#rooftop fight is gonna be in my head for the rest of my LIFE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

quintinh43 · 1 month

Note

a blurb/fic of Quinn and elem school teacher and them “fighting” over paying for something!

Thank you for requesting, I had so much fun writing this 🥰

It was an unnaturally hot day in mid-April in Vancouver. People were treating it as of was a summer day in July. Everyone was out in shorts and dresses, having picnics or tanning, or swimming in spring chilled water of the Pacific.

You and Quinn were no exception. The beautiful day had coordinated with one of Quinns' rest days, which had all miraculously fallen on a Saturday. Meaning you didn't have to work. All in all, it was a very happy coincidence that you and Quinn decided to take full advantage of.

Quinn had proposed going out for breakfast, which had turned into going out for brunch because Quinn kept getting distracted by how gorgeous you looked in your floral printed sundress. He had eventually just tossed you onto the couch, bunched your dress around your hips, and ate you out till you were shaking beneath him.

Brunch was amazing. Quinn took you to an outdoor rooftop restaurant that served the best waffles you had ever eaten. When you leaned across the table with a piece of waffle on your fork for Quinn to try, he grinned and winked at you as he closed his lips over the fork suggestively.

Your cheeks flush all the way down to your chest and it made Quinn's grin grow even wider. After brunch the two of you decide to walk the coastline. You hand is wrapped around Quinn's arm as the two of you walk the park, playing the game of trying to decipher the detailed life stories of strangers.

"Oh, ice cream!" You jump excitedly pointing at the ice cream stand that has a long line, "please, Quinn, can we?" You ask, eyes glittering with hope.

Quinn chuckles, "of course we can baby," he says pressing a kiss to your forehead. It's the moments like this that make him wonder why it took him so long to tell you he loved you.

You tug him over the the line, chattering excitedly about the prospective flavours. Where you were always down to try a new flavour, Quinn stuck with what he liked. He would never tell you, but one of the reasons he did it was so if you were disappointed in the flavour you got, he would trade with you because he knew you also liked his flavour.

"Ooh Quinn! I think they have raspberry white chocolate!" You grin shaking his arm eagerly.

"That what you gonna get?" He asks, unable to keep the smile off his face. Seeing you happy makes him happy. And with the combination of the sunny weather, he can't keep the smile off his face.

"I don't know yet, I'll decide when we get there. What are you getting?"

"Take a wild guess," he snorts, flicking you in the forehead.

"Meanie," you huff, bumping his chin with your head playfully.

Soon enough it's your turn to order, "I'll have a scoop of strawberry cheesecake in a waffle cone, and he'll have a scoop of cookie dough in a waffle cone as well, please."

The poor teenage girl who looks like she hates her life, scribbles down your order with a nod. You shuffle around your purse for your card, but Quinn is already slapping a twenty dollar bill on the counter.

You snatch it off the counter quickly with a glare, and slap your card in its place. Quinn grabs your card off the table and replaces it with another bill thats gone just as fast as the first one. The girl looks ready to strangle you both. Quinn pulls out another twenty, and half wrestles you out of the way while he hands it to the girl directly.

"Keep the change," he mumbles apologetically, dragging you out of line to wait for your ice cream.

"Quinn," you turn on him with a glare, "what was that for?"

Quinn plays confused, "What do you mean?"

"I was going to pay!" You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Quinn rolls his eyes, mimicking your position.

"Babe, please, not this again." He groans

"Quinn, I asked you to get ice cream, that means I have to pay." You grumble.

"I say this with all my love babe," Quinn says squishing your cheeks between his calloused palms, "That's a stupid fucking rule. I'm your boyfriend, I'm always gonna pay."

"But I don't want-"

"I have a strawberry cheese cake, and a cookie dough in waffle cones?" The girl calls out, cutting your arguemnt short.

You smile, at her thankfully while Quinn grabs the ice cream. He hands you yours and slings his arm over your shoulders as the two of you continue your walk.

"Why does it bother you so much when I pay for things?" Quinn asks seriously, taking a lick of his ice cream.

"I'm a grown adult." You say grumpily, "I can pay for my own things."

Quinn flicks your ear, "Don't give me that bullshit. Tell me why it bothers you so much."

"I feel bad," you mumble.

"Why do you feel bad?" Quinn pushes, offering you a lick of his ice cream. You take it gratefully, offering yours in return. Quinn happily takes a lick, humming in approval.

"Dunno, I just do" You shrug, "I don't want you wasting your money on me."

Quinn looks slightly offended "Baby, its not a waste. I love paying for you. If you wouldn't kill me for it do you know how long ago I would've given you a credit card on my account?"

"Oh God, please never do that," you groan, covering your face with your free hand.

"You still haven't given me a real reason as to why you don't like it when I pay." He says again, fingers tracing comforting shapes on your collarbones.

You sigh, head dropping against his shoulder, "I don't want everyone to see me as a the girl who's with you cause of your money."

Quinn looks at you incredulously, "are you serious?"

You nod sheepishly.

"Babe, who gives a fuck what random strangers think? You're my girl, I wanna spoil you in every way possible."

"I know, I know, but for some reason, it really gets to me." You sigh.

"Well, you'd better stop letting it get to you because I'm paying for everything for the rest of our lives," Quinn says dramatically.

You snort, elbowing him in the ribs lightly, "ok, hot shot."

"Seriously baby, if that's the only reason, don't let it bother you."

"I'll try," you say, taking a bite of your cone.

"You'd better." He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Suddenly, there's something cold sliding down your cheek. You can help but screech, jumping away from Quinn. He's laughing as you thumb a glob of cookie dough ice cream off your face.

"How dare you!" You gasp, licking the ice cream off your thumb. You dip your finger into your ice cream to retaliate, but before you can wipe it on his face, he's grabbing your wrist and sucking your ice cream coated ginger into his mouth. Your brain short-circuits, cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red.

Quinn smirks around your finger and lets it fall from his lips. "What's wrong, baby?" He teases, like he didn't just do what he did in public.

"You are so bad," you mutter, still blushing.

"Only for you baby," he grins, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, "only for you."

A blurb from this universe

#loving you is as easy as abc 123 #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #hughes brothers #quinn hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #vancover canucks #nhl blurb #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #hockey imagine #hockey blurb

354 notes · View notes

pink-bandana-writes · 1 year

Text

The Secret Girlfriend

Raphael x Reader

Summary: When the boys save a human girl from some muggers, they expect her to scream, not rush into their brother’s arms.

Note: Watching OotS rn and this popped into my head. Enjoy <3

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Word Count: 0.4k

Reader is: Female

It was a seemingly ordinary night in New York City. Well, as normal as it could be for the guys when they were out on patrol. They swept the streets, looking for signs of trouble until, as usual, they found it. A scream erupted from one of the alleys and they sprung into action, jumping down from their spot on the rooftops.

A mugger. No, three of them and one helpless college girl, fighting them off as best as she could, which was to say, not very well.

“Hey! Why don’t’cha pick on someone yer own size?” Raph all but growled, causing the nearest of the muggers to back off, intimidated by his height and the depth of his voice alone. Leo, Donnie, and Mikey helped him scare off the other two easily, and when they were done, all that was left was you, the helpless, human girl.

Leo braced for impact. Any second, you’d catch sight of the monsters in the alley and scream. But instead of a scream, like the brothers were expecting, instead, recognition flashed across your features.

“Raph!” You sighed in relief, rushing into the arms of the towering turtle. You held onto him tight. “Oh my god.”

“(Y/N).” He cradled you against himself, a large hand stroking through your hair as he held you. “Ya alright? I didn’t realize it was you.”

“I’m okay.” You assured him, pulling away to look at his face. “Are you okay?”

He grinned, confident. “I’m bulletproof, babe. Of course I’m alright.”

“My very own Superman.” You murmured, hugging him again, face resting in the crook of his neck as your heartrate slowly returned to normal.

“Um…Raph?” Leo asked, clearing his throat. “Care to explain?”

“Oh right…” Raph chuckled, looking up at his brothers. “Guys, this is (Y/N). My girlfriend. (Y/N), these are my brothers.”

“Nice to meet you, finally.” You smiled, shy. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Raph, you…have a secret girlfriend?” Mikey asked. “No way!”

“Yeah, uh…I was gonna tell ya soon, I just…” He shrugged. “Needed the quiet for a bit.”

“Does Sensei know?” Leo asked, crossing his arms.

“Nah, but April does.” Raph shrugged.

“She’s really nice.” You added. “We get coffee sometimes.”

“You do?” Raph asked, looking down at you.

You nodded. “Mmhmm. We’re getting our nails done next week.”

Leo glanced around. “Hey we better get going.” He looked at you, still skeptical, but polite nonetheless. “You’re welcome to come with.”

“Can I?” You asked, looking up at Raph, stars sparkling in your eyes. “I’m…that was really scary. I’m kinda shaken up.”

“Yeah, of course, baby.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Leo’s eyes widened. Never in his life had he seen his big brute of a brother so gentle. So you had him whipped, whipped.

“We can order pizza! We’ve got a bunch of movies and video games.” Mikey smiled, his face welcoming. “It’ll be alright, girl.”

“Thank you.” You laughed, nodding. “I’d really like that.”

Tagged: @thelaundrybitch, @turtle-babe83, @dilucsflame33, @happymoonangel, @leleouwu

#raph #tmnt aged up #tmntagedup #bayverse #tmnt #raph x reader #raphael x reader #raphael #raph tmnt #bayverse raph #tmnt imagine #tmnt imagines

1K notes · View notes

godlessandwrecked · 2 years

Text

good bad luck | p. parker

the black cat — a master burglar who has come swinging into peter’s life like a fist, to snap him out of it with witty comments and breath-taking punches. even when he thinks he hates her, he absolutely adores her, and unfortunately for him, he’s failed to realize he’s falling until he’s inches off the ground…

PAIRING: peter parker (mcu) x blackcat! fem reader

WORD COUNT: 6k

CONTENTS: post nwh, peter’s pov, pining and blushy messy peter, some suggestive stuff but mostly sfw, a lot of cute banter and a heist? also, i mention the cat has white hair like once, but she’s completely self-insertable, just like the rest of my fics!

A/N: tried to be as loyal to the black cat as I could because I adore her in the comics, but I totally made her my own here for the sake of having a version that would make sense with a younger Peter :) first time writing for Tom’s Peter and I’m: scared. ok enjoy <3

Peter’s number one, most hated, vilest enemy he’s fighting nowadays is… biochemistry. And he’s losing, by a lot. Not because he doesn't possess the capabilities to defeat said enemy, but because New York City doesn’t give him a damn rest, and he’s exhausted.

In the few months he’s been in college, to no one’s surprise, he’s already managed to be late on a pile of assignments. He doesn’t have the time to work on them, and even when he does and sits down to get on with it, it’s like his brain won’t stop running.

It should be easy for him—he’s good at it and he’s passionate about it, after all—but he can’t focus on the task at hand. His brain keeps shifting back to the city, to the rooftops, to the people who need his help, to her, and suddenly his cheeks start heating up and he’s back to thinking of how good it would feel to swing around the city, with the sun behind him and the wind whizzing by, clearing his mind of everything.

Peter huffs, clicking the delete key on his run-down laptop until the two lines he’s managed to write in the last half an hour disappear from the document, leaving it blank once more. His suit stares back at him from the other side of the room, laying on a chair, the goggles on his mask ogling at him, as if begging him to please put it on and take it out for a stroll.

For a few seconds he thinks he’s actually going to give in, but then he shakes his head, reprimanding himself and murmuring a No. No, Peter. No. He can’t keep avoiding his responsibilities, he needs to get the assignment done. College is far too expensive for him to throw it all away just to swing around like a monkey. He’ll have plenty of time to do that later.

He accommodates back on his chair, cracks his knuckles, and is about to begin typing away when–

Tap tap tap.

His head shoots to his right, facing the window where the sound has come from, to be met with nothing but that—the window. Chastising himself for getting distracted once more, he returns to his work, thinking it must have been the wind, or a knocking next-door.

But as soon as he looks away, there it is again, tap tap tap on the glass.

He turns on his chair once more, expecting nothing again, but gives a little jump at what he sees, surprisingly startled.

A head hangs upside down from the top of his window, wide eyes staring at him through even bigger spectacles, hair the color of snow flowing in the breeze.

He furrows, “Again?”

She waves happily, still upside down, and points at the lock on the window, asking him to let her in. She could bust it open easily—she is the best cat burglar ever, after all—but she doesn’t want to get him in trouble with his landlord. Not again.

“What are you doing?” he asks, slightly annoyed as she jumps over the windowsill and into his one-room apartment.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asks with that playfulness that comes naturally to her, even in the worst of situations.

“I told you not to come around here, Cat. Someone could see you.”

“So what? No one’s gonna think you,” a sharp fingernail pokes at his chest, “Of all people, are Spider-Man.”

“Wow, thank you. A lot. That’s really kind.”

“I’m joking, Spider. Who’s gonna see me hanging out of your window on a 4th story, anyway?”

“My neighbors? I don’t know. Don’t do it again.”

“Relax, Spider-Boy. I won’t,” she rolls her eyes, and he knows reprimanding her is of no use. She’ll do it again whenever she pleases.

Peter’s eyes follow her as she moves around his apartment comfortably, opening up cabinets in search of food, running her fingers over the notes on biophysical chemistry on his kitchen counter, straightening up items here and there. He watches with narrow eyes as she finds a pack of cookies and pops one into her mouth, sitting down on his bed.

How has this become his life? Two months ago they were kicking each other’s asses out in the cold, and now she’s laying on his pillow. He’s not sure if he likes it or it unnerves him, how naturally it comes to her to invade his personal space.

“What are you up to? Wanna go out for a stroll?” she asks, still chewing.

“No. I’m doing school work.”

“Okay.”

They sit in silence while he waits for her to get the hint and leave, but she doesn’t, just stares at him. So he stares back, blinking awkwardly, arms crossed, and then cocks his head toward the window.

“Oh, you want me to leave?” she realizes.

“Well, yeah, I have things to do.”

“I’ll be really quiet,” she shakes her head, a grin on her face. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Sure.

He’s probably going to regret this, but how can he tell her no? She’s not going to leave either way, and the more he presses, the more she’ll do the exact opposite. He knows her well by now.

For a few minutes, as he stares at the blinking cursor on his screen, he actually believes he’s going to get some work done, but he can hear the tapping of her fingers on the leather of her suit, the steady up and down of her breathing, and if he concentrates hard enough, even the fluttering of her lashes. It’s driving him nuts.

His brain is foggy, and he’s itching for that freedom only the free-falling can provide him with. And he’s thinking of last week, when they played tag over Queens, swinging and chasing each other around narrow alleys and crowded streets. It’s just what he needs, exactly what the doctor ordered.

Peter gets up from his chair abruptly, closing his laptop and already reaching for his suit, “Okay, let’s go.”

And they’re stumbling back onto a rooftop, giggling and out of breath. This in particular is the one they favor, one that overlooks Central Park, and a little further away, the Empire State, peeking its pointy head over the less impressive skyscrapers.

