#kind of expanding on how some of the only moments hes momentarily taken by surprise in the film are the tw times cairo pulls the gun on him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imtrashraccoon · 5 months

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The spicy chapter has arrived! I am not sorry for that one... I would classify this one as a sweet kind of spicy though, rather than a hot spicy if that makes sense.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Horror - Pepper

Word Count: 2,201

"Okay, now we just need to add a teaspoon of pepper and combine everything," you said.

Axe nodded and went to rinse off his hands in the sink while you got the pepper container out of the cupboard.

For whatever reason, the lid was screwed on a lot tighter than you remembered and you struggled to get it off. Unfortunately, you applied a bit too much effort and the cap came off the jar suddenly. You fumbled the little glass jar and a bunch of pepper spilled out onto the countertop.

You couldn't help but sneeze, no doubt because of the mini explosion that sent the pepper into the air. Your nose was itchy and now your eyes were watering as well. So you tried to get away and back up a few steps, only to bump into Axe who was suddenly behind you. You gasped in surprise and he placed his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

"what was that?" he asked.

You wiped your eyes on your sleeve and sniffed to try and clear your nose again. "I accidentally inhaled some pepper and sneezed. I'm alright now though," you responded.

"that was adorable...do it again!"

You balked and glanced up at him in confusion. His singular red eyelight was at least twice the size it was normally and he looked absolutely enraptured right now.

"No? Sneezing isn't adorable, it's annoying at best..." you answered slowly.

He actually had the audacity to look disappointed that you couldn't sneeze on command. His eyelight returned to it's normal size pretty quickly though and you were momentarily fascinated by the implications of how that worked.

He sighed and let go of your shoulders. "too bad, it was small and cute...like you..." He had a bit of a mischievous look on his face all of the sudden and if you didn't like him, you would've gotten really annoyed that he had called you short, again.

You rolled your eyes and went to go clean up the pepper you'd accidentally spilled. "You're on thin ice, big guy..." you warned, although there was no real malice in your tone.

Axe didn't reply and you could feel him watching you while you measured out the required amount of pepper. Once you'd given the stew a quick stir and plopped the lid on, you turned on the pressure cooker so it would cook.

Turning to Axe, you placed your hands on your hips and smiled in satisfaction. "So, in a few hours, we'll have some amazing beef stew to eat. Thanks for your help by the way, it would've taken a lot longer by myself."

He nodded quietly but continued studying you. He kind of looked like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should.

So, you decided to give him a little encouragement and placed your hand on his arm. "What's on your mind?" you asked gently.

He didn't say anything for a moment longer. His eyelight lingered on your hand before flicking back up to your face. Then, he took a step closer and practically scooped you up into his arms.

You let out a squeak of surprise and scrambled to steady yourself, with your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. Then, you realized that you were basically nose to nose with him and to your shame, you froze like a deer in the headlights.

He stared back at you and his permanent grin grew wider the longer he did so. The center slit in his eyelight expanded and contracted briefly until he seemed to make up his mind about something. He then proceeded to carry you into the living room and sat down on the couch with you in his lap.

You finally managed to recover and find your voice again. "Um, Axe...? What are you doing?" you asked in a small voice.

He blinked and his eyelight refocused on your face. He seemed to realize that you were a little uncomfortable and his cheekbones flickered with a cobalt blue glow.

He cleared his nonexistent throat and let go of you. "...sorry... i got carried away..." he murmured.

You sat back on your haunches slightly so you weren't as close and so you felt like you could breath easy again. "I'm not mad," you started to say. "You just scared me a little..."

His bonebrows furrowed with concern and he quickly looked away from you. "i didn't mean to scare ya... i just... i wanted to hold ya so bad..."

Well, now you were a bit torn. He looked so ashamed, like a dog caught stealing a bone, and you couldn't be actually upset with him. Still, he should've at least asked before just scooping you up like that.

You decided that you'd rather ignore how awkward this situation was and move on. He had apologized afterall and you didn't think he'd had any ulterior motives from what you could tell. There wasn't anything wrong with just holding someone you cared a lot about, as long as they actually wanted to at least. Well, you didn't mind snuggling up to him normally, so why not now?

"Did you want to cuddle then?" you asked.

Immediately, Axe's gaze locked with your own and he seemed to scan your face for any indication that you were messing with him. Finding none, he grinned and started to reach for you again, but hesitated.

"if you're sure?"

You rolled your eyes and decided to give him some more encouragement. Leaning in again, you wrapped your arms around his vertebrae and gave him a warm hug.

He barely hesitated for a second before encasing you in a bear hug of his own. You held each other for several long minutes before gradually relaxing your grip on each other.

At some point, Axe started to rake his claws very gently across your scalp. You let out a hum of contentment and nuzzled against his collarbone in response.

"your hair's really soft," he murmured. His phalanges ghosted over your shoulders before he added another small comment. "not quite as soft as your skin but still..."

"I guess so, at least compared to a guy like you who's made of bones," you remarked. "Although you make up for it since you're all soft on the inside."

"maybe..." He didn't sound like he fully believed you but he wasn't denying anything either.

Axe kept running his phalanges through your hair and softly scratching your scalp for several minutes. When he lost interest in that, he shifted you in his hold so that he could make eye contact with you again. After a few seconds of staring, he brought his hand up and gingerly ran his knuckles over your cheeks. He really did seem fascinated by the texture of your skin, how it seemed soft yet spongy at the same time, and how warm it was too.

"i... i really like ya..." he murmured.

You could feel your heart skip a beat and you blinked in surprise, wondering if you'd heard him correctly. He was staring intently into your eyes and had stopped touching you at the moment. You hadn't even known him long, maybe a few months at most, but it felt like you'd known each other for far longer.

You'd suspected for a while that he had feelings for you and now that you knew for sure, you felt rather hopeful. Maybe it was silly, but you'd started to wonder if the small crush you'd developed for him was something you should act on or not. The problem was that you were so different from each other, both physically and otherwise, and you knew there were things he hadn't told you about himself yet.

"You do?" you asked quietly.

He smiled and nodded, "yes, i have for a little while too."

You could feel your cheeks grow warmer the longer you retained eye contact with him but you didn't mind in the slightest.

"I really like you too..." You hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do you...like me like that?"

He tilted his skull in a questioning way and the corners of his smile twitched slightly. "like what?"

"Like..." Your blush grew more intense as you tried to figure out how to explain what you meant. "Sorry... Do you like me enough to...be interested in a relationship...?"

He chuckled quietly and moved some of your hair behind your ears before even trying to respond. "i am...although it's still a bit early for that, right?"

You knew he was right but you couldn't help wondering. Still, it was reassuring that he hadn't rejected the idea entirely. Maybe when you'd gotten to know each other better he'd reconsider.

"Ah, no, you're right..." you murmured and glanced away.

Axe hummed and leaned closer to you. When you looked up slightly, he pressed his skull against your forehead and wrapped his arms around you in a gentle embrace.

"you're a special human...but you'll have to forgive me for not sayin' yes right now. and i don't ever want to hurt ya...but there's some things i'm not quite ready to tell ya."

You slowly wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him keep talking. It was disappointing, sure, but you were trying your best not to focus on his rejection too much right now. There was a first time for everything and being told "not yet" wasn't a bad thing considering everything you'd gone through.

"call me selfish all ya want, but i'd like to keep ya to myself and get to know ya a little while longer... i'm not used to domestic stuff like this, lil' chip..."

He finally pulled back slightly but continued maintaining eye contact with you. The edges of his single eyelight seemed fuzzy and his bonebrows were a little furrowed with concern.

You could feel the emotions he was going through just underneath the surface and for a moment, your own seemed rather insignificant in comparison. Here was a person who'd been through so much hardship and lost so many close friends to a tragedy he was powerless to prevent. Then there was you, a person who'd never actually struggled to have enough to eat and while you were certainly lonely, you'd never had to grieve over losing family or friends like he had many times over.

You would wait for him.

He was worth putting aside your selfish wants until he felt ready to say yes, however long that would take. You'd enjoyed his friendship so far anyways and you really hoped this conversation wouldn't make things awkward between you two. Spending time with him had become something you really looked forward to and helped you get through each boring work day. He was easily the best thing that had ever happened to you lately and there was no way in the world you were going to ruin this.

"In this instance, it's okay for you to be selfish, Axe. Besides, I wouldn't want to risk ruining this friendship by jumping into something before either of us are ready to. I'm glad I met you and I'm proud to count you as a good friend but if we decide anytime soon to become more than what we are now, I won't complain either."

He smiled and stroked your cheek in a tender way. "i'm glad i met ya too..." he murmured.

For a moment neither of you said anything else and just sat there studying each other. He seemed perfectly content to stare at you for hours and you wished you could know what went through his mind whenever he saw you. On the other hand, you generally hated maintaining eye contact for longer than a few seconds with people, but he was different. You really liked how expressive his eyelight was and how beautiful the deep red colour was.

"hey, uh, do you...?"

You made a questioning hum and tilted your head.

Axe seemed to get a little flustered and the blue glow grew darker while he struggled to find the words. "would you...? can we...?"

"You can just tell me what's on your mind, big guy..." you said.

"is it bad that i want to kiss you?" he finally asked.

You blinked in surprise and for a moment you didn't know what to do. You just knew you were blushing heavily the longer this moment went on but you needed to answer him.

"No? I don't mind if you do..."

He seemed surprised that you'd actually agreed and studied you for a moment. Then, he reached out and carefully cupped your left cheek, being mindful of his claws while doing so. He leaned closer and pressed his teeth against your lips in a careful but still tender kiss.

You hadn't known what to expect but it wasn't at all like kissing a human was like. It was gentle, simple, and kind of experimental. His bones were cool and dry to the touch, yet you could still feel the hum and warmth of his magic.

It was nice...

Axe pulled back slightly although he remained cupping your cheek for a moment longer. "you're really cute, ya know?" he hummed.

You chuckled softly, "You are too..."

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #horrortale #horror sans x reader #horror sans #reader #female reader #axe #have some empathy dear #oneshot

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angelamontoo · 2 years

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Herman+Joel cousin headcanon part IDK-Other potential character interactions/scenarios

•Joel meets Elaine through Herman(probably accidentally) and they get along well. Herman's a bit nervous about his criminal cousin and sister in law spending too much time together considering her very square husband can barely tolerate her being friends with Einstein himself nvm Einstein plus a second version of him who's just as much of a criminal, less agreeable and much more open about his 'unconventional tendencies'. It doesn't help that the first time Herm and Elaine were invited over to Joels for drinks, Herman left the room and returned to find Cairo in the middle of tipseley lecturing Elaine on why she should divorce Mortimer(she had mentioned that he leaves his dirty dishes lying around)

•Herman doesn't want Joel and Mortimer to meet incase Mort doesn't like Cairo and gets angry at Einstein for letting his poor innocent wife hangout with such an 'unscrupulous character', which would potentially get Jonathan angry with Mortimer for being rude to the doctor, which would potentially result in a lot of unpleasantness. If they do end up meeting anyway, I think Joel would make a comment about how 'you can really tell Jonathan and Mortimer are brothers', and both Brewsters would go completely numb for a brief moment. Einstein and Elaine would both try not to laugh

•On the one hand I like the idea of Herman and Brigid having met long before the events of aaol, but I also like the idea of their first meeting being while Herman's out with Elaine-presumably because there was some Brewster drama going on at the house that they decided to sit out. O shaughnessy(who was recently released from/escaped prison) sees Einstein, thinks he's Joel, storms up, slaps him, says something that only fully makes sense to her and Cairo and storms off. A moment of surprised silence passes before Elaine asks who that was and Herman tells her that he has no idea

•I really like the idea of Spade going to the Brewster home for some reason-perhaps because he heard that a man fitting Joel Cairos description was sighted in Brooklyn and he felt compelled to do something about it(Probably telling himself it has something to do with being mad that Cairo escaped justice and catching him is some kind of unfinished business). I just love the idea of Spade poking around the Brewster home with Mortimer floundering after him, terrified that this weird californian DIC is gonna find out about the 13 bodies in the cellar while Spades is so fixated on Cairo he remains oblivious to increasingly obvious evidence of the aunts and Jonathan's and the Doctor's crimes. Maybe not totally in character for Spade but I think it'd be funny

•I can sort of see Brigid and Joel being flirtatious with Elaine and Mortimer respectively and Mr and Mrs Brewster being surprised(and probably a little horrified in Morts case) to find they're both kinda into it

#yknow im not actually sure if you call your spouses siblings spouce your 'inlaw'#nvm your life partner who you cant legally marries adoptive and estranged brothers wife #but idk a better term so eh #also i do i think its pretty ooc to imagine Spade being so comically oblivious #but idk hes so capable and hard to keep down in TMF(which i enjoy mind you) i like the idea of spade making stupid decisions #especially if hes comically oblivious in some areas while still being an unflappable talented detective in others #kind of expanding on how some of the only moments hes momentarily taken by surprise in the film are the tw times cairo pulls the gun on him #the maltese falcon #joel cairo #arsenic and old lace #herman einstein #sam spade #jonathan brewster #elaine harper brewster #brigid o shaughnessy #mortimer brewster #lately ive spent my days feeling like a pint of blood was drained from me during the night

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theyrejustboys · 3 years

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Written for @tma-valentines-exchange

For @voiceless-terror, who requested fluff and pre-canon JonTim. I hope you enjoy it!

Read it on AO3 or under the cut!

Content Warnings: drinking, alcohol

Summary: Tim half expects Jon to be embarrassed, but he just blinks up at him, still apparently in the dazed, barely conscious state of waking. Then he stretches, arms reaching over his head and back arching slightly. He makes an honest to goodness squeak as he does. Exactly like a little cat. Tim wants to kiss him.

Oh. Tim wants to kiss him.

So it hadn’t just been the alcohol last night, then.

The first thing that Tim becomes aware of as he’s pulled unwillingly from slumber is the gentle weight pressing down on his legs. The second is the cold hand resting lightly on the strip of bare skin where his t-shirt has risen up in the night. He stirs reluctantly. When he finally opens his eyes, his bedroom is blurry, and he has to blink a few times to clear his vision and his head as the world forms in pieces around him. There’s a low thrumming in his skull that bears the potential of a fully fledged headache if not dealt with swiftly. Perhaps that’s why it takes him another few moments for the implications of the small body snuggled against him to set in.

He can’t see the face of the person in bed with him, not without turning and risking waking them up, but his memories from last night are pouring in too quickly to leave him with any doubt.

---

“Shame Sasha couldn’t make it,” Tim said, sliding into the booth across from Jon.

Jon nodded as he shrugged out of his corduroy jacket. “She’ll be missed,” he said, and if Tim hadn’t spent so long studying his facial expressions across his desk, he might not have noticed the slight upward quirk of his mouth.

“The first round shall be in her honor,” Tim said with only half Jon’s solemnity, lifting a hand to catch the waiter’s attention.

Jon let him order for the both of them, seemingly content to sit back and glance around the pub while Tim spoke. It was a quiet, if kitschy, little place, and Tim had chosen it strategically for that reason. He might not mind the atmosphere in some of London’s more crowded bars, but it had only taken one outing with Jon to realize how desperately uncomfortable that sort of chaos made him. He seemed appreciative of the location tonight, even gracing Tim with a reserved smile once the waiter had disappeared. Tim wanted to take that smile and store it in a treasure chest with all the other beautiful things Jon had offered him throughout their slow-blooming friendship. He smiled back.

“So, that case you were working on this week. Did you ever get past the hurdle with the widow?”

Jon leaned forward eagerly to explain his findings. Tim settled in to listen.

---

It’s Jon. Jon had come home with him. They’d both been too drunk to deal with the hassle of bundling Jon into a taxi, especially when Tim lived only two blocks behind the warm little pub they’d spent their Friday night in. It was convenient.

And now Tim is in bed with Jonathan Sims. Not just in bed, either - Jon is practically on top of him, with one leg slung over both of his own and the hand not resting against Tim’s hip nestled beneath the pillow Tim is lying on. If Tim is very still, he can feel the soft puff of Jon’s breath against his neck.

He resists the urge to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He’d suspected before last night that Jon was more tactile than he let on, but he hadn’t imagined he’d be this clingy.

He understands, of course, that Jon doesn’t feel safe often, that others have not allowed him the time to be cautious with his affection. It’s no secret in the research office that his snippiness and chronically furrowed brows have won him few friends. It’s taken Tim months of steady, gentle friendliness to break through Jon’s carefully prickly exterior into the softness he’d seen hiding beneath. It feels, in a way, like reaching a new level of a video game - once he’d gotten past the grouchiness, the wariness, and then the bashfulness, he’d unlocked the awkward but horribly endearing kindness. And cuddles, apparently.

It’s worth being patient for, worth earning. Tim’s chest feels tight with the weight of his fondness. He wants to pull Jon into his arms and hold him close like he had in the pub last night.

Before Tim can move, however, there's a mumble near his ear as he feels Jon shift. The leg draped over his own slides down. He hears a soft yawn, and then, before he can process that, Jon is rubbing his face into the back of Tim's shirt like a sleepy little cat. Tim grins and faces him.

"Good morning," he says.

Tim half expects Jon to be embarrassed, but he just blinks up at him, still apparently in the dazed, barely conscious state of waking. Then he stretches, arms reaching over his head and back arching slightly. He makes an honest to goodness squeak as he does. Exactly like a little cat.

Tim wants to kiss him.

Oh. Tim wants to kiss him.

So it hadn’t just been the alcohol last night, then.

Jon peers at him, apparently roused to alertness by whatever expression has taken over Tim’s face. "What?"

"Rest well?" Tim says in lieu of a response, because if he dwells on this development any longer he might do something foolish, like brush a hand through the wild mess of dark curls spread across both the pillow he had offered Jon last night and Tim’s own pillow.

"Yes," Jon says.

Ah, there's a touch of the primness Tim loves. “Glad to hear it,” he says, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll take the bathroom first, if you don’t mind.”

He thinks Jon burrows deeper into the blankets as he leaves the room.

Across the hallway, Tim stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror. His heart is beating a little too quickly. "Keep it cool, Timothy," he warns himself. Then he splashes some water on his face and knocks back a couple of ibuprofen tablets before he brushes his teeth. "All yours," he calls into the bedroom when he finishes. Jon makes an unintelligible noise in response, and Tim huffs out a soft, breathless laugh as he crosses the flat toward his kitchen.

---

“... but my landlord is utterly heartless,” Jon concluded, looking rather dejected as he finished off his third pint. “He wouldn’t budge on the no pets rule, even for the Captain.”

Tim made a quiet, sympathetic noise, handing back Jon’s mobile after having admired the extraordinarily fluffy cat on the shelter’s front page for an appropriate length of time. “I would have,” he vowed. “For the Captain. Anything for him.”

Jon’s eyes shone briefly, and Tim wondered if he was going to cry. He just sniffed with marginally less dignity than usual and accepted the mobile. “Yes, well,” he said after taking a beat to gather himself. “You’re nice. Of course you would.”

“You think I’m nice?” Tim grinned, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hand.

“Yes,” Jon said simply.

“Careful, Jon, if you keep up this sweetness I’ll have no choice but to hug you.” Tim was only half-joking.

Jon ducked his head and mumbled, “Well. You could.”

“What?” For a moment, Tim thought he’d misunderstood.

“I said you could.” Jon didn’t look up at him. “If you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.”

Tim could feel his cheeks begin to ache from the force of his smile. He stood quickly and slid into the opposite side of the booth. Jon didn’t pull away as he moved closer, only sat looking at him expectantly from the corner of his eye. “Bring it in, then,” Tim said, and he draped one arm around Jon’s narrow shoulders.

Jon sat stiff and awkward at first contact, but then he melted against him. He rested his head in the crook beneath Tim’s collarbone, sighing so softly Tim could barely hear it over the quiet clatter of the pub. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Tim asked. His voice came out a bit strangled from the sudden warm pressure in his chest.

“For being a nice person,” Jon said with a trace of his familiar exasperation but none of the spikiness. As if it were obvious, as if Tim could see it if only he paid attention.

Tim had been paying attention for a while now. He thought he understood what Jon meant. “Of course,” he said. He didn’t pull away. Neither did Jon.

---

He’s measuring out flour into a glass bowl when he hears Jon pad into the kitchen, and for one exhilarating second Tim wonders if he’s going to hug him from behind. He doesn’t. Tim lingers over the bowl for a few breaths more, then turns to face him. “I’m making muffins,” he announces.

Jon looks surprised. “You bake?”

Tim is momentarily distracted by the way Jon’s hair is piled on top of his head, wrangled into what might generously be called a bun. There are strands hanging around his cheekbones that Tim desperately wants to tuck behind his ears. He clears his throat and tosses a grin over his shoulder as he faces his mixing bowl again. “Why Jon, did you not notice the stupendous cakes I’ve brought to every office party this year? Of course I bake.”

“Oh,” Jon says. “I don’t usually stick around those long enough to eat anything.”

“You will once you’ve had a taste of my baking skills,” Tim promises. “These are going to be the best muffins you’ve tasted in your life.”

“My expectations are high,” Jon says in his dry voice. Months ago, Tim might have thought he was mocking him, but now he recognizes it for the friendly teasing it is. It makes something warm and lofty expand in his chest. Then, a moment later Jon asks, “Can I help?”

Tim opens his mouth to say no, that he’s a guest and should sit down and relax while Tim takes care of everything. He glances over again as Jon steps closer, fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie. It’s too long, dangling a few centimeters past his fingertips.

It’s Tim’s hoodie, he realizes with a start. His mouth shuts with a click. He wants to stare at Jon. He wants to turn his face away in case his adoration is too obvious. He still wants to kiss him.

Jon just watches him, picking restlessly at the fabric. He almost looks hopeful. Oh.

Tim gestures with his head toward the fruit basket on the countertop. “Dice an apple for me?”

“Sure.” Tim can hear the smile in his voice.

They work quietly for a few minutes, the only noise coming from the soft click of Jon’s knife against the cutting board and the muted sound of Tim’s whisk in the bowl. Once the fruit is mixed in with the batter, Jon watches as Tim carefully measures equal portions into his muffin tin and slides them into his oven. Tim has a sudden urge to turn on some music, to see if Jon might let him wrap his arms around him and spin him beneath the dim kitchen light.

“How much do you remember from last night?” Jon asks before he can.

Tim leans against the countertop. “Everything,” he says. Then he hesitates. “I think,” he adds nervously. “We weren’t that drunk, were we? Why do you ask?” He would have remembered if he’d -

Jon crosses the floor to the little table in Tim’s entryway. He has a habit of dropping his things there when he walks inside each evening, keys, wallet, and whatever else has accumulated in his pockets throughout the day. Jon rummages in the clutter before waving a short, shiny strip of paper triumphantly.

“Oh,” Tim says. No, he hadn’t forgotten that at all. “Right.”

---

Jon was the one who had pointed out the photo booth. Tim knew it was there - he’d spent a couple of tipsy evenings in it before. The last time had been with Danny. Maybe that memory was the reason he hadn’t brought it up to Jon. Maybe it was just that he didn’t think Jon was the sort to relax enough to enjoy something as trivial and objectively silly as a photo booth.

But Jon herded him away from their table and into the little box at the back of the pub with the same determination he directed toward his work, drawing the black curtain closed as Tim fiddled with the buttons. It smelled vaguely of wine inside. Jon didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve never done this before,” Jon confessed. He’d had enough drinks by now that there was an airy quality to his voice. He suppressed a yawn. “But I’ve always wanted to.”

“Really?”

Jon nodded. “Never had anyone to do it with,” he said, sounding almost ashamed.

Tim decided not to point out that wasn’t the part he’d been surprised about. “You have me,” he said, settling back as the countdown began for the first photo.

Jon stared at the camera, head tilted slightly as he arranged a smile on his face. “Yes,” he said, then jumped at the flash. The countdown began again. Jon moved closer to Tim, brushing their arms together. “I do have you. I’m glad for that.”

Tim faltered, turning from the camera to look at Jon. Jon glanced up at him, and the careful smile on his face faded to something softer, gentler. Tim’s breath hitched. He’d like to kiss Jon like this, he realized, when he’s open and vulnerable and trusting. He leaned down slightly, suddenly breathless as he lifted a hand to cup Jon’s cheek. “Jon -”

The second camera flash made them both flinch hard, and Jon let out a startled noise that was almost a laugh, hiding his face in the collar of Tim’s shirt as if embarrassed. Tim laughed too, though he could barely hear himself over the pounding in his ears. He let his hand slide around the back of Jon’s head, cradling him, as if that was what he’d meant to do all along. He wondered if Jon could feel his heart thudding against his chest.

Before the last flash lit up the booth, Tim closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into Jon’s hair.

---

“I told you, you’re adorable,” Tim crows.

Jon splutters again, looking down at the photos in his hand in disbelief. “I’m an adult,” he says petulantly. “I can’t be adorable.”

Tim gasps, affronted. “Jonathan Sims! Are you putting an age limit on adorableness ? Please tell me you aren’t suggesting that I can’t be adorable.”

“I didn’t say that,” Jon grumbles.

“Good. I didn’t want to fight for my honor before breakfast.” Tim smirks at him and hopes the teasing is enough to distract from the painfully obvious yearning in his eyes on the strip of photo paper. His hand itches to take it from Jon, to cover up what feels practically like a confession, but he forces himself to be reasonable.

His oven timer beeps, drawing him from his nervous thoughts, and he busies himself tending to the muffins. Mercifully, Jon sets the photo strip aside to rummage in Tim’s cabinets for a pair of plates.

They migrate to the couch and eat quietly. Jon admits that Tim’s baking skills are rather spectacular, and Tim preens a normal amount. He wants to hug Jon again, but he resists. Whatever ease with which Jon had touched Tim the night before seems to have faded. His posture seems a bit stiffer, and he keeps his hands tucked closely in his lap, though Tim does catch him casting contemplative glances his way when he thinks he isn’t looking. He wonders how long it’s been since Jon has received affection.

Jon should receive affection always, Tim thinks, and should be held gently at each opportunity. He hopes he’s given another opportunity to hold Jon soon. He doesn’t push for it, though, doesn’t want to make Jon uncomfortable. He’s waited months to earn the trust he’s been allowed so far; he can be patient again.

“Tim,” Jon says after they’ve sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Yes?” Tim gives him an encouraging smile.

“I’ve - I’ve had a lovely time.” Jon doesn’t meet his eyes.

“That’s the Stoker guarantee,” Tim says with a smirk, though his chest twinges uncomfortably. There’s a but in there.

Jon takes a deep breath. “Yes. Well. Thank you. And - that is, I wanted to say…” He pauses. Opens his mouth and shuts it again.

That feeling in Tim’s chest is sinking lower. He waits.

Jon shifts abruptly, turning to fully face him on the couch. “Tim,” he says.

“Jon,” Tim answers quietly.

And then Jon surges forward and presses a chaste kiss into Tim’s jaw.

"Oh," Tim says. His hand flies up to touch his face.

Jon scrambles backward, blushing deeply. “Yes. Well,” he says again. “That’s all. Sorry, I should have -”

“Jon,” Tim says, “can I hug you?”

Jon makes another one of his soft little squeaks and nods wordlessly before tumbling forward into Tim’s arms. After a moment, he curls himself up smaller, wiggling onto Tim’s lap so as to better cling to him. Tim, very carefully, does not move except to tighten his hold on him.

“If you’re amenable,” Jon finally says, voice muffled in Tim’s shirt, “I would like to do this again sometime.”

Tim stifles a laugh. “And by this, you mean…?”

Jon sits up slightly, though he pouts a bit as he does. “Drinks? Dinner? And then cuddles. And I would like you to hug me again as soon as possible.”

“I don’t have to stop hugging you,” Tim points out. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay right here -” He pats his lap for emphasis. “For as long as you like.”

“You don’t mind?” Jon asks, peering up at him.

“Do I need to convince you how much I like hugging you?”

Jon considers. “No. But you could demonstrate anyway.”

Tim does.

#tma valentine's exchange #jontim #tmafic #geo writes

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subbing-for-clones · 3 years

Text

The Alpha and The Omega Part 1

Alpha!Maul x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: A Jedi Padawan prepares for her trials to become a knight but learns something new about herself that leads to her having to leave the order. With a fear of the large galaxy and a new, unexpected companion she has to learn to live with herself and how to survive an unforgiving environment.

WARNINGS: fear, going into heat (no sex), nudity. A/B/O dynamics

A/N: Maul is not actually in this chapter. He shows up in the next just so everyone is aware. This chapter establishes what my version of an alpha and omega are. No y/n

NEXT MASTERLIST

You had never been so hungry in your life. Master Plo Koon, Master Qui Gon Jinn and your fellow padawan Obi Wan all watched you in various levels of amazement and bewilderment as you worked on your third helping of whatever kind of stew the cafeteria had prepared. Your master however, was chuckling under his de-oxygenator.

“Are you alright little one?” Qui Gon asked with a brow quirked. If you paid attention, you’d have guessed he was more impressed than his horrified padawan at the immense amount of food you were consuming. You couldn’t pause between each spoonful long enough to answer him so your master spoke.

