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persephones-wren · 3 years

Note

Could you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader and Kaz are more than friends but not lovers and the reader is a Crow and therefore, can handle things for herself so she doesn't tell Kaz when a friend's ex is threatening her but Kaz ultimately finds out when the ex comes to the Crow Club and Kaz handles it since as much as he knows she capable, he is still protective of her and it leads to them finally becoming official?

Protective (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

I'm sorry about the ending, I couldn't find a great way to finish it- but maybe I'll fix that when I can think of something. Besides that, I hope you like it! :)

Warnings: depicted abuse, mentions of sedatives, misogynistic language (please let me know if there's any more)

Genre: not fluff

Word Count: 2705

You had a confusing relationship with Kaz.

It was an odd “more than friends, less than dating” relationship. It made sense, considering in the Barrel, women were more property than anything else. Besides, leverage was a thing everyone wanted on Kaz, even his closest allies. He wasn’t going to put himself in a position that made him anyone’s puppet. You didn’t exactly need him to declare you untouchable, anyway; you were usually more than okay with skirmishing with the Dime Lions and others that happened to be in your way.

You had never expected him to help you handle things that you could do alone.

It had been one of your wealthier friends, who helped get you out of the Menagerie. She had dated Zachariah Alix, a man with power and influence. She had usually dealt with his off-putting advances and abuse, but even you, who couldn’t see her often, could tell she wasn’t happy.

“Break up with him, then.” Your voice echoed in her private chambers as she sighed, multiple emotions running through her expression.

“Y/N, I just, I can’t. We’re already supposed to be married soon. Criminals in the Barrel are lucky in the way that you’re allowed to love who you please,” and damn your head for immediately thinking Kaz, “but merchers, well, it’s not that simple.”

“You callin’ me a criminal?”

“Yes,” she muttered, and you laughed, “but that’s not the point.”

“Are your parents forcing you to marry him?”

“Not exactly, but there’s going to be a lot more pressure if I break up with him.”

“Alright, well...from the list of merchers we’ve stolen from-'' she shot you a look, “sorry, sorry. It’s true though. I’m sure there’s someone on the list that’s for you.”

“I’ve got someone in mind already.”

“Well, that makes things easier, doesn’t it? Break up with him and get with the other guy. No parental pressure. Why do you need my advice, then? I get caught here and I’m as good as dead.”

“Okay, okay! It’s not parental pressure,” she lowered her voice, guilt painted across her face. “He’s going to stalk me if we break up. He might kill me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright,” you mulled it over. “That’s different. What can I do for you, then?”

“Can you be there when we break up? Moral support? And perhaps, well...if it wouldn’t trouble you, maybe do a little something to get him to leave me alone.”

“Like beat him up. It won’t trouble me,” you had answered. “Sure, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” she sighed in relief. “You’re the best, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing.”

…

“I don’t think we should continue on like this.”

There was a tension-filled silence, before Alix spoke again. “Why not, sweetheart?” He advanced towards her, and you had to prevent yourself from physically cringing. You were mostly moral support, and there to defend your friend if she got into deep shit, but, well...hopefully it wouldn’t come to revealing yourself.

“You- get off of me,” she pushed him away harshly. “You don’t get to talk me into forgiving you again. You are a child. You hit me and scream and throw tantrums. I want to be with someone who loves me, not someone who treats me like his mother. So that’s it. Get out of my house. We’re breaking up.”

There was another silence, before he spoke up again. “You little bitch,” he snarled, and grabbed at her dress, “you think you can just break up with me? No one’s ever going to be there for you. I’ll kill you and blame it on some Barrel thug. Check yourself, you’d be nobody without me.”

His hand closed in on her neck, and she looked to you, panicked. You put a finger to your lips before you snuck behind him, flicking off the safety and putting the pistol to his head.

He froze.

“Drop her.”

He did, and she slid down against the wall, tears streaming down her face. You had never intended to let it get that far, and it hurt your heart- but you had to deal with him first.

You knocked the gun into his head and used your elbow to knock him to the ground, putting a foot on his chest.

He looked up at you, terrified. What a coward.

“Too bad your daddy never taught you how to use guns,” you taunted, and grinned. “You leave her alone. She’s broken up with you. Get out of her house.”

“You’re Brekker’s whore, aren’t you?”

Your grin grows incredulous. You apply pressure to his chest steadily, and he wheezes, but he still continues.

“Yeah, look at you.You’re all upset, aren’t you, girl? Bet you’re sold out to half of the Barrel by him. Brekker likes his Kruge.” His eyes scan from underneath you. “Can’t say I’d blame him if he wanted to keep you as his personal pet, though.”

You scoff. “Careful what you say, I’m the one with a gun,” you remark, and you click a bullet into place for show, before taking your foot off. “Get out. If you touch her again, it’ll be more than me you’ll deal with.”

He scrambles upwards and disappears, and you hear the front door open and shut. You sigh.

“I’m sorry, I never intended for him to get that far. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” your friend sighs, hands lightly touching the bruises on her neck. “I think I’ll be okay. Thank you. What about you? You’re not-”

“I’m not with Kaz.” You help her up, and she smothers out her dress. “If Alix ever bothers you again, let me know.”

“Of course. I doubt he will. Thank you again, Y/N.”

…

He never did bother her again, but you- you were a different story. Every day, now, Kaz would offer you a note with some vague taunt on it.

“I’ll kill you.”

“Brekker’s slut! Slept your way to the top!”

“Let’s fight without a gun next time. I’ll have you pinned underneath me.”

“I’ll sedate and have my way with you. You still know some things from the Menagerie, don’t you?”

You had brushed off most of the taunts and threats, but they might’ve been starting to impact you, just a bit. You had assumed that Kaz had never read the threats. Each time, he would hand you the note with no expression.

Today’s note was a bit different.

“Y/N. Another note came in for you today.” He set the note on the table.

“Huh? Oh, thanks.”

You picked it up and unfolded the note, shielding the back of the paper with one hand. Kaz was clever, one of the many things you liked about him. You were sure that he’d try and read the back of the note if he could.

“Let’s meet on your territory. Crow Club at eight, in the alleyway.”

“Got yourself a boy, Y/N? These notes have started coming in every day,” Jesper whistled next to you, eyes scanning over the note. You look up, and Kaz is gone, watching from more of a distance. They’ve got it completely wrong.

You glance back down, and fail to notice how Kaz’s fingers tighten on his cane. Your laugh is dry, and you shake your head. “Nothing of the sort.”

Jesper ignores your denial. “Well, whoever he is, he seems awfully persistent. He wants to meet at the Crow Club, in the alleyway? Kinda sweet he wants to meet on your land, but why won’t he come in? He afraid of us, or somethin’?”

“Something like that,” you affirm.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to meet in here, either,” Inej says.

“Especially not with him here,” Jesper adds.

Your eyes meet Kaz’s across the room, and you both stare for a moment before he turns and looks away.

“Maybe.” Your answers are ambiguous, and you’re sure both Inej and Jesper want to know more, but you need to prepare for tonight.

“Sorry, guys. Excuse me.”

…

You have three throwable knives strapped into your boots, a small handgun holstered in your coat, and a syringe full of clozapine tucked up your sleeve. You’re prepared to take Alix down easily. You don’t exactly intend to shoot him, if only to make sure that the Crows don’t have a bigger target on their back from getting involved with the wealthy, but- well, you can’t deny it’s good to be ready in dire circumstances.

It’s 7:58 by the time you’re heading out to the back of the alley. You’re hiding behind the wall, just about to step over, but there’s already voices conversing there.

Did he bring backup? You grimace. You hadn’t considered that he might not fight fairly.

“Did she send her boyfriend after me ‘cause she was too much of a pussy to show?”

“I’d be careful what you say about Y/N.”

That’s Alix, and Kaz.

You’re not sure what you’re supposed to feel. He never did these kinds of things for you, never declared you his, but- you could handle this yourself. You didn’t need his protection, and you didn’t need him going out to deal with things because of one creepy ex.

Or, your thoughts betray you, you’re worried for him, because this could be a trap.

He glances over at the wall, where he seems to know you’re standing. It’s a warning glance, one to be quiet and let him deal with it.

“Aw, Brekker, you sweet on her? And here I thought it was a one-sided thing. Too bad I’m gonna ruin that pretty face of yours.”

Alix comes swinging. Kaz doesn’t say anything in reply, and instead jabs his cane forward, right into his stomach. He stumbles backward, and Kaz is still poised, waiting.

“I thought you were going to be more of a challenge than this. Even a fool knows not to attack first.”

“I’m no fool, Brekker. Don’t make any more sudden moves, or you’ll be shot. Do you know how easy it is to hire hitmen?”

There’s a faint look of surprise in Kaz’s expression before it smooths back into calm. “Well, to be honest,” he smiles pleasantly, “I thought merchers were above such methods.”

He’s glancing at you again, before his eyes move over two guard towers.

He’s pointing out to you where they are. Shit, what do you do? You’re no Inej, who can scale the walls and take them down silently. You’re no Jesper, who can shoot them with precision. You’re not going to be able to take out both snipers quickly enough. If you kill Alix and Kaz doesn’t dive behind the wall in time, he’ll get shot.

You let out a silent sigh. If only you could get both Kaz and Alix behind the wall, then you can get rid of the problem at its source, and then fuck the hitmen. They’re not going to kill Kaz if they can’t get paid.

“The rich are never above any methods. The only thing the rich care about is eradicating the criminals that roam the streets. I thought I was gonna get Y/N, and I could take her back to Tante Heleen,” he grinned, “But you’ll be worth a lot more. Wonder who’ll lay claim to you first.”

Kaz doesn’t say anything, just puts his hands behind his back, as if he’s waiting to be cuffed. But he gives quick signals to you, right before Alix steps around to secure the bonds- a quick countdown. He’s expecting you to shoot.

“No plans up your sleeves this time, Dirtyhands?”

You suddenly fire at Alix’s shoulder, a scream tearing through his throat as the cuffs drop to the ground. Kaz dives towards the wall, grabbing his cane along the way and breathing hard next to you.

Somehow, your aim remains true, and when you peek over the corner, you see Alix desperately trying to grasp at his wound. A grim sort of satisfaction greets your expression.

“Should’ve shot him in the head,” Kaz looks on with you.

“I’m trying not to paint a bigger target on our backs,” you explain, before you remember you’re supposed to be mad at him. Damn him for taking the fall for you. Did he know it was going to be a trap?

“Why the hell would you confront him alone? I had it handled, Kaz.”

“Not now..” His stare is directed at the shadows. And before you can get another word out, both of you are headed to his office.

The brisk walk is silent, and the tension could be cut through with a knife. At last, you reach his office, and he shuts the door, and sits down at his desk. You stand in front of him.

“Care to explain why you decided to confront Alix by yourself?” “I read the notes. I knew it was a trap.”

This doesn’t make you feel any better. “So you read the notes, where he called me a whore, a slut, your personal toy, and you don’t decide to tell me? You let it continuously happen, and then when the note comes today, you decide to go and white-knight for me because protecting me is a better idea than consulting me, huh?” you scoff. “That’s bullshit. You know I can handle myself. There’s a reason you chose me to be a part of the Crows, is there not? Or is what Alix said true? Did I sell myself to get to the top? Become your bitch?”

“I knew you could handle yourself just fine,” Kaz says calmly. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, because you didn’t consider the fact it was a trap. You could’ve died.”

“I would’ve been fine alone. Just because you’re the one who accounts for everything doesn’t mean I don’t use my head.” You know you’re being unfair, he’s right about the fact that you thought the fight was legitimate, but you could’ve saved yourself all the same.

“I’m not saying you don’t use your head, I’m saying that the probability of you dying if you went alone were much higher. I wanted to help you, save your ass back there,” he refutes.

“I would’ve died. So what? Deaths happen all the time in the Barrel! I die, and what?”

He doesn’t say anything.

You give a sardonic laugh. “I’m just an investment to you. I do what you want, with no question or hesitation, because I put my faith in you. My death just means the loss of a good soldier. I’m replaceable, though. My opinions are invaluable, so you don’t talk to me before you do shit. I’m always going to be underneath you, just a pawn.”

“You’re assuming things.”

“Like what, then?”

“Have you considered the fact that I was there because I wanted to help you? Because you’re a part of my Crows, and I don’t take anyone threatening us too kindly?”

His admission has you pausing, but he continues. “You die, and what? Forget what I may feel. What about Inej and Jesper? What about Nina, Wylan? I don’t want you to be underneath me. I see you as an equal.”

“I-”

“That’s why I was there. Because I-” love you, he nearly says, but he stops himself. “I protect the people I love.”

“And I’m someone you love,” you state quietly.

“Yes.”

You’re not sure how much you must have pissed him off to make him an honest man, but you can’t help smiling a little. “Saints, Kaz, at least ask a girl to be yours before you tell her you love her.”

“Fine. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?” You grin.

“Stop dodging the question,” he bites out.

“Yeah, I will,” you sigh. “But don’t get yourself killed, and especially not over me, please.”

“Well, darling, I think it’s fair of me to ask the same thing for you- don’t be reckless. People die far too easily in the Barrel,” he responds.

There’s another small silence, before you speak up again.

“Kaz. Thank you.”

He’s slightly surprised at the genuine warmth in your eyes, quickly replacing the anger that was in them before. He shrugs a little.

“It’s what lovers do, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “Lovers.”

Lovers, indeed.

#shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #six of crows x reader #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #soc kaz #soc x reader #kaz x reader #kaz brekker #thank you anon #might edit later #request

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radiosandrecordings · 3 years

Text

I found the start of a script I was working on in.. apparently June last year. It was supposed to be for a podfic because I wanted to do my own travelling-to-the-safehouse fic but apparently this is as far as I got. I think it’s pretty good though so may as well post it. Left in all the ah... More creative notes I was apparently giving myself for direction. [Tape clicks on]

[Sound of two sets of footsteps on stone, reverberating around a confined tunnel. Possibly water drip?]

JON [Firm, but soft. Like a memory foam mattress.] Martin? Are you still with me?

MARTIN [As if distracted, snapping back to himself] … What? Oh, yes, yes, still… Still here. Sorry it’s just- [He falters, struggling for the words] Hard. With- With everything. It’s all a bit… [A pause. He’s making vague hand gestures with one hand.] A bit much.

JON [Flatly] Oh. [Realising] Oh!- Do you- Do you want me to let go of your-

[Walking stops around here]

MARTIN (OVERLAPPING) [Firmly, almost panicked] No! Uh- No. No. This is… This is good.

JON [Trying not to sound pleased. Failing] Oh! Uh- Good. Good.

[Several beats of silence as the walking starts up again]

MARTIN … It’s grounding, really. Everything else is… A lot. Even breathing feels weird. I’m too… Hyper-aware. Of my own lungs. Not sure I breathed in there, not properly anyway. You just kind of dissolve into the background. Even yourself is too much company. Your whole body just kind of feels like a limb you’ve been sitting on too long, all the blood flowed out of it. So it’s… Nice. To have you. As a- As a focus point.

JON [Muttered] Something to be said about anchors, and all that.

MARTIN What was that?

JON Nothing, just a… Bit of a personal joke.

JON (CONT’D) Anyway. I think there’s light ahead, hopefully this should be the end of the tunnel. No idea where it’ll spit us out though.

MARTIN Guess we’ll see.

[Beat]

Just… Don’t let go?

JON [Unbearly fond. Get it together, gayboy] ‘Course not.

[Tape clicks off]

[Tape clicks on]

[They’re outside. There are outside noises. You know what those sound like, don’t you? I know you’ve been at home for 3 months but please. Please try and remember. Is there wind outside? Maybe a pigeon? It’s south bank there has to be pigeons. You remember pigeons, right? Also, river noises. Boat.]

MARTIN Are we at-

JON (OVERLAPPING) Southbank. Yes.

MARTIN Southbank? But the river, we’d have to have-

JON (OVERLAPPING) Yes, I’m… Not quite sure the same physics applies, when it comes to those tunnels. They’ve spent more time being moved around by a Leitner than not. I think they end where they want to end. Bloody miracle we’re not halfway to Twickenham. Or still in London at all for that matter.

MARTIN ...Right.

[He absolutely does not get it]

MARTIN (CONT’D) [He lets out a breath] Can we just- Can we just sit? For a minute?

JON [Quiet] Of course, of course…

[Movement as they make their way to a bench and sit]

[A seagull squawks overhead]

MARTIN The sunrise is nice…

JON [Clearly not looking at the sunrise] Yeah, it is…

MARTIN Do you have any idea what time it is?

JON I’d say… Just coming up on seven.

MARTIN What, Beholding goes to the trouble of telling you that and it can’t even pin it to the minute?

JON Martin, not to sound like the most stereotypical Englishman in the world, but we’re on South Bank. I just looked over at Big Ben.

MARTIN Oh- Er- Right.

[A sigh. He relaxes from all the wound up tension]

… God it really is just there isn’t it. Like, it’s one of those things that, if you didn’t grow up here, you don’t really get that it’s… Real, y’know? It’s like, you can see it every day and never quite get past the notion that it’s something that only exists as… Cheap, shitty fridge magnets and… And novelty t-shirts.

… Does that make sense? No, no sorry I’m rambling-

JON (CUTTING HIM OFF) [Quick, reassuring] No, no I get what you mean.

[A pause. He’s searching for something to fill the empty air, desperate not to leave a silence between them. It’s only tangentially on topic, but it will do]

… I grew up in Bournemouth. Did I ever tell you that?

MARTIN [Voice slightly shaky, but solidifying] Not in as many words, no. I think you mentioned it, on a… Tape. At some point. Not directly.

[He hesitates]

… Do you want to tell me about it?

JON [Hesitant. He may not have been Lonely, but he’s spent a fair amount of time trying to diminish himself] Only if you want me to.

MARTIN But do you want to tell me about it?

JON [Meekly] … Probably not the best story for now, actually. Not terribly interesting. And when it is, it’s just a bit… Miserable, really. Childhood orphaning never really leads upwards in the ways Dickens would have you believe.

MARTIN ...Some other time then?

JON [Stumbles slightly, as if shocked by the knowledge that there will be times that aren’t this. NOW YOU’VE THROWN HIM OFF HIS RHYTHM!] Y-yes. Some other time.

[Pause. 5 Seconds? Ambience. Sound of voices around has started to filter in.]

JON [Slow] I was just… I was thinking. About what- What Peter Lukas said, back in… [With vehemence] There. And how it was… Partially true, in a way. We may not know each that well but… I’d like to change that. If- If you do.

MARTIN [Soft] I would like that.

[Content hum]

… Tell me something non-miserable, then.

JON What?

MARTIN About yourself. Something that isn’t, I dunno, doom and gloom. What about, mmm, favourite colour?

JON [Amused, mock scolding] Are you five?

MARTIN Humour me!

JON Fine, fine… Actually, no.

MARTIN No?

JON No, you tell me what you think it is.

MARTIN [Under his breath] I tell you what I think…

[Contemplative] Okay. Okay. What is… What is Jonathan Sims’ favourite colour… You used to wear a lot of green around the office, dark jumpers and tweed jackets and stuff… But I’m half convinced you just thought it was a ‘professional’ colour, to match your fancy new job. I think it’s… I think it’s purple.

JON [Surprised] Purple? Why

MARTIN When… When you were in the hospital… Georgie stuck some photos up on the wall next to your bed. Old ones, polaroids, but in a kind of artsy way since they clearly weren’t from anywhere before the 2000′s. They were you in uni, and you had this ridiculous purple streak in your hair. So… Purple.

JON [Quietly mouthing the words along, not quite processing] Had a purple streak in Uni…

[Startled, just processed fully the implications] Wait, you met Georgie?

MARTIN Not in the hospital, a bit later in the Institute yeah, but… That’s another story for later. No, we never met in the hospital, I never quite felt…

[Grimace] Up to company, when I was there.

JON Right, of course. I remember that, though. Some time in my second year; I got a bit tired of people assuming I was a post-grad student and thought I’d try and dye my grey streaks purple. It fit in with the sort of… Aesthetic, I was cultivating at the time.

MARTIN [Absentmindedly, almost as if he doesn’t realise he’s saying it] I always liked your grey streaks.

JON [Shocked Pikachu but he’s got Dreamworks single raised eyebrow syndrome] Oh?

MARTIN [Oh shit, oh fuck, did I say that out loud] It’s just… Y’know. Nice. Not something you should want to hide.

[Quickly changing the subject] … You didn’t answer though. Am I right or wrong?

JON [Slow, amused. In a visual medium he’d be spreading his hands out] You got me.

MARTIN [Inordinately pleased] Really? Huh. Okay. Guess mine. And no Knowing!

JON Oh, gosh, uhm… Yellow?

MARTIN [Hah!] Green!

JON [Audibly :D because Martin laughed] Green? Why?

MARTIN [Hummed] Mm, I dunno. Just something about it.

[Volume of crowd has increased considerably now]

MARTIN [Slightly more nervous. The slight break in conversation gave him time to notice the people beginning to crowd around]

I apparently didn’t get to include it in the script, but it was going to be a reveal later that actually, Jon doesn’t have a favourite colour. He just agreed because he wanted to make Martin happy.

#My Post #My Writing #The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin

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yinses · 3 years

Text

B R A N D E D

| he would make sure that everyone knew who you belonged to |

tattoo artist! sukuna ryomen

rating: t

a/n: this is going to be a three part series. it got too long because i couldn’t shut up. thank you to @teoran for beta reading !!

you should have never informed yuuji that you were thinking about getting a tattoo, because of course his first response would be hey, sukuna owns a shop. why don’t you stop there. as if you didn’t already known that. your other friend, unfortunately had not known how to be subtle about it.

its when you go to hand off your card that they gasp audibly, drawing the attention of both yourself and the woman behind the counter.

“you’re not going to ask for a discount? i mean you know the owner, right?”

she jumps back quick enough to dodge the errant elbow you throw her way.

you knew you would regret telling her.

the woman is undeterred as she take your card, looking bored with the news. “so you know sukuna, huh?” the way she said it implied that it wasn’t the first time it had been made known to her.

you had known the man long enough to know where her thoughts were going with that assumption. sukuna wasn’t only popular for his art. a shudder rolled through your body at the idea of being categorized as one of his flings.

it wasn’t as though you were intentionally shaming the women. but it was sukuna. the same guy who locked you and his younger brother out on the patio whenever he was meant to keep an eye on you. and then blamed you for hiding from him when the responsible adults got home.

in hindsight, maybe you should have chosen another location. but now your card has been charged.

you scribbled your signature on the receipt, “uh yeah, awhile now. im not requesting him or anything.”

“his appointment book is full anyway. he doesn’t take walk ins.” its not said snidely, just matter of fact. as if she was seasoned with dealing with these kind of customers.

the man of topic strides in then, carrying a few bags of take-out that he drops carelessly onto the counter. he doesn’t m look unlike any other day, a loose white sleeveless shirt with a low hanging v-neck that just invited attention to his skin. the swirls of black ink made permanent by his hand only. though that was the advantage of this field and owning your own business on top of it.

sukuna was prepared to ignore the clientele planted at front desk, until he did a double take. those vermilion eyes took you in, morphing from speculation, to shock, a pinch of awe, then back to postulation.

“what are you doing here?”

a small frown mars you face. you didn’t actually consider that perhaps sukuna wouldn’t want you here. it was one thing to know the guy, but whether you wanted to accept it or not, you weren’t just another customer. so you unsurely respond with, “getting a tattoo?”

the snort he gives isn't one of annoyance. in fact its almost comforting to see the minuscule curl of his lips until they start to part, “yeah, missing something aren’t you?”

you realize with a frown that he’s referring to his brother.

“i have other friends.”

that slow smile wides as he gives your friend a brief look of appreciation. suddenly all those years of witnessing him cart his flings around rise to the forefront of your mind. really nothing rarely changed. “ i can see that.”

his gaze cuts back to you, “what are you getting? your boyfriends name?”

you cant tell if he’s teasing, fishing or a combination of them both.

he turns to lean over the counter, arms flexing at the action and pinches the fresh design still hot from the printer. you resist the urge to shuffle in place as he inspects the image with more interest than there were lines. it was hardly all that complex, just as you intended.

sukuna finally voices his opinion, to no surprise of your own. “yeah? kind of small isn’t it?”

“its my first sukuna,” you drawl.

you realize too late that the wording isnt best around him.

“no kidding.”

he tugs a styrofoam box free from the plastic bag before gesturing to you with a tilt of his head.

“alright, lets knock it out.”

you look to the woman expecting her to complain about his pending appointments but she only returns it with a pointed look. when it came down to it, what the boss wanted goes.

right then.

turning, you address your friend who seemed more invested in watching sukuna’s departure. “are you coming?”

her gaze snaps to you and she doesn’t even bother to pretend. she shrugs, “you may not be squeamish about needles but i am.” her hand waves vaguely towards the lounge area near the coffee station and stack of assorted snacks. “i’ll come running if you scream though,” she teases as you turn down the hall.

sukuna’s voice carries from the right in guidance where you find him setting his food off to the side. the room is neat. though you don’t know what you were expecting given the health expectations lining his work. then again, you’d spent the better part of the decade watching him cart week old pizza boxes out of his room so it was hardly a baseless assumption.

aside from the desk of tools and variety of inks the only other defining feature was the wall at the back. there was no rhyme or direction to the madness. the once white wall was littered with varying penmanships and messages. almost like an autograph book. some derogatory, others genuinely thankful for his work - you think you see a few numbers too.

the cushion of the seat protests under his weight as he rolls to the center of the room. he has the stencil of your chosen art held up in expectation.

“where is this pretty little thing going?”

“oh my rib- here on the right.” you think nothing of bringing up the hem of your shirt to expose the skin just under the curve of your breast.

he almost looks impressed, though there is some doubt. he wheels closer and gives no warning as his hand palpates the area. “over the bone? that’s daring for your first tattoo, princess.”

the name was nothing new, an accompaniment to yuuji’s ‘brat’.

part of you actually grateful that its sukuna. the entire shop had good reviews but it was best known for his talent. besides, the charge was already sitting on your card.

“i can handle it.”

he’s still squinting at your side, fingers tickling at your skin.

“yeah?” he answers absently. nimble digits you didn't think had any taste for delicacy carefully peel the plastic from the stencil. he doesn’t second guess himself in the slightest before pressing it to your skin.

when he pulls away, the chair follows him as he collects a hand mirror from his desk to reflect the design back to you.

“double sure?” he’s still rallying your resolve, but there is a hint of warning to his voice as professionalism seeps in.

with a firm nod you seal the deal,” yeah.”

“aright, pin up your shirt out of the way. tuck it into your bra if you want.”

you were expecting this already, given the location you’d decided on. with sukuna that action comes effortlessly without thought. it was no different than the times he’d seen you in your bathing suit, your brain reasoned. at least you still had your pants this time.

sukuna rests back into a lean against his small desk. absently you note that his eyes haven't left you once since you’d entered the room.