They sit at the edge, legs dangling off the ledge, watching as the sun sets and hides behind the buildings in the distance, recalling the amazing stunt she’d pulled by swinging off his web and landing flawlessly on her feet.

It’s funny how things work. She found out about his identity completely by accident two months ago, catching him half naked in an alley, all bloody, with his suit torn and no mask on. “I knew you were cute, Spider,” was all she said as she offered him a hand to help him back home, and ever since then, they’d grown closer.

Now that she’s on his side–at least, most of the time–he finds himself enjoying his patrolling nights. Their nights together. Sometimes he even catches himself looking forward to the sun setting, running back home from class, dying to get into his suit just to do this. And he likes doing it with her. He’d spent so much time alone, he’d forgotten how good it felt to just be around somebody, no matter how bothersome they are.

It really does mess with his head, because technically, he’s not supposed to like her. She’s been trouble from the start, and she’s made things more complicated for him countless times, but he has so much fun with her. And sure, if he doesn’t think about the morality of her profession, she’s the best partner he could ask for.

“These are really good,” he points out, scrolling through the pictures she’d taken of him mid-air on his second-hand camera.

He’s been selling pictures of Spider-Man to The Bugle for a couple months now. It’s a job he’d rather not do—after all, they do literally hate his guts over there—but it’s one he has to do if he wants to keep a roof over his head. At least, now he doesn’t have to tape his camera to a wall to take his pictures. She does the job for him.

“I have many talents.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he says absentmindedly.

Her brow shoots up, “Can you, now?”

His slow brain doesn’t realize she’s messing with him until a few seconds later, when he sees through the teasing smirk on her face and her comment downs on him. “I mean, thank you.”

“You’re so easy,” she laughs in a bright smile that reminds Peter a little too much of pure sunshine, pointing out his reddening cheeks. “Anyway, wanna make out?”

“Wh- what?” he chokes out. Did he hear correctly?

“I said: do you wanna get takeout?”

“I don’t think that’s what you said.”

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

He’s sure his face is bright red at this point. Now he’s really wishing he hadn’t taken his mask off. She’s messing with him again, and he’s fallen for it, again. How embarrassing. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Do you have a thing for me blushing or…?”

“You are just so damn cute, Spider,” she bumps his shoulder, leaning into him slightly.

She blinks slowly, her lashes fluttering softly, and Peter starts shaking.

Maybe not literally, but on the inside, it feels like every cell on his body is vibrating, shaking away, like turbulence on an airplane, and he feels like he’s about to crash. It’s too late to worry about a bad landing, because he’s already trying to shove his wildly beating heart back into his ribcage before it spills out through his mouth.

Fortunately for him, just as he feels himself shifting forward the slightest bit, before he dares do something stupid, she stands up in a gush of energy and leaps onto the ledge of the roof.

She walks along the dangerously narrow path, putting one foot in front of the other with cat-like grace, her arms spread out. He knows her balance is quite literally perfect, knows she would never fall, and if she did, she would land on her feet, and yet, he can’t help it, it comes out of his mouth, easy as breathing, “Be careful.”

She turns around to face him, a smile on her face that is as sweet as is dangerous; a double edged sword. “Would you catch me? If I fell?”

“Always.”

And he means it, of course he does. She’s the closest thing he’s had to a friend the past few months, the only person who has been around, getting to know Spider-Man, and now Peter Parker alike.

After losing everything he’d ever had, he felt lost, angry and lonely. And that’s when she came around, swinging into his life like a fist, to slap him back into the world of the living and fill him with something other than grief.

Those first few months, when he chased her around the city, hoping to catch her with her hands on the smoking gun, he felt alive again. And then everything changed between them, and she went from foe to friend.

Now he can’t think about patrolling without thinking of her. He can’t picture the night without an image of her popping into his head, with her bratty attitude and wolfish grin, about to make a comment that will turn his ears pink. But he enjoys it, how she fills up the silence, how warm he feels next to her. Sometimes that warmth is anger and annoyance, sometimes it’s other things. Things he doesn’t dare admit, at least not yet.

She doesn’t say anything at his answer, even though he’s well aware that it sounds more like a confession than an offhand comment. If it has affected her in any way that isn’t prideful, she doesn’t let it show, just smiles triumphantly.

She’s got him wrapped around her finger, and she knows it. And maybe he’s in deeper than he thought he was. Maybe.

•••

A week of absolutely no distractions and assignment after assignment has given Peter a lot of time to think about various things. He’s come to a few realizations:

He should probably not take off his mask when he’s around the Cat, just so he won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him blush anymore.

College really is just not worth it.

He can’t live off of cheese strings and coffee.

College is not worth it again.

There’s a criminal organization in New York he needs to take down sooner than later.

Maybe he should’ve gone grocery shopping first, but he’s already barging into their shared rooftop, letting go of the web that swung him there to walk up to the Cat, already waiting for him and picking at her long nails.

“We’re gonna steal something!”

“Hello to you, too. Did you say “We”?” she grins, instantly intrigued. “That’s very immoral of you, Spidey.”

Normally, yes, he would find it immoral, but this is an exception. He’s been thinking about it for over a month now, and every time he runs it over in his head, it becomes more and more clear that he needs her expert hand if he wants it to be successful.

“It’s for the greater good.”

“Okay. What are we stealing?

“Just some records. Numbers. Proof.”

“Records,” her brow shoots up. “From whom?”

Peter kisses his cheek, dreading this moment, and whispers the answer through his teeth, almost inaudibly as he scratches at the nape of his neck. She gets a little closer to him, her inquisitive look piercing right through him, “Huh? You’re gonna have to speak a little louder. I don’t have your abilities, Spidey.”

“The Maggia.”

Her eyes widen. “The Maggia? Yeah, no, thank you,” she turns away from him and starts to walk in the opposite direction. “Already did that once and it was…not good.”

Maybe he doesn’t need need her help, but she is really good at what she does, and besides, he wants her by his side. Of course, he’s not about to tell her that, no need to feed her ego.

“Please,” he pouts under the mask, holding her back by her wrist so she doesn’t walk away from him. Begging doesn’t work with her, not at all, but he can try. “I can’t do it without you.”

Her stance softens at that, so she sighs, annoyed, “You know I’m all about being reckless, but not without a good reason. So what’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you’re going to help a lot of people by overthrowing organized crime?”

“Ugh,” her nose scrunches up in disgust.

“Why do you always need to get something out of it? We have a deal, don’t we? You help me sometimes, and I overlook your ‘visits’ to the Guggenheim,” he says, making air-quotes.

“Why do you care about that, anyway? I’m like Robin Hood.”

“You’re the British Museum at best.” She gasps, looking extremely offended for a few seconds, her hand over her heart, so he clarifies, “You don’t take from the rich to give to the poor.”

“Yes, I do. The rich being,” she makes a vague gesture with her hand, as if batting away some fly. “And the poor being me, of course.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Whatever you say.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, catching her before she tries to divert the conversation. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Her eyes roll, “Well, if I must…”

Barely a few hours later, once the sun has set, the crescent moon providing them with enough coverage in the shadows, they’re already on the go, towards the outskirts of the city.

It only takes them a few minutes to get to their destination, and once they do, they wait, watching the entrance of the property from their hiding place in the heights, observing in silence and coming up with their plan of action.

“Rooftop, you think? The skylight?” asks Peter.

“Yeah, that’ll be the quickest and safest way. You web me down, I’ll get whatever I can find. Nobody will even notice we were here. Easy as that.”

“Are you sure? I should go in with you.”

“No. They probably have security systems you won’t be able to recognize or avoid. I’ll go in. You keep watch.”

“I really think I should go in with you. What if–”

“Spider,” she interrupts him, getting closer to him until they’re face to face, inches away. “Let me do my thing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Peter is not particularly fond of this plan, but she’s the expert at this sort of thing, so he follows after her, silently swinging past the guards patrolling the perimeter and landing on the rooftop unnoticed. Once they reach the skylight at the center of it, she pulls a pin out of her suit and starts fumbling with the lock with expert hands.

Nearly two seconds later, it pops open, “Ta-da!”

“Wow. You are really good at that.”

“The best,” she announces happily. “Alright, pull me down.”

They manage to create some sort of make-shift harness out of his webs, wrapping them around her waist tightly so he’ll be able to hold her easily and bring her in and out of the facility with no problem. Once they’re done, she jumps down into the building with no hesitation, and he steadies himself, bending his knees and planting his feet firmly on the floor to hold her up.

And damn her, because even now, as he slowly lowers her down the skylight, she looks beautiful, with the moon shining down on her, her body contorting on the web to keep herself steady, her doe eyes looking up at him, instructing him to go a little slower now, more to the right then.

The Cat has many good qualities and abilities, but Peter found out very quickly that the weapon she wields the best is her beauty—a perfectly angled knife that slashes through him, punctures his lungs and leaves him gasping for air. It’s the one thing he hasn’t learnt how to dodge yet.

“Spider?” she asks suddenly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Sorry,” he clears his throat and resumes his job in aiding her to rappel down. “Got distracted.”

“Why? Do you like what you see? Is that what it is?” she purrs, obviously trying to make him tick. He’s not falling for it this time.

“Sure. Indiana Jones could never,” he jokes, and unfortunately it’s true. He might have the style, but he doesn’t have the elegance nor the effortlessness of the Black Cat. “What do you see?”

“Give me a second. It’s too dark.”

“You can’t be too far off the ground, can you?” It’s just a warehouse. “Can you?” he asks again, but there’s no answer, so he tries once more, “Cat?”

No answer still. Was this part of the plan? Wasn’t he supposed to get confirmation that she’d made it in? Sure, they didn’t talk about that, but isn’t it a normal thing to check on? Now he can’t recall what they’d discussed and his palms are starting to get sweatier and sweatier by the minute.

She told him to wait and keep watch, but he can’t just sit back. He has no business getting so worried, so quickly, but he’s not the most patient person, and he doesn’t like a single one of the hundred different scenarios that are rushing through his mind right now.

So he jumps into the building, with no thought in him but his partner getting hurt or taken or worse. And two seconds later as he lands on a dark hallway, just like she said he would, he triggers some sort of alarm, and the whole building goes on full blast, blaring a high pitched noise, bright red flashing lights and all.

“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath.

Peter doesn’t know what to do except run, instead of back through the skylight, right down the hallway, in search of The Cat. Just when he rounds out the corner, running frantically like a maniac, he slams hard against something, sending him almost straight to the floor.

“Peter?”

“Oh, thank God, you’re okay,” he places his arms on her shoulders to ground himself, relieved once he sees her, safe and sound.

“What did you do?” she asks, annoyed, over the deafening sound of the alarm.

“You weren’t answering! So I came in.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Red light illuminates her face, matching her annoyance. “I was doing my job. You clearly didn’t do yours very well.”

“Uh, excuse me, lady, for worrying about you.”

“Get us out of here, Spider. Out, out,” she taps his shoulders.

They run back down the hallway, to make their way out of the skylight once more, and he’s wrapping his arm around her waist to swing them both out and away when-

A bullet whizzes past them, making them jump.

“Holy fu-”

“You!” Two burly men in suits are sprinting down the corridor towards them, guns pointed, fingers on the trigger and ready to shoot again.

Peter tugs at her hand to get her out of there, but she steps in front of him instead, on the line of fire.

“Watch out! Faulty construction!” she yells out in a mocking tone, and somehow, the whole ceiling panel ahead of them breaks away and tumbles down onto the men, knocking them down and burying them under plaster. “Oops!”

Peter’s eyes widen, weirdly impressed. Those bad luck powers truly are something.

And as soon as he’s about to praise her and her little stunt, a whole group of mobsters round the corner, marching at them with all kinds of weapons ready to fire. They’re way too many to fight on their own, so like real heros do in times of trouble, they make a run for it.

“Hold on tight!” His arm wraps around her waist as her legs wrap around his, and Peter leaps out of the skylight, carrying them both out into the night.

A bullet whizzes by way too close to them, cutting through the air and making his hair stand on end as he shoots out a web to propel them towards the edge of the building. He jumps off the railing, the arm around her tightening its grip, and for a couple of seconds where time stands completely still, they’re free falling, and falling, and falling, until Peter shoots out another web, preventing them from slamming onto the pavement.

He swings them back to his apartment, his mood souring further the closer they get, guilt starting to creep in as the adrenaline washes away. Perching her gently on the window ledge, he allows her to crack it open and let them in easily, too defeated to even try to argue about it.

He rips his mask off as soon as he steps in, throwing it across the room carelessly. “Damn it,” he barks frustratedly, kicking the floor. “I messed it up, didn’t I? I almost got us killed.”

“You did,” she nods her head, adjusting the fur on her collar. “But it was fun. A little run in with the mob is always good. Could’ve gone worse.”

“Fun? They were firing multiple guns at us. That wasn’t fun, that was insane!”

“Spider-”

“That was all my fault! I almost- How could I be so stupid?”

“I can assure you, you can get stupider. it wasn’t that big of a deal,” she tries to cut in again, but Peter keeps on frantically pacing, his breathing getting agitated, his face blotchy.

“I didn’t listen. I should’ve listened to you.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh my god! I put you in danger! I fucked up and I put you in danger and it was all for nothing-”

“Peter!”

Now, that shuts him right up.

“I swear to God, you better shut up right now.”

But he’s so caught off guard that he wouldn’t be able to speak even if he tried.

Peter.

She has never called him that. Never by his name. Always Spider, sometimes Spidey, other times any weird name that crosses her mind. Never Peter. And he doesn’t understand why he’s so shocked by it, but he guesses it’s because it’s been a while since he’s heard his name coming out of the mouth of a friend.

And the realization is soul-crushing.

He’s too preoccupied with that to process anything else she’s saying or to notice how she’s ruffling through her pockets in search of something.

“Hey!” she snaps her fingers to get his attention. “Who said it was for nothing, huh?” she purrs, a smirk on her face, and in her hand, between her index and thumb, a shiny, silver pendrive, glinting in the dim light, like the final quest reward in some videogame.

He takes it from her and studies it in his hand, fascinated with the little token and even more fascinated by her and her abilities and how she somehow keeps surprising him again and again. “Cat, I could kiss you right now.”

“All in its right time,” she laughs, sitting beside him on the end of his bed, her hand on his shoulder. “I told you I had your back if you had mine, didn’t I? When I found out,” she points at his face. “I meant it. Don’t beat yourself up. We did this together. I know you don’t like me most of the time, but-”

“Don’t say that. I do. Like you. All of the time.”

How could he not? Even back when he thought he hated her, he adored her. Cherished every second they spent together, throwing punches and kicking each other in the shins, throwing witty and snarky comments back and forth like daggers.

Bold and brass, she’d shaken him awake from a deep slumber. Not gently like the warmth of the early morning sun on your closed eyelids would, heating up your chilling bones; but more like the punching shock and the grimace that follows after sucking on a lemon. Or getting kicked in the mouth, those terrible seconds when you notice that rusty taste on your tongue and you check in fear if you’ve still got all of your teeth.

