idea how long we're going to be gone."

"Where are we going?" Natasha asks as the two begin eating their cinnamon rolls.

"Maryland," (Y/n) answers. "That's where I first met Clint."

"What do you have to do?" Natasha asks, looking interested.

"I was the old Drill Commander, the one I trained about a month after the Sokovia incident, I guess, was KIA on a mission. I've got to go train a new commander, hopefully in a week or less."

"Should we be on our way now?" Natasha asks, as the two had finished their cinnamon buns.

"Yeah, I guess," (Y/n) answers, standing up. "Wait, what are you talking about? You're not even dressed."

"Oh," Natasha looks down at her pajamas and laughs. "I'll be right back," she darts downstairs and comes back downstairs a few minutes later, a hairbrush in her hands. The redhead had changed into a pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt, and the blue leather jacket (Y/n) had given her the day before.

"Come here," (Y/n) says, holding her hand out for the hairbrush. (Y/n) sits down on the couch and Natasha sits down beside her and (Y/n) gently brushes the knots out of the redhead's hair. (Y/n) braids Natasha's hair into a single braid down the back of her head.

"Thanks," Natasha says, smiling warmly at (Y/n).

"No problem," (Y/n) answers, standing up and offering a hand to Natasha. "My lady," she bows, hiding a grin.

The redhead takes (Y/n)'s hand and stands up. "Romantic," she says, her face a little red.

"Let's go," (Y/n) says, still hand-and-hand with Natasha. The two walk over to the door and (Y/n) grabbing her phone and wallet on the way, slipping them into her jacket pockets and Natasha grabs the keys that (Y/n) had left on the hook by the door.

Natasha goes to hand (Y/n) the keys but the (H/C) haired woman waves her off. "I trust you can hold onto them."

(Y/n) grabs the suitcases, handing Natasha hers and the two make their way outside and hail a cab.

The cab driver takes the two to the airport and once there, (Y/n) hands the cab driver a tip and he smiles at her.

"Thanks," he says, nodding.

"You don't have to thank me," (Y/n) says, pulling her's and Natasha's suitcases out of the trunk. What (Y/n) didn't realize was the look Natasha was giving her, but the cab driver saw and he gives Natasha a soft smile. (Y/n) hands Natasha her suitcase, and smiles at her girlfriend. "Let's go!" she says cheerfully.

"You're so generous," Natasha says fondly as the two walk into the airport.

"I bet it's because of you," (Y/n) says, shooting Natasha an affectionate glance. "You bring out my good qualities."

"I'm pretty sure you had them before you met me," Natasha tells (Y/n) as the two walk over to their Quinjet.

"Maybe some," (Y/n) answers vaguely.

The two walk into the Quinjet and pull it into the air.

"This is going to be a pretty short flight," (Y/n) says. "Probably like thirty minutes, so I'm going to get changed."

"Okay," Natasha says, and (Y/n) takes her suitcase.

(Y/n) runs her hair though the hair straightener again before putting her hair up in a tight bun, using some bobby pins to hold up some of the loose hair. Then she pulls off her jacket and shirt, and pulls her light blue button up on, then pulling her dark blue dress pants on, tucking her shirt into them. Then she slides into her dark blue jacket after deciding to leave her medals off of it. (Y/n) checks her shoes for smudge marks, and when seeing none, she pulls them on, tying them tightly. She checks her stars, and makes sure her ribbons are in the right order before grabbing her garrison cap and walking back to the front of the Quinjet, just after putting all her other clothes into the suitcase.

So," (Y/n) settles down back in her pilot's seat, "I've heard that chicks dig a girl with scars, but what about girls in a uniform?"

Natasha does a double take at (Y/n)'s words, her emerald gaze resting on (Y/n). Natasha can't help but think that (Y/n) does looks attractive in the uniform.

(Y/n) goes to say something and her gaze shifts to the front window, where the Quinjet had become stationary in the air. Natasha watches as a wide smile spreads across (Y/n)'s face as she grabs the headphones.

"Captain Stark?" a male voice asks, and (Y/n) playfully rolls her eyes.

"Tom, I told you," (Y/n) says. "You can call me (Y/n)."

"Yeah well, it's not respectful," Tom's voice answers.

"We're going to have to have another conversation when I land," (Y/n) answers, catching Natasha's gaze still on her and (Y/n) flashes her a warm smile.

"Speaking of that," Tom says. "You have clearance to land on Runway Two."

"Thanks Tom," (Y/n) says, flicking a couple of switches, pressing a few buttons, and grabbing the stick. After a moment, the Quinjet lands on the ground. "Right," (Y/n)'s gaze shifts back to Natasha. "If I get tackled, it's fine," (Y/n) says, and Natasha sends her an incredulous look and (Y/n) laughs, standing up. "Come on," (Y/n) says, grabbing her garrison cap. The back of the Quinjet open and there are a couple of people standing a couple of yards away.

(Y/n) nods to Natasha and the two walk down the ramp together. (Y/n) stops in front of Ryan and salutes him. Ryan nods and (Y/n) drops her salute. The Commanding Officer smiles and gives (Y/n) a hug.

"Glad to have you back," Ryan says, smiling warmly at his formerly appointed Drill Commander.

"Told you I'd come back," (Y/n) says, then she waves Natasha forward. "Ryan, this is Natasha." Ryan nods and shakes Natasha's hand, the Commanding Officer impressed by her firm handshake. "Where's Sam?" the (H/C) haired woman asks.

"Here," Sam's deep voice comes from behind Ryan.

"Sammy," (Y/n) says, grinning at the African American man and she gives him a hug.

"Hey, it's nice to see you," Sam answers then he turns to Natasha. "Who's your friend?"

Natasha steps forward, holding out her hand, "I'm Natasha, (Y/n)'s girlfriend." At the words, (Y/n) beams as Sam shakes Natasha's hand.

"It's nice to meet you," Sam says, nodding to Natasha.

"You ready for me to destroy you?" (Y/n) asks Sam, and the man's attention turn back to his friend.

"Oh, you're really doing that right now?" Sam asks in a playfully threatening voice.

"Oh yeah, I'm definitely going to win," (Y/n) says. "Nat can officiate, though they're's no need."

"What's happening?" Natasha asks Ryan, the two watching with amusement.

"You'll see," Ryan says vaguely, and Natasha looks between her girlfriend and Sam.

"I guess before we get to why I'm here, we'd better get this over with," (Y/n) says, an amused glint in her (E/C) eyes.

"I'd change unless you want to run in that," Sam advises. "We've got a place for you and Natasha while you're here. Just grab your stuff."

"Come on Nat," (Y/n) says and the two jog up the Quinjet's ramp, and grab their suitcases. Then the two make their way back out and follow Sam. He lead the two to a place the (Y/n) definitely recognizes. "Sam, didn't you take this place after I left?" she asks.

"I did, but we renovated it about a week or so ago and added an extra room," Sam says as the two walk through the door.

"I literally spent months living here," (Y/n) tells Natasha.

"The room you had is free, I took the newer bedroom," Sam says, nodding towards the door.

"Right, thanks Sam," (Y/n) says and her and Natasha walk into the bedroom. "This bring back memories," (Y/n) says, setting her suitcase on the bed. (Y/n) unzips her suitcase and pulls out a pair of black Nike shorts and a white athletic shirt.

Y/n) walks over to the bathroom, changes real quick and hangs her uniform up in the closet. She pulls out her black and white Nikes from earlier in the morning, and pulls them on and tying them.

"I thought you wanted to see how we went before we told anyone?" (Y/n) asks, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Natasha.

"I feel like we're going to be together for a long time," Natasha admits and (Y/n) smiles warmly.

"Forever," (Y/n) says, giving her a soft kiss, and Natasha's heart swells. "Come on," (Y/n) stands up, offering her hand and Natasha takes it, the two walking out into the living room.

Word Count: 3121 words

So, I the next chapter is really great at the beginning. We have Sam and (Y/n)'s friendly competition with Natasha to watch.

Anyway, the next chapter should be out sometime next week. I've got to work on my other books.

See y'all!

Love, Kaitlynn ❤😍

Imma tag peoples now: @confusinggemini612, @gay-disaster826, @thelastavenger-3000, @osugahunnyicedtea, @night-howl199, @minicastle, @happilyeverafterfantasybooks, @billiebanner, @me-and-sweatpants, @scottjudah, @scarlet-raccoon, @whore-for-charlynch, @nyx-aria, @night-howl199, @brittanyrenne2004, @juegamiri29, @minicastle, @peggycarter-steverogers, @gay-disaster826, @guitargodme, @avengers-avenging, @natashadeservedbetter2

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thewritewolf · 4 years

Text

Black Cats and Chinese Takeout

Marinette is dealing with a broken leg, but thankfully Chat Noir is there to help keep her company while she is homebound. A light hearted Marichat story.