“For the last few days, she’s been utterly insatiable.”

“Are you quite sure you don’t have a parasite or something?” Obi Wan asked with a concerned frown. Your only response was shooting him a glaring look before continuing to eat ravenously. Clearing your bowl, you stood and went to drop off your empty dish with the rest of the dirty dishes followed by your friend.

“I am starting to become concerned for my padawan. At first I assumed that the rise in her nerves were caused by her upcoming trials for her knighthood but I’m not so sure.”

“What else is going on with her?” Qui Gon eyed you as you left the cafeteria followed by Obi Wan, no doubt to continue your studies.

“She’s always struggled with controlling some of her stronger emotions but she has made immense improvements over the years under my tutelage. However, the last few days it almost seems like she’s reverted back. She’s not outward with them in the least but I can sense them through our bond. She’s incredibly quick to anger and sadness specifically.”

Qui Gon furrowed his brows and sat pensively for a moment before asking, “you don’t think she could be pregnant, do you?”

“No, that’s not an option. She hasn’t left the temple in months except for her training mission on Hoth and it was just the two of us. Over the last few months, she has been fervently preparing for her trials bouncing back and forth between the archives, the meditation gardens and sparing with various willing masters. Even if she did find the time, with how emotional she’s been I would’ve sensed something but I don’t think she even has any idea what’s going on.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I’ve always liked her and appreciated her friendship with my padawan. Have the healers take a look at her if you can convince her to let them.”

“Yes, that might be a good idea.”

You had in fact spent the remainder of the evening in the archives with your long-time friend Obi Wan attempting to study while dodging his various inquiries to your condition. At the end of the night, you fought the urge to slam the doors behind you while you urged him for the hundredth time that you were fine. Walking back to your sparse room in the living quarters you realized that you were in fact not fine. You had never felt anything but safe living here at the temple, surrounded by your peers and masters. Now though, a sense of dread formed in the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t the slightest clue as to why. Yes, your trials were approaching in the following months but you felt completely prepared for them.

Your skin felt hot under your robes and the second you entered your private quarters you stripped out of them, hopping through a quick cold shower. It only granted you a temporary relief and by the time you left the ‘fresher you were burning up and feeling way too exposed, even within the confines of your small room. You watched your hands pull the mattress off of its rails and onto the floor. Gathering up all of your spare blankets and robes you had, you bunched up a makeshift perimeter along the edges before climbing into the center and curling up, not bothering to dress before-hand.

Rest did not come to you that night. You woke frequently in cold shakes and waves of fear despite your best efforts to push them away, panic always on the edges of your mind and intense cramping in your abdomen.

The following morning when you had not come down for your first meal Master Plo reached out to you through the force, when he sensed your terror, he practically ran back to the living quarters, banging on your door. When you only answered with chocked whimpers, he unlocked the door with the force and drew his lightsaber. His initial worry was sated momentarily finding that you were alone but was quickly replaced when he saw the state you were it.

You lay in the center of your clumsily made ‘nest’ naked and covered in a thin sheet of sweat shivering violently. The only sounds that left you were terrified, incoherent mumbles, eyes widened in alarm.

“M- master… help me. I -… I don’t know what.. what’s happening,” you sobbed.

Plo removed his large brown cloak and quickly covered you with it. When you were properly concealed, he lifted you in his arms and rushed to the healers. Utterly confused by your state.

Hours of examinations and blood tests did nothing to sate your unease but did well to expand it. You had begged your master to stay by your side, clutching onto the one person you felt remotely safe around. He only left when one of the healers came to your bedside and beckoned him away with a worried look in her eye. It took several attempts to assure you that he would be right back, utter panic setting in once again once he left but you could feel the waves of tranquility he sent you through the force.

“What do her blood reports show?” he asked with his arms crossed.

“Well master that’s where it gets kind of tricky. She seems to be exhibiting symptoms of a heat cycle.”

“But, humans don’t go through heat cycles. Wait, do they?” Plo asked.

“No, they don’t. I tested her for exposure to various strains of the sex pollen but they all came up negative. To ease her pain, I gave her a dose of a common suppressant that some of our resident Jedi use to help their own cycles but it didn’t take. That led me to perform a genome test.”

“And did you find anything?”

“Yes, she has the Omega gene.”

“Oh… Oh. Well, that is, unfortunate...”

“She’s terrified and feeling exposed. I wanted to tell you first so you could decide if she should hear it from you or me. She seems to feel safest with you.”

Plo thought for a moment, “I think I should tell her.”

“What the fuck is an Omega gene?!” you were still shaking, trying to fight off the arousal that had taken root in your belly that swirled with your fright.

“It is an uncommon genome; its sole purpose is to ensure survival of a species. Most commonly men develop the Alpha and women the Omega although there are records of it being the other way around. Almost every species in the galaxy has at least a few Alphas and Omegas.”

“And the suppressants didn’t work because..?”

“Because it is stronger than a common heat cycle. It is a mutation that developed not just to ensure frequent breeding but survival of a species on a grand scale.”

You broke out into uncontrollable sobs; when your master tried to soothe you with a touch to your shoulder you jumped and growled at him, surprising you both before falling back into your distress.

Over the following weeks you could feel the change in your peers’ attitude towards you. They would snicker if you passed by and taunt you silently behind your back. You could feel the unease the masters felt when you came into close proximity. Even Master Qui Gon was hesitant around you. You did however still have Obi Wan. Still the loyal friend he had always been.

It took more searching than you thought but with his help you were able to find information cataloged by only one author.

“Did you really build a nest?” he asked, void of any judgement, looking over your shoulder at the writings.

“Yes, I did,” you said without taking your eyes off of the tome. “It says here that its genetic and pops up every few generations…”

“Your birth mother probably had no idea.”

“No, I don’t suppose she did. It says here I have scent glands? On my neck, my wrists, between my breasts and on my hips..” Obi wan leaned in and gave you an undignified sniff, you smacked him away.

“I can’t smell anything, just that minty shampoo you like so much.”

“That’s because you’re not an Alpha bantha brains,” you flustered.

“You don’t need to be rude about it,” he chuckled, “I’m just trying to lighten the mood here. You’ve been so sad since you found out. What, your heat will come once every few months right? It can’t be that bad.”

“It really is terrible; you have no idea. It’s not even the heat that I’m worried about.”

“Well, what has you so worked up then?”

“It says here that being an Omega is dangerous, the Alphas are often times violent and that they can smell me long before they see me… I’m safe here at the temple but what if they kick me out of the Order?”

“You’re not going to be kicked out.”

“I very well could be!” you pushed yourself out from behind the desk and huffed, “being a Jedi means no attachments, be one with the force, calm and collected, rational and compassionate. I am none of those things when the heat comes and no suppressants can stop it. What if it’s enough to pull me to the dark side? What if the council decides I am too big of a risk to everyone here to keep me around? Needs of the many always outweigh the needs of the few.”

Sure enough, it was less than a week before the council called you to stand before them. The room was silent, the faces that painted the members was grave. You could tell that whatever decision they came to was a long argued one. It was the look on your Master’s face that made a sadness ring through your heart.

“Do you know why we called you here?” Master Windu asked.

You inhaled deeply and sighed, “I think I have an idea..”

“Please understand padawan that if we had known you were an Omega, we wouldn’t have recruited you to the Order. We simply can’t have an Omega or an Alpha within our ranks.”

“I…I think I understand Master.”

“Understand how you feel, we do.” The Grandmaster said with a grave tone and a nod.

“Forgive me Master but, no, you don’t. With reason or not, I have had my birth family cast me out into your care because I was force sensitive and now, my second family does the same because of a gene I carry.” Your eyes flashed angrily. Abandoned again because of what you were. “I will gather my things and be gone before nightfall,” you turned on your heel and strode out of the council chambers, leaving the heavy sighs behind you as you fought tears.

When you finally reached your quarters the dam broke. Fat tears and wailing sobs poured out of you while your heart bled. Fear, pain, self-disgust all swirling in your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do, where you were going to go. You barely heard the knock against your door while you tried to wipe the salty wetness from your eyes. When you composed yourself as much as you could you opened the door to your Master and Obi Wan, both looking solemn.

“May we come it?” your master asked. Standing aside you allowed them entrance. “I voted no. I don’t think the council is making the right choice in this matter.”

“Thank you Master but the result is the same, with all due respect,” you pushed past him and starting shoving your sparse belongings into a travel bag pausing only when your friend stood in your way.

“I-I’m going to miss you..” he looked down at his feet.

“Oh Obi,” fresh tears wet your lashes. “I’m going to miss you to,” you pulled him into a tight hug. “I know you still have a few more years before your trials but; you’re going to make a wonderful knight.” His only response was to hug you tighter.

“The council has allocated a small fund for you young one. Because of the nature of your departure and the fact that you never broke the code or did anything wrong…” Master Plo held out a large purse filled with credits, “I hope it’s enough to get you settled somewhere until you can find something to do..” you took the purse and wrapped your arms around your Master’s waist.

Thanking him silently for everything. For raising you, teaching you everything you knew and again for advocating for you. You gathered your one personal item aside from your clothes, a holo-pic Obi Wan had taken of you and your Master standing on a cliff overlooking the water on Naboo. At the time he said he took it because you looked like a knight with your straight back and hands clasped behind your back, mirroring Plo perfectly. You thought him silly at the time but now; you felt grateful.

Months later you found yourself waitressing in a dirty little cantina on one of the lower levels of the city. The credits given to you were enough to pay for a dingy little studio apartment and the owner of the cantina owed Qui Gon a favor for some reason. Giving you a job made them even. You were drifting through your new life. Every night you would show up in your too tight, too short uniform and serve various drunkards and bounty hunters. Every morning you would stumble your way back to your new home utterly exhausted. When your heat hit your boss was understanding enough to give you time off so you could cry and feel the terrible pain and loneliness in peace.

A few days after your last heat, the third one you had ever experienced; you were back to work. It was a pretty slow night. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm in the run-down little bar. You heard the door creak open while you were in the kitchen grabbing an order for a young starry eyed Rodian obviously new to the city. You looked around the kitchen smelling something strange, something incredibly strong, smokey and musky. It only got stronger when you dropped off the plate. Your eyes met the new customer’s, a lone Duro looked up at you from under the lip of a worn wide brimmed hat. A smile grew across his face as you approached cautiously.

“Hey there little lady. Where’s your Alpha?”

A serious trepidation squeezed your insides as you realized exactly what it was you were smelling. The man in front of you was an Alpha. There was no doubt about it, if he could smell you, it was true. Your feet moved faster than your brain and carried you out of the bar, ignoring your boss’s bellowing. You pounded into the duracrete until you reached your little room. Opening the door as quickly as you could with trembling fingers you slunk into a shadowy corner. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as the cool night breeze drifted through the window.

Window. As soon as you thought the thought his scent flowed through it, he followed right behind, slinging his lithe body through the opening. Standing silhouetted in the flickering streetlights, you backed up until you hit the door. His long leather trench coat fluttered around his calves. You could hardly process how he lifted his palms up to you and tried to calm you down.

“What in the seven hells’ the matter with you ‘mega?” you lifted your hand and force pulled your light saber into your grasp and ignited the blue blade.

“Whoa whoa whoa there little lady. Calm down I’m not gonna hurt you.. been a while since I seen another one a us. Outside Corellia at least.” His voice was smooth with a rasp to it, his eyes glowed bright red in the low lighting, your saber casting a blue glow over the room.

“Never seen a Jedi ‘mega before,” he started.

“I’m no longer a Jedi,” you spat. It was the first thing you could say to the Alpha before you.

“You gotta calm down girl. I told you I’m not gonna hurt you,” he was inching closer to you.

“What do you want with me?” you tightened your grip and clenched your teeth, causing him to halt again on the stained floor.

“Where’s your Alpha? I can’t smell him.”

“You’re the first one I’ve met.”

“Listen I wanna help. Obviously if you’re here the Jedi gave you the boot. I’m gonna go out on a limb here, they found out when the suppressors didn work on ya.”

You sheathed your blade and lowered your head in sorrow.

“How long you been on your own?”

“A few months,” you looked up and wished you were back in the temple. You missed the gardens, you missed the archives, you missed your friend.. The Duro eyed you carefully like he could read your history just from your face before he scrunched his eyes up in confusion.

“Diddn they even tell you shit or did they just give you a pat and ‘good luck’?”

Your lack of a response was response enough; he sighed and muttered curses under his breath.

“Listen, most of us Alphas aren’t dangerous. We’re leaders, protectors. Omegas aren’t weak, you’re our second in command so to speak.” Your eyes widened at him. “I wanna help you.. I kinda feel like I have to. My mate would’ve if she was still around…” his eyes dimmed, “some of the Alphas can be shitty but it’s the others you gotta worry about. Slavers like buying your kind up and sellin em to the highest bidder. Sometimes they got a paid Alpha to sniff you out, some of em got hounds that can pick out your scent. If you stay here, you’re sittin pretty an ripe for their pickin.”

“What happened to your Omega?” your voice was quiet and cautious. You didn’t know if you could trust him or not but if he found you, others would be able to soon too.

“Trandoshans… I was off on a hunt; left her at home. Thought it was too dangerous for her to come with… I tried to find her, looked everywhere, called in every favor, went broke on bribes… never found her.”

Some primal, instinctual part of your heart broke for him. You had no idea what it was like to have a mate but you thought you’d rather die than lose yours and the look on his face confirmed that, he would too.

“Look, take it or not but this is me reaching my hand out. Tryin to make sure that what happened to her, doesn’t happen to you. Bounty huntings lucrative if you nab the right contracts. I can get you set up… the moving around ‘s safer than sitting still.”

You thought for a few minutes, pondering the information this man dumped on you all at once. Your Jedi brain told you not to trust him; that this guy was bad news, but you weren’t a Jedi anymore. They were the reason you were sitting here trying to decide if you could trust him or not. So, you listened to your Omega gut and it told you to go with him; and that’s what you did.

You spent a year with Cad Bane and if you were being honest, it was the best year of your life. He introduced you to the Bounty Hunters Guild by the name ‘Mega. Told you if they found out you were a former Jedi you wouldn’t get contracts so you went with it. There was even a whole house of the guild that was dedicated to Alphas and Omegas a secret little society that you had been welcomed into. He taught you how to use a blaster, damn well too. Your light saber was a hidden last resort to use only if you were about to be killed and you left no survivors. The two of you galivanted across the galaxy bringing in dangerous, high paying bounties.

He taught you about the sub culture of the Alphas and the Omegas and helped explain some of the odd tendencies you showed but didn’t understand. He was respectful during your heat and let you wait it out locked in the cabin while he slept in the cockpit. Occasionally you’d ask him to put a hand on the back of your neck to cool you down. His cold-blooded hands were the perfect ice pack for your fevered skin.

Not once did he ever try to scent you. To say he was friendly though would’ve been a lie. You had a companionable silence most of the time. You could count the times you made him smile on one hand. Most of which were when you got extra rough with a difficult quarry. The only other time was when some guy tried to hit on you in a cantina while you and Bane celebrated the largest reward you had ever gotten. You pressed the barrel of your blaster into his balls so hard, without even looking at him, he cried. Life was… good. Life was actually good. After the costs of resupply and fuel he gave you half of whatever was left over.

That’s how you got to where you were now. On Corellia in a ship yard looking to buy your own transport. Bane had introduced you to the Guild Master on this planet, long having gained membership with him as a sponsor and you got yourself a few of your own pucks. He stood beside you now as you tossed the credits to the seller and loaded up your new; well new to you, ship.

“Better than my first ship that’s for damn sure,” Bane said as he walked around it. It wasn’t large, it wasn’t small either, but it had a kitchenette, a cabin and a carbon-freezing chamber in the small cargo bay below deck. “That freezers gonna let you pick up a few bounties at a time,” he noted, leaning against the doorframe of the cabin, watching you put away your clothes and setting up the holo-pic of you and Plo by the large bed.

“That’s the plan. Move around as much as possible. Get rich on these dumbasses,” you moved to toss the pucks into your bag.

“Listen ‘Meg,” he straightened up, clenched his jaw and looked at the floor, “it was shitty goin for me for a long time. It’s gonna get shitty again and stay that way for the rest of my life but; well, you made it less shitty,” he was visibly uncomfortable.

“Don’t go getting all warm blooded on me now Bane,” you shot him a sad smile. You had to move on. He wasn’t your Alpha and you weren’t his Omega. You didn’t really think you would find a mate of your own but you could feel it through the force; as much as you relieved some of his stress, you made him miss his mate.

“Don’t get your hopes up sweetheart, I like you but not that much,” he smirked, “you got my commlink channel set up in there right?” his thumb pointed to the cockpit.

“Yeah I got it.”

“Don’t hesitate if you get in over your head kid. I mean it ‘Meg, don’t be so proud you go and get yourself killed.”

“I won’t, I promise Bane.”

“Good,” he walked over to you and for a second you thought he was actually going to hug you; what he did was a bigger shock. He took his hat off and placed it on your head. Your eyes widened to saucers and you looked at him almost confused. A grin cracked your lips when he pulled a new, bigger one out of no where and shrugged his shoulders.

“I like this one better anyway,” he turned to leave the hull but not before rasping out a “see you around ‘Meg, give em all seven hells out there,” over his shoulder.

You made your way to the cockpit, pulling Bane’s hat down tighter on your head and running your finger across the brim; watching him leave the shipyard through the view port with one last swish of his coat. You were sad to watch that gun slinging bastard go but thanked the maker he found you, thanked the maker that you followed him that night.

You ran through your preflight checklist and started her up ‘The Wolf.’ You liked the way it sounded. Pulling up into the atmosphere and punching in the coordinates for Lothal, the highest priced bounty in your current collection. You pulled back the lever, shooting you into hyperspace. You made your way back to your cabin and picked up the holo-pic of you and your master. You wondered what he was doing right now. If he had taken in a new padawan. You hoped he had; he was a wonderful master; the best you could’ve asked for. You wondered if he thought about you as much as you thought about him. You smiled, probably. He always had trouble not forming attachments. You set the picture back down and pulled another one out of your bag. You had tried to keep it a secret from Bane but you were sure he knew about it.

It was from the night you almost took off the nuts of the guy who tried flirting with you. You had bought a round for everyone in the small cantina out of your own pocket, you were so excited about taking down the biggest quarry the two of you had seen to date. Several beings of different species all raised a glass of various liquors in your honor while Bane faced the bar not looking at you, the smallest smirk on his face below the rim of the hat you were wearing now. The smile you had on in this picture might be the biggest you’ve ever made. You set it down next to the one of you and Plo and compared the two, hardly believing you were the same person. You weren’t, but they were both you.

You kicked your boots off and plopped down on the bed, arms crossed behind your head and the hat tilted over your eyes. This was it; this was living.

#maul x reader #darth maul #Star Wars AU #TPM au #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #no y/n #darth maul x reader #star wars #the phantom menace

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gryffindorcls · 3 years

Text

Plot Twist

Summary: Even though she still gets nervous around him, Marinette has been happily dating Adrien for several weeks. However, after agreeing to a mutual reveal with Chat Noir, Marinette postpones her date night with Adrien. Luckily, he also has plans with a friend that night.

Length: 7,178 words

Hello, lovely readers! This was written for the 2020 JV Art and Fic Trade on Discord. There is accompanying art for this fic by @supergirl9130. Be on the look-out for it soon! Enjoy!

(Shout out to my beta for this fic, @miss-congeniality-of-ml)

— AO3

Fanfiction

Marinette snuggled further into Adrien’s embrace, relishing in his warmth. In response, he kissed the crown of her head and sighed.

If someone had told her six months ago that she would be in this position, she would have laughed, cried, and then laughed again. Never in a million years did she actually think that Adrien Agreste would ask her out on a date, let alone want to become her boyfriend.

“Are you still feeling cold?” Adrien whispered into her hair. “Do you want me to get you a blanket?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay.”

“You say that now, but you always get cold again when I let go.”

“Then don’t let go.”

“As you wish, my love.” He held her even tighter, sending her heart into a frenzy.

Much to her chagrin, six weeks of dating still hadn’t taken away all of the nervousness that she felt around him. She quickly discovered that Adrien’s love language was all of them; as a result, he constantly showered her with affection, gifts, and attention. While most of the time Marinette didn’t know how much more her heart could take before it exploded, she’d never been happier.

Ever the gentleman, Adrien never showed her anything less than boundless patience whenever she became a blushing, stuttering mess in his presence. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it, and that only made matters worse.

Whenever she had a “Marinette Moment” (as he affectionately called it from time to time), he would simply smile, pull her into an embrace, and whisper reassuring words into her ear. Sometimes, his soothing would work, but other times it sent her heart off to the races, leaving her to slowly melt into a hyperventilating puddle.

“Marinette, breathe.” Adrien’s hand was running up and down her back. “You’re turning redder than you usually do.”

She wanted to kick herself.

It had happened again.

She hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding her breath this time. Shaking herself back into reality, Marinette exhaled and buried her face against Adrien’s collarbone, relishing in the soft cotton of his designer t-shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, slowly feeling the embarrassment fade away.

“You know that you never have to apologize when this happens.” He kissed her cheek. “Like I would really complain about having another opportunity to hold you in my arms.”

“Yeah, but it happens all the time.” Marinette pulled away, bit her lip, and looked down at her lap. “Aren’t you getting tired of it?”

Adrien took her hands in his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Never. I love everything that makes you, you.”

Had it not been for the warmth that filled her chest upon hearing his declaration, she would have combusted again, but instead, she pulled her hands away and launched herself into Adrien’s arms. “You’re amazing. How did I get so lucky?”

He nuzzled his cheek against the crown of her head. “I ask myself the same question every single day. You are not only the best girlfriend I could have asked for, but you are also the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. My only regret is that I didn’t ask you out sooner.”

Momentarily forgetting how to breathe, Marinette choked on her next intake of air. The coughing fit left her breathless and lightheaded.

So much for staying calm.

With sheer panic in his eyes, Adrien’s hands fluttered around her as she gasped for air. “Are you okay? Do you need water? What do I do? Please be okay!”

Taking a sharp intake of breath, Marinette managed to partially regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

The worry still hadn’t left his features. “You didn’t look fine. At least let me get you some water.”

Adrien hopped off of the couch and ran to the mini-fridge under his desk. Upon returning, he handed her a chilled water bottle and sat down next to her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He put his arm around her. “Did you choke on air again?”

She sighed. “No. It was your cuteness this time.”

“Oh, really?” The panic in his eyes melted away, leaving behind a dazzling smile. “Twice in one day. I’m on a roll!”

“You can’t just tell me that I’m the best girlfriend without warning me!”

“I can’t help myself. Complimenting you has become a hobby of mine.”

“Well, your hobby is going to kill me.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I’m serious! You’ve watched me launch objects across the room and trip on air when I’m around you. One day you’re going to be so adorable that I’m going to get spooked and fall to my death or something.”

“You know I’ll never let anything like that happen to you, right?” Leaning in close, his breath ghosted her cheek. “I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall.”

The heat moved to her ears. “Adrien…”

Using his index finger, he tilted her chin upward and captured her lips under his. “Okay, I’ll stop.”

“Thank you.” Satisfied, she returned the gesture with an even deeper kiss, eliciting a contented hum from her boyfriend’s throat.

“For now.” His mouth curled into a Cheshire grin as he pulled away from the kiss.

With a pout, Marinette stood up and made her way to the opposite side of the couch. After crossing her arms and sitting down with a playful huff, she turned her head and stuck out her tongue.

“Marinette!” Adrien jutted out his bottom lip and pressed his hands together. “Please come back! The couch is getting cold.”

“Nice try, Agreste. Those kitten eyes won’t work on me!” Marinette looked away and pointed her chin in the air. “Have fun sitting by yourself.”

“NOOO! You have to come back!” Marinette choked back a laugh, and Adrien held his hands up in surrender. “Fine! You win, my love.”

“Good.” She crawled across the couch and resettled herself against his shoulder. “Now, hold still. I’m tired after almost dying.”

“Oh, so now I’m nothing more than a pillow to you? I see how it is.”

“Shhh! Pillows don’t talk.”

“GASP!”

Marinette snorted. “Oh my God...did you really just say the word ‘gasp’?”

“So what if I did?” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her back to his side.

“Who even does that?”

“I do!”

“You are such a dork.”

“And you’re surprised?”

No.

At least not anymore.

On their first date, Adrien had spent thirty solid minutes trying to balance a salt shaker on its edge while gushing over his new favorite movie. As she watched him hunch his body over the table, stick out his tongue, and maneuver the salt shaker into the perfect position, Marinette realized that the person who had been taped all over her walls was Adrien Agreste, the perfect model and son, not the boy who sat before her.

No, this was not the Adrien who went to photoshoots, took perfect pictures, and sat up straight during interviews. This was not the Adrien who smiled politely when approached and shook hands with powerful men and women. This was not the fabricated Adrien from the magazine quizzes whose personality was defined by his favorite color and the brand of shampoo he used to wash his hair.

This was the Adrien who had swallowed his pride and admitted that he didn’t know how to make friends. This was the Adrien who had seen a girl standing in the rain and sacrificed his comfort by giving her his umbrella. This was the Adrien who loved video games, whose eyes lit up when he saw a plate of cookies. This was the Adrien she’d fallen in love with, the Adrien she’d lost sight of when her mind had been clouded by infatuation.

That night, Marinette rediscovered what love meant. She’d silently cursed herself for getting lost in the glossy, ten-page spreads and towering advertisements that brandished his face, for jumping to conclusions without knowing the full story.

At that moment, she vowed to learn the full story, to truly get to know the Adrien behind the flashing lights and perfect etiquette. She’d dreamed of a life with Adrien, but in actuality, she’d only dreamed of a life with the idea of him.

Marinette didn’t know that she could love a person more than she already did, but at that dinner table under the soft light of a chandelier, her heart expanded to make way for all that she had to discover about her new boyfriend.

So yeah, he was a dork. A kind, selfless, sometimes clueless, wonderful, and amazing dork.

She smiled and tapped his nose. “No, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

He beamed. “Good! Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“And one day I’ll be able to handle your sweet nothings without turning into a puddle.” Marinette picked the water bottle off of the table and took several long sips.

“Once again, I will repeat this until the day I die. Your blushing is one of the cutest things on the planet. It rivals videos of kittens eating loudly and ducklings wearing hats. You’re absolutely purr-fect.”

Water nearly came shooting out of her nose. “Adrien Agreste, did you just make a cat pun?”

“Yup!” He looked so proud of himself.

All the nervousness from before disappeared, for if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was how to deal with a cat-pun slinging boy with a smug grin on his face.

“Is there a reason for the puns, or are you just trying something new?”

“I think you meant to ask if I was trying something mew.”

“Nope, that’s all you.” “Well, to answer your question from before, punning is a part of my purr-sonality. C’mon...just admit they’re claw-some.”

“Goodness gracious, just how many cat puns do you have in your arsenal?”

“I can go all night, Marinette.”

“And pray tell, where did you learn all of these puns?”

“I have a few cat pun websites bookmarked on my computer and my phone. I also have a cat pun translator app, and I bought a pun dictionary. But I put all of the best ones I find in my notes app.” He whipped out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and held it out for her to see. “I’ve always liked puns, but the cat ones kind of took over.”

She bit back a laugh. “Who are you? Chat Noir?”

An indistinguishable emotion flickered behind his eyes before quickly being replaced by a mischievous glint. “Would that be the worst thing?”

No.

But something like that happening would be too good to be true.

Her partner was the best, and there was no doubt in her mind that whoever was behind the mask was brave, kind, loyal, and an all-around amazing human being, so it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility for the love of her life to be Chat Noir. However, Marinette knew that she wasn’t that lucky. At least the world had been blessed with two equally as amazing blond boys...who both apparently loved puns.

“Not at all.” She smiled and shook her head. “He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“R-really? You think so?” His voice uncharacteristically cracked on the last word of his question.

“Yeah, he’s my favorite hero.”

“Wait, really? It’s not Ladybug?”

“Nope. It’s Chat.”

And how could it not be? Her partner was incredible, and soon she would be able to tell him that not as Ladybug, but as Marinette.

Chat had been overjoyed when she’d suggested a mutual reveal. It was long overdue, and now that she was comfortable as the new Guardian, she was ready. It would make things safer for both of them to know. Not to mention she was excited at the prospect of being able to double down on their search for Hawkmoth.

Oh, how she dreamed of the day that Hawkmoth’s reign of terror came to an end! With her and Chat working together as both heroes and civilians, that dream might finally have the chance of becoming a reality.

If only Adrien could know about my life behind the mask, she mused, He’d probably be super helpful. Perhaps that’s something Chat and I could dis-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a piercing ring.

Adrien picked up his phone, turned off the blaring alarm, and sighed. “As much as I would love to stay here and cuddle, I have to go meet with my work friend now. Are you sure it’s okay that we’re skipping date night for this?”

Oh, right.

He was meeting with a friend today, as well.