That's how she makes him feel, which is not a pretty picture, but somehow explains it perfectly.

“That’s very sweet of you, lover,” she says with a fond smile. “I like you too, even when you’re scolding me for being a master at my craft and looking good while doing it.”

“Ha-ha,” he fake-laughs despondently. His hand finds hers on her knee, and he interlocks their fingers, squeezing reassuringly. “Is that really what you think? That I don’t like you?”

“Not really. I’ve seen your cheeks turn bright red enough times to know it’s not exactly anger. But…”

“What is it?”

“I dunno. I feel like there is a side of me you can’t get behind, and that really bothers me,” she says honestly, in a tone he’s not used to hearing from her. “This is not a game to me. You know that, right? I know I say I’m having fun all the time, but really, I do have my reasons for doing this. I’d much rather be in college, like you are.”

The breaking and entering, the robberies, the fights, the getting acquainted with the wrong people. Of course he knows there’s a reason behind all of it. She’s young and on her own. He doesn’t know what brought her to this point, but he understood from the beginning that she’s just looking out for herself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “If I ever made you feel bad about that. I know you’re just doing what you need to do. We all are.” They just have different ways to it. But he can’t judge her for that.

“It’s okay,” and her smile is back. Sunny and undefeated. “You couldn’t bring me down if you tried. I’ll beat your ass.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he laughs with her, and it flows easy and free, his chest feeling lighter, his hand still on hers.

But then the laughter dies down, and the silence settles in, and they stare at each other with nothing to say for once. They’re sitting way too close together. The faint fragrance of her perfume–something sweet and floral he hasn't had the chance to indulge in until now–fills up his nostrils, making his head spin.

Tentatively, he reaches up, his gloved hand meeting the side of her face, and he expects her to pull away, make some comment about him keeping his hands to himself. But surprisingly, she gets even closer, nuzzles into his touch, and he’s suddenly wishing he wasn’t wearing his suit, just to feel her warm cheek under his fingers.

“Can I?” he simply whispers.

Their eyes meet, and she nods coyly, giving him the green light to move forward. His fingers clasp around her goggles, perfectly fitted to her face, and he pulls them off, slowly.

She once said she wore them only for theatrics, not to actually hide who she was, because she was too pretty for that, and besides, no one would ever catch her. Peter wasn't too sure about that, but he agreed on the former.

He’s never seen her without them, and even if they don’t do much in covering her face, it feels weirdly intimate. Like some sort of metaphorical mask; a veil that’s being lifted to reveal truths, ones that he suspects have been ready to be uttered for a while now.

And it’s like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again.

He remembers the shock, the awe, the intrigue. It still feels fresh in his mind, imprinted there, the way it does when someone makes one hell of a first impression. He recalls every single move she’d made during that first fight, every punch she’d thrown, every kick he’d received.

And yet, all of it dissolves into nothing but feelings and sensations, faint memories, because the girl in front of him–the girl he’s seeing–is not The Black Cat, infamous master burglar. He’s seeing her, just the girl, more akin to him than he’ll ever know.

The girl, who fills his nights with giggles and joy, amidst the blood and the bruises and the darkness.

Sure, she enjoys teasing him, toying with him, pressing all the wrong and right buttons. Her presence is intoxicating in all senses of the word. Most of the time, he finds her extremely annoying, especially when she goes a little rogue, but he wouldn’t trade her company for anything. She fills up all the empty spaces in his life left by the people who are gone, and the ones that no longer know him. But she does–know him. He’s gotten the chance to start over, with her, a blank slate.

He’s afraid he’s given her too much of an in into his life, and having someone know about his identity again is terrifying, it strangely feels like he’s doing it all over again. He just hopes history doesn’t repeat itself, and although he’s learned to not take anything for certain, the one thing he knows is that he wants her here, by his side. He wants her.

He can pinpoint that feeling now, clear as day. It’s that very last second playing roulette, when you see it’s about to land on red after you’ve bet all of your money on it.

He might have just gotten lucky.

Before he knows it, he’s leaning in, and after a beat of a heart, his lips are on hers.

She doesn’t pull away, just leans into it, letting him take the reins of the kiss, his hand cupping her cheek, her hand wrapping around his wrist. She presses on a little closer, her other hand falling onto his thigh that’s brushing against hers on the bed, tainting the kiss with a fervor unfamiliar to him. He welcomes it gladly, allowing her to climb onto his lap, his hands coming to rest on her waist, pressing her body against his as she lays him on his bed.

Her kiss is tender, and strangely sweet considering she’s sitting on top of him, but not gentle–more so, demanding. He’s tempted to move his hands on her waist a little lower, explore every inch of that damned leather suit, but he doesn’t dare move them, just keeps kissing her. It’s only when her hands start snaking down his body and her lips move down his jaw and neck to plant open-mouthed kisses there that he snaps out of it

“Wait, wait,” he pulls away, holding her face in his hands. He can’t believe he’s saying no to a girl already in his bed–even if it’s the stuff of his wildest fantasies and a younger version of him would smack him on the back of his neck–but he wants to do this the right way. He owes her that. “I really like you.”

“I can tell,” she assures him with half a smirk, her eyes drifting down between their bodies.

But he doesn’t blush this time, not even under her scorching gaze. “And I really, really want to keep kissing you.”

“Okay,”

“But I really, really care about you, so let’s not jinx it?”

“You really just don’t like fun, huh?” she sighs.

He laughs, sitting up to rest his forehead against hers, his nose gently grazing hers, his hands flat on her back. “I wanna be with you, Cat,” he whispers.

She just studies him silently, pondering his words, her mind surely working through a hundred different scenarios and outcomes. “You’re too good for me, Peter.”

By the way she’s looking at him, he can almost hear her next words in the silence. I’m not a hero. I’m not some broken toy you can fix. I’m a thief, proudly so. And I��ll always be one. You can’t change that.

And that’s the thing: he doesn't want her to change. He’ll take the good with the bad, the shiny and the rusted. He likes her as she is. Even if she does not understand boundaries, even if she’ll go to the ends of the world just to see him blush at one of her dirty comments.

Most of the time, she represents everything he’s trying to fight, but it’s like every single time he thinks he can’t see past it, she surprises him with some small, little confession in the midst of some casual conversation that hits too close to home. He can’t help but feel like there is more to her. There is something hidden under the leather and the pout and the pretty face and the witty, flirty comebacks, and he’s more than willing to uncover it all, if she’ll let him.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asks, their bodies still tangled together on his bed. “What if it ends up horribly and I’m just someone else you have to lose?”

Peter places the softest of kisses on her forehead.

She looks so sad, and he gets it; he really does after losing everybody. This lifestyle is not easy, and it’s hard to let people in. Fear eats away at you slowly, until you’re left with nothing, all jagged and sharp edges, with a “Danger. Do not touch.” sign printed on your chest.

But it’s been a year already, a very long year, and he’s already gotten a taste of what a second chance might look like. If he thinks back on everyone who has ever loved him, he knows he can’t let her go. He wants to try his luck.

After all, she came in right when he needed her the most, and if that’s not good luck, he doesn't know what is. It’s a lonely life, the one they’ve chosen, but it’s theirs, and they have each other now. She’s got his back, and he’s got hers.

“I’ll always be there to catch you, remember?”

Both her hands come up to his face, and a second later, she’s kissing him again, with the same passion from that first kiss, but still gently, confirming everything Peter needed to know. That she might be the one–the one who sticks around, who understands him.

She pulls away, with a smile threatening to break free on her face, and whispers against his lips, “You’ll have to let me go about my business, though. You know that.”

His whole face lights up wtih a silly, shit-eating grin. “Don’t I already do that?”

“Alright,” she hums in agreement, tilting her head like a kitten with glossy eyes. “Can we keep kissing now, or…?”

“Yes.”

1K notes · View notes

reds-skull · 2 days

Text

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

The finale! Post script will be uploaded right after this, fair warning it's a damn long one lol

Thank you for reading this far, this chapter is called "Where All Permanence Rests". Enjoy!

Edit: I forgot to add the final poem before, it's fixed now!

Page 67 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 18:

The village people, hearing of the hunter’s fall, Find before them, the Blind man and the Beast, Yet they do not look with malice, they do not fear, As the veil has been taken away, their eyes see truth, That this is no Beast, but a man. The Beast, the Cursed Man, He does not rejoice, for the Blind Man has seen him justly, When all saw a monster.

Isla,

I don’t think I’ve ever written an actual letter, like this. Certainly not in circumstances like these. But this is the most secure way to contact you. I shouldn’t talk to you at all, if we’re being honest, but… I couldn’t just leave without a word.

In the following weeks, or days (depending on when this letter will reach you), you will receive news that John MacTavish is dead. And for all intents and purposes, in all ways but physical, I am dead.

I’m writing this to apologize, and to thank you.

Simon never thought he would return to Mexico by his own volition. Even before Soap, he refused to take jobs anywhere near Central America.

Only Johnny could give him enough strength to be here.

It also doesn’t hurt that they’re not here to fight the cartel.

“déjennos en paz!” a man screams further down the cobbled street. ‘Leave us alone.’

From the American-accented shouts that follow, the man’s pleas are ignored, “donte esta el Irani?!”

A woman joins the man, screaming that they don’t know. Simon continues sneaking past dark roofs. They can’t afford to attack just yet - their target has far too many soldiers in their disposal at the moment.

A couple of shots ring out, making his steps falter. The woman screams in anguish. He closes his eyes, attempting to not sink into the familiar embrace of cold indifference, like his instincts tell him to.

Being more than a weapon has its downsides.

“Ghost?”

“Johnny. Solid?” Simon answers on their private comm line, his partner’s voice relieving some of the uncomfortable ache cinching at his guts.

“Aye. Think I can see ye.”

He looks around for a moment, finding the red skull mask across several rooftops, crimson barely visible in the low light, “did you find any sign of the Vaqueros?”

Simon can almost feel Soap’s frustration from here, “negative. Only thing Ah’m seeing are American bastards and fucking corpses.” he grunts, “feels like the Hunter all over again…”

“Focus, Sergeant.”

“I am, LT.” he watches Soap’s form disappear between buildings, “gonna get on the ground, search for anyone we could rescue.”

“Copy, I’ll keep an eye on Graves.” Simon clicks off, knowing they both need the silence.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better brother to you. That I couldn’t take my head out of my arse and simply live a normal life, be normal. I think I never learned how to. But you deserved better. Could you tell maw I’m sorry as well? I don’t think I’ll make it to Christmas in the next… However long I have left to live.

Don’t worry about me (I know you always do, and always will), this is why I wanted to thank you.

After you called, on the day I got the notice of the eviction… I realized I couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t pretend I was fine, couldn’t keep this same, soul-crushing monotony, day in, day out.

Laswell contacted them two days ago, asking them to land in Las Almas and keep an eye on an American PMC called “Shadow Company”. They came to Mexico to collaborate with Mexican Special Forces to capture an Iranian and his stolen missiles. On paper, the citizens of Las Almas shouldn’t have been involved at all.

Graves and his Shadows move to another building, where several men have been rounded and lined up against a wall.

Reality never seems to match what’s on paper, when it comes to wars.

The Shadows lift their rifles, and shoot the civilians.

They don’t know what made Graves turn. But that’s not Simon and Soap’s job to figure out. Their only interest is to minimize civilian life loss and rescue the Vaqueros, the Mexican soldiers the Americans betrayed.

A weak voice on the other side of the block catches his attention. Simon makes the split second decision to take his eyes off Graves and investigate.

“No- let her go!” a woman, a mother, screams at a Shadow ripping a child away from her.

The kid in his arms cries, “Mommy! Mommy!”

“What do you think you’re doing, I’m with the police-!”

Simon catches another soldier moving to shoot, and in a flash, he takes hold of two throwing knives, and buries them deep within the Shadows’ throats.

The policeman and his family look at the soldiers fall with horror and confusion. Simon jumps down, revealing himself.

“Find a vehicle, and get out of the city. The Americans are not going to stop until they find what they want.” he grounds, staring at the cop’s eyes.

The mother asks shakily, “what- why are they doing this-?!” but the cop pushes her and the child, nodding grimly to Simon.

He climbs back up not a moment later. A voice in his mind tells him this maneuver might’ve costed him his cover, but alongside it, Simon doesn’t feel regret. He has learned to appreciate any win, no matter how small. And for those people, it is not small.

So I ran. I can’t tell you to where. I can’t tell you what I found there.

But I can tell you who I met. He’s… fuck, how could I describe him?

He was such a cunt at first, you would’ve ripped him a new one. But I learned he was also running away, in his own way. That he’s been running for a long, long time. And when I met him, when we actually started working with each other…

I felt like I was alive for the first time in a year.

“Ghost” Johnny startles him from thought, “found a Vaquero. Yer…?”

“Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra. Who are you?” a farther voice barely comes through the radio.

“Soap. Laswell sent us.”

“Kate Laswell? Are you with Shepherd?!”

Simon grinds his teeth, “we’re not under anyone’s command, Parra. Not military.”

“You’re… you’re mercenaries?” he can hear Parra curse under his breath, “is it just you two?”

“Aye” Soap answers, “Laswell hasn’t burned ye yet - she asked us to help ye.”

The Sergeant Major seems to sigh in relief, hopelessness coloring his next words, “I’m glad. Though… no.”

He sounds more assured when he speaks again, “my soldiers and Colonel have been captured by Graves. I’ll need any help I can get to rescue them.”

“You got it.” Simon rumbles, “any intel on their location?”

“Negative. Alejandro has a safe house outside the city, I might be able to find out if we get there.”

“Alejandro?” Soap asks.

“My Colonel.” Parra says, noticeably sadder than before.

“We’ll get him back, mate.” Soap attempts to comfort, “Ghost, still got eyes on Graves?”

Simon internally grimaces, “...negative. Had to help some civvies.”

He didn’t expect the pride in Johnny’s voice, but in hindsight he should’ve, “understood. Ye see the church tower from here?”

Simon looks at the far distance, a tall building lit by an orange glow towers over the city, “affirm. Lets RV there.”

“Aye. Keep yerself safe.”

“You too Johnny.”

I don’t know how, but I have the feeling me and him were meant to meet. Not in a soulmate kind of way… I’ve been feeling things like that a lot, since I ran. Like this is where I would’ve always ended up being.

You will not meet me again, most likely. Me and him… Just our presence will put you in danger. There’s a reason they had to kill us both on paper. Can’t tell you what we’re doing that required that, but you know I was never one to stick to things like “rules” and “laws”.

We’re not alone in this, we have allies, people that want to do good, but are stuck in a system that refuses to change to do that good. I wish you never experience the amount of evil truly festering this world, and we are fighting so you never will.

He begins combing the streets for Graves’s trail, mostly tuning out the conversation between Soap and the Sergeant Major. From what he does listen to, Graves’ betrayal seemed to come out of nowhere - they had successfully disarmed a missile not a day prior, having interrogated a cartel lord who aided the Iranian.

They were so close to finishing the mission. Which is why, when the Shadow commander turned around and stabbed them in the back, only Parra managed to shake off the shock and escape.

