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thetravellingvagrant · 5 months

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Day 9: In Which I Am Largely Satisfied

I...don't really know what to write about yesterday, if I'm honest. I think it was probably the least interesting and blogworthy day of possibly any trip I have undertaken, so please do be aware and pre-warned that this entry may be even less of a zinger than usual.

It began with me waking up at a fairly comfortable 8am after a night of weirdly disjointed sleep, which gave me ample time to deal with the morning's necessities. Owing to getting my exit strategy down to a fine art at this point, I found myself shitted, showered and packed with an incredibly pleasing and uncharacteristically huge glut of free time on my hands before I was due to catch my bus. I had also made sandwiches.

I hoisted my insanely heavy bag back onto my back, wiped down the desk, which I had, over the course of the previous few days absolutely coated with butter in the pursuit of making lunch in lieu of a useable kitchen and set off, walking the same route to the nearby metro station that I had for the previous two days, getting off at the same stop and walking, without incident to a bus station I had already been to.

The bus station is modestly sized and intuitive to navigate, so I found my stance within seconds and waited there for a not-uncomfortable amount of time before being allowed on board the bus to my next destination: Granada.

Taking my seat on the bus was a bit of a faff, I suppose, as I was asked to move from my assigned seat by a couple who wanted to sit together and then from whichever of their assigned seats I was now sat in by another, different couple, who also wanted to sit together, but all of this was done very politely and in good humour, so it is understandably hard to spin any kind of tale out of. I had even managed to nab myself a window seat in the process, so...hurrah.

I did have someone sit next to me in the end – a diminutive French woman, though she spend the first two hours of the three hours jaunt asleep, head lolling backwards and mouth hanging open, while I used the time to catch up with this scintillating blog. For the final hour, she did wake up to take a picture of the bus we were on from what had to be every conceivable angle possible, in order to post a million different stories on instagram with captions reading things like “this girl is on a bus!”, which I know because I was looking over her shoulder - sue me – and yeah that was slightly irritating/borderline deranged, but it wasn't that intrusive and only lasted about fifty minutes before we were deposited in Granada and I would never have to see her again. This isn't foreshadowing for once.

I hadn't eaten lunch on the bus, as I was sitting next to someone and so didn't want to assault them with chewing noises and the faint waft of meat – not that it stopped the French girl from tucking into a box of penne pasta and bin juice, three inches from my face – so when we arrived in the city, I walked to a nearby park, where I sat on a bench and had some lunch, in what is becoming a bit of a tradition on this trip.

Lunch finished and podcast enjoyed, I hopped – again without incident or significant effort – onto the city's easy to navigate metro system and within fifteen minutes, stood outside my hostel for the next few days. This would be the first – and indeed only – time I would be in shared accommodation on this trip. That, at least, should provide some juicy bloggins, I thought.

It, however, did not. This was largely due to this hostel – Broz Hostel, if you find yourself here and without a room – is about the best shared accommodation I have ever lived in. It's spremely comfortable, has private lights, sockets and shelves on every bunk; the beds aren't made of rickety old metal bars that squeak and let all your shit fall off the side in the night; there are thick blackout curtains on every bunk that offer comprehensive protection from both light and the accusing stares of others and most surprisingly of all, all of my dorm-mates are deathly, deathly quiet and respectful and friendly (when they whisper a pleasant greeting to you, for fear of upsetting anyone else in the room). I just cannot generate material, today.

I had a nap not long after I arrived; my sleep from the previous night not having been the best, then set about having, as noted that it would be in the previous entry, a right nice rest day. I spent the majority of it finishing up my Christmas shopping, which satisfies the rare double-whammy criteria of being unpublishable due to both potential spoiler and just not being at all interesting in the slightest. Killing it, today.

With my shopping handled quickly, efficiently and without...too much faff, I jumped out to a nearby supermarket to buy the ingredients for a lovely salmony, lemony pasta without difficulty or embarrassment, then went home to make and eat it in a disappointingly quiet and well stocked hostel kitchen. I burned it – the food, not the kitchen – and it was slightly too salty for my tastes, but it was also the first time I had cooked myself anything proper on this trip, to date, so I award it 10/10. Would – and probably will – make it again, tomorrow.

I sauntered back upstairs to my bunk and worked on presents a little longer, definitely being the loudest person in the room in the process, until about 1am when I found myself too tired to continue and turned into bed. It was exactly then that two drunk girls returned to the room, whispering in that incredibly loud way that drunk people trying to be quiet do, which just exaggerates all their plosives in their speech and is actually, probably, more distracting than just speaking normally. Especially if they just spoke normally outside the room, instead...

“Oh boy” I whispered to myself, rubbing my sleepy little hands together with glee, getting ready to enjoy being absolutely furious for a little bit, “This'll be something I can complain about, at least...”

They stopped whispering forty five seconds later and went to bed, very quietly. The loudest thing in the room now just the noise of me – for some reason – still rubbing my hands together.

I eventually stopped doing that – it was a bit weird, to be honest – and followed the drunk girls' suit, turning in for a night of basically fine and, crucially, very quiet sleep. Tomorrow's entry will be better. Probably.

#travelling #vagrant #travel #photography #bus #hostel #spain #sevilla #seville #granada

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veebs-hates-video-games · 8 months

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Blacksmith of the Sand Kingdom is more fun than any 6/10 game that does everything ok but nothing great has any right to be

I'm going to attempt to get myself to post stuff here again even though I don't feel up to it most of the time, just so I don't forget my thoughts on things or forget how to write, and I guess we can start with this one because I just finished it over the past week.

Literally nothing in the game hasn't been done before dozens of times, frequently just as well if not better, but somehow it's still pretty satisfying anyway, and a lot of people who've tried to do those same things have managed to screw them up in ways that they avoided here.

The crafting system was just interesting enough to keep my attention until I finished the game, but it's nothing compared to an Atelier game.

The turn-based combat has a decent number of options available, but it doesn't give you much incentive to actually use most of them and doesn't stand out much in most ways (beyond how amazingly you can break it).

The music is kind of catchy and still stuck in my head, but beyond that it doesn't really stand out in any way.

Most of the art is serviceable and nice enough to look at, but the animations are kinda stiff and a lot of stuff is relatively generic. The character portraits are genuinely pretty good though.

The characters are pretty generic too, and you can guess exactly which stereotypes they fall into right away and be completely right, but they have just enough interactions with each other to make them mostly pretty likeable to spend time with them anyway.

And the story is just a big pile of tropes and cliches, but in a pretty inoffensive way that serves its purpose to move the game forward and be mildly rewarding when things get resolved.

Is it a great game? Absolutely not. Did I have a lot of fun with it anyway? Heck yeah!

It has a satisfying loop of doing quick runs of dungeons to collect materials, going back to town to talk to people and turn in quests, crafting a bunch of new stuff, selling the extras in your shop, and then repeating it all the next day. There's nothing revolutionary, and in a lot of ways it looks and feels like something from like 25 years ago, but they've managed to get rid of a lot of the rough edges a lot of games that actually came out back then tended to have, so there are very few barriers to just playing the game if you get into that loop.

I know Kemco has a reputation these days for publishing D-tier games that are low budget and not very good (and let's be real, the physical copy of Lagoon I still have for the SNES from when I was a kid tells me no one should be surprised that's what they do now because that's what they've always done), but there are some hidden gems in there, and this makes me curious about Rideon's (the developer's) other games. I guess I'll find out when Marenian Tavern Story: Patty and the Hungry God inevitably goes on sale again in the next few weeks.

Also since I can't be bothered to figure out where to edit it into this post higher up or make a separate one for it, here's something Blacksmith of the Sand Kingdom got right that much higher budget games that in theory should be much more polished surprisingly often don't: the way the menus feel.

Sure, they could've organized them a little better so you didn't need to dig through so many of them to do certain things like socket orbs into your gear, but they're quick and responsive and have options for filtering and sorting what's in them too. You can also scroll them one line at a time or an entire page at a time, when a surprising number of games don't bother with the latter.

And the real thing they got right that way too many games don't is that they're nearly instantaneous. I think it was World of Final Fantasy (definitely a Squenix game I played in the past year or so anyway) where the menus take a second or two to open up and become interactable, which is mildly annoying itself but made so much worse by the menu and cursor being drawn to the screen right away but not becoming responsive until that second or two is up. It's super obnoxious to visually indicate that you can do stuff when you can't do stuff yet, and I had to train myself over the course of the game to wait before pushing any buttons every time I opened the menu.

Something that's somewhere in between the two is Xenoblade Chronicles 3, where I'm pretty sure the menus take about the same amount of time to open, but the animation of them fading in is used to partially hide that, and more importantly they don't draw the cursor until it's already ready. As soon as it looks like you can interact with it you actually can for real, which feels infinitely better.

Anyway, that's the kind of thing that tons of AAA games manage to screw up that Blacksmith of the Sand Kingdom largely avoids. It also mostly manages to avoid doing anything truly great, but just not having tons of little common annoyances goes a long way because they add up.

Blacksmith of the Sand Kingdom: it's ok! And sometimes that's enough.

#blacksmith of the sand kingdom

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behindyourbarrette · 3 years

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like you a latte - matcha latte

← previous | series masterlist | join my taglist | next part ->

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

a/n: SURPRISE i felt like dropping this a DAY early!!lololololol but here it is! i appreciate the love on the last two parts so so soooo much :) can’t beliEVE WE ARE HALFWAY DONE!! reblog if u enjoyed

—

Needless to say, Twilight Time isn’t very crowded on Thursday afternoons.

You rarely pick up closing shifts anymore—for reasons totally unrelated to the doctor who almost exclusively arrives in the morning—but you’re covering for Sally, and it’s a nice day out. The rain has let up in favor of mild weather, the sun just barely peeking through the clouds as people drift past the shop. Despite the fact that there’s more foot traffic on the street, not many people come in to order. You don’t blame them. Why have hot coffee on a day like this?

Your back is turned when you hear a group enter, and your heart soars at the prospect of tips. For whatever reason, most people are more inclined to tip when they know their friends are watching. You call out to let them know you’ll be right with them, and after you’re done fidgeting with the settings of the coffee grinder, you turn.

It’s Spencer. But he’s not alone.

There are a total of four people before you, each intimidating you in slightly different ways. They’re all agents, as evidenced by their not-so-concealed carries. You recognize a few of the characters. Spencer’s told you about JJ, who you assume to be the friendly blonde, and Penelope, who is a vision in fuchsia. That leaves Emily, who’s whispering to JJ, eyes fixed on you. You try to absorb the sight, them together. Spencer looks at ease, a wide smile on his face as he looks between you and the group.

“Hey, Spencer. These your coworkers?” You crack a nervous smile, knitting your fingers together. He nods, introducing them each in turn. JJ grins in your direction, and Penelope waves at you with a fingerlessly-gloved hand. Emily reaches across the bar to shake your hand. You get the sense that there’s something Spencer hasn’t told you.

“What can I get you guys?”

Spencer shrugs, defaulting to JJ and Emily. Penelope pipes up, eyes bright as she peers at the menu above you.

“Do you have matcha, sweetheart? I’ve been meaning to try that. It’s great for your skin.” You nod, pulling a cup out and inscribing Penelope’s name on it. JJ and Emily both order americanos, exchanging a sheepish grin. After setting their cups aside, you turn to Spencer.

“Genius, you should really try the matcha. It’ll give you brain power. Not that you need any more.” Penelope does jazz hands to emphasize her excitement, and Spencer shrugs. You watch them interact for a moment before you realize he’s turned to you for your approval.

“Oh. I really like matcha. It’s green tea, and a matcha latte tastes light and sweet. I think you’d like it.” He nods, and orders it hot. Penelope orders iced; you smile as you consider that they compliment each other, eventually turning away to prepare everyone’s drinks. They’re all relatively simple, and you manage to include latte art in the hot drinks. Spencer’s is last, and you flick your wrist to finish the design. Crossing the bar, you hand each agent their drink in turn.

Penelope sips at her drink first, the bright green matching one of her rings perfectly. Spencer eyes his dubiously, poking at it with a wooden stirring stick.

“It’s very green.” He whispers to Penelope, who cackles in response.

JJ catches your eye as you watch, lingering between the bar and their seats. With a smile, she waves you over.

“You’ve totally ruined other coffee for Spence. We had to come try it for ourselves.” She whispers, leaning down. You aren’t sure how to feel about her tone; there’s a glint of something in her eye, something playfully secretive. You’re not sure what part of this you’re not in on.The idea of Spencer mentioning you at all is foreign—sure, you’ve told your roommates, and your coworkers found out that you do, in fact, have a favorite regular. Still, you never considered the idea that you bleed into other parts of his life. You steal a glance at him while JJ compliments her americano. He’s sipping at his matcha, a green mustache left behind.

“You have a magic touch, Y/N. I don’t think I’ve ever had coffee this good in the states.” Emily flashes you a grin as if she can sense your nervousness. You relax a little, asking her about her work abroad instead of getting lost in your head. She strikes you as a diplomat, and a compliment from her feels like something to be savored. Penelope raves to you about the health benefits of matcha, and you immediately feel welcomed by her. If you were to run a study comparing the approachability between pink polka dots and pantsuits, you're sure that polka dots would win.

“Are you an agent, too?” You ask, stirring your own iced coffee with a straw. Eyeing the clock, you’ve decided that this counts as your break. Tyler be damned. Penelope giggles, shaking her head.

“Oh God no. Well, technically. I’m a technical analyst, so I work on the computer and tech end of things.” She explains, and you nod. It makes a lot of sense. While both JJ and Emily exude the energy of most cops—authoritative, with a critical eye—Garcia does’t fit that mold. It’s this that draws you to her.

You learn that JJ has a son named Henry, a surprisingly Southern boyfriend to match, and that Emily has a cat named Sergio. Despite their highbrow titles, you don’t feel out of place. It’s easy to sip at your coffee, the cup cool against your fingertips, and listen.

“Are you in school? Spence mentioned that you majored in literature.” JJ sets her cup down, flexing her fingers against the air. You feel yourself flush now that the attention is on you. The fact that he chose this detail to divulge sticks between your ribs. You haven't told him much about your work—he insisted on reading your thesis, and even reread the source material to better discuss it with you—but apparently, what you have discussed has made an impression.

“Yeah, actually. I’m in my second year of law school.” You admit. Emily nods in approval, reaching out to high five you.

“Damn. With all the assholes you deal with in customer service, you’ll make a great attorney.” You high five her with a small smile on your face, stealing a glance at Spencer. He seems elated, clearly enjoying the dynamic he’s observing.

“Do you want to go into criminal law?”

JJ asks, eyes wide with curiosity. You shake your head ruefully. They take it well, shrugging their shoulders. To their credit, their branch of law enforcement deals with the process prior to prosecution. You shudder at the idea of what happens after they catch the bad guys.

“No, not really. I’m looking at either the entertainment or environmental sector.”

The group murmurs, and the conversation devolves into small talk about law. You look to Spencer for an escape, and he suggests that they take a walk. Once the girls have trickled out of the room, each hugging you goodbye, you’re left alone with Spencer.

“Hey.”

You laugh at the simplicity of his greeting, turning to toss your empty coffee cup into the trash. Spencer flushes a deep shade of red, raking his hands through his hair.

“Your friends aren’t how I expected. Really cool, though. Especially for like, Quantico professionals.” You wipe the counter down, and the reality that you’re on the clock hits you, a little dizzily. Did his coworkers really just want to meet Spencer’s barista? The realization tastes a little bitter, and you bite back any further questioning in favor of looking up at him.

“Yeah. They’re like family.” He looks out the window, hands deep in his pockets. His whole demeanor is stiff, and you resist the urge to reach out and force his shoulders down from his ears.

“Did you like the matcha? I wasn’t sure you would. I used the oat milk you like.” Slowly, he relaxes. With a small smile, he nods.

“It was good. I like most teas, I’m finding. It wasn’t too sweet.” You add matcha to the mental list you keep, of drinks he likes. It’s become your mission to expand it. In the months since he started branching out, you’ve managed to add a few drinks to his core rotation.

“You know you’re one of my friends too, right?”

This catches you off guard. You pause in the motion of sweeping the floor, carefully raising your eyes to meet his. While nervous, he sounds sincere. When met with your silence, he continues.

“I just wanted you to know.”

You nod carefully. The implications of this are something you’ll consider later, when you’re alone. He’s only confirming something you’ve already known, but something about it stings. The word crosses your mind briefly, but it sticks. It’s bittersweet.

“I know.” Your voice is low, soft against the din of the coffee shop. Spencer doesn’t look satisfied, opening his mouth to say something then closing it again. He glances between you and the window.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

taglist:

@everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @coldlilheart @idonotexiste @aberrant-annie @onyourfingertips @bakugouswh0r3 @uptowngotmedown @infinite-tides @chaosconcerns @littlewritersinspace @okivia @forever-not-gonna-sink @insert-gay-here @just-another-persona123 @winniemjf **if tags don’t work, check your visibility settings

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

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God I love your blog I spent all day just looking at it and I’m like yes more Omori brain worms

Also, what do you think the Omori gang’s jobs would be when they’re adults? I kinda meta’d and thought Sunny would be a little comic book artist with the character Omoriboy but I’m curious on your thoughts

Awww thank you! Also you have given me the perfect excuse to show off my happiest AU aka the ‘everyone stays in town together, and lowkey they all live at Hero’s house’ I have a lot of different ideas for what they could end up being, so if this isn’t your cup of tea it’s not my firm canon haha! I actually do have an artist sunny series which would probably be up your alley if you were interested in hearing about that too! Alsooooo this got long again it’s under a read more. I’m calling it Come Home series and I really like it if you guys are interested in hearing more 0-0 I only talk about Basil Sunny and Kel here haha because it got long long, but there’s defintiely another part coming to this if you guys want it!

Basil starts going back to school post-canon, and he ends up doing pretty good for his last two years, but it’s still a struggle considering he missed so much school over the last four years. The idea of going to college is particularly stressful to him, so Polly doesn’t push it on him. She didn’t end up finishing college, and she turned out alright.

Polly does want Basil to be thinking about his future though, and so she encourages him to find something related to what he’s passionate about. Which leads to Basil working part time at Fix-It in the gardening section.

He quickly branches out of just gardening, although that is still his favorite. There’s something deeply gratifying about seeing what he’s created with his own two hands, and having people ask for his help only with simple things he can fix for them.

Basil starts up a deep mentoring relationship with the couple who owns Fix-It. They like to hear his passionate rambles about the flowers, and they like the ideas he has. Basil starts to lead flower arrangement classes, and they end up being a big hit.

When he’s in the spring of his senior year, they ask him about his plans. When they find out he isn’t really all that interested in college, they ask if he could come on full time, and maybe even apprentice. They have a son of their own, but he is a lawyer and has no interest in the shop. Basil is excited by this, and he almost immediately agrees.

There’s a lot more to running the shop then he thought, but he loves it. He’s content just to be the manager for now, but the couple has assured him that within the next five years they plan to retire and the shop will be his for good.

Kel does end up getting a scholarship for basketball. It’s to a good school (not quite Hero’s level, but better than his parents expected). It’s a big state school compared to Hero’s tiny private, but his parents are happy and they have a winning basketball team. The problem is that Kel has no idea what he would want to do.

He had some ideas, but I think that learning the truth really affected him. He had thought he wanted to be a basketball star, or something to do with the sports industry, but that all feels so juvenile now. Now Kel wants to do something real and good. He wants to work with people, but he isn’t sure what that might mean.

Kel goes to school as an undecided major, and they stick him in a bunch of different types of classes. Most of them are painfully boring, hard, and he just isn’t interested. He briefly considers dropping out, but he knows how disappointed his mom and dad would be. They didn’t get the opportunity to get a college degree, so it kind of feels like slapping them in the face if he gave back all the money he got just because he didn’t have any passion.

There is one class that Kel really enjoys. The class is called Child’s Play and it’s a psychology course. Specifically a class on the influence of play children’s lives. It’s still hard for him, and he struggles to fully comprehend the material, but it’s something he’s passionate about.

He talks with his advisor about it, and the man suggests combining all of the things he’s been passionate about so far. He wants to do good for other people, he is interested in sports, and he liked learning about how children work. His advisor puts him in an education couse and a few physical health courses, and Kel enters his sophomore year with a physical education major.

Kel doesn’t graduate with honors like Hero, but he does graduate with a plan. He does his student teaching at Faraway High, his connections with his coach and the school helping to grease the wheels. (It doesn’t hurt that he’s living with Sunny by this point, and Sunny got a job offer in Faraway that he’s going to accept...but more on that later)

They offer him a tentative position at the end of the year, and he accepts it. He also takes on the basketball team, and they win the playoffs for the first time since he graduated, which cinches his job in tight.