She’d been worried about canceling her plans with Adrien, but he’d seemed relieved when she had brought it up earlier that week. When he revealed that he had also made dinner plans and needed to postpone their date, she couldn’t help but marvel at how in sync their lives were.

“Of course! It’s important for us to hang out with other people sometimes.” Marinette looked up at him through her eyelashes and smiled. “And we’re not canceling date night. We just moved it to tomorrow.”

“That’s right!” He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “And to make it up to you, I will make sure that it is the most amazing date you’ve ever been on!”

“Even more amazing than the time you took me to Gabriel’s annual investor’s gala?”

Adrien nodded his head. “Most definitely.”

“Oh?” Marinette bit back a laugh. “And why is that?”

His face fell flat, matching the tone of his voice. “Because my father won’t be there.”

Giving in and falling into a fit of giggles, she held her stomach and doubled over. “Yeah, that would definitely do it! He made things so awkward when he demanded that you dance with that girl.”

“Sadly, it’s not the first time he’s done something like that. He’s always using me as a marketing tool with the investors. Let’s just say that having me spend time with a rich man’s daughter is one of my father’s many business tricks.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “At least he’s out of town for the next few weeks.”

“Yeah, thank goodness.” He leaned in and pecked her on the lips. “It means that I have you all to myself with no interruptions.”

The alarm on his phone went off a second time.

He took a deep breath and tapped the screen. “Except for right now. I really do have to get going soon.”

Marinette took her phone out of her purse and looked at the time. “Me, too. I told my friend to meet me at 6. If I don’t leave within the next five minutes, I’m definitely going to be late.”

“Same.” Adrien pocketed his phone, hopped off the couch, and grabbed his shoes. “So, where are you meeting up with your friend?”

“Oh, at some cafe I suggested. I went there with Kagami a few times.”

“Have we ever been there together?”

“No, but maybe we could go tomorrow! On our make-up date!” Marinette hopped off of the couch and slipped on her flats.

Adrien returned to her side and took both of her hands in his. “I’d like that.”

Marinette had picked the restaurant because she knew Chat would love it, and the more she thought about it, she knew that Adrien would probably love it, as well. “You know, you and my friend...you and he are really similar. I think the two of you would be really good friends.”

“And if we’re being honest, you and my work friend are so alike it’s insane. I guess there’s a reason why I used to be in love with her.” His eyes blew wide as he clasped his hands over his mouth. “I mean…”

Marinette took a step back. “The girl you’re meeting with today...she was the girl you-”

He frantically waved his hands in front of him. “No! It’s not like that anymore! I swear! I don’t love her...I mean, I do, but not like that. She’s like family? Also, she’s dating someone now. She only saw me as a friend, so it didn’t work out.”

“I always thought it was Kagami.” She collapsed back onto the couch, feeling her heart sink. “That means I wasn’t even your second choice. I was your third.”

Adrien scrambled onto the couch. “No, no! Please don’t start thinking like that.”

“But it’s true.” Feeling smaller than she’d ever felt, Marinette buried her head in her hands and pushed back tears that threatened to fall. “I’m sorry you didn’t wind up with either of the people you loved before me.”

“Marinette, I need you to look at me.” He carefully pulled her hands away from her face and held them in a steady grip. “You weren’t my third choice. You weren’t even my second choice. You were my always choice.”

“Your...always choice?” A tear slipped down her cheek and fell onto her lap. “I don’t understand.”

“You know what? Neither did I until the day I found out that you had a crush on me. Sure, I was in love with the girl I work with. It consumed me and didn’t let me think about anything else, but she didn’t want a relationship with me. I was heartbroken, and while I respected her wishes, I didn’t know how I could ever love another person the same way. Then Nino made his little slip-up, and I realized that I already did.” He leaned in and rested his forehead on hers. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”

“But…”

“No buts. Please. I care about my work friend a lot, but I am in love with you. Yes, loving her was exciting, like fireworks, but loving you feels like…” His face softened, his gaze filled with adoration. “It feels like home.”

Her breath hitched. “Adrien…”

“Marinette.” The reverence in which he uttered her name set her entire being ablaze.

“You’re going to melt me into a puddle again.”

“Good.”

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and closed herself around him. Returning the gesture, he drew her into a tight embrace. With his chest flush against her own, Marinette could feel the pounding of his heart and the depth of his breaths.

When he pulled away, she immediately felt the absence of his warmth. She sniffled, and using his thumbs, he wiped away the wetness from her cheeks.

“Now go have fun with your friend.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I want to hear all about it when I call you tonight.”

Marinette couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “Thanks, you, too.”

“And maybe the both of us could convince our friends to hang out as a group one day...you know, since we’re all so alike.”

“It’s funny. My friend used to have a crush on me, and I turned him down. It sounds like our friends wouldn’t just hit it off, but they might just be made for each other...like you and I are.” She couldn’t help but laugh as she pictured Chat and Adrien’s work partner meeting for the first time. “Too bad my friend is already dating someone.”

“My co-worker is dating someone as well.” Adrien chuckled and shook his head. “But for real, it sounds like they’d be a match made in heaven.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if they were actually dating each other?” It was a ridiculous thought, but it felt good to laugh after crying.

Adrien nearly doubled over. “That would be the most insane plot twist. Their relationship would be like one of those romances from a movie or something.”

“Only if it’s a really cheesy movie!” She thought back to all of the times she’d dealt with Chat’s flirtations. “I know for a fact that my friend is the ultimate hopeless romantic.”

“You mean like me?”

“Well, I did say that the two of you were alike.”

“Then I must meet this classy gentleman friend of yours!” Adrien held a finger in the air as he spoke. “He and I shall be the best of friends.”

An infinitely more ridiculous idea popped into her head. “I just thought of an even bigger plot twist!”

“Let’s hear it.”

“What if you’re actually the friend I’m meeting today?”

“Well then, may I suggest the biggest plot twist of all? You and I are actually each other’s friends, and we didn’t know because until today, we’ve been dressing up in disguises every time we’ve met up.”

Marinette slapped her hands against her cheeks and feigned surprise. “Then that would mean that you fell in love with me twice!”

Yeah, it would! And it would also mean that you turned me down because you had a crush on me but didn’t know it.” Adrien flopped dramatically onto the couch. “My poor brain can’t handle the confusion.”

“Same. Can you even imagine trying to keep something like that straight?”

“Nope! As crazy and cool as something like that would be, I’m pretty relieved we don’t have to deal with that kind of mess in our love lives.”

“Yes! Agreed!” But you’re right. I do think that the four of us would have a lot of fun together! I’ll ask him about a possible group hang-out session. I’m sure he’d be down for something like that.” Marinette straightened her purse strap, bent down, and pecked Adrien on the lips. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

As she walked towards the door and out of his room, she heard Adrien call out behind her. “I love you, too!”

Carrying his words with her, Marinette bounced with each step she took. She skipped down the steps of the mansion and basked in the warmth of the summer sun.

How could she have been so silly to think that Adrien loved her less than he did? Of course, he loved her! She could see it in his eyes every time they were together. She could hear it in the way he spoke to her. She could feel it in each kiss.

Adrien Agreste loves her just as much as she loves him, and there was nothing that could ruin the high that came with this knowledge.

Nope. Not a single thing could ruin her day.

She was in love.

Someone loved her back.

And she was about to reveal her identity to Chat Noir.

Marinette froze.

She was about to reveal her identity to Chat Noir.

What was she thinking?

She couldn’t do something like this. She and Chat were fine the way they were. Right?

Opening the clasp to her purse, she ducked into an alleyway and did her best to not hyperventilate. “Tikki!”

Her Kwami zipped into view. “What’s wrong? Is there an Akuma?”

“No...it’s just…”

“Yes?”

“Just…”

“Marinette, what is it?”

She clenched and unclenched her fists several times before finding the words to say. “I can’t do this. No, I shouldn’t do this. How could I have possibly thought that this was a good idea?”

“What?” Tikki squinted. “Are you talking about meeting Chat?”

“Yes! Didn’t you always say that we had our secret identities for a reason?”

“Yes, but that was before. You’re the Guardian now, and you’re supposed to know where every single Miraculous from the Miracle Box is at all times.”

“But what if-”

Tikki cut her off. “No what if’s! This is the right thing to do, and you know it!”

Is it? Worry still clouded her mind. Am I going to regret this?

“I don’t know.” Marinette fiddled with the strap on her purse, fighting the urge to turn around and run home. “What if everything goes wrong?”

“It won’t!” Tikki nuzzled Marinette’s cheek. “Also, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Don’t forget...I already know who Chat Noir is.”

“That’s right! You do!” She cupped her Kwami in her hands. “Will you tell me a little bit about him? It’ll make me feel better about all of this. Please?” Tikki shook her head. “Marinette, you already know everything you need to know about him.”

“I do? But I thought the Miraculous magic was supposed to make that impossible.”

“The suit masks your features, not your heart, and trust me, you know Chat Noir’s heart inside and out. He’s never tried to hide who he was from you.”

“I guess you’re right.” She fixed her eyes on the pavement below. “But I’m still nervous.”

“And you think he’s not? He’s most likely freaking out as we speak, and it would probably make him feel a lot better if you actually showed up.” And once again, Marinette knew Tikki was right.

She had to do this.

If not for herself, for Chat. Her partner deserved the support that came with knowing her identity. She never wanted him to find himself in a position where he needed help from the Guardian and didn’t know where to find it. Chat needed her just as much as she needed him.

And now it was time to meet him.

Doing her best to shake off the sinking pit in her gut, Marinette smoothed out her skirt and straightened her back. “I can do this.”

“Yes, you can!” Tikki threw her tiny paws into the air. “This is so exciting!”

“Sure, if by exciting you mean that nauseous feeling in your stomach, but I can do this. I’m Ladybug.”

“And more importantly, you’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You’re the girl who’s an amazing designer, class president, and friend. You are kind, and you always stand up for what’s right.”

Marinette could feel her confidence grow. “That’s right...I am! I’m great in and out of the mask. Just like Chat is.”

“Just like Chat is.” Tikki smiled. “And I’m sure he would love to know your name.”

“And I would love to know his.”

“And all you need to do is walk into that cafe.”

“And find the boy wearing the black hoodie and the silver ring.” Marinette held up her purse for her Kwami. “C’mon, Tikki. Let’s go have dinner with the boys!”

“Boys?” Tikki cocked her head to the side. “As in more than one?”

“Are you telling me that you’re not excited to see Plagg without having to sneak around?” Marinette couldn’t hold back her laughter when she saw Tikki’s face light up before she enthusiastically dove into the bag.

With a renewed spring in her step, Marinette made her way to the cafe. Within minutes, she found herself standing outside the glass door, gripping the metal door handle. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and crossed the threshold.

A blast of warmth hit her face as she walked into the intimate dining space. She scanned the room and felt a rush when her eyes landed on a hunched figure clad in black.

Chat.

If it was indeed her partner, he was sitting at the far end of the cafe, facing the wall and scrolling through his phone. He had a hood pulled over his head, so she couldn’t see the color of the person’s hair. During their last patrol, Chat had divulged that his hair was actually blond so she would recognize him when she saw him. While this stranger wasn’t making it easy, there was almost no one else it could be.

And there was only one way to find out.

It’s now or never, Marinette. She psyched herself up as she walked over to the hooded stranger. Just walk up and ask…

“HEYISTHISSEATTAKEN?” Marinette slapped her hands over her mouth when she realized how loudly the garbled strand of words had come out. “I mean…”

The cafe had gone quiet, and she could feel all eyes on her.

This is a disaster. What am I doing? If this is Chat, he’s going to think I’m such a weird-

“Marinette?” A hand wrapped around hers, bringing her catastrophizing to an end.

Wait.

The hand was warm and familiar. “My sweet, beautiful Marinette. Come here.”

I know that voice.

The hand tugged her closer. “Come here, my love.”

Adrien.

A pair of green eyes filled with love and surprise locked with hers. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Her brain continued to short-circuit. “What are you doing here? And why are you hiding under that hoodie?”

“Ahhh, yes.” Using his free hand, he scratched the back of his head. “I’m meeting my friend here, and I really didn’t want anyone taking pictures of me meeting with a girl who wasn’t you and getting the wrong idea. Having another media presence conversation with my father is the last thing I need.”

“I totally get that. I remember you telling me about the last time your dad sat you down for one of those talks.” She smiled, but confusion continued to swirl around her mind.

She could have sworn it was Chat; however, she couldn’t have asked for a better outcome to her mistake.

“I know it hasn’t even been an hour, but I’m happy to see you.” A gentle kiss pressed against her knuckles. “So, what are you doing here? You’re not following me, are you?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and took a seat across from him. “No, my days of following you are far behind me, thank you very much, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t remind me of all my embarrassing pre-dating decisions.”

“They’re so cute though!” He rested his head in his hands. “I’ve never had someone care about me as much as you do before.”

“Adrien, stop!” Her cheeks started to burn. “My friend is going to be here any second, and I can’t look like a tomato when he shows up!”

“Ohhhh, so that’s what you’re doing here! Wow...what a crazy coincidence!”

“You want to know an even bigger coincidence? My friend said that he was going to be wearing a black hoodie when I met up with him. I thought he was you.”

Adrien leaned back in his chair. “Wait...really?”

“Yeah.” Marinette nodded her head. “He said that he would be wearing a black hoodie with a silver ring. He wanted me to be able to recognize him.”

“Hold on.” He opened and closed his mouth several times before continuing. “Have you never met your friend in person before?”

“Uhhh.” Panic started to settle in her gut, but luckily she knew how to keep a straight face. “Well, it’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, we've met in person, but our outfits were kind of weird.”

“Uh-huh, and what’s your friend’s name again? I don’t think you ever mentioned it.”

“Umm...you see, we’ve only been using nicknames, so I’m not totally sure.”

He held up a hand. “So let me get this straight. You two don’t know each other’s names, and there was a chance that you wouldn’t recognize him because you were dressed weird every time you saw each other before today.”

“Yes.” Marinette looked away. “That’s right.”

“And I’m guessing that means that you gave him something to look for to help him know that it’s you?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

She swallowed, sincerely hoping that she wasn’t giving too much away. “My black earrings.”

His eyes immediately locked on her ears, sending him into a near trance-like state. Several emotions passed over his features before his eyes grew wide.

“Oh my God.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Oh my God.”

Her cheeks grew hotter as his unrelenting stare continued. “I-is there something on my face?”

“It all makes sense now.”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

He grabbed her hands from across the table. “I was close a few times but you always shook me off your scent. You’re so clever, but I guess you already knew that.”

“What are you talking about?” She pulled her hands away. “Adrien, I don’t understand.”

“You’re joking, right?” Without breaking his stare, he leaned in and curled his mouth into a smirk. “Oh wow, you’re not.”

The panic and confusion that clouded her thoughts began to melt away as her annoyance grew.

Why would Adrien freak her out like that and then...laugh?

He was laughing.

Why was he laughing?

“Would you care to share what’s so funny?” she asked with a huff.

He wiped a tear away from his eye as he attempted to compose himself with several deep breaths. “I just can’t believe it!”

“Can’t believe what?”

“Marinette.” He got up, walked around the table, and knelt in front of her. “Don’t you think it’s interesting that you’re waiting in this cafe for a boy in a black hoodie and you ran into me?”

“Yeah, it’s a funny coincidence. Great minds think alike, right? Wait...speaking of friends.” Her eyes scanned the cafe. “My friend still isn’t here.”

“I guess we’ll have to do this a different way then.” Adrien stood up and grabbed his phone off of the table. “Can you do me a favor?”

“If I do, will you finally tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes, but I think you’re going to figure it out soon enough.”

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

He pulled her onto her feet. “I’m going to go call my friend because she’s not here yet either. While I’m gone, could you call your friend, as well?”

“What, no!” Marinette did another scan of the cafe before turning back to Adrien. “I have to stay here in case he shows up. If he gets here and I’m not here, he’ll think I stood him up.”

“He won’t. And don’t you want to see if he’s okay?”

She bit her lip and watched as a pair of giggling girls walked through the door. “Yeah, I do.”

Relief washed over his face. “Thank you! And then when our friends get here, maybe we could all eat together?”

“And you’ll tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes, I promise that if you haven’t figured it out by the time we both return, I will tell you everything, but you’re going to facepalm when I do.”

His sincerity calmed her agitation. “We’ll see about that!”

Adrien laughed again and disappeared into the men’s room. Following suit, Marinette pushed open the door to the ladies’ room, checked that she was alone, and transformed.

Before she had the chance to pull out her yo-yo and make the call, it started to ring.

She grabbed the device and held it up to her face. “Chat, where are you? Are you okay?”

“Can you meet me on the roof?” She could hear a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Right now?"

"Yes."

“Why?”

“Purr-lease, my lady? Do it for me?”

"Is this something I'm going to regret?"

"Nope! I purr-omise. Cat's honor!"

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“Awesome! See you there!” Before she could respond, the line went dead.

Great.

Now she had two boys who were acting weird.

After finding a window that was big enough for her to squeeze through, she leaped through the opening and hooked her yo-yo around a chimney. With a tug of the wire, she flew into the air and landed on the edge of the roof.

“Hey, Ladybug!” She whipped around and was met face to face with the most excited-looking Chat she’d ever seen. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You asked me to come up here, you silly cat!” She sheathed her yo-yo and rested her hands on her hips. “What are you up to?”

“Even after saying the same opening line? Really? Nothing?”

“Chat, what are you talking about? I swear, between you and my boyfriend…”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Oh, right.” She pressed her pointer fingers together. “So, my boyfriend is here, and he’s also waiting to meet with a friend, but he’s acting all weird right now...just like you are. But anyway, I know that today is a big deal for us and we have a lot to talk about, but since he’s already here and I don’t want to make it any weirder than it already is, do you think it would be okay if we ate dinner with my boyfriend and his friend?”

He took a step closer. “That sounds like a lot of fun. I would love to.”

“That’s a relief! I was worried you’d get mad and say no.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “But we may have to get our stories straight before we go back in there. I kind of told him that we only knew each other by nicknames until now, so unless we want to tell him that we’re the heroes of Paris, we should do the reveal here.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Oh, and one more thing. My boyfriend is kind of famous? He’s Adrien Agreste.”

“The model whose face is plastered all over the city?” Chat’s expression was unreadable. “Does that mean you’re the girl from all his Instagram posts?”

Marinette hoped it wouldn’t be a problem. “Yeah, that’s me. He’s wearing a hoodie so no one recognizes him, so I hope that’s okay.”

“That's fine with me.” He took another step closer. “So, would you like to do it on the count of three?”

“Do what?” They were so close.

“Drop our transformations.”

“Right! We should do that!”

He was now inches away from her. “On the count of three?”

“Sounds good to me.” Her heart hammered against her chest.

This was it.

It was now or never.

She took a deep breath and counted with him.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

They spoke their detransformations at the same time, and Marinette’s brain ceased to work as the magical green light left her boyfriend in Chat’s place. Taking a step back, her foot slipped off the ledge, and everything went in slow motion as Adrien yelled, grabbed her hand, yanked her back onto the roof, and fell with her into a heap of tangled limbs.

Without letting go, Adrien sat up and pulled her into his lap. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re alright!”

Still stunned speechless, all she could do was nod.

“See? I told you I’d always be there to catch you when you fall.” He gave her a once over before wrapping his arms around her and holding her against his chest. “Sorry, I thought it was a good idea. I should have moved us to the middle of the roof.”

Her brain began to sputter back to life.

Adrien was holding her.

And Adrien was Chat Noir.

Which meant Chat was holding her.

Which meant…

“I’m in love with Chat Noir.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes, you are.” He rested his mouth against the crown of her head. “And I fell in love with the same girl twice. Best. Plot twist. Ever.”

Marinette thought back to earlier that day, a time that now felt like a thousand years ago. “How did we not see this?”

“I don’t know, but now it all makes sense why you never agreed to go to the movies with me as Chat Noir. We were too busy living in our own movie.”

“We have so much to talk about.”

He held her even tighter. “Yes, we do, but we have a whole lifetime to talk. Let’s just enjoy dinner tonight.”

“Dinner sounds perfect.” She let all of her muscles relax and allowed herself to melt into his embrace. “I’m surprised you’re not freaking out right now.”

“Oh, trust me, I am, but I’m just going to focus on how amazing it is that my girlfriend and my lady are the same person and worry about the rest later. How are you holding up?”

“I’m still processing, but there’s a good chance that I will freak out and scream into a pillow later.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“What makes you think that you’ll be there to see it?”

“What makes you think that I’m going to leave you alone tonight?”

“And how do you plan on doing that after I go home after our date?”

“I was thinking that purr-haps a certain cat could come and visit you on your balcony? It sounds a lot more interesting than a boring phone call if you ask me.”

Of course, they were the same person.

It all made sense now.

This was Adrien. This was her Chaton. This was her best friend. This was the love of her life. This was her everything.

“Fine.” She pulled away and tapped his nose with her pointer finger. “But the cat has to bring hot chocolate if he wants to stay.”

“Deal!” He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. “And may I just say that I am so excited for our next patrol.”

“Oh, no…”

“I wonder what the pictures on the Ladyblog will look like when Alya captures Ladybug turning into a blushing, stuttering mess after Chat Noir flirts with her!”

“Don’t think that I won’t end you just because you’re cute.”

“Awwwww!” He nuzzled her nose. “We can be cute together!”

“I said it before, and I'll say it again. You’re going to be the death of me, Adrien Agreste.” She buried her face against his hoodie and shivered.

“Nope! Not on my watch.” He got up and lifted her into his arms, prompting her to squeak. “Let’s get you warmed up inside.”

As he called for his transformation, Marinette found herself unable to look away. Here he was, holding her like she was his world, ready to do seemingly anything for her.

How did she get so lucky?

“Alright, hold on.” She braced herself against him as he leaped into the alleyway below.

He set her down on the ground and called off his transformation once again. After telling Plagg to join Tikki in Marinette’s purse, he took her hand and began walking towards the cafe.

Before they reached the door, Marinette stopped in her tracks. “Hey, Adrien?”

“What’s up?” He turned to look at her. “Did you want to go somewhere else to eat?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s not it. I’m just really happy that it’s you.”

“Oh, Marinette.” He pulled her back into his arms and dipped her into a kiss. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but knowing that it’s you is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I thought having me as your girlfriend was the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Life would be boring if that stayed my favorite thing. Besides, if we’re going to be together forever, do you really want to stay just my girlfriend?”

“We’re only sixteen, Adrien.”

“And that means that we have many, many years to experience even more plot twists and greatest moments with each other.”

His declaration warmed her from her head to her toes, but to her surprise, she managed to keep herself composed and stutter-free.

“I guess that means we’re still in this together? Just you and me?” She snaked her arms around his neck.

“Always.” She couldn’t help but smile as he kissed her again.

#miraculous ladybug #my fic #ml fanfiction #plot twist #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #they are just so oblivious in this #SO OBLIVIOUS #identity reveal #prompt #clumsy

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miaicefyre · 3 years

Text

My headcannon

Juane washes Oscars wounds

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up”

They sat in the giant Shnee bathroom, his coat hung on a peg outside, his boots sat just beside the door so he was down to just his top and trousers.

He nodded “Mm’kay”

At first Oscar had protested against the idea, saying they’d only been given an hour and they shouldn’t waste time on him, but given they had some explaining to do anyway...he agreed so long they agreed to listen to what Emerald had to say.

Jaune went over to the bath and set the tap running, testing the temperature then looked back at Oscar in time to see him wince trying to take his top off. Jaune felt a rush of sympathy and regret looking at him. Beneath the scorched fabric, the burn was red-raw, and angry dent in the boys chest. He wandered if it would ever fully heal. While his aura-amp had fixed up most of his ribs, the bruises still seemed to be there. At the time, he’d just focused on getting Oscar back on his feat after the explosion. He honestly hadn’t had much aura left himself after there run in with Salam. and even where there weren’t bruises, patches of dust and dirt had still managed to seep through his coat. He really did need this bath.

Leaving the tap on slow fill, Jaune took the discarded shirt and opened the door just enough to try and hang it on the same leg as the coat. Someone would come for them later, he knew. Weather it was Wiess, Cline or even mrs. Shnee, he felt sure they’d have some clean clothes by the time they were done.

When he looked back, he found Oscar leaning over the edge of the tub, with his hands on its edge. He looked as though he was finding it somewhat difficult to get in, his arms and legs shaking slightly. Jaune went to help, giving him something to lean on while lowering himself gently into the slowly expanding stretch of water. He suddenly realised it wasn’t just a wash he needed, but rest as well.

He still had those bandages he always wore on his neck but when Jaune took them off he noticed some old scars across his throat. “How long have you had those?”

Oscar raised a hand to the scars, as if he’d only just remembered they were there. “About a decade.”

Jaune took up a sponge, squeezed it full of water and gently rubbed the boys shoulder. “You never told anyone about them.”

He shrugged. “No one ever asked.”

He decided to drop the subject, and not to mention it to anyone else either.

Neither of them said anything else until Jaune got his wrist and a reflex caused Oscar to wince and pull away.

“Sorry.” Jaune said “does that hurt?”

“Only a little.”

He could see why. Thin markings were clearly visible all down his wrist. When he started on his other shoulder and noticed similar markings on his other wrist, the realisation struck him. “Did they tie your hands?”

“Only when it was him.” Oscar stifled a chuckle. “I don’t think she really saw me as much of a threat...but she didn’t wanna take any chances with him.

All of a sudden, his feelings of anger towards Ozpin mixed with his feelings of responsibility for Oscar and he found himself feeling bad for the old man.

“Hold still.” With the softer side of the sponge, he dabbed at the blood by the corner of his mouth, only mildly surprised to see the cut underneath had completely healed. “Sounds like he had it pretty ruff...did take all of it though, did he.”

Oscar didn’t bother asking how he knew that. “No. But that was because I didn’t want him too. He wasn’t gonna force it. Not again.”

Momentarily confused, Jaune let the sponge fall. “Why? Why wouldn’t you want him to?” He realised just a second too late how mean that question actually sounded but Oscar didn’t seem to mind.

“I didn’t want them to know he was ready there. Otherwise, it would’ve been worse...was, worse.” He looked at the markings on his wrists. Once again, Jaune felt a pang of sympathy for Ozpin.

Filling a jug full of water, Jaune said “head back.” And Oscar did so, letting the water wash though his hair to drop back into the tub. It was getting dirtier now but they were almost done. “Your very brave.” Juane told Oscar, running his fingers through his wet hair. “You always have been...but that was kinda foolish.”

Once more, he saw the boy holding back a laugh. “It was him she really wanted...and I wasn’t gonna give her what she wanted.” Juane could help but smile too at that, but then it quickly faded when he realised “but you did in the end.”

Up till then, Oscars eyes had been closed but now he opened them. “Yeah.” He lowered his gaze to the slowly dirtying water.

“Hay.” Abandoning both jug and sponge, Juane put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be ashamed. You held up for as long as you could. And...in a way I-I’m glad Oz was there for you...to take hits when, you no longer could.”

That didn’t seem to help much. Oscar lowered his head, his eyes becoming hidden in the dripping locks of his hair. Juane sighed, letting the subject simmer for a while. He would realise in time.

They kept quiet until Juane turned his attention to the scar on Oscars chest. He didn’t want to risk touching it, for fear it would just cause more pain, so he just placed the sponge just above it and pressed it there, causing the water to run down the wound. Even that cause the boy to wince and suck in his breath in pain.

“Shh, this want take a sec.” Jaune tried to reassure him.

Hoping the boy wouldn’t notice, he also tried a bit of his aura amp again but, not to much of his surprise, it didn’t seem to make it any better.

That just left the bruises over his ribs. The water had risen to just below his chest by now, meaning those bruises were partly submerged. This made it a little harder to see them but easier to get them clean.

“Did Hazel do this to you?” Jaune asked, rubbing the bruises away, careful not to press to hard.

“Most of it.” Oscar told him, nodding.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Juane said “Why would he suddenly go from beating your ass to saving it?”

For a moment, Oscar started to look a little smug. “Cause even while he was doing that, I was tryn’a get him to turn...make him see what he was doing was wrong.”

“And how did you manage that in the end?”

“Simple. I told him the truth.”

But before he could ask any more questions, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

Getting up, Jaune turned off the tap and went to see who it was.

It turned out to be Wiess, holding a pile of clean clothes. “Freshly washed.” She says, handing them to him

That was bloody quick

“We’re waiting in the dinning room when your done.”

Jaune took the cloths. “Thanks. We should be out in a minute.”

When he closed the door and looked back, he saw Oscar was laying back in the water, his arms outstretched above him, as if he were examining something on his hands. The marks on his wrist were still there but they were much less visible then before. You had to actually be looking for them and even then to be pretty up close to be able to spot them.

He looked up when Jaune took a towel from the rail and came towards him. Crouching down, he let Oscar put an arm around his shoulders in order to help him out of the tub and Wrapped the towel around his shoulders.

“There.” Juane told him. “That didn’t take to long.”

Meanwhile

“What did you do to him?!”

Emerald stood pouting in a corner while the others looked at her accusingly. “I never touched the boy. I barely even saw him. It was mostly Hazels job to...try and get him to talk.”