I wrote this for @firebird525 for the discord secret santa!

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“Marinette, be careful! You don’t want to-”

“Make it worse, yes, I know,” Marinette replied curtly as she hobbled to the couch with her crutches. “I haven’t suddenly forgotten about my broken leg since the last time you told me to be careful.”

“Right.” Marinette glanced over and saw how Tikki’s antenna dropped. Taking a deep breath, Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose to clamp down on her frustration. She was just being concerned for her, after all.

“I’m sorry for snapping, but I don’t like being coddled.” Which was an understatement. With everything that had happened, she felt more vulnerable than ever. Tikki assured her that even outside of the suit she’d heal quickly, but that didn’t help her now. She slowly adjusted herself so her leg was elevated and gestured at the cast. “And this thing doesn’t give me a whole lot of choice in the matter.”

“Well, you know what they say,” came a voice from the window. “A princess deserves to be waited on hand and foot.”

“That pun doesn’t even work,” Marinette said, glaring at a grinning Chat Noir. “My leg is hurt, not my foot.”

He shrugged as he entered the apartment through her window. “Are you sure you didn’t break your funny bone? That joke was pretty humerus to me. Ah well. I guess I’ll just have to do some research ahead of time. You know, get a leg up on it.”

Marinette was unimpressed by his rapid-fire punning. Although she only had herself to blame - Chat was always one to double down on his jokes whenever she pointed out their flaws. Her lips were pressed into a thin line when she saw the two styrofoam take-out containers he was carrying in a plastic bag.

“You don’t have to bring food everytime you come,” she said, but her words were immediately uncut when her stomach growled in protest. “Ignore that.”

“No, ignore her,” Tikki said from her place on Marinette’s shoulder. She deftly dodged out of the way of Marinette’s hand as she half-heartedly swatted at her. “She has been in a mood today. A grumpy one too.”

Chat chuckled. “Looks like you’ve been outvoted, princess.” He tapped at his chin. “Or should I call you ‘my lady’ even when you’re outside the mask?”

“I’d rather you use neither of them,” she said with a huff, crossing her arms.

“I know you don’t mean that. Here.” He passed her a container along with the proper cutlery. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”

“I don’t know, kitty. I don’t trust Chinese food in Paris. Not unless it’s made by my maman.” Despite her words, she begrudgingly she took the offered box. Her eyes widened when she saw the logo on the box. “Is this…?”

“Yup! The owners are close friends of your mom’s, right? I think you told me once that they were about the only people to get it as close to perfect as possible.”

Marinette looked back at her partner and narrowed her eyes. “I definitely did not tell Chat Noir that. It’s bad enough that I messed up - you at least still have to protect your identity.”

His tail flicked back and forth, the only outward sign of his irritation. He grumbled, “Seems kinda pointless now, doesn’t it? It can’t hurt us that much now. Might as well get it over with.”

“No, Chat. And that’s final.” She opened her container and a heavenly scent hit her nose. Despite her annoyance, she sighed in bliss. “Chicken chow mein. My favorite.”

“Oh! Speaking of your favorites…” Chat reached into his magic pockets and pulled out a single red tulip. “For you, my buginette.”

She eyed the flower. While it was definitely her favorite, she wondered if he was aware of its meaning, representing true love. Knowing her cheesy romantic of a partner, it seemed likely.

“Leave it on the table, I’ll find a vase for it later.” She patted the spot on the couch next to her. “Now come on, you got enough food for the both of us. Take a seat.”

Marinette smiled and raised an eyebrow when she saw that he had gotten shrimp fried rice. “Fish for the cat, huh?”

“I promise it’s not just because of the suit, Mari,” he said with a wink.

They ate in silence for a few moments. Despite everything, she did enjoy his company. And he’d been nothing but respectful ever since he discovered her identity, even toning down on the flirting. Although there hadn’t been any akuma fights since her accident, he had made a point of visiting her every night and making sure she was recovering. Usually tag-teaming with Tikki to keep her from doing anything strenuous.

Most of the time, it almost felt like nothing had changed and they were just bantering on the rooftops of Paris in their suits. She was grateful for it at first, but then as he dropped more and more hints that he knew her as a civilian, she began to get worried. Did he back off to let her heal? Or was he no longer interested now that the mystique of Ladybug had been exposed?

It was an irrational fear, she knew that. But she couldn’t help herself. Once the idea had occurred to her, it was hard to shake off.

“You didn’t mess up.”

She was startled out of her own head by Chat’s murmured words. He was watching her carefully. How long he was watching her, she had no idea.

“What?”

“Getting hurt. That was just an accident - you didn’t mess up anything. We beat the akuma perfectly fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but that just makes it worse. Since I busted my leg leaving the fight, that means it didn’t get healed like the rest of the city.”

“More terrifying than any akuma fight,” Chat said with a shiver. “Seeing you cry out in pain and just crumble was horrible.” He nudged her with a smirk. “But hey, at least it will make for a funny story later.” He held up his hands as if making a picture frame. “The time Paris’s darling, Ladybug, crashed into a billboard of Paris’s golden child, Adrien Agreste.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “Don’t remind me. I’m just glad Alya wasn’t there to get pictures for the Ladyblog. That would’ve been a disaster.”

“And don’t worry - I’ll only tease you about it a little,” he said while patting her back. “I’ll even wait until you’ve recovered.”

“Thanks for bringing me home, by the way.” She gave him a weak smile. “Getting an ambulance to pick me up at home was also very sweet of you. Especially since you were panicking along with me.”

“I wasn’t freaking out! This cat was cool as a cucumber.”

“You were crying as you carried me home.”

“I was feeling a lot of emotions, okay? I finally knew who my lovely lady was.”

“In fact,” she continued, now smirking. “You confused the emergency number because you said that we had a broken leg. I had to explain when they got here that it was just me. My friend had only been very concerned.”

“Can you blame me?” He huffed and pouted. “I was worried… You know how much I care about you.”

Mhm,” she said, even as her heart fluttered. “And thanks for all that, by the way.”

“No problem,” he muttered while picking at his rice again. “Not exactly the romantic reveal I’d had planned, but I’ll take it.”

“...I know I’ll regret asking, but what did you have planned?”

He grinned and rubbed his hands together. He put a hand on her opposite shoulder. “Picture this: Candlelit picnic on the Eiffel Tower. Then a visit to the street where we first met, reminiscing on our first few outings together. How much we’d changed. Then we go to our favorite spot-”

“That alcove in Notre Dame’s tower?” She glanced down at his tail, which had gently wrapped around her waist. He hadn't seemed to notice yet.

He smiled proudly. “The same! With that privacy, we could finally drop our transformations and see each other for who we really are. No masks, no suits. Just us.”

“And a pair of hungry kwami.”

“And that,” he acknowledged with a nod.

“It sounds more like a first date than a reveal ceremony, kitty.”

“Oh, by that point we’d have been dating for ages.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You couldn’t resist my raw animal magnetism and good looks.”

“Uh-huh.”

He sighed. “Missed opportunities.” A grin lit up his face. “Although falling for me is still on the table.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The return of their familiar dance - flirting and pushing him back - lifted a weight of her shoulders as she returned to her food. A comfortable silence settled between them, Marinette feeling more at ease than she had been ever since getting the stupid cast.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Her eyes widened and she looked at Chat. He was wearing the same soft, loving smile that he always wore whenever he thought she wasn’t looking. It was something achingly familiar to her when she was behind the mask. But seeing it directed at her now did more than the last six years of Chat’s flirting had. A blush spread across her face as her breath caught, a realization bubbling to the surface.

Somewhere along the line… she had fallen in love with her silly kitty.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Marichat #Tikki #ml fanfiction #my writing #Black Cats and Chinese Takeout #aspsecretsanta

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dumbchickwrites · 4 years

Text

office affairs -- part 4

Pairings: CEO!Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sam is the CEO of the Red Wing PR agency where Reader has been working for the past two years. Problem is, they both think one hates the other. However, when their friends set them up on a blind date, they’ll realise it was all a big misunderstanding.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: language, Reader is still thirsty, fluff, Mimi wants to gossip.

A/N: This series is part of @marvelmaree‘s birthday challenge. You can find the masterlist on my blog and hers! Enjoy!

Brunch with your friends and your sister is always a good time. You can’t complain. You have drinks, food and some of the people you love the most. And on this particular Sunday, you still feel the euphoria of your date with Sam.

All weekend you tried to let it go already, telling yourself that you were acting like a middle school girl. But at the same time, who cares, right? Once again, you reminded yourself to let yourself be for a moment, without your self-consciousness stopping you from simply feeling.

“Is she daydreaming again?”

“I bet she’s thinking about Sam.”

“Who’s Sam?”

“No one, baby. Eat your food.”