“eager little thing aren't you?”

but its sukuna.

you shrug.“ i guess. kind of been saving up for this one.”

the noise he makes is non-committal as he nods to the angled chair.

without your shirt there was no barrier between yourself and the leather. you expected the cold chill but the lack of stickiness kind of surprised you. once again you were reminded of the indisputable list of reviews at your fingertips.

sukuna goes about collecting the materials to disinfect your skin, angling the bottle and cotton over the trash can to catch the excess drops. satisfied with the saturation, he slides back.

you try to absorb the brief shock you feel when he applies the alcohol to your skin. it was hardly a substitute for actual bracing to come but it was good practice. when you look up, you catch his gaze again.

he’d been more observant in these last few minutes than you could ever recall sukuna caring before. maybe it was the job. though the thought of him excelling at customer service has you fighting a snort.

“cold,” you supply and he gives another grunt.

he chucks the cotton ball into the trash with all the efficiency of a man who has made a sport out of it and probably keeps score.

deciding on a solid color eliminated the need for him to break away to change shades, eliminating any surplus time keeping you in this chair.

a gloved hand braces your side, pinching the skin, while the other holding the gun rests against your sternum. when the motor starts you take a careful breath in. sukuna’s eyes raise at the sound.

“not nervous?”

you blink, expecting him to just get to it.

“uh, not really? i’ve never really been afraid of needles.”

he pauses. just when you part your lips to ask what wrong the buzzing starts.

its impossible not to tense at the first bite of the needle. but you fight the urge to jerk. it stings. the vibration of the motor is uncomfortable against your ribcage but it's not unbearable. you certainly wouldn't cry.

sukuna seems to notice it as well.

“not going to lie thought you’d be more of a cry baby? weren't you the one sobbing after you stubbed your toe.”

you latch onto the idle chatter even if it's a jibe.

“i was eleven and i sprained that toe.”

he gives you a quick glance. “sure, princess. completely called for the waterworks.”

you snort. “yeah well it made me stronger. im barely affected today.”

your words are followed by a shift of his hand as it turns to follow a line, the movement pressing firmly against the underside of your breast. you're too attentive to the needle pinching at your skin to take notice.

but sukuna does, eyes narrowing without your awareness.

“yeah, i can see that.”

rather than closing your eyes to block out the pain, you find a more comforting distraction in tracing the lines of his tattoos with your gaze. you can hardly make out the first tattoo he’d gotten at the age of seventeen after forging his parents signature.

the abstract design had now branched out, interlocking with new styles to map out the formation of a sleeve. it was almost like his own branded language. a dialect of bold shapes and bands. you’d never thought to actually ask what his tattoos meant. nor did you expect an honest answer.

sukuna works rather quickly and efficiently while your mind wandered. even if he hadn’t squeezed you in during his lunch break this felt like the usual pace for him. he looked so in the zone as he followed the pre-made lines to perfection.

you weren’t the model customer, still having your brief moments of weakness but he rolled with the interruptions better than you expected. sukuna was brash growing up and didn’t tolerate nonsensical people. you’d had your fair share of opportunities to be chewed out by him.

and earned a reasonable amount of them, though your returning attitude said otherwise.

but this sukuna was softer, if you could put it like that. he knew the right time to give you breaks but didn’t let your nerves settle too much. when he wasn’t adding a layer to permanency to your skin, an errant finger would smooth over the swelling flesh.

more than once you heard him throw out a quiet good girl. that you knew was meant to be encouraging but it came with additional implications that tickled your skin.

he tells you that you should be grateful that the artwork doesn’t need any shading. that it was never a good fit for beginners.

your chest expands the furthest it had in the last half hour when he finally rolls back.

“alright, princess, go ahead and take a look.”

you take the offered mirror again and angle it to take in the fresh piece. the reflection you get back is- amazing. you’d been so concentrated?? on micromanaging the pain that you failed to take in the little details he’d added along with the original design.

as if reading your thoughts, he snorts. “it's not my art if i don't leave my mark. you can tell me it looks good you know.”

if you didn't know any better, you’d say he was authentic in his attempt to bait your approval.

and you had no reason not to provide.

your legs are a little shaky but you manage to balance yourself before brining the eldest itadori into a hug. sukuna goes stiff for a moment before returning the embrace and doesn’t resist when you press your face into his shoulder. there’s an awkward pat before they release each other from the hold.

sukuna .. before he’s shrugging you off.

“god, what a noob. at least let me cover it up. you’re going to irritate the skin.”

when he turns back to rummage through his desk you note the hint of a flush creeping up his nape. you know better than to mention it, instead just smiling at his back.

there is a scowl on his face as he applies the cotton square to your skin and tapes it in place.

“please do not itch this shit. i don’t care if you feel like your skin is going to fall off.”

he presses a small tube of antibiotic into your hand.

“and apply this daily. you don't need it drying out. “

you’re grateful for the little slip of printed instructions that follow. you were able to remember the sensible directions but it couldn't hurt to have additional guidance when you started to question the progress.

“oh and no sex.”

that was definitely not on the list.

sukuna raises a brow in all seriousness. “what? if you get your blood pumping too much.”

you call him on his bullshit,” this small? hardly. “

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “alright, try it yourself if you want. i charge for touch ups though.”

the two of you size each other up. just like old times.

with a sigh you relent, “fine, no sex.”

“good, see me in two weeks.”

his words stop you short. it wasn’t as if you needed anything added and he wasn’t a physician checking on your progress. if anything, you would only revisit your artist if there was a problem.

“what for?”

the dawning grin would follow you for the next fourteen days.

“to make sure you didn’t have sex.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna blessings #sukuna ryomen

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adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

All Day Affair - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (18+)

JATP Masterlist - Valentine’s Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Smut, swearing, light embarrassment (minors DNI)

Words: 2757

Summary: A rough night before leads to a slow morning after, causing you and Charlie to be late to Valentine’s brunch plans. All is forgiven and all is forgotten when he makes it up to you in the best way he can.

A/n: This weekend has not at all gone the way I’d thought/hoped it would and so I apologize for the slow churning of fics lately but I promise I am working on some much requested fics. On a lighter note, here is my contribution to the Valentine’s Day

My eyes groggily flutter open when I hear my phone rapidly buzzing on the bedside table. Charlie’s arm is draped over my exposed midriff, no doubt a position of his own doing. As I go to move his arm off my bare skin, he holds onto me tighter groaning an incoherent string of words. I attempt to grab the maniacally buzzing device with my eyes still closed. I’m incapacitated via Charlie’s hold on my waist, and thus, all I feel under my flattened hand against the cool surface are the discarded condom wrappers from last night.

“Charlie,” I scold, still not fully awake. He knowingly loosens his grip, allowing me to sit up and it isn’t until I’m upright and Charlie’s arm drops into my lap that I realize I’m completely naked under his t-shirt. My phone has not stopped vibrating like crazy much to my dismay. Haphazardly grabbing it off the nightstand, I wait for my eyes to adjust before I read the time.

11:26.

“SHIT. Charlie! Charlie, we’re late!” I try and shake him awake. He whines miserably,

“Mmmmm, what?”

“It’s 11:26, we’re late!”

The messages are from Owen and Savannah, both of whom we were supposed to be meeting for brunch at 11. While Charlie and I wanted Valentine’s Day plans alone, we also wanted to spend time with our friends whom we love dearly. Since the original plan was for the two of us to have the evening all to ourselves, we agreed on having brunch to start the day off well. Look how that turned out for us. I scramble out of bed, and I nearly hit the floor as my legs give out from under me. Luckily, Charlie was right behind me and was able to catch me in time.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just sore.”

“Yessss.” I fake slap his chest before we resume in the chaos, frantically throwing on decent outfits. I toss Charlie one of his band shirts turned muscle tees after hopping into a pair of jeans. Once dressed, I run to the bathroom and pass a brush through my hair in a frenzy before I begin brushing my teeth at lightning speed. Charlie appears beside me to brush his own teeth, and I’m practically sprinting out of the bathroom as he does.

“Don’t forget to fix your hair!” My legs nearly give out once more as I struggle to slip on my favorite pair of sneakers. Once I’m upright again, and stable, I grab both of our wallets and the keys to the house and car and shove them into my bag. Together we bolt out the door and clamber into Charlie’s orange Subaru.

In a nice contrast to all the rushing around we’ve done this morning, Charlie drives at a regular speed; thankfully, we make it to the restaurant in one piece. As soon as he puts the car in park the two of us run to the entrance to see our friends waiting at an outdoor table on the patio. Charlie and I finally made it, albeit a tad out of breath.

“Charlie, Y/n, nice of you to finally join us.”

“11:44 on the dot. Not your latest arrival, but an honorable mention,” Savannah jeers, waving me over to sit beside her.

“What happened this time?”

“Overslept. My usual alarm didn’t go off, I must’ve forgotten to turn it on last night.”

“Classic.” I’m distracted from Owen’s teasing when Savannah’s humorous smile drops. She’s looking at me with an emotion I can’t distinguish.

“You okay?” She simply nods and then pushes her chair back.

“I need to pee and you do too. Come on, Y/n.” And without allowing me to reply, she has me up out of the chair and briskly walking toward the bathroom. It isn’t until we’re outside the single stall that I noticed she grabbed my bag from the back of my chair. Once she’s locked us both in the room, she looks at me with wide eyes and a suppressed smile.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s this?” She answers my question with a question, before using her left index finger to poke the right side of my neck.

“Ow!” My face drops once I realize. Brushing past her, I move to stand in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting the assemblage of love bites all over my neck area. Savannah merely giggles at the realization before opening my bag.

“You don’t have a sponge, so we’re gonna have to use our fingers.” I turn around to look at her, not through the mirror and find a bottle of full-coverage concealer in her hands.

“How did that get in there?”

“I put it in there last week after you had to spend the whole day adjusting your shirt around your collar bones to hide more of these.” She gives a vague gesture to the marks on my neck and begins applying the makeup.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“And you are unbelievable. That was literally last week, and you’re already marked up again. Don’t you and Charlie ever just make love? Does it always have to be ‘ravage one another’s body’?”

“I mean, occasionally. I don’t know, sweet and tender isn’t really our thing.”

“Clearly.” Savannah steps back to survey her work, “Okay, you’re covered but be careful because I didn’t pack setting spray.”

“I am forever indebted to you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. It’s Owen that you should pray doesn’t notice.”

“God, you’re right.”

“If I were solely judging by his hair, I’d have guessed you guys went at it this morning and not last night.”

“Shit, he’s probably marked up, too.”

“Well, I didn’t bring him concealer, and you two are not the same shade soooo… sorry.” I shake my head dismissively as I hold the bathroom door open for her behind me.

“Better him than me.”

“How was it though? You told me you’d text me updates.”

“Yeah, and then I didn’t set an alarm. But no, it was… so good. I’m like, sore.”

“Okay, we’re entering TMI territory so let’s find something to talk about before we’re back within earshot.”

“What are your Valentine’s plans for the rest of the day?”

“I might get frozen yogurt and watch a movie, haven’t really decided. I would ask what you and Charlie are doing, but based on this morning, I think I can guess.”

Just as Savannah and I did, the two boys fall silent once we approach the table; when the four of us are settled, I take a quick glance over the menu, as if I’m unsure of what I want.

“Okay, in the spirit of St. Valentine, let’s talk love. Tell us about your first kiss, Y/n.” Savannah eyes me, already knowing the horrendous story. I deadpan,

“No.”

“Wait, I’m actually curious. I don’t think I know this story.” Charlie leans forward in his seat, placing his forearms on the table in front of him.

“See what you’ve done?” Savannah merely shrugs and takes a smug sip from her water glass. “No, I’m not doing this. Why don’t you tell us about your first kiss, Sav?”

“I asked you first.”

“Fine, be that way. Charlie, tell us about your first kiss.”

“Well, I don’t know I-”

“Come on, what’s ‘love-master’ Charlie’s origin story?” Owen teasingly pats Charlie on the back, and the four of us all fall under a shocked silence at the sound of Charlie hissing in pain. My lips part in surprise but quickly press shut in a moment’s realization.

“You okay?” Don’t do it, Owen.

“Yeah, I’m fine just-”

“Oh my god.” Upon patting Charlie’s back, the fabric of his shirt moved out of the way to reveal a conglomerate of scratches across the surface of his sun-kissed skin. Owen laughs out in disbelief before poking one of the scratches again, causing Charlie to smack his hand away.

“Holy shit, did you get mauled by a bear?” Owen then gasps in a realization that I’d pray he wouldn’t have, and he begins to laugh even harder. “That good, huh Y/n?” My face heats up a million degrees and I cover my face with one hand as a desperate defense mechanism.

“It’s not a big deal, Owen.” Thank god, Savannah’s come to the rescue. “They just got a head start on Valentine’s Day is all.”

“Okay, can we please change the subject?” I plead as I’ve already had enough of their laughter. Charlie gives me a look that is both apologetic and embarrassed and I let out an exaggerated sigh as a response.

The rest of our brunch date is still a good time minus the occasional interjectory joke about my and Charlie’s romantic all-day-affair yesterday. Our foursome disassembles, already planning the next group outing post-Valentine’s intimacy.

“That was absolutely humiliating,” I state, buckling my seatbelt in the passenger's side as Charlie begins pulling out of the parking spot.

“You want me to be gentler next time?” Charlie asks sincerely and extends his right hand over the center console to rub a comforting circle on top of my thigh over the fabric of my jeans. The gesture pulls the warmth in my heart and the butterflies in my stomach a little lower.

“...No,” I admit shyly. The confession elicits a small, cocky chuckle from Charlie. He then gives me an affirming squeeze before tracing the seam along my inner thigh in a way that is too sensual to mistake his intentions.

The entire car ride home, the feeling of Charlie’s fingertips ghosting up my leg makes my heart beat a little faster and ignites a subtle heat where I wish he’d trail his hand up to. I’m sure my desire is apparent to Charlie but he doesn’t say anything about it. When we get back to our home, I stick the key in the lock and open the front door but freeze as I feel Charlie pressing into my entire backside. He leans down to playfully bite part of my earlobe as his hands come to rest on my hips.

“You said you didn’t want me to be gentle?” All of my senses are clouded by dense arousal so all I can do is nod. He airily laughs, a warm breath dusting the surface of my skin and I shudder involuntarily. “Go inside.”

After closing the door behind us, Charlie shoves me up against it, his hand behind my head to prevent me from actually getting hurt. He kisses my lips forcefully but doesn’t linger, and instead trails down the column of my throat. The kisses are rough in between small bites of affection, surely leaving more marks that I’ll have to wake up early to cover tomorrow. Or just not go anywhere. After this, it’s looking like the latter.

“You want me to rough you up a little bit? Huh?”

“Yes.” The love bites Charlie’s leaving behind become harsher on my skin, as he trails further down my neck, across my collarbones. “Charlie, can we…?”

“Can we what? Tell me what you want.”

“Please-“

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.” And with that Charlie pulls me into the bedroom, stealing kisses in between steps. Charlie moves to sit me on the bed but as he grabs me by the hips, I maneuver to switch places and push him down onto the bed. He looks at me with a mix of surprise and excitement, taking the hand that pushed him between his own. I smile delicately when Charlie presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. That is the last trace of softness.

The two of us begin stripping out of our brunch clothes as fast as we can. It’s as if we’re running out of time. We’re both almost fully naked but before I can get my panties off Charlie’s lips are back on mine. His movements are swift, kiss after kiss is filled with an unrivaled lust that is glorious.

Crawling onto the bed, Charlie stays close behind, never allowing any loss of contact between us. I recover to a sitting position and Charlie wraps his arm under my stomach and presses a line of kisses across my shoulder blades.

“Can I take you like this?” He asks earnestly, running his hands over the vast expanse of my bare skin. I choke out a desperate plea and my breathing softens once I feel the absence of Charlie’s touch on my body. When I turn around I see him searching the room like a madman.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t find any more condoms. I think we used them all last night.”

“What? We only used three.”

“I don’t know! Maybe I dropped some?”

“Fuck it. Charlie if I’m not getting absolutely rawed in the next ten seconds I will walk out that door.” He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that and is back on the bed. Charlie grabs both sides of my face to bring me in for a long passionate kiss before taking his place behind me. His warm hands fall from my face to my waist, gripping the skin slightly.

Charlie sits back on his heels and moves my body back to hover over his. He runs a sensual path with his fingers down the sides of my body and slips one down through the growing wetness between my legs. Tracing the arousal over my quivering clit. The anticipation of the moment has heightened my sensitivity and as a result, I let out a whine. My whimpering continues when I feel him run the tip of his erection through the wetness. As I open my mouth to nag him for moving so slow, Charlie slams his entire length inside of me at once, causing me to cry out in pleasure. I can tell it feels incredible for him too by the way he’s gripping my hips. If he didn’t leave bruises yesterday, he definitely will today.

It doesn’t take long for him to figure out a tempo that’s comfortable for the both of us and my labored panting fills the room. Charlie lets out a groan followed by a laugh because we could both feel the physical reaction I had to the noise he had let out. Wrapping his right arm across my stomach, Charlie reaches the left up to grab my tits, and roughly bite another hickey on my shoulder. He uses his right arm to pull my body into his own torso, and shifting his hips he makes a few adjustments. Charlie shifts one more time and when he thrusts back into me I cry out so loud surely our neighbors will put in a noise complaint.

“There we go,” he grunts to himself, but our proximity allows me to hear. Repeatedly thrusting into that spot, my eyes flutter closed in pleasure. Charlie resumes leaving harsh, lingering kisses, and love bites down the side of my neck, moaning into them in ecstasy. As I feel my heat begin to pulse, Charlie knows I’m close and tries to grab my attention.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” I will my eyes open and turn to look. The pleasure of his movements is so overwhelming that in between moans and shallow breaths, I find myself leaning my head back to rest on his bare shoulder. “I want you to look at me as you come undone.”

“Okay.” I swallow hard from how dry my mouth is from panting so hard for so long. Each next thrust is measured and the sound of our labored breathing and pleasured moans fill the electrified air.

“Charlie.”

“I’m close. Where do you want-”

“Just stay inside.”

“You sure?” Before I can give a coherent response my orgasm tears through me like a wildfire. I’m doing my best not to scream and what comes out is a mix between a strangled cry and a deep, guttural groan. Adding to my ecstasy, Charlie reaches down to trace tiny circles over my clit and I feel tears of overstimulation prick the length of my lower lash line. While Charlie fucks me through my high, I feel his movements stutter and the familiar twitch before he relaxes his hold on my body. The two of us collapse back onto the bed in a symphony of gasps and bliss-fueled laughter.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” he says behind a smile.

“I love you. That was the first time I’ve forgone condoms…” I state to the ceiling in a moment’s realization, “How do I get this out of me?”

***

A/n: I really am so sorry about the slow churn of writing. I’ve gotten busy with classes and though I knew this was coming I’m still upset that I can’t spend more time writing. On top of that being in a block has been really rough but it’ll pass with time I hope :)

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Osborn’s 5✩ Inspiration: Black VS Black [黑色对峙] Date Translation (END 6: Heart-throb)

“Do you really think that I think there’s no helping you?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Osborn’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ �� *This 5✩ Inspiration has 6 Endings!! *Osborn’s tag will be #For Night, For Freedom *Requested by anon! You can check my on-going requests and more here!

✥ Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

The cat caused an incident! What should I do?

⊹ Check the fallen model ⊹

I didn’t think too much about it, instead, hurrying over to where the car model had fallen.

I picked it up and inspected the damages.

There was a long crack in the middle and several parts had broken off, scattering compartments all over the floor.

MC: Can this… still be saved…?

Just as I was thinking of how to break this bad news to Osborn, his low voice sounded from behind.

Osborn: What a big commotion.

Osborn: What? Did Mitt get into an accident?

I steeled myself and stopped covering the scene of the “car accident” that had occurred. I got up and handed him the car model that I held.

MC: The “culprit” knocked this car model down and fled.

Osborn frowned, reaching me in a couple of long strides.

He took the model and turned it around a couple of times, observing it with an indifferent look on his face.

MC: Is it too damaged to fix?

Osborn: I can just send it for repairs over the next few days. Let's go look for the cat first.

He calmly placed the broken car model back onto the shelf, taking a “let’s talk about this later” stance.

This model had been placed together with many other car models that looked new, pristine, and without a scratch. Not to mention, the glistening trophy that had been right next to it. A wild guess entered my mind.

MC: Do all the car models here hold some sort of commemorative meaning?

Osborn: Hm? Why do you ask?

MC: I mean, if they are some sort of special memento to you, then they should have been subjected to routine maintenance, right?

MC: If so, then you should also have the tools for it along with any part replacements, yes?

Thoughtfulness slipped into his eyes.

Osborn: You want to help me fix it?

MC: Yeah! That cat was just spooked real bad, and it wouldn’t do us any good if it got a bigger fright the next time and reacted even worse to it if we continued chasing after it.

MC: So, why don’t we leave the cat hunt for later and fix the car model back up first?

MC: Plus, I’m pretty dexterous with my hands. Wanna give me a chance to show you my prowess?

He raised an eyebrow, his pale green eyes glinting.

Osborn: Okay. Here's your time to shine.

Osborn stretched his arms over my head. For a while, all I could see was his broad chest. I felt my breath hitch.

Then, he suddenly lowered his head. His face was incredibly close to mine.

The scent of black cedar assaulted my nose. I blinked. My brain was lagging.

MC: Oh, okay.

Osborn: Take it.

My gaze slid to his hand. Turns out that he’d just been fetching the toolbox that had been in the cabinet above the display shelves.

Osborn: I'm waiting.

I took the toolbox from him and opened it.

I was greeted by a multitude of components in all shapes and sizes. Some of the tools in it were similar to the ones I used when making my designs, but there were also some that I’d never seen before.

I picked up a tool that looked like a cross between a pen and a knife, looking to Osborn for advice.

MC: What's this?

Osborn: An exacto knife. It’s used to cut off excess parts of the joints when required.

MC: Mmhm, okay. I've remembered it.

Osborn: This is a cutting plier, screw sanders, tweezers...

Osborn picked out a couple more tools from within the box and introduced them to me.

Osborn: Anything else you can't recognize?

MC: Not for now.

Osborn: Okay. Then let's remove the damaged compartments first.

MC: Okay.

First, we used a screwdriver to remove the damaged compartments. Then, we replaced them with brand-new spare parts.

This race car model was really different from those being sold out in the market. It was made with exquisite craftsmanship, and its internal makings were far more complicated than I'd initially thought.

When it was time to add colours to it, Osborn prepared the required paints and set them out in measured portions onto the palette with ease and finesse. He smoothly handed me a brush.

Osborn: Do you know how to touch up the paintwork?

I hesitated.

MC: I've painted outfit designs before for design needs, but I'm sure it's completely different from actually painting a model.

MC: I don't know if it works the same…

Osborn: See my demonstration first then.

He dipped his brush into the red paint, carefully painting it onto the model. It came out very uniform and smoothly layered.

I'd stared at him, watching him do it a couple more times. But, no matter how much I watched the same process, I couldn't quite grasp it. Even if I tried mimicking his actions, my paintwork always turned out patchy and uneven.

Osborn laughed, placing his hand over mine and directing the brush I held.

He directed my brush, guiding me on how I should be painting the compartment with a focused look on his face.

It was all serious and business, except… My focus was inevitably drawn towards his movements and breaths.

Osborn: Get it?

MC: Mmhm...

I tried my hardest to remember the way he did it and followed suit. The end result was much smoother than what I'd been accomplishing before.

After the finishing touches were in place, I raised the model and showed it to him.

MC: Like… this? This should be done now, right?

Osborn: Not bad. You've got standard.

My spirits soared at having received such direct praise from him.

MC: Since I'm such an apt learner, how about enlisting my help again the next time you make another model of a race car?

Osborn slightly raised a brow as he contemplated my paint-stained hands.

Osborn: I'll think about it.

MC: Does this even need to be considered?

MC: I'm pretty quick to pick up hands-on skills, not just fixing up models of racing cars! So I'm a fast learner no matter what it is!

MC: You can test me again if you don't believe me!

Just as I was boasting about my assets in an attempt to make myself appeal to him, Osborn's calloused fingers suddenly brushed against my cheek.

The rough texture of the pads of his fingers made my heart skip a beat.

MC: What's wrong?

Osborn: You got something on your face.

I doubtfully touched my face. Suddenly, I pulled my hand away to find my fingers stained with red paint.

Astonished, I look at Osborn's hands, only to find even more red paint on them…

MC: Don't tell me you drew something on it!!

Osborn: What gives?

MC: Hey! You're biting the hand that feeds!

Osborn: Whatever do you mean by that?

Osborn: I'm just adding some blush and colour to your face. Makes you prettier.

I was taken aback, nonetheless.

MC: Okay. Then, I'll add some colour to your cheeks for you!

Osborn: Whoa, hey! Easy!

MC: Nothing you say now is gonna stop me!

I swiftly picked up the brush and dipped it into the paint set out onto the palette, rushing straight for his face.

Osborn quickly reared back, but I subconsciously followed right after his retreat.

And this was how I toppled him down to the ground with him doing nothing to defend himself.

Osborn was astonished. He'd attempted to get back up, only for my other hand to immediately dart out to pin him down by the shoulder.

MC: No moving!

Surprise flashed through his eyes, as his usual impish smile crawled its way back up his face.

Osborn: Wow, what an aggressor.

MC: That's right. Now's my time to retaliate!

MC: No use trying to escape!

I circled the air with the brush, purposefully observing his face to make my mark.

MC: Hmm, what do you want me to draw on you?

Osborn seemingly accepted the fact that he was going to be an inevitable victim of mine since I already had him "pinned" down. He folded his arms behind his head, giving my question some serious thought.

Osborn: An air drawing?

MC: Dream on!

Osborn: Mercy, please. I beg you.

MC: It's too late to be begging me for mercy.

MC: Hmph. Just watch me improvise on the spot~

Just as I was rummaging through my brain for a glimmer of inspiration, a light bulb suddenly lit in my head.

I had an image now: Mitt as it was fleeing.

❖☆———————————★❖

I leaned down, supporting myself on Osborn's shoulder.

Following the curve of his jaw, I applied colour to his skin, drawing a colourful cat.

Osborn had his guard down, seemingly content to watch me work my "artistic talents" with him as the canvas.

The surroundings lapsed into silence.

I was drawing it on with such rapt concentration, yet I was still able to notice his long black lashes and hear his familiar steady breathing ever so clearly. I could somewhat feel the slight rise and fall of his chest.

I vaguely registered our close proximity to each other. My heart seemed unable to settle with the fact that we were so close to each other that our breaths intermingled, clamouring loudly within my chest.

I blinked twice, finishing off the last stroke before getting up and putting some distance between us.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn: Done?

I nodded.

Osborn: What do you think of your work of art?

Huh? Is he asking me to rate my own work?

I quickly gave him a once over, only to realize that I'd been distracted at the end, so it'd turned out a little funky. I nearly laughed at it right then and there.

MC: Ahem. I think it's not bad! You've got a big kitty on you now!

He waggled his brows, lazily raising his body halfway back up. His features were suddenly enlarged before my eyes once more as he leaned closer.

Osborn: Happy now?

MC: Mmhm… Pretty happy.

Osborn: Then let me tell you something that'll make you even happier.

He moved even closer, his words gently flowing with the air, wrapping themselves around my ears.

I shuddered as a scalding heat started creeping up my neck.

MC: ...What is it?

Osborn: The other kitty's right behind you.

Mitt: Meow~ Meow~

The last of his words were drowned out by the sudden meowing that sounded.