“But why...what was she wanted to know?”

Emerald shrugged. “Probably a few things. All I know is that at that moment, she has the lamp but didn’t know how to use it.”

Blake nodded. “So that’s why she needed Oscar.”

There was a pause for a while.

“Did he?” Yang asked, unable to take the silence much longer. “Did he tell her?”

Emerald shook her head. “But I...sometimes a-I could hear it...all the hits...and the screams.” She closed her eyes and looked away. “It was horrifying...listing to him cry out like that”

Was she actually feeling sorry for him?

“But you didn’t try to stop it!”

She actually laughed. “How could I? Then it would’ve been me on the receiving end. They tortured him...beating him until he wept but...he never gave in. I kind of admired that.” She looked up to where Jaune had taken Oscar to get cleaned up. “He’s a brave boy.”

There were looks of shock and sympathy all around. Ruby in particular looked close to tears.

“But wait.” Yang realised “he said Ozpin took the torture for him.”

That seemed to stump Em for a second. “I wandered about that too when I heard cause...I’m pretty sure it was the boy to begin with. Even though it wasn’t really him she wanted...that was the other thing she thought the torture would do. Try and draw the old man out. And I guess it worked in the end but I-I honestly couldn’t tell the difference.”

But that just caused them to ask more questions.

“Why would he want to keep control while going through that?”

“Because I think he knew. If she knew Ozpin was really still there, it would’ve been harder on both of them. He knew that.”

“Well then why would he end up giving it to him in the end.”

Em shrugged again. “I don’t know, I guess it just became too much.” Then when they all just looked her blankly. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend I knew what was going on in that head of his, But if I had to guess, I’d say when we were all brought to the bridge to watch the whale land on atlas, it was him in control then.”

“So you did see him.”

“That was the first time I saw him. Being dragged from that cell it...it looked like he could barely walk.”

Two things happened one after the other: Ruby stifled a sob and the door opened to reveal Wiess coming in. Thanks that later, no one seemed to notice Ruby.

“They say there almost done.” Weiss told the others, referring to Jaune and Oscar. She glared at Emerald as she passed but said nothing.

“Good, cause we really need to talk about things.”

Maybe he’d be able to validate Emeralds claims but they had other problems.

It was a another few minutes until they came in. He still looked a little pale but at least he was clean. Yang moved towards him but he waved her away. “I’ll be fine, don’t fuss.”

He stopped just in front of Emerald. “They treating you alright?” He muttered to her.

She nodded vaguely.

He went to stand my the window...

Let’s be real, it probably didn’t actually happen like this but it still would’ve been nice to see how Oscar went from beaten and tattered to clean and fresh.

#rwby #Oscar #headcannon #Jaune #volume 8 #Emerald

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thelordice · 3 years

Text

In Their Shoes

Neither my finest written work (go figure, this is the first thing I’ve written in like seven years that didn’t have to do with phasers and photon torpedoes) nor my longest, this should be more of a... jumping-off point. I might write more later, but I also invite others to expand this AU as well. Assuming this rambling pile of sleep-deprived garbage inspires anybody. Might’ve also slipped in a few obscure references to other episodes here and there.

Paging @godwithwethands @min0uze. Reblog at will!

SG-1 Season 9 Episode 14.5

Previously, on Stargate SG-1: “Stronghold” happened. Go watch it. (also I got Stronghold and Off the Grid confused earlier, probably because I watched literally the entire last half of Season 9 for the first time last night and have yet to sleep lol)

A click, and the briefest hint of static, preceded the all-too-familiar wail of the base alert siren. Chief Harriman’s voice on the intercom, saying what everyone on the base had come to expect from the abrupt call to action. “Unscheduled offworld activation.” The Tau’ri in the commissary snapped to, leaving meals half eaten and chairs in disarray as they rushed off to their posts.

One among them, however, was more calm about the abrupt termination of his meal. Teal’c of Chulak rose calmly once the bustle had made its way out of the room and proceeded to the Control Center. His meatloaf would simply have to wait. As he rounded the corner into the nerve center of Stargate Command, he was joined by his commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell. “Any idea what this is about?” Mitchell asked as they jogged up the stairs.

Teal’c replied in a slightly concerned tone, “None.” When they arrived, Sam Carter had beaten them there, hunched over a computer next to the Chief that had sounded the alert. General Landry stood to their right, slightly back from them, watching the gate.. But the men weren’t late, for before Sam could turn to speak to her teammates, brilliant blue light flashed from behind the gate’s iris. It was a tense moment, but then a hologram materialized on their side of the iris. It took none of the assembled officers any time to identify the caller:

Ba’al.

Teal’c saw several of the guards in the Gate Room exchange looks. He, of course, was not surprised - Ba’al undoubtedly had access to a Sarcophagus, and likely used it after their last encounter. General Landry gripped the microphone for the intercom into the Gate Room and addressed their “visitor”. “What is it, Ba’al? I doubt this is a courtesy call.”

The hologram spoke, with the hollow yet echoing intonation of the Goa’uld: Oh, but it is, General. I have information that would concern you. I wish to speak to Teal’c.”

Landry turned to look at the former First Prime of a false god. They traded raised eyebrows, Mitchell glancing between them. “I suggest we tell him to shove it, sir,” Cameron finally said. He and Teal’c exchanged a knowing look. It had been less than a week since Ba’al had tried to brainwash Teal’c into following him, an event still fresh in both their memories. Teal’c looked back at Landry. “I agree with Colonel Mitchell. It is unlikely that Ba’al has any useful information, and whatever he offers us could well be a falsehood.”

Before Landry could reply, Sam interjected. “Yes, but Ba’al doesn’t do things like this very often. And the last time he did, he was… well, half-honest, at least. I think we should at least hear him out.”

Ever the optimist, Colonel Carter, Teal’c thought to himself. Landry raised both his eyebrows and simply said, “It’s your call, Teal’c. You don’t have to pick up if you don’t want to.” The Jaffa mulled it over for a moment before bowing slightly and starting his short walk to the Gate Room. He had weighed Ba’al’s most recent attempts at manipulation, subterfuge, and brainwashing against the possibility that just this once Ba’al might be genuinely helpful – or, at least, as “genuinely” helpful as he had been on Dakara. But with the Prior threat looming, and with Ba’al having as much to lose from defeat by the Ori as anyone else, Teal’c knew he couldn’t let his… distaste for false gods obstruct the chance at acquiring valuable intelligence.

Reaching the massive bulkhead sealing the Gate Room, Teal’c swiped his security card and opened the door. He paced slowly, deliberately into the room, as if a hunter stalking prey. Ba’al raised his arms wide in greeting, his red and black robe arms hanging from his limbs. That same hollow echo accompanied his words again, setting Teal’c subtly into discomfort. “Ah, Teal’c. I hope there’s no hard feelings over what happened a few days ago.”

“What is it that you want, Ba’al?” Teal’c was having none of this flamboyance.

“I just thought you’d like to hear what one of my spies just reported to me. It concerns you most particularly.” Teal’c simply raised an eyebrow, goading the Goa’uld to get on with it. But Ba’al’s tone became slightly more… somber, serious. “I have just received word that a Prior of the Ori has arrived on Chulak.”

Teal’c’s gut twisted. At first in concern for those on Chulak, then in anger – Ba’al was clearly trying to deceive him. “And why are you telling us this? Why has word of this not come from Bra’tac?”

“You really believe any Jaffa could have learned such news before me? You underestimate me, Teal’c. But if you do not believe me… go to Chulak yourself and discover the truth.” Ba’al slowly grinned in that wicked, almost maniacal way, and the hologram rippled and faded. A moment later, the shriek and whoosh signaled the closing of the wormhole. Teal’c stood in the Gate Room for a moment, given pause by the brief interaction. If Ba’al was lying, this would surely be some kind of a trap. But if this were true… it was a risk Teal’c could not take. He proceeded back to the Control Room and briefed General Landry and the rest of SG-1, Daniel only having arrived in time to see the hologram fade. Ultimately, Teal’c decided it would be wise to first consult Bra’tac on this, and then perhaps bring his mentor with him to Chulak to investigate. General Landry offered to send SG-1 with him, but Teal’c declined. “If Ba’al’s claim is true, and I require assistance, I will signal the SGC.” By the time Teal’c returned to the Embarkation Chamber, Harriman had already dialed Dakara. He wasted no time proceeding up the ramp and through the event horizon.

It had not taken long to find Bra’tac. Indeed, he had been on his way to the Stargate himself, and they met just outside the council hall. “Teal’c,�� Bra’tak said in surprise. “I was just coming to see you. We have received word tha-”

“That a Prior is on Chulak.”

Bra’tac seemed momentarily taken aback. “How did you know?”

“Stargate Command received a communique from Ba’al claiming as much. I came to seek your help in investigating this.”

Bra’tac’s brow furrowed. He was clearly as vexed by Ba’al’s actions as Teal’c was. But he did not mince words with this concern. “Then we must proceed to Chulak at once.” Teal’c bowed his head in assent, turned about face, and followed his friend back to the Stargate.

* * *

They arrived on Chulak at midday, the bright sun beating down upon them. The first sign to trouble them was that the Gate was entirely unguarded. There was, however, no signs of struggle. Thetwo wordlessly began to walk toward the city nearby. Not far from the gates, they were intercepted by a Jaffa. “Teal’c, Bra’tac, it is good you have come. The Prior is preaching in the city square.” He took them to the center of the town, where a Prior was indeed standing, shouting verses from the Book of Origin to a captive audience… of zero. The townspeople seemed to proceed with their daily routines as if he weren’t there, save to spare a condescending or angry glance in his direction. This did not seem to bother the Prior, the pale priest simply continued braying his scripture. He stopped, finally, as Teal’c and Bra’tac approached. The Jaffa that had led them brandished his staff and took a position to the right of the elder Jaffa. The Prior turned and asked, “Have you come seeking enlightenment?” The seemingly-frail man held his staff to his right side, seemingly (and undoubtedly) untroubled by the lethal plasma weapon leveled at him.

“We have come seeking answers as to why you are here,” Teal’c replied boldly.

“I have come to spread the truth of Origin to these unbelievers. We have heard that this was where your people started their rebellion against the parasitic false gods, and thought these people might be receptive to the word of the Ori.”

“They do not seem very receptive,” Bra’tac quipped. “Perhaps it is best if you go now, lest you wear out your throat preaching to deaf ears.”

The Prior smiled, his wilted and almost melting-looking skin giving an air of menace to the gesture. “Perhaps they will be more receptive to a demonstration of the power of the true gods to deal with the false.” He raised his staff and then jabbed it back into the ground, the large opal-like gem at its head glowing.

A moment later, a form flew out of a nearby alley. Their brown robes billowed as they were flung through the air by the Prior, wrapping their prone form as they hit the ground and rolled. They climbed hastily to their feet, but kept careful to leave their hood up to obscure their face. But the Prior was having none of that, and a wave of his hand cast down the hood.

It was Ba’al.

At the sight of the former System Lord, the Jaffa that had accompanied Bra’tac and Teal’c pivoted to bring his weapon to bear on the Goa’uld. Several other guards did likewise, and yet more leveled their weapons at the Prior. Thepriest raised his arms and his voice to the crowd. “Behold! The might and justice of the true gods!” His staff flashed again. Several staff weapons opened, ready to fire upon the Prior.

Instead, it was Ba’al who had felt the force of the Prior. He began screaming and convulsing, quickly falling to the ground. He gripped his gut with both hands as he writhed in agony. His eyes flashed yellow once, and then he lay still. Bra’tac moved to examine him. The eldest Jaffa raised his head. “He is alive.”

“What have you done to him?” Teal’c asked the Prior.

The Prior began walking out of the square, heading in the direction of the Gate. “Delivered him unto justice. As his kind did unto you… I have done unto him.” Shortly after he passed Teal’c, he turned back and cried, “I shall return in one day. When I do, I suspect many of you will be willing to follow the correct path.” He turned one final time and walked out of the city.

As he did, Ba’al stirred. As he woke, he groaned, clutching his stomach again. As Bra’tac looked on, Ba’al pushed aside his robes and lifted his shirt to examine what had pained him so much, still panting shallowly from the experience.

Four lines emanated from his belly button in a distinctive X pattern. No Jaffa would fail to recognize it.

It was a symbiote pouch. Just the same as they all had. It was that very distinction that separated them from humans.

It was what made them… and now, apparently, Ba’al, as well… Jaffa.

Bra’tac and Teal’c exchanged concerned looks as the crowd gathered to witniss Ori “justice”. And what a display of such they would get.

* * *

Back at Stargate Command, Teal’c and Bra’tac – joined by Landry and SG-1 - watched from the observation room as Doctor Lam examined her impromptu patient. Lam crossed from the bed to the intercom to report. “If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d say he was born a Jaffa. Symbiote pouch – but, interestingly, no symbiote – plus the weakened immune system and hormonal differences. The only difference between him and a Jaffa is that he seems to also have his original Goa’uld DNA as well. This isn’t the host of Ba’al, it is Ba’al. Just… not a Goa’uld.” The assembled observers traded shocked glances before turning to again look upon the fallen false god. “What’s more,” Lam said, “it’s as if this were a Jaffa that has gone more than a day without a symbiote. If it weren’t for his Goa’uld DNA trying to stave the effects off, he’d be dead by now. I’ve taken the liberty of starting him on tretonin for now.”

“Is he able to speak?” Teal’c inquired.

“Aside from some slightly anomalous brain activity I can’t place yet, yes,” Lam said, “and it seems he wants a word with you and Bra’tac.” The Jaffa rose and moved to enter the medical lab. Ba’al lay on a hospital bed in a white gown, his normal tan appearing noticeably paler. He was still breathing shallowly, and slowly turned his head to look at his visitors. “Heh,” he chuckled weakly, “justice indeed. This… is what it is to be a Jaffa…” He turned his head again to face the ceiling. “I suppose it makes sense. Clever, really, a plan worthy of me. Turn me into a Jaffa to show the people of Chulak that they can cause us to suffer as you have. I would be greatly concerned if I were you, Teal’c – this might just win the hearts of your kinsmen.” He gasped suddenly, squinching his eyes shut and groaning for a moment, but whatever ailed him passed quickly.

“You underestimate our will, brother,” Bra’tac said, the last word dripping – no, soaking – in contemptuous sarcasm. “The minds of the Jaffa are not so easily swayed. Though I admit… seeing a Goa’uld brought so low does give me great satisfaction.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c said. “If it were not for the unique opportunity to study you, I would advise Doctor Lam to let you die.”

“Of course,” Ba’al demurred. “A more fitting punishment for your false gods I doubt you could have concocted yourself.” Another brief attack struck Ba’al, and when it passed he gasped. He shook his head as if to clear it. “So then, before I die, I assume you intend to torture me for information.”

“I believe your current situation to be torture enough,” Teal’c said. “But I will ask a question of you. How is it that you told us of this Prior?” Teal’c had noted that this Ba’al had not been wearing the same clothes as the hologram, and he did not hink Ba’al would have the time or reason to redress himself before he had arrived. Further, the hologram technology Ba’al had used was not present at the Gate on Chulak.

Ba’al chuckled. “Trade secret, Teal’c. Why should I tell you ho-” He was wracked by another convulsion, this one seeming to leave him dazed. Doctor Lam reenterd. “You’ll have to leave, at least until I identify what’s going on with his brain wave patterns.” Teal’c nodded, spared a final glance at Ba’al, and led Bra’tac out.

Back in the observation room, Teal’c confided in his friends. “I fear Ba’al may be correct. To see a false god made into one of us would seem to be true justice to many Jaffa, and the power it would take to affect such a transformation could sway still others.”

Sam commented first. “Well, we know the Priors can affect people’s physiologies – curing diseases, fixing impairments, even raising the dead. Honestly I’m surprised this idea never came to us.”

“And he’s still snake enough to survive until the Jaffa execute him,” Mitchell said. “And you know they will – this is a golden opportunity for a little payback.”

“That is correct, Colonel Mitchell,” Teal’c replied. “For that reason, I suggest we keep Ba’al here until we can find a way to reverse this.”

“Reverse it?” Daniel wondered out loud. “W-wh-why would you want to reverse this?”

“Because otherwise it would seem to be proof of the Ori’s claims,” Bra’tac said. “As much as I relish seeing a Goa’uld defeated so thoroughly… we cannot allow such a small victory to pave the way to a much greater defeat.”

Landry nodded. “Doctor Lam already has a team working on trying to find a way to do just that… but this is way beyond our current medical science. I’m going to contact the Tok’ra and the Asgard, see if they have anything that can help with this. Mitchell, I want you to take SG-3 back to Chulak. Take up positions around the gate, try to prevent the Prior from returning to the city. Sam, Daniel, I’d like you to help Doctor Lam’s team with their research, see if there’s any technology we’ve found – or any knowledge we’ve learned – that can fix this. Teal’c, I think-”

“I will remain here to observe our new… brother,” Teal’c said, cutting Landry off. Teal’c spoke bitterly, angrily, but also subtly… eager, as if excited at the chance to ply Ba’al for information in his compromised state. “Bra’tac return to Chulak with Colonel Mitchell. You must counsel the city leaders to be cautious about these events. Some Jaffa are, unfortunately, more easily convinced than others.” He remembered with sadness what had befallen Gerak only a few weeks before. With no more to be said, the group dispersed to their duties. Teal’c returned to the commissary, ate, and then returned to the medlab justin time for Lam to come to him. “I think we’ve found out what’s happening with Ba’al’s brain… and I think you’ll be interested in seeing this.” She led him to a computer. “Since you last left, he’s had four more convulsions, each longer than the last. His brain scan indicates a massive amount of anomalous activity in the memory centers of the brain, as if it’s trying to process an overload of memories. Of note, during the last convulsion, he started muttering Goa’uld word, things like “kree”. I couldn’t make out all of it, but it’s almost like he was giving orders to someone. But what tipped me off was this.” She tapped a few buttons and highlighted several parts of the brain scan. “These patterns are remarkably similar to those produced by a Galaran memory transfer when it splices new memories into another person.”

“What memories has he been given?”

“I can’t say,” Lam said. “He refuses to go into detail about what he’s seeing. The patterns are still intensifying, but the rate at which they do so is diminishing. I think he’s starting to integrate… whatever he’s remembering.”

The monitor showed another spike as Ba’al convulsed again. This time, he shouted a full phrase in Goa’uld. Lam certainly didn’t seem to understand, but Teal’c did. Ba’al had shouted, “Brothers! Fall back! They are too many!” This, naturally, piqued Teal’c’s curiosity. He approached Ba’al as the convulsion subsided, leaving him panting and disoriented. “To whom are you referring, Ba’al?”

“The forces of… of… what?” Ba’al seemed to be struggling to form coherent sentences. Finally, he sighed in frustration. “I do not understand, Teal’c,” he said. “It is as if I remember things that I have never experienced.”

“Tell me what you are seeing, brother.” Teal’c did not allow himself an upset tone this time. In order to understand what was happening to Ba’al, Teal’c knew he must be patient and suss out the truths.

But instead of mustering a snide remark, Ba’al muttered in a mixture of horror and disbelief. “Battles… bloody fighting… dead Jaffa… bearing the marks of Lord Yu… and Cronus… Of Apophis, Camulus, Heru-Ur, Setesh, Isis, Ba’al, so many… I remember as if it were yesterday, being shot by staff rifles…” He leaned toward Teal’c abruptly. “Save us, brother, before-” he screamed and convulsed again, but when he finally came to again, it was once more Ba’al. But he seemed more subdued now. The careful air of easy superiority was gone, replaced by confusion and more than a small hint of fear. “It… it is as if I am remembering events from the perspective of Jaffa. It does not make sense. How could a Prior implant such memories?”

“I don’t think he did,” Lam interjected, sidling up to the bed. “I’ve been comparing your brain scans to those few we have on record of recently-taken Goa’uld hosts. At first I thought it was similar to the Galaran memory transfer, but now… it almost sounds like racial memory.” As Ba’al convulsed again, she turned to Teal’c and elaborated. “Every Goa’uld is born with the knowledge of all of their ancestors, memory rooted in their very DNA. From what he’s saying… it’s almost as if the Prior’s transformation of him caused his Goa’uld DNA to mix with Jaffa DNA. He may very well be reliving the memories of… generations of Jaffa, alongside a human brain trying to process the entire racial memory of the Goa’uld. Likely another part of the Prior’s “justice”, if I had my bet. I can’t even begin to guess what’s keeping his synapses from overloading from the strain.”

“To not only become a Jaffa, but to relive the generations of crimes perpetrated against us by the Goa’uld…” Teal’c’s mind raced. Surely nothing like this had happened in the past. Now, one of the false gods that had enslaved his people for thousands of years was reliving that enslavement from the eyes of the victims. It was a kind of justice Teal’c never even imagined could happen, and yet here it was.

Had he not known better, he might have momentarily considered thanking the Ori. Instead, this gave him an opportunity. “How long before this process is complete?”

“Based on current trends, his neural pathways should stabilize over the course of the next six hours. Who he’ll be after that… is anyone’s guess.”

Teal’c bowed his head respectfully and rose. “I will watch him from the observation post so that you may continue your work without interference, Doctor Lam.” Lam nodded, and Teal’c left the room.

* * *

Ba’al continued convulsing for four of those six hours, though during the last of those the convulsions seemed to finally weaken. The very last, however, had left Ba’al unconscious for the rest of the time. Teal’c had only just sat back down in the observation room with a mug of coffee from the commissary when Ba’al finally stirred. He reentered the medlab and sat beside the fallen Goa’uld. Ba’al seemed to be back to his usual self, quipping, “Have you enjoyed watching me suffer, Teal’c?”

“Immensely,” Teal’c replied, though this was more snark than truth. Then, in a strange gesture, he offered the coffee to Ba’al. Ba’al’s face wrinkled in confusion. “What is this?”

“A human beverage known as coffee. Many on this world find it helps order one’s mind, particularly after a period of unconsciousness.” Ba’al sniffed the contents of the mug, wrinkling his nose slightly, then sipped it. After he swallowed, he exhaled sharply. “You could have told me it was hot.”

“Extremely,” Teal’c replied. He smiled. “You present a unique opportunity, Ba’al.”

“Yes, I know, the study of such a unique specimen,” Ba’al retorted.

“That is not what I was referring to,” Teal’c replied calmly. “You alone are now in a position to recall the entirety of the Jaffa’s enslavement from both sides. It makes me wonder whether or not it has changed any of your beliefs.”

Ba’al scoffed. “And what makes you think that?”

“You carry the memories of generations of suffering. To the System Lords, we Jaffa were merely tools – expendable pawns to be discarded to suit your whims. Now you also see how the Jaffa felt during all this. Do you not feel their hopelessness, their despair? Are you not overcome by the miseries of millions that you yourself led to their deaths?”

He expected a glib answer, a tongue-in-cheek retort, even a spiteful jab. Instead, Ba’al said… nothing. He stared into the black depths of the mug in his hands, his expression contemplative. Teal’c even thought that for just a moment, regret crossed behind the eyes of the Jaffa before him. Finally, Ba’al sighed. “I would be lying if I said I did not. It is a most unsettling feeling.” He looked at Teal’c. “Why are you doing this? Why do you show this... kindness to me?”

“Because in you, Ba’al, there is hope,” said Teal’c. “you are the first opportunity the Goa’uld have ever had to know this sensation, to see the errors of the System Lords… and to do what you can to remedy the wrongs of the past.”

In truth, Teal’c wanted to hate Ba’al. To spit foul and angry diatribes at the false god, to condemn him for the deaths of so many innocents, to break Ba’al with his own hands. But those first hours watching the former Goa’uld writhing and screaming, however, had not brought him the satisfaction he had expected, and had instead mused at length about this situation. He knew that had this happened nine years prior, he would have gladly embraced Ba’al’s suffering for its own sake. But the Teal’c that had joined the SGC was not the same man that now sat beside Ba’al – he had grown, learned from the Tau’ri (both their fictions and their histories) of the path to true peace: forgiveness. And while he did not know if he could ever forgive a Goa’uld for what they had done to the Jaffa… he also knew that tormenting Ba’al with such things would benefit no one. And, indeed, Ba’al was no longer a Goa’uld, and so to inflict misery on him would not be justice – merely the torture of a fellow Jaffa. If there was to be a new and better future for the Free Jaffa Nation he had helped form, he understood that old wounds would have to be mended. Slowly, in time… but there would never be a better place to start.

Ba’al sat motionless, save to again sip the coffee Teal’c had given him – more cautious of its temperature now – before finally nodding. “There… is truth in what you say, Teal’c. As much as I desire to rail against the very idea, to mock you for proposing it… I remember the suffering. I have seen with my own eyes the kind of suffering I myself inflicted upon my followers, noble warriors that dedicated their lives to… an ultimately unworthy leader. That alone fills me with shame – a feeling no Goa’uld has known since before we took to the stars. The Jaffa have more than earned their freedom.” He shook his head solemnly.

“Then perhaps this time, when you tell the Jaffa of this, when you promise them their freedom… it will be genuine.”

“What do you mean?” Ba’al asked, puzzled.

“When you attempted to brainwash me into your service, you claimed that you would permit the Jaffa to retain their freedom. That was an obvious ruse to-”

“No,” Ba’al said, with more sincerity in his voice than Teal’c had ever heard from him. “That offer was genuine even then.”

This gave Teal’c pause. He had never even once considered that possibility. “What was your intention in doing that?”

Ba’al chuckled. “Not for any noble cause, certainly. It was simply the easiest way to get done what must be done to stop the Ori. Why would I want to waste my time fighting the Jaffa back into slavery while an infinitely more dangerous foe is at our very doorstep? Perhaps in a century or two I may have reneged on our agreement… but to fight the Priors, I could not risk time, effort, and lives subjugating a people that would rather die free.” He chuckled again. “Shal’kek nem’ron, indeed. Perhaps I will be the first Goa’uld… to die truly free.”

“Shal’kek nem’ron indeed… brother.” And for the first time, Teal’c actually meant the appelation.

“Might I ask a favor, Teal’c?”

Teal’c tilted his head.

“I could really rather do with some food, if it’s all the same.” He passed the mug of coffee back to Teal’c. “Though, if you would like to also bring me more of that… coffee, perhaps a bit cooler… I might enjoy that.”

Teal’c bowed, rose, and turned to leave. Just before he exited the room, however, Ba’al called out one last time. “And Teal’c!”

The Jaffa turned to face him.

“One of the memories that kept coming back… I saw Cronus kill your father, and what he did that brought about Cronus’s anger. I know it doesn’t mean much… but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Teal’c stood stunned for a moment before bowing and smiling. “Had Cronus not killed my father, I would never have met Bra’tac, and learned of the dream of free Jaffa. Perhaps… it was for the best.” With that, he turned back and left.

He was almost back to the medlab when he heard the alerts go off. He rushed in, placing the food tray on a nearby table as medics rushed past him to Ba’al. “What is happening?”

“His body is rejecting the tretonin,” Lam said frantically. “His immune system is failing.” The medics rushed to do what they could to stabilize the Jaffa, but it was clear they were fighting a losing battle. Finally, Ba’al yelled over the frantic voices for Teal’c, who came to his side.

“You must fight, brother. If you perish, the hope for real change will perish with you.”

“No, Teal’c,” Ba’al said weakly. He leaned up to Teal’c with much of the last of his strength and whispered in his ear.. “It… will not. This body… is not my original one. I did not… survive with a Sarcophagus. This… is but a clone. Like… the one you killed. And because of… the Goa’uld memory, I am… linked to my other clones. I will… remember.” He drew a single final, raspy breath. “Shal’kek…”

Then the breath left him, and his vitals flatlined. The medics did everything Teal’c had seen them do dozens of times before, but Ba’al – this Ba’al – had passed. In memory of the Jaffa, Teal’c muttered, “nem’ron, brother.”

* * *

Teal’c had just finished his lunch the next day when the alerts balred again “Incoming wormhole,” reported the ever-faithful Chief over the comm. Teal’c, as usual, reported to the Control Room, and a moment later the wormhole flared into existence behind the iris. “Receiving a radio transmission, sir,” Walter reported. “It’s SG-3.” He clicked the comm open.

“SG-3, this is Stargate Command, go ahead,” Landry said.

“General, this is Colonel Mitchell. I think we’ve dealt with Chulak’s little Prior problem.”

“How’d you do that?” Landry asked, surprised.

“Well, sir, I noticed that the area around the gate was pretty rocky. Bra’tac got a band together to dig up a slab big enough to cover the Stargate, used it like an iris. Sure enough, when that Prior tried to come through… well, there wasn’t enough left of him for a matchbox.”

“A most ingenius plan, Colonel Mitchell.”

“Yeah, thought you might like that one, T. Listen, it’ll take us a while to get this big ol’ slab out of the way again, but we should be able to return to the SGC in a couple of hours. How’s our guest?”

“The Jaffa Ba’al is dead,” Landry said. “His body rejected the tretonin we gave him.”

“Shame. He could have been a wellspring of information.”

“Indeed he was, Colonel Mitchell.” In more ways than one, Teal’c added to himself.