Someone snaps their fingers in front of your face. You blink a couple of times before frowning at the owner of said hand. Maria doesn’t flinch under your glare.

“Where did you go?” Noelle asked.

You take a sip of your mimosa before you answer.

“Back at L’Orage.”

“Annnnd…?” Natasha pushes.

“We—” you begin, but your gaze meets Michelle’s.

She’s looking at you like she also wants all the tea. Your eyes lower to her empty plate, hers follow your gaze. You know what she’s thinking, and she knows what you’re thinking.

“Mimi, you’re done eating right? Why don’t you go watch some TV inside?” you say before her little hand reaches the basket of pastries on the table.

“But—”

“Auntie Henny is right,” Noelle cuts her and you roll your eyes at the nickname. “We don’t want you to get sick, right?” she says, rubbing her belly.

“Okay, Mommy. Can I get more juice from the fridge, please?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you!”

Just like that, she’s back inside the house.

“I thought the use of that nickname was forbidden in this house,” you say.

“We’re in the backyard,” your sister gives you an innocent smile.

You throw your napkin at her but she easily catches it.

“Anyways. We kissed.”

“Huh,” Natasha crosses her arms over her chest and lays back on her chair. “But?”

“What?”

“There’s a but. There’s always a but with you,” Maria says.

“There’s no but. We kissed, that’s it. It was a very nice kiss. Then he took me home—Back here!” you add quickly when you see how big Maria and Natasha’s eyes got. “He said he’s down for a second date.”

“So how do you feel about him?” Maria asks.

“Do you want me to tell you you were right? Because that’s not gonna happen.”

Maria gives you a look. You sigh.

“It turns out he doesn’t hate me at all. He was actually kind of shocked when I talked to him about that. He thought I didn’t like him,” you take another sip of your drink. “I like him a lot. He’s nice, funny, he listens to me when I talk.”

“Annnnnd…?” this time it comes from Noelle.

“And I kinda want him to bend me over a desk some time.”

The four of you burst out laughing like madwomen.

“More seriously, I guess I should thank you guys. I had a really nice time.”

“Aw, you’re welcome, sweetie,” Natasha rubs your arm. “Personally, I think you guys are a match made in heaven. Literally.”

“Don’t jinx it, Nat!” Maria exclaims.

Natasha makes a zipping motion over her lips with a little smirk.

As Noelle refills your champagne flutes and you move on to another topic – here Noelle and Laetitia, the mother of the new kid in Mimi’s class --, you can’t help but feel grateful for this moment.

You were lucky to find people you can rely on other than your sister after so many years. After everything that happened. Sure your sister is your best friend and vice versa, but sometimes you can’t help but feel guilty about all the stuff you dump on her.

It’s not easy for you to interact with people and maintain healthy relationship. You try your best to find a nice balance between over communicating and totally isolating yourself. You’re still a work in progress though.

That’s why all this dating business was pushed aside for a few years.

Maria and Natasha end up spending the rest of the day at your house. You order takeout, drink some more – responsibly though, all while binge-watching Disney movies and playing board games with Michelle. It’s the nicest day you’ve had in a hot minute.

When the girls leave and it’s finally time for bed, you go to sleep with the ghost of today’s smiles still dancing on your lips.

In your opinion, Mondays are overrated. You never understood this whole thing anyway. Sure it’s the beginning of a new week, but it’s still a day like the others.

This particular Monday though, is a bit special. You’re excited to see whether or not Sam had the flowers delivered in your office. So excited that you’re walking around with a huge grin, your face beaming as you step into the elevator.

“Well good morning m’lady,” Scott from HR greets you when you step off the elevator. He’s at the front desk, talking to Rumlow.

“Morning Scott,” you say, still smiling.

“You got a secret admirer, huh?” Scott asks.

“Excuse me?”

“Your office is filled with flowers. And I mean filled. Janet walked by ten minutes ago and she hasn’t stopped sneezing since. Y’know, allergies.”

“Oh, um… I—” you stutter, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m just messing with you, kiddo. Just—If it’s a dude from around here, just make sure you stop by my office some time, ‘kay?”

Okay… You need to end this conversation now. You can feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Honestly, it’s not that you don’t like Scott, everybody likes Scott. It’s just that he can be a bit too much sometimes.

“Sure thing, Scottie. You have a good day, okay?”

You don’t wait for his answer before you keep walking towards your office, climbing the stairs leading to the first floor with ease.

A woman you don’t recognize is standing in front of your office, staring at the glass wall. The cleaning crew must have left the blinds open again despite your multiple notes.

“Hello,” you greet her before you reach your office. “Can I help you?”

You can’t see the inside yet but Scott was right, the scent is strong. Just how many flowers did Sam send?

Her gaze meets yours as she whips her head towards you, her long burgundy hair following the movement. She’s wearing a green suit, a bold but beautiful contrast with her skin tone.

“Hi!” she smiles. “I’m sorry, is this your office?”

“Yes. You’re new here, right?”

“Yes, yes. My name is Gamora, I’m the new Digital Manager,” she offers her hand for you to shake.

You introduce yourself as you shake her hand. “… I take care of—”

“Events, yes. It’s written on your door. Anyways, I was just looking at the flowers in your office. Must be nice. My boyfriend… He’s not really that kind of guy.”

“Um…”

Once again, you don’t know how to talk to people.

“Sorry if I’m being weird.”

“Oh, no, it’s… Don’t worry about it. So where are you from?” you ask.

You figure you should at least try to make small talk with her. She seems nice, she has a very kind face. There’s something about her eyes though… She’s clearly been through a lot.

“I’m from New Asgard, in Norway.”

“Wow, how did you end up here?”

“My boyfriend, Peter. He lives in the US and he asked me to move in with him. I couldn’t say no.”

The name makes you flinch, but you wipe the discomfort away as soon as it appears. Peter is a common name. In this city alone there are hundreds of them. You need to get used to it, it’s been years already.

“Well, on behalf of the entire Red Wing team, I’d like to say welcome,” you give her a genuine smile.

“Thank you so much. That means a lot.” With a sigh, she throws one last glance towards your office before she starts walking away. “I better find Scott, we’re not done with the tour yet. I’ll see you around, I guess?”

“Sure. Have a good day!”

Once she turns around the corner, you take the last few steps that lead you to your office.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

Your office is filled with flowers all right. It’s not just fifty like Sam said. At least a dozen of bouquets of red roses, tulips and peonies are scattered around your office. On your coffee table, the empty spaces on your bookshelf, the floor… everywhere but on your desk. Thank God, the scent isn’t disturbing to you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper again.

You can’t believe your eyes. You set your bag on your desk and draw the blinds over the glass walls to keep the prying eyes out of your business. Walking around a bit, you take the time to inhale and admire every single bouquet.

“Wow, he really wasn’t joking.”

You turn around to find Natasha and Maria standing in your doorway, holding huge mugs.

That’s right the morning coffee. Morning coffee is always in your office on Monday and Wednesday.

“Aw sweetie, don’t cry!” Natasha grabs a tissues from the box on your coffee table and hands it to you.

You didn’t even realize you were crying. Damn, he really had you in the palm of his hand, huh?

“It’s just, no one has ever done something like this for me before, and I feel stupid now because I’m crying for fucking flowers.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid, okay?” Maria chips in. “From what you told us, you’re not used to this kind of treatment, so it’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed right now. Here,” she hands you one of the mugs she’s holding. “Mantis told us you just got in so we figured you didn’t have time to make your cup of tea yet.”

“Thank you.”

You take a sip of the beverage, the hot liquid helping with the lump in your throat.

“Is… Is he here?” you ask.

Their offices are located on the floor above yours along with Sam’s, so you rarely see him during the day.

“Not yet,” Natasha replies. “He’s late. Something about getting Falcon a new cone.”

Oh yeah. He mentioned his dog’s surgery Friday night.

“Good morning, ladies. You talking about me?”

There he is.

Sam is standing in the doorway, a smirk on his lips, always handsome. A warm feeling spreads in your chest at the sight of him, and this morning’s grin is back in an instant.

“Samuel,” Maria greets him. “You’re late.”

“Ah shit. The boss wouldn’t like that, would he?”

“Whatever,” Maria rolls her eyes at him.

“Maria, come to the kitchen with me, I want to see if the pastries have been delivered already,” Natasha says, grabbing Maria’s arm.

“But shouldn’t we go with—” her sentence is cut short by Natasha’s pointed look. “Ohhh. Right.”

The girls shut the door behind them as they exit your office, you and Sam left alone.

“Morning,” he says, slowly approaching you. “Do you like the flowers?”

“I do, very much. What happened to the fifty flowers, though?”

Sam shrugs. “They were supposed to represent the number of times I wanted to kiss you. But as the weekend went by, I lost count, so…”

Goddammit.

“Come here,” you mumble.