I snapped out of the trance of the moment, much to my embarrassment. Mitt had actually slinked behind me somehow without my knowing!

MC: Right, we should hurry and catch it before it gets up to no good again!

I quickly climbed off Osborn, flushing red as I fled.

A light chuckle sounded behind me in response.

❖☆———————————★❖

By the time we found Mitt, it was already sprawled out beside the TV cabinet with its paws stuck underneath, fiddling with something in the gap.

Recalling the layout of his living room, I quietly tip-toed and whispered my idea into Osborn’s ear.

MC: I’ll take left, you take right. We’ll pincer it.

Osborn: It’s already here, so there’s no need to go through so much trouble.

MC: Huh?

Osborn: Just wait and see.

Osborn took a couple of long strides forwards in the direction of the cat.

I followed after him, quietly approaching the black cat. However, my attention was suddenly caught by the photo frame that the cat had just been playing with.

Picking up the frame, I carefully observed it…

In the picture were Osborn and a couple of familiar-looking teammates. They’d all had an arm around each other’s shoulder, beaming as they held the same trophy.

Their faces all look much younger… Is this a photo from years ago?

The race car in the background had a red and white body with an orange rear spoiler, similar to the car model that Mitt had batted off its perch earlier.

MC: Don’t tell me… Was that car model made based on this race car?

I was lost in thought when a sudden meow broke my train of thought.

Osborn: Still wanna run?

❖☆———————————★❖

I raised my head to see Osborn with both arms raised, gently holding up the cat in question.

The bright and warm sunlight shone in through the window, carefully outlining his chiselled side-profile and the contours of his muscles.

Although Mitt had already been caught, it still glared daggers at Osborn. It was as if a cat and a human were engaged in a silent battle with each other.

After a while, Mitt seemed to register the fact that it’d lost, meowing pitifully in that soft cry once more.

❖☆———————————★❖

Osborn: Oh? You know how to beg for mercy now, don’t you?

Osborn carried Mitt to the little corner we’d set up for it. Mitt seemingly gave up on the game of chase, lowering its head to eat the cat food that we’d prepared for it since the very beginning.

Watching it eat its food so obediently, I couldn’t help but kneel down and stroke its round head.

Mitt cast a doubtful glance at me, but turned its head, indulging nuzzling itself into my palm.

MC: !

MC: I touched it! How cute…

Osborn: You’re that excited from just being able to touch it?

MC: Yeah. It looked so naughty that I thought I wouldn’t be able to touch it today.

Osborn: It’ll come running up to you for a lick or two so long as you have food.

MC: Then I MUST let it try the wet cat food! Maybe it’ll get closer to me!

I sped towards the sofa and picked up the packet of wet cat food, purposely waving it before its nose.

It couldn’t resist the offered temptation after all. Its soft fluffy paws batted at my wrist as it opened its mouth and cried its pleas.

MC: Okay, okay. Any more and you’ll end up a piggy.

I recalled something after putting away the remaining food. I picked up the photo frame that I’d set down earlier and handed it to Osborn.

MC: Oh, yeah. By the way, this was the photo frame that Mitt was batting with under the TV cabinet earlier. I don’t know where you normally display it.

He took the photo frame from me and glanced at it.

MC: And on that note, I realized that the car in the background looks very similar to the model we just pieced back together. Are they the same?

Osborn: Oh. The model was made according to this race car.

Suddenly, I recalled having seen the highlights of all his races before.

The year and month in which he’d won his first racing championship seemingly coincided with the time that this photo was taken.

My guess had tumbled out of my lips before I could stop it.

MC: Is this the car you drove when you won your first championship?

He quirked a brow.

Osborn: Why, you know me so well.

MC: Then… Is that car model something of a memento from that race?

Osborn: You can say that.

MC: I heard somewhere before that that car’s engine had to be changed out every two races. It shouldn’t be in use anymore, right?

Osborn: The engine exploded on me during that race, so it was only my companion once.

Osborn spoke lightly of it, but thinking of how exciting and terrifying it must have been back then, I couldn’t help but feel my heart sink a little.

MC: I’m glad the car model’s alright. Otherwise, it’d be such a pity for such a meaningful memento to get damaged like that.

Osborn: So I should thank you properly. Is that it?

MC: Huh? Thank me?

He chuckled lightly, his eyes sliding from the photo to my face. He had a slightly flippant look on his face.

Osborn: Weren’t you the one who made that car model more meaningful?

MC: ……

I was taken aback for a bit. I looked at him in surprise, only to find his gaze calm and gentle. There was a smile glimmering within his eyes.

Osborn: You were pretty clever when fixing the model. Why so stupefied now?

As his words sank in, I felt my heart flutter as I realized what he’d meant by having made it more “meaningful”. Something seemed to have filled my heart. It was a little flustering, yet also a little sweet.

I worried my lip and gathered my courage together before looking up to meet his eyes.

MC: Then, that makes me happier now…

MC: Although I didn’t get the chance to sit in on the race of your first championship and cheer you on…

MC: I was still able to piece the model back together and play a part in that precious moment of memory.

Inexplicable emotions surfaced in Osborn’s eyes, and in the next second, his big hand ruffled my hair with a vengeance.

Osborn: There’s really no helping you, is there?

I shyly ducked my head, but I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from rising.

At this moment, the sun had enveloped us both within its warmth.

The cat quietly ate by our feet, letting out a purr of satisfaction every once in a while.

Slowly but surely, unspeakable feelings started to bloom and spread within the confines of my heart.

I hope, from the deepest points of my heart, that time would always be eternally frozen in this beautiful moment.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 5 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 6 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Freedom⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Prologue)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #For Night For Freedom #黑色对峙 #Black VS Black

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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 12

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Word Count: 4.7K

"Come on (Y/n)" Mikasa jostled your shoulder, the sunlight barely seeping into Annie's room thanks to her thick curtains and the overcast outside. Your eyes cracked open and you grunted as Mikasa lifted her hand from your shoulder. You sat up, your hair sticking our in odd angles as you blinked sleepily at Mikasa.

"What time is it?" you mumbled as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Annie was buried under the covers still asleep.

"It's eight in the morning." Mikasa informed as you reluctantly climbed out of the warm bed. Mikasa waited patiently for you by the door as you grabbed your phone and shrugged your flannel back on. You noticed that Mikasa's eyes lingered on chest and neck and you flushed, hazy memories of the night prior returning to you slowly. You looked around for your jeans, vaguely recalling taking them off before going to sleep. You were certain that you and Annie hadn't done anything beyond some heavy petting and kissing. You found your pants and pulled them on quickly, buttoning them as you and Mikasa left the room and descended the stairs to the main floor where you had left your shoes and coat.

As the two of you walked out the side door you noticed that most of the cars were still in the drive way, Eren's car was running and you could make out both Eren and Armin in the car already. Mikasa paused a few feet away from the car and quirked a brow at you.

"So you and Annie?" she mused, you groaned and rubbed the side of your face, your head pounding.

"No we just kissed." you clarified, it had been a good experience but you knew that you wouldn't want to have a relationship with Annie. At least at this time.

"I didn't know you were into girls." Mikasa said softly. You shrugged and smiled at her.

"Neither did I, well I guess I thought I'd never act on those feelings." you chuckled as you licked your lips and clutched your throat thoughtfully.

"I see." Mikasa left it at that as she closed the distance to the drivers side and climbed in. You slid into the backseat with Armin, doing your best to cover yourself with your coat. Armin had his head in his hands as he leaned forward in his seat, his blonde hair curtaining over his face.

"You alright?" you asked as Mikasa turned around and pulled out of the driveway. Eren was leaning back in his seat, his eyes closed. Armin nodded and leaned back with a sigh.

"Yeah, it was just a long night." he smiled tiredly at you and you nodded in agreement.

"Yeah it was." you agreed as you turned to look out at the snowy scenery.

"Should I take you home?" Mikasa asked tentatively, you pursed your lips in thought, if you went home now you hoped that you could just go to bed and that your brother would give you some space. However if you went to the Jeagers you knew that you could sleep for the rest of the day undisturbed. But the thought of your own bed was too enticing.

"Yes please." you finally said, Mikasa nodded and turned down onto one of the many winding back roads that would take you to your house. It must have snowed some more last night because now the trees were heavy with snow, the roads still bathed in a white with few tire tracks. It was an early Saturday morning so it wasn't surprising that people had chosen to stay home, especially given the icy state of the roads. You began to get nervous as Mikasa turned onto your road and then onto your driveway. You noticed that Erwin and Hange's cars were both in the driveway, both covered in snow. You thanked Mikasa and told her to text you when they got home safely before climbing out, slinging your bag over your shoulder and pulling your house key out. You waved as they pulled out of the drive and out onto the road. You unlocked the door as quietly as you could, kicking off your shoes and tip toeing through the kitchen and up the stairs. The house was quiet and dark, you made sure to be extra quiet as you walked past Erwin's room, shutting your door behind you, you sighed with relief before once again sliding your jeans off and slipping into a pair of grey sweats.

You plugged your phone in and crawled under your covers, your head still spinning as you fell into your pillows. You drifted in and out of sleep for about four hours before giving up on getting more rest. Besides, the bustling sounds of your mom, Erwin, and Hange in the kitchen was growing from a muffle, to a roar in your hungover state. You threw the covers off before padding over to your closet in search of something to cover your bruised neck. You paused at your vanity and switched on your lamp to inspect the damage. Dark purple bruises littered your throat and collarbones, you counted at least four bad ones. You hissed as you touched the sensitive skin, the highest hickey was right below your jaw, nearly impossible to cover. You cursed as you continued with your task of finding a hoodie to throw on. Thankfully that covered all except the one below your jaw.

You sat at your vanity and began rubbing a quarter over the area in hopes of lightening the bruise before applying concealer. You frowned, setting down the quarter to inspect your work, the angry skin was still red, but not nearly as bad, so your began to blend in some concealer. Once you were pleased with your handy work you grabbed your empty water bottle and steeling your nerves to go down to the kitchen. As you descended the stairs you could smell your mom making lunch, hear Hange's tik tok for you page, and see Erwin at the dining room table typing away on his laptop. No signs of Levi, maybe you had been seeing things last night. Your mom turned to greet you a smile on her face as you walked to the fridge to refill your water.

"Good morning sleeping beauty." She teased as she leaned over to ruffle your hair. You smiled weakly at her and batted her hand away from your head.

"Good afternoon." you greeted as you screwed the cap back onto your water.

"Want something to eat?" she asked as she nodded towards the skillet with butter and bread, you noticed a sliced avocado and some lunch meat and cheese. Your stomach churned at the thought of food but you nodded, knowing that it would make you feel better.

"Yes please." you said as you wandered over to sit next to Hange, who now was watching you intently.

"What are your plans for today?" she asked as you sat next to her. You shrugged, not having though that far in advance.

"Not sure yet." you admitted as Hange pursed her lips in thought.

"How about dinner and a movie with Erwin, Levi and I?" She offered, a hopeful look on her face. You knew that Hange dealt with most conflict like this, favoring to act like nothing had happened, unless of course it was a big fight. You nodded, deciding that it might be nice and give you a chance to apologize for last night. But not too much apologizing because you knew that you had been right in standing your ground.

"Who's house?" you asked curiously, mostly expecting her to say that it would be at your house.

"Levi's." she smiled sheepishly, your mouth fell open into an 'o', usually Levi tried to keep his friends away from his house. You'd never been insides, the closest you'd gotten was his driveway when Erwin picked him up a few times before Levi got his license.

"Huh okay. What time?" you asked, glancing at the clock.

"As soon as we finish lunch." it was already twelve thirty, a bit early to watch movies.

"Really? Isn't that a bit....early?" you chewed your lip nervously, feeling unprepared for what would be another casual evening. Hange shrugged and stirred her cup of iced coffee with a smile.

"Yeah I guess but Levi's probably just going to sleep through it anyway." she chuckled, your brows furrowed, remembering that Levi was probably exhausted from his travels and your temper tantrum.

"Oh yeah, why'd he come back so early did something happen?" you asked, hoping that Hange would shed some light on the situation.

"Ah well he just decided that he missed me too much." she winked at you but you noticed the brief flash of uncertainty across her face. Whether she wasn't telling you the full truth or she herself was unsure remained a mystery.

"Say want to come upstairs and help me with my history?" She asked after moment of silence when she noticed you were spiraling into the recesses of your thoughts.

"Sure but why do you need my help?" you asked as Hange grabbed your wrist and drug you up stairs to Erwin's room. You frowned when you couldn't see her backpack or any of her school supplies that she usually had scattered around the room.

"Wheres your-"

"I'm so sorry about last night." Hange took your hands into her own and looked at you with wide eyes. You felt your lip quiver as she ran her thumbs over your knuckles.

"It's fine it's not your fault." you mumbled as your eyes fell to the floor.

"But it is! I convinced Levi to come back early." she confessed, her glasses fogging up as her eyes watered. Your eyes widened at her confession, but still you didn't blame her. It was Erwin that you were mad with right now, not Levi.

"I'm not mad at you or Levi." you said softly, squeezing her hand in reassurance. She sniffled, and pushed her gently pulled her hands back to push her glasses off her face so she could wipe a single tear off her cheek.

"You're not?" she asked, a small smile gracing her lips.

"No, I just got frustrated with Erwin. If I'd known that Levi was coming home then I wouldn't have gone to the party." you explained, glad that you were able to clear the air between you and Hange. You chuckled airily as she pulled you into a tight hug.

"I know he can be overbearing at times but, he just cares about you. He doesn't want to screw you up." she mumbled into your hair as she rubbed your back soothingly. You hugged her back just as tightly.

"I know." you sighed as you buried your head into her shoulder.

"You don't have to apologize just yet, but I would like you two to come to terms sooner rather than later." she said softly, you nodded in agreement. You hated fighting with Erwin, but you knew that if you didn't say something about how you felt, then he would never catch on. Admittedly, you wished that you'd handled the whole ordeal sober, but there was no going back now.

"Yeah I guess." you agreed as Hange pulled the two of you onto Erwin's bed. She smiled at you, pleased with herself.

"So, want to tell me about the party last night? Seemed like fun!" she said as she fell back onto the bed on her back. You remained seated as you tried to think of where to start.

"It was fun...we mostly just sat around and talked." you shrugged as you turned to gauge her reaction.

"Annie's got a huge house." Hange commented with a chuckle, you nodded in agreement.

"She does"

"Did you see Jean?" She asked, propping herself up on her elbows to study you.

"Yeah, he found me after you left. Sat with me in the bathroom for a little bit before we went back with the group." you nodded, giving her a smile.

"You call him out?" she quizzed as her eyes widened.

"Not really, I think that he's got some stuff going on and I don't want to give him too hard of a time." you shrugged indifferently, you were over that drama.

"Ah I see, well there's plenty of fish in the sea." Hange plopped back down onto her back and fell silent.

"Yeah and lots of trash." you huffed, Hange snorted.

"Damn right."

You spent the rest of the afternoon with Hange and Erwin in his room, Erwin continued to work as you and Hange sat on his bed talking and scrolling through your phones. The winter days were short, so by the time that five had rolled around, the sun had already sunk below the horizon. Erwin's phone chimed and he paused his work to glance at the lit screen.

"He says to come now." He said, shutting his laptop and crossing the room to throw on a fresh shirt.

"Took him long enough." Hange grunted as she stretched and stood up as well.

"What movie are we watching?" you asked as you shoved your phone into your pocket.

"Probably Pulp Fiction, it's his favorite you know." Hange said with a wink as she stooped to pick up one of her bras off the floor. Your nose scrunched with slight disgust as she pulled her shirt off and pulled the bra on. You were also guilty of wearing the same bra more than once, but the thought of Hange and your brother doing stuff made you want to barf.

"Hm okay." you said as you went to go double check your appearance in the bathroom. You decided that instead of wearing sweats, you would change into a pair of leggings so you didn't look like a complete hobo. Once you were changed, you rushed down the stairs to meet Hange and Erwin at the door.

"I can drive since you drove last night." Hange said, spinning her keys around her pointer finger as she watched Erwin pull his shoes on.

"Fine" Erwin agreed as he slid his arms into his letter jacket, you pulled your own shoes on and the three of you carefully made your way out to Hange's car. You sat in the back, bouncing your knee anxiously as you neared your destination. You felt both excited and nervous, although you spent a lot of time with Erwin and his friends, it wasn't often that they invited you along with them for outings like these.

Hange pulled up to Levi's house, a modest home with two cars parked in the driveway, one you recognized as Levi's and another that you knew to be Kenny's. The three of you walked up the the front door and Erwin let himself in after a curt knock. The front door led you right into Levi's living room, where Kenny was passed out asleep watching some car show. The three of you tip toed past him and into the kitchen, and down a short hallway, pausing in front of a door. You looked at the pictures on the wall, most of them of Kenny and a young woman that you assumed was Levi's mother. There were a few younger pictures of Levi, one with his mother, but most of him and Kenny.

Erwin pushed the door open and led the way down to the basement. The t.v was already on and you could see the hazy smoke of Levi's dab pen lingering in the air. You could make out the top of his head peeking over the small couch. The basement was small, not much beyond two small couches and a tv. Although there was a pool table jammed into the far corner. You noticed a small shelf with a record player on top, a neatly organized stack of records filed underneath it. Levi didn't acknowledge the three of you as Hange and Erwin plopped down onto the couch opposite of Levi. You sat stiffly on the opposite end of Levi's couch. He scrolled through the tv before pulling up The Goonies. The movie started and Hange and Erwin cuddled up together and began whispering and giggling.

Levi sat his phone down and leaned back into the couch, you curled your legs up beneath yourself as you tried to get comfortable. Levi glared at you as you shifted for the millionth time.

"Quick wiggling around" he scolded and you paused, your legs now spread as you leaned back into the leather couch.

"Sorry" you mumbled as you tried to pay attention.

"You want a blanket?" Hange asked as she grabbed a neatly folded balnket off the back of her couch. You nodded and held your hands up to catch the bundle. She tossed it and you covered yourself quickly. Erwin and Hange had already found a blanket to wrap up in, you watched as the police scene in the movie continued to unfold. You doubted that Levi would bring up the night prior, especially seeing that he hadn't even bothered to greet you yet. You brought your legs back up to the couch and grunted in frustration as you tried to find a comfortable position.

As you finally settled on leaning agains the arm of the couch with your legs slanted sideways, but this positon hurt your knees, so as you moved to throw them back over the edge. You sighed and glanced longingly at Hange, wishing that she would sit with you. You considered squeezing in next to her on the couch, and decided to give it a try. You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and stood up, Levi glanced at you, his eyes narrowed into slits. You shuffled across the room and plopped down onto Hange's lap. She wrapped her arms around you and leaned back into the couch.

"What's wrong little baby?" she teased as she held you.

"I'm just cold" you lied as she rubbed your arms to warm you up.

"Sureeee" Hange said, poking your cheek. Erwin scoffed and pushed you off Hange's lap. You fell with a thud onto the ground, you gasped as you looked up at Erwin.

"Jerk" you huffed, throwing the blanket off and lunging at him. He easily knocked you back onto your ass, but stood up to his full height. You came at him once more, this time trying to throw him off balance by tackling his midsection. He chuckled and allowed you to throw your weight into the attack, your sock covered feet sliding against the carpet comically. Finally Erwin tired of watching you struggle and looped an arm under your own midsection and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Levi scoffed as Erwin dangled you near his face, you clawed at Erwin's back, looking for anything to grab onto. You flailed around, but you couldn't do much since Erwin had you flipped upside down, your back against his own broad back. Finally you fell still, relaxing your muscles and allowing the blood to rush to your face.

Levi's eyes widened at the sight of dark purple marks that were littered along the column of your throat. He felt a rage spark in his chest, his eyes zeroed in on the bruises, the edges of them still prickled red and irritated. They had to have been from the previous night, but from who? That jerk that cheated on you? Or that blonde that you'd dated the previous year? The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.

Erwin dropped you down and you quickly smoothed your clothes down, giving him a weary glare. He fell back onto the sofa by Hange and with a heavy sigh, returned his attention back to the TV. You gave Hange's lap one last longing look before returning to your seat by Levi. You felt the tension radiating off him in thick waves, you also tensed, trying to prepare yourself for whatever had set him off this time.

"Levi, can we have some popcorn?" Hange pleaded, her hands clasped together as she gave Levi soft pleading puppy eyes.

"Tch." Levi threw his blanket off and stood, for once he was happy to have an excuse to escape the stuffy basement.

"I'll come with you" you offered, jumping to your feet and following him up the stairs. Levi stalked through the dark hall and into the kitchen, where he riffled through the cabinets and pulled a handful of popcorn packets. You shifted awkwardly near the small table before deciding to take a seat. It was an interesting shift in the dynamic that you'd become so familiar with, usually you were the one jumping through hoops to please your guests. While Levi was by no means going to great lengths to ensure his guests' comfort, it was still fun to watch him fill the role of host for once.

"Want to tell me about what got into you last night?" Levi's cold voice made you flinch. You felt the guilt seep back into you, making you feel heavy and a tad sick.

"If I'd known you were coming back I wouldn't have gone." you said honestly, your eyes falling to your lap.

"That's a shit explanation." Levi scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. Your head snapped up, rage filling you once more. It wasn't fair of him to dictate your social life when he went and partied whenever he pleased.

"It's not like you don't go to parties like that." you replied, your eyes meeting his dark ones.

"Doesn't mean it's right." Levi said as he pushed off the counter and stalked across the kitchen to stand on the opposite end of the table.

"Look, I appreciate your concern but it was my choice, and I was having fun until you guys showed." You stood up and glared daggers at Levi.

"Right, and I assume that whoever gave you those disgusting marks was having fun too?" he snarled, his hand gesturing towards your neck. Your hand flew to your throat to cover the marks Annie had given you.

"If you're jealous just say so." you growled, as you matched his shitty attitude.

"Why would I be jealous? If I wanted you I would already have had you." his words cut through you.

"Then quit acting so psycho! You're giving me these crazy mixed signals." you snapped, your voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm not the one giving mixed signals, you're the one who kissed me and then gave me blue balls." Levi hissed has hand slapped loudly against the table in his frustration and you flinched, eyes widening at his sudden outburst.

"I was seeing Jean and you were with Petra, it doesn't matter how we felt. It was wrong of us to do that." You argued, your voice surprisingly level despite the turmoil of emotions underneath the surface of your facade. Levi scoffed and placed his other hand on the table as he leaned onto the surface.

"Doesn't change the fact that it happened." Levi reasoned, you knew that he was right, that in your moment of impulsiveness when it boiled down to it, the both of you had made a bad decision. One that had not only damaged the already fragile relationship between the two of you but also the relationship between your friends as well.

"I know..." you sighed, the frustration seeping into your tone. You ran a hand through your hair as you looked down at the table, not wanting to meet his gaze. The kitchen fell silent, the sounds of Kenny snoring in the other room and the popcorn popping made you feel as if you were dreaming.

"Look" Levi sighed as he ran a hand down the side of his face, which was twisted into a scowl. You turned to look up at him.

"When-When I'm around you, god this is stupid." He huffed in frustration as he covered his eyes with a hand, his cheeks flushed red. You waited patiently, knowing that moments like these with Levi were few and far between.

"I question everything I do and I get all...jumbled up inside I guess." he continued after a moment. You remained silent, waiting to see if he was finished yet.

"I know that when we kissed it was wrong but I didn't care because, my judgement is all clouded when you're around. And I hate it." he finally took his hand off his face and your stomach dropped at his words.

"But at the same time...I kind of like it?" Levi groaned and dropped into one of the chairs, running his hands through his hair and tugging at the roots.

"Levi-"

"Don't, I don't want to hear it." Levi interrupted you, holding a hand up as he sighed heavily. The microwave beeped and he stood up quickly to pull the hot bag of popcorn out and pour it into a bowl. You stood up and waited patiently for him to finish once more.

"Levi just listen okay" you pleaded, standing between him and the basement.

"Fine." he relented, placing the bowl on the table gently.

"I like spending time with you too, I just know that you're going to college and I guess that it felt a bit unfair that you finally started paying attention to me right before you had to go." you told him, kicking your toe against the floor as you looked down at the immaculately clean floors. You heard the floorboards creak as he shifted as well, unsure of what to do or say next.

"I see..." he muttered as he watched you fidget, your ears felt hot as you still refused to meet his gaze.

"Its settled then." He said, closing the space between you, he caught your hand in his and held it firmly in his grasp.

"I'll stay here, with you." He ran his calloused thumb over your knuckles, and you inhaled sharply, as good as those words felt, you knew that it would be insanely selfish to hold him captive here.

"I can't ask that of you." you said, finally daring to look up at him, his silver eyes were soft in the dim lighting.

"It's not like it's all that bad around here." Levi shrugged as he continued to toy with your fingers, his dull gaze held no fire any longer, making your heart squeeze.

"I know but people say that these next few years of your life are the best, I couldn't ask you to stick around here and miss out on college life." you spoke softly, knowing that if you weren't careful that you could set him off again.

"That's a load of shit." Levi scoffed, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a small peck onto your knuckles. You flushed, becoming a bit frustrated with his reasoning.

"I think you're missing my point..." you said as he looked up at you, his gaze hardening at your tone.

"Which would be?" Levi asked incredulously as he brought your hand up for another sweet kiss.

"My point is that I don't want to be heart broken when you leave for college or whatever it is that you decide to do." you huffed, but allowed him to kiss the inside of your wrist, feeling his lips curl into an almost impish smirk.

"So you admit that being apart breaks your heart?" Levi asked a tab coyly as he looked at you, eyes shining with mischief. You stuck your tongue out and looked away in an attempt to hide your flushed cheeks.

"Of course! If there's one thing I learned over these past few months it's that I hate being away from you, even if when you're around you're just a jerk." you admitted begrudgingly, saying it out loud made you realize how the situation seemed a bit toxic, but you couldn't care too much about that in this moment.

"Then I won't leave, I'll go to school online and work for my uncle." Levi shrugged nonchalantly and you felt your heart flutter, but you squashed your feelings before they could swell too much.

"Levi, is that what you really want?" you asked, squeezing his hand to hold his attention. Levi's brows furrowed thoughtfully as he watched your fingers intertwine with his.

"I don't know what I want, school wise that is. But I do know that I want to be with you." He said, his voice steady and confident as you smiled at him softly.

"That's good enough for me." you sighed, standing to your full height as he grabbed the popcorn, the two of you had kept Erwin and Hange waiting long enough.

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the meet-ugly prompts: #13, Indruck, SFW ? 👁️👁️

Here you go!

13: we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

The Phoenix Starport is a labyrinth, while technically made of chrome and touch-screens, is really made of lines.

Duck stands in line to show his ticket, to deposit his bags, to go through three separate security check-points and, when he gets to the section for the shuttle to take him to the Starliner, a fourth one because when your clients are high paying, you don’t want them getting blown to pieces.

He isn’t high-paying, he isn’t a seasoned space traveler, and he isn’t going to spend one second more on his feet than he has to. It’s been two solid hours of that just to get to this point. Unfortunately, every other passenger shares this sentiment. When the shuttle door opens a mass of lifeforms pile in, hunting for seats. Duck spots one, turns to sit, and finds it’s much fuzzier than it looked.