“So, what do we tell the people here on Chulak?”

“That the Prior merely used an illusion to make us believe that Ba’al was Jaffa,” Teal’c suggested. He disliked lying to the Jaffa, but Daniel and Sam had proposed the idea and it had seemed prudent. “Between that and his failure to return, I suspect that Chulak will not welcome another Prior.”

“And then we just tell them that we executed Ba’al ourselves. I gotcha.”

“Actually,” Landry said, “I think it better to claim he died attempting to escape. I can imagine a few Jaffa on Chulak getting mighty angry if we were to take the privilege of his execution from them.”

“Yes, sir. Be home in a few hours. Ask the mess hall to have me some nice hot roast beef waiting when we get back, I’m starving.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Colonel. SGC out.” Landry cut the channel, and a moment later the light of the wormhole behind the iris winked out. Sam, who had been beside Daniel – with both behind Teal’c – mused, “I just wish we’d been able to find something to help Ba’al before he died. I doubt any Goa’uld has ever had that kind of insight on the Jaffa.”

“Or ever will again,” Daniel added.

“I am not so certain, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c commented. “Perhaps… if this shoe fit, another Goa’uld may one day wear it again.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows and looked at Sam. A passable metaphor from Teal’c? Sam smiled. “Indeed,” she said in her amused way.

She had no idea how right they might be, however, for Teal’c had kept Ba’al’s revelations to himself.

It was, after all, the right way to honor a fallen brother. He wondered, however… how would Ba’al change now that he had experienced this? He doubted if Ba’al would ever fully outwardly express anything… but there was no doubt that there would be change.

As Teal’c left the Control Room to perform his usual duties, he smiled to himself. Their next meeting with Ba’al would be most interesting, indeed.

#Stargate #Stargate SG-1 #SG-1 #Ba'al Redemption AU #hail mary #please don't suck

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ladyninjaa · 4 years

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Simmer Part 1

Imagine: Being Kai Chisaki’s pregnant experiment and being taken in by the League Of Villains. (Reader’s powers are similar to Scarlet Witch)

Also, this imagine was inspired by a nice song called Simmer sang by Hayley Williams

Kai called you his girlfriend and perhaps in the beginning, maybe that had been true...perhaps it was just to pacify your thoughts from getting out of control. At first, you weren’t sure why Kai had taken a liking to you but you were flattered by his advances and his charisma; it would eventually cost you.

It didn’t take long for his curiosity about your quirk to show; it didn’t take long for you to fall in love with a man who only wanted you for your quirk. You were young, stupid, and desperate for a home and Kai gave that to you in order to abuse you, to torture you, and to experiment on you. Before Eri, there had been you. You let it happen because you thought it was love; you let him tear your body apart and put it back together because you loved him.

How fucking stupid you were; you were a slow learner, yes, but you learned that eventually, he had never loved you. By that time, it was too late to even dare to escape Kai. You pretended to be this lovesick fool in order to survive if Kai had any inkling of your true thoughts...he’d surely kill you.

It wouldn’t have been a problem...if you hadn’t become pregnant with his child. He was usually careful with sexual intercourse but then Eri came and something sparked in him that scared you. He would stare at you as if you were some rat in his lab; it would unnerve you. Then the night came where he didn’t even bother with a condom and you figured it out.

He wanted a child; a child to experiment on just like he did on you and Eri.

Your protective instincts kicked in; no, you wouldn’t bring a child into a world where Kai was alive and when you show resistance, Kai was quick to subdue you and control you by using Eri as bait. Kai knew you cared for the girl; he let you two socialize, he let you get close to that little girl to control you, and vice versa for Eri.

You were defeated; escape plans were useless. The underground tunnels constantly were changed to ensure escape was futile.

So, imagine your shock when the raid happened and Kai left you for basically dead. He didn’t give a shit about you; never did and apparently that extended to his child swollen in your belly. He took Eri and that scared you.

They found you in the deepest parts of the underground tunnel system; almost as if Kai wanted you to disappear from existence, but they found you. You saw there horrified expressions as they entered the room armed to the teeth and came to witness a heavily pregnant young woman in a windowless, almost bare room. It didn’t take a genius to find out what they were thinking, what they were speculating in their minds of what Kai did to you and the baby.

You were free.

Until they slapped handcuffs on you.

They reassured it was for their safety--nothing in the system told them about you. Kai had made sure to erase any information about your name, your birth, your parents, and your quirk from the world. There was never a mention of you. You were something unknown and that scared them.

You didn’t speak; you couldn’t form the words or any words to form to defend yourself. So many years in captivity with Kai left you battered, scared, and almost mute. You only ever spoke to Eri and rarely to Kai.

So, here you were sitting in the back of a police cruiser being taken to some villain hospital. You weren’t a villain...right? You had never done bad things...You were positive so, why were you being treated like a villain? You guessed it was your fault, you chose to be with Kai, though it was a very manipulated choice enforced by Kai.

Your eyes focused on the ambulance speeding up ahead on the highway where they were keeping Kai shackled, strapped down, and perhaps medicated. Your hands rubbed your swollen belly as the future for your little one was unknown but it was better than the future Kai had planned for the both of you. You shuddered to think how that cruel man would tear his own child apart and put him back together for his experiments.

Kai hadn’t done that often while you were pregnant but he liked the challenge because it was easy pulling someone apart and putting them back together when it was just them but it was a challenge to do so when the subject had another human inside of her. He found it riveting and you found it horrifying. Kai did it only a handful of times and when you finally begged him to stop in case it affected the baby’s mental state, he begrudgingly stopped.

Your arms tightened around your belly as your maternal instincts began to kick in. You wouldn’t let that man live; as long as Kai was alive, your baby wouldn’t be safe, you wouldn’t be safe.

Then the explosions happened; the police officer jerked the car to avoid hitting the ambulance and swerved into the highway concrete divider. Your eyes widen in horror and activated your quirk for the first time in a very long time; red mist spread instantly as the car made an impact with the concrete divider and you and your baby were cushioned by the violent impact.

You were momentarily disorientated; so much had already happened that day, too much, that it was overwhelming your brain. You took deep breaths because you didn’t want to stress the baby; you were due in a few weeks. The police officer was knocked out but you could see he was still alive; you heard voices and your tired eyes wandered over to the ambulance that was rolled over on its side.

There was fighting between a man in a trench coat and the pro hero assigned to guard Kai. You watched quietly; eyeing the man in the trench coat. Was this the League of Villains? Hadn’t there been an alliance? Well, it wouldn’t surprise you that they betrayed Kai. Kai wasn’t exactly very likable nowadays.

The man in the trench coat, his skin was...wrinkled, discolored skin stitched crudely. You gasped at the sight; that poor man! Were those done to him by someone else or self-inflicted? The fight with the pro-hero ended quickly by another man stepping in and trapping the pro-hero in a round capsule.

Eventually, they were joined by a third man and you knew who he was because Kai talked about him, Tomura Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains. You swallowed uneasily and in slight fear seeing this man in the flesh. He was horrifying to look at.

They ripped Kai out of the ambulance and rolled him out on the stretcher, surrounding him like lions circling a wounded gazelle. Were they going to kill him? You watched eagerly as Tomura spoke to Kai in an almost mocking manner. The second man with the compressing quirk took Kai’s arm.

Your eyes widen with excitement.

Yes, make him suffer! You inwardly cried out.

Tomura leaned over to grasp Kai’s other arm and you watched as Kai’s arm began to decay and Tomura sliced the lower part of his arm clean off. Blood splattered on the road and for a moment, you felt sick despite your excitement to see Kai suffering although nowhere near what he put you, your baby, and Eri through.

Tomura was mocking him and laughing.

Weren’t they going to kill him!? Your mind screamed, No! He needs to be killed! You screamed before realizing you were still in handcuffs. You stared at them and felt the red mist crawling over the handcuffs before the handcuffs were disintegrated. Your roll your wrists and found red, angry ligation marks. You rubbed at them gently before opening the back door but found it locked.

Irritation spiked in you and without thinking, slammed your hand encased in red mist against the door and it went flying through the air. That caught the attention of the three men; they whirled around to see you, a heavily pregnant woman climbing out of the police cruiser.

Tomura’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “Who is that?” He asked eyeing your swollen belly.

“I’m not sure,” The one with the blue eyes and discolored patchy skin answered equally as surprised and confused, “She doesn’t look happy though.”

“I don’t fight women,” The last one with the compressing quirk quipped in, “Especially pregnant women.”

“Why haven’t you killed him?” You snarled at them.

Tomura looked over at Kai momentarily, “Do you want us to?” Tomura asked smoothly without hesitation. You had a powerful quirk otherwise why would Kai keep you? It didn’t take a genius to figure out who you were and why you were there. Your eyes had been to glow red as the red mist began to expand angrily and Tomura felt the pressure hit his body hard.

Yes, she’s very powerful, Tomura thought quietly, she would fit in with us.

“I won’t repeat my question,” You replied with a bit more restraint, “Please.” You added hastily feeling tears in your eyes.

“A swift death would be merciful,” Tomura spoke to you with strange kindness, “And this man certainly doesn’t deserve that, does he?” He asked you with his head tilt to the side. The red mist was descending back to the woman slowly. “I can only imagine what he did to you,” He paused and added in a bit more carefully, “What he did to your baby.”

You flinched and your hands flew to your swollen belly.

Tomura felt a spike of rage roll through him, “So, instead we make him suffer.” Tomura told you, “He’s a useless man, now. Would you like to see our handy work?” He asked moving to the side and gesturing towards Kai who hadn’t even spoken a word.

You hesitated and asked quietly, “He won’t hurt us anymore?”

Tomura shook his head, “No, he’ll never hurt anyone anymore.” He answered while his two henchmen stood back; watching the woman with pity in their eyes. You swallowed uneasily and shuffled over to Kai and met his yellow eyes. You flinched but Kai didn’t say anything, he merely stared at you.

You stared back and you felt the rage in you swirl inside of you frantically. Kai’s eyes widen as your hand slammed on his chest, red mist exploding from your hand and a silent scream came from Kai. His veins protruding against his flesh and then his veins became red and then Kai screamed in agony.

Your eyes were glowing red; a blood lust red as you stared at the man who made your life hell; who hurt your baby, who hurt Eri. He was beginning to arch his back in agony; you were killing him.

A gentle hand on your shoulder scared you out of your rage-induced haze, you flinched and suddenly Kai was silent. The red mist was gone and your eyes were no longer red. You saw Tomura standing beside you, “He isn’t worth the blood on your hands.” Tomura spoke quietly, “Let him suffer now.”

You took a step away from the stretcher and looked hopelessly around unsure what to say or do. “Come with us,” Tomura suggested with a shrug, “We aren’t too bad, at least not as bad as him,” Tomura kicked Kai’s stretcher with a look of disdain, “We’ll take care of you.”

“How?” You asked without thinking.

Tomura pointed at your stomach, “Once they learn that child is his, you won’t be treated with much kindness. Even if you are his victim, they won’t care. We’ll protect you, we won’t treat you unkindly.”

“Why?” You dared to ask with a wobbly voice.

“I don’t particularly like pregnant women being treated wrongly,” Tomura shrugged, “Besides, you kept the baby even knowing who the father was; that makes you strong.” Tomura had wished his own stupid mother had wanted him. Tomura wasn’t completely heartless, he knew that. Besides, her quirk, whatever it was, was incredibly powerful so, that was an added bonus.

“You don’t have anywhere else to go right now, do you?” Tomura questioned knowingly, “Stay with us for now and if you want to leave then we’ll let you leave without resistance.”

You glanced at his two companions and they were watching you curiously, “I’m due in a few weeks,” You mumbled going to rub your belly, “I doubt you’ll have much use for me.”

“I’m not offering you to join our cause,” Tomura replied with annoyance, “I’m offering you a place for you and your baby something you don’t have at the moment,” He sighs and adds, “Besides, if you want to be useful, we can arrange that.” He shrugs.

“You better decided quickly,” The man with the discolored skin patches drawls, “Our time is running out.”

You look down at your belly and pray to God these men were better than Kai--though anything or anyone was better than Kai. You gave a faint nod and Tomura offered his hand out to you to take. You eyed it warily and he rolled his eyes, “If I wanted to do that, I would have already done so.” He said snappishly.

You couldn’t help it but you laugh.

The three men couldn’t help but stare at the soft smile on your face.

You took Tomura’s hand, “Thank you.”

Tomura gently began leading you away from the chaos they created with his companions positioning behind the both of you, “What’s your name?” Tomura asked.

“Y/N, nice to meet you.” You responded feeling a little bit about today’s events.

Also, so, this isn’t a Tomura pairing, lol. It’s gonna be a Dabi pairing, hehe, so yes, another part!

#my hero academia imagine #boku no hero headcanons #dabi imagine #dabi my hero academia #imagine

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imdoingthismspaintadventure · 4 years

Text

Worm 2.09 (part 2) - In which they seem like good people

Sorry, I had been gone for a while.

Let’s continue then!

I nodded, absorbing the information. It sounded very underwhelming to me, but I was willing to admit I could be underestimating it.

We were discussing Alec’s power last time, and how it sounded silly but it could be really OP in the right hands

“Well,” I said, after a long pause, “I think I pretty much get what everyone can do, then. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Bitch can turn those dogs into those freakish monsters I saw the other night?”

Sitting a few feet away, Bitch muttered, “They aren’t freakish.”

I think Bitch’s power is the most obvious of the group, so it’s normal it hadn’t been discussed yet.

Lisa answered my question, ignoring her. “Rachel can do it with any dog, actually,” she said, stressing the name, “And no codenames when we’re not in costume, ‘kay? Get in the habit of using the right name at the right times, and it’s that much harder to slip.”

It was hard to think of Rachel by her real name. Bitch seemed really fitting given the stunt she had pulled. I apologized to Lisa, “Sorry.”

Yeah slip-ups concerning secret identities and the like could be baaad

Pfft, I love these little inside-comments Taylor makes, like the bitch thing.

Lisa gave a small nod in response, then told me, “She can use her power on any dog, but only Brutus, Judas and Angelica are trained well enough that they’ll listen to her when they’re pumped up.”

Oh so her power juices up the dogs, but doesn’t make them submit to her control like Taylor’s power does with her bugs. She has to actually train them

Makes sense, as Bitch seems to care for her dogs quite a bit (”They aren’t freakish...”) while Taylor really only uses her bugs as a means to an end, and even feeds some to others.

I really like when the nature of the superpower fits the kind of person that it belongs to, and can be used to explore their personality further.

Ah, so that was it. “And Brian makes that oily darkness that screws up your hearing. The Parahumans wiki said it was darkness generation.”

Brian smiled, “I put that into the wiki myself. It’s not wrong, but it does catch people off guard when they think they know what you can do, and there’s something more to it.”

That is something people would do if superpowers were real, no doubt! Editing the wiki about their own powers, either to bring attention to themselves or to obfuscate the truth. Very nice detail to add.

Lisa added, “It’s not just hearing. It also cuts off radio signals and dampens the effects of radiation.”

“That’s what her power tells her, anyways. I haven’t had much chance to test that part of things. I get by as is,” Brian said. He turned his hand palm up and created a handful of the darkness. It was like smoke, but so absolutely black that there was no texture to it. It was like someone had taken a scalpel to reality and the blackness was what was there when everything else was gone. I couldn’t even gauge the dimensions of it, unless I looked at it from a different perspective. Even then, with the way the darkness shifted and billowed like smoke, it was hard to judge the shape.

Brian’s darkness nullifies or weakens wavelengths and senses! That’s amazing! I can see how it could be really really useful.

I love the description of the darkness. It’s absolutely pitch-black, like when you were staring at something bright and then turn all lights out. That darkness so all-consuming you can’t make out dimensions or distances inside of it. Only in this case contained within a single place on his hand.

It remains me of the nothing from The Neverending Story, in that they both feel inherently wrong.

The Nothing was way more unsettling and indescribable though. Especially in the book.

More of it just kept pouring from his hand, climbing upwards to cover the top of the room. As the light from the windows near the upper edges of the room and the florescent bars on the ceiling was cut off, the room got a great deal darker.

He closed his hand into a fist, and the darkness thinned out and disintegrated into strands and tatters, and the room brightened again. I looked at the light coming in from the windows and was surprised it wasn’t later.

It can expand and cover the whole room just like that?

Imagine going up against these guys and you suddently get surrounded by this type of dark abyss and completely lose your bearings. That sounds scary as fuck.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Nineteen minutes before five,” Lisa said. She didn’t look at a watch or a clock as she said it, which was unsettling. It was a reminder that her power was constantly available to her.

Lisa’s power is still by far the most dangerous, with the tactical advantage she represents in any battle. She’s also the most fundamental threat to Taylor’s little undercover plan, easily.

Brian asked me, “Do you have somewhere you need to be?

“Home, I guess,” I admitted, “My dad will wonder where I am.”

I bet Danny could never imagine in a million years the type of situation you are in.

“Call him,” Lisa suggested, “Now that the introductions are over with, you can just hang out for a bit, if you want.”

“We could order pizza,” Alec suggested. Then when Lisa, Brian and Bitch all made faces, he added, “Or maybe everyone’s sick of pizza and we could order something else.”

“Stick around?” Brian made it a question.

Alec really is the most chill out of all of them.

This all feels so normal, hard to believe we were having a fight just moments ago.

I glanced at Bitch. She was sitting on the table behind one of the couches and looking like a mess, with a bloody bandage over one ear, blood smeared below her nose and lip, and a bit of green around the gills that suggested she was feeling a little worse for wear. With her in that state, I didn’t feel particularly threatened. Staying meant I could work to get things more copacetic and maybe dig for a bit more information. I’d also missed socializing with people – even if it was under false pretenses with a group that included an apparent sociopath. It had been a sucky day. Just chilling out sounded good.

Damn Taylor really fucked her up! Maybe even Rachel respects her more now, with that warped view of things she seems to have. Or maybe she is more pissed off, hard to tell, don’t know her enough yet.

Taylor’s clearly looking to socialize with them, but I like her attempt to justify it to herself as part of her undercover mission. Oh boy you’re totally going to end up becoming a member for real

“Okay,” I decided, “Yeah, I think I’d like to.”

“Phone’s in the kitchen if you want to call your dad,” Lisa said.

I looked over my shoulder as I headed across the loft. The others got settled on the couches, with Alec turning on the TV while Lisa and Brian took a second to clean up.

I found the phone and dialed my dad.

“Hey dad,” I said, when I heard the phone being picked up.

This has the potential to be awkward, painful, sad or any of the three

“Taylor. Are you alright?” He sounded worried. It was unusual, I supposed, my not being home when he got back from work.

“I’m fine, dad. Is it cool if I hang out with some people tonight?”

There was a pause.

Yeah that’s not normal for her

As an introvert, I imagine it would be jarring if my parents heard I’d be staying for dinner at a stranger’s house unnanounced.

“Taylor, if there’s anyone that’s making you make this call… the bullies or someone else, tell me everything is fine. If you’re not in trouble, tell me your mother’s full name.”

Oh that is really smart and really great on Danny’s part. You’re a good dad, Danny.

I felt momentarily embarrassed. Was it so unusual for me to hang out with people? I knew my dad was just trying to keep me safe, but it was bordering on the ridiculous.

I feel like in a world with supervillains people would be more paranoid in general about these things.

“Annette Rose Hebert,” I told him, “Really dad, it’s cool.”

“You’re really okay?”

My gaze roved over the kitchen, taking in the details, as I gave him my assurances.

“Better than ever. I kind of made some friends,” I said.

Well that’s kinda true I guess...

My eyes settled on their dining room table. There was a stack of money, wrapped with a paper band just as the money in the lunchbox had been. Beside the money, plain as day, was the dark gray metal of a handgun.

....Fuck

Well that’s a really effective visual to drive home the reality of the situation she’s in and of the people she’s hanging out with...

My attention caught by the gun, I only barely caught my dad’s question. “What are they like?”

“They seem like good people,” I lied.

....

That’s such a good ending line. It gave me chills.

What kind of hole are you digging for yourself here with this?

...

Well, I’m hooked.

#worm #worm parahumans #parahumans #parahumans liveblog #worm liveblog #wildbow

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum Part 4 (Alfie Solomons x OFC)

Thank you everyone for your patience with this. Finally!! Here is the next part! I am not sure when I will have Part 5 & 6 done but I promise they are already plotted out...just got to write them. So this takes place in Season 2, so we get to see our beloved Alfie in his gangster glory.

Warnings: Swearing, some racial slurs, mild sexual content, nothing major

Words: 10k

The Difference Between Champagne and Rum

Part 4- Chance Encounters and Necessary Libations

~1922~

“Fuckin’ Italians.” Alfie Solomons muttered as he pushed through the door of Darby Sabini’s club in London. The obnoxious mixture of perfume, cologne and cigarette smoke assailed his senses making his throat close up. For the briefest of moments his mind returned to the smoke-filled, blood-saturated fields in France, with that nauseating smell making his throat constantly feel like it would rather seal itself closed than force more of the poisonous air into his lungs. Bombs going off. Piss running through the trench, mixing with the fresh blood. Men, boys really, screaming for God or their mothers…or crying out for death. Quickly Alfie shook his head before the memories could escape the locked box in his mind that was reserved for them. No, he had a different kind of pain in the ass to deal with currently.

He moved just off to the side of the main entrance, eyeing the swarms of men with slicked-back hair, women in flapper dresses and pearls, and the workers hovering in the shadows waiting to assist the guests. Realistically, the pause was also to give his hip a moment’s respite before he had to pretend the pain radiating like a flare out of his right hip was nothing. He would rather suffer then give Sabini one hint of weakness. The man was a shark, sniffing blood in the water and attacking anything weaker than himself. He scanned the place, noting the gaudy décor, bold colors and the aura of alcohol and lust infused in the air seeking to corrupt the mind with every breath. This was definitely Sabini’s place. Alfie sent a silent prayer heavenward that he never had to cross this threshold again. This place was certainly far from kosher. After he left, he might have to repent of sins he had not even committed just to cleanse himself of the stench of this place.

“Fuckin’ hip.” He rubbed a hand over it for a moment before straightening. The sooner he met with Sabini, the sooner he could leave. “Let’s get this shit done.”

Black hat on, long black coat hanging off his wide shoulders, scowl on his face- he stepped out of the shadows and moved forward. The guests parted before him, like Moses parting the Red Sea. Not that he minded, he actually got a thrill out of seeing people’s reaction when in his presence. He could be the personification of intimidating when he chose to be. His cane tapped on the floor with each step, only taking some of his weight. It could be its own added force of intimidation. A solid strike with it had taught many people it could be used for more than just a handicap.

“Mr. Solomons!” One of Sabini’s men finally approached him. The pinstripe suit, slicked back hair and thin moustache were enough of a giveaway before the man even opened his mouth to speak in his thick accent. “Mr. Sabini informed me to meet you at the entrance.”

“Yeah? Kinda hard to do that when you got your fuckin’ tongue down that girl’s throat, eh?” Alfie pointed at a girl walking by in a cream-colored dress, attempting to adjust it back into place. “Where is Sabini? He said to meet him here.”

The man attempted to wipe the lipstick off his lips, causing some to smear on his cheek, never mind the few spots on his neck he seemed oblivious too. “Mr. Sabini had an important family meeting come up. Once that is finished, he would meet with you. It should not take long.”

Alfie grumbled, rubbing a hand over his mouth and jaw, his beard prickling the skin. The idea of waiting for Sabini sounded awfully boring and insulting. Yet he needed to have this meeting. If for nothing else then confirmation that his new alliance with those gypsies was still worth his time.

Somehow the man seemed to sense Alfie’s decision to stay and gestured for him to follow. They passed the dance floor, nearby tables being used for both alcohol and snow, and the band at the head of the room. There was a slightly elevated section that the wop led him too. Only a handful of others sat at the tables, too focused on their own conversations and drinks to pay any attention to Alfie.

“I’ll inform Mr. Sabini of your arrival, he will be out soon.” The man gestured to a table in which Alfie took a seat. “All drinks are on the house.”

Alfie watched the man scurry off before ordering a whiskey when a server approached. If Sabini had not shown his ugly face before Alfie finished his drink, he would leave. Fuck this waiting-power game Sabini was playing. The truce between the two of them wavered like a flickering flame, some moments stronger than others but this newest insult was too much. He was affecting Alfie’s business and that was something the Jewish gangster would not tolerate.

His thoughts turned to his schedule for tomorrow and what needed to get done. Ollie had been harping on him to get a secretary with how business and paperwork had been expanding and piling up. Each time Ollie tried to bring it up, Alfie’s glare would shut him down. He did not need nor want someone else sticking their nose in his books and affairs.

About halfway through his whiskey he heard footsteps approach from behind. They were not Sabini’s usual cocky stride. No, they were light and with a clip from high heels. Alfie internally rolled his eyes. He wondered if Sabini sent a whore to distract him, he would not put it past the arrogant wop to try that.

“Is this seat taken?”

Her soft, sweet voice swept over him, causing him to tighten his fingers around his glass. His plan to be rude or ignore her flew out of the window. Her voice was a siren’s call, a lingering song from his past that he had never truly forgotten.

The chair across from his slid out and she gracefully settled herself. Light caught and danced off all the silver beads on her sleeveless gray flapper dress. Long gray gloves covered her hands that held a flute of champagne. His eyes traced up her form to her red, plump lips and delicate features to stare into her hypnotic gaze with gemstone eyes. The biggest change was her shortened hair, a bob now, very fitting with the current style apparently but a part of him lamented the loss of her long, sleek, blonde hair.

The air froze between them. Time and space no longer mattered. Their eyes beheld one another as if a magnetic force refused to let them escape. Trapped in this disbelieving look. Trapped in this moment. Yet there was nowhere else Alfie would rather be. Even after all this time, even after all the shit he had seen and survived, even though it had years since he last saw her…she was still the most beautiful woman to him. He doubted that was something that would ever change.

“It is you.” She breathed out as if momentarily in awe.

“Angel?”

A small smile tilted her lips up. “Damn. Alfie Solomons in the flesh. This must be my lucky day.”

A sound between a snort and a laugh emerged from his own mouth but never once did his eyes come off of her…not did hers leave his. A bubble of silence encased them but it never felt uncomfortable. They just stared at one another as if seeing the moon for the first time. His mind struggled to convince itself that the woman sitting before him was the very same woman he had pinned after for so long. Eight years had passed since he last laid eyes on her. Eight years in which he went to war and returned to expand his empire and reputation. The year before the war ended, her letters stopped. One of the only sources of light and joy in that fucking war ceased and it hit him harder than the bomb blast that sent him to the hospital. All his hopes, dreams and promises of reuniting with her ended then. Yet here she sat in front of him now.

His brain finally decided to start functioning again and he asked the first thing that came to mind. “What are you doin’ here? Your last letter said you was in America.”

She tensed minutely, barely anyone would notice but his eyes were trained on her and did not miss her reaction. After taking a quick sip of her champagne, she answered him. “I have been. I am currently traveling for business.”

“Business?”

“Mmm…I am not sure if you have heard but over in America, this awful law was passed and now alcohol is illegal. Apparently, it is the root of all evil, if you listen to some of the old women.”

“And where does business come in?”

She shrugged casually, peering over the dance floor for a moment. “There are some people willing to pay for alcohol, especially those with money…they just lack the connections to grant them this great evil.”

“So that s’where you come in. You’re a supplier of an illegal substance.”

“I prefer to think of it as a supplier of the finer things in life and good times.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. Even after all these years, she still continued to surprise him. “So what you sayin’, yeah, s’you still a trouble maker.”

“My dear Alfie,” she gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest in mock horror, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Yeah, yeah, you s’fuckin’ angel. What are you doin’ at this club?”

She rolled her eyes, glancing around quickly. “My business partner and I were supposed to meet with Mr. Sabini but we have been waiting over an hour already.”

“Why the fuck you meetin’ with the likes of him?” He narrowed his eyes at her. Something within him roared in anger at the idea of her meeting with scum like Sabini.

“My partner thinks he has connections we could use. I disagree. With what I have heard, he is not a man to trust easily.”

“Yeah, you s’right, love. Stay well away from ‘im. What kind of connections you lookin’ for? Maybe I can help.”

“I actually planned on calling on you next week. Between us, your reputation may have…frightened my partner. He does not want to utilize your resources. He says you are too volatile and unpredictable.”

“Fuck ‘im too.”

She laughed shamelessly, eyes crinkling as she tilted her head back.

Heaven above, that sound was like music to his ears. He could not help as his own lips turned up at her amusement. Every fiber in his body demanded he snatch her up and leave with her, never let her out of his sight again, beg her to smile and laugh for him because he had forgotten how it warmed him from the inside out. Although, if he somehow doubted that she would approve of his idea of kidnapping her. That idea made his smile broaden slightly. They both may have changed since they last saw one another but he doubted her independent streak had abated much.

“Come to me bakery tomorrow. Yeah, I’ll show you me bread and give you some names to check out.”

“I would like that.”