You grab his hand and pull him closer to you, your free hand finding its place at the back of his neck. The kiss you give him is slow and sweet as you do your best to express your gratitude. You’ve been on one date, yet he has managed to make you feel more special than you’ve ever felt. He really is something. Sam kisses you back, and you can feel him smile as he does.

“Thank you,” you say when you break the kiss. “This is… wow.”

Sam keeps your body close to his, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“You’re welcome. So… about that second date. How do you feel about roller skating?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I kind of like it. I haven’t skated since I was a kid, though.”

Sam nods. “Dinner and roller skating. Let’s say… Wednesday?”

“Wednesday sounds good,” you smile.

“Okay.”

Sam peppers small kisses on your lips and the corner of your mouth before letting you go. You instantly feel colder.

As he walks to the door, you seat at your desk and power up your computer, ready to start the work day.

“Wait, I need one more,” Sam says.

He rounds your desk and spins your chair so you’ll face him, before giving you another kiss. Once again, he peppers small kisses on your lips and cheeks and this time, you can’t help but giggle.

“It’s not even noon yet and I’m having the best day I’ve had in a while,” he whispers.

“Stop it. You’re gonna make me blush,” you joke.

“Now that would be my greatest achievement.”

Sam leaves shortly after that, leaving you to start working with the same dumb smile from earlier on your lips.

***

Tags: @marvelmaree @ljstraightnochaser @blackmissfrizzle @youdonotghostnickfury @minillamakeup-blog

#maree's29thbirthdaybash #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x black reader

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theodorecanaryhood · 4 years

Text

My favourite teacher

Jason Todd/single dad Jason x female teacher/reader

Jason is single Dad of a little boy named JJ (Jason Jr) and meets his sons teacher for the first time.

You'd been a teacher at Gotham School for about 3 years now, you have been in love with every little soul that comes in your classroom, but you have a soft spot for a little boy named JJ Todd.

You knew his Dad was a single parent, you knew his Grandfather was Bruce Wayne...yeah, that Bruce Wayne. But you'd never met JJ's Father.

It was one Friday afternoon that you had heard of a new addition starting on Monday, you were sitting in your classroom with the 5 year olds when Mrs Ramsey came in.

'Oh, one of the dads is here to pick up their kid. He's in a leather jacket' she said admiring the view.

'You're married' you replied laughing, Mrs Ramsey shot you a look,

'Can still look' she glared, she picked up her book from the desk, the one she gave you last week to read, 'anyway, thank you for giving me this back. I'll see you on Monday'. You waved at her as she left the classroom.

You headed to the backdoor of the classroom that lead into the parent pick up area and opened it to find a man. He was tall, at least 6 foot, black hair with a white streak in the middle, sharp jawline, a strong physique and deep blue eyes.

'Hi sir, can I help?' You asked politely, smiling at him. He looked at you and smiled back.

'Here to pick up my son, JJ' the man replied,

'Daddy' JJ called out as he ran over to his dad, who picked him up and swung him round. Planting kisses on his face.

'You're JJ's Dad?' You asked curious. Mostly in shock that this God of a man was single.

'I am, Jason Todd' he replied, holding out his hand for you to shake. You shook his hand.

'Y/n y/l/n' you replied, JJ smiled at you as he reached out for you.

'Think he wants a hug' Jason stated, you obliged and gave JJ a hug. 'JJ does not stop talking about you. Always telling me about miss y/l/n his favourite teacher' Jason admits shyly, JJ hides his face in Jason's chest, going red.

'Oh really? Well you know JJ, you're my favourite student. Just don't tell the other kids, they'll get jealous' you reply smiling.

'Well little man, let's get you home and fed, was lovely to finally meet you' Jason said as he walked over to the gate.

'You too Mr Todd' you replied, Jason turned to look at you,

'Call me Jason' he called out as he turned around and left.

...

It had been a month since you met Jason, you were curious as to who JJ's mother is, but you never asked.

There was a knock at the backdoor as the kids were colouring, you put your coffee down on the desk and walked over to the door.

'Hey, go on in' you heard as Claire, a little girl who never really spoke nor mixed in with other kids, walked right passed you to her seat.

'Excuse me' you said, the Mother of Claire looked at you.

'What?' She snapped, looking right through you.

'It's 10.30, my classroom starts at 8.30. Why is she late?' You asked, sternly.

'I was sick this morning, couldn't get her to come in on time' the Mother replied, you'd had run ins with her before. She was a nasty piece of work.

'Right, did you phone the office to say she was coming late?' You asked, the woman just rolled her eyes.

'My electricity got cut off last night. I don't have power on my phone to call' she replied, shortly.

'I apologise, I didn't know. You do need to try and get her here in time though please. Even if you get someone to bring her for you' you informed politely.

'Well...' the woman mumbled, you looked at her as if studying her. Narrowing your eyes a little.

'Look at me' you said, Claire's Mother looked you in eye confused. 'Oh my God, you're high' you whispered. The woman just put her head down.

'I just, had to make myself feel better' she replied, you pulled out your phone.

'I would like you to leave the premises, I'm going to speak to social services' you said, beginning to shut the door.

'You can't do that, you have no right' she screamed,

'I can if I feel your child's at risk' you snapped back, giving a quick glance in case she has anything sharp on her.

'You bitch' she yelled as she stepped forward, as she lifted her arm up, a hand grabbed her wrist to stop her.

'The Lady asked to leave the premises, do so or be thrown off it. Your choice' Jason said as he looked her dead in the eye.

'Fuck' She breathed out as she walked off, you looked at the students in your classroom, they didn't really hear or see anything.

'You OK?' Jason asked as he gently whacked your shoulder, you nodded.

'Yeah, thanks. She can get nasty sometimes' you replied, 'what are you doing here?' You asked, Jason sighed and pulled out a little bag.

'Little man forgot this, found it on the backseat of my car' Jason said, 'his lunch'.

'I see, well I'll give it to him. Thank you'

'No need to thank me, I should be thanking you. Little man gets cranky when he's hungry' Jason said, chuckling.

You smiled as you took the bag off of Jason, holding it to your side.

'Was wondering, what are you doing after work?' Jason asked you, you smiled a little.

'Takeout and netflix, why?' You asked, Jason laughed a little.

'Wanna do that somewhere else? Like maybe my place?' Jason asked once more, winking at the end.

'Very forward of you' you chuckled, 'I would be dumb to say no' you smiled.

'Wait for real?' Jason asked almost skeptic, you just laughed and kissed his cheek.

'For really real' you said, winking at him this time.

...

It was later that night, you showed up at Jason's. You were very aware that JJ would be up still, this would be a funny story for when he's older. His teacher showing up to his house, for a date with his dad. Little patters to the door threw you off the thought.

'Miss y/l/n?' JJ's little voice spoke, both in confusion and delight to see you at his front door.

'Hey tough guy' you smiled, calling him the nickname you gave him, 'daddy in?' You asked. JJ nodded and ran from the door. Of course, not before pulling you in first.

'Daddy, my teachers here' you heard JJ shout in delight in the kitchen, you just stood laughing.

'Hey' Jason said happily as he came over and hugged you, 'take off your jacket, make yourself comfortable' Jason said as he took your bag.

You walked into the kitchen with him, JJ sitting on the floor playing with his toy cars happily.

'Little man, you have 10 more minutes before bathtime' Jason said, JJ just hummed in response.

'You want a drink y/n?' Jason asked you,

'Whatever you're having' you responded, you noticed JJ looking at you weird.

'Whose y/n?' He asked you serious, you chuckled.

'I am, that's my first name' you smiled, JJ just shrugged and carried on.

...

After JJ's bath and bedtime story, it was date time. You got to know Jason a little more, he got to know you too.

'I had no idea your family was so extended' you said to Jason, Jason just nodded. 'Wish I had a rich dad' you confessed.

'He wasn't really around all the time. Until it came to, certain aspects' Jason replied,

'He wasn't a bad dad though, otherwise you wouldn't be such a kind person. Or a great Dad' you admired.

'That's very sweet of you to say' Jason said shyly, you took a sip of your coffee and noticed the time.

'Holy shit, it's late' you gasped, Jason looked at the clock. Not wanting the night to end.

'I guess' he sounded sad, you stood up and walked over to him.

'Stand up' you demanded, Jason just looked at you, he obeyed and stood up. You locked eyes with him, realising just how tall he is. Leaning in and kissing him deeply. Jason grabbed you and kissed you back.

'I've been waiting for that' Jason whispered as you both broke away.

'Was as perfect as I imagined' you replied softly, you both kissed once again as you held onto his arms.

'My God, so hard to say goodnight' Jason said, you looked at him.

'Don't want to leave' you whispered, Jason smiled.

'You don't have to'

'Really?' You asked, Jason picked you up so your legs wrapped around his waist. He walked you to his bedroom as you kissed.