Graves is still on the hunt for the Iranian, convinced he’s hiding in Las Almas, while also searching for Rodolfo. It won’t look good for business if he can’t wrap up things cleanly, Simon muses darkly. He had enough encounters with PMCs in the past to know how they operate.

He eyes a group of Shadows standing around a couple of fresh bodies, all seemingly focused on their comms.

After a few moments, one of them answers to whoever is ordering them, “I’m here with a few others, sir, we can go search the area for the Mexican.” the soldier pauses to hear the response, “yessir! Let’s go, they spotted him at the northern plaza!”.

The group instantly starts sprinting, Simon following while radioing to Soap, “Johnny, Shadows heading to the northern plaza, said someone saw Parra!”

He hears the Sergeant Major through Soap’s comms, “mierda!”

Simon has to jump over an alley when the roof he’s been running on ended, “I’m on my way to you, can you hold them?!”

Soap huffs in a way that tells him he has something up his sleeve, “we’ll smoke up the plaza, they don’t know Ah’m here.”

He can just imagine Johnny’s sharp grin under his mask, “going undercover, hm? A man after my own heart.”

“Always, Simon.” Johnny whispers, just for his ears. Simon ignores the way it makes a shiver go down his spine.

Up ahead, a plume of smoke rises between buildings. Soap leaves his comms on, letting Simon hear how Johnny takes hostiles down one by one, going quiet until his cover is blown.

In the streets below, more and more soldiers funnel towards the plaza. Simon grits his teeth, pushing his legs to run faster. He will not let Johnny enter a losing fight, not if he can help it.

The shooting abruptly stops, making his heart still. A few moments pass before he can hear Soap’s voice growling, “let him go.”

He can hear the Shadows laughing, a churning noise grating on his ears. Simon slows, keeping to the swaths of darkness.

A half circle of Shadows formed in the plaza, Parra and Soap facing them. In the center, a shadow holds a pistol to a young boy’s head.

Simon doesn’t even attempt to swallow down the disgust that rises in his throat.

“No can do, pal. Drop your weapon and give us the cowboy, or the kid gets hit.”

He drops behind the Shadows, knife slipping down his sleeve silently. With careful steps, he closes in on the center soldier, while Parra curses at them.

Over the soldier’s shoulder, he meets Johnny’s eyes. With no words, they communicate. He waits for Soap’s signal, watching his Sergeant lower himself. To the Shadows, it seems like he’s bending down to place his SMG on the ground, but Simon can almost feel the tension coiling within Soap’s muscles, readying himself to fight.

“Alright, Alright!” Soap shouts, “I’m dropping my gun, just let the boy go.”

Johnny nods minutely. Simon strikes.

In a motion he’s done a million times before, the knife swings in an arc before burrowing into the Shadow’s neck. Simon doesn’t waste any time pushing the body aside, grabbing the young boy and pulling him back.

Soap snarls, righting his gun and spraying bullets to his left, clearing a path for him to take the kid and shove him into cover.

He swings around, ducking under a hostile’s incoming knife, unsheathing one of his own and easily stabbing it into the underside of his jaw. He throws it at another attacking soldier, noticing Soap and Parra being pushed back into a corner.

One of them gets the jump on Soap, the two falling to the ground in a struggle. His heart leaps to his throat, where it shouts, ‘Johnny!’

Simon takes a rifle off of a body, inhales to steady his breath.

Focuses his rage on the targets and shoots.

He drops the gun, rushing to Soap. The bodies on the ground don’t move.

A fast-paced chant screams in his mind ‘where is Soap is he broken is he dead have you failed him-’

“Ngh… Steamin’ Jesus, this fucker’s heavy.” Johnny grumbles, shoving the body covering his off.

Simon stares at him for a moment, before dropping to his knees and pulling him up. He searches for injuries on Soap’s body before two gentle hands stop him.

“Ah’m good, mo chridhe. Solid.” Johnny’s hands don’t let go, instead caressing his bloody palms.

An unexpected wave of emotion crashes into him, filling his lungs with warmth. He doesn’t know if it was the split second moment where he thought Johnny might be dead, or the gentle way he’s now comforting him, somehow always knowing when he’s panicked.

Maybe it’s all of it, that makes Simon blurt out, “I love you.”

And Johnny, despite having the majority of his face covered, looks up at him with so much care, blue eyes almost glowing behind the red mask.

Those eyes crescent with joy, Johnny pushing his forehead to bump against Simon’s in affection.

“I love ye too, Simon.”

And Simon finds himself thinking, that this is what he was meant to be.

Fighter.

Human.

Loved.

I’ll be trying to write as much as possible, but if this is the only letter you’ll ever get…

Just know that if I died, I went down fighting, and I went down with him. And I couldn’t have been happier with the way I lived.

I love you so, so much.

-J.M.

Page 100 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 20:

Where is your destination, now that the curse has been lifted, The Blind Man asks, with nothing but kindness on his tongue. I have no place to belong to, the once-Beast answers, Nowhere, but the path I walk with you, my fallen knight. Then we shall travel together, until we return to the earth, And perhaps, if God is to be so merciful, The paths we take will always, and forevermore, Be only by the side of the other.

19 notes · View notes

lurkerwithcomputer · 7 months

Text

A Dangerous Dinner, Part 2

A/N: Here we go, Hinami getting gloriously gory but from Ayato's (absolutely, devastatingly smitten) perspective this time! I mean, he was close enough to her that Naki had to physically restrain him from making a doomed rescue attempt at the Auction, so we know how Ayato feels about Hinami.

He hops into the condemned building through an open second floor window, from the neighboring rooftop. It's an old, western-style apartment building. Good solid brick. Kind of a shame the city wants it torn down, the part of him not focused on the mission muses. The floorboards creak a little, and one of Hinami's followers sticks their head out of a doorway.

"Heyo. We've got the night watchman bagged, and we're gonna strip the place of as much as we can carry."

He nods his approval. Hinami's follower - I think he goes by Taka - gives a nonchalant half-salute, before scratching his stubbled chin poking out from under his falcon mask, where it leaves his mouth uncovered. Normally he'd turn and glare at the lack of respect, but they're not his crew to keep in line. Hinami's command structure and level of strictness are her own business.

And if he can't help the warm sparks of approval igniting in his chest at Hinami having followers, that's his own business.

He glances into another room where he can hear what sounds like a thorough ransacking - it looks like it was the night watchman's break room. The two women among Hinami's followers are shoving small appliances into duffel bags, along with any coffee in the cupboards. The coffee and coffee maker make perfect sense to him, but he's not sure about the rest - he sees a blender and an entire microwave disappear into one army surplus bag.

He's got another priority than helping with the post-kill plundering. He can smell blood wafting down through the stairwell, fresh - and maybe even still warm. I hope it is. He hops up the stairwell and steps out on the top floor, following the rich scent of an easy meal. He looks down the hall at Hinami.

The mission goes entirely out of his brain. The sparks of approval in his chest burst into flame, Hinami is the fire that warms him on all his cold nights. And if I got that from one of her sappy novels, that's my business, too.

He takes in the sight of her and stops cold for a moment - he's fairly sure this is the most aroused he's ever been in his entire life.

Blood, blood that he can tell is still warm, something about the hot-metal smell of it and the way it drips, mixed with something clear-ish and more watery, runs down Hinami's hands, drips down her chin, smears her cheeks, filling the room with a sweet scent. He sees what she's holding, half-eaten, in one hand. Oh, that's what the clear fluid is, she's eating the brain first. He looks at the coating of translucent, glistening red over her black lipstick and - her lips, slick with blood and brain fluid, delicious with it, feeling the moist warmth of her mouth, the softness, tasting the richness, the salt, the sweetness, the tingling tang of iron on his tongue and the smoky taste of her lipstick underneath it all--

He blinks the sudden fantasy away, awkwardly aware of how his face is now fever-hot behind his mask. He gives her a more emphatic nod, almost a bow. He's very impressed - along with the lust heating his face and quickening his pulse - seeing the timid, awkward girl who joined Aogiri when she could barely bring herself to hunt, with two bodies at her feet, a crew of followers, and a position as his equal.

There's some deep-rooted intuition rising in him, as he sees Hinami as a dangerous Aogiri Executive in her own right, who's looking up at him with a gory smile, teeth coated red to match her hands and face. Who can hunt and fight, who can stand on her own now - who would have his back, who he can trust while fighting for survival, who could hunt for him if he was injured. Who rarely looks like she enjoys being a ghoul - but right now she does, so unapologetic about what she is, even if it won't last afterwards. I want to see this Hinami more often. His intuition says "choose her."

My intuition sounds a bit like Eto sometimes, he muses, knowing very well Hinami admires the older woman deeply.

He makes simple, boring small talk about the job at hand as he tears his attention away from Hinami's inglorious feast and distracting scent, kneels and inspects the bodies, mentally tallying up and portioning out the meat. Still, one detail of the looting in progress downstairs keeps bugging him. He runs it over in his head and comes up dry - the blender and the microwave shoved into an army-surplus carry sack.

"By the way, why are they looting the watchman's break room?"

Hinami laughs, and now it's her and not his intuition that sounds a little like Eto - a laugh that's soft and warm and bright. Soft as blood running over skin, 37 degrees Celsius of warmth, bright as the almost-full moon beyond the blood-splattered walls. A ghoulish laugh, and even though he can't see her eyes behind her steel visor, he can hear how much she's enjoying her meal.

His own blood buzzes with equal parts attraction and reverence.

"It's almost November. Wouldn't you want a warm mug of blendered organs?"

He can practically hear his thoughts screech to a halt, for the second time around her tonight. His composure blows away with the breathy laugh that comes out, hot damp breath warming the skin beneath his mask. Hinami smiles at him once again as she reaches into the chest cavity of the body she's been eating. He can hear her digging around, can hear the blood vessels ripping as she tugs at something.

"We have a little while until anyone notices they're not answering their phones," she says, offhandedly, a beat, then, "Want to share a meal?" she asks, holding out a heart to him.

If he thought his face was too hot under his mask before, now the very thing that protects him feels stifling, hot and itchy with sweat that the padding can't absorb fast enough. He finds his gaze pulled to the fresh flow of blood trailing from her fingers to her wrist, leaking off the offered organ. She grew up among ghouls who tried to assimilate among humans. I hope she knows what this gesture means.

He'll just have to swallow his pride and ask.

"Uh," he hesitates, "You know what offering a heart means, right?"

"I'm not being subtle, Ayato-kun," she says, and there's a hint of vivid blush peeking out below her mask, around the blood slick on her cheeks.

#lurker writes #tokyo ghoul #fueguchi hinami #kirishima ayato #ayahina #blood #gore

6 notes · View notes

yeenybeanies · 1 year

Text

[PREVIEW] Wardens

find the rest on my patreon ❤️ very much inspired by this illustration i saw forever ago 👀 (the full thing will be posted here eventually, don't worry!) OCs | ivy of paesaal & the warden 3,475 words mentions of death & vomiting thanks for reading!! patreon ✨ ko-fi

There were many words for the giant beings. Sentinels. Guardians. Watchers. Keepers. Most called them Wardens. They were gargantuan, towering beings, standing taller than most buildings. They wore armor like that of a knight, made of an unknown metal that could not be dirtied, that no conventional weapon could pierce or scratch. What they looked like underneath that armor, no one knew. A brave few had tried to slip in through the gaps, hungry for knowledge that seemed so within reach, but there were no gaps to be found. Not even the helmets far above, where there were slots, presumably for the beings to see through, granted any entry. Some invisible barrier kept even the light from penetrating into that armor.

Be it legend or history, it was said that the Wardens were gifts from the Gods, sent to protect the land and its people from otherworldly threats. They were mighty, unbreakable warriors, able to repel the worst evils any realm could produce.

Or so it was said.

No one could remember a time when any ungodly monsters ever descended upon the land. No one could remember the Wardens ever waking from their slumber to fight and defend. No one could even remember the last time a Warden moved. Believers claimed that they were simply dormant, and only came to life when truly needed. Nay-sayers thought the whole tale was a crock of shit, that they were nothing more than huge, decorative statues that royals used as symbols of their egos.

It was true that royalty in Palendra regarded the Wardens highly. Monarchs of the past few centuries liked to claim the Wardens’ as their own, though they had no means of actually harnessing their would-be power. Royal crests and seals depicted the Wardens, and the royal guard donned shining armor styled after them.

One such guard in Warden armor sighed loudly. He stood at attention as he was supposed to, but there was a laziness to his posture.

“Princess Ivy,” he said, doing his best to temper the exasperation in his voice, “there are storm clouds gathering from the south. We should head inside before they let out.”

Seated on the wall against a stone pillar, Ivy continued with her charcoal, scraping it across the parchment in her book. She regarded the new strokes for a moment, then smudged at them with her blackened fingers.

“Princess,” the guard said, sounding more annoyed. “Princess.”

Ivy rolled her head back and groaned. “Ugh. Golrin, you’re interrupting my process! If you have to go take a piss so badly, then by all means! You’re dismissed!”

Though his face was hidden under his helmet, she could tell that Golrin was rolling his eyes at her. He’d been her personal guard for nearly ten years now, almost half of her life; she knew how to read him through his armor.

“Oh, pardon my interruption, Your Highness,” he said, speaking much less formally than he would had they not been alone. Ivy liked it better when he talked to her like this. All of those fake, flowery manners that people were supposed to use around her got so exhausting. Golrin continued, “Much as I would love to do just that, I’m afraid your parents would have me drawn and quartered if I dared to let you out of my sight. Dismissed or otherwise.”

Ivy snapped her book shut, the charcoal piece held between the pages, and slid off of the wall. She tucked the book under her arm, and gestured to the towering metal form behind her. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me while he’s around. You can go!”

Golrin snorted. He crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his head up, regarding the Warden. Where they stood, on one of the highest rooftops of the castle, they only just barely reached the middle of its chest plate.“You don’t actually believe that,” he said. “That Warden’s never moved before. And it certainly isn’t going to move for you if you decide to take a tumble over the wall.”

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #wardens #hyena ocs #ivy of paesaal #the warden #hyena previews

25 notes · View notes

fdelopera · 2 years

Note

In relation to Jake Lockley Wrestles with God.

As always your analysis is amazing! It's got my head reeling! And full of so many questions!

The frustrating bit is that we don't know when Jake was manifested! Steven was young enough to possibly study and learn about Jewish culture and traditions. Let's assume Jake didn't come around until Marc was mid teenager. How much may have been expected of him at that point to learn. He would have come around when all teenagers are in their most stressful and emotional time in their lives.

But what point in Jewish culture is he jumping headlong into? Assuming we are past the traditional Bar Mitzvah age, what are the next important steps? Things he would have been thrown into without prior intensive teaching and training.

Considering Jake has taken up the Hispanic heritage, presumably in Chicago, he is also thrown into other traditions that are expected of him. To be Hombre. To be tough and to always win.

I always saw Jake as the rebellious one. The one to take to heart the 'question' part of the Torah. Question the teachings. Demand answers of those around him. Demand that god be held accountable for his pain and mistreatment.