“Right! S’settled!” He clapped his hands together loudly, drawing the attention of the few other patrons sitting nearby. “Stop by in the mornin’. Mmm…yeah. I’ll have Mrs. Liebgott in the front expectin’ you.”

“If I may be so bold…” She gestured to his hands. Curious, he nodded and watched as she changed seats to sit next to him. Hesitantly she pulled his left hand closer and seemed to be examining it.

“S’you a gypsy now? Gonna read me palm for me fortune?”

A small smile appeared, the only indicator that she heard his tease. Now so close, her scent taunted him. That same lavender scent, even after all these years, still hung around her like a pleasant aura. As subtly as possible, he inhaled deeply, wishing to permanently brand his nostrils with her scent. Fucking hell, what was happening to him? He was starting to sound like some kind of miscreant stalker.

“Is that…from the necklace I gave you?”

He glanced down to see her finger gently touching one of his rings. “Yeah, the chain got damaged during…” he swallowed thickly, “…during a fuckin’ blast. Kept it in me pocket until I got back to London. Eventually had the gold melted from the chain to form the ring and had the star put on it.”

He wondered what she thought of it. The star was no longer perfect like when she had given it to him. There were dings and scratches on its surface. One of the star’s spikes was dramatically shorter than the others. Yet it still was the same star and same gold, just now a thick gold band encasing the simple gold northern star.

“I can’t… I am surprised you kept it.”

Unsure if those were really tears in her eyes or just a reflection off the club lights, he placed his other hand over hers. Her hands were now sandwiched between his.

“Course I kept it. It was the company’s fuckin’ good luck charm, given to me by me angel, yeah? Why the hell would I get rid of it?”

A genuine smile appeared as she squeezed his hand. “I am glad it brought you luck. From what your reputation says, even the devil himself could not have taken you down, Mr. Solomons.”

“Fuckin’ hell, he tried a few times. I had a promise to keep though. An angel told me I wasn’t allowed to die.”

“You certainly are a man of your word.”

“Mmm…yeah, yeah. That s’me.” His thoughts seemed to move sluggishly when he realized how close they were. Hands clasped between the two of them, bodies leaning forward. It felt surreal. She was truly here…in the flesh. All he wanted to do was pull her into his lap, wrap his arms around her and never let her go. Yet it had been eight years. He had changed, and he suspected she had too. Did she still want him like he wanted her? Could she? Or was this all a dream sent to torment him?

A voice destroyed their peaceful moment. A figure coming to stand near them. “Sarah, I think it’s time we leave.”

“Of course, Hector.” Sarah squeezed Alfie’s hands one last time before releasing him and standing up.

Alfie stared at the man who helped Sarah slip on her fur-lined coat. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the man kept his hand on her lower back.

“Who is your friend here?” The man asked, his American accent easily recognizable. His blue eyes peered through his thin-rimmed spectacles, an intelligence there that was undeniable.

“Yes, my apologies. Hector, this is Alfie Solomons. Alfie, this is Hector Richardson, my business partner.”

Hector nodded slightly. “You seem to know each other well for how long you were talking.”

“We s’old friends, yeah. Haven’t seen her in years.” Alfie said, drumming his fingers on his cane.

“Old friends.” Hector repeated slowly. “Well pleasure to meet you, Mr. Solomons, but as I stated earlier, Sarah and I need to leave.”

Alfie grumbled, an unintelligent consent, wishing for this Hector to find himself at the bottom of the Thames. He did not like the look of him. He could not be much older than himself but this American carried himself like somehow Alife had insulted his mother. He had a handsome enough face, minus the slightly hooked nose and thin lips pursed in annoyance. What bothered Alfie the most was the possessive touch he had on Sarah. The idea to do some digging into this- Hector Richardson- sounded worthwhile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel?”

“Yes, I promise.” She winked at him, furthering the scowl on Hector’s face. The two walked away, getting lost in the midst of the crowded club.

Her heady scent of lavender lingered behind like a pleasant memory. The feel of her hands in his brought a warmth to his soul that had been cold for a long time. In all reality, he knew he was overreacting to her reappearance. It had been eight years since he last seen her and truthfully at any moment she could vanish once again. Yet the irrational piece of his brain he usually silenced chirped that it felt like a missing piece was back in his life.

Grumbling to himself, he rubbed his hand over his mouth and jaw, thoughts now turning to tomorrow and their meeting. He could not help but smirk at the knowledge that she was getting into the illegal liquor business. Even after all these years, the girl who should have been a princess and high above the rest of the peasants was still rolling in the mud with them. Even if she still carried a dignity and grace about her that made others turn heads and take notice. She may be in the mud with the peasants but she was a queen, no one could deny that.

“Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie turned to the wop from earlier who approached, now cleansed of lipstick.

“Mr. Sabini can see you now.”

Quickly Alfie slammed the rest of his whiskey back, that familiar burn bringing him back to the present and this god-forsaken meeting.

“A’right, lets get this done, mate.”

*****

-The next day-

“So you see sir…that’s…that’s what ‘appened. Just an accident.” The young man stood quaking under Alfie’s gaze, eyes darting around as if any of the other bakers would step in and help him.

Alfie grunted, turning to stare at the large spill of rum soaking into the floor. All he could see was money wasted, laying on the ground. Sure the other lads had managed to save most of the rum in the broken barrel but that did not alleviate one of the newest bakers from learning to be careful with the goods. Normally the foreman on the floor would be dealing with this mess but unfortunately Ishmael was out checking a new batch of cane sugar from Jamaica before bringing it back to the bakery. So that left dealing with this imbecile to the boss.

“Clean this fuckin’ mess up.” He demanded, paused a moment to see the young man nod erratically then turned to head back to this office. The shit that needed to get done today kept piling up without any signs of a reprieve in the future for him. This was something he really did not need to happen today. A shipment was supposed to go out tonight that he wanted to look over once more then there was that pub owner he needed to address for his late payments along with…

“I’m sorry, sir… I won’t spill no more rum. Thank you, sir…”

Before the young man finished uttering his sentence, Alfie turned around to tower over the lad. He glared, summoning all his repressed anger and intimidation, then poured it like hot oil over the lad.

“May I remind you…that the distinction between bread and rum, yeah…IS NOT DISCUSSED!” Alfie ended roaring into the quivering lad’s face. “GET IT THROUGH THAT THICK SKULL OR I’LL FUCKIN’ CRACK IT OPEN!” Without waiting for a response, he turned and started towards his office. If the smell of piss was any indicator, he guessed he would not have any troubles again with that one.

Back in his office, he slammed the door shut, startling Cyril from his nap on his bed on the floor. The bull mastiff looked up at his master before laying his head back on his front paws, watching the muttering man, unaffected by his foul mood.

Shuffling around his cluttered desk, Alfie checked his pocket watch and groaned. It was only 9am and already he wished for the day to be over. He dropped down onto his seat to stare at the paperwork before him. It was an unending pile that he seemed unable to escape no matter the number of late nights or early mornings. Slipping his halfmoon spectacles on, he started again on the notice he had been reading earlier. Someone must have dropped it by late last night. It was from one of the police officers on his payroll, saying how they were getting a new captain and a few new recruits with a list of names. Alfie made a mental note to have the captain checked out, see if he could be of use before Sabini got to him.

A gentle knocking brought Alfie out of his thoughts but kept his eyes glued to the paper before him. “Oi! What s’want, Ollie?”

The creaking of his door alerted him to Ollie’s entrance.

“This better be good, yeah, or you can just fuck right off now.”

“Would you prefer for me to come another time?”

The teasing, sweet, feminine voice had Alfie almost giving himself whiplash with how fast his head jerked up. Ollie stood just inside the office, keeping the door open, meanwhile Sarah stood in the doorway looking like a vision as usual, a mischievous smirk on her lips.

“I like the spectacles by the way. They make you look…scholarly.”

Alfie snorted, taking the glasses off before rising. “Fuckin’ hell, love. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I said I would. I always follow through with my promises.” She stepped further in, her heels clicking on the wood paneled floor. “I can come back another day if you are busy.”

“No, no. S’fine.”

“Ollie,” she turned back to smile at the man, “perhaps that pot of tea and scones would be beneficial right now.” She started to peel her fur-lined coat off, the same from the prior night if Alfie was not mistaken. Ollie immediately jumped to her aid, taking her coat and hanging it up on the hooks near the door. Sometimes Alfie wondered at the true intelligence of his assistant but the lad was certainly raised well in how to treat female guests. Probably due to his mother who was a tyrant when she wanted to be but would tear down governments for anyone she cared for.

“Of course, Mrs. Bondurant. Anything else I can do, Alfie?”

“No, just that.” He leaned on the edge of his desk, running a hand over his mouth and jaw. “Then we aren’t to be disturbed, yeah? When Ishmael returns, he can leave the papers with you for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Ollie gave one quick nod, his shaggy hair shaking with the movement before closing the door behind him.

“Mrs. Bondurant, eh? You married?”

She smiled slyly before taking time to look over his office. “Would it change things if I was?”

“Well that means I’ve been having inappropriate thoughts about a married woman, yeah, very inappropriate.” He watched her, wishing he could read her mind. He wondered what she thought of his office. It was cluttered with bookshelves and files. A fireplace sat abandoned in one corner, only used on the rarest of occasions in the dead of winter. There were a map London on one wall and a couple drawings from an local artist he admired. He also did not mind admiring her in the cream calf-length skirt and plum blouse, a very sophisticated and modern look. She looked ready to take on the world, especially in those heels that made her legs look like a divine treat but were sharp enough to stab someone with. He wondered if she wore them because of how they looked or as a weapon. Probably with her, both reasons.

Slowly, she moved from where she had been admiring a drawing to stand before him. “And if I am not? If I am simply Sarah?”

“You ain’t never been just Sarah to me.”

Her lips twitched as her eyes trailed over his face and eyes, reading and weighing out his words. One of her hands came up to brush through his bristly beard, her thumb rubbing across the scar just above his jaw.

“France.” He answered her unspoken question. “Shrapnel from a bomb.”

“I heard you were made a captain.”

“Not noteworthy, love.”

“I disagree, I like the sound of Captain Solomons.”

There was that teasing, mischievous look back in her gemstone eyes that he remembered so well. Standing so close, even in her heels, her eyes were level with his chin. A strange realization that so much had changed since they last saw one another except for this. She was still the perfect height in his opinion. Her hand on his cheek, he drew his own hand over her cheekbone before running through her shortened hair.

“Why you cut your hair?”

“Are you not aware? It is the latest fashion.” She batted her eyelashes and pouted her lips, the perfect image of a spoiled aristocrat.

He chuckled, running his hand through more slowly this time. At least it did not feel full of product like some women wore their hair. “Sure it is. Never guessed you’d be one to follow the rules.”

“Maybe I will grow it back out. It does help me not to stand out.”

“Love, you are a beautiful angel. Anyone who don’t see that is a fuckin’ fool.”

“I see you still have that charmer’s tongue and honeyed words.”

“I am a man of many talents.”

“Mmm…I seem to recall a few of those talents, especially involving that tongue of yours.”

“Only a few? S’shame, yeah, gonna need to fix that, yeah.” His hands landed on her hips, holding her close. Their gazes remained locked, a heat spilling out between them to fill the air. This teasing, flirtatious banter they so easily fell into felt different this time. Maybe it was because they were different people now. Maybe it was because the time spent apart. Yet Alfie guessed it was because they no longer were hindered by her family and his limited time before the war. No, now they were free. He hoped.

“Please tell me you s’unmarried, I don’t need to be fightin’ no angry husband later.”

“Afraid you will lose?”

“No, Angel, its cos if I kiss you, I ain’t lettin’ you go again, damn your husband.”

“How do I know you are not married?”

“Been too busy.” He dragged his lips over the shell of her ear, loving the way her hands gripped the front of his shirt like a safety line. “Now answer me question, love.”

“No, I am not married.”

“Mmm…good, good.”

“What now, Captain Solomons?” One of her hands reached down to gently cup his growing erection. “I thought I was here to talk business and see your bakery.”

He suppressed a groan, trying to keep his thoughts in line. It was hard to think beyond this bubble of lust they were creating. The lock on the office door had been replaced lately, so being disturbed was not an issue. There was nowhere to lay her down though. If memory served him correctly, she did not mind being pinned against a wall (although his hip may protest). He wondered how she would feel about utilizing his desk. It was very sturdy. His hands slipped down to cup her ass, pulling her closer as he lightly kissed a trail down her neck. “It ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And of course that was the moment Ollie chose to reenter with the tray of tea and biscuits. Opening the door, his eyes fixated on the two, his mouth gaping slightly. In all honesty, he probably did not expect to see his boss caressing this strange woman as one of her hands cupped his cock, her other tangled in his hair, pulling his head closer. That would give anyone a shock.

“Ah, um…I can come…”

“That is alright, Ollie.” Sarah stepped away from Alfie, somehow disentangling herself with ease and speed that astounded him. Probably did not help all the blood had rushed from his brain down to his cock. “Tea sounds delightful. I have been missing a good pot of English tea. Soothes the soul.” She peeked over her shoulder at Alfie, who had a scowl on his face. “Business before pleasure, sweetheart.”

Ollie almost dropped the tray on Alfie’s desk with that last comment.

Grumbling, Alfie tried to subtly adjust himself and get his mind off the feeling of how good her body felt under his hands. God, it was like the best wet dream and a nightmare simultaneously; having her so close and ready, yet then it being ripped away suddenly.

“Oh? And who is this handsome boy?”

Alfie straightened, fear coursing through him. So lost in her he had forgotten about the dog. “Sarah, wait-“

It was too late, she knelt down on the other side of Alfie’s desk near Cyril’s bed. Even Ollie momentarily looked horrified. Alfie expected to hear a cry or a growl, yet the immediate sound that greeted him was her cooing and a tail thumping. Coming around to the other side of his desk, shocked did not even begin to describe how he felt at the scene before him. There lay his massive dog that had torn men to shreds in protection of Alfie, who normally disliked strangers and even then was choosy about who he let touch him….now lay on his back, legs sprawled, tongue lolling as he got his belly and chest scratched. Sarah knelt on the floor, facing him, her voice low and cooing at him like he was the sweetest puppy. It would have been comical if Alfie could wrap his head around what his eyes were seeing. Exchanging a look with Ollie only mirrored his own surprise.

“Didn’t know you s’dog person.”

She looked back at Alfie, the widest, genuine smile on her face he had ever seen. “I love dogs. They are the most loyal companions and great for cuddling.”

“Mmm…” Alfie muttered, rubbing a hand over his face and jaw. He watched a second longer, transfixed by the sight in front of him. Glancing to his side, he suddenly remembered Ollie standing there, who now was staring at her with a dreamy look. “Oi! Keep those eyes in your head, boy. Now fuck off!”

He did not have to be asked twice, most likely knowing Alfie was pissed at him already for interrupting…whatever was happening before he arrived with the tray. Ollie stumbled an apology, along with a parting before scurrying out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“Are you always so harsh with him?”

“Didn’t like ‘im starin’ at you.” He reached a hand out to help her back to her feet, much to Cyril’s dismay. Rolling her eyes, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Before he could get his hands fully back on her, she evaded him to glide over to the tray.

“Now, tell me the tale of how Alfie Solomons became a distiller of rum and owner of such a fine bakery. I must confess I tried one of those honeyed scones with Mrs. Liebgott, who is a delight herself, and it was delectable. I may have to come back just for that.” Sarah poured herself a cup of tea while she spoke then sat to blow gently on the steaming liquid. At her last comment, a soft whine came from around the side of Alfie’s desk. “Precious boy, I will come back and see you too. Oh! What is his name?”

“Cyril.” Alfie shook his head at the strangeness of this encounter, but then again, when had him and Sarah ever met like normal people. He rounded his desk to sit in his seat, shuffling some papers out of the way to not spill tea on. “Why you askin’ ‘bout me business?”

“Curiosity…perhaps I am impressed and am trying to see how the young man I once knew with bloody fists has now become such a successful businessman.”

“You forgot to mention dangerous gangster.”

“You would not be the first of those I have encountered.”

He squinted his eyes at her, disliking that comment. Gangsters were not to be trusted. Who else around here besides Sabini had she ‘encountered’? Had she somehow met the Shelbys? The fuckin’ Russians? Why could she not stay out of trouble?

As if reading his thoughts, she waved a hand dismissively. “In America. Apparently it is a growing trend. Now, I am still waiting for my story.”

“A’right. First,” he pointed a finger at her, “where this ‘Mrs. Bondurant’ business start? Then you’ll get your fuckin’ story.”

Several silent moments passed, her holding her tea cup against her lips as she stared off to the side. Softly, just above a whisper, she finally spoke. “My father disowned me, said I was a disgrace to our family name. I never fit into the mold that he wanted. Do not look at me with that pity, it truthfully was not a surprise to anyone. Once he realized I refused to be married off to benefit his business and position, he no longer had a need for me. Besides, he had my brother who was beginning to follow in his footsteps. So I went back to stay with some distant family in America…”

“That’s why your letters came from there. The men thought I had me an American sweetheart.”

She chuckled. “I remember you mentioning that. Ishmael wrote me a letter about how you got into a fight when one of the men called me a ‘whore’ or something. Still defending my honor even in the middle of a war.”

“Fuckin’ hell…he did?”

She nodded slowly, smile growing on her face.

Grumbling about useless friends under his breath, he motioned for her to continue her story.

“I traveled around some, New York City, Chicago, Charleston. I have some cousins who got into the liquor business of distribution to places willing to pay for the stuff even though it is illegal now. Apparently I have a good mind for business and numbers so they convinced me to help them.”

“That man last night…”

“He is a distant cousin, a business partner. Him and his brother are the ones I work with.”

He shook his head, secretly pleased the man was not a suitor. “Why the fuck he so possessive of you?”

“We have had a few encounters with gangsters who…who wanted me to be part of the deal. They have become a bit protective of me since. And also his wife is one of my good friends. Before we left to come here, she told him if anything happened to me, she would cut his cock off.”

He laughed, not expecting that.

“He has a valid reason to be afraid. You do not mess with Southern women, they are usually sweet and kind but they can be brutal if they want too. Anyway, after an…incident, I had to lay low for a while. Hector had me stay with some friends in Virginia who are moonshiners. Actually one of them reminded me of you. It was uncanny. His name was Forrest Bondurant. I guess at one point while I was resting, some men came to the house asking questions about me. Forrest told them I was his wife…and it just stuck. It certainly kept the men in the area from trying anything. It is not like I wanted to go by Sarah Byron anymore.”

“Mmm…what was this incident?”

She shook her head. “No, I answered your question. Now I get my story.”

Fiddling with the rings on his hands, he found himself pouring out about life after the war. Only two women in his life had been able to boss him around, his mum and the angel staring at him with eyes of interest and affection. He talked about how coming back he noticed how many men could not get work, their families forced onto the streets. Plus while he was gone, his mother started to get sick. Without proper care, because she could not afford it, she began to deteriorate. Seeing this, he began to figure out ways to make money to pay for her care. Thus the rum business began. He still had all his prior connections, memories of how everything worked and now the man power to make it a business. The idea of the bakery had actually been inspired by his mum who complained that he always came home smelling of molasses and rum. He managed to afford her the best care until she passed two years ago. Now his life consisted of his business. He still “ran” Camden, giving protection to those willing to pay for it and trying to keep the wops off his turf. He dabbled with races some but that was more Sabini’s territory. With the growing popularity of his nephew, he was thinking about getting into boxing matches more instead of it just being recreational. He was unsure how long he spoke for, her asking questions along the way. The tea and scones were long gone. Cyril had gotten up at some point and sat next to Sarah, laying his head on her knee so she could pet him absent-mindedly as she listened to Alfie.

Dramatically, the office door opened. Ishmael entered, a surprised and smug look on his face.

“What the fuck, mate?” Alfie demanded.

Ishmael glanced at his boss and friend before turning back to Sarah. His eyes scanned over her like she was a new species he had discovered. “Damn, Ollie was right.”

“Ishmael?” Her eyebrows rose as her mind seemed to connect his face to her memories.

“Yeah, love. It’s me. What you doin’ here?”

“Just talking history and business.”

Ishmael leaned against Alfie’s desk, ignoring the glare being sent his way by Alfie, focusing on her. “You comin’ down to the floor to see the bakery? I’d give you a tour.”

“Oi! You got somethin’ important cos if not then fuck off, yeah?”

“Seein’ the lovely woman who holds me friend’s heart is important.” Ishmael winked at Sarah before looking over his shoulder at Alfie, a shit-eating grin on his face. “And I came to tell you that one of our lads got in a fight with one of them Pikey boys and now that big fella, the red-head, is demandin’ to speak to you.”

“Fuck.” Alfie groaned, rolling his eyes skyward. He needed all the patience to deal with that particular man, who was good at his job but just continued to rub Alfie the wrong way constantly. Looking over at Sarah, he could read the amusement and understanding in her eyes. “Love, I’m sorry…”

“It is fine, Alfie. I am sure I have taken up more than enough of your time today. You do have a business to run.” She stood up, brushing out her skirt.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“What?”

He rose, coming around the desk to stand before her. A sudden desperation in him that he could not let her leave without knowing he would see her again soon. “Lemme take you out tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight. I still didn’t hear none of your time in America and we never talked business.”

She paused a moment, eyes scanning his face. “I would like that.”

“Mmm…good, yeah, good.” Before she could grab it, he reached over and snagged her coat, helping her into it. “Ollie! In ‘ere!”

Ollie stepped in, seeming to have been waiting just outside the door. Probably expecting to get chewed out for letting Ishmael in.

“Good. Take Mrs. Bondurant to the hotel she is staying. Use me car, yeah, have David drive you.”

“Alfie…” She started to argue, hand placed on his chest.

“No, that’s an order, yeah?”

She cupped his cheek, before pressing her lips to it. “Of course, Captain. See you tonight.”

He mumbled something unintelligent, brain suddenly on hiatus with the feeling of her lips on his skin.

Giving a brief smile to Ishmael, she followed Ollie down the walkway, looking like a goddess amongst the dim and dusty bakery.

Alfie shook his head, dragging his eyes away from the door to Ishmael to ask him a question. His foreman and friend just stared at him smirking. “What?”

“Gonna propose proper this time?”

“Ah, fuck off.”

Ishmael laughed, pushing off Alfie’s desk. “Bout time you married and started having a house full of babies. Me wife is sick of making dinners for you all the time.”

“I’m just waitin’ for you to finally die then Ruth knows I’ll marry her right after your ass is buried in the ground. ‘sides, your ankle biters like me more.”

“Well you be waitin’ around a while…don’t plan on dying yet.”

“Good, good. I need you still, you fuckin’ bastard. Now let’s go crack some heads, yeah? Cyril, c’mon boy.”

Ishmael clapped a hand to Alfie’s shoulder quick before walking out of the office. Straightening the rings on his fingers, he allowed his boss persona to rise to the surface. Alone with Ishmael, they could joke but out in the bakery, he was the boss you did not fuck with or your blood spilled on the ground. Cyril at his side, he strode out of his office, wanting to deal with this mess as quickly as possible. He had a pile of things he needed to do still but nothing would stop him from seeing his angel tonight. He cracked his knuckles. Like she said, first business then pleasure.

*****

Unfortunately business took longer than Alfie wanted. It was closer to nine that evening when his car pulled up in front of the hotel Sarah was staying at. A nice place with brick walls, banners and an attendant at the door to greet guests and provide information. Alfie let his driver go home claiming to need the drive to clear his head, when truthfully he just did not want to be around anyone. That afternoon had been exhausting from dealing with the Pikeys working in his bakery (damn Shelby for convincing him this was a good idea) and then trying to catch up on paperwork. Parking the car on the side of the street, he hopped out, almost getting hit by an erratic driver before heading towards the hotel.

“How can I be of service, sir?” The attendant politely asked when Alfie approached the double doors.

“Um, lookin’ for a friend. She s’stayin’ here.”

The attendant glanced him up and down quickly as if assessing Alfie’s worth of being allowed through his doors. Before Alfie could give him a piece of his mind, the man spoke up. “Would you, by chance, be a Mister Solomons?”

“Um…yeah.”

“Ah. A Mrs. Bondurant said she would be waiting for you at the bar, sir.”

Grumbling to himself, he nodded to the man before slipping past the double doors and heading off to the bar area on the right. His eyes shrewdly scanned over the patrons before landing on her. What should of brought elation only caused a shot of fiery anger to course dangerously through him. Sitting next to her at the bar was a man who was much too close and much too focused on her in Alfie’s opinion. He was fully turned facing her, holding a glass of amber liquid in one hand and the other draped across the back of her chair.

Sarah was only turned slightly towards him but one of her hands were carefully holding a wine glass and the other a lit cigarette. Her dress was a deep red, V-necked so her cleavage peeked out enticingly, and two strands of pearls hanging over her chest with black heels that were sharp. She looked positively beautiful and sinful at the same time.

The man brought his face closer to hers, whispering something before leaning back and chuckling about whatever it was. Sarah laughed along but it seemed fake to Alfie. To his growing rage, he witnessed the man place a hand on her thigh as he continued talking casually.

Without warning, Alfie stormed over and practically yanked the man out of his seat, causing him to spill his drink all over the counter. “Keep your fuckin’ hands and eyes off ‘er, yeah? Or I’ll cut ‘em off. Got it?” He growled into the man’s face.

“What the fuck?” The man scrambled to stand up straight, made impossible by the way Alfie was gripping the man’s suit jacket. His own voice rising to meet Alfie’s anger. “We were just talking. Who the fuck do you think you are? Get your bloody hands off me.”

Permission granted and uncaring of the amount of stares he was receiving, he pulled the man upright to get into his face. “I’m Alfie Solomons, that’s who the fuck I am.”

Alfie watched the lightbulb go off in the man’s eyes as his name sunk into his thick skull. Where there had been irritation and rising fury, now was doused away with the realization of who held him and pure fear at the unknown of Alfie’s actions.

“Good, good. Anymore questions? No? Then fuck off, mate.” He released the man, who stumbled back before righting himself. He opened his mouth as if to say something but with Alfie’s pointed glare, he clamped it shut and briskly walked away without even looking at Sarah.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Alfie turned back to Sarah. She had not moved, a single eyebrow raised as she took a sip of her wine.

“You look like you need a drink.”

He chuckled darkly. “More than one.”

Taking the man’s seat, he plopped down and ran a hand over his eyes. He signaled for a whiskey from the bartender, who quickly cleaned up the spilled drink. “Sorry, ‘m late, love, I had some unforeseen business…”

“Was that necessary?”

He stopped at her abrupt interruption. Turning slightly to face her, he eyed her. “What?”

Pursing her lips, she took a drag off her cigarette before speaking, the smoke dancing out of her lips and floating above her head. “Was it necessary to come after William like that?”

“William, eh? You two s’friends?”

“No, I just met him.”

“Then pardon me but what the fuck is the problem then? You didn’t seem to enjoy none of how close he was to you or was I readin’ that wrong? You tryin’ for his attention? Hopin’ to fuck him?”

With that, she turned to face him, emerald eyes glowing with unbridled rage. “You listen, Alfie Solomons,” she spat out, keeping her voice low but no less deadly. “I can talk to, spend time with and fuck whomever I want. I am not some innocent posh girl you need to protect anymore. Nor am I yours in any way. I am my own and I can do whatever the hell I want. If that affects us then you can be on your way and do not expect to hear from me. Am I making myself clear?”

Alfie’s own anger rose up instinctively. No one had talked to him like that in years and he remembered how much he hated it. His own blue eyes met her emerald, flames practically flickering between them with the surrounding air thick with tension. He did not flinch nor look away when the bartender hesitantly slide his drink in front of him. This battle of wills between them, staring purposefully into her heated gaze made him notice something. There was a darkness that lingered in the edges of those beautiful, gemstone eyes he had always loved so much that had not been there the times prior they had met. No, this was something new and it broke his heart. It was the same darkness that lingered in himself, in returned soldiers, in people who had seen far too much violence and their minds could not forget. She was haunted, just like him. Whatever anger he held crumbled like dust at this realization. All he could think of was pulling her into his arms to protect her from her own pain. What had happened since he had last seen her those eight years ago?

“A’right, love, a’right. You s’right. Just don’t want to see you hurt, yeah?”

After a long pause, he could see the tension drain from her posture. Slowly, she brought a hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb rubbing over his scar. “Why do you still care? Why are you still looking out for me?”

“Cos you s’me angel. You deserve it.”

A hint of tears glistened in her eyes as she held his gaze once again, but with a very different emotion this time.

“Now, it’s been a fuckin’ long day after you left. Me temper may have gotten the best of me. Here we are and this mornin’ you promised to tell me your story…mmm…so…”

“Is that so?” She chuckled, pulling her hand back to grasp her glass, and there was that twinkle in her eye that meant trouble. “Perhaps I want to see if you will beg for it?”

He leaned forward, invading her space intimately, as he whispered in her ear. “There is only one reason I would beg…and we will both be naked before that happens.” Returning to an upright position, he witnessed her pupils dilated slightly and lick her lips subconsciously. A jolt of desire shot through him at her action.