Sunny also doesn’t end up going to college. Not only did he not have the grades, it just wasn’t something he thought he would be very good at. He doesn’t really have a plan, just that he wants to still be by his friends. Hero is far from them now, and Aubrey is planning on going away too, but Basil and Kel are staying close by

He ends up talking to Kel about it late one night, and Kel proposes a great idea. They’ll get an apartment together off campus instead of him living in the dorms, and Sunny can figure his life out while Kel gets a friend and study partner.

Sunny’s mother is very happy with this idea, and Kel’s parents are satisfied that he won’t be off partying every night if he has Sunny with him, so they agree as well. What Sunny’s mother isn’t excited about is the idea of her baby not getting any degree or anything. So she makes a compromise. She and Sunny will find a good trade school near Kel’s college, and Sunny will take classes in something he enjoys

She assumes he will pick art classes or something that she knows he likes, but Sunny surprisingly picks veterinary certification. It feels out of left field, but if it makes Sunny happy and he’s going to go to his internships and his classes then so be it.

Sunny is never top of the class, but he is serious about doing well. There are aspects of the job that he does not do well with, but he manages. He gets his vet tech certification and finds a starting position near where he lives with Kel

Living with Kel is a breath of fresh air. It feels good to have a partner in life who doesn’t expect him to talk or to act like everyone else. Kel is a master at reading Sunny, and it’s a bone deep relaxation to not have to try and express himself. Most of the time Sunny can just listen and let Kel talk to him. They work well with chores and food and generally everything. Every day feels like a sleepover honestly, and Sunny starts to smile a bit more and reach just a little father out of his comfort zone.

Kel loves living with Sunny. Every night they get to just spend time together and enjoy each others presence, and sometimes Basil will come up and they all get to eat dinner together in their little shoebox apartment. One of their windowsills is full of plants that Basil has brought them.

At the end of their four years Kel knows that he wants to go back to Faraway to work. He has been commuting there for student teaching, and while it’s only an hour, it’s still pretty far. The problem is that he can’t imagine leaving Sunny alone. Not after four years of them being together every single day. Then Sunny reveals that he found a job in the town next to Faraway that he wants to take. He doesn’t want to leave Kel though, and he’s not sure what to do.

They have a long conversation that night, and they both agree that they want to stay together. It’s been an unspoken thing, but neither of them ended up having any long term partner in the last four years. They don’t have romantic feelings for one another, but they want to continue what they have. It’s safe, it’s lovely, and they feel secure in their bond. Whatever happens they want to decide as a team, as a partnership.

With Kel and Sunny both coming back to Faraway they assume that they’re going to have to try and find a place to live closer. They’re going to stay with Kel’s parents until they do, but Basil has a better idea.

Polly loves Basil a lot. She has adored getting to raise him and helping him and guiding him the last six years. But now her quiet sweet boy is a grown man, and his parents stopped paying her for caring for him over a year ago. She knows that the best thing to do would be to detach herself and to let him continue to grow without her constant presence.

Basil isn’t sure he’s ready to be all by himself, and when he finds out Kel and Sunny are coming back to Faraway, he offers to let them stay at his house. It might be a bit cramped all three of them, and they don’t have to, but it could be nice. They say yes before he can even begin to second guess himself

So as bright and bushy 21/22 year olds, Kel, Basil, and Sunny all have Come Home.

#asks #agentmaplficent #omori #omori headcanons #omori headcanon #omori au #omori post canon #Come Home series #omori sunny #omori kel #omori basil #A bit of #queerplatonic suntan #omori suntan #kind of morphing into #queerplatonic sunkissed #they're homies okay #they just like to be together #omori polly

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sapphirelass · 3 years

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Two Peas in a Pod - Harry PotterxSister!Reader

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

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

For this one-shot I have taken inspiration from both the book and the film, as well as left out parts of the original dialogue that, for the purpose of this story, felt irrelevant.

Word count: ≈ 2400

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

You probably already knew this, but still XD

(Y/N) - Your name

(Y/N/N) - Your nickname

(Y/H/C) - Your hair colour

(Y/H/L) - Your hair length

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

Two Peas in a Pod

Harry Potter and his twin sister (Y/N) were like two peas in a pod. Always had been. Supposedly, that was what happened when young magicians had to grow up with muggles, especially if those muggles were named “Dursley”. Harry was always more impulsive, whereas (Y/N) took on the role of the rational one, yet they had both been placed in Gryffindor house by the sorting hat four years prior.

It was now the first of September 1995, and last year had been a rough one. Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard who had killed Harry and (Y/N)’s parents, had just come back and despite their efforts, this holiday had been more miserable than any of the previous ones. Dudley and his friends, dementor attacks, and a general lack of communication with the wizarding world left the twins in a particularly bad mood. They arrived at Kings Cross, and after pulling Harry away from Draco Malfoy, (Y/N), her brother, Ron and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts express, and found a place to sit.

During the start-of-the-year feast, the small group of friends quickly realized that something was wrong. Their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - Dolores Umbridge - was a ministry employe, which was weird on its own, but the way she spoke, acted, and kept interrupting Dumbledore with shrill, irritating *hum hum*’s made them all feel queasy.

After a quiet discussion in the common room (and quite a bit of loud arguing between Harry and Seamus Finnigan), they went to bed, yawning, and not exactly looking forward to that year’s first period of DADA.

***

They entered the classroom, and to their surprise, Umbridge actually wasn’t there yet. Harry and (Y/N) shared a confused look, but went to sit down, Harry with Ron, and (Y/N) with Hermione. Eventually though, the professor did arrive, her unnaturally high-pitched voice bringing them all back to reality.

“Good morning, class!” she said cheerfully

There was a quiet murmur among the students, and Umbridge shook her head.

“Good Morning!” she said again, this time more sternly. “I expect you to answer me when spoken to.”

A slightly louder “Good morning professor” could be heard, and though Umbridge didn’t seem too pleased, she decided to move on with the lesson.

“Ordinary Wizarding Levels - OWLs” she started. “Your previous teachers in this subject have all been quite questionable choices, however this year things will be the way they were meant to. Open your books on page 4.”

A few minutes had passed before Hermione raised her hand and said “Professor, there is nothing in here about using defensive spells.”

“Using spells?” Umbridge asked, laughing nastily

“We’re not to use magic?” Ron asked

“You will be learning defensive magic in a safe, risk-free environment”

“But”, said Harry, rather angrily, “what good would that do? If we were attacked that wouldn’t be risk-free!”

“Ha!”, laughed Umbridge, “And who exactly do you think would want to attack a helpless child such as yourself? Besides, the education you will receive will be more than enough for you to pass your OWLs, and that is after all just what school is about.” She finished with a smirk, looking rather satisfied with her speech.

(Y/N), who had sat quietly this whole time shifted slightly in her chair, and exclaimed: “It’s not though!

“Sorry?” Umbridge asked, dumbfounded

“School isn’t solely about receiving good grades! It’s about preparing the students for life, and supplying them with the tools and knowledge necessary in order to succeed and improve. If we’re not going to do that, then why, may I ask, is this a mandatory course? It’s already starting to seem rather pointless to me.”

Harry was perplexed. How his sister always managed to, 1: use her words in such a remarkable way, and 2: remain calm through the most infuriating of situations was a mystery to him, however he turned his gaze back towards Umbridge, waiting for her reply.

“Nonsense” She said. “This course is compulsory, and rightfully so!”

“How though?” Inquired (Y/N), pushing it further than she probably should have. “Can you name any situation, apart from the exam, where your teachings will be of any help to us? Or didn’t the ministry consider that?”

That was the top of the iceberg.

“DETENTION!!” shouted Umbridge. “My office, 8:30 would you be so kind, Ms Potter.”

(Y/N) flinched. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, however detention was not something she had to endure very often. That was more Harry’s thing. She sank quietly back onto her chair, and Umbridge continued with her boring, unnecessary lesson, reciting facts and procedures they had all learnt about 4 years earlier. (Y/N) could feel her brother staring, practically burning a hole in her neck, but somehow, probably thanks to Ron, he kept quiet for the rest of the class.

An hour later, class ended and none of the Gryffindor students wasted any time getting out of Umbridge’s classroom. (Y/N) threw her stuff into her brown, leather bag and dashed out of the room without making eye contact with her brother or friends.

“(Y/N/N)!” Harry shouted. “Wait up!”

He caught up with his sister on the stairs leading down to McGonagall’s classroom.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking up at him with an annoyed stare she said “Yes Harry! Just brilliant!” with a sarcastic tone in her voice. She kept on walking, but Harry grabbed her shoulder. A few years ago, they had been roughly the same size, but Harry had grown A LOT, and was by now almost seven inches taller. All the quidditch training had apparently paid off too, and (Y/N) knew instantly that she would never be able to escape his firm, yet gentle grip. He glanced down on her with a worried look on his face.

“I’m serious!” he said. “Stop”

She turned around and faced him. “What?” She spat at him, suddenly noticing her icy voice.

“Sorry…” (Y/N) mumbled, “she just pissed me off. I’m fine.” Her facial expression softened and she met Harry’s eyes for the first time since class ended. He let go of her shoulders, and was just about to say something when a tall ginger came running at full speed and gave (Y/N) a supportive pat on the back.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “(Y/N), did you see the look on her face? Bloody hell, she was angrier than Malfoy after Harry beat him in his first quidditch match!”

“Yes” stated (Y/N) simply, as Hermione made her way down the stairs, “I saw…”

“Oh cheer up!” stated Ron, “an hour or two of detention isn’t the end of the world. If you ask me, it was totally worth it!”

Hermione gave him a disapproving stare as (Y/N) sadly stated, “It might not have been the cleverest thing to do” Both Harry and Hermione blinked at her with a sort of “you-don’t-say?” kind of look as she kept on speaking. “But you must admit that it’s the truth? Defence against the dark arts has never been as important as it is right now. We are all going to die before the end of the year unless we learn and improve?!”

“You’re right.” Hermione muttered, and surprisingly, she smiled slightly. “But we’ll have to talk about that later, otherwise we’ll be late for transfiguration. Come on!”

***

The rest of the day went by rather quickly, and the quartet soon found themselves in front of the fireplace in the common room. It was about 8:20 when (Y/N) stood up, grabbed a jacket, and left for Umbridge’s office.

“Good luck!” Harry said, frowning deeply, “I’ll wait for you here.”

(Y/N) turned around quickly, “Haz, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine. You need your sleep and I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

Harry gave her a sort or irritated look, to which she sighed and left without a word.

“What do you think she’ll have her do?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t know” Harry hissed, “but I’m sure she’ll tell me when she gets back...”

The remaining three looked at each other. Ron threw Harry a chocolate frog, and then - they waited…

***

*knock knock*

There was a slight clinking noise, like metal on china, followed by a repulsing “come in”. (Y/N) took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Ah!” chirped Umbridge, “Potter, sit down, will you?”

(Y/N) apprehensively made her way across the room to the chair her so-called “professor” had pointed at. She sat down and looked around nervously.

“You will be writing some sentences for me today, no” Umbridge said, as (Y/N) reached down to her bag to pick up something to write with. “no, not with your own quill. You’ll be using a rather special one of mine.” She smiled evilly, and pushed a black, pointy feather across the table.

(Y/N) grabbed it carefully and asked in a silent, trembling voice, “what should I write?”

“Oh, right! How about… ‘I must obey my superiors’?”

***

It was about three hours later, when (Y/N) slowly made her way back to the common room, red, hot blood dripping from her left hand leaving a small trail through the corridor. The pain had intensified, and was by this point almost unbearable. She took a quick detour to the girls’ bathroom, hoping to be able to clean herself up a bit before having to face her friends and brother. She had told him to go to sleep, after all, it was almost midnight by now, but she knew him all too well. The odds of him being in bed were absolutely zero.

She watched the thick, red liquid disappear down the sink and let a few tears fall, before grabbing some paper making sure no tears or blood could be seen. She had to make it through the common room up to the dormitories quickly though, since she was sure Harry would be able to tell she’d been crying, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Sure, she could just tell him, but something inside her argued against that. He had been rather angry and distressed all summer, and she knew he wasn’t feeling much better now. Harry had enough to deal with without handling her problems too.

Entering the common room, roughly four seconds had passed before her brother was by her side.

“Hey,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

She nodded and mumbled a quiet. “Yes. ‘m tired though, night Harry”

She walked the stairs up to her dorm, leaving Harry behind. He simply stood there dumbfounded. What had just happened? “Oh… okay, night (Y/N/N)”

She didn’t answer…

***

The following morning, he found her at the breakfast table, slowly digesting a tiny portion of porridge. She was wearing one of his old quidditch jumpers underneath her cloak. He knew, because it was far too big for her, and the sleeves reached down to her fingertips.

“Hey,” he said, ruffling her (Y/H/L), (Y/H/C) hair, “Feeling better?”

“Sure, “ she murmured, slowly pulling the sleeves even further down. He gave her a supportive hug.

“But come on now, “ he urged her. “You can’t be sad forever. What did she have you do?”

“Nothing…”

“(Y/N/N)!”

“Just write some sentences. It was fine, rather dull to be honest with you.” She threw the spoon into the bowl, and pushed it away. “How are you feeling? Any bad dreams?”

“Always…” he muttered, shaking his head at the milk that had splashed out on the table, “could have been worse though.”

Harry made himself some toast, as Ron and Hermione joined them in the great hall.

***

A week or so later Harry had had enough. It was in defence against the dark arts, on a rather cold Tuesday afternoon that he finally snapped, and shouted at professor Umbridge, who seemed almost too happy for a reason to give him detention.

The gang sat, yet again, around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, when Harry suddenly left and climbed through the portrait hole. He came back a few hours later, a downright furious look on his face, and walked straight up to his sister without even noticing the ghost he had stumbled through. He looked down at her smaller frame, his quidditch jumper yet again pulled over her head.

“Let me see, ” he said through gritted teeth, causing (Y/N) to look up at him, trying her best to act confused.

“Wha…”

“(Y/N) - let. me. see.” he repeated firmly, his emerald eyes penetrating the mental wall behind which she had been trying so hard to hide her troubles.

She closed her eyes and pulled her sleeve up to her elbow. The blood had naturally dried, however five heart wrenching words were etched into her still red, irritated skin.

I must obey my superiors

No one said a thing. (Y/N) was staring at the floor, not daring to meet her brother’s eyes, all while Harry felt madder than he ever had before.

Madder than when Dudley had been pushing him around the school yard.

Madder than when Malfoy had taunted him because of the dementors.

Madder than when he had found out that his aunt and uncle had lied about their parents true fate for almost 10 years.

This was his sister, and it was far from okay.

Without thinking, Harry was just about to shout at her for keeping something like that from him, when he noticed that she was crying. Soft, quiet sobs that she were clearly trying to hide. It felt as if all his anger simply washed away, and he crouched down and took her hand in his.

Harry’s hand was still covered in blood. He hadn’t had time to clean it, but had instead taken the shortest way to the common room, after realizing what had happened. Raising his right hand, he pulled her closer and felt her lean her head on his chest. They sat like that, arms wrapped around each other, for hours and slowly started drifting off to sleep.

Were they okay? Not at all. Would they be? Absolutely! Because they had each other, and when it really came down to it, that was all they needed, as the Potter twins were just like two peas in a pod.

~ L

Masterlist

#harry potter #harryxsister #harry potter x twin #harry potter x sister #harry potter x sister!reader #harry x reader #harry x sister!reader #umbridge #detention #hp #hp imagine #stories #sister #siblings #twins #harry x sister

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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 3 years

Text

Cooking class

Word count: 2109

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: Very minor injury (let me know if I need to add more)

Request: Hey! I saw your post for a request and this idea popped into my head. Y/n is a fantastic cook, they can do everything right and make great food all the time, while Natasha usually sets towels on fire when they try. Y/n suggests that Natasha enrolls in a cooking class, and does it with them so Natasha doesn't feel so bad. Y/n ends up rewarding Natasha with little kisses and 'good job!'s for the things they do well in class, and eating bits and pieces of the foods they mess up to prove that it's still edible and they're learning

Summary: Natasha is a horrible cook so reader takes Natasha to a cooking class.

A/n: So this was an anon request so I hope whoever requested this likes it! Also this is the second fic in two days which may not seem like a big deal but I actually feel productive for once. Anyways I hope everyone enjoys and I hope to finish some of my other requests soon in case anyone is wondering, and I’m always open for new requests.

Natasha let out a frustrated sound so you looked over, trying not to laugh at your girlfriend but failing spectacularly.

“It’s not funny.” She whines looking over at you with an annoyed expression.

“Sorry love,” you respond, “keep going I promise not to interrupt again.” She narrows her eyes at you but turns back to her task. She’s preparing some pizza dough that she is going to use later on in the class and honestly you never thought someone could mess up on pizza dough that much. There is dough literally everywhere, the sink, counters, floor and even her face. The most funny thing however is how she is completely covered in flour from when she opened the bag wrong and it flew into her face. Surprisingly she agreed easily when you had suggested the idea, because she wanted to help out in the kitchens sometimes but she was banned from everything but the toaster for a reason the avengers called the pie incident but refused to speak further on when asked.

You glance back over at her to see how it’s going and although everything still is a mess it seems like she has managed to combine all the ingredients properly into a ball and is now kneading it. You step towards her and give her a hug from behind, not caring that flour was now getting all over you as well.

“Good job Tasha,” you whisper in her ear. You pull back and when you look at her face you see a slight hint of a blush. She rarely blushes but you always find it so cute when she does so you decide to make it your personal mission to get her to blush as much as possible today. She is just setting aside the dough to rise when the instructor speaks again.

“I see that most of you have already finished, or are just finishing up with your dough and setting it aside. From what I can tell it looks like everybody is doing well so far, however before we can continue everybody should make sure their workstation is clear.” As he says the last part he seems to look mostly at your workstation as well as the one diagonally in front of you, which are by far the two most messy.

Natasha starts clearing up the station while you brush as much flour as you can off of your clothes and wash your hands. As she continues to clear you grab a wet cloth and gently wipe down her face and arms to get rid of all the dough and flour. It takes awhile for the both of you and your workstation to be clear and once it is you realize everybody else is finished and waiting for you.

“Ok now that everybody is done,” this time he obviously glances your way, “we are going to prepare some of the toppings for later. This part shouldn’t be hard so just follow along with the recipe and ask for help if you need it.” Natasha picks up the recipe and you read over her shoulder.

“How about I help you with the topping but you do most of it?” You ask her. “We’ll both help cut up the peaches and make the balsamic sauce. This class is meant to be teaching you and not me after all.”

“Sounds good,” she replies while taking a peach and placing it on the cutting board. She starts to chop but she keeps slicing way too thick at the top and way too thin at the bottom. You giggle slightly and she narrows her eyes at you scowling and puts down the knife.

“I’m not laughing at you Nat, I promise.” You explain. “Well I am but can you blame me? You are a crazy good assassin that probably can kill me easily with that knife in many different ways yet you can’t cut a peach properly.”

“I still don’t see how that is funny.” She huffs but with a hint of a smile.

“I’m sorry, here let me help you.” You grab her hands and guide them into making steady cuts. When the first peach is fully cut up you step back again.

“Why don’t you try to do the next one on your own?” You suggest. She nods and starts to cut seeming a little unsure of herself. While it’s not perfect it’s much better than the first time so when she finishes you let out a small cheer and kiss her on the cheek. She gives a hesitant smile which you’ve learned means she feels good about herself but doesn’t know how to express it properly. You cut the rest of the peaches in silence, her slices gradually getting better.

“You’ve already improved so much!” You praise her, your heart melting when you see her smile and blush. “Why don’t you try the next part on your own?”

“Ok,” she answers, “I think I can do this part.” She starts mixing a few of the ingredients for the balsamic glaze and you, thinking she had it under control, start to glance around because you want to see how the others in the class are doing.

“Eeekk!” You hear Natasha squeal so you quickly look back over at her. The glaze is splashed all over the front of her and splattered all over the counter.

“What happened?” You ask, this time managing to only laugh inwardly as to not offend her.

“I thought if I mixed it as fast as I could the ingredients would combine faster,” she states, “but then this happened.”

You fight hard to keep your straight face, “Tasha, love, that’s not how cooking works.”

“Well I know that now.” She responds in an annoyed tone.

“I know and it’s okay, you can just redo it while I clean this up, does that sound good?” She nods and starts finding the ingredients she needs again while you take some paper towel and clear up the counter. Unfortunately you can’t do anything about the mess on Natasha’s shirt but luckily she purposefully wore a shirt she didn’t mind getting messy.