He will not only wrestle with god, but he will set out to stand over them and demand to be seen. So in talking to Harrow in Spanish, talking to Helen in Spanish, he is telling god "I am here. I will win. Because of this, you will lose."

Thank you @drifting-pieces-blog-blog for your Ask! Based on what we know about Jake, I have a feeling that his triggers to front have as much to do with protecting Marc from himself as protecting the system from outside threats.

Marc is more than capable of taking care of business in a fight. He is skilled, he has military training, and he has an appetite for both giving and receiving punches.

In fact, I think that Marc enjoys taking hits. He gets high on the sweat and the blood. He encourages people to try to take him down: “What, are we dancin'? We fightin'? What are we gonna do?” When he gets onto that rooftop in Cairo, he’s not afraid. He’s excited to get into this brawl.

But he also uses fighting to self-punish. To self-flagellate. Khonshu knows this, too. He tells Marc in a voice that’s both sardonic and truthful, “I know that you enjoy the work I have for you.”

I’m going to put the rest under a read-more. And I’m adding a trigger warning to this post for self-harm.

Marc often follows Khonshu’s directives and fights evildoers as a way to self-harm. To punish himself for Roro’s death. To punish himself for all the deaths that have come after. To punish himself for being a killer. To let someone who is “the worst of the worst” (in his mind, just as bad as him) take him down. And that’s when Jake steps in. Because there are times when Marc takes it too far. As he says to Steven, “You try taking a life. See how quickly you forget. Kept wishing I'd fail and one of them would kill me instead. The healing ended up being a curse.” And that’s when the body is at risk. Not necessarily at risk of death; at least, not while they have Khonshu’s healing to preserve them. But at risk of harm. At risk of hopelessness. At risk of giving up. Because they might not die, but they can still feel the pain of death. And that’s Jake’s trigger to front. He decimates whoever they are fighting against. Cause it’s the only way to get Marc to stop.

There are other times, too, when Jake takes Marc out of a self-harm spiral. Because another method Marc has of self-harm is drinking. When you’re raised by a parent or a parental figure who is an alcoholic, drinking as a means of self-harm is a special kind of hell. It perpetuates the cycle of abuse, because now you’re becoming the thing you hated as a child. And I think there are times when Marc is drunk where he comes close to hurting himself in a way that he wouldn’t be able to recover from (or at least, not without Khonshu’s healing powers). And Jake steps in before he can get to that point.

Remember those gloves on the nightstand in their little hotel room in Cairo? At the beginning of the final scene in Ep. 2, the camera follows Steven’s gaze into the room. Steven has been kept on the inside for a while (represented by the sheet that briefly covers the mirror, before falling to the ground). Perhaps there was a fight between Steven and Marc, at which point Marc smashed the mirror and put the sheet over it. Both Steven’s and Marc’s hands are bloody from their fight at the mirror. However, there was more damage done to the room after Marc put the sheet up, because when Steven looks out, he appears genuinely shocked and distressed at the amount of destruction that Marc has caused in the room. He’s seeing this sight for the first time. Marc put up the “sheet” that symbolizes the barrier between them because he didn’t want Steven to see the destructive spiral he knew was coming. He’s ashamed of it. Marc sits on the floor, finishing a bottle of whisky. Then the camera pans over to the nightstand. We see the pair of black gloves. We don't realize until the very last scene of Ep. 6 what these gloves signify. These are Jake's gloves.

What was Jake doing? From what we know of him, he was probably wrestling Marc back from the cliff's edge, and then leaving without a trail to follow. Marc is at his lowest point. He’s lost the scarab, forcing him to “probably get himself killed running around Cairo” looking for Harrow’s followers, as Layla puts it. Layla has found him, which means that she’s in danger, and she has found out about Steven, which is a point of deep shame for Marc. As he says later, “For what it's worth, I had it under control until very recently.” Steven is “it” in this scenario. To put this in perspective, Marc is fine with Layla knowing that he’s killed people; however, her knowing about the way that his system has been shaped by their trauma is painful and humiliating — it’s more than he can bear. To make matters worse, Khonshu is furious with him, which Marc worries will cause the old god to double down on his threats to make Layla his next avatar. And worst of all, Steven has found out about him, and he’s seemed to have confirmed one of Marc’s greatest fears — if Steven knows WHO Marc is, he will hate Marc forever. And Marc will deserve that hatred. And I think there’s part of Marc that wishes he could just drink himself into oblivion. To thrash wildly against the room until he breaks himself to pieces. He’s hopeless and defeated. And that’s Jake’s cue.

Maybe Marc just thinks he blacked out for a while from the whisky. Jake’s gloves are symbolic of him being unknown to Marc and Steven. Jake doesn't even leave a trace of fingerprints for Marc and Steven to find. He is clandestine. Meticulous. Structured and organized. He has to be. If Marc or Steven knew about him, they could contend with him (like they do with each other), and those few seconds could mean the difference between life and death. Neither Marc nor Steven have gotten a more than a fleeting glimpse of Jake. A sense of someone, hovering on the edges of their awareness. But he’s there. And he keeps them safe. Jake Lockley has a JOB to do. His job is to protect the system from harm, even at the cost of his own connection with them.

As for when Jake came into being, I think it’s possible he first fronted during the MK system’s later childhood or early adolescence, at least based on my analysis that he protects against some specific types of self-harm. And while he might not have experienced their Jewish education in the way that Steven and Marc did, he would still have had plenty of Jewish experiences. The tutoring and training that prepares a child for their Bar Mitzvah is just the beginning of Jewish life. There is a world of Jewish experience that comes after. The Bar Mitzvah is the rite of passage in which a child becomes a responsible member of Jewish life. Once the child crosses that threshold, they now have duties to their family and to the community.

And Jake was there for that, I think. And he probably saw the utter hypocrisy in the MK system having to be performatively Jewish in public while being abused and neglected within an ostensibly Jewish home.

I can imagine he has his own associations with Jewishness — ways of being Jewish that are uniquely his, that he gets to own. I can empathize with Jake’s rejection of that thin veneer of performative faith that was used to cover up the abuse that lay just below the surface. I can also identify with his need to demand retribution for that abuse. He follows a doctrine of “an eye for an eye,” in which he demands accountability for the wrongs committed against him and the MK system; he wants to put an end to the cycle of abuse.

I agree that Jake would be likely to question God, as I wrote about in the post you mentioned. He would wrestle with the religious teachings that he received piecemeal and second-hand from his disjointed time growing up. He would have been the one most likely to experience their Jewishness as an outsider looking in. That kind of forced distance gives perspective. It’s an elevation above the chessboard — a vantage point that can allow for certain insights, like the insight not to take things at face value, but instead to fight back. To demand autonomy. To rebel. To follow one’s own path. Jake’s doctrine is one of LIFE, and he will wrestle with anyone who tries to take away his personhood. Including Marc.

As for his chosen communities, I can see him being drawn to explore his Latino heritage. To find strength in that. To reclaim that part of himself. To speak with others who are NOT the family. Because in Chicago in the 90s and 00s, he would have found some Latine Jewish community. But it would have primarily been older people; not teenagers. So I can imagine he would have sought out Hispanic community and learned about his heritage there. To go where the Spectors are not known, so that Jake can have at least a few people who know him by his name.

I can see him wrestling to form an identity that is his, and not handed down with the associated baggage from his forefathers. As he should. Because we who are outsiders often have the greatest claim to our cultural heritage. The greatest claim to be seen and acknowledged as having a RIGHT to it. Because it wasn’t handed to us; it doesn’t come to us easily. Instead, we have had to FIGHT to make it our own.

#drifting-pieces-blog-blog #moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #oscar isaac #self harm tw

32 notes · View notes

memethebum · 9 months

Text

So I uh started writing a MLB fic like the traitorous mf I am

Summary: Marinette and Adrien both take on a summer job as Kwami mascots at the local carnival, which comes as a pleasant surprise to Adrien and a nightmare to Marinette. What they hadn’t expected was finding out how much they enjoy alone time together, all while Ladybug and Chat Noir finally discuss their certain appreciation for PDA and fighting against whatever Hawkmoth and college have in store for them

(Gonna put a preview for the latest chapter under here bc yk what I actually kinda like how it turned out that’s when things actually start moving along lol)

————————————————————————

“M’lady,” Chat Noir murmured before watching Ladybug crane her head in his direction and let out a hum in confusion.

“What happened to… that boy?” the hero then added in between a few bated breaths, only to hear his partner let out a slow sigh after he’d uttered out the question.

“Let’s just say he taught me that there isn’t only one way you can get to know…or love someone,” she explained while scooting closer towards him and placing her head onto his shoulder.

————————————————————

“It’s not funny Chat!” Ladybug shouted before taking a long sip from her glass.

“Ok ok I’m sorry Bugaboo, you’re just really cute when you get all angry,” Chat Noir added as he reached out to grab one of his partner’s hands and soothe the rage bubbling up within her.

“So you and your friend are in this embarrassing situation together, right?” he questioned, probing Ladybug to release a hum in agreement.

“Well that solves your problem right there! I’m sure this friend probably feels the same way about everything. Either that or they already feel comfortable enough around you in the situation, since you’re practically a fallen angel that’s blessed the earth with her beauty,” Chat Noir then hummed before feeling his lady vigorously ruffle her fingers through his unruly hair in agitation.

“I just wish…I knew they were comfortable with me. We’ve been friends for a while now so you’d expect me to pick up on these cues, but NOPE I’m a complete deer in headlights when it comes to them even now,” Ladybug added while sliding her wine glass to the side and flopping onto the rooftop they were perched upon.

Must be pretty serious if she can’t even get past her first mimosa Chat Noir noted as he thought back to the numerous times he’d have to stop Ladybug from stress drinking during their “after patrol rest breaks”.

“Hey,” he then whispered before laying down beside her, causing their faces to be a breath away from one another.

“If it counts as anything, I think you’re a great friend m’lady. You’ve just gotta remember that everyone has walls they might be putting up unconsciously and it takes a while to understand each one,” Chat Noir finished with a low sigh once realizing how many times he’d told Ladybug that his life outside of being a hero was mostly “putting up walls” in front of almost everyone he knew.

Great, now I just sound self-centered he grimaced before looking over at his partner.

However, the hero was met with her eyes gazing at him in a gentle flicker rather than the scowl he’d envisioned.

“You’re right Chaton, I’m just really…overthinking things when I’ve already helped my friend express themselves before,” Ladybug whispered as her fingers began to gently glide against Chat Noir’s burning cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” Chat Noir attempted to whisper, although his mind was completely immersed by how the moonlight allowed him to see the fervent blush that had made it’s way across his lady’s cheeks as well.

Everything soon grew increasingly quiet around the hero, leaving only his racing heartbeat as a telltale sign of what he wanted next from the current situation.

S-should I move my head closer? No, I don’t wanna pressure her into anything. But, what if she’s also nervous and is waiting on me to make the first move and-

“Y’know,” Ladybug murmured over Chat Noir’s internal monologue.

She then began to push herself upwards, causing him to grow even more tense before feeling her body flop ontop his own.

“We do this a lot ,” she exclaimed as Chat Noir let out an erratic chuckle.

“We-we really do. Did you…pin me down to do something about it Bugaboo?” he exclaimed in a desperate attempt to keep his cool while also relishing in the fact that Ladybug had him pinned down and ready for whatever she set her mind to.

“Maybe,” Ladybug then murmured before furrowing her brows together, immediately causing Chat Noir to reach out for one of her hands.

“Sorry, that sounded a little too direct. It’s ok if you’re not ready, I’m really nervous too and-“

“No no!” the other hero shouted, eliciting him to go completely still.

“I mean no Chat, I want this. I want you ,” Ladybug exclaimed before slowly pushing her head forwards.

Chat Noir shuddered in place until her lips were slightly touching his own, which served as all the bravado he needed to meld their lips together.

#started doing this self indulgently and ended up here 🧍🏻‍♀️#also writing it bc I wrote a mlb fic back in highschool and it just disappeared from gdocs #and I started crying bc I was already stressed from preap chemistry LMAO #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ladynoir #adrienette #mlb tikki #mlb plagg #ao3 fic #meme attempts to write

3 notes · View notes

sketch-mer-6195 · 2 years

Text

You Sure? (ROTTMNT Leonardo Hamato x Kalani Rotasu {OFC})

Warnings: Some swearing, Spoilers for ROTTMTN Movie, Angst... some at least. Word Count: 1666 A/N: I swear I thought I posted this chapter a long time ago... apparently my dum-dum self didn’t like the dummy-sum I am.... Well here we go! and I know @mysticboombox has seriously been waiting since she is partially my beta reader with the snippets I give her lol.

And I know I gotta work on making lnks to the chapters and masterlist. I promise I’m gonna do that.

Part 3. Not A Date!

Standing in front of the mirror and adjusting his lapels for the 86th time, Leo was debating whether to keep a tie on or go without one and open the top button. His mind was full of possible “what if” scenarios in his mind.

What if she stands heim up?

What if she asks to stay down in the lair tonight?

What if she asks him to stay for the night?

What if she tries to kill him?!

“Getting cold feet, Leon?”

Blue let out a scream and spun around with his toothbrush in hand only to see Mikey and Raph with smug looking grins. Leo groaned and placed his toothbrush back in its place before looking back at his own reflection, with the company of Mikey and Raph.

“I’m not scared, just anxious okay.” Leo retorted before looking down in the sink.

The two brothers chuckled at their new leader as he shot them a glare through the mirror. Mikey came up to him and threw his arm across his brother’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry, it’s like riding a skateboard. Once you’ve done it once, it’s stuck with you for life.”

“It’s not that simple, Mikey. This is my ex-girlfriend we’re talking about. The owner of The Nexus Hotel and the Battle Nexus. She’s not all smiles and quick comebacks to my one liners.” Leo replied.

Raph chuckled slightly before looking back at his brother. “Look, we understand how nervous ya are. And we got your back. No matter what, we’ll figure this out together. Even if it means we go to the Hidden City to find the answer.”

“Besides, it’s not like she can fight you. You are on your A-Game, bro!” Mikey reassured him.

Leo chuckled at his little brother before realizing something. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date with your girlfriend, Angelo?”

“Yes, but Mara is coming here to get me so we can take the turtle tank. Have a romantic picnic made by yours truly, and then lo and behold! Buh-BAM!” Mikey pulled out a small velvet box, making both of his older brothers gasp.

“No Way! Wait, where did you get the money?!” Leo asked, earning a serious nod from Raph.

Mikey rubbed the back of his neck and let out a nervous chuckle. “I got an etsy page and have been making requests of my sick spray paint art. And with that, Mr. Harrison and April helped pick out the ring.”

Raph and Leo hugged their baby brother and congratulated him. Mikey soon slipped out as he heard his girlfriend calling for him in the lair. As Raph and Leo watched their little brother leave, Leo let out a sigh before running a hand across his face and looking back at his reflection. Raph glanced back at his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder as a sign of reassurance. Blue had let out a small chuckle before smiling and looking back at his brother. After one last glance, Leo removed his blue tie and undid the top button before nodding to himself. If anything, he was gonna go out in style even if his ex refused his offer.