“An interesting proposal, Mr. Solomons. There is one thing I have heard that I am most curious about.”

“Mmm?”

“Some new friends I have made informed me that at the Paradise you regularly pay more for blonde company.” She smirked, lifting the cigarette to her lips again.

“Fuckin’ hell, what are you doin’ at a whorehouse?”

“I told you, I thoroughly research those who I may be doing business with.”

“You s’still trouble, Miss Sarah. Fuck…what you learn ‘bout Sabini?”

Shaking her head, she laughed making a smile appear on his own face. The prior tension between them fully gone.

“When you start smokin’?” Not that it bothered him terribly. During the war, he had become used to the smell. It was one of the few ways a soldier could attempt to relax while in the trenches. He never acquired the taste for it personally, much to the amusement of some of his men.

She shrugged, “I cannot rightly say. It just happened.”

He nodded, taking a sip of the whiskey. Not terrible stuff, surprisingly. Opening his mouth to tease her about it, the words died on his tongue as a different voice called out to her.

“Sarah? Sarah Byron, is that you?”

The tightening of her hand around her glass was the only give away of emotions. Gracefully she turned to face the man now standing behind her. Alfie’s ire returned, especially with the look this man was giving her. In his crisp suit, cropped hair and smug smile, he looked the part of an arrogant aristocrat. He practically smelled of money from family inheritance.

“Yes…Joseph?”

He smiled broadly, eyes trailing over her body. Quickly he took that last step forward, plucked her hand and kissed the back of it. “My dear Sarah, it is a true pleasure to see you. I do believe your beauty has only grown since I last saw you. Unfortunately I have a brief meeting I must attend now but after, could I take you out for a drink or food? There is a splendid restaurant not far from here my driver could take us. It has been far too long since we were able to talk without any preconceived notions and expectations.”

“Sorry, mate, she s’busy tonight.”

For the first time, the man turned his focus on Alfie. Meeting his narrowed eyes, all Alfie could think of was a serpent.

“Oh? Is she? And who are you?”

“Alfie Solomons.”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “The gangster?” He looked back at Sarah. “Fascinating company you keep, my dear.”

“And who the fuck are you?” Everything in Alfie screamed at him to stand up and have this bastard’s face meet his fist…repeatedly.

“I am Joseph Coventry, Earl of Lancashire.” Keeping his sly gaze on Sarah, he pulled the single red rose out of his suit jacket’s pocket. He held it out for her, who took it somewhat reluctantly as he spoke again. “Truly a shame I must leave but I will call on you soon. Have a pleasant evening, Lady Sarah.” After a quick peck on her knuckles this time, he headed towards a far table already containing three men dressed similarly and with an air of high class.

“What the…”

Ignoring Alfie, she turned to the bartender. “Whiskey, a whole bottle, yes that one will do. Two glasses. Put it on my tab, please.” Snatching the glass bottle and glasses, she stabbed her cigarette out and left it on the ashtray before she got up and started towards the nearby stairs.

Alfie stared at the men a moment longer…this Joseph Coventry…an arrogant bastard if he had ever met one. It might be prudent to ask around about him. Alfie could usually get a good read on people, those that were trustworthy or not. Everything about this prick made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his hand to unconsciously twitch to grab the pistol under his jacket. There was something there…something dangerous and deadly just under the surface…and the man had his eyes on Sarah. No, Alfie would not tolerate that.

After taking that moment to memorize Coventry’s face, he followed after Sarah up the stairs. He had a few new questions for her and with her purchase of a whole whiskey bottle, he was unsure how much longer she would be sober for. Although the idea of seeing her drunk did amuse him slightly, he wondered if she would be the angry type or the giggly, excessively talking type. Personally he hoped for the cuddly type but he would never take advantage of a drunk woman. He may be a low life gangster with too much blood on his hands but he did have some morals.

He quickly caught up to her on the second floor as she opened the door to room number 16. Without a word or a look back at him, she walked through and into the hotel room, leaving the door wide open. He followed, closing and locking the door behind him before scanning the place. The room certainly had an upscale feel with its floral wallpaper, wood accents and gaudy still life paintings. There were only two other doors, one he guessed led to the washroom and the other to the bedroom. His focus though turned to the woman who had collapsed onto the couch, her high heels kicked to the side, and pouring two fingers worth of whiskey. Within moments after pouring it, she slammed it down and poured another. So many questions resided on his lips but he kept them closed. Moving around the room, he tossed his coat onto a nearby wingback chair and joined her on the couch. He sat on the opposite end, allowing her space. To his surprise, she poured him a glass and wordlessly handed it to him. After pouring herself another glass, she leaned back and closed her eyes. He could not help his wandering gaze, eyes drifting to those sleek legs with more skin exposed as her dress had ridden up with her unladylike posture, and the swell of her breast, straining against her dress.

“Do you remember…” she stopped, licking her lips as of to encourage the words to come out, “…last time we saw each other. I told you I was back because I was supposed to be getting married.”

“Yeah.” Then it clicked and his eyes widened momentarily. “That…that bastard? That s’who?”

She took a tentative sip of her drink this time, still leaning back and keeping her eyes closed.

“Fuck, love, think you dodged a bullet with that one.”

A snort escaped her but it was her eyes opening and turning to look at him that caused him to finally relax.

“Tell me, Sarah.”

And so she did. He could tell she glossed over much of her story and skipped certain parts entirely. Yet he let her talk, sharing about her past eight years and things she had done. He sat mesmerized by her and her story. After the “insult” perceived by her father, he disowned her, kicking her out of the house no matter her mother begging for him to reconsider. More determined than ever to prove herself and to never let a man control her, she got on a boat and traveled back to her mother’s distant family in America. Finally America decided to join the Great War and many men were sent over to Europe. During this time she became more involved in that family’s business and proved herself to be an asset. Once the war was over, she continued with the work but settled more behind the scenes. Prohibition happened which only proved to make business a challenge she thrived in. Her brother died in France during the war and with the grief of losing her son and disownment of her daughter, her mother fell into a deep depression and eventually died. Her father died last year, the only reason she felt confident in returning to London after all this time.

Somehow during her retelling, their postures changed. Alfie had shifted to sit closer to her, feet still planted on the ground and a glass in his hand. Sarah laid stretched out on the couch, her legs over his lap with her head on the arm rest and a glass in her hand. Together, they were slowly working through the whiskey bottle while she spoke. His hand skimmed up and down her legs, the feeling of her stockings and skin under his hand was intoxicating.

When her story ended, he asked something that had been gnawing on him for years. “Why did your letters to me stop?”

She threw back the rest of her glass, turning to look at the large window they faced. “I did something stupid and got thrown in jail for a short time before family could get me out. The sheriff was not a fan of me.”

Something about the way she tensed and refused to look at him made him wonder what happened to her while in jail. Nothing good. The thought of this sheriff laying a hand on her made his blood boil and he wondered if the man was still alive so he could kill him himself. Slowly and painfully.

Reaching a hand over, he gripped her free hand and entwined their fingers. There was nothing he could say or do to take away the pain no matter how much he wanted to. He changed the subject, hoping to bring her out of the solemnness that she was wallowing in. “How long until you head back?”

“Two weeks? A month? Depends on if we decide to go to France and meet some connections there.”

“That s’it?”

He could not disguise the sadness nor longing in his voice. Emerald eyes turned to meet his, mirroring his emotions. Slowly she sat up, setting her glass down before placing one hand on his shoulder and another on his cheek.

“I will not leave unannounced. I can promise you that.”

“Is it selfish for me to want all your time while you’re here?”

She smirked, dragging her thumb across his lower lip. “Something particular in mind to occupy our time?”

“I’m sure I can get creative.”

“Promises, promises, Captain Solomons.”

In a heated rush, his lips claimed hers. Whatever slow building fire that burned between them suddenly turned into an inferno and Alfie swore he felt like his blood was aflame. Unexpectedly she moved to straddle him, hands tugging on the buttons on his shirt. His own hands fumbled between cupping her ass and undoing the buttons on her dress. He sipped on the sweet ambrosia that was her mouth, drowning in the taste of her tongue and the heat between her legs over his straining cock. It was heaven. It was torment. There was one thing he knew, he could not stop. Whatever self-control he had flew out the window once their lips touched. He was fully under her control and had no intentions of going anywhere else. In one last draw of strength, he pulled away to meet her lust filled eyes. They had been drinking and he did not want her to regret this come morning.

“Angel, you sure?”

Slowly, she blinked as if awakening from a fog. Then she pulled off his lap to stand before him. A piece of him died when she turned and started to walk away. Did she regret this? Had he pushed her too far? They were certainly different people and with everything she had shared tonight, perhaps this was not what she wanted.

His breath caught in this throat, hope and fear warring within him when she stopped at the bedroom door. Meeting his gaze, she reached back and undid the last few buttons on her dress. It slipped down to pool at her bare feet, leaving her standing there in a sheer shift that left nothing to the imagination. She looked like both the angel he called her and sin wrapped up in a body that begged to be worshipped and ravished until she could not move. His blonde, green-eyed siren regarded him, a smile growing on her lips as he stared.

“Coming, soldier?” Turning around she strolled into the darkness in her bedroom, the slip coming off and dropping onto the floor like a trail for him to follow.

He did not think he had ever scrambled off a couch so fast. His shirt fell onto her dress on the floor, symbolic of their owners just a few feet away.

The rest of the night was spent in a haze of lust, laughter and contentment. Neither brought up the new scars scattered along both of their bodies. Pleasure was the purpose of the night. Something they certainly succeeded at if how sore they both were come morning was any indicator.

*****

-The next day-

Alfie sat at his desk, massaging his sore hip. He had been forced to use his cane more than he cared for today but thinking of the prior night and the reason why…completely worth it.

A knocking on his door had him looking up. “Come in.”

One of his men came in, a fellow soldier from France and now a baker, when he was not needed as protection on the streets.

“John, good, good. C’mere.”

John shut the door behind him and took the indicated seat, the chair creaking slightly under the weight. John was a large man, muscular and thick with a bushy beard and watchful eyes. Although Alfie would never tell him out loud, John was one of the few he trusted most that worked for him and found him indispensable. But Alfie did not want to boost the man’s ego more than it was.

“I got a task for your lads.” Alfie rubbed his hand over his jaw and mouth for a moment before continuing, damn the consequences. “There’s someone I need your lads to keep an eye on for me. A Mrs. Sarah Bondurant. Don’t let ‘er know, yeah. Just report who she s’been meetin’ with and make sure no one harms her.”

“This the woman who came by yesterday?”

Alfie raised a single eyebrow.

John shrugged. “Ishmael been talkin’.”

“Fuckin’ hell, that ugly bastard. Yeah, yeah, it is. Think you can do it?”

“Course.”

“One last thing. See what you can find out about a Joseph Coventry.”

“The earl?” John asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, I gots me a bad feelin’ ‘bout him.”

“Yes, boss. I’ll stop by in two days. Should have somethin’ by then.”

“Good, good. Thanks, John.”

After John left, Alfie toyed with the gold star ring on his left hand, lost in thought. After hearing everything from Sarah and seeing some of her scars, it only increased his desire to protect her. She would certainly be livid with him if she knew he had men looking out for her. He both loved and hated that independent streak in her. For now though, he needed to focus on work. He had managed that morning to draw a promise to see her again tonight, and this time he planned to take her out proper…maybe go back to his place after? He smiled at the thought of her writhing beneath his sheets. Maybe they should just go straight to his house?

A loud bang sounded from outside his door drew his attention back to the present and a scowl formed on his face. No rest for the wicked.

“Oi! The fuck is goin’ on out there?!”

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fiction #peaky blinder fanfic #Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons x oc #mzwrites

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monkey-network · 4 years

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Good Stuff's Best of 2019

WARNING: Just wanted to say cheers to you for making it through another year. I send you best wishes for next year to be fruitful. Thank you, take care out there, and enjoy. (Best of 2017) (Best of 2018)

Dedicated to Russi Taylor, John Witherspoon, Rip Torn, Tartar Sauce, Caroll Spinney, Peter Matthews, and the many of KyoAni lost in the arson incident. You all did wonderful; rest in peace.

Welp, I figured the last year of this decade would be the most chaotic one by far, then again everything peak after 2012. As for now, I am counting down the best cartoons/animations/comics I’ve seen and loved this year in no particular order other than #1. Same rules apply: No sneak previews of future projects, no repeats, and this time anything goes.

Runner Ups: Superman Smashes the Klan, Marvel’s Aero, Infinity Train, Enter the Florpus, Amphibia, Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart, Helluva Boss, Meta Runner, Lego Movie 2, Forky Asks a Question

Anyways, Badda boom bang whiz, let’s do this shizz...

10. Super Mario Bros GT

Nostalgia can be quite a mystery, especially one that can come out of nowhere. Super Mario Bros Z kicked so much ass as a kid that now, it still frustrates me to this that it got a cease & desist from Nintendo, even the reboot from the same person couldn’t last long. But the gods have offered a slight miracle in the form of this new spiritual successor that has heart and soul put into every pixelated frame. There is much to celebrate with Youtube animation, where many say it’s dying due to the algorithm and all of the site’s corporate bullshit, but it’s stuff like this which helps me understand why we should celebrate. Against all odds, channels like Smasher Block willfully put their works out their for the people and continues to because on top of getting a little dough, it’s what they want to do.

9. DC SUPER HERO GIRLS (2019)

Awwwwww yeah, this is She-Ra and the Princesses of Power done right. Diverse female squad, each given a quality screen time to truly shine (Beecher especially) on their which makes the episodes where they’re all together feel earned and joyous to watch. Certainly reminds me of Friendship is Magic, which is coincidental since they were created by the same woman. I’d like to think this and MLP G4 were the answers to Faust’s cancelled project Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls where multiple personalities collide to one extraordinary superhero team of girls capable great feats that are lifted from their insecurities or drawbacks. And on top of this being a fun series to kick back to all around, it’s a comforting, somewhat aspiring thought to consider.

8. JOKER

I am somebody that rarely goes to the theaters to watch a film; you have to hook my tight just for me to even think of buying a ticket, no less plan to. But honestly, Joker was worth the hype, the ticket, and the fact that it wasn’t the incel uprising that buttfuck normies tried to make it out as. It’s lower on the list because in thought, there definitely could’ve been some tweaks to the dialogue and a couple scenes that I felt didn’t work in the long run. But really, this movie to me worked because of the escalation that leads to a cathartic climax and ending that left me in actual tears. I don’t give a shit if it “doesn’t fit”, having Frank Sinatra sing the film's credits put me in shambles. Joaquin Phoenix was phenomenal as Arthur, and this movie felt authentic in its many details. This is definitely up there with my favorite comic book films of all time. Good thing, too, Spider-Man was taking up most of that shelf.

7. TUCA & BERTIE

This series being what I can’t help but say is a spin-off to Bojack Horseman, a show I respect, was enough to pull me into watching it. But it being like Bojack where it’s tight-roping between a bouncy comedy and a grounded drama was what kept me around for more. It is a damn shame this was cancelled after one season (while 13 Reasons Why gets FOUR seasons like what the fuck), because while this did feel enough like a complete series, I was certainly interested for more because I really enjoyed it all. I have my issue with a couple choices in the show, but I am sure this series would’ve addressed them later down the line. I can see why some women would find this personally endearing, it felt like the personal stories of actual people, and it deserved better. Either way, I enjoyed this series and I recommend it just as much as Bojack.

6. PRIMAL

Genndy Tartakovsky is that kind of cartoon creator where you feel he’ll go beyond if you give him the right amount of space. He’s not a perfectionist like John “Dirty Diddler” Kricfalusi, but with things like Hotel Transylvania and Samurai Jack, he certainly has proven to have the range in animation where you know how he plays. Primal showcasing his noted skill in dialogue-less storytelling and dynamic action scenes, able to convey everything clear with its ruthless yet careful protagonist and his dinosaur friend, all on top of the most luscious backgrounds. This is a series that definitely feels like Genndy’s taken what he’s used from his previous works and putting it together for a brutal yet passionate look at the prehistoric life. He truly brought us an adult series to enjoy and to look forward to more in the coming year.

5. SPINEL

Bet you didn’t expect a character to be on this list, eh? Spinel is the best thing to come out of Steven Universe in general; makes me wish she was in a better movie. The crew certainly did their darndest to make her not only an enjoyable and connectable character through and through, but a very versatile character that the fandom could take in any which way. Call it corny, but Spinel perfectly represents SU as a whole: a lovable goof that can certainly mean business but deep down is deserved of a hug because of what she’s gone through. Wish she had a more satisfying resolution in her respective debut, but really it’s the balance between those three elements mentioned that makes Spinel almost eternally wonderful.

4. MOB PSYCHO 100 II

As someone that doesn’t like reading, I’m a firm believer that the best animations or visual medias elevate the writing to a memorable degree; the visuals hook to the point where you want to think about what you saw and how it was conveyed. Mob Psycho 100, for two seasons now, does this in spades where Studio Bones throw them bones in animating one of the most dynamic animes of the modern era, providing the writing and characters a proper chance to flex its muscles. The characters are especially what makes this and MP100 as a whole work so well, the story being about a boy learning to be more sociable as well as emotionally stronger all while helping others understand maturity and empathy. For more on this, I recommend Hiding in Public’s video(s) on Mob. But with the animation, Bones was able to provide a sense of impact and immersion to the moments that matter, not making it an overstimulating mess, and putting some respect on ONE’s webcomic art style.

3. KLAUS

Hands down, this is a great Christmas movie. Take away the animation and you have a charming, wanna say ground and authentic, story about the makings of Santa Claus. With memorable and likable characters, a nice escalation in terms of the plot, and moments that are/can be so satisfying, they can bring you to tears. A couple overdone tropes in the road that doesn’t make this the most perfected story, but those sincerely minor compared to everything else that makes this story the best. Now. Add in the animation, and you have a gold, nay a platinum animated story of the year where the visuals definitely enhance the story to a degree where they’re undoubtedly inseparable. The visuals alone is enough to check this movie out and it’s eye-opening when you learn of how it’s all done. Klaus is a film that did it’s job and then some, and I hope this will be well remembered as a classic holiday film for it deserves that status.

2. BEASTARS

I’ll be fair, I’m mostly referring to the manga and not the anime but since the anime premiered this fall, it counts. Because be it the anime or the series overall, Beastars has such well intricate world building all while offering a little something for everyone (violence, romance, slice of life). The story is well paced and even when we aren’t focusing on the main characters momentarily, Itagaki is surprisingly able to make every supporting/side character we come across memorable in their own way; like I said before, the city is much a character in this story. Oh yeah, and the mangaka is the daughter of Keisuke “Grappler Baki” Itagaki, that in itself is a treasuring bit of trivia for this. Everything about Beastars is enticing and Studio Orange certainly helped in giving this series more of a following.

1. GREEN EGGS & HAM

Well, well, well. Guess Netflix is three for three in terms of bringing its best foot forward among its few steps back each year. The best term to describe this series is surprising. Surprising that this is a Dr. Seuss story that got expanded a 13 episode series, that has fleshed out characters, fun hijinks, an easy story, lovely emotional, more quieter moments... on top of being 2D hand drawn animated. I mean, what else is there to say? Green Eggs and Ham is to Dr. Seuss what Seven was for Final Fantasy, what Friendship is Magic was for MLP, what watermelon was before a nice menthol cigarette. This definitely took the top spot because to me, it was able to bring many good elements from the previous entries and knot it all together into a well kept bow that I never knew I wanted until now. I’m genuinely glad this show got to exist the way it is and I am hoping, praying, that the second season keeps that momentum up.

That leads us to the actual number one which is

1. STEVEN UNIVERSE FUT-

Total Dramarama is now the two time World Heavyweight Champion, babey. Will 2020 give us a quality contender? Will the streak last another year?

Stay tuned, and always seek out the Good Stuff.

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5hining-aus · 5 years

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Midnight Musings (Taemin Arranged Marriage AU)

Here we are, the final Arranged Marriage AU. Which one was your favourite? I think mine would have to be Strawberry Kisses. Also, just because this is the final Arranged Marriage AU doesn’t mean I’m never going to expand on the stories, so if you have any questions/ideas/comments for the Arranged Marriage AUs (or any AU of mine really) feel free to send them my way, I love hearing what you guys think.

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The room was dark and quiet, with the only light coming from the pale moon outside, and the only sound being Taemin’s snoring. You turned over in bed to face your new husband, who was out cold.

As far as arranged marriages went, you counted yourself lucky. You and Taemin had met back when you were children and honestly, you couldn’t remember a time where it wasn’t taken for granted that you two would eventually be married.

Some people would constantly ask you if it was difficult, growing up knowing that dating anyone other than Taem would be useless in the long run. You could see where they were coming from but, truthfully, dating somebody else had never really crossed your mind, and you were glad that you had had over two decades to get accustomed to Taemin, some of your friends and acquaintances that were in similar situations had barely had a few months.

A particularly loud snore from Taemin caused an eruption of quiet giggles to come from your mouth. “Oh Y/N, I don’t snore, I’ve never snored in my life.” Bullshit Taemin, I’ve known you for 23 years and you’ve snored like a tractor for all 23 of them. You didn’t mind the snoring though, it was another thing that you had gotten used to.

What other quirks have I gotten used to? You wondered. Hmm, there's his snoring, him losing anything he touches, breaking whatever he doesn’t lose, there’s that thing he has with Jinki’s thighs...not that I can blame him, Jinki’s partner is a lucky person. Oh, that reminds me, I wonder how that shopping trip went? You were momentarily distracted, making a mental note to ask Jinki’s partner about the aforementioned shopping trip.

Where was I? Crap, I lost my train of thought! Aggh, what was it? Oh yeah, Taemin’s quirks.

A few more of your husband’s habits came to mind, but one that you wound up focusing on was how he really did always try to make the best out of any situation. Take your recent wedding day for example, the two of you had planned an outdoor wedding in a gorgeous field. For the whole month leading up to your nuptials, the weather reports said that it’d be sunny and warm, and the days preceding your wedding did nothing but cement your belief in that. But, surprise surprise, it downpoured on the day of the wedding. There was a small canopy tent set up for the actual ceremony and for the food, but you and Taem had planned to have your first dance out on the grass which, by the time you two were ready to dance, was almost flooded.

As silly as it may sound now, you thought that your fairytale moment would be ruined, so you were very surprised when you looked over at Taemin and saw him taking off his shoes and rolling up his pant legs.

What the hell is he thinking, you remember yourself wondering. Your question was answered quickly enough, though, when Taemin held out his hand with a grin.

“Shall we dance, Y/N?”

You honestly thought that he had lost his mind for a second. It was pouring rain and the wind was so strong that you were worried that the wedding tent would be blown away, yet Taemin was asking you to dance in it. You must have lost your mind too because, without even thinking, you took his hand.

You were once again jolted out of your thoughts, this time by your husband rolling over in his sleep and wrapping his arms around you, pulling the two of you closer together.

“Y/N, I know you’re still awake, go to sleep,” Taemin mumbled sleepily, bringing your face to his chest.

You found it strange how normal this felt to you. It was as if this impromptu cuddling had been a nightly occurrence for years.

This is nice. Kind of...soothing, in a way. Wow, how long have my eyelids been this heavy? Maybe I��ll just...rest them...for ...a bit…

And just like that, you were on your way to Dreamland, with the sound of Taemin’s steady heartbeat lulling you into a deep sleep.

#SHINee AU #SHINee imagines #SHINee #SHINee scenarios #SHINee x reader #taemin x reader #taemin #Arranged Marriage AU #Midnight Musings AU

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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imnotdoneyet-forreal · 5 years

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Deals with the Devil- 3

Author: Amanda Preston

Summary: A need to fill a void and an encounter to start something new, Elijah and Katya never knew that a simple one night stand would wind up into a love affair filled with family drama and side deals gone wrong.

Deals with the Devil Masterlist

Introductions were overlooked as Caroline, who had been dealing with Katya and Marcel for weeks now, wanted to seal this deal as soon as possible. Katya wished for this as well but she sensed that her luck for the day had run out as Elijah continued to watch her while Caroline tried to explain to him the major terms of the contract and filling him in about past negotiations.

Marcel didn’t miss this detail either and kept trying to catch Katya’s attention throughout the meeting. Katya tried to ignore them both and focused on Caroline but it grew harder as Ms. Forbes concluded her presentation and turned to her boss.

“All we need is Ms. Fontaine’s signature,” Caroline tells him. “And MoonStone Publishing will be owned by Viking Co.”

Caroline slides the contract over to him and Elijah takes it over. He glances at it momentarily before setting it down and clearing his throat. His eyes settle on her once more and Katya is now forced to face the consequences of her actions. Katya looked at the brown eyes of the sad man yesterday.

He no longer looked upset. In fact, he looked amused and Katya feared that her sudden leave from this morning might be fueling some sort of vendetta. The way he treated her last night was gentle and she feared that he no longer held that kind of regard anymore.

“How are you doing this fine day, Ms. Fontaine?”

“I’m doing well, Mr. Mikaelson,” she answers. “How about you?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” he responds. “From what I have heard, MoonStone Publishing was created, started, and run by you. Is this correct?”

“I had many friends and coworkers who helped MoonStone to become what it is today,” Katya answers. “It was a group effort.”

“But you were the main Publisher correct?” Elijah asks her again. “You are the owner?”

“Yes, I am or was...” Katya answers. “I had an idea and I shared it with people I knew would follow me through with it. Slowly but surely we built up MoonStone to what it is today.”

“And the reason for this sell?”

“I believe that’s a little too personal for Katya to answer,” Marcel intervenes.

“It’s fine, Marcel,” Katya answers as she cleared her throat. “To answer your question Mr. Mikaelson, running a publishing house in this day and age is one filled with struggle. Due to online e-readers and tablets being the primary use of reading leisure it’s been hard to get people to buy books. My team and I tried very hard to keep ourselves afloat. Funding was an issue we faced many times and projects were put on hold as we tried to fix this problem. To no avail, we failed hence the need to sell MoonStone.”

“And these projects that you had planned?” Elijah asks as he starts to take note of what Katya was explaining to him.

“I’m sure my employees, if you wish to keep them that is, will be more than happy to fill you in about those,” Katya responds.

Elijah can’t help the smile on his face as he looks up to her. He leans back into his chair and Katya wonders what he could possibly be thinking about now.

“And what if I decide to keep you on board?” Elijah asks her.

Katya didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t know if he was playing with her emotions seeing as a few hours ago she had revealed them to him.

“I uh…” Katya glances over at Marcel who also seems apprehensive at the matter of the question. “I was under the impression you were going to liquidate MoonStone and remake it as your own.”

“I’m aware of MoonStone’s history and it seems like you did everything you could to keep your business alive. The only problem was funding which Viking Co. can offer to you. It will allow you to expand to new horizons and work on those projects you were unable to do before.”

Katya glances over to Marcel who is now sitting up in his seat.

“I’m sorry, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Katya asks him.

Elijah offers her a smile and nods.

“I would like to keep MoonStone intact with everything and everyone,” Elijah tells her. “I can see that you’re a hard-worker and deeply involved in MoonStone’s best interest. I have no experience in running a publishing house and I would like to keep you on board to help with the transition. In other words, MoonStone is going to be under the umbrella of Viking Co. and whatever you may need from us you will only have to ask.”

Katya was left speechless as Elijah turned the contract away from him and slid it towards her.

“All you have to do is sign.”

Katya glanced down at the contract in front of her and looks towards Marcel and Caroline to see if this was actually happening. Taking in the surprised look on both their faces, Katya realizes that it has and it has taken everyone off guard too.

Not wanting this opportunity to slip away from her, Katya picks up her pen and signs and initials on all of the needed pages. She then closes the portfolio and slides the contract back to Elijah who offers her a smile.

“I’ll have my assistant arrange for a copy of this contract to be sent to you,” Elijah states as he rises from his chair concluding the meeting once and for all.

“That’s it?” Katya asks as she stood up not as gracefully as he did.

“Yes, that’s it,” Elijah answers. “I’ll have someone drop by with an official employment contract and the payment.”

Katya glances over at Marcel still trying to process what was going on.

“He’s still paying me?” she whispers to him only receiving a half-shrug in response.

Elijah overhears her comment and tries to suppress the smile on his lips. He fails and catches Katya’s eyes in the end.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, Ms. Fontaine,” Elijah states before he hands off the contract to Caroline and starts to walk out of the room.

Katya stands in shock as she watches him leave. Before she knows it, Katya packs up her things and starts to chase after him.

“Mr. Mikaelson,” she calls out to him.

Katya ignores Marcel calling her name and the way Caroline looked concerned between the two.

“Yes, Ms. Fontaine?” he answers in response.

Katya glances warily at the audience around them and Elijah takes notice of her discomfort.

“Ms. Forbes, we can talk about your concerns in my office,” Elijah tells her. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Having no other choice, Caroline nods at his order and starts to make her way towards the elevator. Katya looks back at Marcel and nods for him to wait for her in the lobby. With both of their peers gone, Katya looks up at Elijah who is watching her closely.