“Excuse me.” The creature whose laps he’s in reminds him of the pictures of Mothman scattered around his home state, “but this seat is taken.”

“Yeah, by me, because I saw it first.”

A click from inside the mothmans chest, “You are wrong. I saw it first, and did not foresee anyone being rude enough to use me in its place.”

Every other seat is filled, and it’s a fifteen minute ride to the Starliner. Duck crosses his arms, “you don’t wanna be a seat, you better get up.”

That earns him an annoyed chirr, “Not a chance.”

The shuttle ride is smooth, but his seat keeps prodding him with a clawed finger whenever he puts his weight on it. When they arrive, the two of them stand one after the other. The mothman shakes out his feathers, tosses a glare over his shoulder, and steps through the doors.

Unsurprisingly, the Sylvain Dream makes opulence seem subdued. There are rare flowers studding the fountain by the concierge desk, art from across the universe on the walls, and a sound dampening, shimmering carpet lining the hall to his room. He’s looking forward to some alone time; while all the suites at this level are technically two person, they’re so expensive that most travelers get their own rooms.

He keys open the door and comes face to chest with the same fucking alien from the shuttle.

“Ah. So we are in this timeline. Lovely.” The mothman says dryly, passing him to greet the bellhop who just finished scurrying up the stairs, “I see you have a message from minister Woodbridge. Kindly have someone reply and tell him that if it’s an emergency, they may contact me directly, but if the matter is anything else, they are to leave me in peace during my journey.”

“Yes, Seer Cold.”

“Thank you.” the seer drops a coin into his hand and brushes past Duck without another word.

Duck finally makes it past the entryway and gasps; when the people paying for his journey asked if he’d prefer forest, city, beach, or desert, he assumed it was some sort of vague theme. Instead, the carpet is lush, soft grass, there are flowers everywhere, and the furniture is all made to be woodsy and rustic. The bath and shower are like a mini water-fall and pool, his bed housed in a mock cabin.

“This is amazing.”

“If you are here purely for a leisure trip.” His suite-mate crosses both sets of arms, “some of us are being transported back to work.”

“Now look, this is a work trip for me too. You gotta admit this is pretty swank.”

“And an attempt to soften the blow.” Mothman mutters.

Duck rolls his eyes, decides this is not his problem to deal with, and goes to unpack for the month-long journey ahead.

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

For the first two days he and Indrid--which is what the aloof, perpetually touchy Sylph likes to be called--do their best to ignore each other. They’re stuck on the same dining schedule, which means Duck accidentally insults the alien by giggling when he sees him lick his dessert up with an absurdly long tongue. He makes it up to the next night by saving the pineapple soda delivered in their lunch basket for the Sylph.

On day three, he’s reading by the holo-fire pit when a white badge with blue writing dangles before him.

“Would you like to accompany me to the spa?”

“Uh….”

“Since I foresee you asking no, we do not have to spend the entire time together.”

“I, uh, I was gonna say sure, but was wonderin’ why you offered it to me.”

“Oh.” His antenna flick in a new way, “I, ah, they gave me two. I have no one else to go with and it seemed silly to let it go to waste.”

“I gotta wear anything special?”

“Since humans require clothes in all but a few scenarios, I suggest wearing your robe.”

The spa is just as elaborate as the rest of the ship, with cushy chairs and complimentary booze. The secretary hands them each a menu of treatments bigger than any Duck’s held at a restaurant.

“Sugar scrub….talon wax….rock massage. Do they mean hot rocks?”

“No, that treatment helps those with scales shed.”

“Huh.” Duck pokes his tongue in his cheek, “wish they said which of these were safe for, uh, squishy human bodies.”

Indrid reaches out a claw, tapping several on the list, “This ful massage would be good; you’re muscular, it will be nice to have those muscles tended to.”

“Oh, uh, thanks. Have been workin out more, nice to have someone else notice.”

The Sylph smiles, “you may also like the hair luxury add-on; I’ve always thought humans with salt and pepper hair should show it off.”

Before Duck can ask how Indrid developed that opinion or learned that slang, they’re ushered off into separate rooms. He’s scrubbed and rubbed until his body surrenders the last of it’s stress, the oils they rub on his skin and into his hair smelling pleasantly of pine and cedar. His session ends with one of the staff leading him to a small room covered in deep green marble, where he can rinse and dry off in his own time.

Indrid is in the same room, reclining in a chair with a sun lamp on his wings. They’ve been groomed, the feather straighter and smoother than this morning. Duck takes his first real look at them, notices how the black is iridescent and that there are two bands of deep grey on the inside close to Indrid’s torso.

He’s really quite stunning.

“I feel” Indrid murmurs, “as if we got off to a bad start.”

“You think?” Duck aims for a genial tone.

Indrid cocks his head, “Yes. That is why I said it. I, ah, I ought to apologize for my temperament over the last few days. I am so very fond of earth, of humans, and I’d hoped to be able to work there indefinitely. But Sylvain is in crisis, and so they need me near. Never mind that we have the capability to transmit messages quickly between planets.”

“What’s the crisis?”

“Our plants are dying or failing to produce the resources we need. The belief is that-”

“-it’s a leftover contamination or mutation from the earth plants that crossed through the gate before it was destroyed.”

Indrid blinks, then grins, “it is novel to be the one having their sentences finished. Yes, Duck Newton; the gate has been gone for over two hundred years, but both our worlds will feel it’s effects for many more years.” His antenna perk up, “you’re the one they’re bringing on to consult.”

“Yep. That’s why they gave me such a sweet deal on the trip; they know it’s gonna be fuckin exhaustin work. Even with all the other perks they’re offerin, I know a lot of folks didn’t wanna apply.”

“Why did you feel differently?”

He pushes to the other side of the little pool so they can be closer, “I spent my whole life in the town I grew up in. I love what I do, I love helpin forests stay healthy and regrow and I...I dunno, how often do you get the chance to go to space and see forests on another planet?”

“Once, if you are me.” Indrid closes his wings, clicks off the light, and offers Duck a hand, “and I am glad you will have the chance to do the same.”

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

“You know” Indrid passes Duck the plate of toast, “I am named for Sylph who was the second most recent seer after myself. He and I are the same kind of Sylph, and when my parents learned their mothling-to-be was the next seer, they decided I would be Indrid Cold.”

“Not gonna lie, people actin like your fate is set in stone from birth gives me the creeps.”

“Understandable. I would not admit this to the other ministers, but I am no longer content with reporting on the futures. I try to change fate when I can. In this way, I am also like the first Indrid Cold. He kept trying to intervene in disasters; that’s how he got seen when he should not have been.”

“Holy fuck, there really was a mothman!”

“Indeed. I also learned from his personal notes that he was so fond of humans, he ended up marrying one.”

“Damn” Duck passes him the sweetener for his tea, teases, “you share that habit too?”

Red eyes linger a moment too long on his body before Indrid grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

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

“You sure you don’t wanna swim?” Duck treads water in the green lagoon of some distant moon. The cruise is docked for an activity day, Duck having selected to spend it snorkeling and Indrid deciding to spend it with Duck.

“The wings are not built for it. Though the water does look pleasant.” Indrid lazily sifts black sand through his claws.

“You could wade in. It stays pretty shallow there” he points to a sand bar.

“If I get in over my head, will you come to my aid?”

“You know it.”

Indrid wades in, chirping as the waves hit his knees. When Duck next glances at him, Indrid is glancing right back. He’s smiling, soft and secretive.

“I am glad you picked this spot. The view is spectacular.”

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

They’ve hit turbulence a handful of times, all of which pale in comparison to the jolt that sends him tumbling out of bed. There are stabilizer controls to lighten the gravity in the room so they won’t feel the bumps as badly. But when he wobbles over, he finds it’s already up to the lowest it can be without him floating.

He stumbles to the window, the curtains shut against the vast universe. Is turbulence this severe normal? If the gravity doohickey isn’t able to help, maybe that means they’ve never hit a storm this bad.

Opening the window is a terrible idea; there’s no cause of the turbulence to be seen, and now he’s in a dark room staring into the depths of space, it’s so big, he’s so small, they all are, the forces of nature still have it in them to crack this ship like an egg, killing them all.

“Would it help if I said there are no futures where this storm poses a threat to us?” Indrid whispers from behind him.

“Kinda.”

“Would it help to see something breathtaking?”

“Wh-”

Indrid taps the glass, drawing Ducks attention to two massive, starry shapes, “Celestial whales. At least that’s the human name for them.”

“Holy fuck.” They remind Duck of Whale Sharks, but impossibly bigger, skin coated in thousands of star-spots, “how can they do that? I mean, obviously they ain’t mammals, but fuckin nothin thrives in deep space.”

“No one is certain.” Indrid sighs, happily, “isn’t it wonderful to know there are such things in the universe?”

“Yeah. AHfuck” He hits the wall as the whole ship shudders, “fuck, sorry-”

“It’s alright. It can be alarming when you’re on your first trip through the cosmos. I, ah, I have something that may help, if you’re alright with me touching you some.”

“Fine by me.” Duck follows Indrid to the Sylph’s bed. The seer sits cross-legged with his back against the wall and instructs Duck to rest his head in his lap. The points of his claws begin rubbing his neck and the base of his skull, Indrid humming at a low, steady pitch until Duck’s eyes start to close.

The pressure points are helping, he can tell by his loosening spine. But what soothes him to sleep is the repetitive reminder of Indrid there with him in the dark.

When he wakes up the storm is gone. His body is still moving, rising and falling in time with Indrid’s breath as he sleeps. He pulled Duck atop him in the night, and at some point must have wrapped him in his wings, since once, is still half-flopped on Duck’s back.

Seized with affection, Duck kisses his shoulder. When this earns him a happy chirp, he does it again, then kisses a cheerful path up to Indrid’s cheek. Red eyes open, sleepy and full of tenderness, just in time for the Sylph to turn his head and kiss Duck properly.

“What a lovely thing to awaken to.”

“No kiddin” Duck kisses him again, “fuck, Indrid, this is the weirdest goddamn thing to ever happen to me and I’m thinkin it might also be the best.”

Indrid hugs him close, “We shall have ample time to find out, if you wish to do so.”

“Hell yeah. But we only got a few days before we hit Sylvain.”

“Yes” Indrid kisses his nose, “but I happen to foresee Woodbridge ignoring my request for peace and sending me a message saying I will be working closely with a certain, visiting forestry expert.”

#indrid cold/ duck newton #indruck #taz amnesty #meet ugly #reader request

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yan-twst · 4 years

Note

Could I get yandere dorm leaders reacting to a reader seeking refuge from them though another yander dorm leader? Thanks so much you're the best!

i’m gonna assign the og couples (as in, who the darling is running from) as i think would be more interesting for the plot! hope you don’t mind

warning: general yandere themes, vague mentions of violence

riddle rosehearts

riddle has assumed that his crush had dropped out, gone missing; his obsession had been cut before it could truly bloom

sure, he’d been jealous of azul for nagging the one he loved, but... well, with how quickly they disappeared, riddle didn’t even have time to become deadly jealous

but now... his crush has shown up to the door of his dorm one rainy night, crawling and desperately banging against the door. riddle hadn’t expected this- ever- he’d assumed someone had broken curfew and had gotten locked out: however, when he sees his once beloved, he’s so shocked he doesn’t even ask why they’re there, letting them in

riddle’s anger boils when his crush tells him what happened- azul held them captive, he forced them to act like his lover, the punishments...

however... if his darling expected for him to set them free, they were wrong

riddle will try to find a way to make azul regret his decisions; however, having his darling in his arms triggers his own obsession

it’s going from a cruel master into another cruel man’s grip. riddle will apply strict rules, curfews and limit the places his darling can even walk to; he says it’s for his darling’s protections

they don’t want to be found by azul, do they...? so they better obey his words

leona kingscholar

leona had never cared for malleus’ lover; he hated them because he hated malleus, plain and simple. however, he wasn’t about to put any energy into actively making their life difficult- one day, they simply stopped being seen around NRC, and leona assumed they’d either broken up with malleus or dropped out

so when one day, they desperately run into savanaclaw and practically cling to leona, he’s quite curious as to what the hell happened

malleus... so the damn fae held them captive, huh? he can believe it; after all, malleus did have some nasty rumours... to think he’d hold a person captive as his lover, and use sleeping curses to keep them captive... damn- the man is a monster, isn’t he?

but don’t confuse his comment for pity. oh, sure, he thinks malleus is gross for doing what he did- however...

... well, if malleus is so obsessed and desperate for his darling, wouldn’t it be the ultimate “fuck you” to take his beloved as his?

he doesn’t see malleus’ escape darling as a poor victim, rather a token to use in order to make malleus miserable

he’ll mark them, cuddle them, treat them like his mate: at first it was just to revel in the fact he was tainting something malleus thought belonged to him, but as time passes, leona grows attached to his new plaything. in fact, too attached- if they thought malleus putting them to sleep was torture, they’ll begin to dread even making leona vaguely angry

azul ashengrotto

this man’s greed knows no limits. he’s heard rumours of kalim’s beloved: how the rich heir loves to show them off, how he dresses them in expensive clothes and parades them around in his parties, but said lover is never seen outside of these parties, by kalim’s side

of course azul wants them. to him, kalim’s lover seems less like a person and more like a jewel- another show of opulence by the asim heir. and god, does azul want that

so when one day, he leech twins lead a weakened person into the VIP lounge, and this person turns out to be kalim’s beloved jewel... azul is exstastic

they want to escape kalim, they say? the revelation is shocking to him- why would they want that...? oh, so kalim keeps them captive? he’s stolen away their freedom...? interesting, interesting... so they want protection from the asim heir, to not be taken captive again...

yes, of course he can do that! why, just sign a contract, and he’ll promise that kalim won’t ever lay a hand on them again

... because they’ll be kept captive in his room now, guarded by the leech twins

he feels like he’s just won the biggest jewel in the world. at first, he just keepts them because of the power it gives him- he could surely get quite a lot of wealth out of kalim using his darling no? but... he gets too attached

he’s decided on not letting kalim get his darling back: by now, azul is desperately in love with them. they went from the frying pan and into the fire- compared to how kind and considerate kalim was, azul’s erratic treatment will be hell for his darling

kalim al-asim

kalim didn’t even know idia had a partner; the outgoing dorm leader has trouble connecting with the neet leader of ignihyde

however, when a weakened and a bit bruised shows up to scarabia and pleads for him to protect them, he absolutely doesn’t care he doesn’t know who they are- he quickly gives them refugee in the large dorm

he’s horrified to learn what idia did. keeping them captive so they couldn’t run from him...? forcing his darling into staying on a relationship with him...! that’s horribly! no matter how much idia loved them, he couldn’t do that...!

when he sees how terrified idia’s darling is of being found by idia, he’ll do all he can to protect them; he gives them their own room, asks jamil to guard them... and he spends most of his free time with them, so he can reassure them they’ll be fine

his presence is so reassuring, idia’s ex darling won’t even notice how kalim is slowly growing obsessed, or how he’s slowly cutting their freedom once again

it’s for their protection, isn’t it? they understand, right? everything he does is because he cares for them and doesn’t want them to fall back on idia’s hands!

surely, going from being locked in idia’s room to the grand, palace-like rooms where kalim keeps them is like going from a small birdcage to a mansion; but a cage is a cage, and they are trapped with kalim all the same

vil schoenheit

vil was always of the opinion leona didn’t deserve his lover- the evil queen believed that such a beautiful person wasn’t fit to be dealing with such a lazy man who didn’t take much care of himself. however, he mostly just voiced his opinions to rook- once leona’s darling stopped being seen, vil assumed that his partner had made the right choice and left

oh, how wrong he was

when leona’s darling arrives to his dorm, interrupting his beauty sleep, vil is horrified by their state. they’re weakened, bruised and battered- their eyes look full of fear and panic as they beg for him to let them in, before leona finds them, please-

vil fusses over them. what a brute leona was! he’ll huff and rant about how he always had a bad feeling about leona as he nurses his darling back to health

and hm... as he had thought, leona’s ex darling is truly beautiful- he silently thinks it’s no shock leona did what he did. after all, such a beautiful person would be a terrible loss if they were to leave, wouldn’t they...?

he also quite likes caring for leona’s ex-darling: doing their makeup, getting them clothes, they’re like a doll, aren’t they...? he loathes to think one day they’ll be fine and leave- god, he hates it...

... so he begins to administer love potions with the smoothies he so kindly makes them every morning.

go on, drink it all; they need to regain their strength! oh, isn’t he so kind? yes, yes, he’ll accept their affections with open arms, so go on! he’s drunk on hearing how much his darling loves him

idia shroud

of course leona knew who vil’s beloved was. the man had his little doll everywhere in his social media- idia has a crush on them, but what the hell can he do? it’s not like he can measure up to vil...

so when vil’s darling shows up to his dorm’s door, nervously glancing around and be let in, idia doesn’t even hesitate

he’s way too giddy- enough so to make vil’s ex feel a bit unsettled... but, he does offer them refuge, a room to stay in, food, and safety; he at least seems genuinely heartbroken when they tell him their story

to think... someone so idolized like vil would do that... idia is heartbroken; how had he not realized? surely, if he looked at pictures of vil’s darling every day, he should have noticed something... how had he not noticed their glazed-over eyes, telltale signs of a love potion in work?

but... if someone as loved as vil had to keep his darling using those methods, then- how was someone like him even supposed to not have his darling run away when he confessed...?!

his snapping seems almost random; one day he’s promising to keep his darling safe from vil, the next day they have a thick, long chain keeping them trapped in his room

it’s a shame, really. when vil kept them, he used love potions to keep them obedient and loving- and at least the love potion made them think they were happy and in love for a while. but idia just keeps them; already convinced they won’t ever love them- they’re prisoners in his room, to his deranged obsession

malleus draconia

in some sense, malleus envies heartslabyul students quite a bit. they all seem to be quite close, always hosting tea parties and unbirthday parties... to him, who lives such a lonely existence, he can’t help but look at riddle and envy how his dorm works

he’d seen riddle walk hand in hand with another student some times, but he didn’t even know their name- to him, it was just yet another thing he couldn’t have due to his reputation

he finds it odd when riddle’s darling runs up to diasomnia one night, terrified and beat up. they wish to be rescued, so they come to him...? he’s surprised that they would come to him, of all people- but of course, he promises to protect them

having his darling not leave the diasomnia dorm, and always by his side is just part of protecting them. since riddle’s darling was so used to being subject to riddle’s strict rules and harsh punishment, this treatment by malleus almost feels like freedom

he grows attached quite rapidly; he rarely gets to spend times with others, so to have someone cling to him for safety... it’s addicting, almost.

soon enough he’ll have sebek and silver make sure his darling doesn’t ever leave, and he’ll have lilia help out as well: by now, his darling has probably realized their mistake. malleus isn’t their saviour- he’s just another obsessive, protective monster.

#yandere #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia

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simpingforsoftboys · 3 years

Text

The Odds of Us All

Special CH1: A Glance At The Past (the one where Sakusa meets Y/n)

Okay so this chapter takes place right before Y/n’s first year of high school! I wanted to write more Sakusa within the “The Odds of Us All” AU but it’s not my dudes time to shine yet :( So here we are, I’m going to write about the time Y/n met Kiyo ahahhaha. Enjoy my fellow Sakusa simps ;)

*technically this can be read as a stand alone one shot but why would you only settle for that when you can read the series?

“Y/n, I know you want to stick by Tetsuro and Kenma... but you seriously need to consider your future. Eventually you’ll have to separate from them, don’t let your history hold you back in the past.” M/n Ushijima, Y/n’s competent and straight forward mother advised, gazing at her daughter with a knowing stare. At the moment the h/c girl was looking through a long lists of high schools she had the options of attending. Her top four options were Fukurodani Academy, Shiratorizawa Academy, Itachiyama Institute, and Nekoma High.

Fukurodani was a good option, they had a focus on subjects like Japanese and English literature, as well as history and art. While Nekoma High’s more favored subjects were the STEM courses, and they even had a bonus of being the chosen high school of her childhood friends, Kuroo and Kenma. These two were the cheapest options- neither of them being a private academy like the other two.

Itachiyama Institute was probably the place her mother wanted her to attend, they were renowned for their excellent college prep classes, exceptional sports teams, and high rate of graduating students getting into Imperial Universities (Japan’s Ivy League basically). Shiratorizawa Academy was all the way in Miyagi- but they had a dorm that she could stay in. There was also the fact that she was guaranteed an invitation from the headmaster himself, due to the Ushijima family’s children studying there as per tradition. Her cousin Wakatoshi also attended the school, as expected of him, if she chose to follow his lead she was guaranteed friends and a good time also.

Choosing a high school was hard- especially when her mother was pushing her in one direction, only to backtrack and say that she would support her no matter what school she wanted to attend. Y/n briefly wondered what it’d be like when deciding on a university in the future- however those thoughts were far from pleasant so she shook them off.

“I... don’t know mom.” M/n looked at her daughter long and hard, releasing a soft sigh before pulling out her phone and tapping away.

“How about you take Itachiyama’s entrance exams and see if you at least qualify? Any other school on this list will accept you as a student in a heartbeat. At least this way you’ll know if Itachiyama is even an option for you.”

You blinked, considering her words, they made sense so you agreed.

“Great, the entrance exams are this Sunday, I’ll drop you off then.”

~Time skip to Sunday, location: Itachiyama Institute~

You had finally finished the god awful tests. It had taken an excruciating three hours of your time to complete and your brain felt like literal mush. Stomach rumbling, you made your way to one of the vending machines you remembered passing by earlier. One thing you were glad for was the location of the exams- right in the administration wing of the school- naturally, the heads of the place had access to the best snacks. You walked silently, eyes gazing at the ceiling, not paying attention to anything but the fluorescent lights. Rounding the hallway corner, your eyes fell to the end of the hall- where the vending machine was located. Humming a small tune you continued your leisure stroll, fishing through your pocket for your credit card. After retrieving it you purchased a mini chocolate cake (that looked more like a brownie than anything), white chocolate matcha cookie, and a tiny cup sized bottle of milk tea. As the transaction was going through, you picked up on approaching footsteps and people’s voices.

“Apologies *indistinguishable*-san I simply must take this phone call. There’s a vending machine around the corner, would you please wait for me there?” An adult said, heavy footsteps receding, a door opened, then shut. You turned back to the task of collecting your snacks.

“Is this what I think it is?” A noticeably younger sounding male’s voice asked, barely audible. You vaguely wondered what was going on over there, before promptly setting your food on a nearby chair, pulling out your hand sanitizer and applying it swiftly. As you contemplated what snack to indulge yourself with first, you were deaf to the incoming footsteps and soft gasp from behind you.

“But if I ate the cake I might accidentally spill crumbs in the hallway... maybe the cookie’s a better idea?” You wondered, pocketing your sanitizer, still oblivious to the boy behind you. “Hmm...”

“Uhh... excuse me?” That voice from earlier called out, startling you. You whipped around, only to make eye contact with pretty onyx eyes, the color of warm coal and cooled lava rock. His entire being was outlined in a highlighter yellow- it was kind of fitting, having matched the schools signature colors.

‘Woah my soulmate’s actually kinda hot,’ you thought to yourself, taking in the boys appearance. Wavy black hair, two moles above his right eye, you couldn’t see the rest of his face- since it was obscured by a white face mask. He was perhaps 5′11- but something told you he was on the cusp of a growth spurt. So caught up in your musings you hadn’t noticed that you had accidentally voiced your thoughts out loud. “Thank god he’s not an old man.”

“...Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Mr. Highlighter questioned, staring at you incredulously.

“Oh no did I say that out loud? I am so sorry- I swear I didn’t mean too!” You exclaimed before bowing in apology, cheeks hot with embarrassment. Sometimes you spoke whatever was on your mind- a bad habit you were currently working hard on breaking.

“...” He didn’t say anything, still looking at you judgingly. Internally he was wondering why he was destined to be with someone like you. “Sakusa.”

“Huh?” You straightened back up, wide eyed.

“My name’s Sakusa Kiyoomi... this is the part where you’re supposed to introduce yourself.” Uh oh ‘Sakusa’ sounded a tad bit irritated with you now. His name sounded familiar somehow... but you didn’t quite know why.

“R-right! My name’s Ushijima Y/n!” You smiled nervously, awaiting his reaction. He looked pleasantly surprised at that.

“Ushijima? Like Ushijima Wakatoshi?” Your smile dwindled slightly at his choice of words. Of course he was excited- not because he met you- but because he was able to use you to meet Toshi.

“Yeah... he’s actually my first cousin.” Attempting to keep the conversation flowing you asked “are you a volleyball fan?”

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi noticed how you reacted when he asked about Wakatoshi, so he decided to avoid that topic for now.

“Mm... I’m actually a player. That’s what I’m here for... I was scouted for the volleyball team.” He says it so nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t sought out to join the best high school boys team in the entire country.

You’re just as impressed as he hoped thought you’d be, all starry eyed and mouth open in awe. “Scouted? That’s amazing Sakusa!” He’s pleasantly surprised that you forgoed the honorifics, but a tad bit disappointed at your use of his surname. “You must be very skilled- I’m only here because I had to take the entrance exams.”

“How were they?” He finds himself blurting out softly, it’s uncharacteristic of him- not that you could know that- but he finds that he doesn’t mind being a bit forward when it comes to you. Despite not usually being one for conversation, he doesn’t want this chat to end.

“Mm they were okay I guess... but the math portion was pretty difficult.” Speaking about the hard exams remind you about how hungry they made you and your stomach gurgles in response. Behind his mask, Kiyoomi’s lips quirk at the abashed expression you make- which disappears once you wave it off with a laugh and a brief apology. “Want a cookie? Or a cake?” You question, nodding over to your waiting snacks. He shakes his head. It feels almost invasive as he watches you unwrap your cookie- noticing the care you take in making sure your fingers only touch the wrapper, not wanting to touch the cookie itself, lest you get crumbs on your hands. But you don’t look uncomfortable at his weird interest, so he continues to stare. “I can buy you a snack? What do you like to eat?”

“It’s fine, I have money.” The dark haired male pats his pocket, “I like umeboshi... anything with umeboshi.” Those enchanting e/c orbs flit over to him once more and he discovers that you’re probably the only person that could stare at him endlessly without making him uncomfortable. This thought scares him- he doesn’t even know you- he shouldn’t be thinking such things. You’re tapping away at the vending machines, cookie having been finished and trash tossed in a bin nearby. He assumes you’re just buying another snack for yourself.

“Here... is ume daifuku good?” You question, holding it out to him with one hand, while your other one reaches back into the dispenser part of the machine and retrieves a can of matcha tea. “Delivery for one!” The smile adorning your lips sends a pleasant feeling throughout his body, normal tendencies forgotten, he accepts your offer.

“Thank you... can I pay you back? I don’t have cash on me at the moment, but maybe another time?” He pockets the canned tea and holds the daifuku in one hand, allowing you to spurt some hand sanitizer on his empty one. You shake your head, h/c hair swinging, his heart sinks in his chest- rejection overcoming him.

“Don’t even think about paying me back Sakusa... but we can meet up again... maybe off of school grounds?” A shy look overtakes your features and he can feel his heart picking itself up off the floor and taking flight at how cute you are.