“Everybody should be just about done by now,” the instructor says, gathering the attention of the class, “Right now I want you to put flour on your counters and start to split your dough up to make the flat breads. Then you can put some topping on and pop them in the oven, make sure not to burn them.” The rest of the class immediately gets to work but before you or Natasha can start the instructor comes up to you.

“I’m sorry to bother you but I’ve noticed that you’ve been having some trouble, so don’t be afraid to ask for any help,” he says, “it is my job.” Natasha is obviously not pleased by what he said and scowls at him, opening her mouth to speak.

“Thank you, we will.” You say quickly before Natasha says something rude. He nods and turns away to go back to the front.

“I wasn’t doing that badly.” Natasha states.

“Don’t worry about it, let’s move onto the next step, why don’t you preheat the oven?” You respond to her, avoiding her statement because she really was doing ‘that badly’. She grabs the flour and opens it, this time making sure that she doesn’t get it all over, and then starts to put it on the counter. Meanwhile you get the dough and split it up into two pieces, one pizza for each of you.

“I’m going to be bad at this part.” She says with a small frown.

“No, no, no, don’t say that Tasha,” you rush to encourage her, “this part is the best part because it’s so fun, and it’s impossible to mess up!”

“If you say she.” She says doubtfully and you laugh. Both of you get to work, at first just playing with the dough in your hands to get a feel for it and after that using a rolling pin to flatten the dough. When you’re finished you take a step back to admire your work.

“Huh, it doesn’t look that bad.” Natasha decides.

“It looks amazing, I knew you could do it Tasha!” You exclaim while hugging her side and pressing a few quick, light kisses to the side of her neck.

“I mean it’s not a huge deal.” She blushes.

“Still, it’s pretty good,” you tell her, “but now we need to focus on putting our topping on.”

She giggles. “You say that like it’s something that requires a lot of thought.”

You gasp dramatically. “Ms. Romanoff, the presentation is the most important part of the dish, it requires a lot of attention to detail.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I forgot!” She plays along. “Why would the actual cooking part matter when you can focus on making them look good?”

“Exactly.” You tell her before both of you get to work, putting all the topping on the flatbread.

As much as you joked about it you tried to make yours look as good as possible and when you were done although it didn’t look perfect you were satisfied with how it looked. At least until you glanced over to see how Natasha did.

“How did you manage to make yours look like it should be in a cookbook?” You ask her, truly amazed by how pleasing it looks and not even knowing how she can make something as average as topping look like art. She just blushes and shrugs, pleased with herself but not wanting to admit it out loud.

“Anyways we should probably get them in the oven now because it looks like others are starting to.” You tell her.

“Of course, I’ll put them in!” She replies quickly, transferring the flatbreads onto two trays and shoving them in the oven. You lean over after she shuts the door and set the timer but when you look back at her and smile, you see she is standing by the sink with the water running over her hand.

“Tasha are you ok?” You ask, immediately rushing over to her.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just a small burn.” You examine her hand and it doesn’t look as small as most burns people get from cooking but then again Natasha gets injured all the time so this probably isn’t a big deal to her.

“Ok, but just make sure to take care of it.”

“I will don’t worry, I swear I’m the only one on the team who actually knows how to take care of themself sometimes. Remember the time Tony forgot to eat and collapsed?” You laugh at what she said. Although in the moment it was scary, in hindsight it was a funny story to tell.

The two of you keep bringing up old avengers moments and exchanging mission stories until you hear the timer beep. Everybody seems to have put their flatbreads in at the same time because there must be at least ten timers going off and it’s so loud you can’t even think. Luckily Natasha doesn’t seem to have the same problem because she grabs oven mitts this time so she doesn’t burn herself again and pulls the flatbreads out of the oven.

Her face falls when she sees them. The one on the top shelf, although somewhat crispy looking, seems fine but the one on the bottom shelf is practically black on the bottom.

“How did this happen?” She asks. You take a moment to think because the only way it could have happened was if Natasha had preheated the oven to the wrong temperature but you don’t want to discourage her.

“Well maybe you accidentally set the wrong temperature,” you tell her gently, deciding to be truthful, “it doesn’t matter though, because it still looks great!” She attempts a smile but looks thoroughly unconvinced. In order to try to make her feel better you grab the knife from earlier and cut a tiny piece off the edge. Your first instinct is to make a face when you put it in your mouth because it really does taste bad but you smile through that.

“See Tasha? It’s fine.”

“Y/n, it’s ok I know it’s bad and while I’m disappointed I’m not upset,” she says, “thank you for trying to cheer me up anyways.”

“Ok, fine I have to admit it was pretty burnt. But the other one looks good and besides I’m sure whatever we make next week will turn out better.” Her eyes widen and her mouth opens and you laugh at her.

“Next week? Y/n, we’re doing this again next week???”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow #y/n #x reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #reader insert

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zehecatl · 3 years

Text

rec post for @f-eef that got too long for its own good, and is now just. a general rec post i guess

(as of writing, today is the steam summer sale! writing this before that goes live, so no guarantee everything on here is on sale, but! most of these are older games, so it’s likely. keep them in mind~)

- Iconoclasts my absolute favourite game, ever (along with OFF, but shh), if you check out one game from this list, let it be this one. it’s a genuinely almost flawless package, with gorgeous pixel art, fun gameplay, a really good story, and a cast of characters i just. adore. it’s so so so good, and three years later, i’m still not over it

- The Binding of Isaac so there’s this genre called roguelikes, wherein the whole gimmick is that, when you die, you gotta start from the Very Beginning; and the ‘point’ is getting better and better at the game, until you win! it’s super easy to just, play a few runs (they generally don’t last that long!), and then go on with your day, so it’s a really fun game to just waste time in, if you just wanna chill with some game. and, in my personal opinion, Isaac is the best roguelike game, with so much stuff to unlock, a whole slew of items to play with, and so much content it’s kind of unreal. i definitely think the DLCs are worth picking up, but it’s mostly for more content than like. actually being necessary

- Terraria it’s minecraft, but 2D. unlike MC, it’s got a bit of guidance, which i personally prefer, with bosses to fight and such. an absolutely BLAST with other people too

- A Hat in Time a 3D platformer, ala Mario, that’s just. super charming. it’s also really fun to play. i haven’t actually played the DLC’s, since i played it way back, but i’ve heard good things about Nyakuza Metro, which does look super slick, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

- Slime Rancher you are a slime rancher. you ranch slimes. it’s honestly just wholesome as hell, and just exudes happy vibes. mostly for running around and collecting slimes, ngl

- The Messenger really funky retro game, wherein you play a ninja on a mission. it’s primary draw is definitely in its gameplay, but there’s a surprising amount of story for this kind of genre? i honestly really just like this one. it’s neat

- Underhero you play as a cute minion, who kind of like. managed to kill the hero. and whoops, guess you’re doing his job now? it’s got that undertale vibe, though i’d say it’s less polished than it. HOWEVER, it’s absolutely lovely and it’s climax is REALLY good

- Hatoful Boyfriend bird dating sim. trust me. the ‘secret’ finale route is just. *chef’s kiss* fantastic

- Night in the Woods if you don’t mind having a very poignant sad time, oh my god, i could not recommend NITW more. it perfectly captures that period when you’re done with school, and suddenly your whole life is stretching before you, and you feel so so fucking lost, and overwhelmed and pained with it. it’s just. so good. a sadness worth experiencing

- Shovel Knight another retro game! this one is, pretty much, the king of the genre, and for very good reasons. the first one (shovel of hope) doesn’t have much story, but the latter ones really add on it. they’re honestly just, really solid games! with funky knight characters!!!

- Hyper Light Drifter man, it’s just a masterpiece. everything about it is perfect. it’s been like, five years, and it’s still one of the very best indie games

- Tell Me Why it’s currently free for june! and it’s a story game! plus, if you like the genre, the devs got the ‘Life Is Strange’ serie(s) to delve into!

- Cat Quest honestly, i just really like this little game. the gameplay is SO much fun, and everything else is just. really charming :’)

- Yoku’s Island Express metroidvania, where you play as a dung-beetle post officer, and the gimmick is that it’s pinball-y! it’s really fun, and very cute and just an all around good time :)

- Owlboy you play as an owl boy! named Otus! and you can fly around, and there’s GORGEOUS pixel graphics, and a neat story, and just. the BEST cast of characters. it’s delightful

- Yuppie Psycho + Count Lucanor just gonna bundle these two together, because they’re both REALLY GOOD. YP is the newer one, and is therefore probably ‘the better one’, but i like them both a ton! they’re 2D horror, but i wouldn’t say they’re that spooky? though that might just be because they’re pixel games! you explore spooky place, and weird stuff happens around you. just a really fun time :)

- Angels of Death my FAVOURITE rpgmaker game, it’s main draw is, a 100%, the main characters and the relationship that develops between them. i just love it a whole lot, and it’s got that lil’ tinge of horror that i, personally, fucking adore. there’s actually an anime based on this, but i haven’t seen it myself!

- Celeste curve ball! it’s a 2D platformer! it’s really good, got a ton of accessibility features, and has like. the tightest gameplay- and, on top of that, surprisingly emotional story!

- Bastion putting Bastion here, because it’s actually the only one i’ve properly played, but you could probably buy any of the Supergiant Games, and come out satisfied. Bastion is the oldest of the bunch, and is definitely a bit less polished for it, but i personally adore it; the gameplay probably hasn’t aged that well, but i think the story and presentation more than makes up for it

- The Darkside Detective funny point and click adventure, with great wit, and a pair of characters i kind of simply adore. it’s main draw is definitely its humour

- Littlewood very wholesome and chill farming game, that feels more like an RPG than something like stardew valley- i’d not recommend it over SV, but if you want more of SV, Littlewood might scratch that itch!

- Pony Island + The Hex absolutely adore both of these, though if i had to rec only one, it’d probably be Pony Island? they’ve both got that undertale-off vibe, though Pony Island definitely leans harder into it. very interesting plays, both of them

- Oxenfree another horror-ish game! primarily story-focused, but oh boy, what a story! i’m a BIG fan of this game, and the sequel was recently announced too! definitely worth a look if you like ghost shenanigans

- Creature in the Well wasn’t a 100% sure if i should rec this, but beside the finale boss, i really enjoyed my time with this! it’s this weird pinball inspired hack and slash, with some amazing vibes

- Kindergarten 1 + 2 they’re just fun little games okay. the 2nd is much more fleshed out, but the 1st one is really fun too

- the Henry Stickmin collection I JUST... LIKE THESE GAMES A LOT... i think you can find the old versions somewhere on the internet, if you wanna check them out first? idk, they’re fun!

- LIMBO + INSIDE personally, i like INSIDE more, but both of these are classics, and also they’re made by a danish team, and i like them a WHOLE LOT

- The Final Station i could not tell you why i like this game as much as i do, but oh my god. i love this game? it’s got a dying world, neat pixel graphics, big zombie apocalypse vibes, and a weird little story

- Year Walk i love Year Walk :)

- Smile For Me if you liked undertale’s lovely cast of characters, oh boy, you’d likely LOVE this game! it’s really, really, fantastic, and the epilogue (not in the actual game lol) hit me right in the feels

- Pikuniku just a fun little game! there’s not really much there, in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a wonderful little play, one of those games that just sets out to give you a good time, and absolutely success. i like it a lot :’)

- A Short Hike wonderful game, where it’s more about exploring the island than actively finishing the game. it’s real wonderful

- ULTRAKILL ANOTHER CURVEBALL! no idea if you like FPS, but oh my god. ULTRAKILL is so fucking good. just an absolute blast to play. there’s a demo to check out, and i’d definitely recommend it, because if it’s a genre you might like, you’ll love this one (OH also it’s in early access, which means it’s not finished yet! personally, i don’t mind that, especially considering this is more gameplay focused, but ya’ know!)

- My Friend Pedro it’s honestly just really fun to play, and sometimes i still think about the implied lore, and go all !!!!

- Little Misfortune another point and click! this one is pretty short, and is set within the same universe as their other game, Fran Bow, which is much bigger, but idk. i like this one. it’s dark cute

- This Strange Realm of Mine i honestly dunno how to explain this one, because it’s kind of weird and a bit odd, but i really like it, in all its weird poetic glory. it’s neat!

- Donut County you’re a terrible racoon who’s ruined the whole city with holes. it’s great and i love it

- OneShot another ‘gives me undertale vibes’, though this one was in development before UT, if i recall correctly! it’s so good, and it’s got some fantastic meta bits, and i love Niko. i love Niko so much

- Inmost gorgeous vaguely spooky game with a neat story... my favourite genre

- Sayonara Wild Hearts i’d call this more of a spectacle than anything else, but oh my god. what a spectacle it is! the OST is amazing, everything about it just hits right, and even if you suck at the gameplay (which i did), it really doesn’t matter, in my opinion? it’s just great all around!

#ze.txt #the sale likely just went live so #steam sale #hope there's something here to your taste feef!#i honestly haven't been playing any 'real' games in. A WHILE? so all of these are older-ish #and there's a bunch of good new games out there!#but here's my little rec post of older games :')#that i have. actually played #i think inmost is the only one i never finished? plus TECHNICALLY oneshot since it got a BIG update after i played it but shhhh #also TECHNICALLY also ultrakill but that's in ea so it doesn't count okay #i just love ultrakill so much. i had to rec it. I HAD TO #also keep in mind some of these probably require a mouse!! i know ultrakill DEF does #but you might have one?? i usually play on my big pc so i. would not know #oh also DST does have a single player version which is very good also

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writing-gifts · 3 years

Text

datura (moth!bruno x butterfly!reader)

—–

A/N: anddd we’re back at the beginning, (but not really) well this is the last chapter and im pretty satisfied with it idk if I’m gonna make any after stories for this AU. I definitely have some ideas but I wanna work on non-datura related stuff for now

anyways thank you to everyone for sticking around. i’ve never written anything this long and this is the first time ive actually finished a multichapter fic too ^^

btw I made some art!

other than that, i hope you enjoy this chapter ❤

First Chapter || Previous Chapter

Reader is gender neutral!

—–

[Early Spring] - End

The sunlight warms you in a comforting embrace as you fly over the still fairly fresh flowers and grass. All the sludge and ice had finally melted and it wouldn't be long until the plants and foliage completely took its place.

Today was a perfect day for gathering and you made sure of your promise with Narancia and took him along with you. Carrying him and your now heavy satchels was tiring but you managed, and surprisingly Narancia wasn't squirming one bit. For all of the trip he kept still in your hold while keeping an arm wrapped around your neck.

"What's that one?" Narancia points to a cluster of white flowers. He had been curious about every new one he saw, but you were glad to answer all his questions.

"Lilacs. White ones can symbolize youthful innocence.”

"Hm, that's weird! Why do the flowers have meanings?"

“I'm not completely sure. Perhaps the flowers remind insects of certain memories that give them specific feelings….Or maybe they have stories attached to certain ones."

Narancia scratches at his head. It looks like you might have overwhelmed him.

"...How do you remember everything ____?

“To be honest, I’m not sure.”

Everything in relation to flowers seems to come natural to you, but you weren't sure you could pin it on you being a butterfly. Other butterflies and nectarivores you met didn't seem as invested as you.

"Wait what's that one?”

You chuckle, "I just told you, lilacs. These are just a different color."

"Oh right. Lilacs..."

While the bee repeats the name to himself, you notice your destination approaching and readjust him in your arms before speeding up.

"We’re here!" you exclaim and make your descent.

The two of you land in a small clearing near your home that you knew very well. You bend down to place Narancia on the ground but he doesn't let go, keeping his arms wrapped around your neck. Sighing, you return to your full height and continue carrying him. He wasn't really heavy but you'd been carrying him most of the day and your arms would appreciate a break.

“What is this place?” the bee asks.

"My friend's house. They really want to meet you and it's been awhile since my last visit."

“So like two gnats?”

The bee had heard you say it earlier today and you had a feeling that it would become more common in his vocabulary from now on.

You nod. "Yes--catching two gnats."

“Are they cool?”

You pause, not exactly sure what was considered cool to a 3 year old but you nod anyways. If cool meant whether he would like your friend or not then you were pretty sure Narancia would think they are.

Once you walk up to the front of Abilene's home you knock on the door, restraining yourself from doing it in the obnoxious way you usually would since Narancia is watching.

A few moments pass before the door opens revealing your friend.

"Good afternoon Abby!"

Their eyes widen and they gasp. "When did you get a kid ____!?”

Narancia giggles but you roll your eyes at your friend's terrible joke--if you could even call it that.

“This is Abilene Narancia but I call them Abby.”

Narancia waves and smiles at your friend. "Hi!"

“Aww! It’s so exciting getting to see you. Do you know how much ____ has talked about you since they’ve gotten back? I feel like they don’t even talk about Bruno that much.”

"Really?"

The bee looks like he couldn't quite believe it and you weren't sure if it was true either. All you knew is that you did tend to ramble about the bee and moth to anyone who would listen.

"Yep! I didn't think it was possible for them to talk about someone more than him.”

"Cause I'm cooler!" Narancia exclaims with a smug expression.

Is this another word he's deciding to favor in his vocabulary? You didn't see any reason to disagree though.

You hug the bee and press your cheek against his. "You are cooler but don't tell your father I said that."

Narancia glances at Abilene and grumbles before pushing your face away. "Cool people don't do that," he huffs

You gawk at the idea of that but then notice your friend is smiling goofily at you.

"What?" you ask.

"You guys are so cute!"

Before you can reply though Abilene continues.

"Anyways you wanna come in? I still have leftover nectar from Fall if you want any."

Narancia nods enthusiastically like he hasn't been drinking nectar and eating pollen the whole day, and asks--demands you put him down.

The moment his feet are on the ground he immediately runs into the house.

"You don't even know where the nectar is!" You yell down the hallway, but the bee is either too far to hear or doesn't care.

Crossing your arms, you shake your head. "How do you have so much energy?"

Abilene snorts. "I know you of all insects aren’t saying that."

Your mouth opens before immediately shutting again. They unfortunately had a point.

"Whatever Abby."

You ignore the grin on your friend's face and follow after Narancia. "We better hurry before Narancia knocks something over."

That has the grasshopper’s smile falling and they quickly follow after you.

After having your fill of nectar, you didn’t intend to stay too long but you’ve always struggled with keeping track of time when visiting Abilene. So when you and Narancia are finally getting ready to leave, you're not too surprised that the sun has moved a great distance from the middle of the sky.

You stand there for a moment. The orange tinted sky has you feeling like you forgot something important.

"….Fuck I forgot my lantern."

You flinch when you realize what you've just said and snap your gaze towards Narancia.

"Forget you heard that word!"

The bee tilts his head. "Why?"

"Cause it's a bad word."

"Why’s it a bad word?"

Oh god.

Abilene laughs at you and your brows furrow.

"Well good luck getting him to stop saying that word. See you later and bye bye to you Narancia!”

The bee goes crossed eyed momentarily when Abilene boops his nose and once he says his goodbye, you pick him up.

You sigh. "Bye Abby..." You were not looking forward to the lecture you would have to give Narancia on the way back.

Either way you high tail it home with a willful bee in your arms and your satchel weighing you down, and by the time you're back you're physically and mentally exhausted.

You let out a cheer once you're on the ground and immediately place Narancia down before putting your hands on your knees.

"Whew….we made it...back in….time."

You can barely get the sentence out through your labored breathing.

"Do you need a seat mio amor?"

You look up and see your mate along with Abbacchio sitting at a small table in front of the house.

Narancia makes a beeline towards the two and you worry for a second that he's going to jump onto Abbacchio, but he runs to his father and climbs onto his lap.

"N-Nah I'm….good,” you reply.

"Are you sure cause you look half-dead," Abbacchio says.

"...Thanks?"

Once you catch your breath, you make your way towards the table and notice the half-finished drink sitting in front of Bruno.

"Don't mind if I do!"

Before he can even respond you've downed the rest of his drink.

Abbacchio grimaces in disgust when he sees Bruno, for some reason, staring at you with an expression that can only be described as smitten.

"The two of you are disgusting."

You pout at the wasp as he takes a sip of his drink. "It's not that big of a deal for couples to share cups…right?"

"That's not what I'm talking about."

You expect him to further explain but he doesn't.

"Why are you so tired anyways?" Bruno asks, seemingly unbothered by Abbacchio's statement.

"We left Abby's house too late and then I might have gotten lost--You know it's hard to see with all these trees right?"

"Yes, that's why I said bring a lantern."