...

The next morning JJ did his usual and ran into the bedroom to wake his dad. They would eat cereal and watch cartoons together every morning.

'Daddy, daddy. It's morning, come on, wake up Daddy' JJ's voice sang through the room.

'I'm awake little man, don't wake up y/n' he whispered, JJ looked over and saw you sleeping next to his Dad and shook with excitement.

'She stayed' he gasped, Jason just laughed as he picked up JJ and carried him to the living room.

...

You walked into the living room to find Jason and JJ sitting eating lucky charms and watching Spongebob.

'Morning Doll' Jason beamed, JJ smiled brightly at you.

'Hi' you smiled back.

It wasn't an end to a night, it was a beginning to something amazing and special. You'd never loved your job more than right now.

#red hood #gotham #jason todd #batman arkham series #batfamily #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #single #daddy #dadlife #teacher

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

Coffee with Cream

Chapter 2: Dream of You

full masterlist

series masterlist

Pairings: Frank Castle x reader x Mad Sweeney

Word count: 2,693

Warnings: cussing, mentions of alcohol, street fight, men being men.

Summary: Two men, one diner and little old you. Working at a diner had never been your dream job but, fate had a funny way of bringing two contrasted men into your life.

a/n: hey guys! as you all know my obsession over frank castle and pablo schreiber had been exploding these past couple of months. and so, me and @nellblazer decided to write a good old threesome fic involving these two bulky men. hope you like it. enjoy!

You laid in your bed that night with a romance novel that you hadn't had the chance to pick up and finish in awhile due to the weariness of working double shifts. It's the same old pattern for the last few years; you'd get up early for your morning shift at the diner, rushed back home to take a little break, and possibly enjoy your catnaps before your second alarm rings for your night shift.

And then when the night was ending, you'd take another bus to get yourself home, take a shower and eat your takeout or heat up your frozen pizza, and went to bed. For years, life was merely a repetitive cycle of humdrum. You barely had time for yourself due to your relentless endeavour to stay afloat.

Living in Brooklyn when you come from a middle-class family means that you really had to fight tooth and nail to pay the bills and fill your fridge. You were raised to be an independent and hardworking person by your parents and that's why it wasn't much of a challenge for you to work double shifts at a diner when you could've taken one. You taught yourself to push through your boundaries in life, and you were aware that sometimes it's not always convenient but at least you were proud of your own effort.

That also means you didn't have time to swipe right and left on Tinder and find yourself a date. It was nearly impossible to find a decent guy in Brooklyn, let alone trusting a dating app that could possibly be utilized by creeps or murderers to find their next victim. Although your co-workers had suggested it many times to you, you refused to present yourself to the angels of death just simply you were desperate to get laid.

But tonight was different from the others. It was comical, really, how one, well, two, actually people could walk into your life, okay that was dramatic, walk into a diner and elevated the sour mood that you had grown used to in recent years, and made a difference. A good one.

You couldn't remember the last time you had a genuine smile on your face. You also couldn't remember when was the last time you felt butterflies in your stomach. And here you are, lying in bed, replaying the scenes that took place earlier. In the daylight when the bustle was in full swing and in the nighttime when the city was placid.

You barely knew anything about them and you had only met them in less than 24 hours, but, you could still remember the way Frank Castle made you feel when his brown eyes stared intensely into yours as he shook your hand. The quiet yet magnetic force that he exuded only compelled you to learn more about him. In the brief conversation that you had earlier, you knew that he was a wanderer of a man.

He'd been hoping from one place to another, but he was thinking of staying in Brooklyn for a while and you were hoping that nothing changes his mind about that. You were really hoping that you'd see him again real soon.

And then, your thoughts drifted to the second man that you encountered with earlier. His auburn hair burned the lights in the room, causing a small fire that you didn't light up. But his amorous words had left you starstruck in a way that you didn't know was possible. You weren't one to stumble on a brazenly flirtatious man but something about him was too tempting to be overlooked. And the fact that he had this eccentric thing for coins made you wonder... What else has he got up in his sleeve?

Sweeney hadn't been able to get you off his mind all night.

The grumpy server who'd taken over had definitely not been a patch on your sunny optimism or brimming curiosity. He couldn't remember the last time a girl was so interested in his stories. Usually he got brushed off as a leering drunk or just a plain old letch but you'd entertained him, asked questions and given him a form of fresh cream to boot, all for him. A form of worship as it was.

You hadn't realised it of course, nobody ever believes in gods these days unless they're the Big Three or the Norse pantheon. Little old Sweeney with his Celtic cohort was hardly going to register on anyone's radar. I mean, fuck, nobody could even say his actual name right, let alone believe he was a god.

Even so, he felt refreshed, more refreshed than he'd been in years and when he got absolutely blasted on whiskey, the feeling was not the same as it was. The crippling existentialism was gone to be replaced by joyfulness and he sang most of the way home, thoroughly amusing everyone on his way back with his rude songs. He even danced with an old lady like they used to do in the twenties which he thought had made her night as she blushed furiously and began saying it'd been a while since she'd danced with a young man in the street.

Sweeney was having the time of his life, precisely up until he got in the alleyway and his loud singing got him into trouble.

There was a group of thugs hanging around in the middle, trying to sort something out but Sweeney didn't care to venture too close to find out what precisely.

“-Well I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me, who owns that thing in your thing where my own thing should be!” he belts out, stumbling slightly in their direction and he sees the flash of irritation on their faces.

The next thing he knew he was getting dog piled on. Bodies seemed to leap on him from every corner and all he could think about was protecting his coin at all costs so he sent it in the Hoard, the magical hiding place for his treasure and once he'd taken a few harsh licks to the gut, he tried to pull himself together to fight back.

Drunken brawling was his speciality after all.

He wasn't expecting it when a couple of the gang members were yanked off of him. He took the opportunity to jump back to his feet, delivering a haymaker to the nearest lad who's cheek splintered under his weighted punch. The kid dropped to the floor like a stone, howling about his face.

The next man behind him, he twisted and grabbed around the middle, running them backwards to the edge of a dumpster before letting go and watching his head clang noisily off the metal as they fell backwards.

Oh it had been a good long while since he'd had a fight. He missed the adrenalin, he missed the cracking of bones and the taste of blood. It spoke to his soul that was millennia old when the world was war, ale and feasting.

Sweeney finally looked up to see that another man was fighting with him, a shorter man, stockier and well built, a nose that'd been broken at least once and the buzzcut styling of an ex-military man. The newcomer shifted his position and Sweeney saw a painted skull on his chest. His first thought was that Baron Samedi was expanding his worshipper's network but it didn't make sense for the Baron to recruit a soldier when he preferred his company to be a little more love and less war.

Who the fucking hell was this guy?

“You okay?” the man asks gruffly as he sees Sweeney staring at him. “Get out. Run.”

“I ain't fuckin' runnin',” Sweeney wrinkles his face in offence. “Do I look like a pansy to you?”

“You look fuckin' drunk is what ya look,” Skull Man counters, elbowing an attacker in the mouth. “I'll handle it. Run home.”

“Callin' me a coward?” Sweeney squares up. “I don't run, boy-o.”

“Really?” Skull Man raises an eyebrow. “Ain't the time for pride, Big Red. Fight or don't fight then. I don't care. Just stay outta my way with that one.”

He points to the man who Sweeney had knocked out on the dumpster. His eyelids were fluttering as he started to regain consciousness.

“What's it worth to ya?” Sweeney shrugs.

“Are you fuckin' kidding me?!” Skull Man storms over, coming up until he was chest to chest. “I save your ass and this is what I get?”

“Didn't ask to be saved, lad.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, right back.”

Just at the point where Sweeney is curling his fingers into a fist, ready to give a good old right hook, he's hit hard in the head from behind and goes down onto his forearms, scuffing them with pebbles and dirt. He scrambles unsteadily to his feet, feeling a little trickle of blood oozing down the path of his hair and sees Skull Man beating the living shit out of the dumpster guy before finishing him off with his bare hands.

Sweeney, meanwhile, jumps back into the fist fight, taking down every other gang member who'd dared to get back up. They make a break for it, running desperately down into the other alleyways and out of sight.

“You'd better run!” Sweeney bellows after them. “You'd all be fucked if I still had my spear. I WAS A FUCKING KING ONCE, YOU CUNTS!”

“I've heard some drunk talk in my time but you...” Skull Man shakes his head. “You're crazy, huh?”

“I'm a god, mate,” Sweeney holds out his arms proudly, swaying on the spot.

“Sure ya are.”

“And what the fuck are you, murderer?”

“Nobody you need to know about. You ain't seen me. I don't exist. I'm just taking out the trash of this city.”

“Oh aye? Are ya? And what did he do?”

“Shot up a playground.”