“I was hoping to have a moment of your time to discuss the issue of possible conflicts of interest,” Katya tells him. “Due to unprofessional behavior and perhaps the unintentional…”

Katya is at a loss of words unable to describe their strange situation. Elijah just seems amused by the thing altogether which kind of ticked Katya off.

“Perhaps we can discuss this further over drinks,” Elijah offers. “Tonight at Rousseau’s?”

Katya laughs dryly at this but panic soon settles in her bones.

“No, I have plans tonight,” Katya answers.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Katya is prompted to explain. “Office party that was meant to be a final farewell until… this all happened.”

“Hmm,” Elijah hums. “Well enjoy yourself tonight. I’ll have my assistant schedule you in for a meeting.”

“Yes, thank you,” Katya answers with relief.

Elijah offers her one last smile, “Allow me to walk you to the elevator.”

“Oh, you don’t really have to Mr. Mikaelson,” Katya responds as she started to make the short journey there.

“Please, call me Elijah.”

Katya lets out a sigh as she glances over at him.

“I’ll rather keep my relationship with you professional from here on out, Mr. Mikaelson,” Katya informs him.

“Understandable,” Elijah comments as they reach the elevator doors. “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you more often from here on out, Ms. Fontaine.”

The elevator quickly opens for her and Katya looks up at Elijah for one last time. She offers him a smile, a genuine one, as she steps inside. Before the doors could close, Katya reaches out her hand and lets out a sigh.

“Thank you,” she tells him catching him by surprise. “Thank you for letting me keep MoonStone.”

Katya steps back inside the elevator and presses the button for the lobby. Elijah offers her a gentle smile and Katya can’t help but recall the man she met at the bar. At that moment, she had seen him peer through.

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x oc #elijah mikaelson x you #elijah mikaelson fic #elijah mikaelson #mikaelson #the vampire diaries au #the originals au #modern age #fluff #angst #deals with the devil #part 3 #deals with the devil part 3 #deals with the devil masterlist

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prepare4trouble · 5 years

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Star Wars Rebels fanfic - Together (an AU of an AU) Part 9/9

Finished it!

This chapter should have been up literally weeks ago, but stuff kept coming up and I kept wanting to make little tweaks and... well, you know how it goes. I got there in the end though.

In the early days, after Malachor, it had surprised Ezra how little the loss of his sight had affected Kanan’s ability with a lightsaber. While he had struggled at first to find his way around an unfamiliar room, or perform normal, everyday tasks, the moment he activated his blade, all hesitancy disappeared. Whether he was performing katas and practicing alone or sparring with Ezra, Ezra could see almost no difference in his master’s skill level.

It was as though he could somehow see by the light of the blade.

Kanan had laughed when Ezra had said that. Not a real laugh, more like a smile and a quick exhalation of air through his nose, but it was obvious that the comment had amused him, and Ezra had wondered why.

Kanan had shaken his head and deactivated his blade. “Something I said once,” he had explained. “When I was a youngling, at the Temple. I asked what was the point in learning to use a lightsaber blindfolded because nowhere was so dark the blade wouldn’t give you enough light to see by. It turned out I was wrong.”

Ezra had winced at the explanation. It wasn’t funny, and he didn’t know how Kanan could have laughed about it. Overcome by the urge to see, he had deactivated his own lightsaber and pulled off the blindfold that he had been using during the sparring match.

“We used to train with our vision obscured all the time as younglings,” Kanan had continued. “But it wasn’t about learning how to fight blind, that was just a byproduct; it was to teach us to trust in the Force. It’s more reliable than your other senses; your eyes can deceive you.”

Ezra had known that. Kanan had told him before, back when they both had perfect vision and no idea that anything was going to change, but this was the first time Ezra had heard it in some time. He repeated the words in his mind, holding onto them, trying to find comfort in them. But that wasn’t why Kanan had said it. He wasn’t trying to reassure him, it was simply a statement of fact.

He had known, too, that Kanan had done that kind of training. He had made no secret of the fact that he had called upon the lessons he had been taught at the Temple for inspiration when he began to teach Ezra. What he hadn’t realized until now, was the extent of Kanan’s training. Blindfolded, once he had gotten over the problem of balance without his sight to ground him, Ezra had no problem going through the motions of the basic stances and katas that Kanan had taught him, and he wasn’t bad at deflecting objects thrown in his direction, but ask him to face an opponent, even in a friendly sparring match, and he was completely and totally out of his depth.

But Kanan, newly blinded, had faced Maul and escaped with his life.

Looking uncomfortable, Kanan had clipped his lightsaber to his belt before folding his arms and turning away from Ezra so that his face was hidden. “I… hated it,” he had added. “Not being able to see, I mean. It made me feel vulnerable. I think that’s why I didn’t use that method more often with you. I should have.”

That part was new; something Kanan had never told him before. Honestly, Ezra had never enjoyed it much either. He had hesitated then, caught between saying something to try to reassure Kanan, and steering the topic of conversation as far away from the current one as he could. If they had known what was going to happen, they would probably both have done a lot of things differently. There was nothing they could do about it now. Nothing except make up for lost time.

Training as a whole meant something different now than it had done before. It wasn’t only about lightsaber practice, or using the Force. They were still a part of it, but there was so much more now too.

Training meant slowly but surely learning how to find their way around the base; a place that in its current state, Kanan had never seen and Ezra was still getting used to. It meant expanding on the Force techniques that they had already developed to allow them to sense the world around them, improving them, using them over and over until it became second nature. It meant hours and hours spent practicing with the tactile alphabet that Sabine had brought to them, learning how to recognize each letter by touch, and then how to read whole words and sentences.

Much to Ezra’s frustration, training now also meant a lot more meditation than it had before, concentrating on strengthening their connections to the Force.

There was more to it than that, though. So much of what they were learning how to do didn’t involve the Force at all. That shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Ezra, who as a child had observed the methods that his aunt had used to compensate for her blindness, but for some reason it had. For a time, he had been fooling himself into believing that eventually, with enough practice, the Force would be able to compensate for everything.

He was now realizing that wasn’t the case.

Training now also meant Kanan talking through problems that he had encountered, mundane tasks that neither of them had even considered before, that had suddenly become difficult or impossible, and the two of them working together to find a solution.

“You know,” Ezra said one evening as they printed out tactile labels for items in the kitchen cabinets. “I’m pretty sure figuring out how to shave without looking would be one of the least difficult things we’ve done recently.”

Kanan raised a hand and ran his fingertips through the beard that covered his lower face. He smiled and shook his head. “That’s one of the reasons I stopped shaving at first, but it’s grown on me now.”

“Yeah,” Ezra said. “That’s kinda my point.”

Kanan sighed pointedly. “I meant I like it now.”

“That’s only because you don’t have to look at it,” Ezra told him. “I do.”

“Not for much longer,” Kanan retorted, then froze in apparent horror.

Ezra blinked, caught off-guard and momentarily unsure how to react. Ezra had been making comments like that for months, and getting away with it. Jokes and comments sometimes at his own expense, sometimes at Kanan’s, sometimes at both of them. It had become almost a reflex. This was the first time he had heard it from somebody else.

It felt weird.

He did the only thing he could, under the circumstances. He laughed. “Point,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Kanan told him. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Hey, you’re not wrong,” Ezra said.

Kanan was still frowning. Ezra got it, he had said things that he regretted before now. It was refreshing, in a way, to hear somebody else do it instead.

“I know,” Kanan said, “but…”

“Seriously, don’t apologize. It’s about time someone else tried to make a joke around here. Sometimes I feel like I’m doing all the work. And talking of work, how’s that label coming?”

Kanan relaxed just slightly and got on with printing the next label.

As Ezra watched, he felt a smile spread across his face. What Kanan had said hadn’t been a joke, not a deliberate one anyway, but it had actually made him laugh, if only because it had taken him by surprise. As jokes went, he had heard worse. He had made worse.

“The first time I said something like that was an accident too,” he said. Kanan knew that of course; he had been there. The second time had been an accident too, and the third. “But then I decided to stop worrying about it. I figured if I could make people laugh, maybe it’d make the whole thing start to feel more normal.”

“Did it work?”

“Nope.”

Kanan nodded like he had expected that answer.

“But at least I’m not beating myself up every time I make a joke anymore,” Ezra added. “Anyway, it still might work, especially if you’re going to do it too now.”

Kanan shook his head. “I’m not…” he began.

“Next time, say something in front of Hera,” Ezra suggested.

Hera in particular never seemed to relax. She was constantly on edge around both Kanan and Ezra in a way that Sabine and Zeb weren’t anymore. She watched Kanan, and sometimes Ezra too, like she was on the verge of helping, ready to spring into action if they needed anything. If Kanan noticed, he didn’t mention it, but to Ezra it felt stifling. Nobody was comfortable with the situation yet, Ezra least of all, but he could sense Hera’s discomfort and that made his own worse. He hadn’t dared to make a joke around her yet, because he didn’t know how she would react.

Without even taking a moment to consider it, Kanan shook his head. “I’m not that crazy,” he told him.

So he had noticed. Ezra shrugged. “I just figured that coming from you, it might be easier for her to handle. She might even laugh. Or at least pretend to.”

If not, at least she would be mad at Kanan and not Ezra. He imagined she would forgive him more easily.

“Maybe Rex,” Kanan mused.

He was right, Rex would be better. He was the only person who had never walked on eggshells around them. He laughed when Ezra made a bad joke and he wasn’t even faking it. “Nah, too easy,” Ezra told him. “Is the label ready?”

Kanan finished the last letter and handed over the finished label. Ezra squinted at it in an attempt to see what was printed there. It was pointless; he already knew that his eyes were no longer capable of making out the tiny colorless bumps that made up the tactile alphabet. He still tried anyway, every time.

He gave up on reading the label visually, and ran the tip of his index finger slowly over the text, taking his time, checking each letter carefully. He frowned. “Uh, Kanan? Doesn’t this one say ‘sugar’?”

“Stop asking me what they say,” Kanan told him. “Start trusting yourself. You know what it says; you just read it.”

“Yeah, and it’s a good thing I did. I asked for one that said ‘jogan tea’.”

Kanan shrugged, apparently unbothered by his mistake. “We need to label the sugar too, don’t we?”

Not anymore, apparently. “Sure, but…” he began.

“I’m making sure you read them,” Kanan told him. “I don’t want you to stick the labels on upside down.” He paused. “Again.”

It had been one time, and he had noticed immediately. Ezra sighed pointedly. “Sure, I’ll just assume I read them right,” he said. “Just don’t blame me the next time you try to make caf and end up with a cup of watery gravy or something instead.”

Kanan laughed. “You wouldn’t do that,” he said.

“Not deliberately, no, but if you keep giving me the wrong labels on purpose…”

Of course, he wasn’t going to do it deliberately. Not only because it would be cruel and pointless, but also because it wouldn’t be long before Ezra needed to use the tactile labels too. He squinted at the sugar jar. Not long at all, judging by how difficult it was getting to make out the aurebesh printed on some of the containers they were labeling today.

That was a frightening thought. He glared at the text on the sugar jar as though it was somehow at fault, then gave in to the slightly vindictive urge to carefully stick the label over the text so that nobody else could read it either. It was a distinctive-looking enough container that he doubted anybody actually needed to read it, but it still made him feel better.

He didn’t mention to Kanan what he had done. Somehow, he doubted that he would approve.

“So, can I have the jogan tea label now?”

Kanan printed and handed over another label, far too short to be what Ezra had asked for. Ezra read the word ‘caf’, rolled his eyes, then stuck it on the correct jar without comment. Kanan waited, obviously expecting Ezra to say something. When he didn’t, Kanan printed another label, longer this time, and handed it over. Ezra checked it, stuck it on the tea, put the box away, and closed the cabinet door.

“That’s everything,” he said. Well, it was everything in that cabinet anyway, and that was all they had planned to do for now. There was still much more to label around the ship, and around the base, but that was a task for another day. “So, wanna do something else?” he asked.

“What did you have in mind?” Kanan’s lips quirked into a smile. “Meditation?”

Ezra made a face. Let Kanan get away with one joke at his expense and he was going to have to put up with them for the rest of his life. “I was thinking of something a bit less boring,” he said. “Did you know the mechanics have set up a racing track for the dokma?”

“Yeah. Rex mentioned it.” Kanan shook his head. “I hear they color-code the dokma so people can tell them apart.”

“Yeah, and we bet for rations and equipment and stuff. Someone even bet a helmet a couple of days ago, but I didn’t win it.”

Kanan nodded. “But I hear they color-code the dokma,” he repeated, a little more slowly. “And then people watch them race down the track.”

“‘Race’ might be a bit too strong a word, they more like… Oh.” He stopped, finally understanding what Kanan was trying to tell him.

“You go ahead,” Kanan told him. “I have plans with Hera tonight anyway.”

He was such an idiot. Of course Kanan wouldn’t be able to watch the race. He had known that. It had just taken him a little longer than it should to realize that a night of standing around not watching five creatures meander around a racing track might not be entertaining for him.

Or, soon, for Ezra.

He slumped against the wall, suddenly feeling very tired. Every day he found something else that he couldn’t do anymore, or thought of something that was going to get harder, or something that he was going to miss. He hated it. He hated everything about it.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel like going to the races anymore.

But he liked the races. He didn’t want to have to give them up. He didn’t want to spend the time he had left to enjoy them wondering how long it would be before he could no longer follow what was happening on the track. Plus, he had a pocket full of ration bars that he had been hoping to turn into a meiloorun for Hera’s birthday.

“Ezra, it’s fine,” Kanan told him. “Go.”

But it wasn’t fine. It already wasn’t fine. “I mixed up two of the colors the other night,” he admitted.

He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time; he had put it down to not paying attention, then forgotten about it when he got swept up in the euphoria of having won the race when he thought he had lost. But that had been the start of it. That had probably been the first of many times that it would happen before he finally gave up and started to rely on others to tell him who had won. It was only going to get worse.

Kanan sighed deeply. He folded his arms and appeared to hesitate before he replied, like he was trying to think of the right thing to say. “Okay,” he said. “So what can you do about that? What would make it easier to tell them apart?”

Nothing. There was nothing he could do. It was only going to get worse.

“Are the colors too similar? Could they be changed? Or, what are the lights like out there? Maybe you could ask the engineers to make them a little brighter.”

Kanan was trying to do for Ezra what they did for Kanan when he ran into a problem; try to find a solution that would solve it. Ezra considered the suggestions. The colors were fine, it was his eyes that were at fault. He would probably have as much difficulty with two other colors as he had with blue and green. The lighting though; it was lit, but it wasn’t great. It could be better. “Maybe,” he said. It would be a temporary fix, but it would work for a time.

But that would only help him, not Kanan.

And after a while, it wouldn’t help him anymore either.

He forced a smile. “Mixing them up worked in my favor though,” he added. “Kinda. I thought I’d lost, then they announced blue was the winner, not green.”

“Great,” Kanan told him. “Leave everything how it is, maybe it’ll happen again.”

Ezra sighed. It would happen again. Asking for better lighting wouldn’t stop that, it would only delay it.

“They always announce which color won, though,” he added. “So maybe the answer is not to look, or not to trust what I see. Just wait for the announcement.”

Kanan frowned and Ezra thought he felt a flicker of sadness through the Force, but he nodded. “It’s certainly going to work better in the long-run,” he agreed.

Not to mention, it didn’t mean asking for any special treatment; he didn’t like doing that.

The races weren’t really races anyway. A race usually involved more than one person or thing trying to get from the start to the finish. The dokma didn’t do that. They didn’t try to get anywhere. They didn’t even know they were supposed to be in a race, so instead of trying to reach the finish line, they meandered in random directions, crossing from one lane to another, or turning around and going the wrong way. Sometimes they stopped completely and went to sleep.

Most people didn’t really watch the race. They were just there to hang out, place bets, and have a drink. The fact that a race was happening nearby didn’t even really matter most of the time.

“It might not be so bad,” he said. “Not being able to see the race, I mean.”

He didn’t need to see to choose a dokma either. It wasn’t possible to tell by looking at them which one would be most likely to wander in the right direction; it was pure luck.

There were things that he would miss, like the end part of the race when people began to notice one of the dokma approaching the finish line. Awareness would spread through the crowd like a ripple, gathering momentum as people realized those around them had shifted their attention to the track, and they too started to watch intently, or shout encouragement. He wouldn’t be a part of that. Not really.  Mostly the shouting didn’t make any difference; the dokma didn’t notice. Apart from one particularly hilarious night when someone screaming loudly at a creature inches from the finish line scared it with his volume and it retreated inside its shell for long enough for another dokma to wander over the line.

It wouldn’t be the same not to see things like that happen, to have to hear about them second hand from someone else. But it would eventually be unavoidable. He would have to get used to it, or stop going, and he didn’t want to stop going.

“It should be fine,” he said, not completely sure whether he was speaking to Kanan or to himself.

He pushed aside a slight flutter of nerves at the thought of what he was about to do. It would be fine. It would be a little frustrating not to be able to see what was happening on the track, but he would get used to that. Being around large crowds with his eyes covered was disorienting, but he had done it before, and it was something else that he was going to have to get used to.

Honestly, the worst part was probably going to be trying to explain to Hobbie and Wedge why he had decided to show up wearing a blindfold.

He reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out the strip of fabric he kept on him for training. He could test it out, see how it went, then he and Kanan could think of a work-around for any unanticipated problems, then try it again.

He tied the blindfold around his face, covering his eyes, then adjusted it until it was as comfortable as he could make it. He took a deep breath to calm himself, marveling at the fact that the rising panic was gone. A few months ago, he couldn’t have done this. He couldn’t even have contemplated it.

It was going to be different when he had no choice, when he wasn’t wearing it and he still couldn't see. In some ways, the blindfold was comforting, its presence a reminder that when he took it off, he would find the world exactly where he had left it.

Through the Force, he could feel Kanan’s surprise as he realized what Ezra was doing.

“You don’t have to do that now,” he said.

But he did have to. If not now — if not before he needed it — then after, when he did. And it was going to be so much worse then.

“I know,” he said. “I’ll let you know how it went tomorrow.”

He headed for the door, and out into the base, leaving Kanan behind him.

#star wars rebels #swr fanfic #ezra bridger #kanan jarrus #little by little #auau

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redsdesktop · 6 years

Text

DBH: Deviant Dynamics

Chapter 9

Warnings: Violence, guns, and death. And torture. Cover your eyes children.

The speed they were going wasn't exactly legal, far from it. Connor's fingers tightened into Conrad's jacket. Without being the one controlling the motorcycle, he was leaving his fate into the other android's hands. While he felt completely open to danger, riding without the safety of a car around him, his mind calculated all the possible ways they could crash. Which likely wasn't helping his stress levels. However, that fear sent a rush of adrenaline through him, making him feel something completely unexpected. Excitement. The thrill of no longer being in control while hurtling through so many dangerous situations, to have to accept whatever fate happened to him.

The world blurred past him, with Conrad's body blocking the view in front of him, his simulation program couldn't properly run, leaving him virtually blind. However, Conrad was supposedly an upgraded model, the best of their kind at the present moment as he weaved through traffic with little to no effort. Car horns blared but faded all too quickly as humans and androids were startled by the higher pitched hum of the sports motorcycle as it sped past them. While they were part of the police department, Conrad should've taken at least some sort of consideration to the citizens around them. Connor had no chance to apologize to them anyways as the wind whipped his jacket around behind him, making him realize he should've buttoned it up first.

The address of the hostage situation was getting closer, one of the police operators had transferred them the address and Conrad had already calculated the quickest possibly route, not exactly the safest though. Connor tightened his arms around Conrad, no longer caring about the fact he was practically smashed up against the other android's back, enough that he could feel Conrad's warmth through their clothes. He should've went with Hank to grab some food, but he had the curse of concern for those around him. That care had been the reason he'd deviated and betrayed Amanda, but had also given him friends and people who saw him more than just a means to an end.

The bike slowed as red and blue lights reached his vision, Conrad easily weaving through the parked police vehicles so they could be closer to the front of the house. Once the bike came to a stop, Conrad leaned so he could keep the bike up with one foot planted on the ground. Connor took it as his cue to dismount and remove his helmet, setting it on the seat. Raking his hands through his hair to get it back to its proper style, professional but with a stray strand curling on his forehead to give him a more relaxed look. Conrad had a similar style but such a misplaced strand only made him look more dangerous, how Cyberlife mastered the art of appearances was impressive.

Connor examined the front of the house, expanding his reconstructing software to see if he could find anything amiss that might help him before he entered the fray. Police had the residential home surrounded, there would be no escaping for this android. He scanned through the information he received from the department. The house had been recently abandoned by humans fleeing the revolution and had been legally purchased by an android couple, there were no records of any problems from either of them, at least not enough to warrant police involvement.Connor took the lead as this field was his specialty as he examined the yard. The grass was meticulously groomed, even the flowers were perfectly arranged to be appealing to the eye.

As he stepped up onto the porch, he could hear the noise inside, the crying of a woman and the angry shouting of a man. Connor glanced over to see Hank standing by the door, waiting for him more than likely. "Lieutenant." He addressed professionally since they were on the job, Hank didn't bother insisting as he looked annoyed, which meant he was troubled. Those blue eyes slide past him to catch sight of Conrad who had moved behind Connor, like a silent shadow who's presence took up an entire room. Hank let out an agitated growl but let it slide for now, they had bigger problems at the moment.

"The asshole in there has a gun, seems like he found out his girl was cheating on him with the gardener." Hank informed them of the situation as of now, making Connor frown just slightly. Androids were still a bit unpredictable as some were still sorting through their deviancy and programming, feeling emotions for the first time could be taxing. Humans had years to develop their emotions, how to control them, but androids were still new at it and with their intelligence and strength, it was a dangerous combination.

"Where's the gardener?" Connor questioned as he stared at the door, it probably wouldn't be wise to have the gardener around in such a tense situation. If the gardener ended up hearing about what was going on, they might rush to the scene and accidentally make things worse.

"We tried getting in contact with her, but she didn't answer. The other officers have been given a picture of her, in case she decides to show up on the scene." Hank ran his hand over his gray beard, he'd cleaned up a little due to Connor's insistence, but he still managed to keep that bitter look about him. Connor didn't mind, as long as he didn't look like he'd just stumbled onto the scene straight out from a bar. While Connor couldn't completely stop the older alpha from drinking, the man had cut back considerably. Despite all those protest, Hank took Connor's pestering seriously to some degree.

After scanning through all the information he gathered, Connor stepped up to the door and knocked loudly but still holding some politeness to it, simply wanting to gain the other android's attention. "Hello, Tyler?" He called out the android's name, one that was newly acquired after androids gained their freedom, to gain a certain identity despite looking similar to a mass of other androids. "My name is Connor, I'm the negotiator and I was wondering if it would be okay if I came in to talk. Alone and unarmed." He would give the android an option, to judge how much the other would be able to cooperate.

Though when he said that, he felt a familiar presence prickle along his spine, causing him to look over his shoulder to see Conrad had moved even closer. He could already sense the disapproval from the newer model, but this wasn't the time to argue. "Yes, I'm going, this is what I'm designed for and before you even ask, no, you may not come. No offense, but I'm certain you'd get shot on sight." Connor whispered out before turning and pressing a hand on Conrad's chest to push the overbearing alpha away. After a moment, he gave in and took a step back, though his stoic and cold features seemed closed off. Reaffirming Connor's belief that he'd get shot on sight with just how threatening he looked.

The struggling inside momentarily ceased as if the android was thinking about his choices, a regular android model didn't have the same processing speed as an RK unit, but they were still quicker than a human's. "Fine! But come in with your hands where I can see them!" A shout finally broke the silence, giving Connor permission for what he needed. Grabbing the door handle, he slowly eased the door open, not wanting to startle the man with the gun as he eased himself in. Raising his hands up to show he was unarmed and wouldn't reach for a weapon, he used his foot to close the door behind him, briefly able to hear a growl from both Hank and Conrad.

Connor needed to gain the android's trust and leaving the door open so he could see all the police outside would only raise the stress levels. Connor activated his reconstruction program, time going still as he analyzed the room. There had been a huge struggle between the two, furniture was knocked over, thirium was spilled all over the floor from both parties. The male had caught the woman by surprise when she came home, having came at her with a gun. Shooting her in the shoulder, missing anything vital by a few inches, allowing the woman to attack in attempts to save her life. From the bullet holes in the wall, Connor judged that there was only one bullet left and the android currently holding the gun likely didn't know about that fact.

It was still a threat as he had the gun pointed at him, the female android was on the ground, her legs at odd angles, preventing her from escaping. Seeing how there was furniture knocked over in the path directly to the gunman, Connor knew his success in charging the man without being shot was low, too low to risk.It would take a painful amount of time to slowly navigate around the fallen furniture while keeping the other android distracted. He'd been in trickier situations though, not that he wanted to remember. Doing so would only serve to distract him, judging how much the night in that family's home still haunted him when he went into standby mode.

"Tyler, I'm unarmed and alone as promised, okay." He reassured but still kept his hands up, just in case. "I know its a very stressful situation to be in, but it'll be okay. What she did to you was wrong, but violence won't make you feel better." He moved closer, his movements slow and fluid as he stepped around a fallen barstool. "If you put down the gun, you can move on, find a better life.There are others who can help you, who've been through the exact same thing as you." Connor continued to talk, to keep the man distracted.

"She broke my heart!" The man cried out, shaking the gun a bit at Connor, making him freeze in his tracks. He had to calm the man down, but it seemed maybe he was a bit more unstable than Connor first assumed. "Now its her turn to suffer, to pay for what she did to me!" Connor's alarms went off inside his head, the stress levels had skyrocketed from just those few words. Upon seeing the gun begin to move, Connor had to stop the man before he shot the female on the ground. It was his job to protect the innocent, he jumped over a fallen side table, rushing the other android head on. At the last moment, Tyler noticed Connor running towards him and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang out and a sudden force caused Connor to stumble back, his feet getting tangled in the legs of a chair. The world tilted and he crashed into the floor, errors and warning flared to life right before his vision. From his internal scan, he'd been shot just to the left of his thirium pump, making Connor feel like the luckiest android around with how many near death experiences he's been through. He'd have to apologize to Hank if he survived through this, depending on how quickly he was helped to stop the flow of thirium blossoming out over his white button up shirt.There were muffled sounds of a struggle but Connor couldn't really see much as he stared up at the ceiling.

There had only been one bullet left, so Connor figured it was safe for the police to break in now. After a shot being fired, they likely would enter since the situation had escalated. Once again his world tipped as strong arms pulled him into a sit, his body leaning against a warm and humanly soft body. "Hank?" His voice sounded slightly distorted, a mix between machine and human, unable to steady his voice output when his processes were overwhelmed with errors.

"I've got ya', son. Just don't fucking think you can get out of this that easy." A rough voice was muffled by his auditory sensors flickering in and out. Still though, he couldn't help but to lift one side of his lips in amusement at such a weak threat as Hank was trying his best to sound tough as usual.With Hank there, a hand pressed against his chest to stop the loss of Thirium, it made Connor wonder where Conrad was. His flickering vision shifted to scan the room until he finally located the other android. At first, Connor didn't know what the upgraded model was doing, but the longer he tried to focus, the clearer the image became.

Conrad had one foot planted in the center of the gunman's chest, his heel digging into the power cell, rendering the android beneath him immobile but aware. Aware of the fact that Conrad had his hands wrapped around the man's wrists and was slowly pulling upwards. Wiring and synthetic muscles snapped and broke as Conrad gaze coolly down at the man trapped beneath the sole of his dress shoe as if he'd just caught an insect beneath his shoe and decided to make it suffer first for having the audacity to cross his path.

Tubing was stretched to the point that it couldn't take the strain and finally snapped, sending thirium splashing all over Conrad's neatly polished shoes and perfectly pressed black slacks but he paid no heed to the mess. He made sure the android on the floor had to watch as Conrad pulled his arms out of their sockets slowly, making that fear build, the anticipation of the moment he would no longer feel his arms. Pain wasn't felt on a level like humans, but fear was and Conrad knew all too well on how to play with someone's fear.

Tossing the dismembered arms to the floor like they were useless wastes, he slide his foot up along the armless android's chest to apply pressure on the man's neck. Skin deactivated around the intense pressure as the android was forced to remain on the floor. This allowed Conrad to bend over, fingers pressing down, dull nails tearing through shirt fabric and the in between the white plating of the android until he seized the power cell between his percise fingers. Thirium welled around the tips of his fingers as he eased the cell out, letting the android feel his imminent demise and having no power to stop it. Straightening up, Conrad held the power cell to inspect with idle contempt. Those harsh gray eyes flicked down, catching the other android's green eyes. Once he held them, he crushed the power cell in his hand, letting the shattered pieces rain down on the other android who was faced with certain death now.

Removing his foot, Conrad dropped the rest of the pieces before moving his hand to his lips. His tongue dragging over the thirium that stained his fingers, like a predator who had just feasted. His eyes staring down with a chilled sort of satisfaction as the android gave a small shudder before going still. The last thing he had seen was the android who took sadistic pleasure in ending his life, who held no sort of intense emotion other than a mechanical delight.

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