Waving and calling out that he was leaving to the rest of his family, Leo made his way to the surface and took to the rooftops to head to his destination and meet up with his ex-girlfriend at the Run of Mill Pizzeria. As he made his way to the alleyway to the secret entrance, Leo was taken back at the sight before him. A dark skinned woman with her dark violet hair in soft waves. Her black backless dress revealed the dip of her back as her dress draped down her legs to about mid calf. The slit on the back of her dress didn’t help with the thoughts that began to plague his mind.

‘C’mon Leo! This is not a date! Just a meet up to talk like civilized adults.’ He scolded himself as he cleared his throat to try and calm his nerves.

But it didn’t help after the woman turned to face him. Kalani, with her cloaking brooch perched over her right breast, looking over Leo and flashing a soft smirk and walking over to him. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he watched her draw closer to him until they were both at arm’s reach.

“My, you sure clean up rather well. For a sewer dweller.” She stated, walking around him and her arms crossed.

Leo scoffed and placed his own hands on his hips. “At least I don’t have to wear a disguise.”

Kalani stopped in front of him with an unexpressive look, but a small smirk pulled at the corner of her lip before she touched her brooch and shifted back to her yokai self. Her teal skin still complimented her dress, if not better than in her human form. He thanked the higher power in the sky that she couldn’t hear his palpitating heart. Shifting slightly, he cleared his throat and offered his arm to her which surprised her greatly. Kalani glanced between himself and his offering before carefully looping her arm with his own. It felt a little awkward, but it was a welcoming feeling that spread across her body like a warm blanket. Entering the restaurant was like walking down memory lane; Yokai were enjoying their meals, talking and laughing. The smell of great Italian and unique cuisines filled their nostrils which both were on the verge of drooling.

“Señorita Rōtasu! It is an honor to see you again, my dear!” Señor Hueso, the owner of the establishment, beamed with glee as he welcomed her with open arms.

Kalani smiled and hugged the skeleton and only to find her place back next to Leo who smiled broadly at him, something that Hueso actually returned and nodded.

“Two, private booth please.” Kalani requested which Hueso accommodated with no questions asked.

Once he seated the two and left to get their drinks, Kalani rested her elbows and propped her chin in her hand. Her eyes scanned over Leo which, oddly enough, made the slider squirm slightly in his seat. It was as though they were back on their very first date, only for her to know exactly what was going to happen. But as he watched her, Leo couldn’t help but notice how calm she was. And a hint in her eyes that showed she was remembering something. Possibly their first official date here? And how much of a dork he was trying to impress her that night. He could see her shoulders relax, her whole body deflating into a comfortable posture and her own eyes softening. Relaxing himself, Leo leaned on his forearms that rested on the table and just… enjoyed her presence. He was feeling young again. Remembering how they were together, the smiles and bantering. But they were happy in the long run. Or so he believed.

“So, let’s get down to business shall we?” Kalani started as she sipped her water. “You said to me a few days ago that you-”

“What happened?” Leo interrupted, catching Kalani off guard.

But she wasn’t surprised. Her walls building up, Kalani sat back in her seat and swirled her water in its glass and looked at him with a bored look.

“I did not come here to walk down memory lane, Nardo. I came here to offer my services and make a proposition.”

Leo bit the inside of his cheek before making a mental note and putting a pin on the topic. She was right, for now at least. They had to stay focused. Taking a sip of his soda, Leo leaned on his arms and leaned closer to her causing her to lean a little as well. As he gestured for her to lean closer, which she obliged, the turtle smirked and flashed his dazzling pearly whites and winked at her. Letting out an annoyed scoff, Kalani began to slide out of the booth and stand as she straightened out her dress.

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, then this was a waste of my time. Good evening.” She said in a cold tone.

But a hand grabbed her forearm. Not tight, but not weak either. Looking back at the three digit hand that had her arm, she looked over to Leo who was sweating bullets. He was desperate, something that she had not seen from this turtle. Leo on the other hand had no clue what she was thinking, she put up her walls thickly to hide what she was thinking real well. But he needed her help and he knew that he could only trust her with this mission. With a soft sight, Kalani sat down but this time by his side. Leo scooted further to give her space and to keep his distance. As she removed her kappa kap and laid it on the table, she turned to him and rested her cheek in her hand.

Leo shifted slightly before rubbing the back of his neck as if he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

‘You’re still just as beautiful as the day we first met.’

“It’s just what, Nardo?” Kalani repeated, making Leo snap out of his daze.

Feeling caught, he thanked the Pizza Supreme in the Sky that the lights were low to hide his burning blush before clearing his throat.

“Look, you’re family. At least, still part of the family. And you know the Hidden City far better than me or my brothers do.” Leo explained. “Please, Kali. We need you. I need you.”

Kalani’s eyes widen slightly, her jaw slack. He wasn’t one to ask her, especially like this. It was throwing her off to see him be vulnerable. Biting the inside of her cheek to try and not sigh she nodded only to see her ex relax in his seat and soon explain everything that had been happening.

Taglist: @asmosshampoo @kitomon @raphsweapondealer @post-apocalyptic-daydream @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch @mysticboombox @infuriatedleprechaun

If you wish to be added or removed, let me know in the comments bellow!

Stay Happy, Stay Healthy, Stay Hydrated and always remember. W.W.L.J.D.

HOT SOUP!!!

#You Sure? Series #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #leonardo x oc #tmnt #tmnt leonardo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt kalani #I finally posted something

5 notes · View notes

livinglegendsinheywood · 1 year

Text

Never Fading Away | Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Finally happy enough to post the first chapter of my CP2077 fic, Never Fading Away.

You can also read it on AO3 here, and Royal Road here!

Still working on my cover creation skills, but 8'D

ONE.

Ironic, V thought, that the City of Dreams never sleeps. And if it wasn’t for netrunners exploiting the substations so frequently, she would’ve assumed Night City stayed lit forever. But was it alive? Corporations and their goons, fighting regular people for their literal lives. And even then, that’s not enough, they want their thoughts and souls now too. She pushed the thought of the Peralez’, remembering that bullshit like that was why she became a merc in the first place: to fight the fucks that wanted to own people like they were real estate.

And now? Now V only had one goal.

From the rooftop of H10, V watched traffic flow by, oblivious to anything but their own journey. Neon signs glared at the walls of skyscrapers, coercing them to cast long shadows over short alleys. The scent of greasy pizza and gasoline vapors wafted by V.

“You scared the fuck outta me, y’know that? Thought you were going to die in there, the way you were bleedin’.”

Johnny shimmered into focus and took a seat on the rooftop ledge in front of V, removing his sunglasses to look out over the city skyline, before giving V his full attention. Slumped in a folding chair, her long teal hair hung in loose waves around her tired and freckled visage. Brilliant blue mecha eyes gave her a familiar once-over before settling somewhere around his boots.

“Nope, still here,” V exhaled, unsure if she felt relief or dismay by that fact.

“We have to get to Mikoshi, V, we’re running outta time if we’re both going to make it out alive,” he started, but pulled up when V shook her head silently. “What? You don’t want to go?”

“Johnny, I barely made it up those fucking stairs to get here, never mind that you had to drag my ass all the way back to Vik’s,” she hissed, aiming an exhausted glare at her feet before sighing, resignation in her voice. “I’m not going to make it to Arasaka Tower. Not like this.”

V lay Viktor’s pistol on her knee, Misty’s pills held loosely in her hand as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. With uncharacteristic hesitation, Johnny took up Misty’s empty chair beside her.

“I could get us there. Your body moves when I’m driving, I could get us into Arasaka, to Mikoshi. Alt said she’d be waiting for us when we get there, all we have to do is show up, smash through ‘Saka security, drop down a few floors, and boom. We’re in.”

She didn’t respond right away, instead picking up the pistol and weighing it in her palm. Johnny watched her, resting his cheek on clasped hands.

“Listen, V. I know I’ve… argued with you about this in the past, but you should know that, at the end of the day, I understand that this is your choice. Your life, your body. You’re the closest thing I’ve got to a best friend, Vale. Whatever you decide, that’s what we’re going with.”

V’s hand shook, wrapping around the pistol tightly. “I know Johnny.”

With a choking sound, V rose and threw the gun as hard as she could over the edge of the rooftop, watching it sail into the darkening world below before turning to stand in front of Silverhand. He stood as V held her hand out flat between them. The remaining pseudoendotrizine lay in her palm.

“You gonna go to Rogue?” she asked, nerves fraying with every word. Johnny nodded once, putting his cigarette out. Swallowing hard, V finally turned her eyes up to his. They watched each other for a long moment.

“I trust you.”

Without another word, V tossed the pills down her throat. She didn’t need to wait long before her vision began to blur, the pseudoendotrizine sinking its teeth into her weakened system. Dizzy, V stumbled towards the edge of the roof, the neon lights below doubling up, when someone clasped her forearm tightly.

“I got you, V. See you on the other side.”

And Night City went dark.

3 notes · View notes

muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Text

LOST IN ITALY.

Where Harry's cute assistant gets lost in city of Italy and the thought of loosing her drives him bullocks.

Flatulent gust of breezy wind kept wiggling through Harry’s coffee lovelocks, sunshine bounces against his soft skin and his pink heart-shaped mouth stays puckered as he takes in the beauty of his surroundings with his cheek smashed over his wrist – which’s resting atop the rooftop of yacht and his head perks up puppy like when tufty giggles maroons in his ears.

He gazes his cute assistant from under his ray bans and skims back a timid smile when her face beams with glee, her cotton puffy sleeved sundress blows away from the breeze giving glimpses of her plump thighs and Harry sucks in a breath snapping his eyes away.

“Harry look s’beautiful!” She squeals taking another picture of landscape with her grandpa's vintage Yoshika camera and Harry just rumbles his lips, shrugs and slumps back, a lazy mumble of “mehhh” elicits past his lips.

She’s just so endearing, and cute and fucking adorable it’s hard for Harry to keep from not babying her.

When he first went to sets of My Policemen he considered her rather unprofessional, as everyone kept on finding her but it seemed like she vanished into thin air, turned out when Harry took a break in his cubby she was lighting up saffron and black scented candles, “Oh! Thought you’d like comin' back to nice smelling room —-- holy fudge .... by the way, me Y/N your new assistant for the meantime.” His all grumpiness defused into bunch of reverence for her.

She'd always beat him to bringing in brekkie and smoothies for him and her fellows, sometimes giving him the velvet muffins before he goes back home --- Harry became such a drooly lovey puppy for her that he decided to keep it stern from then.

He’s trying. He’s prolly gonna fail.

Y/N isn’t very immune to water trips and she was well aware that a sickness is coming – but so soon? She didn’t know that!

So, when she chokes onto nothing and then gags driving Harry into fritz. Harry tries to keep his balls in place and not panic because that’d just spill his secret and expose him.

He quickly facades himself under stoniness, “Christ! Y/N if you die on me —-,” Though, grabs her elbow lightly and walks her to the edge of the deck.

Y/n smacks his hand away. Glares him and grunts pushing her hair away aggressively, “Don’t tell me what to do I’ll die wherever the hell I want!” His pupils resembling to that of clashing waves of sea blows away comically as she huffs and pushes past him.

“Better die and ghost you for life.” She gags into her elbow again and he rushes to grab her hand, when she pulls away with a tut he rolls his eyes brings his glasses to the bridge of his nose and looks at her from under the brown sunnies, “Jeez just holdin' a hand, not gonna slip a ring, ‘s that what yer afraid of.”

“Just admit you’re desperate to hold my hand.” She smirks up at him and he cackles, then dims into nervous chuckles because oh fuck he’s getting caught red handed.

“No.” He mutters.

How much she resists not to pout and turn all fussy over his denial she ends up doing so and it’s his turn to smirk cheekily at her.

“Are you mad? You look mad.” He wiggles his finger at her and she grumbles folding her arms infront of her bosom and cranes her head to side, “I’m not mad.”

“Yer pretty face’s all screwed up, like you’re mad.” He nibbles at her and she glowers him --- sighing at last, the wisp of her hair falling in her eyes, her lips plush and glossy from sick.

“I’m perturbed, not mad.”

Then there’s an overrated pause of silence and heartbeats before Harry pokes her knee.

“You still look mad.” His face splits into a wide cheeky grin – showing his bunny teeth and she stands up hastily wobbling a little.

“’M’not mad! But I’ll be soon Harry Styles!!!!” She goes for smacking him at chest but he jerks back and sneaks his way out squealing annoyingly, “Mommy come save me from this feisty sea-creature.”

“You mean a mermaid?” She giggles.

“No. Frogfish.” He deadpans.

“I’m not talking to you ever again!” She cries out and turns away from him but he barks out a laugh --- riling her up is the most entertaining thing and seeing her make cute fussy faces another.

“’Kay, sorry! Wouldn’t do it again.” He toddles behind her and glides his forearm against her clavicles bringing her to his front, “Says this everytime!” She squirms pushing him away but he’s ten times stronger than her and even if she’s ... she’d want to spend some more time like this.

“Wouldn’t call ye' frogfish —-.. from now on.” She nods. Humming in agreement and he turns her, holding her from shoulders and looks down at her with glinting eyes and wide toothy mouth.

“How ‘bout blobfish? They look more funny.”

“I’m gonna kill you, Harry Styles!”

They were given a loft infront of the shore 10 minutes drive away from the shooting place and after fighting over who'll occupy the bed, bickering and pillow fighting over it and almost making it creaky loose bench Y/N went back to living room telling him that he snores so much, “Sorry but ‘m too sensitive to piggy snorey noises – better sleep outside.” He was fuming and gritty mess, flailing his limbs like a baby because he was “the hair on his directors head” away from sharing the bed with her.

“Whateva! your loss. Don’t come t'me beggin’ to pop your backbones.” He told her in high pitched mimickness and flumped under cool sheets.

His one hour nap turned into two then three. In the meantime, Y/N made a sandwich from the fresh veggies piled in the fridge, sipped onto her matcha drink sitting beside the window and enjoyed he view, even went through her socials.

Realized that she’s missing him around her terribly even if it’s just jokes and giggles and shit, whatever, so she took her camera and went outside to take pictures of shore and the purple sky battling with hue of clouds.

She got so charmed with Italy's beauty that she kept on walking and taking pictures, only to realize when the bustle of crowd dropped into tranquil quietness and she found herself into some unknown street.

She’s fucked.

She’s lost.

She has got nothing,

Not even her phone.

She contemplates to knock on the house doors and ask for locations but she’s petrified of the idea and tries to find some shop, so she could call someone and ask them to pick her up.

Dumb. Dumb. Dumbest decision, she has ever taken in her life.

When she sees no passer by, none tourists no-one in sight and the daylight defusing and darkness laughing and taunting her tears springs in her eyes --- bubbling at the corners and weeping down furiously.

Her heartbeats drops dead when she sees a group of men approaching towards her. She runs away hiding into the dark tunnel and clamps her mouth shut from crying out loud when they walk away -- they weren’t about to do anything to her – it was just her feared instincts.