“Oh...” Sweeney tails off, looking at the dead man on the floor. “Well....good then. Good work. Bastard deserved it.”

He holds out his hand and Skull Man shakes it warily. Sweeney got the sense the guy didn't interact with people much because the handshake was stilted, unsure.

“Got a name?” Sweeney asks. “Or are ya hellbent on being mysterious?”

“It's Frank,” the guy replies after a pause. “But I was-

“-Never here, I got that,” Sweeney snorts. “I'm Sweeney.”

“Sweeney the God. A'ight, go on home then. I got clean up to do.”

“Nice fightin', by the way,” Sweeney calls over his shoulder. “See ya around, Frank.”

“I fuckin' hope not,” comes the quiet response.

Sweeney didn't care though. He was too elated to care. Good booze, a good fight and the promise of going back to that sweet little diner where you were.

He'd have to come in earlier just to spend more time around you. He wanted to know everything about you and more than anything, he wanted to see your smile again.

A god he may be but your smile was absolutely magical.

He sang the whole rest of the way home, already looking forward to tomorrow.

#mad sweeney fanfic #mad sweeney x reader #mad sweeney x y/n #mad sweeney imagine #mad sweeney fic #mad sweeney series #frank castle x reader #frank castle x y/n #frank castle imagine #frank castle series #frank castle fanfic #frank castle fic #mad sweeney #frank castle #american gods #the punisher #pablo schreiber #jon bernthal

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solynaceawrites · 4 years

Text

Promise Me Forever [8]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 8/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

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"Oh, it's gorgeous!" Kyrie gushes.

Lir smiles at her, still holding the dress up to her shoulders. The wedding gown—something she's had to get used to saying, the disbelief that this is actually happening not quite gone yet—is only halfway done, with sections pinned together, but the sentiment is sweet. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course! It's going to be beautiful on you, I can tell." Putting the bundle in her arms on the foot of the bed, Kyrie crosses the room to run her fingers over the silk of the bodice. "I might have to ask you to make mine, if . . ."

A blush stains her cheeks as she falls silent. "If Nero ever proproses?" Lir prods, gently, and she nods. "I'm certain he will. You two have been together for some time now, haven't you?"

"Unofficially. yes. Officially, only about a year or so. Are you going to add lace?"

Lir carefully carries the gown over to the mannequin and hangs it. All of these things, the fabric, the doll, the sewing equipment, had been sent by her mother, along with a pattern and strict instructions not to deviate from it. Her little rebellion is the red beads she intends to sew into the edges of the veil. "Yes. The skirt and bodice will both have lace."

"Well, how can I help?" Kyrie asks. "I know a bit of sewing, but you can give me directions."

"You can help me pin the bottom hem if that's alright," she replies.

Kyrie agrees, and the two work together to put the straight pins in to fix the rough edge. Once that is completed, Kyrie helps her slide the dress on so she can make adjustments and ensure the bottom is even. Lir stands on a chair, watching Kyrie work in the mirror, trying to keep herself from feeling excited.

At least, not too excited. Her parents had been thrilled with the news, and it was little trouble to arrange for some food and refreshments with the money they sent. The wedding and ceremony were going to take place right in the Devil May Cry, and Lir had spent the better part of two weeks getting the place ready with deep cleaning, some fresh paint, and repairs. Dante had humored her well enough, even going so far to help when she asked, but he did not seem to share her enthusiasm.

Kyrie is just finishing up when there is a knock on the door. "Don't come in!" Kyrie shouts, but Dante already has the door open. She hurries over waving her hands. "Don't look! It's bad luck!"

"It's not like I haven't seen her befo—ow, ow! Okay!" He enters with his eyes closed, rubbing the tip of his nose. From what she'd heard, Lir gathers that Kyrie had accidentally caught him there with the door. "I came to see if you ladies needed anything. Nero an' I are goin' out to grab some of that paint you asked for, Lir, and I was thinkin' we'd get dinner and bring it home, too."

"That would be wonderful!" It's these small moments of thoughtfulness, more than anything else, that fill her with a bittersweet ache. They make her happy, certainly, but with them come the what-ifs that she doesn't want to consider: what if they had met under different circumstances, what if they could love each other like they did in the movies? "Where were you thinking?"

"Mm, no clue. 'S why I came up to ask you two."

Kyrie presses her hands together. "I could really go for a cheeseburger right now, with some fries and extra bacon. What about you, Lir?"

"Uh . . ." She catches sight of the hopeful cast to Dante's features. "It sounds great, actually! I'm famished."

"Okay." Kyrie moves back to her, but Lir spies Dante peeking through his fingers. "The dress looks nice," he says, but skirts out the door when Kyrie yelps at him.

Lir is laughing when she turns back to the dress with an annoyed huff. "I don't know how it is you two ended up together," Kyrie chuckles, "but thank goodness. I don't know anyone else who could put up with him for very long."

She pauses in smoothing a wrinkle from the waist, her heart in her throat and her mouth dry. Nero knows, at least in part, why she's here. Dante had told him it was an arranged marriage, and left it at that. Had Nero not informed Kyrie? Should she? Instead, she clears her throat and asks, "Is he truly that difficult to be around?"

". . . No, not . . . not exactly." Glancing in the mirror reveals Kyrie looking at her hands, clasping them slowly in front of her. "I don't know him that well, if I'm honest. I wasn't conscious for a lot of what happened in Fortuna, and he didn't stick around for very long once it was done. It's only been in the past few months that he's really become more of a fixture in our lives outside of showing Nero the ropes, but . . ."

Her gaze lifts to fix on Lir's through the glass. "He's suffered, I think. So, he shuts people out, and closes himself off. It's easier if he doesn't get attached, because he's the only one like himself, you know? So, he's lonely, but he can't do anything about it. Nero was the same way for a long time. Now that we have the orphanage, he's a bit more settled, but both of them are like . . . dogs that have been abused. They're angry, and hurting, and lash out to drive others off."

"Sounds about right," Lir murmurs.

By the time they are finished with the hemming, the guys are downstairs and calling up for them. Kyrie helps her replace the dress and Lir quickly gets dressed before heading downstairs.

They have set up the food on the table in the sitting area. Nero and Kyrie sit on the floor, so Lir steps over Dante's legs to take a spot on the couch next to him. Nero hands her a takeout container that has her burger and fries inside, and Lir digs in. She still isn't used to all of the fried and greasy goodness, marveling how delicious everything is.

"Can't believe you two are really doing this," Nero says. "A few weeks ago it seemed like you didn't want it at all."

"What can I say? Things change." Lir watches as Dante steadfastly picks the pickles off his burger with a frown, smiling a little at the gesture. "A few weeks ago, I didn't know I had a laundry room, if we're listing them."

Nero rolls his eyes. "There's a difference between that and getting hitched. You okay?" He asks Lir. "He didn't blackmail you or anything, did he?"

Beneath the teasing, there's a genuine concern, and she sets her burger down. "No, nothing like that. We just talked about it, that's all. Although I don't think he could threaten me even if he tried. He's too nice for that."

"Don't tell him that," Dante complains, and she laughs.

"Your family is coming, Lir?" Kyrie asks.

She nods, dabbing her face with a napkin. "My parents and my sisters will be here. And some members from our . . . town."

"That's so nice," she says. "It's too bad you don't have any family nearby, Dante."

"Yeah . . ." He scratches his head, as if nervously, and Lir frowns. "Speaking of which," Dante says, "Nero, you want to do me a solid and be my guy? Thing? For the wedding?"

Nero frowns. "You mean best man? Why me?"

"Who else am I gonna ask? Morrison?" Dante snorts. "You're the only one I've really spent time with outside of work, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. Besides, you'd be doin' me a favor, which means . . ." He grimaces. "I'd owe you one."

Nero laughs a bit evilly, but a quick elbow from Kyrie has him swallowing that down. "Sure, yeah, no problem." Then he glances at Lir. "Do I gotta wear a tux or something?"

Lir laughs and shakes her head. "No, it's casual. Just whatever you're comfortable in."

They continue their meal amiably, and Kyrie and Lir discuss some of the details with the other two chiming in with jokes. Once the food is done and cleaned up, Nero steers Kyrie to the door. "Gotta get home before the sitter costs us an arm and a leg," he says. "Hey Dante, I'll be back on Saturday if you need more help."

"Yup," he says, and they say their goodbyes as the couple leaves.

Dante stands next to her by the door, and she looks up as he looks down. "I should probably get started on the painting," he says.

"Actually," Lir replies before he can walk away, "there's something I've been thinking about. That I think we need to discuss."

He makes a face. "I'm already marrying you, what else could you possibly need?"

She gives him a look and he chuckles at his joke. "Fine, fine. What is it?"

"Come sit," she says, butterflies in her stomach as he heads back to the couch.