You laugh awkwardly. "Yeaaah I forgot...that's why I was speeding here in the first place."

Abbacchio shakes his head, definitely not impressed with your carelessness.

Narancia places his small hands on his father's face and squishes his cheeks together to get his attention.

"Papa you shoulda went! It was so fun and we went to Abby's house!”

When Bruno tries to reply the words come out muffled. "I'm sure it was, maybe next time--"

“Did you know lilacs meant innocence, youthful innocence?”

"No, did ____ teach you?"

"Yep! How do they remember it all?"

Narancia continues to excitedly ramble on--some of his words blending into one another--about everything he did today to Bruno and Abbacchio. But with the sun quickly heading towards the horizon you don't get to spend much more time outside. You talk a little with Abbacchio, but after that he needs to depart.

You exchange your goodbyes and once the three of you see the light of his lantern fade in the distance between the trees, you all head inside. You immediately drop your satchels by the door, and before Bruno can follow Narancia into the kitchen you stop him.

"Can I stay here tonight?" you ask.

Bruno tilts his head, confused. "You don't need to ask that you know.”

“I guess that’s true, but it's still nice to though.”

"Well, just know you're always welcome in my home ____."

You look off to the side and fail to push down your smile.

“Ugh don't be such a sap," you say, however these words are aimed more at yourself.

The moth places a kiss on your cheek before smiling himself. "I can't help it. It was only a week and I missed you the whole time…"

"I-I missed you too."

You look back at the moth and then pull him into a hug, squeezing him tight. It takes you a while to realize how hard you’re hugging him but when you do, you let go.

“Oops sorry.”

Instead of letting go like you expected, Bruno keeps his arms in place so you bring yours back around him.

“You can squeeze me as hard as you like ____.”

You laugh in response but take him up on his offer. “You’re so weird.”

-----

You walk alongside Bruno, your hand in his. The two of you were heading to Ilya's to show off the moth's outfit, specifically his lace shirt.

Even though Bruno tried to reassure you, you were quite anxious. What you made was nowhere near Ilya’s work and showing off results for something that you were new at always made you tense. But at the same time the spider had only been supportive as he taught you, so at least that had managed to calm some of your nerves.

When the two of you stop in front of the spider's shop, you squeeze Bruno’s hand to get his attention.

“Uh just a head’s up, Ilya can get a little excited sometimes. So if he says anything...weird don’t take it too seriously okay?”

He nods in understanding and you let out a giant exhale before opening the shop’s door.

"Well...after you," you tell the moth.

"Thank you."

Even though the two of you have been together for some time now you still feel that strange fluttering in your stomach sometimes when he smiles at you. And his outfit definitely wasn't helping.

You follow in after him and gently shut the door behind you.

“Ilya, are you here?” you call out.

“____ just give me a moment! I'll be right there!"

You feel your anxiety increasing the longer it takes for him to come out, but finally he walks down the stairs and into the room.

“____! How was your Winter? Anything interesting happen?”

“It was great and yes! Look!” Your outstretched hands direct the spider’s attention to your mate. "Tada!"

"You….found someone?” The spider tilts his head. “Wait is this--"

Your eyes go wide and you shake your head fast. "Not that!"

Ilya’s looks caught off guard by your outburst. You hadn’t meant to be that loud but didn’t need anything you may have said about Bruno in a moment of vulnerability to be brought up.

You clear your throat ignoring Bruno's confused expression. "I mean...it is. This is Bruno my... mate.”

The spider is doing his best to hold back but the excitement shows clearly on his face. His expression kind of reminds you of Abilene's when you had revealed the same news to them.

“Anyways, I was actually talking about his shirt.”

Once the spider’s attention is led there, he inhales sharply and gets closer to Bruno to get a better look. Fortunately the moth doesn't seem to mind.

"You made this?" Ilya asks.

"Yea...what do you think?”

He smiles wide. "You finished it that fast!?” He circles around the moth. “Amazing! It's hard to believe it's your first full piece and I can see you’re improving quickly...I'm very impressed!"

You struggle to grasp for the right words overwhelmed by the praise but at least manage to get out a "thank you".

“You're welcome! I honestly feel proud of you."

The spider places a finger on his cheek and goes quiet for some reason.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"….Have you ever wanted to run a shop ____? I've always liked the idea of having someone run this one with me. I'd compensate you for your time of course."

You stutter and have to stop yourself so you can speak clearly.

"Uhh...I don't really know."

You weren't completely against the idea, but it seemed too big of a responsibility to accept without thought.

When Bruno sees you struggling he speaks up. “You don't have to decide right away but I do think you'd do a nice job here amore.”

Ilya’s eyes twinkle when he sees the small, bashful smile on your face. "Aww, you're his amore."

You throw a glare at the spider and try your best to keep the embarrassment out of your voice. "I should think about it more first, but it does sound nice."

Making lace could feel tedious at times but you mostly found it relaxing. And with the help of Ilya's fancy lace-making tool the process would definitely go faster. You would also be able to do more complicated patterns.

"Well there's no time limit and you can join me whenever you want. Even just to hang out!"

Before you and Bruno leave Ilya gifts you with many spools of strings of various colors and pinches your cheeks.

"Ouch--your claws be careful with those things!"

You swat his hands away and rub at your face.

"Whoops, got too excited!"

He laughs a bit as you stare, slightly annoyed.

He leans a bit closer to you before speaking quietly. "I should be careful before I make your mate upset…"

You raise your brow and turn your head slightly to get a look at Bruno. He didn't seem upset to you though. Perhaps a little less relaxed, but nothing more. You shrug at the spider and grab the bag of stuff he gifted you.

"Well I'll see you around," you tell the spider before walking towards your mate.

IIya waves. "Bye bye!"

Bruno gently grabs your hand and you both exit the shop.

"I guess you were right about Ilya," Bruno says.

"Huh? Of course I was. I already told you he could have eaten me if he wanted to by now."

The moth looks disturbed so you try to backtrack.

"Sorry. It is pretty gross to think about."

"It's not necessarily that. It's just...upsetting."

"Yea, that makes sense."

And of course that has your thoughts trying to wander to a darker path. It wasn't exactly rare for insects to be eaten or go missing but--

No. Today was a good day and thinking about scary things happening to anyone you cared about wasn't what you needed right now.

You feel Bruno squeeze your hand softy. "____?"

"Huh? Oh sorry, zoned out.” You gently swing Bruno's arm along with yours. “Well now that visiting Ilya's outta the way let's go to Mrs. Joestar's next. I wanna see if she has anything new.”

----

"Narancia don't touch that."

The bee's hand stops an inch away from the colorful canister you left sitting on the table in front of your daybed.

He pouts at his father. "I was jus' looking…"

"Sure you were."

You shake your head. "It's fine Bruno. I'm pretty sure it's empty anyways."

You move near the table to pick up the canister but end up accidentally knocking it over yourself when you reach to grab it.

Childish giggles fill the air which brings a sheepish smile to your face.

"I guess you should be more worried about me dropping things."

Narancia picks up the canister and hands it to you. You thank him and then shake it slightly not feeling anything as expected. Yesterday, you had filled this one with nectar from a new flower you found and didn't hold back one bit when you returned home.

You return the canister to the bee who gladly accepts it and then show your guests where they'll be sleeping later tonight. This was the first time the spare bedroom would be utilized by someone other than Abby.

After that's settled, you all spend your time lazing around. The three of you didn't necessarily plan any activities and just wanted to be in the same home. So most of the day you all do your own thing. Sometimes you or Bruno would play with Narancia or bother one another just because.

But as the day comes to an end, you all sit in relative silence in the main room. You lean against Bruno on the daybed switching between reading bits and pieces of the book he currently had open and watching Narancia.

The bee sat at the table in front of your lantern drawing something you'd never seen in your life. It looked similar to a bird but not exactly. Instead of 2 eyes it had many lined in a straight line across its side.

You bring your cup to your mouth. Maybe he would pursue art one day.

Suddenly, Narancia's face scrunches up and you're going to ask what's wrong when he breaks the peaceful silence.

"Fuck!"

You sputter on your drink.

Bruno’s attention is taken from his book and he turns his gaze to his son. "…What was that?"

Narancia's eyes widen at Bruno's disapproving tone. "Uhh..."

You cough to clear your throat before speaking up. "I may have cursed in front of Narancia, so it's totally my fault. Don't get mad at him please..."

"Hm, I see. Narancia don't say that word," Bruno says.

"But how come you guys can?"

"Cause we are adults and you are a child. When you are no longer a child then you can curse all you want."

"That's dumb…"

"Perhaps, but that’s how it is."

Even though you find the exchange amusing, you still feel guilty. This conversation wouldn't be happening if you watched your tongue in the first place.

You jump in to help Bruno. "Maybe you're right but it's not language appropriate for kids and you'll make others upset."

"What others?"

"Me and your father but also...uh the general public?”

The bee purses his lips at this and thinks on it for an unnecessary amount of time.

"….Fine."

Bruno gives a nod in approval and returns to his novel.

However you let out a sigh of relief and reach over to ruffle Narancia’s hair. “I'll make a whole cake just for you in the summer!”

He gasps. "Make it two and I'll never curse again!"

"Ha! Don't be ridiculous," you say amused.

Narancia sticks out his tongue and goes back to his drawing.

You go back to leaning against Bruno's side, resting your eyes while you finish your drink...

For some reason you and your mate were now walking through the middle of a beautiful forest holding hands, but things were kind of strange. Bruno was a butterfly and you were a moth...and you weren't even in your body.

The scene comes to an abrupt stop when you feel something gently stroking your cheek.

"Hrrmm….why?" You force your eyes open and Bruno's in front of your face with his hand on your cheek.

"It's time for bed mio amor."

"Mm...when did I fall asleep? Where's Narancia?"

The bee and his drawing was nowhere to be seen.

“Some time ago--you almost spilt your drink--and I already put Narancia to bed.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position on the daybed, rub at your eyes and stretch. Then you quickly make your way to your room. You want to get into bed and cuddle up to Bruno as soon as possible.

It doesn't take long for you to ready yourself, changing into something a little more comfortable. And you crawl into bed and get under the covers. All you need now is a warm fluffy moth next to you but someone was taking their sweet time letting down their hair. So instead you watch your moth get ready, your eyes drifting to his clothing.

At this point you were used to him wearing clothes more often. You loved it. He had various outfits that looked great on him. But maybe at the same time, you missed seeing him walk around without them…

“Enjoying the view?”

You hadn’t realized you were particularly staring a hole through Bruno's bare torso until he called you out.

"N--No! ....I don't know."

Bruno's stupid cocky grin makes you turn away.

After that it’s quiet again while you stare at nothing in particular. You do hear cloth shifting and assume he's removing his pants.

"…..Hey sorry about the cursing thing again."

Bruno hadn’t seemed too bothered by it but you wanted to make sure.

"It's okay. I was just worried I'd have to get Narancia to understand for the next several days."

"Well okay that's good I guess? I mean, not the cursing. That shouldn't have happened."

Bruno's suddenly quiet and you look over at him.

"____, it really was a harmless mistake….And you're not the only one who cursed in front of Narancia."

"Really? What happened?"

The moth smiles and actually looks slightly ashamed.

"I accidentally dropped his food, and it happened around the time he started speaking. He wouldn't stop saying 'shit' days after that."

You immediately laugh at the idea of Bruno having to deal with that. But one thing sticks out to you the most.

"You dropped something?"

"Maybe I was tired that day. Who knows."

You laugh again and hold out your arms to indicate you want a hug, which prompts Bruno to finish getting ready quicker.

Once he’s done he climbs into bed with you before wrapping his arms around you. But before the two of you can even fully relax you hear the pitter pat of small feet quickly approaching your room.

"Is it safe to come in?" the bee yells from outside the room.

Bruno sighs a bit when you make the "appropriate" amount of space between you and him and sit up in bed.

"It's safe!" you reply.

Narancia peeks inside cautiously before coming in.

"I wanna sleep here," he says.

"Wouldn't it be nicer to have a bed to yourself?"

The bee huffs at Bruno. "But I want to be here with ____ though!"

The moth stays quiet but you can feel some exasperation coming off him.

"How bout this…."

Narancia stops pouting and looks at you.

"You can stay for one story but afterwards you have to go straight to your bed. I'll even tell it."

Narancia hums in thought.

"This is your only other option," Bruno adds.

"Okay!" Narancia decides.

He runs towards the bed and jumps up onto it.

"Lets go, lets go!"

“Hold on I gotta pick something off the bookshelf first.”

While you search the small bookshelf you keep in the corner of your room, Bruno picks up Narancia and places him on his lap to prevent him from jumping on the bed.

Bruno looks down at the bee. "Remember you came here to sleep."

Narancia grumbles but relaxes against him.

You try to find anything child friendly and interesting to read. And by the time you're on the bottom shelf the spine of one catches your attention. A line of illustrations had been drawn along it in such a way that made it look like a frog was jumping. You forgot you even had this.

You grimace a bit but take the book anyways. Frogs were major enemies in this story but you found the story still worth reading.

You observe the cover of the worn, auburn book. The Firefly Prince was scrawled in gold cursive on the front and a simple illustration of a cute firefly sat under it. It was an adventure story that any age group could enjoy so you decide on it. You return to your bed and make yourself comfortable next to Bruno and Narancia.

"We are reading The Firefly Prince."

"I've never heard of that." Narancia says.

You clear your throat. "Well you're about to..."

“In a small kingdom ruled by and for fireflies. There was a prince who was the youngest and the oddest of all his siblings…."

Even though the bee was so energetic a moment ago you can already tell that he's getting sleepy.

“Already falling asleep?” Bruno asks.

The bee turns onto his side, resting on Brunos chest.

"Nooo I'm listenin'..."

“Okay, okay quiet down you guys…” you say.

Bruno smiles at you and you give him your own in return before continuing the story.

#bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno x reader #jjba #i feel like whenever i try to end a story it doesnt feel like it ended lol #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #reader insert #my writing #jjba x reader #the electricity said let me go out for 2 hours when i was trying to post this

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jessbakescakes · 3 years

Note

“I’m fine with where I am now.” Thanks!!!

“I’m fine with where I am now.” from this post.

My fluffy tendencies are back, post-series on this one! (This one also got long, OH WELL.)

March 2012

It’s strangely quiet when Donna walks through the door. Depending on what time she comes home, there’s usually some combination of incessant chatter and TV background noise that fills the house. But she can’t hear anything tonight, even as she kicks off her heels and walks toward the living room.

It all makes sense when she finds Josh, asleep on the couch with Caroline tucked under his arm. There’s a stack of books on the coffee table, indicating that a request for more bedtime stories was likely granted. Donna kneels down next to the couch, moving Caroline’s stuffed unicorn out of the way, and presses a soft kiss to Josh’s forehead.

He opens his eyes, stirring just a little, and grins at her as he stretches his free arm. “You’re home early,” he whispers.

“More like you two are up late,” Donna teases. “Well, one of you at least. It’s almost midnight.”

“It couldn’t have been any later than eight when we sat down,” Josh says, stifling a yawn.

“Nora go down okay?”

“Yeah, no problems,” Josh confirms.

Donna gently extricates Caroline from under Josh’s arm, careful not to wake her. “I’ll go put her to bed,” she says, carefully standing and grabbing the unicorn on the way up. She walks Caroline to her room, expertly tucking her in without so much as stirring her. Donna turns around to find Josh leaning in the doorway, watching. She walks toward him and gently pats him on the chest in an attempt to get him to move out of the way so she can shut the door.

Josh leans forward and gives her a kiss, slow and sweet, before abandoning his post. “I had to do that first,” he says once the door is closed. “How was the thing?”

Donna rolls her eyes. “The usual. Spent too much time talking to people who weren’t going to give us what we wanted.”

“Did you try Parker and Sullivan?” He puts his hand at the small of her back and guides her toward the kitchen, pulling out a stool at the breakfast nook for her.

She nods, taking a seat. “You were right on Parker. She and I worked really well together. I can’t tell if Sullivan hates me, but... actually, I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

Josh laughs. “He hates everyone. He does, however, begrudgingly show respect when it is earned. And you, Donnatella Moss, will earn it. I made honey lemon chicken tonight, do you want some?”

“That sounds amazing,” Donna says. “I’m starving. They only had crappy appetizers and by the time I got to eat any, they were mostly picked over. The girls ate that?”

“They did. The vegetables were a bit of a negotiation, but I managed to get Caroline to agree to eat all of her carrots. Nora just picked at all of it.”

Donna listens as Josh recounts the events of the day, preparing some leftovers for Donna as he talks. Sometimes when she gets home he launches right into a recap of what went on while she was gone, presumably eager for adult conversation. It’s Donna’s favorite part of the day. She has always loved the political side of Josh, loved watching him deal with recalcitrant congressmen or rub elbows with heads of state. But it’s possible that she loves the domestic side of him just a little more, listening to him recall a funny conversation he had with Caroline or watching him put another piece of Nora's crayon scribble art on the fridge.

Josh slides the plate over to her, then moves to fill a glass of water. “So I got a phone call today from Sally Doyle from the D-triple-C.”

“Yeah?” Donna asks, accepting the plate.

“She called to ask if I’d thought about getting back into the game. Wanted me to run for the open seat in the Massachusetts 7th.”

“That’s Boston, isn’t it?” Donna asks.

Josh nods. “She was telling me all of the NGOs you could work for if we moved. She’d found the best school districts and everything. She was surprisingly prepared for most objections I had.”

“I always got the impression that you weren’t interested in running for office,” Donna says before taking a bite of chicken.

“I’m not. I turned her down. Then she asked if I’d help them find a replacement.”

Donna takes a sip of water. “What did you tell her?”

Josh raises his eyebrows at her as if to indicate that the answer should have been obvious. “I told her no. I’m not getting back in it.”

“Josh,” Donna starts.

“No, seriously. I’m done, Donna. I like the adjunct gig, I like being home with the girls. I like seeing you every day. I’ll never say never, but for now, I’m done.”

Donna smiles. “If it was something you wanted, we would have made it work.”

“I know.”

“I’m not the only one with a career here,” she continues, waving the fork as she talks. “If you want to do something…”

“Donna,” Josh cuts her off with a laugh. “I’m fine with where I am now. Seriously.”

She looks at him, studying his expression for any hint of doubt or hesitation that he’s not sharing with her, but finds none. From what she’s able to tell, he’s completely sincere, and it makes her heart feel like it’s going to burst out of her chest. Josh Lyman -- the man who was sending her outside with his coat and a cell phone to bully a vote out of some Hartsfield's Landing residents around this time ten years ago, the man who once regularly sparred with senators to further President Bartlet’s agenda -- is satisfied with being a primary caregiver to their children and teaching one night class a week at Georgetown.

“Come here,” she says, leaning across the counter for a kiss. Josh moves toward her, and she drops her fork to gently cup her hands on either side of his face, deepening the kiss just a little.

When she pulls away, he’s grinning. “What was that for?” he asks.

“Everything,” she says. “All of it. What you said, what you’ve done, for me, for us, for our family. Sometimes I can’t believe this is our life, you know?”

He steals the fork she abandoned and takes the bite of food still on it. “I know,” he says with a mouthful of chicken and a smirk. He returns the fork and walks around her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder as he passes. “I’m going upstairs.”

“That an invitation?” Donna asks, turning around on the stool to watch him as he moves out of the kitchen.

“Finish your food and come find out,” he teases, heading up the stairs.

He’s asleep by the time she finishes eating and getting ready for bed, a few pillows propped behind his back in an attempt to keep him awake and upright. She turns off the lamp on his bedside table, then works to remove the pillows from behind his back. “Josh,” she whispers. “That can’t be comfortable. Get in bed.”

He opens his mouth, presumably to either protest or to apologize, but she moves to her side of the bed and pulls back the covers, trying to yank them out from underneath him. “Get in,” she repeats, cutting him off before he can argue.

Josh does as he’s asked, lifting his arm so she can lay her head on his chest and curl up against him. He presses a kiss to her hair, and soon she hears him snoring softly.

#josh x donna #my fics #hufflepuffhermione

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

Could I get number 30 "Why is arson always your first answer?" With winteriron?

England wasn’t necessarily Tony’s favorite place to be. For one thing, Pepper always asked for some sort of collection of Burberry scarves, and Tony would rather die than step foot in a store, but Pepper is the one who makes sure he gets out of countries and into countries as discreetly as possible.

For another, England usually means either expensive art or expensive jewelry, and art is a bitch to get out of an event if you haven’t worked up a back story for the last year, and jewelry is...well. People are bound to notice if it’s famous enough.