“Harry ......” She whisper-cries into her wrist, her legs weak and trembly making her tumble down into dusty stoned pavement, her back getting scratched from the bricked wall of tunnel.

Harry woke up to pin-drop silence. Void of the sun that was once glimmering through the window, “Y/N.” He grogs out, knuckling the sleepiness away and trudged out finding the room empty.

It startles him. Waking him up properly now. A sweat flushes down his spine when he couldn’t even find her in the washroom and at the door-steps.

He dials her number and finds it at the coffee table, gruff cruses breathes out from his mouth at that.

FuckFuckFuckFuck.

His heart feels like someone’s squeezing it mercilessly in their grip when he goes outside, but couldn’t spot her and he finds it difficult to breathe, chest heaving as he snaps his head in every direction to look for the face he’s oh so in love with.

Where are you, Y/N?

Maybe, she’s angry with me? Did I hurt her in any way? Oh, fuck. I’m such a bitch.

Now, she’s angry with me and hiding in some corner cursing me out.

I have to bring her back.

So, he calls anyone in connection with Y/N in hopes that she’s with anyone of them and when there were, “no mate --- maybe check in the washroom...” and “last time she texted, said she’s going out to take pictures.”

Harry’s face pales at that. Sick to his stomach. His fists tighten by his sides to keep his calm the world around him spins for a moment and he stables himself with the nearby railing.

Bad thoughts spirals in his mind, how much he avoids them it frightens him like his worst enemy.

What if she’s hurt? It hurts him in heart even to think that.

Got into an accident and they took her?

Fuck.

What if some mafia has kidnapped her.

Obviously, Italy is famous for mafias ..... No!No!No! Harry shut up, shut up, shut uppppp!!

He screams internally to pause everything and think rationally.

He searches for her everywhere. In every street. His feet hurting until now and he chokes onto a sob, not even wanting to think of getting police involved and still not able to have her back.

He shouts for her name. Halting past anyone looking like her, that mini dress she flaunted infront of him with a gorgeous smile –-- asked him how it looked on her and he wasn’t very interested to give a response.

If he could take all of it back and praised her like his life depended on it, only if he’d told her how much he loves her, her making sure he’s comfortable in his cubby, her bringing cold milk drinks for him, dividing her oreos with him.

His hands shakes by his side, his lip twitching constantly and his legs trembles pathetically with each step he takes.

He stops. Narrows his eyes to squint through the darkness and he feels like someone blew oxygen back in his lungs, his knees weakening at the sight of some girl sitting on the bench, her shoulders slump and her head downwards as she clutches the edge of bench, rocking on it with quite sniffles.

He prays that it’s her.

Upon, hearing the footsteps Y/N looks up and those sweet eyes are enough for him to recognize her in between many people.

“Harry?” Her voice feeble and scared.

“Oh baby .....” He mumbles. Rushing towards her, stumbling back a bit when she flies in his arms and latches to him like the missing piece of her body.

His palms curves into her ribs, her face smashed into the crook of her neck – her tears wetting his skin instantly and his cheek squished atop her sweaty hair, he hugs her for dear life making her legs dangle in the air, she sobs nuzzling deeper into his throat and he caresses her shoulders to soothe her cries down. Kisses the side of her temple with tender affection and sighs in relief.

“Shhh. Shh baby, ‘s okay. I’ve found y’now ..... ‘m here sweetheart ‘s alright.” He doesn’t stop splodging soft pecks to her forehead – scared that if he’ll she’ll get lost from his arms again.

Her hiccups painful not letting her take a breather and Harry puts her down on her feet gently, taking her face in his clammy hands and hooks his thumb into her hair gazing into her glassy eyes intensely, “Hey look at me lovie’ just .. focus on me alright?” She nods at his plea grabbing his wrists and follows his breathing pattern.

He glances back at the bench and goes to grab her camera but she cries out fisting the hem of his corduroy shirt in her tiny hands, “No!” could barely choke out from her dry throat and he turns his attention back down onto her, strokes the rosy apple of her cheeks and pets her head.

“Not leavin’ yer side baby .. was bout to get your camera fo’ you. Could come with me if you don’t like stayin' away.” He assures her softly and trots towards the bench with his arms still around her as she keeps on hiding her face into his bicep.

They walk down the street like that, she has calmed down letting a sniffle slip here and there --- this kind of scenario has never happened to her before – she has never been outside of her home city before too.

He feels her tummy screech for food so asks her, chin butted atop her head, “You’re hungry, petal. Let’s get pizza.” She doesn’t feel like eating though. When she shakes her head – squeezing him more. He takes her from shoulders looking down at her with gentleness and brushes a strand of hair behind.

“Just a tad, darlin'. I know a delicious take away round the corner ... could eat it sittin' by shore.” He offers her with a smile and punches the air happily, whistling when she agrees.

When she giggles softly, defrosting back from numbness Harry spins them a little overly gleeful.

“Got me sweet girl back.” He exclaims ducking down to kiss her cheek and now when she’s less wobblish, her lungs fills with bunches of butterflies.

Blush splatters on her features. As Harry aligns his tanned arm with her delicate one and locks their fingers together lulling it backs and forth between them lovingly.

He keeps her tucked under his chin and snuggled in his arms all the time, even while waiting in the line for the take away.

“Ow!” Squeaks, “Ow. Ow.” Jumps on his tippy toes upon balancing the hot pizza on his palm.

Grins like a mad man when succeeds in making her laugh, takes her hand and helps her climb down slippery stones.

Goosebumps arises on her skin from shyness when he coils his strong arm around her to pick her up, with pizza in his other hand and giggles breathily in her ear upon hearing her squeals.

She sits in between his knees. Leans against his chest and inhales his woodsy vanilla scent, nibbles onto the crust while hearing his heartbeat.

“You scared the living hell out of me, lovie’ ... thought —-... thought I’d never be able to have you back again ... proper vanished.” He croaks out. Runs his nose up and down the sweet curve of her neck.

“Made me realise ... that I don’t want to be away from you, ever.” Y/n's breath hitches at that and she turns in his embrace. Looks at him with surprised doe eyes and coos when his eyes gloss over with wetness, that he’s forcing to keep at waterline.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

“You do?” She gasps.

He bobs his head giddily, “Can you picture it? You and I together?” He murmurs mellow street light dancing between them.

“’Us'? I like the sound of that....” She smiles searching for his hand and he grasps it eagerly like he was yearning for it.

“Kay then, when could I take you on a date?” He grins. Dimples mauving deep and pretty.

“This isn’t a date?”

“We’re in Italy. The sky's so romantic and I’ve got you, seems like a date to me....” She peppers kisses to each rosy gap of his knuckles and his inside bursts like they never did before.

“Kay then. It’s memorable too, you got lost on our first day –--”

“Harryyyy....” She whines nudging him in belly with her elbow. “’Kay we could change that.” He laughs. Showering her in kisses and her laughs whirls loudly into quite air, trying to squirm away from his tickles.

939 notes · View notes

shapooda · 2 years

Note

Hi, I just wanted to thank you because you're the reason I got into GrimmIchi. I found your fanfics on ao3 and then your Tumblr, I fell in love with your stories and your art!

I would like to know if maybe you could do a list of the best GrimmIchi fanfics you have read so far?

(After seeing your last reblog I immediately looked for "The Stars Rained Down Like Embers" on ao3 and I'm ready to binge read it)

I hope you have a nice day xx

I'm so flattered ; ~ ; I usually hear the opposite, so it's extra flattering that you liked my writing first /w\ Everything I'm about to list isn't everything, just thelonger ones I find myself frequenting, or head over heels in love with! My bookmarks list is short uwu you can find them all there as well! You already know this first one ~ The Stars Rained Down Like Embers | @copperscript Seven years ago, the star-deity Ichigo disappeared from the night sky. As the invasion of his homeland rages on, warrior Grimmjow is losing faith in the god he once revered. But when a nameless ryoka boy stumbles into his camp, he soon learns he is not as alone as he believes. All The Devils Are Here | ChildoftheAshes, Plouton

Two stumbling steps from Ichigo, two smooth ones from Pantera, and they’re waltzing away from the knives, swirling semi-gracefully across the rooftop. A foot behind Ichigo’s ankle trips him backwards. Pantera dips him, catches him a few feet off the floor with a thigh and the third knife of the night buried in his back.“Kiss me, darlin’~” The Fucking Hollow Hole Verse | quarter_life_crisis me: I want to write a stupid little crackfic about fucking hollow holes also me: but I want it to have, like, emotional depth, y’know? Strangers, Again | @Copperscript

[Reverse AU] There lives a Hollow in Hueco Mundo, a terrifying creature of black fire and red blood, who defies everything the Shinigami thought they knew about Hollows. It has taken notice of Gotei Captain Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Grimmjow, in turn, is enthralled. My teeth ache to taste you | Aegrisomnia89

Grimmjow POV. Random encounter before Ichigo goes to Hueco Mundo leaves Grimmjow Feeling Things In His Chest. Pity he doesn't know how to articulate a single one of them. Howling Outside Your Door | Asuka Kureru (Askerian)

There's a barrier around the house, but it's not made to stop an Espada. It's more of a notice-me-not, he thinks, pressing his bloody hand to it -- leaning too hard into it when his knee buckles under Yylfordt's negligible weight. It bows under the push of his hand and then lets him slide through up to the elbow; the spiritual pressure it's holding back rushes in prickles of heat against his palm. It's made to hide Kurosaki's resting place from prowling hollows. Yeah. Yeah, that's... Real close to perfect. If. Perfect, if." In," he hisses, reaching out to snatch Di Roy's thin wrist, yanking him through under a shielding burst of reiatsu he doesn't have to spare. He doesn't need to spare it, not anymore; either they're gonna be okay or they're gonna be left stranded to die, there's no alternatives. Cat Dandy 🐆 | murderlight

“Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez is dead,” Nel said calmly, staring him straight in the eye. “He died inside Askin’s final trap, and his body was never recovered.”Grimmjow's fight with Askin Nakk le Vaar leads to unexpected consequences--and an old life he never wanted to see again. Ichigo's victory over Yhwach sees him lose more than he gained.Or: Grimmjow is a panther adjuchas again, and Ichigo has no goddamn idea. Not Grimmichi, but it inspired me to write Zenith, which became Grimmichi, and I love it to pieces. Hogyoku ex Machina | Mac Ceallach In the final battle with Aizen a different choice is made, and now Ichigo and his greatest enemy have gone back to the beginning. His best friends are powerless, his allies don't know him, and everything he loves is in danger. No non-canon pairings. Complete, with the sequel now posted. Let Me Drown | ShadowThorne After being brutally attacked by a mythical creature, Captain Jaegerjaquez ends up with a very unlikely companion to keep him company while at sea. Unfortunately, it's hard for an 8' long merman to hide for long. One day, the loyal crew spots the monster that had injured their captain, following the ship and the man aboard, and take matters into their own hands. Other authors I love! Chujellies: Angst and Grimmichi. Deep and bittersweet, I like it. Dante_Morgan: Funny and canon parallels with that fucking edge I LOVE AH audiosilver: Angsty again lol Very in the moment writing, which I dig uwu Messier_47: Flowery and very Hell hath no fury with a lot of porn a la mode~

#fic rec #grimmichi #many fics #look at them #Dont be sad if you're not here #I'ts 1am and I might have forgetti spaghetti #bleach #grimmjow #kurosaki ichigo #shapooda

226 notes · View notes

xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

Adorable - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Crack, Cursing, slice of life, Bakugou kinda ooc but still lovable

Summary: Honestly it’s just some scenarios of Bakugou and Y/N being an adorable couple. It’s also just some moments in their lives as a couple

“Annnddd....done!” You squealed as you got your setup ready. You were currently setting up a cupcake tower on a table after you spent days baking. UA needed some funds so they set up a little event to raise money. Students could either participate in raising money or giving money and Y/N chose to do a little cupcake sale to help out. What a sweetheart.

“It looks amazing Y/N,” Mina said as she tried to grab a cupcake. You smacked her hand away before she snatched one. “Ow!”

“Those aren’t free Mina, they’re important too.” You explained as you picked up a stack of flyers to pass out.

“I know they’re important! They’re gonna save my life! I didn’t get to eat breakfast and I’m starvingggg.” You laughed at your best friend before you took a few steps away from your table to pass out the papers.

“Well unless you pay for it, you can’t have it. Besides, I put a lot of work into them. I spent a week in the kitchen and I just spent 4 hours setting up the table. Cant let them go to waste and just give ‘em for free.” you said as you gave away the flyers.

What you didn’t realize was that behind you at your table, Bakugou and Kirishima had stumbled upon your cupcake table and silently went in to grab one. Unfortunately, they weren’t the most graceful and tipped over your entire setup. They looked at each other in shock and quickly scrambled to fix their mistake as you were distracted. The boys picked up the table and quickly went to gather the cakes.

“I put a lot of time into them. There’s sugar free, dairy free-“

“Do you have any that are just free free? I’m really hungry.” Mina whined and you gave in.

“Fine, I’ll let you have a cupcake if you help me with the sale. You can make sure the table stays neat and tidy!” you bargained to which Mina agreed. However, as you said that, Bakugou had tipped the table again after he bumped into it while picking up cupcakes and Kirishima gave him a look that screamed ‘duuudeee seriously?!’ As he was on his knees picking up the sweets.

“Hey, maybe we can get Bakugou and Kirishima to help us too!” Mina offered.

“Ehh, I don’t know. They’d probably just want to eat everything,” you warned as you hung up one flyer.

“I doubt they’d put food in their mouths if it meant helping the school.” She tried to defend them but behind your backs, the boys panicked when they didn’t know what to do and just stuffed the cakes in their mouths. They left evidence all over their hands and face.

“Well, let’s get this bake sale started!” You said and when you both turned around to face your table, you saw it on the ground along with a few cupcakes. The rest of them were in the hands and mouths of Kirishima and Bakugou as you both watched them continue to chow down on the desserts. Once they noticed you guys staring they froze, dropped the cupcakes, pointed towards each other, and spoke with full mouths at the same time.

“.....he did it.” They both said with frosting and cake all in their hands, mouths, and faces.

—

Here’s the situation. Y/N has been directed to keep a low profile due to her being targeted by a few villains. She wasn’t down for that especially since her and Bakugou were a duo. She knew Bakugou could handle himself but it made her feel better knowing they were both looking out for each other on the field. And so, to keep fighting by his side, she went under an Alias hero name, Blaze, and gave herself a new look for the time being. She wore a very subtle and natural wig, different makeup, and wore a bandana mask that covered half her face.

Bakugou of course knew who she was, along with the rest of the former students in 1-A, but they went along with it so that Y/N can continue to fight. Unfortunately, “Blaze,” grew popular as people began to notice Bakugou’s “new” hero partner and eventually, the duo got an interview that wanted an inside scoop on all things Blaze. So here we are at that interview.

“You know Dynamight, I think I like this new partner better than H/N,” the interviewer said. Bakugou and the rest of 1-A grew a shocked and fearful look on their faces once those words left the poor man’s mouth.