“I... wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Great, let’s keep in touch then! What’s your number? I’ll text you!” He tells you his number, watching as you type it into your phone quickly.

“Say cheese!” You twirl around holding the camera up so that it focuses on Kiyoomi’s tall figure, your head poking in at the corner of the screen. He doesn’t do much- the only noticeable change in his demeanor is the *very* slightly shocked look on his face (you can tell by the wide stretch of his eyes). He licks his lips behind his mask and looks as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Sorry about that Sakusa let’s continue the tour- hm am I interrupting something?” The headmasters voice says from the end of the hallway, he’s pleased to see the two of you together. Both being the children of very influential people- it bode well for the school if you kids got along.

“No, we’re good thank you... I’ll talk to you later Ushijima.”

“Call me Y/n, Sakusa! I’ll text you okay?”

The headmaster walks off, expecting Sakusa to follow. As he passes you he says one last thing.

“You can call me Kiyoomi then.”

Series Masterlist

Taglist: CLOSED @kac-chowsballs @kotwd @ems1des @normalisthenewnorm @micheleinumaki @gomchan @empress-simps @mer-der-mi @honeyswhiskers @sakusas-number1-stan @astronomyturtle @akirahyoshi @afire24 @its-the-aerieljeane @carla-1217 @fucktheworlddude @baes-x @shadoweepingscream @sirachano0dles @katamint @420-uwu @xstormiii @youtuboo @chibiitakoyaki

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu soulmate au

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afewnovelideas · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica, Magia Record: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story, DCU (Comics), Batman (Comics), Young Justice (Comics), Robin (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Kyubey (PMMM), Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Selina Kyle Additional Tags: Tim Drake-centric, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake is Not Okay, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Alternate Universe - Madoka Magica Fusion, Soul Gems (Madoka Magica), Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Magical Boys, Origin Story, No Beta We Die Like Mami, Don't Have to Know Madoka Magica Canon, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent Series: Part 1 of Eques Magi: Originem - Magicka Knights: Origin Summary:

"The Labyrinths of Gotham City are so tightly concentrated, no human born here can escape the influence of at least one or two Witches, if not more. Despite the aura of despair and the constant work of the Witches' various Familiars, there are still those souls who persist in clinging to hope and will do whatever they can to try and make this city a better place, even though all their efforts will ultimately fail in the end.

"It's the perfect environment to find a new Magicka Knight."

---

"Have you ever seen an albino cat?"

Catwoman, aka Selina Kyle, glanced over at Batman's newest Robin curiously. She hadn't been expecting to cross paths with him, but since it was obvious the Big Bad Bat was out of town and Nightwing hadn't shown up at all in the past week, she decided to keep an eye on the new kid for at least the evening. He certainly wasn't like the previous Robin. This thirteen-year-old boy was quiet and thoughtful, which had been quite a change from the previous brash impulsive kid Batman had been mentoring a little over a year ago before they were murdered by the Joker.

She also noticed that this Robin was glancing over his shoulder at something on the rooftop on the other side of the street. "An albino, huh?" she said as she tried to follow his gaze. However, despite using her binoculars to zoom in on the far rooftop, she couldn't see any sign of any animal, feline, albino, or otherwise. "I've heard of them, but never seen one in person," Selina admitted casually as she put away her binoculars. "They are extremely rare." She smiled at Robin. "Have you seen one around town?"

Robin leaned against his bo staff thoughtfully. "I think so, but I'm not really sure."

"Not sure?"

The boy looked up at Selina earnestly. "Y'know how a cat has two pointed ears about here?" Amusingly to the professional cat burglar, Robin made a vague pair of cat-ear shapes with his hand at the top of his head. She smiled affectionately.

"Yeah. It's kind of a defining cat trait, having pointy ears."

Robin pouted slightly at the teasing tone he caught in Catwoman's voice. Then he continued. "Well... This cat I've been seeing... It looks like they have a second set of ears too."

"A second set?"

He nodded. He made a motion with his hands that seemed to make another vague shape that started at the base of where the cat's ears ought to be and downward along either side of its head. "Yeah. They kinda start out here and go all the way down there."

"Are you sure what you're looking at is an albino 'cat'? That kinda sounds more like a white rabbit to me."

"But it has pointy ears like a cat," Robin argued. "And its got a long fluffy tail, and its legs are like a cat's." The young teenager frowned slightly. "It's really weird looking."

"Well it does sound like a unique creature, whatever it is," Selina said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's some sort of cryptid or mutant? This is Gotham after all." She smiled at Robin. "Tell ya what. If you can catch a photo of the critter, I promise I'll take a good hard look and let you know if it's a cat, a rabbit, or something completely different." Then she gave him an almost stern maternal look. "But be careful. Don't get too close. If it does turn out to be something 'not normal', it could be dangerous."

"Okay."

---

It was two nights later and Tim Drake, fully decked out as Robin for another solo patrol, had just finished trussing up a pair of would-be carjackers. As soon as he placed the anon call to the Gotham PD for pickup, he glanced up to fire his grapple gun and froze.

There, on the rooftop above him, was a familiar white shape with two sets of ears and red eyes. The "cat" was peering down. He could see the animal's long fluffy tail swishing this way and that. Tim's breath caught in his throat. This was the closest he'd ever seen the animal come to him before. Rather than risk his grapple gun startling the animal and scaring it away, the young vigilante quickly indulged in some impromptu parkour up a garbage bin and a chain link fence to reach the metal fire escape attached to the side of the building.

When he pulled himself on the rooftop, Tim was disappointed to find that it appeared to be empty. Not a trace of red eyes or white fur anywhere. He walked across the roof slowly, scanning the area for any sign of the small creature as he pulled out a small portable camera from his utility belt. "Hey there," he whispered softly. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty. I'm not going to hurt you. C'mon out please. I just wanna take a picture."

When no one came out of hiding, Tim tried a different tactic. He reached into another pouch on his belt and pulled out a small package of beef jerky. He shook the bag temptingly before opening it and setting it on the ground before stepping away from it. "Got some food here if you want. All for you."

"Thank you, but no. I'm not hungry."

Tim froze. Then he glanced around himself as quickly as he could before zeroing in on the form of the albino "cat" sitting on top of a large A/C unit just a few yards away from him, its white body practically glowing against the cloudy night sky of Gotham City. This close, Tim could see this was not a normal "cat". It did appear to have two sets of ears, but the two longer rabbit-like ones had golden rings attached to them and were tipped in pink with red spots. Its tail also appeared to be unnaturally long as it swished back and forth casually.

"Did you... just... talk?"

The cat-like creature flicked its smaller pointy ears. "Of course I did!" it said in a childlike voice without moving its mouth at all. Its long white tail finally stopped swishing and settled into a question mark shape behind it. "How else am I supposed to introduce myself?"

---

Tim Drake gave up caffeine for the rest of the week. When the boy returned to the Cave from patrol and declared that he was quitting cold turkey, Alfred asked about it curiously. All the old butler got from the thirteen year old was a confusingly vague answer about talking albino cats with pink ears and clearly not enough sleep with too much stress before marching himself into the showers before he would make his eventual way back to his bedroom.

---

Unfortunately for Tim, giving up his favorite sodas, teas, and coffee did not stop the appearances of the strange cat-like hallucination that had introduced itself as "Kyubey" and seemed hell bent on following him and talking to him both day and night, in and out of uniform.

"You think I'm a figment of your imagination?"

Tim sighed as he reached over the creature sitting in his high school locker in order to grab his workbooks for math and english. "I'm not talking to you here," he whispered as he slammed the locker door in hopes of locking the hallucination behind it.

"It's probably better that you don't, at least not out loud," Kyubey agreed, after reappearing on the top of the locker to look down on Tim. "If people catch you talking to something they can't see, they might think you're losing your mind."

Somehow, Tim managed to choke down the near hysterical giggle that wanted to bubble up at that matter-of-fact remark. Kyubey had made it quite clear that night on the rooftop that no one else could see them except Tim.

"Besides, why waste your breath?" Kyubey said as they trotted along the top of the lockers, keeping pace with Tim as he walked to his next class. "We can speak telepathically just fine."

Tim paused at the end of the lockers and glanced at Kyubey. "Telepathically?" he asked experimentally without voicing the word.

"See! Easy!"

"Oh my god, I AM losing my mind," he thought with a grimace before sighing and stepping into the classroom and tried to ignore Kyubey as best he could for the rest of his school day.

---

"So why are you here?" Tim finally asked Kyubey after tossing down his pencil and finally giving up on trying to concentrate on his homework. "What is my subconscious trying to tell me?"

"I'm not your subconscious, and I'm not a hallucination. I'm a messenger of magic."

Tim raised his eyebrows at Kyubey as he echoed incredulously, "A messenger of magic?"

The cat-like creature made themself comfortable on Tim's bed. "That's right."

The teen noted with a slight measure of concern that he could see the disturbance Kyubey's form made on his pillow and blanket, proving that, at least right now, they had a solid physical state. Still, he was not about to reach out and try to touch the creature. "I'm probably going to regret asking this, but why is a 'messenger of magic' in Gotham City, and why am I the only one who can see and speak with you?"

"I'm on a mission to find people with the potential to become Magicka Knights to fight Witches and save the Universe, and you have that potential."

"Seriously? Magical knights? Actual witches?" Tim shook his head as he scoffed lightly. "This sounds like the plot of some generic magical girl anime."

Kyubey titled their head to one side. "And you and your mentor go out at night in masks to fight criminals who can control plants, have freeze guns, are living clay, and are occasionally half reptiles. How is that more believable than Magicka Knights and Witches?"

Tim snickered awkwardly. "I guess I'm in no position to throw stones in glass houses."

"You really aren't."

---

Finally! Bruce was back from his Justice League mission and he was going to go out on patrol with Tim. Batman and Robin flying through Gotham City for the first time in over two weeks.

At least that was the plan until a call came through from Oracle barely an hour into their patrol.

"A report of potential Joker gas exposure has been put out by the GCPD in Chinatown near the Dragon's Den."

Batman and Robin paused on the roof of St. Peter's Cathedral. Tim felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach as he took in the tightness of his mentor's jawline. He knew what was coming next.

"Go home, Robin."

"But B--"

"It's the Joker. I need to handle this alone."

"You don't have to. I can stay out of the way and watch your back. Make sure no one gets the drop on you."

Batman shook his head. "Head back to the Cave, Robin."

The leather of Robin's gloves creaked a little as he clenched his hand into a fist and turned away from his mentor. "Fine."

Without even looking, Tim could tell when he was left alone on the cathedral's roof with just the gargoyles for company.

Then, he wasn't alone.

"He doesn't trust you?"

Tim looked up to see Kyubey sitting on the head of a nearby gargoyle. He sighed. "It's not like that," he said telepathically. No need to risk Oracle or Agent A overhearing him talking to Kyubey. Not like the mic would pick up the magical creature's voice anyways. Still, better safe than sorry. "The Joker is really dangerous. He killed the Robin who came before me. B just doesn't want to risk me being anywhere near him."

Suddenly, Tim heard a pinging from his comm link, a sign that Oracle was attempting to signal him. "Yes O?"

"I know B ordered you home, but do you think you could swing by Amusement Mile along the way? I got a report on a Mad Hatter sighting there."

Tim brightened visibly at the prospect. "Sure!" He reached for his grapple gun and loaded a cartridge. "Any idea what he's up to?"

"There have been earlier reports over the last few months of missing girls fitting the Hatter's preferred victim profile. Children with long blond hair under the age of twelve. But since the children are usually street kids or runaways, most attempts to investigate by the police have been half-hearted at best. Those that have tried haven't found anything but dead ends."

"Well, that's going to come to a stop tonight." Tim declared confidently.

"Be careful Robin," Oracle warned. "Focus on recon tonight. Don't engage Hatter unless absolutely necessary."

"Understood!"

---

"What's this?"

At Amusement Mile, Tim was just in time to stop a kidnapping in progress. While the sudden appearance of Robin was enough to send the Mad Hatter scurrying away into the shadows, the young vigilante reluctantly let him go in favor of caring for the victim, a child of eight or nine who appeared to be in a catatonic state.

However, nothing Tim did seemed to be able to wake her up. He was about to notify O to call an ambulance when he noticed a small red mark, like a tattoo, on the girl's neck, right above her pulse point. It was about the size of a quarter and looked like the symbol used in chess to designate the Queen piece.

"Hey O. I found a weird tattoo on the girl. Sending you a pic now." Tim quickly snapped a photo and sent it electronically to Oracle. A moment later, he got a response.

"Are you sure you sent me the right photo?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's no tattoo in the pic. All I see is a bare neck."

Tim opened the monitor of his camera and his eyes went wide. Even on the camera, the girl's neck had no tattoo. He took several more pics to be sure, but despite being able to see the crown icon with his own eyes, they defied being photographed.

"Not sure what's going on, but I can't take a pic of it," he told Oracle. "Maybe it's some sort of weird ink that comes up invisible on cameras?"

"That's not it."

Tim glanced at Kyubey, who was sitting beside the girl. The white creature sniffed at the tattoo. "That's a Witch's Kiss."

He felt his chest tighten a bit at Kyubey's words. Tim carefully masked the sudden nervousness he felt in his voice. "Can you call an ambulance to pick up the girl? I'm going to investigate the area and try to find out where Hatter ran off to."

"Will do. Be careful."

Once the comm was silenced again and after the EMTs came to pick up the rescued child, Robin backed into a secluded alleyway and hid within the shadows before addressing Kyubey telepathically.

"What's a Witch's Kiss?"

"It's a mark used by Witches and familiars to control the minds of their prey."

Tim felt a shiver run down his spine. Still he continued. "Is... the Mad Hatter a Witch?"

Kyubey tilted their head thoughtfully before shaking in the negative. "No. I think he's just a familiar being used to bring humans to a Witch's Labyrinth."

"Why? Why would a Witch want a human child?"

Kyubey sighed. "A Witch is a creature that feeds on misery and sadness," they said very matter-of-factly. "What could be more delicious to a Witch than the grief and fear of a kidnapped child? At least this one seems to prefer the despair of children in particular."

A sudden sensation of dread settled over Tim. "That's.... That's horrible! We can't let this continue!"

"But you can't stop them."

"Why not?" Tim's righteous indignation flared up. "Batman's stopped the Mad Hatter dozens of times. Why can't I?"

"Most likely it's because your mentor has never captured him near his Witch, and never within an actual Labyrinth." Kyubey stared at Tim with their round red eyes, their stoic tone never wavering. "You're just a human being, and so is he under all that armor. Even with all your training, there's no way your frail human bodies can endure the strain of fighting a Witch and their familiars in their own Labyrinth. If you get trapped in a Labyrinth, there's no way out until either the Witch is dead or you are."

Tim watched the retreating lights of the ambulance carrying the nearly kidnapped child away. Then he took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"Can you help me find the Witch's Labyrinth?"

"I can."

---

He was going to die.

Tim leaned against the wall and watched helplessly as his blood flowed freely from beneath and between his fingers to pool on the floor under him despite the pressure he tried to keep on the wound in his stomach. The Witch's familiars, not just the Mad Hatter, but a March Hare and other fictional characters pulled straight from the story Alice in Wonderland, had been too numerous and too merciless for him to fight off alone.

The Witch herself, in the guise of a twisted Queen of Hearts, shrieked for his head through the twists and turns of her Labyrinth.

͙̹̫ͪ̆̏͝ "̶͚̜̪̣̬͇ͭ͑ͅOͩͫ̄͏̬͖̳ Ḟ̖̝̟̜͖̭͑͢ F̡̜̼̰͓͍̟͎͇̆̾̐ ̨͚̫̗ͮ̚ͅ W̐ͧ̑͏͍͎͍̖̤̥ͅI͓͙̤͔̺̦͌̓̌̍͠T̖͍͒͛͢H̡̳̪̭̹̺̒̓̿ ̹̥͉̟͙̝͓̅ͫ͝H̸̝̬̘͕̩͙̤͇̾ͥ͂Į̯͔̦͖̳̣ͥ̌͆̂S͆̑ͪ͏̦̥̭̺̞̳̪͔ ͙̪̯͗̑͞Hͧ͏̤̯̪̩ E̶̯̣̰͌̆ͨͯ A̬̦̻͍͒͝ͅD̖̹͂͒͟ !ͫͯ́͆҉̺̦̩̹̺

̠͓͈͎ͧͨ͡Ō̵̪̻̭̩̯F̣͙̲̖̈́̋͝ F̌̅̾̓͏̭̺̰͉̹̖̯ ̡̮͔͇͚̬͎̝͊̆ͪͅŴ͙̠̽ I̘̬͇̖͑͂̏̂͞ T̨̗̫̜͙̩̖̮͒ H̴̙̝̀ͥͣ̚ ̘̯̮̺̥ͣ̑̄H̻̭͇̮̮͕͗͗ͬ̊͠ͅ Iͮͪ͋͏̬̺̖̝̥̭̘ͅ S̵̝̖̙̿ ̛̬̳̠̪̰̑͗̽ H̸͙̟̱̝̳̰̄͑̃̊ Ě̳͓̝̗͎͟ A̴̤͖̬̖͓͇̖͗̆ͫ́Ḋ̜͚̬̐̋͟!̨͇͚̞̩͚̗̣̿

Ơ͚̹̜̥ͮͥ͑̏F̴̯̤̮͉̰ͫF͈̱͍̌ͩͥ̍̕ͅ ̧͎͕̱͚͍̥͔̐W̩̦̯̹̏͊̏̌̕I͐҉͕̪͔̥̞̭͈̲T̖̝̖̪̑̿̓͢H̤̠͍̣̻̠͚ͧ̍̐̿͢ ̴̲̖̫̫̺ͭH̗̤̒̆͆͡Î̤͓̭̻̝Ș̵͉͔͙̗̝̌̍̍ͬͅ ͎̫͉̞̲͆͡Ḫ̨̪̅ͧ̏E̵̮̲̩̤͓̱̙ͦÁ̻̦̘̜̂ͩ͝D̸̯͖̦͔̲͕̠̜̓̓̆̚!̨͖̓̐̈́ͪ̏ͅ҉̬͉̰̫"̙̺̬̯̹̦͖͛͗͘

Her magic.. too powerful.

His… everything... too weak.

Trapped in this magical Labyrinth that resembled a scene from Wonderland, he couldn't even get a signal out to call for a rescue. He'd tried early on to call Oracle... Nightwing... Agent A... Batman... But the only thing he got for his troubles was static.

Tim felt tears flow down his cheeks as his vision became dark and hazy around the edges and his limbs began to grow numb. He could hear the sounds of his pursuers coming closer, searching for him, and he just didn't have the strength anymore to run. All he could do was hide and wait for the inevitable.

Batman was going to lose another Robin.

Dick was going to lose another little brother.

Jack Drake was going to lose his only son.

He was going to die.

"Oh dear. I was almost too late."

A set of dainty white paws walked into his sight line, contrasting starkly against the pool of crimson blood on the floor. Weakly, Tim lifted his gaze.

"Kyubey?"

The magical creature stepped closer to the fallen teenager and took a seat in front of him. They tilted their head slightly. "I tried to warn you. A normal human isn't able to fight a Witch. Only a Magicka Knight has the power to defend against a Witch's curses and attack them in kind."

"I know," Tim whispered. "I should've listened to you."

Kyubey titled their head to the other side. "It's not too late. You can still listen to me."

Despite the cold feeling in his limbs and the shadows in his vision, Tim did his level best to keep his gaze locked on Kyubey, on the one bright spot in his dying world.

"If you enter a contract with me, you can become a Magicka Knight." Kyubey explained. "You'd be duty bound to fight Witches, but in return I can grant you one wish. Anything in the world your heart desires."

"If I become a Magicka Knight, I'll have to fight this Witch right away, right?"

"I'm afraid so. It's the only way to escape her Labyrinth."

"And there's no guarantee I'll win?"

"I won't lie to you. Turning you into a Magicka Knight is not a promise of victory. But at least you'll have a fighting chance."

Tim closed his eyes and smiled sadly. "Then I want to make a wish that can outlive me, in case I die." When he opened his eyes, tears slipped down his cheeks again. "I wish Bruce Wayne's son, Jason Todd, was alive."

Kyubey's round red eyes seemed to shimmer in the darkness, and the twin gold rings that encircled their longer set of ears started to glow brightly even as Tim's vision finally faded into blackness. As his consciousness slipped away, he heard Kyubey's voice, as if it was very far away.

"As you wish."

---

"Dinner was great, Alfred. Thank you." Tim set down his fork and watched as the kind old butler retrieved his dirty dishes.

"Will you be heading out with Master Bruce this evening?"

Tim got to his feet and placed the cloth napkin that had been on his lap onto the table, though he fidgeted with it a little before finally letting it go. "'Fraid not. B wants me to stay in and 'do my homework'."

Alfred gave him a knowing compassionate look. "I see. Well, if you want to take your dessert upstairs to have while you work on your homework, I'll allow it for tonight. If you need anything else, I'll be in the Cave on comms tonight..

"Thanks Alfred," Tim said with a smile and a quick side-hug. "You're the best!"

Tim made his way upstairs with a small plate of cheesecake topped with strawberries. Once in his bedroom, he closed the door behind him with a sigh.

"Bruce isn't letting you patrol again tonight?"

The teenager glanced over and watched as Kyubey unwound itself from the fluffy white ball it normally curled into while it napped on Tim's pillow. Tim couldn't help the fond smile as his little friend stretched leisurely and indulged in a wide mouthed yawn.

"Nope. He's still got his cape in a twist over Jason's whole empty grave thing." Tim shook his head before making his way to the window seat and making himself comfortable. "I think he just wants to make sure I don't wander off either, but it's still annoying! It's been nearly a month and B still won't let me go on any solo patrols."

"Well, look at the bright side. Now you can get a full night of sleep and wake up early to go Witch hunting before school."

"I suppose."

Tim and his sullen mood weren't alone for long at the window before Kyubey leapt gracefully from the bed to his shoulder. The startled expression on Tim's face lasted only a second before it melted into one of amusement as Kyubey headbutted him affectionately against the cheek. Once they'd managed to wring a chuckle out of the boy, Kyubey hopped down to the window seat where Tim had placed the cheesecake and began sniffing at the selection. Tim watched as his friend picked up the reddest strawberry it could find and popped that into its mouth first, eating it with obvious relish. Then he looked out the window and thought back about the night he became a Magicka Knight, about the moment he set foot back in the cave after defeating his first Witch and claiming his first Grief Seed.

---

"Where have you been?!"

Batman had stormed up to him the moment Robin pulled up on his motorcycle into the Cave. Tim froze the moment he saw his mentor barrelling toward him. "You're back already?"

"The Joker gas was a false alarm," Bruce said as he pushed back his cowl and grabbed Tim by his upper arms, Tim was startled by the frantic way Bruce's eyes were darting over him. "Where were you?! Barbara sent you to investigate a Hatter sighting, then you didn't check in for hours! It's nearly sunrise. Where have you been?!"

Tim swallowed hard. "I... I got lured into a maze trap by Hatter," he admitted quietly. "The place had some weird interference so my comms were scrambled. Hatter got away and it took me forever to find my way out. I'm sorry."

"Are you hurt?"

Tim shook his head. "I'm fine B. Just... tired. It... was a really long night."

After another long moment of Bruce looking over him, the older man finally seemed to relax. He released his hold on Tim's arms and raked his fingers through his cowl-mussed hair. "Please don't go running off like that ever again, Tim. If anything had happened to you--"

"I know," Tim murmured, his eyes focused on the floor even as he wrapped his arms about himself tightly. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Master Bruce?"

Both Bruce and TIm turned to see a shaken Alfred coming toward them with a phone in hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Commissioner Gordon is on the line."

Bruce and Tim shared a confused look. "Why is he calling at this hour?"

Alfred swallowed hard. "He needs 'Bruce Wayne' to come to the precinct as soon as possible. There's been a robbery."

"I don't under--"

"Someone broke into Gotham Cemetery tonight. They stole Master Jason's body."

As Bruce immediately went after Alfred as the old man gave him the phone, Tim stood in the Cave in shock before daring to glance at Kyubey, who had materialized at his heels.

"My wish... It really came true?"

Kyubey curled their tail around Tim's legs in a comforting gesture. "Of course it did. We made a contract."

---

"I wonder where Jason is," Tim mused aloud as he continued to stare out the window. "I thought he would've come straight home. Bruce has looked everywhere. I've looked everywhere..." He looked at Kyubey who had taken a delicate bite of the cheesecake itself. "Do you have any idea where he went after I made my wish?"

Kyubey looked up at Tim, a curious tilt to their head as they stared back at him with their round red eyes. "I was with you in the Labyrinth when the wish was made," they said matter-of-factly.

Tim shrugged. "Yeah. I know... I guess I was just hoping... Well, I hope he's alright, wherever he is."

Quietly, Tim studied the new silver ring encircling the ring finger of his right hand as well as the green alchemical symbol of Mercury that was now on his fingernail. The small emerald gem inlaid within the ring itself shimmered with magic. With a smooth motion, Tim turned his palm up and the ring morphed before his eyes into a brilliant green gem encased in an intricate cage of gold, just like a faberge egg.

His Soul Gem. The source of his power as a Magicka Knight.

For several minutes there was nothing but a comfortable silence as Tim watched the swirling glow of his Soul Gem and Kyubey ate their fill. Once the plate was empty and their paws and muzzle were thoroughly cleaned, Kyubey trotted onto Tim's lap and laid down comfortably. Unconsciously, Tim began to stroke Kyubey's soft whilte fur with his free hand.

"I just hope Jason comes home soon," Tim said as he finally put his Soul Gem away, turning it back into his ring. "That way, he and Bruce can reunite, they can be a family again, and I can step away from being Robin so I can devote myself to being a Magicka Knight instead."

"In the meantime, it's not so bad for you to be both Robin and a Magicka Knight," Kyubey mused. When Tim glanced down at them, they continued. "You have to admit that nearly every night you go out on patrol as Robin, you stumble upon one or two Labyrinths. Even if we can't get to them immediately to flush out the Witch, at least we know where they are for later!"

Tim grinned. "Yeah. I guess there is a silver lining there." Impulsively, he picked up Kyubey and gathered them into a gentle hug. "Thanks for staying with me."

Kyubey nuzzled the underside of Tim's jawline. "Of course I'm staying with you. You're my Magicka Knight. We're in this together." Kyubey flicked their short pointy ears cutely. "Besides, it's not like Bruce or anyone else can separate us. You're the only one here that can see and hear me."

"I'm glad," Tim said. "It's nice to not be alone all the time." He smiled gratefully at Kyubey. "And it makes being grounded by Bruce easier to swallow when I've got you for company."

Then he glanced back out the window at the dark outlines of Gotham City's skyline when the appearance of the Bat-signal lit up the night sky above it. "Still--" he mused. "I really hope Jason shows up soon. I can't wait to meet him."