This go-round, it’s art. A rare miniature of a high-society woman, someone Tony doesn’t at all care about. He has a buyer from the middle of nowhere Montana, and he’s not sure why a cowboy from Montana cares about this so much, but he offered a pretty steep salary for Tony, so here he is.

The thing is this: Tony Stark is not known as a thief. No. He is known as a reclusive billionaire who only comes out of his house, like, once a year to mourn his parents.

Except he doesn’t do that, that’s just the yearly walk that he lets them notice and take pictures of.

Anthony Carbonell is known as an elusive thief who likes to make fun of every single agent of any organization that attempts to track him or the works that he’s stolen. It’s cute, honestly.

Agent James Barnes is the newest hire at SHIELD Protection, which moonlights as an insurance agency.

His newest job is one that no one else has managed to complete: capture Anthony Carbonell, and protect the newest artwork.

It’s sending him to England. He has to wear a suit and everything, and he’s not exactly excited about it.

All they know is that he’s dark-haired, is shorter than six feet, and has a penchant for playing practical jokes on the agents when they end up not capturing him.

Barnes touches down in England, follows one of their British agents to a safe-house, and gets out the tuxedo.

God help this night.

Tony usually isn’t thrown for a loop when it comes to guests at high society auctions. Most everyone is publicly known, or at least known when they should be known.

There’s a new man in town.

Tony can’t deny that he has the nicest looks he’s ever seen. A jaw that won’t quit, eyes that seem to observe everything, and a tasteful bun drawn at the back of his head. He also fills out a tuxedo quite nicely.

Something about him screams danger. Tony smiles to himself in his cocktail; he’ll keep his eyes on that man, so far as everything goes to plan.

Bucky can feel eyes on him, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s technically new to all of this, or if it’s because Anthony is here and he already knows.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew as soon as he walked in that Anthony would be here, and he would be aware. But he’s not really going to focus on the people milling about. He sticks close to the miniature, observing the security measures.

Or lack of.

The security measures are barely there. If Bucky could cause a distraction in the room, or maybe pull a fire alarm, he could easily abscond with it.

He assumes that’s why the band is in another room. He had read the reports that Clint had managed to nick; the band was supposed to be playing in the room, but an anonymous guest had suggested that the acoustics were better in a room adjacent.

He’s pretty sure that Anthony had recommended that, wherever he was. It’s not like any of the rich people would have had common sense enough to call ahead and ask about the placement of the band, and take into account the arch of the room with the acoustics of a violin.

It’s smart, honestly. Everyone is dancing, they want to notice what other people are wearing so that they can either discreetly copy them later or make a laughing stock of them in about six minutes, give or take, and no one will notice if someone who wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place slips out.

He’s not exactly wrong.

But Tony has been working for an exclusive catering company for two months. Very fun stuff. He learned that he will never want to eat another crab cake again, and he learned how to improvise descriptions for food that is essentially chicken fingers and ketchup.

Barnes is looking for someone who looks like they fit in. And Tony does, just...not in the way that he actually knows how to do.

If he was high society, he’d be recognized immediately; everyone still knows how Howard smiled, how Maria moved around the room with the practiced grace of someone raised to be a fun little accessory on your arm.

Tony has both of those attributes, and if people actually noticed others, they would clock him easily.

He got bold.

Too bold.

He was serving appetizers, and he offers one to the new guy on the block.

“Care for one?” he asks, eyes timidly looking up, energy nervous.

“Thank you,” New Guy says, and he looks at Tony directly in the eyes. “I appreciate it.”

No one thanks you at events like these.

And no one looks at you.

This was the mistake.

His features are umistakable, Bucky decides. The way his head tilted when he offered the food, the way his eyes look at his, and they’re not used to being looked back at.

It almost fooled him. Almost.

But most who work for the upper class learn early on from someone or another that you don’t look, even if you know that they won’t spare you the time of day.

He’s tempting the odds, and he’s exactly the kind of person who would do it.

Bucky has Anthony Carbonell’s face memorized, from the surprisingly warm brown eyes to the way he walks away.

Tony has blown this mission. He knows it. He fucking knows that SHIELD knows who he is right now.

He texts Pepper, incorrect grammar and everything:

tell guy job is over. i can refund him for inconvenience.

what do you mean, over?

been had. :(

i don’t like that that’s your reaction. but get out of there, whatever means necessary. i can’t get you out of there until tomorrow morning, or i lose the deposit on your room .

srsly???????

yes, seriously. the woman who let us rent it was very specific about two-day-stay. in the mean time, maybe grab a bottle of wine or something. how are you going to escape?

well...

don’t you dare

Arson is an art that has to be carefully done, if you were wondering. You can just decide to do it, but you need to have some experience for it.

Tony has. Kind of.

He has a matchbook from a local hotel that he went into, and it’s been tucked into a pocket of his pants, and he is currently debating if he can actually finish the job or not.

“Is arson always your first answer?”

Shit.

“Uh, smoke break?” Tony asks, knowing that it’s a Very Stupid Excuse because he doesn’t have any cigarettes.

“Be real with yourself,” Barnes says. “You also have a very unfortunate British accent, as in it sounds terrible.”

“My apologies if I didn’t work on it,” Tony says. “I’ve been too busy with...other things. Speaking of which, you’re new to SHIELD, aren’t you?”

“You’re my first mission.”

“How unfortunate.”

“And why is that?”

Tony smiles at him, and it’s disarming how genuine it looks. How genuine it is. (Bucky’s been able to spot a fake smile since he was seven and his mother let Mormons into their house. He knows a lot of things.)

“Well, darling dearest, I’m going to make my escape.”

“And you’re saying I can’t find you?”

“Oh, you’ll find me. You’ll see me everywhere.”

Tony then proceeds to kiss the ever-living hell out of Barnes.

It is probably the best kiss of his life, honestly.

And it leaves him dazed.

Dazed enough that Tony only has a light jogging-pace as he makes his escape, stealing one of the various Rolls Royce cars that is parked underneath a brilliantly-lit lamp.

Bucky keeps thinking about that line, about seeing him everywhere.

He doesn’t know what it means. He describes Anthony Carbonell to a sketch artist, they ask around, and then there’s Friday.

Friday.

It’s the day everything becomes clearer and yet infinitely more complicated, because Anthony was right.

Tony Stark is dedicated to a more “transparent’ image for his company. He’s stepped into the limelight, and all the attention is on him. Everyone in the world is stalking his every move.

It’s smart. Bold and risky if any former clients have seen his face, although Bucky has no doubt that he has enough money to make sure they go away quietly.

It means that he can’t be touched. For at least one year, maybe two.

God, it’s smart. Be so well-known that even the secret agencies would be found if they even attempted to reach you.

Pepper thinks Tony is God’s Given Idiot.

Arson probably would have been the better choice. It’s not like the building didn’t have insurance, and it’s not like the fire would have lasted for that long.

Instead, Tony has decided to make himself internationally known and request a meeting with the guy who could have ended his career, and still could if he talked to the right people.

Sam thinks knows that Bucky is God’s Given Idiot.

He agrees to the fucking meeting.

It’s a well-known, public restaurant. It means that Barnes is going to be well-known, or at least photographed from an angle that’s unflattering.

He should’ve debated, should have fought for a secluded place, or at least somewhere on their turf. God, that would’ve been an iota smarter.

They both sit down. Peruse a menu that neither are interested in.

Bucky is wondering what the procedure is on leftovers. And if he’s paying for his own bill in this. He was invited, but with everything going on, he’s not sure.

Tony sits across from him. Tony, with a now-distinctive goatee, an easy elegance, and a satisfied look in his eyes.

“You amaze me, James.”

“Bucky.”

“I refuse to call you that out of respect for humanity.”

“I don’t answer to James.”

“Then what about another nickname, hm?” Tony asks.

“Like what?”

“Take your pick. You could be honey, darling, or love. Or something more creative, although if it’s kinky, I’d like it in writing before I refer to you in public with that, so-”

“James is fine.”

“Knew it would be,” Tony says smugly. “So. Let’s talk about the fact that you know my dirty little secret.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘little’, would you?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Rich people steal shit as a hobby?”

“Usually not with my methods, but yes,” Tony says. “They usually do it with the careful guidance of the IRS or some shit.”

Bucky does a little laugh at that one.

Their waiter comes out, jovially asks how their day is going.

“Oh it’s going magnificently,” Tony says, peering up through violet-tinted glasses. “How is yours...Lincoln?”

“Brilliant,” Lincoln responds with a large smile. “What can I get you to drink? Our seasonal cocktail is to die for, and if you’re not in the mood for a cocktail, the cider is simply divine...”

It’s mundane conversation.

Tony Stark is a thief who goes by (went by?) Anthony Carbonell, and he’s listening to Lincoln the Waiter talk about seasonal drinks and desserts.

It’s kind of...grounding. Also odd.

“And for you?”

Bucky fumbles with the menu.

“Uh...water? With lemon?”

“Refreshingly good choice,” Lincoln says, grinning. “I’ll be right back with those, you two catch up on whatever you need to catch up.”

Bucky nods, turning to Tony with an eyebrow raised.

“So, what do we need to catch up on?”

“Well for one, you need to use my name. It’s Tony, and I’m betting it sounds heavenly coming from you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen a fraction.

“Alright. Tony. What do you need to talk about?”

“Keeping our little secret a secret.”

“I’ve already told others about you.”

“Who?” Tony asks sharply.

Lincoln comes back with their drinks, asks if they need more time to decide.

Bucky just goes for it and orders a plate of mini quiche-things that he’s not exactly sure he’ll like. Tony orders something with a perfect accent, because of course he does.

“You do this often?”

“Go out to eat? On special occasions, and every other Friday.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Tony says, unfolding his napkin. “But I...have a deal for you.”

“And why should I take it?”

“Because it’s going to benefit SHIELD in the long-run,” Tony says. “And they’re all about benefits, if the rumors hold up against them.”

“And what rumors have you heard?”

“I’ve heard plenty, although I seem to recall one about a flooded pipeline and a Broadway performance being improvised.”

Bucky shakes his head.

“Not true? Damn...”

Tony looks around the restaurant before his eyes meet with the captivating ones across the table.

“I have a secret identity. So do you.”

“And we’re against each other, aren’t we?”

“Only sometimes,” Tony says. “I essentially steal shit because it’s either random or has a purpose.”

“And the miniature job you pulled was what, part of a scheme?”

“Hell no,” Tony says. “A farmer in Montana wanted to see if I could do it because the face vaguely reminded him of his great-grandmother. I also, as a principle, try to steal as much shit from England as possible.”

That’s funny, so he laughs.

“And what do you want from me?” Bucky asks.

“Oh my darling dearest, I want a lot of things from you,” Tony leers. “I only want one thing from SHIELD. I want them to keep my identity secret without any strings attached.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, it is what it is,” Bucky says. “I’m not gonna get you what you want, but I think you knew that. That’s why I’m out here dining with you, and I’ll be in the magazines for what, about a week?”

“And notoriety for all time,” Tony says. “Your face is known, or at least on the internet. You should be prepared for people to ask you to model, by the way. God knows that you could kill it on the runway.”

Bucky is amused.

“Aw, you think?”

“Of course I do. No one is gifted with that amount of shock in their eyes and goes on life being normal.”

“My, how flattering you are,” Bucky says.

Lincoln brings their food. Tells them that they can take their time, but there’s the bill.

“You know who I need to talk to,” Tony says.

“Maybe I do,” Bucky answers, evasive as possible.

“I know you got hired for skills, but if it was for lying, then this is child’s play,” Tony says.

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“It wasn’t for lying. It was because if I was about two hundred feet away, I could shoot your right pupil out and you wouldn’t even know.”

“You think I don’t have my own tech encircling the city?”

“No,” Bucky answers.

Tony stops sipping on his cider.

“Explain yourself, blue-eyed wonder.”

"Because if you’re found out, it destroys every single reputation you’re going to have to build from the start, and the climb to the top is too delicate for that.”

Tony sits back.

“I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky says. “But you’re going to want to meet my boss. I’ll take you to him some time this week, if you need. Or he can meet you.”

“I doubt he’ll be able to.”

Okay so maybe Tony shouldn’t have said that, because there is a man with an eye-patch and a truly impressive trench-coat sitting in his office chair.

“If that’s supposed to be an intimidation tactic, that’s what I learned for my ninth birthday with dear ole’ dad,” Tony says. “Literally none of them work on me.”

“Then change your ‘visitor’ chairs, they’re damn uncomfortable,” the man says. “My name is Director Fury.”

“Any first name?”

“None that you need to know. Barnes told me that you wanted to talk to me about a deal.”

“I don’t do deals.”

“And yet you run a business.”

“Noted,” Tony says, leaning on the window. “So. I want to keep doing what I do, and I want you guys to butt out of it.”

“And why would we do that?”

“Because it’s technically only making rich people sad,” Tony says. “And the occasional museum, but oh well. And, I can easily make your life worse.”

“You think I haven’t been threatened before?”

“Oh I know you have, what with your sparkling personality and charm,” Tony says. “But I’m threatening the whole of SHIELD. I have been in the dark for a long time, Fury, and as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t know half of what I can do.

The only thing people really know is that I’m a genius and so was my father, but nothing else. Neat, isn’t it?”

Fury doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“What’s your deal?”

“Glad to know you know what I can do for you,” Tony says. “I can provide security and make sure that every single person has the latest technological updates. I have one stipulation: I get to make Barnes a new arm.”

“That’s your only condition?”

“Oh, you’ll be grateful it’s the only thing I’m asking for,” Tony says. “Believe me, I’ll still be annoying. I can promise you that.”

Fury looks at him carefully. Tony Stark is still a mystery, although he seems to overestimate himself. Or how much Fury can actually see about people.

“Why Barnes’ arm?”

“Why not?” Tony asks. “After all, he deserves an arm that looks as nice as he does.”

“No in-work relationships.”

“Consider me not an employee,” Tony says.

“Then you’re not on the payroll.”

“I don’t have to be paid to get what I want to get,” he remarks.

Fury gets up from the chair (he’ll make a note to Maria: he needs something like it soon) and gives Tony a pointed look at the doorway.

“You sure about this?”

Tony’s eyes gleam.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Director Fury is not ready. Tony shows up in floral-printed shirts and makes sure to blast rock music wherever he goes, or worse, metal.

Barnes has never had a good poker face, which is why he’s the sharpshooter. Damned man turns to goo whenever the billionaire struts onto their property.

But he’s happy about his office chair.

#lovelyirony writes #this one was FUN i enjoyed it #thief au #kind of #bucky barnes #winteriron #tony stark #director fury #pepper potts

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chestnut-b · 4 years

Text

Himawari Chapter 6

This man will be the death of you.

The first time Iruka had laid eyes on Kakashi’s figure in that field of sunflowers, a voice had whispered in his ear, as if carried by the wind.

Chapter 6 of a Demon Slayer AU.

Iruka, I’m sorry.

His mother had smiled at him sadly the first time he’d mentioned hearing voices. She’d taken him into her warm arms and sang a sweet but melancholic song, her hands running through his hair, the sound of the waves breaching the shore outside eventually lulling him to sleep.

It wasn’t until he was older that he was made to understand the nature of being born a Senju.

Descendants would always be born with bodies that would fail them.

Their karma from having produced a great demon would haunt their line till the day Orochimaru was wiped from existence.

But the gods, in some twisted form of consolation, decided to bestow their kin with exceptional foresight, allowing them to amass their fortunes, and continue their fight till this day, leading the demon slayers.

Of all the voices Iruka had heard throughout his life, the one that would have saved his parents never reached him.

Iruka had been a sickly child, too weak to lift a sword. He could manage a kunai at least, much to his father’s relief, and soon, he began his training in the shinobi arts. Poisons, traps, diversions and an almost inhumane focus on accuracy made up a large part of his childhood memories with his father. Bittersweet, but precious nonetheless.

Ikaku hailed from a small shinobi village on the Izu coast, its destruction eventually leading him to the demon slayers. He’d been reporting to Sarutobi at his estate when he came across a visiting Kohari.

“He was as red as a tomato.” Sarutobi would chuckle, grinning widely as he recounted that first meeting. His father’s dour demeanour had been well-known amongst his comrades, but so was his sense of duty. It made his desertion with Kohari all the more shocking.

“The burden of being a Senju is not an easy one to bear, Iruka. She wanted to protect you, however she could.”

It was the night of his thirteenth year. He was managing a squirming Naruto in his arms when Sarutobi had said that. Had Iruka followed the path he was meant to walk, he would have already been married to a wife chosen by the temple, and the baby in his arms would have been his own, one who would eventually endure the same cycle of karma as their ancestors before them.

If being thankful for avoiding that fate made him a coward, so be it.

His parents had brought him to Sarutobi several times as he grew older, despite the lingering fear of retribution for deserting. With his instruction, Iruka had eventually worked up the strength to even wield a sword, something Sarutobi considered an achievement in itself, even if his stamina would always be left wanting.

“If something happens to us, go to him.”

Those were the last instructions they gave him before they had set out from their home. A week prior, a talking crow had appeared, bearing news of the coming birth of an Uzumaki, and the hoard of demons and familiars who were beginning to gather. His mother, already in a weakened state, simply looked at her husband resolvedly.

Perhaps she too, had received her own revelation. Ikaku had deserted the corp, but never his will to protect the weak from demons. His blade had never seen a dull day, and this time, he would not let his old comrades face the coming threat alone.

They’d died fulfilling their duties.

Iruka was proud of them. He’d told them as much, praying before the empty grave markers he’d made outside their home.

He’d just wished they hadn’t left him behind.

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

If he closed his eyes and focused, he could hear the beat of Kakashi’s heart.

Like the rumbling of a storm forming in the distance.

As a child, he’d run out of the house to stand on the edge of the cliff where his parents’ graves now stood, watching with fascination as the darkening clouds gathered where the sea met the sky.

If he closed his eyes, he’d find himself there yet again.

“Naruto, keep yourself together. Not much longer now.”

Surprisingly, the boy nodded obediently without complaint. He’d been strangely quiet. They were passing through another wisteria grove, and Iruka found himself being carried on the Hashira’s back as they made the last of their way back to the school. Kakashi had insisted; he wasn’t in good shape, despite the rest he had gotten.

An hour ago when they’d left the cave, he’d slipped an arm under his knees and back, lifting him up as easily as one would a child. Resistance at this point was futile, and Kakashi’s amusement seemed to grow the redder he got.

This man will be the death of you.

The first time Iruka had laid eyes on Kakashi’s figure in that field of sunflowers, a voice had whispered in his ear, as if carried by the wind.

It wasn’t said with any kind of discernible malice, nor was it tainted with foreboding, like so many of the voices he’d heard before.

It was gentle and lined with warmth, almost as if it was meant to comfort him.

Mother?

Iruka had been so shaken by this, he’d forgotten to offer his name to the Hashira when they finally met.

Nearly two months later, here he was, flush against a warm and broad back that reminded him painfully of his father, Naruto trailing sleepily behind them.

If this was what that voice was referring to, perhaps it wasn’t the worst way to go.

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

They moved at a steady pace amidst the rain of falling petals overhead, and he was just about ready to doze off before Kakashi’s musings reached his ears.

“I was thinking...we’re not too different after all, Iruka-sensei.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Final Selection. I didn’t pass either.” He admitted softly.

“I’ve heard Naruto tell better lies, Kakashi-san.” Iruka couldn’t imagine a world where it could be true.

“You wound me, sensei. I’d never lie to you.” Iruka thought he almost sounded serious for a moment, but Kakashi sighed wistfully before continuing, a little more subdued than Iruka was used to hearing.

“After my father died, I ended up at a school. I met a boy, Obito, and a girl, Rin there. Minato-sensei eventually came and took us as his apprentices.”

“Obito was an idiot, but we became rivals. We entered the selection together. I’d always made fun of him for being a crybaby and a goody-two shoes, but he ended up saving many of the entrants that year.”

“We ended up against a demon who’d survived on the mountain for over three decades, eating humans and absorbing other demons. We were outmatched, and I’d lost an eye, but...Obito managed to activate his Sharingan.”

The Sharingan; so Obito was a descendant of the Uchiha, Iruka realised. Like the Uzumaki, they’d come from a long, ancient line of demon hunters. Their eyes were said to have granted demon-like perception, but at a steep price. Much like the Senju, none with an activated Sharingan would live to see old age. By now, they had been all but wiped out, after one of their members had become a demon, slaughtering and sparing not even a single child,

“We thought we’d defeated it, and I’d let my guard down. The cave we were in collapsed on us.” Kakashi continued. “Obito protected me and took the blow, but his right side was crushed.”