Once they're settled on the cushions, Dante in his usual sprawl and her with feet tucked under her, she finds it hard to speak. She's been thinking about this for days, and it feels important, yet now that the opportunity has come up to suggest it, nerves leave her struggling for the right words. Dante tilts his head to study her, his amiable expression shifting to concern. "Hey, what's buggin' you? You've got a funny look on your face."

"Do I?" Lir touches her cheeks, then drops her hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He frowns. "Is it serious? Gotta be honest, you're starting to make me a bit nervous."

Her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt, a habit she's picked up since living here that's more liberating than she'd thought it would be when her mother had drilled it out of her. "I think it is, but maybe it's not. It's just . . . We have to convince everyone I've ever known that you and I are . . . Well, that we've been intimate to some degree. They'll expect it. My mother can be . . . difficult, but I've no doubts that she's told them how perfect we are for each other, if only because she doesn't want to feel like she failed to teach me properly."

"I'm not followin'." His brows furrow as he turns to face her fully. "I thought they didn't want us being, uh, intimate before the ceremony?"

"Not like that," she says quickly, "but I'm supposed to be your wife, right? So, they'll judge us based on that, and if something is amiss, they might . . . call it off and find someone else to set up with you."

"Could they?"

"I don't know, honestly. My older sisters are all married or engaged, and Ilya is too young. But they might, if they felt desperate enough, break one of the engagements. There's not a precedent, though, so I don't . . . I don't know."

Dante rolls his eyes, which makes her blush. "I'm marrying you. What more do these people want?"

She swallows the embarrassment she feels at that statement. She knows that he is doing this to keep the seal in its place, and out of obligation from Sparda's promise. Lir has not let herself think for even a moment that he was doing this because he wanted to, or for her, outside of the oath. He had said he liked having her around, and that was more than she could hope for.

Yet hearing his annoyance stings, so she hurries on, "They will want it authentic, I guess. You have to understand, this is our entire lives. Was, anyway. For hundreds upon hundreds of years, waiting for this union. And they have . . ." Lir can't meet his eyes as she murmurs, "Expectations."

"Expectations," he repeats, flatly.

Her entire face is burning now, but she presses on. "For how we'll act around one another, for how affectionate we'll be, particularly during the kiss and in the hours between the wedding and the ceremony." He says nothing, leaving her fumbling. "I thought we could practice."

"Practice what?"

Lir cannot read his tone, which is why her reply comes out in a whisper. "Kissing one another."

"Uh . . . okay." Lir looks up at him in surprise, and Dante shrugs even as she notices the pink that tinges his neck. "I mean, if you think it will help."

"I just thought if the wedding was our first time kissing, it would be awkward, you know?" she says.

Dante nods vigorously. "Yeah. Yeah I can see that. You want to, uh . . . tell me what you want?"

Lir blinks, debating. She hadn't actually expected him to agree, not completely, so she tries to figure out what to do. She slides towards him, kneeling on the couch, and Dante sits up, his arm draped across the back as he leans towards her.

She places her hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "Like this?" she whispers, and presses her lips to his.

Dante is frozen under her, and she counts to three before pulling away. Her heart is pounding despite the brevity of the kiss, and she licks her lips as she glances between his eyes. "Was that okay?"

"Yeah," he answers, his gaze darting to her mouth. "But why not something more . . ."

"More?"

"Yeah. More."

"I don't understand," she murmurs.

He nods, and then she feels one of his hands at the base of her neck, his fingers sliding through her hair and pulling the tie away so it falls around her face. "You should wear it down," he says, "for the ceremony. It looks nice."

There is something there, in his tone, in his eyes, that she does not recognize, yet it makes her pulse race all the same. "Okay."

Dante smiles faintly, his thumb smoothing over her cheek. "Do you remember what we talked about? Before, when I asked you to marry me for real." Hesitant, she nods, and his other arm curls around her waist, holding her against him. "You make that easy to forget sometimes."

Make what easy to forget, she wants to ask, but she can't, because he tugs her back down, sealing his mouth over hers. The grip on her head and her back make her feel safe, and there's the familiar scent of him in her nose, soap and aftershave and a hint of something spicy, like curry, and her heart is in her throat as he kisses her again, and again. Each one is soft, slow, just his lips meeting hers carefully, and Lir tilts her head to make it more comfortable.

The palm on her back pulls her closer so she is halfway laying on top of him as the hand in her hair begins to stroke the locks. The combination is intoxicating, and Lir sighs into his mouth, her hands clenching against his shirt. Dante pulls on her lips and she sinks against him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders.

He pauses, their lips barely touching. "Is this—?"

"Yeah," Lir quickly says. "Can we try it again?"

He lets out a laugh that is half a groan before guiding her back down, and she presses against him eagerly. She has read about this before, both in the books she was allowed and the ones she and her friends would hide, the ones where sex was both wonderful and terrible, but she's never experienced it, and she drinks the sensations in almost greedily. His lips are softer than they look, somehow, not unlike the silk from which she's making her dress, and she nibbles on one, and then the other, until he huffs and draws her in to kiss her properly.

Dante sinks into the cushions, and Lir follows eagerly. She tilts her face as she slides her hands into his hair, tugging on the strands as he does the same to her. She can feel the hand on her back move to her hip, and Lir adjusts one leg, lifting her knee to press on his hip to allow him to feel her thigh. He gives a sound that sends a flutter straight through her, and as his mouth opens she dips her tongue inside, sucking in a tight breath when it meets his.

But then Dante responds aggressively, rolling his tongue into her mouth, licking slowly. His hand grips the back of her thigh, his fingers digging into the denim, and Lir starts to touch him in turn, running her fingers along his neck and shoulders and down the wide expanse of his chest. It is overwhelming, but in the most thrilling and delicious way, and every time Dante makes a noise in his throat she feels it reverberate to her core.

She grips his shirt, using it as leverage to close the nonexistent space between them. All she wants is be closer to him, to bask in the warmth that's radiating from him like a furnace. "Dante," she whispers, and doesn't recognize the pitch of her own voice.

He growls against her lips. The world rocks, shifts, and she is on her back, his thigh wedged between hers, his mouth hot and insistent against her own, his body caging hers to the cushions.

Lir reaches up and presses her palms to his face, the stubble along his jaw scratching her skin. Their lips slant as they deepen the kiss, but when she hears a rip in the leather, it jolts her awake from the kiss. She pulls away, her head hitting the cushion, and they stare at one another in shock. "Sorry, sorry—" he says, practically scrambling off of her.

"No, it was me," she pleads, quickly sitting up. Her eyes fall to the side, heat flushing her face, and she sees the leather of the couch is ripped. Did he do that?"

She glances back and finds him sitting on the edge, sucking in deep breaths. "You okay?" she asks, biting her lip.

"I should be askin' you that." He looks at her, and she thinks there's a flicker of red within his pupils. But it's gone when she leans closer to see. "You alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"What? No! I . . . I enjoyed that." She smiles at him shyly.

"You did?" Dante seems surprised, so she nods with a chuckle.

"Okay," he says, and then grins. He looks utterly charming, and Lir smiles back. "Okay. But maybe we shouldn't do it like that at the wedding."

Lir laughs and shakes her head. "Probably not at that ceremony, no."

The statement sobers them both completely, and they look at one another before looking away. The air is awkward now; Lir wishes they could go back two minutes to when she was in his arms, or better ten, before she had asked him for a kiss.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir needs to go to bed. It's late after a busy day, and she's showered and in pajamas already, teeth and hair brushed, clothes put away, shoes neatly placed by the bedroom door. Her room has been tidied and downstairs the dishes are finishing their cycle in the dishwasher, the shop and the city falling into quiet as it slows down for the night.

But she sits on her bed and stares at the wall in a daze. Every time Lir begins a task, she ends up drifting away, feeling Dante's lips on hers, his hands on her, sinking into the leather couch as he covered her body with his strong one and rocked against her. Her heart skips a beat, snapping her out of it, and Lir blushes furiously, chastising herself for drifting away in a daydream again. It's been like this all evening, ever since she cleaned up downstairs and went to her room, desperate for some space so she could figure things out.

It seems foolish to get her hopes up after something as mundane as a kiss, yet Dante had, quite literally, taken her breath away, and those emotions that she tries to ignore are all the louder now. What happened to the girl who scoffed at those silly, passionate books and the unrealistic expectations they set? Her eyes drop to her lap, where an unfinished bit of knitting rests. Once completed, it will become a quilt that sits at the foot of their marital bed, and she had chosen a red yarn as similar to the color of his coat as she could find.

Only now the act of making it is less obligation and more desire. She has come to treasure the sight of his smile and the sound of his laugh; will this earn one of those from him?

Or, perhaps, another of those kisses?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she mutters, jumping up to shove the knitting into a drawer. She needs to go to bed, get some sleep, and forget about all this. Her feelings will only complicate things, and with the wedding and ceremony in just a few days' time, there is too much to do for distractions.