#au: kcmk #kyubey cursed magicka knights AU #fanfiction #crossover/fusion #pmmm au #dcu au #tim drake #kyubey #batfamily #batfam #batfam fanfic

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merryfortune · 3 years

Text

You give me flowers of love

Written for 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt #39 - Pink

Ship: Nodoka/Hinata

Fandom: Healin’ Good PreCure

Word Count: 3,757

Rating: M

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

AN: title comes from Bloodflowers by The Cure and is recommended listening for this fic.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Hanahaki, Horror, Gore, Emetophobia/Emetophilia, Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Past/Referenced Eriko/Hinata, Minor Blood

Hinata was not the type of girl who could handle horror stories, urban legends, or anything spookier than a rom-com set against the background of a popular coffee shop. However, there was something about this creepypasta that caught her attention. Maybe she read it to prove that she wasn’t a scaredy-cat or maybe she read it because something about it was almost too real.

It came across her Curestagram feed, screenshots reposted from another site with long form text functions rather than the optimized for photos aesthetic of Curestagram. It wasn’t late at night, quite the opposite, Hinata had just been scrolling as she was half nibbling on a banana muffin for morning tea. So she was kind of bored and not already unsettled by a vague anxiety sort of mindset so she stopped her scroll to read this totally true story from a friend of a friend that had happened upon her timeline.

The story involved a sickness. A lovesickness, hooking Hinata immediately since she was a hopeless romantic and leaving her vulnerable to what was hiding down below a few paragraphs after and Hinata realised she was reading a surreal medical horror story.

Supposedly, some girl from a high school in the next town over had been hospitalized due to damage to her stomach and esophagus but ultimately culminated in her passing away from brain damage due to suffocation. The suffocation that was the outcome of the damage she had taken to her stomach and esophagus had, supposedly, been caused by the growing of flowers inside of her. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They were baffled by the impossibility of it. Yet where they failed to posit theories at all, their patient had her own she desperately desired to reveal.

The nameless girl, as weak as she was in her final moments of speech and cognition, was certain with the most crystal clear clarity that she could muster said that reason for the flowers growing inside of her was due to a crush that she had been fostering for quite some time. A crush that was so powerful and deep that it had manifested as literal and impossible distress in the form of tiger lily flowers. Though her claims were dismissed as nonsense, despite the very given evidence that she had been vomiting exotic flowers, except by the narrator who was sharing her story online on her behalf.

Hinata got to the bottom line of the final screenshot and she dropped her phone on the table. She shivered and flinched as her phone clattered. Nyatoran looked up, alarmed, from the milk that he had been sipping.

“Heh? Are you okay Hinata?” he asked.

“Y-Yeah, I just lost my grip.” Hinata replied. It wasn’t a lie.

“Really? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Nyatoran pointed out.

Hinata made an expression that was both guilty and embarrassed, “Er, sort of… I read a ghost story online and I haven’t the stomach for them.”

“Oh, well, no worries then. I’ll keep ya safe from all the ghoulies then.” Nyatoran boasted.

Hinata laughed, “Thanks, Nyatoran.” she replied.

And that was more or less enough to keep her mind off what she had read for the rest of the day as she did her Sunday homework and such. At least until well after lights out.

Hinata cursed herself. She knew endless walls of text in screenshots never bore good news but it was under her skin now. It wasn’t even that scary, she tried to convince herself. It just so happened to play off something she had been thinking about in ways that cut deep and yes, even scary.

Hinata had a crush of her own. One she didn’t think she ought to act on. Or didn’t know how to act on.

Hinata had a crush on Nodoka. She was sweet and gentle yet so motivated. Hinata felt like she learned something new about either herself or Nodoka after every time they hung out. Things never felt old between them despite how natural their companionship was between them.

Catching feelings for Nodoka was inevitable, Hinata felt regarding their dynamic as close friends and their friendship was relatively intense due to their bond as comrades being Pretty Cures but that made Hinata sick to her stomach with fear. This wasn’t her first crush that she had on another girl.

In the not so recent past, Hinata had been wrong reading other girls’ opinions and feelings regarding her before. She and Eriko had been so close, childhood friends with a pact that seemed fit to stand the test of time when they had made it, and Hinata didn’t think it was a coincidence that already scarce contact between them after Eriko moved was when Hinata had confessed her feelings to Eriko.

The rejection had been crushing and Hinata had never told a soul about it. The wound was older now but it still hurt so, as lovely as Nodoka was, Hinata didn’t want to gamble their friendship due to that prior rejection. Yet her feelings crackled like electricity near a lightning rod whenever she was around Nodoka anyway. She could only hope that Nodoka was oblivious since she was so inexperienced socially due to her childhood spent mostly in the hospital.

(And that Chiyu never brought up the blatantly obvious which she would hopefully never do since she knew there was a place and a time and it wasn’t her place).

Thus, for all these different and entangling reasons, that horror story Hinata had read this morning really resonated. The thought of her unrequited feelings becoming literal, even in the form of pretty and seemingly harmless flowers, and suffocating. It was a very real fear to Hinata despite that fantastical execution that it was captured inside.

All because she was a magical girl infused with the power of light and thunder. She fought villains who caused infections in nature and created monsters. To her, it didn’t seem too far outside of her sphere of tried and true reality that such a floral disease of the body could exist. Heck, maybe it did exist and was tied to the war that she and her friends were fighting in secret on behalf of the Healing Animals. It was entirely possible this flower vomit disease was another agent or power of the Byougens.

Hinata groaned and the more she scolded herself for thinking about these horrible possibilities, the more she thought about them. She tossed and turned all night, in the dark and under the covers of her doona. She knew Nyatoran would live up to his boasting over morning tea if she asked but he was totally conked out in his little room. Hinata couldn’t bring herself to wake him, to unnecessarily burden him, so she just hid from her fears as best as she could in her blankets.

The following morning, Hinata was a wreck. She had bags under her eyes and was generally a drag. She hasn’t slept a wink last night but just like she was hiding from the horror story in her head, she decided to hide from the aftermath too. She touched up her eyes with concealer and finished off her make-up with a nice little kiss of lip balm, too. She chose a nice tropical flavour: pineapple with vanilla undertones and wore nude in practice. With that, she was ready for what was no doubt going to be a long, long day of school.

A prediction that she was very right in having. Just making it to lunch felt like an eternity and a half on low energy. Worst still, despite the precautions that Hinata had taken, both Chiyu and Nodoka had noticed that she wasn’t exactly her bouncy self today. Even with her favourite lunch box in her lap with fried chicken and a fruit drink, too.

“Are you okay, Hinata?” Nodoka asked and she batted her long eyelashes in concern.

Hinata knew she couldn’t lie or deflect around Nodoka, at least for the most part, and deflated, “No…” she moaned. “I slept awfully last night.”

“I expect that it wasn’t due to over studying?” Chiyu asked, sniping.

“No, I just. Couldn’t sleep.” Hinata shrugged.

“Well, be sure to put yourself early to bed tonight then. There’s nothing worse than being tired.” Nodoka said.

“Will do.” Hinata sighed.

“Also?” Nodoka prompted her.

“Yeah?” Hinata glanced at Nodoka was she tried a spoonful of rice from her side dishes.

“Your lip balm has a very strong smell today, I can smell it from here.” Nodoka laughed.

“Oh, joy…” Hinata hung her head in misery. She didn’t think it was so pungent in the tube.

“I didn’t mean that in a mean way.” Nodoka panicked whilst Chiyu had a discrete giggle at Hinata’s misfortune. “I really like it. I think it smells nice. Like cherries. I love the smell of cherries best.”

“Huh?” Hinata mumbled and she stared straight at Nodoka in confusion.

Nodoka stared back. Also in confusion. “Is something the matter?”

“Er, no,” Hinata awkwardly began and she forced herself to laugh and she flapped a hand about too to disguise her weirdness, “I must have been so tired this morning that I though I used one lip balm and instead used another.”

“That is a little odd…” Chiyu murmured.

But Nodoka seemed to buy it, she gasped, “Fwow, you must have been really tired this morning to make such a mistake. Promise me to get a good night’s rest tonight then.” Nodoka fussed for her.

“I promise, I promise.” Hinata replied.

Just as Hinata spoke, the end of lunch bell rang. She moaned with the utmost misery as she hadn’t finished her lunch even slightly and roused much sympathy from both Nodoka and Chiyu. So, Hinata crammed what she could into her mouth and swallowed before returning with her friends indoors to their classroom.

She plopped down in her chair and desk, her stomach growling almost immediately. Were it not for the teacher at the front of the classroom, Hinata would have flopped down and keeled over right there and then. She would have killed for a nap. Not even a luxurious nanna nap at this point, she would take a horrid power nap. Anything would have been better than nothing. Instead, the best she could muster was some daydreaming whilst scribbling in her work book so she could at least pretend to be paying attention.

Her mind strayed to Nodoka. She couldn’t help it. A silly little pining schoolgirl was exactly what she was after all. She doodled Nodoka’s name in her margins, surrounded with love-hearts, paw prints, and even flowers. It was a little bit childish but Hinata was a lot childish so she didn’t mind, she was more or less on cloud nine since Nodoka had shown her care for her over lunch, fussing for her like that.

It was such a small act but it was more than enough to launch Hinata’s heart in a million miles an hour race. So much so, she began to taste something at the back of her throat. It was a sweet taste accompanied by a fizzy sensation. Hinata liked it and it seemed to get stronger the more she daydreamed about Nodoka. Even though it was the middle of class, Hinata was letting her mind completely run away from the contents of what the teacher was attempting to educate on them.

Finally, after what felt like a day of self torment because of reading some stupid horror story about puking flowers, Hinata felt free of that gnawing anxiety. But just as she revelled in this, her stomach wretched. She dry gagged with the searing taste of bile at the back of her throat and her hand automatically clamped over her mouth, pen and all. The prior anxiety might have dissipated but a new one had spiked in its place.

Hinata frowned. Was it because she hadn’t eaten all her lunch that she suddenly felt nauseous? Or was it something else? She begged that it wasn’t her period, she was still quite irregular so this felt off or early to her.

Then she gagged again. She swallowed it back down. Hard. Whatever she swallowed was thick and sweet. It wasn’t vomit, Hinata had the startling realisation. She tried hard to keep it down but she failed. She vomited into her hand, or at least something similar. The motions were awful, worse than anything else she had ever had to eject from her body orally before.

Hinata felt sick to the very bottom of her stomach. Her hands shook as she slowly removed the one over her mouth and… and she couldn’t believe her eyes. They widened in shock as she saw the head of a flower in the palm of her hand. It was a cherry blossom, she realised. The pale pink petals were frayed at the edges, burnt by stomach acid and wet with her saliva; the anthers of its centre drooped and dragged, splayed across the petals. Her skin crawled as she marveled at the insane gravity of the situation. She quickly paled.

And the teacher noticed, “Hiramitsu, are you okay?” he asked from in front of the chalkboard, looking up concerned from the book he was reciting from.

“I-I, um, I need to go. To the nurse.” Hinata eked out her words with strained difficulty.

Her stomach flipped and she could feel another one coming up. It slithered up her throat and she hated the slow, dreadful sensation of it, the way it made her mouth taste of bile and cherries in horrible combination. Hinata bolted to her feet, afraid, alarming the whole class. She hid her mouth behind her hand again, holding tight that first flower that she had vomited.

“I need to go.” Hinata mumbled and she fled.

The feeling of her classmates' eyes on her felt like broken glass digging. She knew, deep down, they didn’t mean harm but their gazes only served to amplify the terror she felt as she fled. She was fast at first, escaping from the classroom but her stomach lurched and she vomited another flower and then again but two at once this time.

Hinata stopped in the hallway, she had to rest her shoulder against the wall just to stand as she looked down into the palm of her hand. The flowers were accumulating against her skin, wet and heavy, and accelerating in pace of production. Already she felt another lurch and this one was dire, Hinata didn’t think she would be so lucky to only vomit one or two this next time.

She had to get to the sick bay. She wasn’t sure what she would do there but anything had to be better than nothing, so she hobbled on in immense pain. By nothing less than a miracle, Hinata managed to get to the nurse’s suite without collapsing. Or with leaving too many flowers in her meagre wake.

The school nurse panicked almost immediately when she saw Hinata in this state. Hinata sputtered out a thank you whilst she was put to bed. Hinata curled up under the sheets, her stomach lurching and mangled petals dripped out of her mouth. She had to hide her ailment from the nurse. She just had to. She didn’t know how to explain it or anything else pertaining to it but fortunately, the nurse bought her some time by going to use administration’s phone to let her father know that Hinata was in immediate medical distress.

Hinata held her scrawny belly with one hand and her mouth the other. No matter how hard she tried, these flowers kept dredging up from inside of her and it was worsening. There was distention building inside of her, it was as if she could feel the bushels of cherry blossom flowers forming inside of her and something else too. It was raw and firm and poking up through her like a stick. Hinata moaned in utter agony as she tasted not just sweetness and bile in her mouth, but the cutting, metallic taste of blood too.

She whimpered as she tried to swallow it down. Attempting so, just made the nicks and cuts to her throat worsen and the petals to clog. Her lungs ached sharply as she struggled to breathe. Her eyes squeezed tight and she begged every deity she could think of for a saviour.

The door to the sick bay opened again. Hinata murmured to herself and the curtain was pulled aside, “Hinata?” a sweet voice greeted her.

“Huh?” Hinata slurred.

She rolled over, still holding herself but even a simple and slow motion like that was enough to rouse her illness violently. Her grimace was deep on her face as she tried to look at Nodoka, even feebly.

“A-Are you okay, Hinata?” she asked. “I couldn’t sit by and worry when I saw you ill you were, what’s wrong?”

Hinata opened her mouth. Mostly to reply, but that’s not what happened. She threw up in front of Nodoka and Nodoka couldn’t believe her eyes. Hinata was throwing up bushels upon bushels of flowers. Cherry blossoms. Nodoka blinked. She couldn’t believe the sights - or the smell. The smell was disconcerting with how almost pleasantly fragrant it was, heightening Nodoka’s realisation that this wasn’t Hinata pulling pranks.

“H-How on Earth did this happen…?” Nodoka asked.

She was horrified yet found herself unable to resist the impulse. She picked a blossom out of the pile that Hinata had vomited up. It was soft in her hand, even if it was grotesquely wet.

“I - I don’t-” Hinata tried to speak but she cut herself off when she felt something jut out of her mouth. An entire branch of cherry blossoms began to spike out of her mouth.

Her eyes began to roll back on themselves as Nodoka watched, in abject and frozen horror, as Hinata contended with this stick inside of her. It emerged slowly from the depths of her throat and made her chest convulse. Her fingers spasmed as she choked around it, flowers blooming along the thin and coarse branch.

“H-Help me.” Hinata sputtered out.

Nodoka nodded. She was scared, her heart was pounding, but she was first and foremost a helper of most empathetic ends. She had been on the receiving end of a strange and bizarre illness that had rendered most her childhood for naught. She couldn’t just let Hinata struggle. Suffocate.

So, she got onto the bed with Hinata. She straddled her so she could best approach the foreign object inside of Hinata. She focused her eyes and was as ready as she could ever be for an amateur operation quite like this one. Nodoka reached out and pinched the end of the branch delicately. It was entirely unsafe, Nodoka knew that, but she began to pull. She peered into Hinata’s pink mouth was clogged with twigs and petals, and tried her best to dislodge what she could.

Hinata gagged. Tears in her eyes and she plead, silently and afraid, that Nodoka could handle this. Nodoka’s hands shook but she did, in fact, manage. She tried her hardest and she did succeed even if it felt pyrrhic as Hinata screamed out as the last, and thickest, part of the cherry blossom branch was removed.

Nodoka flinched hearing the scream, dropping the cherry blossom branch between them. Hinata spat out blood and petals but the cherry blossom branch had been removed. She caressed her neck and it was raw with what it had been through. Her touches did little to soothe or quell her pain, she looked up at Nodoka with pathetic, red rimmed eyes.

“What was that?” Nodoka asked, her heart quaking. “How could any of this be possibly real?”

“I - I don’t know.” Hinata mumbled but that was a lie. She choked on her words all the same as she had choked on those cherry blossoms. Her hands squeezed tight. “No. I’m sorry. I do know.”

“Pardon?” Nodoka quietly exclaimed.

“There’s a very rare disease,” Hinata began, hasty, “that causes flowers to grow inside of someone suffering with a crush that they just can’t handle.”

“That’s horrible…” Nodoka murmured.

It was now or never, Hinata realised. Or she was going to end up exactly like the girl from the story that she had read yesterday. She knew it. She just knew it.

“Nodoka, it’s you.” Hinata confessed, half a sob in her voice. “I’m crushing on you.”

Nodoka was stunned by Hinata’s admission.

Hinata panted, her face was going bright red whilst her heart pounded like a hammer at her rib cage. She couldn’t believe it. She had done it. But it felt like a weight off, she had to admit, she didn’t realise her crush had been such a burden until right now. She felt herself lighten with the confession, from the very pit of her stomach, upwards and outwards.

Nodoka averted her gaze and Hinata was reminded once more why a crush was called a crush. That borderline feel good feeling from before popped. Burst. Nodoka played with her hair, fidgeting, and then managed to speak in a very calm and very quiet voice.

“I have a crush on you, too, Hinata.” Nodoka replied. “I admire so much how you sparkle and shine. It’s very refreshing to be around. I like you too. A lot.”

Nodoka reached out to Hinata’s hand and held it. She was so warm and she was still trembling but Nodoka’s caress of it did soothe her. Hinata hazarded a smile, like she couldn’t believe her ears, through her scarlet expression. Nodoka leaned in and kissed Hinata.

Hinata was unable to kiss back, afraid of her own breath but Nodoka didn’t mind. It was pungent with cherry blossoms and wet but she found the kiss sufficiently sweet, kissing Hinata’s soft, balmy lips. They were tinged with pineapple and vanilla beneath that overwhelming sensation of cherry blossoms.

“Thank you, Nodoka…” Hinata murmured and somehow, she didn’t know or understand how but she wasn’t going to complain, she was cured, prettily, of her affliction.

The cherry blossom flowers on the bed or in her gut, disappeared. All with seemingly little aplomb. Even the branch that had to have been removed from her throat, all with a soft, fizzling noise that Hinata could hardly hear over the sound of her pounding heart. She still had the cuts and scrapes, but she was no longer growing flowers inside of her stomach. Hinata was cured and Nodoka was her blessed, angelic cure.

#100ships challenge #femslash #nodohina #healin good precure #healin good #precure #nodoka hanadera #hanadera nodoka #cure grace #cure sparkle #hiramitsu hinata #hinata hiramitsu #writing tag #i really like this fic so i hope you guys enjoy

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vindicatedvirgil · 4 years

Text

soulmate september / day ten: birthmark

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Day Ten: You are born with a birthmark, similar to a tattoo, that is shared by your soulmate.

Summary: Virgil’s fairly certain that he’ll never meet his soulmate. But when his also soulmate-less bestie Patton finally finds his other half, Virgil is suddenly that much closer to finding his own destiny.

Ship: Dukexiety (Remus x Virgil)

word count: 878

CW: Remus is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns. Background Royality.

@tsshipmonth2020

---

Virgil didn’t like to look at the birthmark on his wrist; it was a reminder of what he didn’t yet have and was thoroughly convinced that he’d never get to experience. He was about to turn 30 and had yet to meet the person with a matching birthmark. Maybe they’d died as a teen, maybe they were from a different country. Regardless, as Virgil watched his best friends find their soulmates and get married and begin their lives together, he receded farther into himself, wearing long sleeves or applying concealer to mask the mark on his wrist.

One night on his way home from work, he stopped into a bar to meet with Patton, who also hadn’t met his soulmate. Except when Virgil neared their usual booth, Patton was sitting next to a man who vaguely resembled a famous actor. Virgil slid into his spot, waiting for Patton’s explanation.

“I met my soulmate, Virge!” He exclaimed happily, leaning his head on the man’s shoulder. “This is Roman Prince.” Virgil blinked.

“The Roman Prince?” He asked, staring at the man. Roman shrugged, holding out his hand. Virgil shook it once. “How did… you find each other?”

“I was watching an interview with Roman and noticed his birthmark, so I reached out to his agent, sending a picture of my own. He called the next day,” Patton reminisced, eyes sparkling with happiness. Virgil smiled weakly.

“I’m so happy for you, Pat. You deserve this,” he said, and Patton reached his hand out gently to rub Virgil’s arm.

“You’ll find your soulmate someday, Virge. I know it,” he said comfortingly, and Virgil just nodded.

“It takes some time for people. My twin hasn’t met their soulmate yet either. They sometimes want to get the thing surgically removed, but no surgeon will do it. They’re really tired of looking at the octopus,” Roman said, which made Virgil’s eyes snap up to meet his.

“What?” Virgil’s voice squeaked out, and Roman raised an eyebrow at him. “An octopus?” He was tempted to pull the sleeve of his favorite hoodie up, but it had to be a coincidence. There could be no logical explanation to this, at least not in Virgil’s mind. Roman’s eyes focused on the spot where Virgil toyed with the edge of his sleeves.

“It looks part octopus, part storm cloud. An odd thing, really,” he said. “I think I have a photo of it if you want to see it…” Virgil wanted to scream and say no and run out of the bar and never look back. But he knew that he needed to see this. He needed to know. So he nodded, and Roman pulled his phone out of his pocket, and opened up a photo.

It was of a person with curly brown hair that had a gray streak in the bangs, a mustache, and an… interesting outfit of a black leather jacket, army green crop top, and a leather skirt, with fishnet stockings and combat boots. The sleeves of their jacket were rolled up, and there, on their wrist, was a birthmark matching the one that Virgil had memorized at the age of four.

“Where are they right now?” Virgil breathed out, and a look of excitement covered both Roman and Patton’s features.

“They’re at the hotel a few blocks over, I’ll call them to come here.”

“Don’t tell them why. Not yet.”

And then Virgil was sitting beside Remus, who was dressed similarly to how they were in the photo, except their curly hair was pulled into a bun and they were wearing a purple crop top under their leather jacket.

“Didn’t wanna be a third wheel, eh?” They smirked, bringing their mug of beer to their lips. “I’ve been a third wheel in that hotel room with those two. It’s like they’ve been virgins their whole lives, waiting for each other.”

“You haven’t waited for your soulmate?” Patton squeaked out, his hand holding Roman’s tightly. He exchanged a nervous glance with Virgil, who shrugged.

“I have, but I don’t think I’ll be that way with my soulmate. Unless they’re someone really hot,” Remus responded. “So, Virgil, you haven’t met your soulmate yet either, huh?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so,” Virgil toyed with the sleeve of his hoodie, then pulled it up to his elbow. Remus’ jaw dropped and they grabbed Virgil’s wrist, inspecting it. “Or maybe I have.”

“Oh my god, it’s you,” Remus’ voice was quieter than it had been before, and they slid the sleeve of their jacket up, too. “You’re my soulmate.”

“I guess so,” Virgil shrugged, but he smiled faintly, meeting Remus’ bright green eyes. “I’m glad that no one would surgically remove it for you.” Remus glared at Roman but smiled, scooting closer to Virgil.

“Can I kiss you?” Remus whispered, and Virgil only nodded, feeling smooth fingers grab his chin, a pair of chapped lips meeting his own, as if both of them had imagined this moment for their whole lives. It was perfect.

When Virgil celebrated his 30th birthday a few months later, he no longer had fears about the rest of his life. He had his soulmate, and if he had to wait another thirty years to find Remus, he would have been glad to wait.

138 notes · View notes

wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Text

Warriors in Red Armor

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Chapter Five

Kai II

"Does everyone understand the mission?" Ransom stared hard in Kai's direction.

Kai scoffed. Just because her attention had drifted off a time or four didn't mean that she was going to be totally lost. "Who needs a debriefing? We're going to do the same thing we always do. I'm going to flirt with everyone until they give me information or get distracted. Ark will slice into their systems and get hard copies of the information we need. You'll be here, masterminding the whole thing."

Ransom stared at her hard for a moment, but Kai met her gaze with ease. Eventually, Ransom gave a little sigh and said, "Yeah, that's pretty much it. But be careful. We've got to get this job right. The merchant's guild has paid us a lot of credits for the information we need. Plus we stand to double our profit if we complete the mission on time. Maybe we should go over the plan again."

"Nah, I've got it," Kai assured her.

Ransom's eyes were like a med-scanner as she used her gift. Kai had always said that Ransom could spot a lie from five klicks with strangers and twice that with friends. Eventually, Ransom must have decided that Kai was telling the truth and nodded. "Fine, but be careful. Are you sure these layout schematics are up-to-date?"

"I'm insulted," Kai jokingly scowled. "Are my schematics ever outdated?"

"No," Ransom begrudgingly admitted. "Even I don't know how you find some of that information."

Kai beamed at the rare praise from her boss.

"You know," Ark started. Kai tensed - there was only one subject that could put that tone in Ark's voice. "We could really use you out in the field on this one, Ransom."

In half a heartbeat, Ransom was as on-edge as both of the other women. "You know that's not an option, Ark." She gave a forced-looking smile and shook her head. "Besides, you don't need me. You're both the best in your respective fields. This mission will be a total success."

The drastic change in mission outlook warned Kai that Ransom was ready to snap. All antics should be cut off immediately.

"Ark and I better go get ready, huh?" Kai said. "Sounds like we need to look the part."

"Comm me when you're ready and I'll activate your earpieces," Ransom said. She always could snap back into professionalism as naturally as taking a breath.

"We will," Kai promised, pulling Ark toward the door. "Ark, bring your outfit to my apartment, would you? You're better at doing hair than I am and I could use your help getting mine to look right."

As soon as they were in the turbolift, Kai puffed out a breath, trying to sound as non-judgmental as possible. "I don't know why you bothered asking her. She never reacts well to it."

Ark looked a little embarrassed. "I was going back over some of her old case files and I just- I got carried away. She was a legend. An actual one. There were stories about how good she was, and she didn't need to divide jobs like we do. She could flirt, slice, get everything she needed, and get out before anyone even realized there was a breach."

"I know, I've read the files, too," Kai reminded her friend. Ransom had been incredible back in the day. Granted, she was impressive now, but before she had stopped going out on jobs? She could have easily run Red Squad alone and made ten times what they were earning now... And then she would have no one to split profits with. "But you're starting to be a bit of a legend yourself… Ghost."

Ark's pale cheeks reddened with the compliment. "I don't even know how that one got started. And it's not good that people know about me at all."

Kai huffed out a breath at her friend. Ark was slender, pale in every sense of the word, and silent. She was also one of the fastest slicers Kai had ever seen… the fastest if they weren't counting Ransom. 'Ghost' was a natural nickname for her. Kai was only jealous that the nature of her designated task meant that she could never get notorious enough for a nickname. Being recognized would be the end of Kai's usefulness to Red Squad.

"Enjoy it, Ark!" Kai encouraged, squashing her own jealousy. "It's a compliment. Speaking of compliments, how is your trooper?"

"You mean Thire?" Ark asked, blushing a bit darker.

Kai chuckled. "Do you have another?"

"No!" Ark shook her head, smiling despite her apparent exasperation. "We talk a lot. Thire is a great guy."

"Are you going to see him again?"

"I'd like to," Ark admitted. "What about you and Thorn?"

"Thorn?" Kai asked, a bit taken aback. "No, nothing going on there. I had fun with him - you know, drinking, watching people on the dance floor, so on - but I don't think there's much of a future in it."

"That's disappointing," Ark said with a frown.

"No, 'disappointing' will be when we aren't ready on time and Ransom kills us both."