Iruka’s hold on Kakashi’s shoulders tightened on reflex. He knew what was coming. The eyepatch over Kakashi’s left eye, along with his fame as a Hashira, was more than enough.

“Rin was skilled enough to fulfill his last request, but I lost consciousness right after, and when I came to, the selection was over. Obito was the only one who failed to make it that year.”

Kakashi looked up at the wisteria flowers overhead.

“So you see, sensei, I don’t deserve to be standing here right now. I didn’t pass the selection like I was supposed to.”

Iruka pressed closer.

“Please don’t say that. It hasn’t just been Naruto and my life you’ve saved.” Iruka whispered. How many lives had Kakashi rescued since becoming a slayer, too many to count, in all likelihood.

Passing the selection meant you had to survive a week on that battlefield, and Kakashi had, by all means, passed. Most of the entrants would have been children.

The demon Kakashi had faced might have been an outlier, but the thought of Naruto having to go through the same ordeal was almost too much to bear.

“You don’t resent the Senju for all this?”

It was a question only a Hashira could answer. They were the only ones in the corp who knew the identity of their leader; it was a secret as closely guarded as the location of the family estate. The rest of the corp knew him only as “Oyakata-sama”.

“I can’t say they’ve done everything right, but they are doing their best.” Kakashi stated. There must have been more he wanted to say, he’d refrained from doing so.

They continued walking in silence for a while more, but a question had been circling in Iruka’s mind since Kakashi had mentioned it the night before.

“Kakashi-san...your father, did he...look like you?”

He felt Kakashi’s pace hitch for just a beat.

“Why do you ask?” It was barely a whisper.

“If he did...I might have seen him before.” Iruka admitted.

It was one of Iruka’s earliest recollections. The man had hair much longer than Kakashi’s, and though Iruka had yet to see most of the Hashira’s face, the aura they projected was remarkably similar.

The man fought Ikaku outside their home. It had been a fierce battle, and the first time he’d seen his father fight another human. Kohari had been holding him, and she’d been more scared than Iruka remembered being.

“I think he’d been sent to find us. Father called him -”

“Sakumo.” Kakashi finished. Iruka nodded.

“He didn’t say very much. They fought, and after a while, he just left.”

Kakashi snorted. “That sounds just like him”

Iruka smiled wryly. He’d left out the fact that Sakumo had beat his father half an inch from his life. With a wave, he’d left with a satisfied look on his face, together with the hound he’d arrived with.

“He’d found us, but nothing ever happened after that.”

Kakashi chuckled softly. “So he was testing your father’s resolve then.”

Iruka smiled.

“He must have been a good man.”

“What makes you think that?” It almost sounded like a test.

Iruka had only ever seen his father cry twice. The first, when he had to accept there was nothing he could do for his wife’s declining condition. The second…

“My father cried when the news came.”

That Sakumo had killed himself, having been turned a demon. Even if it had been against his will, his village would have shunned him, even in death. His family too, would have been made outcasts.

Kakashi remained quiet, and Iruka was slowly beginning to regret bringing up the subject.

“Thank you. It’s good to know I wasn’t the only one.”

Gods.

He closed his eyes, feeling like the child he used to be, watching the storm brewing on the horizon. Sakumo and Kakashi, watching them in battle, had felt exactly the same way.

He thought of his parents, who were watching him from wherever they’d gone.

Father...Mother…

If there is any happiness out there meant for this man…

Please, guide him to it.

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

Iruka had requested for the last of his dignity to be spared, and so just before they’d arrived at gates, Kakashi set the teacher back down on his two feet. Strapping his sword back into his belt, Iruka checked on his young charge, who had been almost unnervingly quiet since they’d set out this morning.

“Naruto, something wrong?”

“I’m fine, sensei.” He could have been a lot more convincing if he’d looked Iruka in the eyes. Iruka’s expression grew more concerned, and he placed a warm hand on the boy’s head.

“You must be starving. I’ll have them fix you something as soon as we get back.” The boy nodded in response, and the three of them walked towards the gates.

“What the heck happened to you?” Izumo and Kotetsu had run up to them as soon as they were in sight. Iruka scratched the back of his head and sighed.

“We ran into some trouble on the way back. One of the entry points’ been destroyed, and we encountered a demon at the cave by the ravine.”

“You’re serious. It’s the second one this month. We’ll have to let the others know. You look like crap by the way.”

Iruka rolled his eyes in Kotetsu’s direction.

“Who took over my class today?”

“Oh, Mizuki did, he wasn’t too happy about it either. He says you owe him a main dish at dinner.”

“Right.” Iruka sighed.

Behind them, Izumo went up to Kakashi, holding up a slip of paper to the Hashira.

“A message arrived this morning for you, Hatake-dono.” Kakashi thanked the man, and looked at the letter’s contents.

The Snake Pillar has arrived. Your presence at headquarters is requested. Your debriefing will be held in two days.

So Anko had returned. A debriefing…

Kakashi’s gaze found Iruka’s back. He’d gone up ahead with Naruto, but turned around to send a tired smile his way.

Was this feeling...Disappointment?

Perhaps.

Despite the realisation, he found himself smiling too.

It had been a long time since he’d had something to feel that way about.

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

“I see.”

Iruka was staring into his tea cup again.

“Naruto’s in good hands, Iruka-sensei.” Kakashi said, sipping at his own tea. He’d spent the afternoon packing his belongings.

It had been years since Kakashi had spent this much time in one place, but it wasn’t as difficult as he’d expected. Two months had gone by in the blink of an eye, and he’d been given precious time to think about things he’d brushed off before.

Like why he was still alive. Why he was still a demon slayer.

Despite everything he’d lost, living the life he did, it was easy to forget.

“I’ll send Bisuke and Guruko when I can.”

Iruka laughed softly. “Not that anything exciting happens around here, but I’d like to hear about your adventures, Kakashi-san.”

The teacher’s face seemed to brighten at his words. His face was faintly flushed, and his smile was warm. It was different from the one he’d seen the day they’d first met, the one that was meant to greet a superior. Kakashi liked to think they could be friends.

That night at dinner, when Iruka gave up his dish as compensation to Mizuki for covering for him, he’d laughed when half a grilled fish appeared on his empty plate.

It was a worthwhile sacrifice to hear it.

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

“Naruto’s resting in bed. He’s still pretty out of it I’m afraid.”

Iruka scratched at his scar sheepishly.

They’d walked together till the gates were out of sight. Guruko was trailing behind Kakashi, but when they’d stopped, Iruka kneeled down to give her a satisfying rub.

“Don’t let Kakashi-san work you too hard, Guruko.” He whispered. Guruko barked happily in agreement. Iruka laughed, and rose again to face Kakashi.

“So this is where we part.”

“For now.”

“For now.” Iruka repeated, nodding.

He reached a hand out towards the Hashira, who took it firmly in his own.

“It’s going to be a bit lonelier now. Keep safe, Kakashi-san.”

It was a hard ask for someone who’d lived to throw themselves into battle.

“Well, I’ll do my best, Iruka-sensei.”

He would. Kakashi had to stay alive, now that he’d found a new reason to fight.

“Maybe I’ll find a way to defeat Orochimaru, and you’ll finally be able to leave this fancy cage you’ve built for yourself.”

If the gods are willing, you’ll get to see Naruto grow up, or even have a family of your own.

Iruka’s eyes widened, before softening again. He let go of Kakashi’s hand.

“I’ve never thought of it that way, but thank you, Kakashi-san.”

“I’m really glad I got to meet you.”

Kakashi smiled at him one more time before he started walking. Lifting an arm, he gave a lazy wave before eventually disappearing from sight.

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

It should have only been the two of them, so why did he feel a third presence?

Iruka felt a burning sensation in his chest.

It hurt to breathe.

He pried his eyes open.

Naruto lay in his futon an arm away. But he was wide awake, and he was staring at Iruka wordlessly; not with his sky-blue eyes, no.

The eyes that bore into him now were slit, and glowed orange like a molten fire.

“Naruto...?” Words struggled to leave his throat, but the boy didn’t respond. Iruka felt despair grip him. If this wasn’t a nightmare, what was he to do?

He did the only thing he could think of.

Reaching an arm out to Naruto, he pulled the boy to his chest. It was as if he’d held his hand to a naked flame. His entire body burned.

He heard a faint growl and felt the child struggle under his arm, and despite his burning lungs, Iruka held him closer.

“Naruto, it’s alright. I’m here.” Iruka cried.

No matter what happens. I’m here.

The boy stiffened in his arms, but soon relaxed into his hold. The heat emanating from his body dissipated, and Iruka found the strength to take in air once again. The third presence he had felt faded from his senses, and the boy was soon breathing in the relaxed rhythm Iruka had come to know.

Closing his eyes, he recalled Kakashi’s words the day before.

Naruto’s in good hands...

I can only pray you’re right, Kakashi-san.

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

End of Chapter 6

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

Author’s Notes:

Ohh, I wasn’t kidding when I said this was going to be a slow burn. ;_;

It’s not a chapter with too much going on in it, but I hope it was an enjoyable one nonetheless! I’m curious as to what you think (if you’ve read Demon Slayer) and how it’s been used as a backdrop for this fic. Of course, things have been changed a bit. : )

I’m really happy with how the art turned out for this chapter though! I’ve had to teach myself how to draw again after a long hiatus, and this was the first time I’ve been satisfied with the end result, so I hope you enjoy it too!

#kakairu #iruka #kakashi #iruka umino #umino iruka #demon slayer au

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yodawgiherd · 3 years

Text

Red flag pt.2

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Q and A sessions are surprisingly fun to write. Rating still M, I'm not thErE yEt. ^^

A week.

One week was how long Mikasa managed before the curiosity killed the proverbial cat and her fingers tapped the name of the newest addition to her contact list. Eren picked up on the fifth ring, sounding sleepy, which she thought was strange considering that it was about two in the afternoon.

“Yeager.”, came his muffled voice, followed by a yawn.

It took her a second before Mikasa realized that she didn’t give him her number, as per their agreement, so he had no idea who’s calling.

“Hey, it’s Mikasa.”, she re-introduced herself, “Remember me?”

There was a sound on the other end, a shuffle of bedding as he sat up straight.

“Of course I do, the pretty girl with the pretty name.”

“The one and only. Listen, is that lunch offer still on the table?”

“Totally, just tell me the place and time and I’ll be there.”

“Really? I can pick anything?”

He chuckled at how excited her voice became.

“I’m not a picky eater.”

“And it’s still on you, right?”

“Yep.”

“Well then…”

The sushi place was fancy, far above her poor-ass student budget. She was there twice so far, once Levi treated her when the news of Mikasa being accepted at the university arrived, and once when it was her birthday and Sasha decided to splurge for her best friend. And boy did Mikasa love both those experiences. She felt a bit guilty, abusing Eren’s blind trust like that, but hey, he offered it first, and judging from the state of his flat, he wasn’t doing half bad for himself. If it came to the worst, Mikasa was prepared to split the bill, she did have some money from her part-time job. The food was worth it.

Eren wasn’t there when she arrived, so Mikasa picked a table, getting herself comfortable. When the waitress came, she almost sent her away, to wait for Eren, but then reminded herself that she’s , most likely, not paying. Appetizer it was. When he finally arrived, she was already halfway done with the fried chicken pieces, which earned a raised eyebrow.

“Hungry?”, he asked, removing his coat and sitting down himself.

“Famished.”, she agreed, “Forgot to eat breakfast.”

She skipped breakfast willingly to save space for this feast, but that was something Eren didn’t need to know. Most likely satisfied with her little lie, he nodded before picking up the menu himself. The evening progressed with somewhat casual conversation and excellent food. Eren asked her how she’s doing lately, and Mikasa described the procrastinating bliss she’s been living in since her last exam. That paradise was coming to an end, however, as she needed to get out of the city soon and back to her hometown.

“To visit your parents?”, he asked, understandably not knowing the bitter truth that Mikasa wasn’t ready to share yet.

Instead, she shook her head.

“No, I have a part-time work at my brother’s gym.”, she pointed towards herself, “One personal trainer, right here.”

Luckily, Eren didn’t press the issue. The way he knew when to stop asking was an amazing thing, and Mikasa secretly wished that more people would be born with that gift. To break the silence that followed, and to change the course of the conversation, Mikasa decided to strike back.

“So, Eren, how about we stop beating around the bush.”

His grin was cheeky.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Please, as if you don’t know why I came here in the first place.”

He picked up one sushi roll that he was eating, with a fork like a damn savage, turning it against the light.

“The free food?”

She scowled at his amused expression.

“Because of my amazing company?”, he guessed again, getting a sigh in return.

“As if.”

“Wow, you hurt me.”

The smile present in the answer was infectious, and Mikasa had a hard time resisting it.

“You are quite the egoist, aren’t you?”

“So I’m told.”, Eren shrugged, unbothered by that accusation.

Unsure how to continue, Mikasa massaged her forehead. This guy was something else.

“Since it’s so important to you, “ Eren offered, “Why don’t you just ask?”

“Fine.”, looking back up, she met his emeralds with her own eyes, “What do you do for a living?”

“Care to guess first?”

More games? Fine, you’re on.

“Okay, sure.”, putting her chopsticks down, as she was a civilized person, Mikasa rested her chin on her intertwined hands, “Let’s go over what I know then. First, there is this strange… rope fixation you have, and you said that was caused by your job, right?”

“It’s not only ropes,”, he corrected her, “But it is related to my job, yes.”

“Second, when I called you yesterday you were still in bed, and it was around two, which means that you work late at night, right?“

“I could have been gaming all night, didn’t think about that?”

“Maybe, but maybe not. I’ll take my chances.”

“All right, then put the two together. What do you think I am?”

“A smug bastard.”

Of course he grinned at that.

“That’s true. But professionally?”

Putting on her best thinking hat, Mikasa rolled the facts around in her head.

“A policeman?”, she tried.

“Not a bad guess, handcuffs and night shifts.”, Eren took the time to have a dramatic sip before finally revealing the truth, “But you’re wrong. Try again.”

“Some sort of artist then?”

His eyes narrowed.

“I guess you could say that. But what kind do you have in mind?”

“Singer?”

“Nope.”

“Painter?”

“No.”

Mikasa tried a few more art-related jobs that would fit Eren’s profile, but he shot down all of them. At the end of her rope, she pulled out a trump card. Even looking objectively, outside of that “he was totally her type” thing, Eren was very attractive. Combine that with strange working times and….

“Are you a model?”

“Yea…..Nope.”

Damn it. Out of ideas, Mikasa put up her palms in the international gesture of surrender.

“Ok, I give up.”

“Guess we will never know then.”, Eren leaned back in his chair, smugger than ever before, “What a disappointment.”

Out of words and completely against her usually serious character, Mikasa kicked him under the table. Hard.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Spill the beans, Eren.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll kick you again.”

Rubbing his shin and not sure that his bones would survive another kick like that, Eren decided that the teasing stage was over.

“Very well then.”, leaning closer, he put both his elbows on the wood, looking right into Mikasa’s eyes when he spoke.

“I’m a dom.”

The clueless look on her face was priceless.

“H-Huh?”

“Dom, master, and a hundred other ways you can call it.”

In slow motion, Eren watched as that clueless expression changed. With words falling and clicking into place, the not-understanding look was replaced by a blush that began creeping up to her cheeks. In short, it was adorable.

“Y-You mean like… like….”

“Yes.”

“Err… I…”

And Eren waited patiently, finishing his drink, while Mikasa kept trying to say a word and completely failing at it. It took her about five minutes before she finally closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and steadied herself.

“So you’re like a s-sex worker? P-Prostitute?

“No and yes.”

“Huh?!”

“Technically, you’re right. But since I don’t have sex with my clients, I don’t usually call myself sex worker.”

“Ok, I’m lost.”

“Well, it's actually quite easy. I fulfill the fantasies of the client, I take care of their needs, I make them…. Err..”, he looked around to see if no one was around – they were in public after all, “…finish, but I don’t do it myself.”

“So what you’re saying is…”

“I’m saying that I can satisfy my clients needs without doing it the old-fashioned way. God bless technology.”

Mikasa was rubbing her forehead now, taking the information in.

“And your clients… what are they?”

“I deal with women exclusively if that’s what you are asking. But if you have a male friend in need of similar services, I know a great dominatrix, mistress A, that can take them, she’s a real top of the class. She was my…”, his gaze slid over Mikasa’s face, lingering over the shape of her eyes for a second, “ senpai back when I was beginning.”

She groaned. He had to use that word to tease her, abusing the weakened mental state she was in right now – she couldn’t think of a comeback. And, to salt the wound, he was grinning again.

“You can’t dump something like this at me without any explanation.”, Mikasa demanded, “How did you even end up working like this?”

“It’s…”, kind of personal, he was about to say, but then he met Mikasa’s eyes and that defense he usually held up around his secrets melted.

It was crazy, he didn’t even know the girl that well, he had no idea what she was truly like. But she was here, sitting across the table, and her grey eyes saw right through him. And he… he simply told her.

“When I was a kid, I was a bit fucked up. My dad…. He was not exactly a great role model. My mom was his second wife, he left the first after having a kid with her.”, he answered her follow-up question before she even asked, “Yes, I have a half-brother but we are not in contact. After leaving her, he married my mom and had me. I can’t say that he was a bad guy, from what little I remember, but he was hardly ever home. And one day, he completely disappeared. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead, neither does mom, and the police couldn’t find him. He’s gone.”

Mikasa, who had her own tragic parents-related story, remained silent, knowing that even years later it is hard to talk about stuff like this. Eren took a small break, a sip of water, and went on.

“I had a lot of issues from that, anger mostly. I lashed out on anyone or anything that I didn’t like, punching before asking. Bloodying people and getting bloodied myself was the only way to get the anger out, I did not know any better. You can imagine that didn’t go well in school. Mom did her best to keep me in line, but it was hard for her, too hard at times. Through sheer luck and endless patience of my teachers, I managed to graduate, but the anger inside me didn’t die. Even as an adult, I was a colossal dickhead. But all that changed shortly after I turned eighteen and moved to college.”

“Why?”

“Because I met her.”

Who? and How? were on the edge of Mikasa’s tongue, but she held those questions in. Eren would tell her.

“It was one of the college parties, you know how those go. I was there mostly to get drunk and get into a fight with someone because that was about everything I cared about back then. I succeeded in that too, I punched some blonde dude in the face and he didn’t take that lightly.”

“Did you beat him up?”

To her surprise, Eren tipped his head back and laughed.

“No. The dude completely wrecked me. He was a titan, both taller and heavier than me, and I later learned that he was a boxer as well. When I woke up from the beating he so generously gave me, I saw that a blonde girl had dragged me out on the lawn and was standing there still, waiting. Naturally, as I was a real gentleman back then, I spat out the blood in my mouth, told her to fuck off and tried getting up. Do you know what she did?”

“No idea.”

“She slapped me. Hard. I called her a stupid bitch, and she slapped me again. The third time, I got about two syllables out before her palm made another imprint on my face. And after all that, she kissed me, and I realized I was never so turned on in my life.”

Mikasa honestly didn’t know what to say.

“That’s….random?”

“I was a raging asshole back then Mikasa. I know that saying it now, it looks like she was acting out of her mind, but you weren’t there.”, Eren shook his head, “Anyway, that’s how I met the future mistress A. Annie.”

“How did she even know that you won't just flip out after she slaps you?”

“She didn’t. Later she told me that it was a hunch on her part, that watching me get into a fight with that giant for no good reason tipped her off, showed her that I might have some anger issues.”

“So, after that, she showed you the ropes?”

He didn’t miss the reference, it earned a respectful nod from him.

“Yes. She was already working as a domme, on her own back then, and mostly for fun and the experience. Annie was older than me by a year, and she spent that year mostly half-assing school and perfecting her skill for her future job.”

“What happened after that party? Did you two became a couple?”

“Not really. We didn’t date, like at all, but we became good friends, and Annie would train her techniques on me.”

“So what, she like tied you up from time to time?”

He nodded.

“That and other things. We practiced on each other, but we never made it sexual. I know it sounds crazy, but you didn’t meet Annie, she’s can drip hot wax on your nipples without batting an eye. I’d say that’s part of her charm, she’s completely stoic while working.”

“And you?”

“Honestly, in the beginning, it was weird as hell. But when we kept doing it, I realized that my anger was subdued by it, that this helped me overcome it for the first time in my life. With all the discipline and focus this required I managed to be in control of my life for what felt like the first time. It was still difficult for me from time to time, I admit, but Annie was always there to put me back to my place.”

“How did she know that this was what you needed?”