But before she can climb into bed, Lir knows she won't sleep. A bit of milk will do the trick, she figures, moving to her door to listen. It's been quiet downstairs, so she figures Dante must have gone to bed while she was in the shower. It's almost midnight, so she quietly slips out her door and heads towards the stairs with a glance at his room.

There's no light underneath the bottom of the door, so she breathes a sigh of relief. But when she turns to the top of the steps, Dante is there, and Lir yelps, nearly jumping out of her skin in surprise. "Sorry!" he laughs. "I thought you were asleep!"

"I wasn't . . . What are you doing?" she asks.

"Finishing up that painting. Wanted it to be done for you to see tomorrow. I was just gonna go shower and get to bed myself . . ." His voice drifts off as he rubs the back of his neck, climbing up the last step. "Sorry for scaring you."

"Scaring me?" she echoes. "Why would you think that?"

"Bout hit the roof," he chuckles. "Can't believe you didn't hear me climbing the steps."

"I guess I'm used to you now," Lir replies.

They stare at each other awkwardly. Her face heats up every time she glances his way, thinking about that stupid kiss. Dante is frowning, and she wonders if it's because he's annoyed, or if he feels as strange as she does. She opens her mouth and begins to say, "I was heading downstairs," just as he says, "Is everything okay?" They both laugh, the tension dissolving a tiny bit, and Lir smiles at him.

"Ladies first," he chuckles.

She gestures to the stairs. "I was just going down for a glass of milk. Would you like one?"

"Bit late for milk, isn't it?"

"It always helps me sleep." Her heart pounds in her chest as she waits for his answer, and that's something else that she has to learn to control: these odd, flaring reactions to his presence, his voice. They'll only make this harder on both of them in the end.

Dante looks her over. "Trouble sleeping?"

Lir swallows. "Yeah. Just can't get comfortable, I think."

He nods. She expects him to say goodnight, but instead he doesn't move out of her way; instead, he leans on the railing. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"Um." Uncertain of how to respond, she only stares at him, and the longer the silence drags the more forced his smile becomes, until it's nearly a grimace. "You could . . . sit with me?"

"Sit, huh?" Dante looks visibly nervous, and Lir curses herself for such a stupid request.

"You don't have to," she says quickly. "I'm really fine."

"No, no, I'll do it, uh . . . Sit, hm?" He glances at his bedroom door. "Let me wash off this paint and I'll come and . . . sit."

He steps around her, and Lir watches him hurry into his room and shut the door. Feeling like an idiot, she goes to the kitchen, keeping all but the light over the stove off as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. She decides to opt for hot chocolate instead of the milk, and in a few minutes she is pouring hot water into the mugs over two packets of cocoa mix.

Dante walks in as she tops them both off with a bit of creamer. "Haven't had this since I was a kid," he laughs as she hands him a mug.

He must have showered, because his hair is damp, and his t-shirt clings to his shoulders a bit. Lir feels a bit weak, not really understanding why, but she only nods as she sits next to him at the kitchen table.

She watches nervously as he takes a sip. He pauses with the mug still pressed to his lips, and his eyes widen a fraction before sliding closed as a hum reverberates from his chest. "Damn," he mumbles, "I hate to say that's better than what Mom used to make, but it's pretty close."

Relief fills her, and Lir relaxes against her chair, taking a careful drink from her own cocoa. The silence that descends between them is amiable, comfortable, broken only by the ticking of the clock over the door; it's the little moments like these, where the world is quiet and it feels like it's only the two of them in it, that make it so much harder to ignore the thoughts that have swirled around her lately. Yet, unlike usual, they don't feel foolish or suffocating. Merely there, and she smiles a bit to herself as she studies him, thinking that marrying him won't be so bad.

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #lirael thorne #lir #dante/lir #dante/oc #dante x oc #dmc oc #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #collab #promise me forever #pmf

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thepixarenthusiast · 3 years

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A Bug’s Life (1998)

Pixar’s second animated feature film takes us to the insect world. A colony of ants spend their days collecting food to appease the predatory grasshoppers, who visit once a year to keep the ants in line (heh) and feast on their offering of seeds and grain. The ants oblige out of fear of being squashed and/or eaten? by the grasshoppers. (A quick google search tells me that grasshoppers, in fact, do not eat ants.) The consequence of what happens if the ants do not provide for the grasshoppers or why grasshoppers were chosen as the nemesis of the ants is not exactly clear here, but nevertheless, they make a pretty seedy gang who would certainly make me jump in fear.

Sorry, are those crickets I hear? Are my puns bugging you? Haha ok, no seriously I’ll stop now, but the writers of this movie must have enjoyed the bug puns too because the movie was crawling with them, from the slapstick stick bug, the mosquito ordering a Bloody Mary at the bar fashioned out of a tin can, and “flea circus” led by none other than, P.T. Flea.. Yeah, I think you get the gist. How I would have loved to be a fly on the wall in that writer’s room.

Ok, I’m done, I promise.

In all seriousness, the details and jokes were funny and clever and there were a lot I didn’t notice as a kid. I liked how the circus tent was an old umbrella laying in the grass, the “city” was made out of old snack boxes and takeout containers, the lightening bugs lit up the traffic lights, and the circus train was made out of animal cracker boxes. It was all very clever. I’m sure you could watch it a dozen times and always find something new.

Back to the plot summary. Our hero is Flik, a misfit kind of guy, an inventor who thinks outside of the hive, err, anthill...and marches to the beat of his own drum. It’s your classic tale about the kid who doesn’t fit in, whose flaws end up being the strengths that help him save the day. A Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, if you will.

Flik’s well-intentioned inventions keep getting him in trouble and stressing out the anxious princess Atta, so to get rid of him for awhile, she agrees to let him leave to find warrior bugs to fight off the evil grasshoppers. Of course, Flik mistakes some circus bugs for warrior bugs, and we meet our crew of misfits who keep the antics rolling. We’ve got a walking stick who is constantly used as a prop, a classy black widow spider, a dung beetle who doubles as a helicopter, a hippie moth and praying mantis husband and wife pair, a fat caterpillar with a German accent, a duo of feisty pill bugs who speak another language, and a lady bug who is actually a guy, to ensure endless comedy. They’re really the best part of the movie. They’re cute, funny, and have some of the best lines. Heimlich the caterpillar becoming a beautiful butterfly still gave me a good chuckle as an adult.

Of course, all chaos breaks loose when the ants find out that the warrior bugs turn out to be circus bugs, but in the end our misfits band together, rise up against the evil grasshoppers, and restore peace to the ant colony.

So it’s a story we’ve heard before, and it certainly follows the Disney formula, but it’s still entertaining and creative enough with some memorable characters that make it fresh.

Final thoughts.

Pixar’s sophomore film was an enjoyable 95 minutes. Was I wowed by it? No. It was a relatively straightforward family comedy with a familiar story line and a few memorable characters. As a kid, I loved this movie. I remember watching it often, probably even more so than Toy Story, but that was also probably because I was a bit older when this movie came out, when I could understand a bit better. Watching it now as an adult, I can probably imagine my parents taking us to see it, being glad it wasn’t a total bore to sit through, maybe even laughing a few times, and then mostly forgetting about it. For kids, though, especially ones particularly interested in insects, this movie holds up great. It’s perfect for young ones who may not understand all the adult themes in many of Pixar’s later films like Up and Soul.

Overall, it was fine. It was a non-offensive, relatively entertaining way to spend my afternoon. I probably won’t be revisiting it anytime soon, though, which makes sense as to why out of all the Pixar films that came out during my childhood, this is the one that I have re-watched the least as an adult.

Fun Fact:

So I just looked this up and turns out that the inspiration for A Bug’s Life comes from an Aesop’s fable titled “The Ant and the Grasshopper,” in which a grasshopper begs an ant for food when winter comes and the ant refuses. The moral of this fable is supposed to be about the virtues of hard work and planning for the future. So there ya go! That’s why grasshoppers were chosen as the enemy of the ants, even though they are not predators to ants in real life. Neat!

Best Character:

I’m going to give this one to Flik. He’s a lovable and relatable hero.

Honorable mention: Dot. Atta’s kid sister, and (this will make you feel old), voiced by a 9-year-old Hayden Panettiere. She is very cute and believes in Flik from the beginning, when the other ants don’t. Dot genuinely loves Flik, even when he screws up, which Atta doesn’t really seem to until he proves himself.

Tear-Meter:

0/5 Teardrops. Haven’t experienced any waterworks, yet.

Current Ranking:

2/2

It’s good, but not as creative or interesting as its predecessor. Toy Story holds the top spot for now.

1. Toy Story

2. A Bug’s Life

#pixar #pixarabugslife

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