A little less than two hours later, both women were ready to go. There was a strange sort of line they had to toe in order to do their job well. Ark had to be dressed to blend in while Kai worked to stand out. All the attention had to be on Kai so that Ark could get in and do her job before anyone noticed what was happening. They had to arrive separately as well. Kai called two different speeders to her apartment, scheduling the second to arrive later than the first.

"So, who hired us again?" Kai asked when she was ensconced in a droid-piloted speeder.

Ransom sighed heavily through the earpiece. "Seriously, Kai? This is why you need to pay attention during briefings."

"The Bespin merchant's guild hired us to find out if the Felucian merchant's guild is spying on them," Ark informed her. Judging by the muted background noise from Ark's earpiece, she was just leaving Kai's apartment.

"They hired spies to see if the other guild hired spies?" Kai asked, chuckling.

"Merchants," Ransom said simply, sounding as if the word had been accompanied by a shrug.

"Arriving at location now," Kai reported. "Estimated entrance: two minutes."

"Two minutes, mark," Ransom replied.

Kai straightened her clothes and took a deep breath before she stepped into the guild hall. It was ornate and overdone, but that was fine: it matched everything she had done with her appearance.

There was a noticeable lull in conversation when Kai stepped inside. She wrestled her smirk into a pleasant smile as she accepted a glass of expensive wine from a serving droid. The form-fitting, low-cut dress floated around her, revealing shapely legs and the most delicate high heels she owned. Her versatile hair was done in a flattering updo. While her makeup was bold, it was tasteful enough that it didn't look overdone.

If Kai was honest, the hardest part of every mission was the pretending. She had to avoid all of the things she actually enjoyed in favor of appealing to onlookers as a sexual fantasy. She had to sip delicately at wine rather than guzzle hard spirits, she could only eat small bits of food that would be sure not to stick in her teeth or ruin her lipstick, and the tightness of her dress meant that she couldn't take a full step… or a full breath.

Being the bait was a nice ego boost, but everything else about it was kind of awful.

Even as Kai mentally tallied the negative aspects of her task, an older, orange-skinned Felucian gentleman sidled up to her. Kai vaguely recognized him as Ollo Set, the head of the Felucian merchant's guild. She continued giving her pasted-on smile.

"Good evening." Considering the height of Kai's towering heels, Set only just reached her chest. Undaunted, the Felucian put on a smile he clearly meant to be charming. "How can such a lovely woman be here alone?"

"Oh, I'm here with someone," she said, doing her best to sound both flirtatious and confused. "He was supposed to meet me here, but I haven't seen him yet."

"Well, whoever the lucky man is, he's a fool to miss even a moment of your radiant company," Set oozed. He took her hand so he could bow - very shallowly - and kiss the back of it.

Kai felt a rush of revulsion. She hated when they touched her. Still, she was a rather incredible actress, if she did say so herself, so she pasted a delicate smile on her lips. "Thank you, sir. It is comforting to find such kindness here, even if my date is later than I would have hoped."

Set patted her hand in a way that managed to be both fatherly and lecherous. "If he does not arrive shortly, I shall show you around myself. Your careless date should not cause you to miss meeting these incredible people."

"I may take you up on that offer! I'm Saro," Kai lied.

"Ollo Set," he returned, adjusting the jeweled cuffs of his jacket. "Leader of the Felucian Merchant's Guild. Pleasure to meet you, Saro. I must leave for a moment, but ask anyone to point you in my direction and you'll have no trouble finding me."

"Oh," she murmured, trying to sound impressed as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. Set watched her for a moment, looking stunned, then turned to meet with a group of well-dressed Felucians. The whole gathering shut themselves in a side room, leaving the party raging on without them.

Under the pretence of adjusting an earring, Kai activated her earpiece. "Meeting of the big guys - metaphorically big, anyway. Ark, what's your ETA?"

"Speeder trouble," Ark said, sounding irritated. "ETA: four minutes."

"Four minutes, mark," Ransom confirmed.

Kai circled through the room, chatting and picking at morsels of food while she kept an eye on the entrance. At least she didn't have to be subtle about it - her cover story allowed her to openly watch the new arrivals without looking suspicious.

"I'm right outside," Ark's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Are they still in the meeting?"

"Yes," Kai breathed, managing to work her answer into the conversation she was having with a drunk Felucian female.

Ark made her entrance seconds later. She wore a mousy brown wig and a tan dress tailored to disguise her slender figure. Carefully applied makeup had lent her colorless skin the appearance of more life. As a result, she didn't stand out overly much from the other humans in the room. Ark glanced at Kai, who subtly tilted her head toward the still-closed door.

With that, Ark made her way toward a hallway. According to the detailed schematics Kai had provided, the hall held both the refreshers and several data access points. At the last moment, a serving droid moved into Ark's way, intending to offer her a glass of wine. Ark, busy double-checking the door, tripped on the droid and flailed to recover her balance. Her small bag fell to the floor, spilling her slicing materials onto the carpet as the service droid beeped around frantically, trying to offer help. Kai watched with more than a little horror as the door to the guild meeting swung open. Ollo Set stepped out first, then paused and frowned over at the commotion caused by the serving droid.

Kai rushed over toward him. "Mr. Set!"

His pale orange gaze swung toward her instead, for which Kai was forever thankful. She had seen Ark starting to gather her tools, any one of which was recognizable as being part of a slicing project. Now, Kai simply had to hold the attention of Set and the other guild members, and she knew exactly how to do it.

Tugging at her dress in apparent distress, Kai revealed a bit more of her chest than she had previously been showing and forced tears to well in her eyes. When she reached Set and the accompanying guild members, she leaned down to speak with him. Her posture allowed the best vantage point for Set to see both the tears and the cleavage.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Set asked, looking first at her chest, then the tears, then her chest again.

"I just received word that my date isn't coming after all. He's stood me up!" she told him, letting one of the tears slip down her cheek. "Is there any chance you're still willing to accompany me this evening?"

"Why, Saro," he oozed, "I would be absolutely delighted. May I introduce the other leaders of the Felucian Merchant's Guild?"

Kai chanced a glance backward as she straightened up once more - leaning down in such a tight dress was killing her spine - and was pleased to watch Ark disappear safely down the hallway. Kai relaxed slightly and put a tearful smile on as she turned to be introduced to the other Felucians.

"Wait, I- I recognize you," one of the Felucians, this one a yellow-skinned female, said haltingly.

The smile slipped from Kai's face, but she had rekindled it a moment later. "Are you sure? I don't think we've ever met."

"I've seen your face somewhere before," the female insisted.

"What are you prattling on about, Ethoda?" Set asked, striving for a tone of boredom and achieving one of irritation.

"She's someone I know, and not in a good way," Ethoda insisted. Kai's stomach gave an odd little twist at the thought that someone had finally recognized her. The Felucian female at last said, "I'm fairly certain she's a prostitute!"

Well, that was unexpected. Kai gaped. "What? I'm not a- I am not a prostitute!"

"That's just what a prostitute would say," one of the other males muttered.

"Which is more likely: a beautiful human woman being interested in Ollo or that she's a prostitute?"

"That makes more sense than anything else I've heard tonight."

"I'll notify the Coruscant Guard," Ethoda offered, rushing away.

And that was that. Admittedly, the mission had been to keep attention away from Ark in whatever way was necessary, but Kai had never expected this to be the outcome. It wasn't the proudest moment of her life, but Kai sat quietly and waited for the Coruscant Guard. The only move she made was to 'fix her hair' and activate the earpiece.

"I can't believe I'm getting arrested for prostitution," she muttered. Ark and Ransom's frantic questions and sounds of outrage provided entertainment until the Coruscant Guard arrived.

A clone trooper in red and white armor marched into the room. "Commander Thorn. What's going on here?"

---

Thorn I

"This woman is a prostitute!"

Thorn was always the first to admit that he wasn't a lighthearted trooper. The laughter and jokes that came easy to his brothers weren't part of his repertoire. Still, even Thorn had gotten a kick out of the accusations that were being thrown Kai's way. It had taken him a minute or so to recognize her - especially with a group of Felucians insisting that her name was Saro - but her look of dread at his entrance had been a solid clue.

He had taken down the eyewitness details of the incident with care. Keeping his voice level was tricky, but no one could hear the mocking he knew was clear in his expression. When the long-winded Felucians finished talking, Thorn closed the document so he could place binders on Kai's wrists and lead her to his cruiser.

"I'll take her to the precinct," he told the Felucians.

He had to shut down the external speakers on his helmet when the leader of the group - an orange-skinned male who had introduced himself as 'Ollo Set', followed them outside. As he fixed Kai with a stern gaze and he said, "Let this be a lesson to you, young lady: there is no substitute for an honest day's work", Thorn laughed aloud.

Rather than risk reactivating his speaking and giving away the game, Thorn had nodded to acknowledge Set's thanks. He steered Kai into the back of the cruiser as soon as he could and settled into the front seat himself. They were in the air waiting to enter traffic when he finally thought it was safe to remove his bucket.

As he reached for the familiar plastoid curves, Kai snapped, "This is ridiculous. You know I'm not a prostitute."

Thorn broke the seal that had formed between his blacks and his helmet before answering. "Of course I know that. Do you think I leave the code to my binders in the backseat with every perp?"

"Oh," she said, ire deflating as she grabbed the scrap of flimsi and awkwardly typed the written code into the binders. "Then why-?"

"If I hadn't brought you in for a false claim like prostitution, they may have come up with something more difficult to fight." He met Kai's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Like industrial espionage."

There was no answer from the backseat and Thorn abruptly found the whole situation less amusing than he had previously. Industrial espionage was a nasty business, and he wasn't thrilled to find that Kai was wrapped up in it.

"Care to explain what you were doing at the headquarters for the Felucian merchant's guild?" he asked.

She sighed, looking conflicted. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. As long as it's the truth. I don't like listening to lies."

"Hey," she said, leaning forward with an offended look on her face. "I don't lie."

Thorn snorted. "You want to try feeding that line to the crowd of civvies back there who told me all about 'Saro'?"

"I lie at work because it's literally my job," Kai snapped. "I don't have a choice there, but I do everywhere else. I am not a liar."

"So your job is to lie and you wear revealing clothing while you do so," Thorn mused. "Are you sure you're not a prostitute?"

"I'm on an information securities team called Red Squad," she told him irritably. "We were hired to get intelligence from the Felucian merchant's guild."

"And they sent you in alone?" Thorn asked with an unfortunate chuckle.

"No, I wasn't there by myself," Kai admitted. "But I couldn't stay, not after having attracted that much attention. I don't even know if the mission was a success or not."

"Another private sector success, then," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "I take it that jobs don't always end this way?"

She snorted. "Believe it or not, this is the first time I've ever been arrested under suspicion of being a prostitute."

"It's a small and glorious club," he said. "It also signals the need for a career change. Ever thought about doing anything else? This espionage thing may not be your strong suit."

She grew quiet and Thorn saw her turn to stare out of the window. His heart skipped a beat. Stars, don't let her start crying... He felt an unusual wave of pity wash over him. Kai's day had clearly gone wrong and here she was being taken away from a formal event in the back of a police cruiser. Plus, Thorn's vode had always told him he could be abrasive, so chances were good that he wasn't helping matters.

"Hey, I'm not going to charge you with anything. Why don't you give me your address and I'll drive you home?"

"You can just drop me off here," she said frostily. "I can find my own way home."

"The kriff you will," he shut down immediately. "It's almost midnight. Coruscant isn't safe for civvies dressed like you are at this time of night."

"Maybe at the next intersection," Kai suggested, pretending she hadn't heard him.

"Maybe I'll take you to the precinct after all," Thorn threatened. "That way, I won't be responsible if you end up attacked or killed for walking through dangerous parts of the planet at night, looking like a-"

He cut himself off and Kai leaned forward, a challenging look on her pretty face. "Like a prostitute?"

Actually, he had been about to say that she looked like royalty, but her tart response knocked some sense back into him. "Yeah," he agreed instead. "Something like that."

"You're impossible," she told him, sounding tired. "Just… take me home."

She gave him the address, but Thorn could hardly hear it over the pounding of his heart. Kai probably hadn't meant for her words to sound inviting - far from it - but they had caused a pang of something long-buried in his memory. The feeling of home hadn't been one emphasized in flash training or any day since, but he had always imagined it would be the way he felt when he had heard Kai's request.

Still, he forced his mind back to his duty and plugged Kai's address into the navicomputer on his cruiser. Shortly afterward, they had arrived at a plain-looking building. Kai still hadn't said another word to him, which frustrated Thorn for some reason. They may not have exchanged comlink info like Thire and his girl had, but Thorn and Kai had gotten along at 79's. He couldn't remember a time he had laughed harder than when she drunkenly told an equally drunken Nikto that he had "scored a perfect 30" on the dance floor.

Deciding to make things right once and for all, Thorn shut off the cruiser and got out to open Kai's door.

"Thank you, Commander," she said stiffly. "Drive safe on your way back to the precinct."

"Hold on, let me walk you inside," he offered, injecting enough suffering into his tone that she would think it was a punishment. She didn't say anything to encourage him, but she didn't say he couldn't accompany her, either.

So Thorn found himself following Kai down two flights of narrow stairs to her housing unit. When they arrived at the door, he noted an odd lock keeping it closed. Still, he thought little of it until Kai also frowned and made a confused little sound.

Every instinct Thorn had demanded that he act. In half a second, he had grasped Kai around the waist, spun to place her behind him, and drawn one of his blaster pistols. He ignored Kai's questions and focused on the area, but his HUD wasn't showing any signs of potentially hostile lifeforms. More importantly, the strange lock wasn't bringing up any warnings.

"What's on your door?" he demanded, still scanning their surroundings.

"It's a lock," Kai explained slowly.

"I figured that," Thorn's response was dry. "What kind of lock and who put it there?"

"How do you know I didn't?"

"Body language, tension, and observation, now focus," Thorn commanded. "Who put that lock on your door?"

"Probably Ark," Kai admitted with a sigh. "It's for me to practice slicing."

The answer was so far beyond anything Thorn had been expecting that he actually let the barrel of his blaster drop toward the floor as he turned to face her. He repeated, "Slicing?"

"Yeah, I'm over-" Kai stopped her sentence halfway through. "You know what? I don't want to explain this to you."

"Do it anyway," Thorn advised. "Because I'm not leaving, otherwise."

She crossed her arms, kicking up her chin. Right as Thorn thought he would have to press her again, Kai said quietly, "I'm sick of being the bait. I want to do something useful, like slicing, but I'm not very good at it. Ark is trying to teach me and she's big on practice. She bought me this lock and said it would give me motivation to learn."

"So, she put a practice slicing lock on the door to your apartment. You would have to use your new skill to get inside," Thorn summarized. It sounded like something that his vode would do. He silently supported the endeavor even as he mentally noted the implication that Kai and Ark worked as some kind of team.

Still, Thorn holstered his blaster and gestured at the door. He took a step to the side so she could access the lock. "Well, go ahead. Slice."

Kai looked at him, eyes severe. "I'm not any good at it and I'm tired. Do you know anything about slicing?"

"Not a thing," said Commander Thorn of the GAR, official head of the department overseeing arrests and difficult extractions that often included slicing.

"I could get a hotel room for tonight…" she mused.

Thorn rolled his eyes. She was as dramatic as Hound. "Or you could just try it. Your friend wouldn't put an unsliceable lock on your door, would she?"

"Probably not," Kai agreed with palpable reluctance. She sighed and pulled a small set of tools out from behind a potted plant in the hallway as Thorn watched with growing amusement.

Kai placed the scramble key on the back of the lock, but it was backwards and wouldn't work. "What are you doing?"

"Unlocking the door? I'm pretty sure," Kai told him, poking at the lock. "I don't know why the key isn't registering, though."

"Explain the process to me," he invited.

She turned to stare at him, seeming shocked. "You want me to teach you how to slice?"

"Why not?" Thorn asked. "Teaching a skill is one of the best ways to see if you've learned it."

"Fine," Kai huffed. "First, you attach the scramble key to the back of the lock… oops. That's definitely backwards. Anyway! Once the system has registered the key, it can start running possible combinations. Then your only job is to keep the security systems from booting you out."

Thorn watched the process, trying not to smile as Kai clumsily shut down security checks and shutdown attempts. Her methods weren't pretty, but they were effective, and the lock dropped from the door after a few minutes of work.

He retrieved the lock and the scramble key for her, taking a moment to study the key close-up. Thorn hadn't seen anything like it before. That was impressive, considering how much of his job revolved around slicing attempts. The key was homemade, like all the best scramble keys were, but on a level that told him how well the maker understood the process of slicing.

"Interesting key," he commented, hiding his interest. "Where did you get it?"

Kai glanced at it, unimpressed. "Ark gave it to me. She said it was trustworthy."

So Ark was a slicer. If she had been the one who made that key, she was kriffing good at it, too. Thorn made a mental note to ask Thire about the woman he had been spending so much time talking to. A moment later, that and all other coherent thoughts left his mind as Kai turned back and asked, "Do you want to come inside?"

He stared at her, dark brows furrowed. "You don't like me."

"I don't like when you mock me," she corrected. "But I like you just fine. Plus, you aren't arresting me when we both know you could. I think that's worth a cup of caf. Maybe even a cookie."

"Maybe even two cookies," he joked, following her into the apartment.

Kai gave a teasing scoff over her shoulder. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

---

A/N - Poor Kai. That would have to be a pretty hefty blow to your ego! Good thing Thorn was the one to respond - even if he did lie about knowing how to slice. On that note, do you know who knows nothing about slicing? Me. So if anyone is an expert about the process and this reads poorly, I'm sorry! I just started playing Republic Commando and did a lengthy skim on the Wikipedia page about slicing, but that's the extent of my knowledge.

#Warriors in Red Armor #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #tcw #commander thorn #coruscant guard #commander fox #commander thire #sergeant hound #clone troopers deserve better #more to come

17 notes · View notes

blossom-hwa · 4 years

Text

Fall [Spiral] - MARK |Swing!|

There are some spoilers for Captain America: Civil War in this chapter, so spoiler alert! Once again, thank you @deathbykpopboys for inspiring this series :)

Pairing: Mark x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, Spiderman!au

Triggers: a lot of cursing, violence, PANIC ATTACKS IN THIS CHAPTER (I in no way meant to romanticize these triggers. If you feel I did, please let me know and I will fix it.)

Word Count: 7.5k

As the year goes on, the world starts crashing down.

Arc { 1 - Drifting Apart | 2 - Coming Home } >> Fall { 1 - Spiral | 2 - Rise } >> Release

NCT Masterlist | Swing!

A couple of weeks pass. Dr. Charles Roberts and several other people are arrested. Things go more or less back to normal here at home. There’s a shitshow happening on the international scale – someone fucking killed the king of Wakanda and tried to take out a whole UN conference with him, and apparently the Winter Soldier is involved, what the fuck is up with that – but at home, things are okay.

The university labs are more or less fixed, so you start heading back there after school. It takes some time to get used to the new layout of things, but the explosion didn’t touch too much – Wang’s lab was much farther down the hall. AcaDec takes a new member, a sophomore named Ash, who’s smart but can’t seem to really fill the hole that Lia left on the team. You find that you do miss her presence.

Patrolling is no longer filled with stewing silence. Instead, it’s comfortable again. Peaceful. You and Mark don’t swing through opposite sides of the city now. You still split up to cover more territory, but you’re never more than a few minutes of swinging from each other.

The cuts heal. The bruises fade. The scars appear, barely paler than your skin, and far fewer of them than you’d expect. Johnny and Mei don’t suspect anything.

So things are back to normal. For the most part.

Until they aren’t.

You and Mark are walking home one day from the bus stop. It’s early evening, but you don’t plan to patrol tonight. Mei just got a raise, so Johnny’s planned a little celebratory dinner for all four of you. It’ll be fun.

Mark stops first. Lost in thought, you don’t notice until you bump into him. “The fuck, Mark –”

And then you see the fanciest, sleekest, most bougie fucking car you’ve ever seen, parked right in front of your shitty little apartment.

You’re burning with questions as the two of you ascend the stairs. How did anyone here get the money for that car?

“Johnny!” you yell, flinging open the door.

“Hello to you too, troublemaker children,” Johnny calls from somewhere. “How was school?”

“Boring,” Mark yells.

“Also boring here, but Dr. Wang made something explode on accident in the lab today.” You carefully leave out the part where the explosion brought you back to that terrifying night on the beach and you spent a couple seconds hyperventilating before one of the graduate students, Yuta, helped you calm down. You drop your bags in the kitchen, then come out to the small living room. “But there’s this crazy fucking car parked outside –”

Mark’s footsteps stop behind you.

You fall silent.

Because Tony fucking Stark is sitting on your tiny ratty couch next to Mei and Johnny, scrutinizing one of Mei’s (probably awful) cookies between his fingers. His eyes flicker toward you, then Mark, and he smiles. “Oh, Ms. L/N, Mr. Lee!”

Mark mumbles something under his breath that sounds something like “dreaming.” You pinch yourself.

Definitely not dreaming.

“Um.” You take a breath, trying to wrap your head around the fact that Tony fucking Stark is in your living room. “Hi?” You wince when that comes out more like a question than a greeting. “I’m Y/N…”

“I’m Mark,” Mark echoes, sounding vaguely dazed.

“Tony,” Tony fucking Stark introduces himself. As if any of you here didn’t know who he was already.

“Uh…” You rack your brains for a polite way to say what you’re thinking. “What… what are you doing here?”

Nice, Y/N, real nice. That’s the definition of polite right there.

“Well, it’s about time we met.” Tony fucking Stark starts winking. Actually, you can’t tell if it’s just a tic or if he’s actually winking. “You’ve been getting my emails, right?”

Definitely winking.

“Yeah…?” Mark replies. “Right. Um, emails about the…”

“You didn’t tell us about the grants!” Mei bursts out.

“Right, the grants.” You swallow. “Um…”

“September Foundation,” Tony fucking Stark supplies. “Research projects. Remember when you applied?”

You nod mutely, feeling slightly sick. Johnny looks something between super elated and incredibly proud and utterly betrayed. He catches your eye and mouths we’re talking about this later.

Something inside you wilts and dies.

Tony fucking Stark smiles. “Well, I approved!” He puts down the cookie. “So now we’re in business.”

“Do you visit all the people to whom you give grants, Dr. Stark, uh, sir?” Mark asks timidly.

“Oh, please don’t call me Doctor. I don’t like that. Mister is fine. And no, just a few.” Tony fucking Stark – you need to stop adding “fucking” there like it’s his middle name – winks again. “We don’t usually give grants to high schoolers, you see, so every time we do, we do something a little special.”

Do you usually do special things for high schoolers who never applied for your grant in the first place?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Johnny pipes up. He pouts slightly, and you want to melt into the ground out of embarrassment. Why is he pouting. “What’s up with that?”

“Well, uh…” You bite your lip, racing to come up with a believable lie. “We didn’t actually think we were going to get it? Since, uh, on the website, it says that high schoolers are rarely given grants and are discouraged from applying…” You swallow. “So we just didn’t tell anyone we applied.”

Tony fuckin – Tony Stark looks at you appraisingly. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing.

“But even after you got it?” Mei looks between you and Mark. “You couldn’t tell us when you got it?”

Surprisingly, Mark steps up. “Um, well, we know you love surprises.” He scratches the back of his neck. “So we just wanted to wait for the… right time? To surprise you? Didn’t want to steal your thunder with the raise…” His voice cracks slightly at the end of his sentence. You stifle a snicker.

Tony fuck – Tony Stark picks up the cookie again and takes a bite. “This cookie is exceptional,” he says, winking at Mei.

He’s lying. Mei can’t bake. She can barely cook, and then only the most basic things. Why the fuck is he lying –

Oh, no no no, fucking NO, Tony fucking Stark is NOT flirting with Mei.

As it turns out, Tony fucking Stark is flirting with Mei.

You glance at Mark to see him looking extremely uncomfortable and ready to die. Johnny’s looking at you with an evil, amused smile on his face, so he won’t be helping. You decide to put Mark out of his misery.

“Okay, uh, so what exactly did we apply for again?” you say loudly. “Because it was a long time ago. I don’t know if we’ve started on new projects since then.”

“That’s what I’m here to hash out!” Tony Stark flashes a winning smile. “Can I get a few minutes with these two lovely children?”

A chorus of “Sures!” and “Of courses!” sounds from the two other adults sitting on the couch. You zip over to your room, ignoring Mark and Tony fuck – Tony Stark following behind, and immediately slam the door shut.

. . . . .

There are a few seconds of silence before Mark finally decides to cut the crap. “Okay, so, uh, neither of us actually applied for your grant –”

“Nuh uh.” Tony Stark holds up a hand. “Me first.”

Mark shuts up.

“I have a quick question of the, let’s say, rhetorical variety.” He holds up the latest Starkphone – shit, it’s nice – which projects a hologram of Mark swinging off a building and kicking a mugger in the head. You swoop down a second later, pulling another one out of a car.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck –

“That’s you, isn’t it?”

“No,” you snap. “No, that’s not us.”

Mark is ever thankful that you’re by his side, because there’s no way he could keep talk without stuttering right now.

The hologram video changes to Mark catching a speeding vehicle just before it crashes into a building, then to you dodging a hail of bullets. Tony Stark raises an eyebrow. “Look at you go. Impressive.”

“That’s – that’s all on YouTube, you know that, right?” Mark can hear your heart thudding and takes over. “Like, it could be anyone, obviously. Or anything.”

“Yeah, uh huh.” Tony Stark begins looking around the room. “Like those UFOs in Phoenix…”

“Yeah!” Mark nods quickly. “Exactly –”

And then Tony Stark flips up your mattress, revealing the suit neatly folded beneath it. “Oh, what have we here?”

Fuck –

You snatch up the clothes so fast Mark barely realizes you’ve done it. Your eyes are wide.

Utter silence falls in the room.

“So, you two are the spiderkids. Crime fighting spider-people.” Tony Stark raises an eyebrow. “Spider…lings? Spiderboy, Spidergirl…”

“Silk,” you mutter.

“Spiderman,” Mark mumbles. He thinks he’d like to jump off a cliff right about now.

“Not in those onesies, you’re not.”

Okay, that’s a low blow. Mark opens his mouth to retaliate, but you beat him to it. “Not a onesie if it consists of two articles of clothing,” you snap, shoving your clothes back under the mattress. “Can’t believe we were actually having a good day…”

You look like you’re going to start crying or screaming or both. Mark knows that look. It’s the look you get before you start getting really pissed.

He grabs your hand. “Calm,” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. Your body relaxes slightly.

Tony Stark looks over at the two of you, both eyebrows raised. “Dating?”

“No,” Mark snaps, ignoring the slight twinge he feels when he says that. “Now seriously, why are you here?” Tony Stark might be one of his technological heroes, but if he doesn’t get to the point soon, he just might lose it.

The billionaire genius mutters something under his breath that Mark can’t quite hear, even with his enhanced hearing. Something about “dating” and “yeah right.”

Mark’s stomach curdles. His cheeks feel hot.

Tony Stark sits himself down on the bed. “Just wanted to thank you two.”

“For what?” you ask.

“You don’t remember?” He raises his hand, fluttering it like it’s flying. “Crashing jet full of dangerous alien tech? Vulture man?”

Oh, right.