“Annie also had… issues when she was younger. And this thing helped her through it, so she thought I might be the same. For the record, she was right.” Eren was having a pleasant memory trip, and Mikasa kept silent, not wanting to interrupt, “Anyway, after I realized that I prefer being the top, Annie found me a girl who liked being the bottom.”

“Finally a girlfriend?”, Mikasa tried again, but he chuckled.

“Nope, this one had a catch too. She was mostly a lesbian.”

“Mostly a lesbian?”

“Yea, she’s bi, but prefers women.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I? She was tiny and amazingly flexible because she does gymnastics. Incredible performance partner, I still work with her from time to time.”

“But why didn’t she find a female partner then? If she prefers women that is.”

“She did, sort of, Annie worked on her too sometimes, I think that was why she even agreed to do it in the first place. But with a blindfold around her eyes and tied up so she couldn’t touch us, she kind of stopped caring who’s holding the vibrator.”

Mikasa felt like this was all a big joke, but Eren was completely serious.

“You had this little triangle of fun for how long?”

“Till we graduated. After that, Annie and I found the agency and got employed there, and Krista went on to become a doctor.”

“I’ll presume that Krista was that flexible one?”

“You’d presume correctly.”

“She’s a doctor, but she still does… things? With you?”

“She performs with us sometimes if that’s what you’re talking about. Nothing else.”

“You want to tell me that you’ve been doing BDSM…. stuff to each other for years and never fucked?”, Mikasa shook her head, “I don’t buy it.”

“You don’t have to, but it’s the truth. My relationship with both Annie and Krista was strictly professional, however crazy that sounds.”

“Then how did you develop your “can’t have sex until the girl is tied up” thing.”

“I dated in college normally, not much mind you, but a few flings found their way to me. Then it was pretty simple. When I had normal sex, I didn’t find myself half as aroused as I was when Annie slapped me for the first time. So I tried getting my hobby into play.”

Hobby, that’s one way to call it.

“And how did it go?”

“Not great. The first two girls said that I’m a creep and left. But the third one agreed and…”, Eren leaned back again, folding his hands behinds his head, “best sex of my life.”

“Fine, but if you enjoy it, why don’t you do it at work then? I’m sure some of your clients would appreciate it.”

“I’m sure they would, but I have this strange need to differentiate between work and pleasure - I think I caught it from Annie. I can’t get into it when I know that the person I’m tying up paid for it.”

“Strange.”

Eren didn’t argue.

“Strange indeed.”

All right, cool info dump and all, but Mikasa was more confused than anything. He was a sex worker BUT he didn’t have sex with his clients BUT he preferred to have the toys in bed while doing it. What the hell?

“Can you like, describe what you do then? I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

Eren shrugged.

“Sure. After making the initial contact, through the agency of course…”

“You’re still at the same one?”

“Yup, much easier that way. Don’t have to deal with things.”, Eren scrunched his nose, “Like taxes.”

“Okay, so some bored lady picks you at your company’s website, and then what?”

“Then we do the first meeting, through phone, email, or in person, that’s up to the client. There, we discuss important things, like what my hard limits are.”

“Which means?”

“Things that I won’t do, for various reasons.”

Mikasa didn’t ask what those were, so Eren continued.

“With that out of the way, we talk about what my client wants, what sort of fantasy I would be fulfilling. Once I have a picture in my head, I recommend the place to meet – one of the places owned by the agency, dungeons if you want, or even the clients own place.”

“You go to people’s homes with that?”

“If they want it, yes. It fits the best for certain scenarios, and people usually feel much more comfortable there.”

“And they trust you? I mean, you could tie them up and rob the place.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I never thought of that?”, Eren scratched the back of his head, “That’s a valid thing what you said, but I have the agency to vouch for me.”

“Okay. And then?”

“Then we meet at the place we picked, have a quick recap to make sure I’ll do everything she wants, pick a safeword and we are good to go.”

“And you do what?”

“Mikasa, my range of services is very wide.”, putting one hand on the table, Eren began counting, finger by finger, “Bondage, suspension, pain stuff like caning, whipping and more. Waxplay, petplay, some electro, and…”

“Ok, ok! I heard enough!”

“I’d imagine so. From how you reacted when I put the rope around your hands, let me guess that you are very vanilla, right?”

“Huh?”

“It means like basic – that you don’t do anything strange in the bedroom.”

“No, I…”, Mikasa ran her hand over her somewhat heated forehead, “I’m very vanilla.”

“Weird.”

She fixed him with a look.

“Why is that weird?”

“It’s just…” he gestured towards her, “People with your style are usually into it.”

“My style? You mean black?”

“Dark, goth, however, you want to call it.”, he reached up, tapping his ear, at the same place where Mikasa’s cartilage was pierced, “And those things are also not completely usual.”

“I guess I am a bit strange, but nothing compared to you, sir. I never even imagined….”

“Well, the big mystery is over, the cat is out of the bag.”, he looked at her with a strange emotion in his eyes now, one that Mikasa couldn’t quite decipher. It looked like… worry?

“We can still be friends, right?”, he asked.

It was not like Eren did anything bad to her, and while his job was a bit shocking, he was still nothing but the perfect gentleman.

“Right, of course. I… I’ll need some time to digest this, I think.”

Eren watched her, tapping his fingers against the table, teeth chewing his full bottom lip. He was thinking about something, Mikasa could tell, but before she could ask, he dropped the bomb at her.

“Come to one of my shows.”

“Huh?”

“My shows. I don’t do individual clients only, I perform at clubs too. BDSM clubs that is. I’ll write the address down.”

She was shaking her head before he even finished the sentence.

“N-No, I.. .No... I’d never.”

“I’m not asking you to take part, there will be plenty of people as spectators. And don’t worry about being recognized or something, the club is members only and you can grab a mask at the entrance if you want, your identity will be safe.”

His words burned with intensity now, but his eyes did even more, and Mikasa was drowning in it.

“W-Why is it so important to you?”

“Because I can see how you look at me now. You think that I’m some sort of pervert, that I what do is unnatural, not normal. I want to show you that it can be beautiful too, that there is nothing wrong if two consenting adults have a go at something like this.”

“I.. Uhm…”

The address written on a napkin, Eren slid it over to her.

“Listen, I obviously won’t force you into anything, this is your choice. The show is next week and then again in two weeks. You said that you are leaving the city soon, right?”

She nodded, wordless.

“Is it far? Or could you theoretically come back for the evening?”

“It’s not that far.”, Mikasa replied, finding her voice again, “Like an hour and a half drive.”

“All right. Let’s put it like this, if you want, come to the second show, the one that is two weeks from now, the club will be less packed, and I will tell the bouncer to let you in. Just let him know that Eren sent you. If you don’t want to, that’s fine too, I will understand.”

She nodded, once again retreating to no-words strategy. Eren took it as a cue, standing up.

“I’ll go settle the bill.”

When he came back, he grabbed his coat, putting it on while Mikasa sat there, gears in her head turning.

“If you won’t show, I’ll know that you are not interested in that part of my life, but that doesn’t mean we can’t meet again. Right?”, he smiled at her, “If you ever want a free lunch, give me a call, okay?”

That said, Eren half-turned towards the exit, ready to go when Mikasa’s voice interrupted him.

“Eren?”

“Yea?”

“Give me your phone.”

He did so automatically, even unlocking it for her. It wasn’t like there were any more dirty secrets he had to hide from her, not after today. Mikasa worked for a while, tapping the screen before she set it back on the wood and slid it over to him. Picking the device up, Eren saw that he had a new contact added – certain Mikasa Ackerman.

“This will be easier if we have a way to get in touch with each other right?”

Now he was the one dumbly nodding.

“Right…”

“I don’t know if I will turn up for your show, but I want to meet again. I don’t want to cut and run because of what you told me today. You’re a nice guy.”

“You’re saying that because I bought you lunch.”, Eren accused her with a smile, getting some bravado back.

She winked at him.

“Perhaps.”

Still smiling, Eren pocketed his phone, feeling like he got more out of this meeting than he even dared to hope for.

“Well, I’ll see you around then, Mikasa.”

“Take care Eren.”

She watched him leave the restaurant, her own lips curved upwards. When he disappeared from view, she ran her hands through her hair, a half-amused/half-nervous giggle falling from her lips. She had never asked this many questions in her life, not even in her classes. And the answers she got were…. something else.

This guy? This guy was getting more interesting by the second.

#fanfic #snk #eremika #why yes I do prefer doing new drafts instead of finishing WIPs #how could you tell?

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

Darkest Storms & Brightest Rainbows (Part 1)

MASTERLIST

Part 2

Part 3

Hard Love (unoffical part 4)

Finally, the first part of my “Cat fic” is here! I kept some lines and plot lines from the show, but I also added some different elements. For example, there’s a lot of scenes/references from Entropy and Date Night later on, but I didn’t include much from Red Light. You’ll soon see why.

I began this at the end of last year and didn’t think it would see the light of day as it wasn’t going anywhere. But after some inspiration, I finally finished it. I decided to break it into three parts in honor of the three Cat episodes. Besides, if I had wrote one long fic it would’ve probably been around 15k words. Anyway, this way I can leave you guys hanging in suspense for a little bit (mwhaha 😏). Lastly, I just wanted to say I chose this title for this 3-parter because the characters go through some dark storms but also experience some bright rainbows along the way throughout this story. Enough of my rambling, I hope you all enjoy. 🥰

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (part 1 only has some angst)

Word Count: 4,143

It’s truly fascinating how one small drop can create a ripple in the water.

That was what meeting Spencer Reid was like.

It was a typical day at work at the coffee shop you’d been employed at for almost a year. Life had slowly been getting somewhat back to normal for you. It had been a hard previous year when you lost both parents to a car crash. Living alone was difficult, but you were making it work.

It was like a breath of fresh air to find work in a DC neighborhood cafe. You loved being able to form relationships with some frequent customers and hear about their days; it was surprisingly very cathartic to connect with so many people after feeling so much loss.

There had been a small breather between waves of numerous customers when he had first appeared at your counter for a coffee.

His order was just as unique as he was; coffee with whole milk and a little bit of honey.

He was cute. He was really cute.

His shaggy brown hair was probably just a touch too long and in need of a cut, but his loose curls made it work and it looked good on him. He had light eyes that would shift from green to brown, depending on how the sun shone through the window next to the counter and a smile so bright it rivaled the sun’s rays.

Something else you’d noticed, he was tall. Possibly 6 feet, if you were to guess. With a lean frame and a slight shyness about him, you were instantly intrigued.

You saw him more often, never managing to get his name, but managing to pick up the tiniest details about him.

There was a slight cleft to his chin, a shadow of a feature that was dominant in some others, but only was fully shown on him at certain angles.

The same went for the chameleon like dimples he sported, only showing up now and then. Every time, they made your stomach flutter, just about as much as he did.

He had a smattering of freckles that you could mainly see only up close. Not the usual freckles that would be across the bridge of the nose and cheeks on an average person, but random ones. A few under the outer corner of one eye, a lone one on the far side of his forehead, one on the side of his cheek, just along his cheekbone, another larger one on the opposite side just underneath his earlobe, plus many more tiny ones scattered everywhere.

Everything about him was unique.

His hands were large and gentle, always carefully handing you money for his drink and taking his order from you.

He was sweet and always polite, asking you how your day was going, wishing you a good day when he left.

He also had these small habits of licking his lips or squinting his eyes just the tiniest bit, without even being aware of the actions.

It was actually a bit pathetic how much you’d learned about this stranger yet couldn’t even muster up the courage to ask for his name.

It was one day, maybe six months after you’d first met the handsome stranger when you decided to take a chance.

He’d come in bright and early before 8 am dressed in gray dress pants, a purple dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a two toned purple tie. Slung across his body and resting on his hip was his usual tan satchel that you’d seen him with every day. You didn’t even have a clue what his job was.

“Morning,” he greeted with a bright smile.

You greeted him back, automatically reaching for his coffee that’d you’d been in the midst of preparing.

“Large coffee, whole milk and honey?”

“As always,” he chuckled.

Unlike other larger chains, it wasn’t a normal thing to label a person’s drink with their name, so it wasn’t easy to find out his name; hence why you still hadn’t learned it.

You were fastening the lid, about to hand it to him when you asked.

“Um, just out of curiosity, who would this coffee be labeled for?”

The minute the words were out of your mouth you wanted to take them back. It sounded so awkward and weird. Labeled for? You wanted to hit yourself.

A small smile tugged on his lips.

“Spencer. Nice to meet you—” he paused, waiting for you to fill in with your name.

“Y/N.”

He took his drink, turning to leave before pausing.

“Have a great day, Y/N.”

Less than a month later, you’d gone on your first date with Spencer.

•

Three years later, life looked a lot different.

You no longer worked at the coffee shop, but now worked from home. It took a little time, but you eventually found out you had a passion for being a social media manager for different brands. You loved social media and posting content for brands was rather fun.

You and Spencer had hit it off during that first date, considering you’d been dating for almost three years now.

As much as you missed your previous work family, you had a big new family that you’d come to be an (unofficial) part of, within these last few years.

You had finally found out after a few dates that Spencer worked for the FBI in a unit called the Behavioral Analysis Unit as a profiler; a position that uses an art of studying behavior and a lot of psychology to catch killers. It was interesting, but dangerous work. It did come with some good things though, like a work family that was like a real family. You, too, had grown close to his team members through the last few years. They were like the family you had desperately needed since your parents’ passing.

It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows in the BAU between the long hours and dangerous cases, but you were always there for Spencer. You were so proud of him and impressed by how good he was at his job; you were also proud to call him your boyfriend.

Recently, the BAU was dealing with a group of assassins, some that were hired through the deepest parts of the dark web. It had begun with one hit man that specialized in making his hits look like accidents. He had been seeking revenge on his customers and that led to the BAU discovering that there were a whole network of hitmen, each known for their own method of killing.

There was a chemist.

A sniper.

A bomber.

And the deadliest of them all, Ms. .45.

A black widow, Spencer called her.

She’d been the only one to evade capture and Spencer was going to be the one to lure her out.

You were freaked, to put it mildly. Just from what Spencer had told you about this woman, you knew dangerous didn’t even begin to describe her.

Unlike her former “co-workers”, she liked to be up close and personal with her targets. She played her games and when she was done, she’d shoot them without a morsel of guilt to drag her conscious down.

“Spencer, I really don’t think you should do this.”

You were sitting on the bed, watching him loosen his tie as he simultaneously told you about this case and changed out of his work clothes.

“Y/N, it’s better if I do it,” he said, turning to face you, his tie now hanging undone around his neck.

“Why you though?”

It wasn’t often that you argued and you couldn’t exactly count this as a fight, but you both definitely stood on opposite sides of this matter.

“I’m the closest to her age on the team. If anything goes wrong, she’ll be most likely to negotiate with a peer.”

“But Spencer,” you frowned, “I don’t like the sound of how dangerous she is. If she believes that you’re a client, she could kill you.”

“We aren’t going to let it get that far,” he assured, sitting down on the side of the bed, next to you.

“I just worry about you, always being in dangerous situations. I know it’s just a part of dating someone who works in your profession, but what if something happens to you?”

You can’t help the tiny crack of emotion in your voice and he pulls you into his arms.

“Nothing will happen to me, okay?”

You nodded into his chest and he pulled back, frowning at you.

“I don’t like to see you sad. I want to see that pretty smile of yours.”

His fingers tickled your side and you tried to hold back the laugh bubbling in your throat. You were extremely ticklish and he only ever used that against you at a time like this.

“Stop,” you squealed, trying to wriggle away from his touch, but he kept tickling you.

“Nope, not a chance,” he grinned.

You fell back on the bed, laughing and squirming as he continued his tickle torture.

“There we go,” he smiled, satisfied, “There’s that smile.”

You grinned more shyly as he cupped your face with his hand and kissed you gently.

“Just be safe, okay?”

“Always.”

He kissed you again, his lips parting from yours to trail down your jaw to your neck.

“Is this your way of distracting me?” you chuckled.

“Hmm, maybe,” he smirked.

“No complaints from this corner.”

His lips returned to yours, kissing you with such intensity, it left you breathless for a moment. Your lips moved with his, your hands tangled in his hair.

The rest of the evening was spent doing nothing other than a little fooling around.

•

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Garcia asked.

On the screen of her computer you saw Spencer entering the restaurant and speaking to the hostess before being seated.

“I’m sure,” came a moment later.

“We’ll protect him Y/N.”

This statement came from Aaron Hotchner—Hotch for short—, Spencer’s boss. You were grateful that Hotch had even let you be here, yet still the dread twisted in your stomach.

Garcia had hacked into the cameras to allow you three to see what was going on during this take down. Spencer sat facing the camera.

Only moments after he’d been seated at the table did a petite woman walk up.

She was slim with a short, angled cut. Her dark hair seemed to be in perfect place, just like the fake smile she was showing. She was dressed in a form fitting teal, sleeveless dress. The bottom was embellished in some sort of sparkling beads or perhaps rhinestones. She looked harmless enough, but you knew better. Looks could be very deceiving.

“Reid, we have you over her left shoulder. Do you copy?”

You watch as your boyfriend briefly glances straight towards the camera and taps a quick, stealthy answer on the table, with two fingers.

“I already hate her,” you glowered at the screen, watching as her hand lingered on his arm, seduction written all over her face.

“Put the claws away tiger,” Penelope muttered.

“So, how far along is your wife?” the hit woman you now know was named Cat, asked.

You watch Spencer swallow nervously, playing the part of an apprehensive first time customer.

“A few months. Do you, uh mind if we don’t talk about her?”

Cat was quiet for a moment. You can’t see her face, but somehow you just know she’s studying him.

“Let me see your ring.”

He furrowed his brows, but took it off handing it to her.

“You say you’ve been married for four years, right Spencer?” She studies the band, turning it over in her hand.

“Yeah.”

“For a 24 karat ring, it sure looks rather cheap. Apparently she loves you as much as you love her,” she tossed the ring on the table with a clank.

“Also, if it were four years old, it’d look more worn, don’t you think?”

You hear a click over the audio. It sounded suspiciously like a gun cocking and your eyes widened in horror.

Penelope gasped.

“Is that what I think it was?”

“Yes,” Hotch answered her, “She knows.”

“You’re not married Spencer.” Her gun was pointing at him under the table, unbeknownst to the other diners in the restaurant.

“And guess what? I didn’t walk into your trap. You walked into mine.”

“Oh no,” Penelope breathed.

“I’ve got a gun pointed at your crotch right now, Spencer. What’s to stop me from taking you and the little ones out right now? It’d be such a shame; doesn’t Y/N want kids?”

“Hotch,” you growled, “He didn’t sign up for this.”

“He knows what he’s doing. Let him handle this. If it truly becomes a dire situation, we have backup in there with him.”

You pick at your nails, tuning back into Spencer and Cat’s conversation.

He ignored her remark, continuing to stare her down.

“You honestly think I’m dumb enough to waltz in here thinking you’re just another deadbeat asshole that’s tired of his wife? I know way more than you think I do. The BAU is the only one that got this close to us. But I’m still the only one left,” she smirked.

“Doesn’t mean anything. I’m good at what I do,” Spencer retorted.

“Tell me. Are you this cocky with Y/N?”

Your eyes narrowed, glaring at the screen.

“I’d love to shove my foot right up her-”

“Y/N,” Hotch chided.

“Sorry.”

She’d scooted around the booth closer to him, her hand sliding into his suit jacket and down his button down shirt. You couldn’t clearly see what she was doing, but you got the general idea. He jumped when her hand brushed his crotch before reaching into the waist of his pants, pulling out his gun with a smirk.

“So tell me, did you actually knock her up or was that just part of your cover? I mean unless you’re here to put a hit on her which is totally fine by me. I’m not one for commitment either.”

“You leave her out of this,” he growled, glaring at her.

“I bet you’re wondering how I know about her, right? Probably the same way I know that Blondie over there is part of your team, just waiting to take me down. Am I right?”

Spencer stayed quiet, his gaze hard on her.

“Do me a favor and tell her to take a hike will you?”

“Stand down,” Hotch says from next to you. You know enough about the plan to know that the entire team can hear messages from him here at the BAU.

You watched as JJ set the drink she’d been sipping on, down on the bar. She’d dressed in leather pants, a low cut black top with a quarter length sleeved, maroon fur jacket over it to appear as just another fancy dinner guest. She passed their table before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Thanks for playing, sweetie,” Cat smiled at her disappearing form.

“Now, tell me more about yourself Spencer. Why don’t you?”

Cat rested her chin in her hand and watched him, her gun laying by her side where she could have easy access to it.

“Don’t you already know all about me?”

“True,” she made a face, “Then tell me all about me.”