The knowledge must register on your faces, because Tony Stark continues. “I’d heard a little bit about the two spiders swinging around Queens at night, but that was what made me actually curious about you two.” He leans his chin into his hand. “So who else knows?”

“One friend,” Mark gets out. “That’s it.”

“Really?” Tony Stark jerks an eyebrow at the door. “Not the older brother? Not the unusually attractive aunt?”

“Okay, no. Just no.” Mark rubs his face with his free hand. He hears a soft, disgusted eep issue from your throat. “No, Mei and Johnny do not know, because if they did, they’d freak the fuck out, and then we’d freak out, and that would be very bad for everyone.”

“Mhm.” Tony Stark throws something. You catch it without blinking an eye. It’s a little canister filled with a sample of your web fluid. “You know what I think is interesting? This webbing. Tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured it?”

You swallow. “I did.”

“Interesting. The… web shooting things?”

“Me,” Mark says.

Tony Stark whistles. “And sticking to walls? How do you do that?”

Both of you wince. “Long… story?”

But Tony Stark’s already pulled your suit back out from under the mattress and is peering into the pair of darkened goggles you’ve sewn into the mask. Next to him, Mark sees you cringe. “Lordy! How do you see in these things?”

You snatch the mask back with more force than necessary. “Heightened senses,” you snap. “Sometimes feels like everything’s caving in on you. Goggles make it easier to focus.”

A beat of silence.

“Well, that confirms it.” Tony Stark stands up, only to place himself down on your small desk chair. “You two are in dire need of some upgrades. Systemic. Full-body. One hundred percent. That’s the other reason I’m here.”

Mark can’t deal with this while standing up. He sits on the bed. You follow suit.

“So why do you do this?” Tony Stark waves a hand at the two of you. “I gotta know. What’s your MO? Motivation? What gets you out of bed and into the streets to do the police’s job for them?”

“Well, first of all, the police don’t fucking do their job, so jot that down,” you hiss, fingers digging into Mark’s palm. “Second…” You soften slightly. “If you have the ability to help people. Stop crime. If you have the ability but you don’t use it, and then shit happens…”

Mark takes over when you falter. “Then those things happened because of you.”

More silence.

“So you want to look out for the little guy, make the world a better place.” Tony Stark raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Move over.” Tony Stark stands up, motioning to the space on the bed next to you.

You move over.

“Got a passport?” He sits down and raises an eyebrow.

Well, yeah. But the two of you haven’t traveled in a long time, so you don’t know if they’re expired.

“Ever been to Germany?” Tony Stark presses.

“… No?”

He smiles. “Oh, you’ll love it.”

“We can’t go to Germany,” you say, bewilderment etched across your features.

“Why?”

“We have…” Mark winces before he says it. “Homework?”

Tony Stark, Mark’s technological hero, looks supremely disappointed and nonplussed at the same time. Mark thinks he wants to die. “Okay, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Hey, I’m being serious!” Mark protests. “We literally took the SAT two weeks ago. We can’t just, I don’t know, drop out of school and go out of town –”

“Might be a little dangerous,” Tony Stark mutters, walking to the door. He places his hand on the doorknob. “Better tell handsome brother and Aunt Hottie I’m taking the spiderlings –”

A glob of webbing pins his hand to the door. Mark and Tony Stark swing their heads over to look at you.

“Don’t. Tell. Johnny. Or. Mei,” you enunciate carefully.

For a moment, there’s just dead silence, where Mark tries to figure out what the hell is actually going on and how his day went from being so boring to so eventful in such a bad way.

“All right, Silk.” Tony Stark nods, then points to the webs with his free hand. “Now get me out of this.”

. . . . .

You don’t know how Stark did it, but this suit literally fits you perfectly. Even as you’re hiding in your position, you can’t stop marveling about how smooth it feels against your skin.

It’s black and white, with a hood that keeps your hair back and a mask that somehow lets you breathe easily but is still tight against your skin. There are no visible holes for eyes, but some weird technology lets you see through the material anyway.

It feels perfect.

Tony Stark is a motherfucking genius.

A loud whooshing sound comes from the sky. From your vantage point, hidden inside one of the upper levels of the parking garage, you watch Iron Man and War Machine swoop down to meet Captain America in the middle of the airport.

“Wow, it’s so weird how you run into people at the airport,” Tony Stark says in the most deadpan voice possible, his helmet lowering to reveal his face.

You snicker slightly.

The two sides go back and forth for a bit. Mr. Stark didn’t explain the whole argument, citing the fact that you’re too young to understand (to which you bristled a bit), but he gave you your roles, and you’re not about to question him. Stay quiet and hidden, only come out if there’s actual fighting.

Mark, on the other hand, gets to do something you envy a bit.

He gets to take Captain America’s shield.

Just then, Mr. Stark yells the code word. “Underoos!”

You really stifle a laugh then as Mark swoops in, snatches the shield, webs Captain’s hands together, and lands on the roof of a nearby car.

“Nice job, kid,” Mr. Stark calls.

Somehow, even hidden behind the suit, Mark looks awkward. It’s both embarrassing and endearing at the same time.

Classic Mark. Can barely take a compliment. You cringe slightly as your best friend starts rambling.

“Well, I could’ve stuck the landing better, it’s just, uh, new suit – wait, no, it’s perfect, Mr. Stark, thank you –”

Thankfully, Mr. Stark cuts him off. “That’s good, kid.”

A beat of silence.

“Hey, everyone.” Mark waves awkwardly.

No one waves back. You cringe harder.

The awkward atmosphere turns serious when Mr. Stark opens his mouth again. “What are you doing, Cap?” He sighs so loudly you can hear it even from your hiding spot. “You’re being an idiot. You dragged in Clint, took Wanda from a place she didn’t want to leave, a safe place?” His eyes blaze. “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart!”

You blink. What?

There’s more that you don’t understand. Something about turning over Barnes, no compunction about hurting people, and then Lang? Who’s Lang?

Apparently Lang is a small dude who becomes a regular-sized dude all in the process of kicking Mark’s face and returning Captain’s shield.

His suit looks like an ant.

You can practically hear the what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck running through Mark’s head as he stands up because you’re feeling it too.

“Two in the parking deck, one of them’s Maximoff,” Mr. Stark says. “I’m getting her. Rhodey, can you take Cap?”

Colonel Rhodes answers in the affirmative. “Got two in the terminal. Wilson and Barnes.”

“Cool. Spiderling? Got that? Keep your distance and web them up.”

“Yeah,” Mark replies, eyes narrowing. He jumps onto the terminal glass.

You race out of the parking garage, careful to stay hidden, then leap across to the terminal in plain sight to many yells of confusion on the ground below. Someone yells, “There’s another one?”

You smirk. “Ready?”

. . . . .

Mark thanks every god he can think of for his sticky abilities as he races across the glass, keeping Wilson and Barnes in sight. He lashes out with both hands, sending two strings of webbing onto the terminal overhanging, then shoves backward.

The momentum of his swing crashes him through the glass. He grits his teeth, waiting for the pain as glass shatters around him, but Mr. Stark has somehow made his suit so that the glass can’t pierce it, no matter how thin the material feels.

Genius.

Swinging through the new hole, you lash out with your feet and and Wilson goes down with a grunt. Another swing, and then Mark’s inside, ready to fight off Barnes.

He doesn’t even think when Barnes swings his arm. His mind flashes back to a fistfight he dealt with a few weeks ago, and on instinct, he catches Barnes’s fist in his hand.

The sound of metal hitting something fills the air. Mark looks, really looks, and sees that it was Barnes’s fist that made the sound.

“You have a metal arm?” Mark blurts out, unable to contain himself. “That’s so cool!”

And then Sam Wilson, apparently recovered from your kick, swoops in and lifts Mark right off the ground. As he tussles with the Falcon, Mark hears you engage Barnes and yell, “Shit, that metal arm really is awesome!”

See? He really can’t be blamed for how cool a bionic arm is, right?

Wilson twists around in midair, giving Mark the opening he needs to attach to the ceiling and swing out of his reach. A terminal sign falls under his weight as he leaps across steel beams, narrowly avoiding blasts of Wilson’s gunfire.

“DUCK!” you scream from farther below.

Mark’s danger sense already warned him, but your added reminder is helpful as he flattens himself on the beam, just in time for the ripped-off billboard to sail over his head like a large frisbee. “Get out of the way!” you yell, leaping onto the same beam just in time to web up Falcon’s chest, sending him spiraling to the floor. As he goes down, Mark webs up the engine pack on his back, then sticks him to the glass barricade around the escalator.

“Those wings carbon fiber?” you call, clinging to one of the directory posts nearby.

“This stuff coming out of you?” Wilson looks at the webbing on his hands in disbelief.

Mark fully ignores him. “Well, if it is, that’d explain the rigidity-flexibility ratio, which is fucking awesome.” You make a noise of agreement.

“I don’t know if you’ve been in a fight before, kid, but there’s not usually this much talking,” Wilson growls.

You snort, beckoning to Mark. “Well, if he wants to be unfriendly, guess we’ll just have to hack up the blueprints later.”

“My bad,” Mark echoes, then leaps back into the rafters as Barnes comes barreling over. One string of fluid and a well-placed swing later, he’s crashing through the glass escalator barrier, sending both men to the ground. From your position on the ceiling, you web them down before they can get back up.

“Hi hello, sorry about this, but all we had to do was impress Mr. Stark.” You shrug, leaping down to crouch next to him on another directory post. “We’d love to talk some more – especially about that bionic arm, that’s so cool, like the wings are cool but the arm is better, but –”

Mark sees Wilson’s hand move before you do. Just as you send out another string of webbing, something flies out, catches it and drags you out of the glass. “Oh, come on!” he hears you yell.

He tries to think of something clever to say to the pair lying on the ground before leaping off to follow you, but all he can come up with is, “For fuck’s sake.”

Mark doesn’t yell that aloud. He just mutters it under his breath before following you out of the terminal.

. . . . .

The rest of the fight, to put it lightly (and in Mr. Stark’s words) is a shitfest.

You think that you and Mark did fine, if there’s even a way you could measure fine in this kind of scenario. You guys actually manage to fuck around with Captain America for a bit until his physics-defying shield clocks Mark’s face.

Something rips apart in your chest during that one horrible second where Mark goes down and you can’t tell if he’s alive or dead. Inwardly, you swear that if Captain America killed your best friend, you’ll murder him, symbol of America or no.

Mark turns out to be fine. He rolls over and just gasps at the sky. You yell at him to stay away and then Captain America drops a passenger boarding bridge for planes onto your head, nearly causing you to spiral into memories of that time Adrian Toomes sent an entire building crashing down on you and Mark.

(“You got heart, kid.” Captain America looks at you appraisingly as your knees buckle under the weight of the bridge. “Where’re you from?”

Between a pounding heart and spiraling thoughts, you somehow manage to answer. “Qu-Queens.”

“Brooklyn.”

“As if –” you gasp, trying to head off the increasing panic – “my history teacher from Brooklyn didn’t repeat that bit of information about you twenty times in the space of one fucking hour.”

You’re not sure, but you think Captain America smiled at that.)

No, you two aren’t the problem. After Mark helps you out from under the bridge and uses his brilliance and love of Star Wars to come up with a fantastic plan to take down a now not-tiny Ant Man (“Okay, anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they’d like to disclose? I’m open to suggestions.” “Uh, no abilities here, but I’ve got an idea?”).

Ant Man’s hand eventually smacks you and Mark down. Mr. Stark then forces you to stay down with the threat of leaking your spidery secrets to Mei and Johnny, so you two limp out of the picture.

By the time Mr. Stark comes back to collect the two of you – Mark has a splitting headache, and you think you’re on the verge of an anxiety attack or something – the fight’s over. Captain and Barnes have escaped. The other “rogue” Avengers are going to some high-security prison. Colonel Rhodes might possibly be paralyzed.

Mr. Stark doesn’t look great when he tells you two the news. You think you’re just going to pass out.

Two perfect scores on the SAT cheer you up slightly. Johnny and Mei video call in the hotel room in Germany to congratulate you. But Mr. Stark’s anger at Colonel Rhodes’s state – well, more like anger at himself for not having saved his friend – dampens your moods more than slightly.

Mr. Stark apologizes to the two of you back at the hotel. “I’m sorry, kids.” He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I didn’t think this was really going to come to blows. I shouldn’t have brought you in, though.”

Neither you nor Mark knows exactly what to say to that other than a slightly concussed, “It’s fine.”

You get to keep the suits. Mr. Stark demands you let him know if anything malfunctions, though you have a feeling he’ll know anyway. He designed the suits – there’s no way he wouldn’t install some sort of tracking device or whatever that would let him know how damaged it is.

This Mr. Stark is a far cry from the cocky, flirtatious one you met back at the apartment. Here, you see a softer, more broken side of the confident guy that makes an appearance on TV. He’s nice, you realize. Kind. He’s got a lot of baggage, but he’s trying to do what’s right.

And isn’t that just what you and Mark are trying to do?

Mark’s concussion heals quickly. Mr. Stark postulates that your spider bites gave you speedier healing, which would make sense – now that you think of it, your cuts and bruises after that disastrous homecoming healed rather quickly, quickly enough that Johnny didn’t really notice them.

Mr. Stark takes the two of you back home after a couple of days of rest in the hotel. He’s all cordial smiles when Johnny and Mei come down to get you guys. You’re supposed to go to Stark Industries every Sunday now for regular suit repairs, under the guise that you’re conducting research with that grant he gave you.

Now, you’re not stupid enough to go around publicizing your sort-of relationship with Tony Stark. The man’s practically a god. But someone from school apparently saw the two of you getting out of his car the day you got back from Germany, so now people have a lot of questions they want you answer.

During the space of one week, Flash tries a grand total of five times to bully an answer out of you. Mark has to hold you back from clocking him in the face after the fifth time. After that, you tell everyone you have an internship at Stark Industries, and even though that just spawns more questions, there’s nothing more you’ll say about it.

So life goes on. No one at school knows about your spontaneous, long-weekend trip to Germany. Johnny and Mei just think it’s a perk of being chosen as a September Fund grant winner as a high school student. Only you and Mark know differently, and that’s good. It’s what you decided in the beginning, wasn’t it? You even webbed Tony fucking Stark’s hand to your door to prevent him from blabbing.

Life is normal. You go to school, work in the lab, practice for AcaDec, and patrol. Life is normal.

Until it isn’t.

. . . . .

Mark remembers the exact day he saw the first article. It’s December 15, about a month after Germany. He’s just scrolling through his phone at lunch, half-listening to Haechan complain about something or another, when the story pops up on his news briefing.

Spiderman and Silk: Friends or Foes?

Curious, he taps on the link.

Later, as he sits in physics, shell-shocked, he’ll wish that he never bothered to look at it. He never really searches himself up – it’s just kind of weird. After the fight in Germany, the two of you are more well-known than ever, but when he hears mentions of Spiderman or Silk at school or on the streets, it’s usually good stuff. Or neutral, at least. He hadn’t really felt the need to see what people online have to say about him until that day.

Mark doesn’t know what possessed him to open that article in the first place, but he wishes it had never happened.

Because it isn’t a friendly article. It denounces you and him as half-breeds, some sort of escaped experiment gone wrong. It doesn’t actually pinpoint what experiment or the company that fucked it up – for that, Mark is thankful – but it really does hurt to see that people don’t see the good you two are trying to do, just your strange abilities.

They don’t even think you two are human.

Some of the comments defend the two of you, pointing out the enhanced abilities of other heroes like Captain America. But far more agree with the article’s words, even going so far as to demand the two of you be tried as criminals and put in prison.

That, Mark thinks, is bullshit. Neither of you have ever killed anyone, just knocked people unconscious and webbed them up. Compare that to the gunfights, the muggings, the rapes that could have happened, and he doesn’t think those comments are justified.

But they stay in the back of his mind, and when you ask him why he’s brooding on the train ride to the labs, he’s forced to show you the article. He’s forced to watch you read it, watch your smile fade, and watch you try to put your usual confident face back on. “It’s just an article,” you say flippantly, handing back the phone. “And I think we’re doing fine.”

Mark half agrees. It is just an article, he knows that’s true. But he doesn’t think you really believe that.

Hell, he doesn’t even think he really believes that.

Still, he tries to explain away the extra hour of patrolling he tacks on for himself every night. He leaves you out of it, at first – he just stays on the rooftop for a while longer until he’s sure you’re in bed, and then swings around for a bit more.

Until the night (well, morning) that he returns from that extra hour to see you standing on the rooftop in your pajamas, arms crossed.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” is the first thing you say when he guiltily lands in front of you.

And of course, now he has to let you go with him.

So patrols extend. Mark tells you that it’s just because he wants to make sure he cleans up as much crime as possible. You take that reason with a nod and a “sure,” because even though you believe Mark is a good person to the core (you’ve told him this many times), you also read that article.

You’ve also caught him reading more.

He feels strangely guilty each time you pluck his phone out of his hands and exit the browser app, raising an eyebrow. When that doesn’t stop him, you resort to giving him a punch every time you catch him.

“Are you trying to, like, classically condition me?” Mark complains, rubbing his shoulder. Yeah, he’s extra strong now, but so are you. And your punches hurt.

“Pretty sure it’s operant conditioning. And yes, if that’s what it takes for you to stop reading those shit articles,” you snap, punching him again in the same spot.

It’s hard to stop, though. Mark doesn’t know how celebrities do it. He’s anonymous – he can count the number of people who know his secret identity on one hand – but he still feels so much pressure from these articles to prove them wrong.

But that’s hard to do when they all contradict each other. Some complain that he does too much. Some complain that he does too little. Others just dislike him in general and he really shouldn’t pay attention to those, but he can’t. Day by day, he forces himself to do more – swing faster, punch harder, help more people, put more criminals behind bars.

What else can he do?

. . . . .

You’ve suspected something was wrong with you ever since that explosion in Professor Wang’s lab, the day Tony Stark came to your apartment. Explosions, though uncommon, are still a part of lab life. Usually you’d just look up, snicker at whoever did it, laugh if it was Wang, and get back to work.

That day is the first time you freak out over an explosion. It wasn’t even that big or loud, either. Mei has definitely caused bigger messes in her own apartment.

But it doesn’t matter, because suddenly, you’re back on the beach under a pitch-black sky, feeling yourself being thrown backwards as metal vulture wings tear themselves apart in a shower of beautifully dangerous blue and purple sparks.

Yuta, once you’ve calmed down, tells you that you were hyperventilating. That makes sense. You remember a burning sensation in your chest and your heart beating faster than you ever thought it could. When you’re finally calm, you’re shaking slightly, sweat beading your forehead.

At the time, you don’t plan to tell anyone about it. For all you know, it was just one isolated experience. It probably won’t happen again.

And then Captain America – who is very different from the PSA videos Coach shows you during PE – drops a passenger bridge onto you, sending you back under crushing concrete blocks. You can practically feel the dust clogging your throat and entering your nose as you struggle to respond to what the Captain is saying – because fuck if you’re going to show weakness to a superhero – and even though some part of your brain knows that what you’re feeling isn’t actually real, it feels like it is and that’s enough to start sending you spiraling.

Mark helps you out that time, helping push the bridge off of you even through his pounding headache. As you collapse on the ground, heaving, you’re not sure if he notices the imminent panic attack you’ve just managed to pull yourself out of. You really hope he doesn’t, because he doesn’t seem to be dealing with the same thing – flashbacks, panicking, hyperventilating.

What does it say about you that you are?

But once you get back from Germany, the panic attacks (you’re pretty sure that’s what they are – the symptoms seem to match, at least) subside. You relax back into your friend group, and even though school is more stressful than ever, things feel normal. You feel… fine.

Until Mark finds that article.

There’s a lot on your plate. Even before you got your spidery abilities, you were involved in a lot of things, most of which you haven’t given up because if you did that, a lot of people would get suspicious (or disappointed, which is almost worse).

You and Mark used to just not patrol on AcaDec practice or competition days. You also wouldn’t patrol on nights before big tests, or when you stayed late at the lab to finish something up. But now you do.

It isn’t that article, specifically, that causes you to double down on yourself and work harder than ever. That article was just about stupid things you can’t control, which basically consists of every ability you got after the spider bite. No, it’s the other articles, the ones that point out crime rates increasing and Spiderman and Silk not having enough of an effect on them, that first spawn the problem.

(You’re a hypocrite. You know that. You tell Mark to stop reading the articles because they’re bad for his health, but you read them too. You’re just better at hiding it.

It’s somehow addictive, reading the sickening things that people like to write about the two of you. It’s bad for you, and you know it. But you just can’t stop.)

Stress is a sneaky thing. It’s almost impossible to realize just how stressed you are, you think, until it’s too late. Johnny, when he was at university, put on a confident face for three weeks before midterms and then had a breakdown the day after he finished.

The same thing is happening with you, but you don’t notice it for a long time. The fact that crime rates are increasing just rests in the back of your mind, fueling the extra hours of patrol you do every night, even when you have tests or practice or research papers to write. Not to mention all your homework, too.

The rational part of your mind logically explains away the increasing crime rates. International-scale problems started increasing after the Avengers Initiative became public in 2012 because people believed they could go up against the Avengers and win. They drew the attention of aliens and evil public figures. It’s probably a similar thing here in Queens – people believe they can go up against you and Mark and win. You’ve caught their attention because you have the potential to take down malicious plans.

But what about the crime in other parts of New York, the places you can’t get to? Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. Queens is big enough on its own. You can’t tackle Staten Island, Manhattan, Brooklyn, and the Bronx too.

What do people even want you to do? Everyone always says to just do your best and that’ll be enough, but why is it that once you get a few new abilities, that suddenly isn’t the case?

You can’t save everyone. As much as you want to, you’re only one person.

You can’t.

Then the first panic attack after Germany happens.

You’re at home. You don’t even feel terrible. There are no flashbacks or anything to trigger it, so maybe you don’t have PTSD.

(That conjecture is the one good thing that comes out of this panic attack.)

You’re just lying in your bed, resting for a bit before you go out to patrol, when it suddenly feels like your chest is constricting and you can’t breathe.

Time doesn’t seem to flow. Your heart beats wildly, you’re hyperventilating, and you honestly think you’re about to die. When you finally come out of it, your phone tells you you’ve been stuck in your head for ten minutes.

It felt like so much longer.

You should probably call off patrols tonight. Your mind feels exhausted and you can barely drag your suit out from under your bed, but a recent article eggs you on – crime rates have been spiking recently, and New York’s newest spider vigilantes don’t seem to be doing much for it – so you wave Mark off when he asks if you’re okay and swing into the fading afternoon light.

The next day, you drag yourself to school feeling physically and mentally wiped out (someone decided a rape was necessary at around one in the morning, and you can still feel the poor girl trembling under your hands as you walked her to the nearest hospital) and you sit yourself down for a history test that will determine half of your semester grade.

It’s fine. The test is fine. You get an A, anyway. But the second you walk out of class, the chest pains start coming in again, and you all but sprint to the bathroom to safely panic in one of the stalls.

You’re not fine. You’re definitely not fine. A week later, someone bangs a locker door shut a little too loudly and you barely make it to the bathroom before you start hyperventilating. It’s like the world won’t fucking stop.

Then during winter break, there’s the fight with Johnny.

. . .

You don’t usually fight with your older brother. When you were younger and your parents were still alive, maybe. But after they died, the two of you only had each other, so the fights more or less stopped. Sure, there are the occasional petty spats that devolve into laughter and hugs, but that’s all.

Johnny isn’t stupid, you know. Even with speedier healing than normal, there are still sometimes cuts on your face and bruises on your arms that he can see. And one day, as you two sit down to dinner, he brings them up.

“So, what exactly do you do with your Stark grant?” he asks a bit too casually.

“Oh, I’m working on trying to synthesize that degradable plastic I started on with Wang,” you reply as coolly as possible. “Stark’s got a lot more supplies in his departments than Wang does, and for the most part, he lets Mark and I use whatever we need.”

“He really trusts you a lot,” Johnny says.

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod.

“Okay, I’ll cut the crap.” Your brother sighs, putting down his chopsticks. “I don’t like your Stark grant… internship thing, Y/N.”

Several thoughts fly through your mind, but first and foremost is what the fuck?

“W… why?”

“You’ve been hiding things from me ever since you started with him.” Johnny gestures to your face and your arms. “There’s no way you could get scratches or bruises like that from working in a lab. I don’t know what Stark is doing, or whether or not you’re a willing participant in… whatever it is, but if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have you working there anymore.”

“I’m not doing anything dangerous!” you protest, even though you know that’s a lie. Well, it’s not really in relation with your Stark internship. “I’m just – clumsy!”

“Clumsy is Mark’s thing, not yours,” Johnny snaps. “Why are you lying to me?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect –

“Why do you want me to give up the best opportunity that’s come to me in years?” you retort, pushing your chair back.

“You want to talk about giving up things?” Your brother stands up, eyes blazing. “I gave up everything after Mom and Dad died!”

Something cold settles in your stomach. It’s just as you feared. Johnny’s given up so much, and what have you done? Compared to him, you’re so selfish for taking the opportunities that land in your path – AcaDec, working with Wang and now Mr. Stark.

But you can’t give up what you’re doing with Stark. He’s been teaching you and Mark how to repair your suits, but you can’t do it alone just yet. You need to keep learning. You need to keep going.

How can you explain this to Johnny without revealing everything?

A tear slips out of your eye before you realize. Johnny looks slightly stricken, like he didn’t mean to say what he did, but you can’t look at him. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Sorry that…” You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, you just know that you have to.

Then it clicks. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything,” you say around the lump in your throat. “If I could, I would. But I can’t.”

If anything, Johnny looks even more upset and confused than before. “Why can’t you tell me?” he asks, voice softer.

“I just can’t,” you say again, trying to convey just how impossible this whole situation is. “It’s not Mr. Stark’s fault. It’s not anything I’ve been doing with him. It’s just me. I… you can’t understand. Not now.”

“I think I should be the judge of that,” Johnny replies.

You shake your head firmly. “Not this time.”

Silence reigns. Your unfinished dinner bowls stand on the table, forgotten.

“I’ll tell you at some point,” you say, biting your lip hard. “You don’t have to trust me. I know how shady this all sounds. I’m not selling drugs or doing anything like that.” You try to breathe calmly. “I’m not going to stop my work with Mr. Stark. It’s important to me. I can give up other things, just not that.”

“Why?” Johnny’s talking again with an acid bite to his voice. “Is he like a father to you now?”

At that, you really flinch. “What?”

“Are you seriously replacing Dad with Tony Stark?” he snaps.

Your brain processes his words.

“What the fuck?” Now you’re angry too, and it’s taking all your effort not break literally anything in the room. Your fists clench into your sides so hard you can feel your nails biting into your palms. “How – how dare you?”

Johnny just looks at you like you’ve betrayed him. “It’s clear to see, Y/N.” His voice is softer, though no less cutting. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Memories of your own father flash through your head. You don’t know what Johnny is even thinking, but there is no way you could ever replace him. “You’re wrong,” you snap quietly. “You’re completely wrong.”

Then you walk to your room and slam the door shut.

The rest of winter break is awful. Neither you nor Johnny will apologize, and you spend a lot of time crying or heaving on your bed. It doesn’t feel like anything could get worse.

Then Mark gets himself shot.

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