“Well, for one, you’re quite loquacious.”

“I’m gonna pretend that means sexy,” she grinned flirtatiously.

“Gag me with a spoon,” you mumbled.

“Now, like I said,” Cat continued, “Tell me about me.”

“You’re a psychopath that runs a different course than the rest of your fellow hit men. You like to be up close and personal, watch men lie and try to seduce them all before turning on them and killing them. Which in itself speaks to many deep rooted issues.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m just another woman with daddy issues?”

“You said it, not me.”

“So, how exactly did you find me?” She rested her chin on her laced fingers and cocked her head at him.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course.”

“Fine. It all started unraveling when we first took down what we thought was a lone hit man. One who specified in making hits look like accidents.”

You can hear Spencer still talking through the monitor as you paced back and forth behind Hotch and Garcia, your nerves getting the best of you.

You jump when you hear loud feedback from the mic.

“What was that?”

“She muffled the mic. We lost audio,” Penelope grimaced.

On the screen, you can see Cat’s hand on his tie, thumb over the microphone, her mouth moving as she says something to Spencer. He turns in the direction where Rossi was slyly approaching their table.

With a few words that were unheard to the three of you, Rossi backed off, heading towards the kitchen.

“She caught on to Dave being there too,” Hotch mumbled.

“Hotch, this is not going as you planned, is it?”

Your question remained unanswered and by the way his posture remained rigid you knew you were right. That did little to reassure you.

“Entropy reigns supreme in this whole situation,” you grumbled.

You looked over and saw Hotch and Garcia staring at you quizzically.

“What? Isn’t another definition for that, lack of order or predictability or gradual decline into disorder?”

Hotch arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I used it wrong. I’ve heard Spencer use it before. This is why he’s the genius and not me.”

Nothing else was said on the matter as you three’s attention was turned back to the screen where Cat was talking to Spencer again.

“I’ll let that slide considering I learned something important about you.”

“What’s that?” Spencer questioned.

“Your backup. I’ve flushed them out. It’s just you and me now.”

“Guess again, bitch,” you mumbled.

You knew, as well as the rest of the team, that Tara and Morgan were still in there.

“I know you’re stalling, but why?”

“Cause I know there has to be a pretty impressive crowd of agents out front, just waiting to take me down.”

“You’d be correct,” Spencer deadpanned.

“Which is why you’re going to walk me out of here. I get away with no issues and no one gets hurt. If not,” she paused.

She ran her fingertips over the gun that she’d moved to the table, just in his line of sight.

“I have a fully loaded gun that can do quite some damage.”

“You won’t do it though,” he challenged.

“Oh wouldn’t I?”

“No because shooting up a restaurant isn’t your style. You’re more calculated than that. You like less mess, more mind games.”

“So you do understand me, Spencer,” she smirked, “Then you’d understand that I need you to call off all the FBI agents so I can leave quietly.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Spencer shrugged, not breaking his eye contact from her, “I’m not letting you walk out of here if I have to hold you down myself.”

“Would you hold me down and leave bruises that wouldn’t go away?” she purred.

“Is that what you want?”

“I bet that’s what Y/N wants,” Garcia mumbled.

You opened your mouth to respond, not sure if she meant you doing bodily harm to Cat or your wanting Spencer to do that to you.

“Focus,” Hotch reprimanded.

“No, I want the agents cleared.” Her hand tightened on her piece.

“Everyone stand down,” Hotch ordered, “We let her walk. Reid let her go.”

“Well?” Cat pressed.

You saw him bite his lip, clearly trying to make up his mind what to do.

“Reid. Let her go.”

“Spencer?”

Cat was getting annoyed, that much you could tell and you knew she was definitely a person you didn’t piss off.

“Fine, you can go.”

She gathered her things, standing up to leave.

“But you won’t,” Spencer said.

She turned, gazing at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I found your father,” Spencer challenged.

“Reid, what are you doing?” Hotch asked, glancing at Garcia who just shrugged in response.

“Spencer, no,” you whispered, anxiety flooding your senses.

He was playing with fire and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to get burned.

“Tell me where he is,” Cat demanded.

“Sit down and I will.”

You glance at the two next to you.

“This wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“No,” came the terse answer from Hotch.

You see her sit once again across from Spencer.

“To prepare for tonight, I had to do my research on you,” he started.

“Is that so?”

“Lewis, Morgan, try to clear out the restaurant as subtly as possible. If this goes wrong, she could start shooting. I don’t want any injuries on my conscience tonight,” Hotch commanded.

You didn’t see their movement on the screen, but within a few minutes there were more than the normal amount of waiters moving along the tables.

“I found your father Cat,” Spencer continued, in effort to distract her.

“You’re lying.”

“Does it look like I’m lying?”

“No, but I know you are because I never mentioned that I found him myself. He’s been dead for years, Spencer.”

You saw her reach for her gun at the exact moment a commotion towards the front of the restaurant broke out. You couldn’t see on screen what was happening, but it was all the distraction she needed.

Hotch was barking orders and you heard Spencer shouting something to Morgan.

It was later you found out that against Lewis and Morgan’s wishes, someone—most likely a waiter—had started freaking out. Whether that caused the following events to happen or not you would never know, but it sure didn’t help them either.

“Oh my god,” Penelope gasped.

Your eyes were glued to the screen and the horrible events that were beginning to unfold.

Cat had Spencer by the arm and her gun was pointed directly at him. She had him in her claws and she wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

“Get everyone out of here!” Spencer hollered.

You heard the rest of the people fleeing the dining room, Tara aiding them, but you didn’t take your eyes off of Cat and Spencer.

“Well lookie here,” she grinned up at Spencer, “Back where we started. You and me and a gun.”

“We can talk this out,” Morgan said, slowly approaching, his gun still aimed Cat's way.

“I don’t know Agent Morgan,” she smirked, “I don’t like liars. How do I know that Spencer is true to his word? He’s already lied once.”

“Let him go and we’ll talk,” Morgan said.

“It’s too late for that.”

A loud crash came from the front of the restaurant. Distraction number two. You couldn’t tell if it had been planned by Cat or not, either way, it was her perfect moment to strike.

Multiple gunshots sounded.

Time slowed down.

Penelope cried out.

Hotch cursed.

You fell to your knees.

In a split second Cat had shot Spencer and he went down, bright red blood beginning to stain his dress shirt.

Shots were fired from Morgan’s gun. Tara went running after Cat, Morgan went running to Spencer’s side.

There was commotion on the screen. Tara came back in from the direction of the kitchen where Cat had run. Luck must have been on her side because she had disappeared into the night.

Everything changed in one quick moment.

Spencer had been shot and Cat had gotten away.

•

You had no memory of how you’d managed to get from the BAU to the hospital, but here you were, fidgeting in a chair, tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even had a chance to see him before you got to the hospital and you were wracked with worry with how he was.

The last thing you remembered was falling to the floor, your head feeling woozy as you tried to process what was unfolding before your eyes.

Spencer had been rushed into emergency surgery and you waited anxiously with the rest of the team in the waiting room. You were positive you hadn’t stopped shaking since you heard the gun go off.

The awful sound rang in your ears and every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Spencer falling to the ground, blood soaking his shirt.

You looked up when you heard the click of heels and saw JJ coming back with an update on Spencer. The look on her face sent a feeling of cold, icy, fear through your body.

“He didn’t make it,” she whispered.

A buzzing sound rang in your ears and you were sure you’d heard wrong.

“What?” you croaked.

“Spencer’s gone,” she choked out.

The guttural sobs that came from deep within you didn’t even sound human. Your anger and your pain melted into one.

Cat Adams would pay for this.

Tag List: @dreatine @reid-187 @groovyreid @reidslibra @suvikamahes98blr @fuckthealarm @whatspunispun @iamburdened @cindywayne @thomasfoockinshelby @tinyminy88 @theitcaramelchick @missprettyboy @hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977 @theonlyone-meeeee @haileymorelikestupid @lemonypink @multifandommandy

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid gifs #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid smut #cat adams #spencer and cat #Criminal Minds #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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asterekmess · 3 years

Text

Tag Game (yes again)

I’m just trying to get through these before I get sick of it and fuck off to play minecraft or write fix it fic. Big thanks again to @iwritesinsnotstraightlines for tagging me.

RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

Oh god, how am I supposed to pick??

Uhhhhhhh, okay, in No Particular Order:

1. Stop There and Let Me Correct It (85k, Mature, Fix-It Fic) Notes: Come all, you all knew it would be the first. It was published 2 days before the end of 2019 so I’m counting it as a 2020 fic. This is the first installment in my series rewrite of TW, and I adore it. The writing isn’t as good as later installments, but it satisfied some major itches that the canon gave me, so highly recommend.

2. Geata Rionnag SG-1 (14k, Teen, Stargate SG-1 AU) Notes: This isn’t one of my more popular fics, but it’s one that I’m super proud of. It took a lot of effort to adjust the Stargate mythos into something more appropriate for the cast, but I think I managed it. There’s not much Derek/Stiles interaction, but I loved the last scene.

3. The Sound of Silence (17k, Explicit, Sterek) Notes: I’m just astonished at managing to write this thing in one day and have it not be so plot-holey that I can stretch it like webbing. It was surprisingly solid and I’m proud of it.

4. Sex Therapy (51k, Explicit, Sterek) Notes: I worked on this for such a long time, and I was amazed when I actually managed to finish it. It’s made with love and it’s got a Lot of Love in it. Good times. :)

5. All Roads Lead to Home (42k, Mature, Sterek) Notes: This one is just a Nostalgia TRIP for me. Reading this is literally just me reliving most of my childhood, but adding in wee Stiles and wee Derek, and getting to watch them grow and get to know each other and see how much ‘Will They/Won’t They’ I could fit into it. Spoiler alert: It’s a lot. This is what I get for basing it off my own experiences (with a much different ending. you’re welcome.)

I really really hate tagging people, so if you’re a creator, please assume i’m tagging you!

#personal #tag game #personal writing promotion #go for it #anp rewrite

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dyaz-stories · 4 years

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Not How It’s Done — Four

One — Two — Three — ff.net

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Inuyasha could hear Hoshiki’s screams from outside as he neared Kagome’s apartment, and that immediately had him frowning. The kid was pretty calm usually, so it was unexpected to hear that, but he also realized that the cries had a strange mixture of fear, anger and helplessness that translated into a strong urge to stop them, to remove anything that could make the child unhappy.

He walked to her door quickly, knocked, and, when Kagome didn’t reply quite enough, he opened it. Fortunately, it wasn’t locked, otherwise he would probably have broken it. He frowned at the thought. She should lock her door, it really wasn’t careful not to and… and he couldn’t be so overprotective of her. He didn’t have any right to.

“Oh, hey, Inuyasha, I’m sorry, did you knock?”

Kagome walked towards him, holding the child against her. She was rocking him gently, clearly trying to soothe him, and that sight at least was reassuring. It sent a wave of tenderness through him. She was doing her best. That was short lived, however, as his sensitive nose picked up on the scent of blood. What was going on here?

“I’m so sorry,” Kagome started, trying to speak over Hoshiki’s cries. ”I know you were supposed to take him out, but he barely slept tonight and I don’t think it’s going to be much fun if he keeps—”

A particularly loud shriek had her wincing.

“—I don’t know how to help him,” she finished miserably. “It’s his teeth, I think.”

“His fangs,” Inuyasha realized out loud, and suddenly everything made sense.

That was always bad for demons — and half-demons, obviously. Their organism kept trying to heal them, and of course, the teeth still had to pierce the skin. They did grow them faster than humans, but it was known to be an absolute nightmare. He didn’t remember anything of that time, but his mother had mentioned it to him once or twice, and his brother’s wife had complained to him about it. He’d even helped with the kids back then.

“D’you want me to take him?”

Kagome let out a relieved sigh.

“You don’t mind? I’ve been up all night too and—”

“’s fine, c’mon buddy.”

He weirdly liked Kagome’s rambling, most of the time, but with Hoshiki’s screams in the background, he couldn’t say he enjoyed them. She did look exhausted, with bags under her eyes and messy hair. He took Hoshiki from him, and the kid calmed down, just a little, at his contact, but it mostly meant that his screams weren’t as loud.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized a second time. “I know this was supposed to be a day out for you and I’m sure you both looked forward to it, but I just couldn’t get him to sleep, I tried, really, but—”

She seemed to be on the verge of crying, and it was so unlike her that Inuyasha had no idea how to react. Why was she apologizing, exactly? There was nothing she could have done. The kid was in pain. Sure, it was unpleasant and painful, to know that he was suffering and there was nothing they could do about it, she probably hated it as much as he did, but they just had to wait it out.

“D’you have anything he could chew on, perhaps?” he asked, interrupting her somewhat awkwardly, not knowing how to handle it. “I know it helps for some kids, gives them something to focus on, though it ain’t gonna last long for a demon. I think my ‘ma had something like that for me.”

“Oh,” she said, and he saw her bit her lower lip and close her eyes briefly. “I didn’t think about that,” she mumbled with a quiet voice. “I’ll see if I have something.”

He watched her with worried eyes as she rummaged through cupboards. She looked close to her breaking point. As she stepped out of the kitchen, probably to go in Hoshiki’s room, he focused on the kid. Hoshiki was screaming and moving around in his arms.

“You look just as tired as your ‘ma,” Inuyasha commented. He knew Hoshiki liked it when he was resting against him and his voice rumbled through his chest, and indeed, he seemed to calm down a little when he talked. “Don’t you wanna go to sleep? ‘cause it seems to me like you need some. Give a break to your ‘ma. Don’t worry, we can reschedule our walk.”

Kagome walked back in, holding a rubber ring, and allowed herself to rest for just a second against the door, watching as Inuyasha rocked Hoshiki, talking to him gently. His voice didn’t change that much, when he spoke with the kid, which she found interesting. Most people talked to babies differently, and Inuyasha did have a deep, somewhat scary voice, but he didn’t change anything with Hoshiki, which she thought was great. He did, however, watch his language a little more, and she appreciated him all the more for it.

“I have something,” she said, approaching the pair, “but you’re right, it’s never going to last, and I’m afraid he’ll swallow some parts.”

Inuyasha took the ring from her hands. It was large enough that it wouldn’t fit entirely in his mouth, and it wasn’t like there much out yet.

“It’ll do. Why don’t ya take a second to— I dunno, eat or drink or something, and I’ll try to get him in bed?”

She nodded, looking grateful.

“Thanks, Inuyasha. I don’t know if you’ll be able to do it, but I— I really appreciate it.”

“Any time.”

After what felt like hours, Inuyasha finally managed to get Hoshiki to rest. With the help of the rubber and a lot of singing that rumbled through his chest, the kid’s eyes finally closed, though to be fair, he was probably way past his point of exhaustion. He laid him down very, very carefully, and as he did, he realized he was wearing the gloves he’d given to Kagome. That had him frowning briefly, until he understood.

Well, that explains the smell of blood. The kid was small, and he doubted his claws would have gone very deep, but still, he couldn’t control himself yet, and he’d probably hurt Kagome. The thought was unpleasant. Had he done that, too? Hurt his ‘ma? He hoped not.

He found Kagome dozing off at the table when he came back in, but she looked up and smiled at him quickly when he sat down, facing her.

“You did it!” she yawned. “He really, really needed some sleep. At this point, I think he was crying from exhaustion as much as from pain.” Then, her face crumpled a little. “God, this is going to last for days, isn’t it? My poor baby…”

“Hey,” he said, instinctively reaching out over the table to take her hand in his, the gesture so natural that it almost scared him, “it’s gonna be fine, ‘kay? I mean, it does hurt like a bitch, but it’ll also be over in just a few days. I mean, ’til he grows the next one, but let’s take it once at a time, alright? Just make sure he doesn’t rip the rubber to shreds.”

She nodded, laughing a little.

“Thank God you don’t talk like that around him.”

He scoffed, but still chuckled. Yeah, it wouldn’t be too great if the first words Hoshiki learned were parts of his vocabulary.

Kagome squeezed his hand in hers.

“Thanks, Inuyasha,” she said softly. “And again, really, I’m super sorry that—”

“Stop apologizing already woman,” he practically growled, and her eyes widened at the sound.“It’s not like there’s much you could have done.”

“I mean, I could have given him—”

“Kagome. Stop beating yourself up about that. You’re doing everything you can, right? And it ain’t like you’re taught ‘bout how to rise a demon, are ya?”

She shook her head wordlessly.

“So this isn’t your fault and— ah, don’t cry!”

Shit. Shit shit shit. Him and his big mouth. He hadn’t meant to cause that, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with her.

“I’m sorry,” she said yet again, only sobbing this time, “I don’t mean to cry, I’m just really tired and I— I feel like I’m being such a terrible mom, and I couldn’t do anything to help him, and you made it work really easily so clearly, I could have done better and—”

Ah, fuck. In just one step, he was in front of her. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him as she cried. She held onto him, fingers digging in his shirt. He simply let her, hands moving on her back, trying to get her to calm down. He just wanted to comfort her, wanted her to be okay, and yet he couldn’t help but think about how nicely she fit in his arms, and about how he liked that. Holding her.

It wasn’t the fucking time for those thoughts.

When she moved back, she quickly wiped her tears away. She felt a bit ridiculous for the whole thing. She hadn’t meant to push all of her emotions onto Inuyasha. Poor guy really hadn’t signed for that. They were Hoshiki’s parents, of course, but they didn’t exactly do their thing together. Not that she hated the idea of them being… partners, or something, but she still hadn’t meant to lose it like that. Sometimes, things just got hard.

“Feeling better?” Inuyasha asked, patting her head somewhat awkwardly.

She laughed, a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah. Sorry I—”

“You really need to stop apologizing. You’re doing a fucking fantastic job here. I know demon mothers who knew that shit was coming, and you handled it a thousand better than them.”

Well, better than Kagura, at least, and he supposed that wasn’t too hard, but she didn’t need to know that. She smiled again, and he nodded, satisfied. She should be fine with a good night of sleep. But first…

“Did he scratch ya?”

She blinked, and then he watched as her hand went to rub her arm.

“Oh, yes, he did, but it’s nothing too bad, really, and I gave him his gloves, so…”

“Yeah. Y’should let him keep it. ’s good if he didn’t do much, but he can still hurt ya.” His face was surprisingly somber as he said that, and it almost made Kagome want to ask questions, but she held them back. She was way too tired to have an actual conversation, but one of these days… They would really need to have one. “And you can always, y’know, call me, if things get too hard.”

She gave him a bright, sincere smile at that. She had to admit, she was impressed by how he stuck around, even when things were complicated. He wasn’t just there for the bright, happy, easy moments of Hoshiki’s life. He was genuine about wanting to be involved in every aspects. Even the ones that were far from brilliant.

“Now ya should get some sleep, too,” he said when she yawned again. “I can stay here, if ya don’t mind?”

“I don’t. You can— watch TV or— I have some books— or—”

“I’ll handle myself,” he shrugged. If she didn’t get herself to bed now, she was just going to fall down from exhaustion. “And I’ll take care of Hoshiki if he wakes up, so don’t ya worry ‘bout it, okay?”

Her smile softened as she watched him. Who’d have thought, huh? The tall, broad-shouldered half-demon with the tough exterior and the crude language. Taking care of his kid, and of her, though she wasn’t his anything.

She didn’t think much when she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you, Inuyasha. For everything you did for us today.”

It took him a couple of seconds to find his voice again.

“Yeah. Whatever. Now go.”

She laughed, missing the fact that she was the reason he was reacting, that he was blushing, and that he was avoiding her eyes.

“G’night,” she mumbled on her way out, though it was the middle of the day.

“Good night,” he mumbled back.

The second her door was closed, he let himself fall on the couch, hand covering his face. This was— He was ridiculous. This shouldn’t affect him this much. This shouldn’t affect him at all. They had a fucking baby together, and he was losing it at a kiss? It made no fucking sense. He made no fucking sense. Nothing fucking made sense here.

He growled loudly, grabbed the remote control, and turned the TV on, trying to think about something else. Trying to think about anything but how he liked to hold her, how he was glad she’d kissed him, and how he was starting to think that he wouldn’t mind, if she did it again.

Damn. He was fucked.

Okay, hope you liked this new (and kinda short) installment in this little series! This was written extremely quickly so I hope it’s good, it had been on my mind all day and I’m glad I managed to finish it ^-^ They were actually supposed to have the conversation Kagome hints at in this chapter but then it just... didn’t happen. Anyway, really hope you enjoyed this, it was really pleasant to write, and I will see you soon for more Inukag!

#inuyasha #kagome #inukag #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction #my writing #pregnant from a one night stand au

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