“Excuse me?” Y/N aka Blaze said.

“Well, Blaze, I think you just have this special something that H/N never had. And, I think you’re more talented than her.” Ironic since the man is speaking to the same girl just with a different name. Once he said that though, the former students all grew shocked faces that were the embodiment of “😧😯” as they awaited for Y/N’s reply.

“Heh...what?” Y/N laughed trying to play it off and not be detected, “H/N is brilliant. You have no idea what you are talking about,” Y/N said with a slight smile but 100% attitude. Bakugou looked at his girlfriend with hesistant eyes as he was worried she would kill the man.

“I think I do,” the man started, “see, you just bring this fresh new look for Dynamight that H/N never brought.”

Bakugou was pissed this man was talking about his Y/N like that but he was in the eye of the public and had to keep a cool cover and so he quickly jumped to try and save this interviewer from Y/N’s wrath.

“H/N was also fresh! Heh..some might even say that H/N and Blaze have the same amount of ..fre-freshness.” Bakugou tried to counter but the man kept going.

“Well in my opinion, Y/N L/N wasnt an impactful or important part of your success at all. She was overrated.” And Bakugou’s face grew worried and shocked as his head snapped towards Y/N to gaze her reaction.

“Huh! What do you know?! You don’t fight villains or save lives!” Y/N aka Blaze said as she stood from her seat and walked towards the man. “You just sit there with your over-gelled, swoopy hair as you read and ask stupid questions off of stupid cards!” She said and took the cards out of his hands and threw them at the man.

Bakugou was quick to stand and try to take the attention away from the scene. “Hey uh..my-my team will be coming out with new Dynamight merch so stay tuned for that!..heh...”

“And another thing,” Y/N said as her intense stare never left the interviewer’s. “H/N has worked too hard to be treated with such disrespect! Am I right everyone?!” She asked the crowd in the audience as they all cheered in agreement.

“See this is what I’m talking about!” The man said as he stood up with you and Katsuki. “This is that exact fire that Y/N lacks!”

“Oh I’ll show you fire!” You said as you went to jump the man but before you got a chance Bakugou was quick to grab you and throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He turned to the man and apologized and created a casual conversation as you hung from his shoulders, fist-pumping with the crowd as they cheered on your alias name.

“Goodnight everyone!” Bakugou screamed as he ran off with you and out of the building. He took you home and you both had to take a breather from the insane night.

—

“Baby?” Bakugou screamed into your dorm room as he couldn’t find you. He just got back from a training session in the forest with Aizawa and had been looking for you all day. He just wants to see his teddy bear.

“Baby?” Checked the common rooms..nothing.

“Babyyy?” Checked the kitchens...nope.

“Y/N?” Checked the school..not here either.

“Teddy Bear?” Checked the gym..you already know. Bakugou got tired and went to the rooftop.

“TEDDY BEAARRRRRRRR!!!!” He screamed to the world. He still got nothing but then he heard feet running up the stairs and the door bust open. He turned in hopes of it being his loving girlfriend but instead he saw his 4 friends.

“BAKUGOU! SHUT UP!” They all screamed at him.

“Oh shut up idiots! I’m trying to find my girlfriend here!” Bakugou said and as he was getting ready to yell again, the Bakusquad shut him up and dragged him to his dorm room.

“Did you check there?!” Mina asked and she and the rest of the squad walked away. Bakugou walked in and saw you peacefully sleeping in his bed and out of nowhere his annoyed thoughts all left him as he smiled at your slumbering state. He took off his bags and shoes as he jumped into bed with you and smothered your face in quick kisses.

You finally woke up to the ticklish feeling of your loving boyfriend and giggled as he assaulted you with his love. “Hey baby, what’s up?”

“I’ve been looking for you Princess,” Bakugou said as his lips were on your cheek. His face was smooshed into yours as he inhaled your sweet scent. He loved it here.

“You need something, love?” You asked as you turned to face him. You watched as Bakugou just nodded his head and poked his lips out. Yes. Bakugou Katsuki did all that searching and yelling for a single peck on the lips from you. It was all he craved for and he was gonna get it. You smiled as you rolled your eyes and gave in. The sweet peck was enough to make Bakugou combust as he sighed in satisfaction and flopped onto his bed, bringing you down with you him.

“Thank you!” He said with shut eyes and a contempt smile.

“Sure babe, anytime,” you said as you cuddled into him and drifted back off to sleep. Katsuki following you, dreaming about giving you even more kisses.

—

Y/N had been meditating. Due to her quirk, it was good that she’d get some R&R during these peaceful and quiet states. Until her boyfriend walked in. Bakugou Katsuki, who is very much the opposite of peaceful and quiet.

“Baby?” He asked. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He said with a pretty chirpy attitude and a small smile.

“Go away,” you smiled sweetly at him for a second before turning back around.

“THAT’S JUST MEAN!”

—

A/N: idk I thought this was cute :/

489 notes · View notes

vampireoutofbusiness · 3 years

Text

If You're the Sun, I'm the Moon

NAVIGATION

Pairing: Peter x Avenger!reader

Warnings: Swearing, typos cuz it's 4 am

Request: Could you write about reader organizing a date and buying Peter flowers for a change, and he’s really stressed so it means a lot to him

Synopsis: You surprise Peter with a date night to give him a break and show him how much you appreciate him

a/n: soft peter has my heart, I want to hold and kiss him

Want to request something? Click Here

*Do not repost my work anywhere, reblogs are appreciated*

this picture of him is absolutely adorable i cant-

Recently, Peter had been working really hard in school and as Spider-man. He spent all of his free time - when he wasn’t fighting crime -studying for finals. If it was up to him he wouldn’t do any school work and would spend all of his time with you.

You, on the other hand, had a lot of free time when you weren’t doing something that was part of being an Avenger. You decided to surprise your boyfriend with a date. The whole thing was planned out for the two of you to go to dinner which you made a reservation for at a nice Italian place.

Then, you’d take him to the roof of the compound where you’d play music and maybe slow dance. And you had blankets to lay on and watch the stars. The whole thing was kind of cliché but your boy deserved it.

He spent so much time worrying about everyone else, especially you. People tried taking advantage of his generosity sometimes which didn’t get far, thanks to you.

He took every chance he got to tell you he loved you or that you looked beautiful. You definitely returned the favor but you wanted to do something big to show how much you appreciated him and all that he did.

You picked up your phone and called your boyfriend since he just got out of school.

“Hey,” he answered, his tone telling you how happy he was that you called.

“Hey, so I’m gonna need you to skip patrol tonight,”

“Why is that?”

“We’re doing something, and you have no way out,” you sighed, a tease in your tone.

“Then I guess I’m not patrolling tonight- what are we doing instead?” He asked, curiosity in his voice.

“That is for me to know and for you to find out, just dress nice and I’ll pick you up at seven,”

“Okay, now I really want to know,”

“Nope, see you tonight, I love you,”

“Fine…I love you too,”

Now, you needed to get the roof ready for that romantic stargazing and get yourself ready. You also needed to pick up flowers on your way to Peter’s apartment.

You settled for a bouquet of sunflowers from a flower stand you drove by. They were perfect because it wasn’t that he was like the flowers, he was the sun. You felt drawn to him, he made you feel alive, now isn’t that something?

He’s bright and beautiful, all he had to do was smile and he made you happy. And you knew he wasn’t really happy like that all of the time. But, you made sure he was loved and taken care of when he wasn’t shining, although you really did that all of the time. Hence, this date night.

You also looked fucking amazing because you didn’t know when the next time was that you’d be able to do this with Peter. Granted, he thinks you look good in a random pair of pajama pants with a t-shirt from an obscure store that doesn’t match at all.

He was checking himself in the mirror when he heard you knock on the front door. He hoped he looked as good as he knew you did.

His breath hitched when he opened the door and he saw you and the flowers in your hands.

“You look so pretty,” he gave you a timid smile.

“As do you,” you handed him the flowers and slid your hands down the front of his suit jacket, admiring him. He. Is. Fucking. Adorable.

“Wait- you- these are for me?” His was voice soft and he pointed to himself.

“Yes, my sunshine, they are,”

He grew the proudest smile on his face and examined them, taking small glances at you because HOLY SHIT you got flowers for him and he’s never gotten flowers from someone.

“Thank you,” he pulled you into a hug, his free hand squeezing your waist.

“Of course,” you pulled your head back and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” He asked as you fixed his tie for him because he’s never gotten the hang of it.

“It’s a surprise, now do you have a vase for-,"

“I want to hold them,” he wrapped his arms around the flowers as if he was hugging them.

“You’re taking them on the date?” You raised your eyes brows and chuckled when he nodded, a small pout on his face, “okay, whatever you want,”

When your car made it to the restaurant, Peter looked at you with amazement.

“We’re eating here?”

“Yep,” you rubbed your thumb on his thigh where your hand was resting for the entirety of the ride.

He loved when you did that, his stomach was doing flips even if he was used to it.

When you got seated (including Peter’s flowers), Peter looked at the menu and you could tell what he was going to ask.

“Yes, it’s spendy. No, you will not be paying a pretty penny,” you told him, not looking up from your own menu.

He sighed at your stubbornness but continued looking for what he wanted.

“Spaghetti, please, and can you ask them to cut it?” He asked, his voice quiet out of embarrassment that he was too anxious to order for himself.

“Yep,” you smiled and reached for his hand across the table.

You really didn’t mind handling most of the talking when you were together, you knew he got nervous and if you could relieve his stress, then you were happy to order for him.

You spent most of the dinner laughing and getting weird looks from people because you and Peter might have dressed the part, but this place was way too posh. Still, having time with him all to yourself was everything you wanted.

After you finished and paid, he thanked you so much to the point that you glared when he wouldn’t stop. You loved treating him because he deserved the world.

“Why are we going to the compound?” He asked when it clicked in his mind you were en route to there.

“Patience,” you winked and he sighed, his curiosity boiling inside of him.

The both of you heard faint music playing as you went up the stairs to the roof and you opened the door for him when you got to the top. He looked around at what you had set up, the sunflowers still in his hands.

A speaker, held by Pietro, was playing Talking to the Moon and several blankets and pillows were laid out for the two of you.

“Thanks,” you told Pietro and you took the speaker from him.

“I get my fiver later, right?” He asked as he made his way to the door for the stairwell.

“Right,” you assured him before grabbing Peter’s hand, guiding him over to the “bed” you made, and laying down, "come here,”

You opened your arms and he immediately fell into them, his head resting on your chest. He snaked his arms around your waist and you pulled a blanket over the two of you.

“The view of the night sky is so much better out here than in the polluted city,” he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Pretty, right?” You kept your eyes on the stars twinkling above you.

“Yes, you are,” he rested his chin on your chest, his eyes appreciating the moonlight beaming down on you.

Speaking of beaming, Peter was insanely happy right now. The amount of work you put in for him to have a nice night made his heart beat faster each time he thought about you. He felt so lucky.

“Why thank you, but don’t you want to stargaze, not me-gaze?” You chuckled and cupped his cheeks.

“If I’m sunshine then y- you’re moonlight,” he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“If you’re the sun, I’m the moon,” you looked up at the full moon, illuminating the rooftop, “how poetic,”

“Thank you so much,”

“It’s no problem, I’m very lyrical,” your voice was bleeding with sarcasm and he rolled his eyes.

“I mean for tonight, I really needed it,” his eyes were soft and he placed a kiss on your cheeks.

“Anything for the light of my life,” you shrugged as if it was nothing before pulling him down to your lips again.

The kiss was slow and full of so much love. You could stay here, in this moment forever, if it meant you could keep everything bad away from this boy. In reality, you couldn’t. But, you could do everything in your power to be his safe place and show him how much you loved him.

“Can I do anything else to relieve your stress?” You asked, a small smirk on your face as you brought a leg around his waist and swiftly flipped the two of you over.

He looked up at you hovering over him, a light blush across his cheeks.

“What did you have in mind?”

=======

Taglist:

@avengersbitch @criminalyetminimal @Simp4ronaldw @quaksonhehe @marthakookie @annajschuler3000 @t-bag2

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #mcu #spiderman #peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker scenerios #imagine #peter parker imagine #avenger!reader #fluff

210 notes · View notes

soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Useful Part 2

fluff with a little hurt and comfort. If you want answers as to the lack of angst, look through my recent posts for an explanation.

—* — * — * —* —*

“Wait, you have a WHAT?” were the first words that the rest of the Gotham-based vigilantes heard when they finally were able to track down where Damian had gone. Dick looked over at Bruce, who was noticeably tense. No surprise there, the man had just found out that he had a second biological child. One who was apparently a superhero already, without his intervention, and also apparently had a tragic background in the League of fucking Assassin Assholes. Not to mention that Damian’s track record with meeting siblings wasn’t great, even if this one wasn’t actually new to him. Nobody had any real fear of Damian relapsing on his no-kill rule, they knew he had matured far too much to be at risk of killing for something as immature as sibling rivalry anymore.

But there was still fear. Because this new Wayne was an Unknown Factor, and as a rule the Bats hated Unknown Factors. And they had no idea what the relationship between the two had been before they had been separated, or what it would become now.

“That wasn’t Damian’s voice,” Dick helpfully pointed out the obvious. Bruce only frowned, doing his best (and failing) to hide his anxiety about what they would find. Silently, the group inched forward to the edge of the abandoned building they were on top of so that they could look over at what was happening. What they saw was a girl, presumably the same one who had been in a ladybug onesie and had fearlessly begun to ask them to leave Paris— until she had laid proper eyes on Robin and fled, that was. That girl was sitting down next to an unmasked Damian, who had his arm around her shoulders and let her lean into his side. He even smirked cheerfully at her question before continuing to speak to her.

“A dragon-bat. I knew you’d love hearing about him, I’ll introduce you when you come visit the Batcave. His name is Goliath,” Damian admitted smugly. Despite the familiar attitude and pride behind his words though, his spying family couldn’t help but notice that he kept periodically rubbing the girl’s (they really needed to find out her name) shoulder in reassurance. None of them missed the tear tracks on both of their faces, or how red the girl’s eyes were. Clearly they had missed something big.

But nobody wanted to try to figure that out yet. This scene was too precious, too breathtaking for them to interrupt just yet. They had never seen Damian this vulnerable around someone outside of their little circle before, someone from the Time Before Bruce, no less. Most of the time, only Nightwing was able to see this side to Damian. And usually the roles were reversed, with Damian being the one consoled. They had never seen him in the position of the comforter before. The pillar of support.

It really cemented just how far he had come.

So they watched silently as the girl flinched, pulling away a bit and hunching in on herself. The laugh she let out was small and overflowing with self-degradation.

“You make it sound as if the rest of your family actually wants me to visit,” she replied sourly. Damian gently cuffed her over the head, frowning.

“Two things,” he held up two fingers from his free hand. “One: They will. They accepted me, and I was— well, you remember how I used to be. Once they actually meet you, and process the fact that there’s another Wayne now, they will bombard you with more welcoming than you will know what to do with. Two: It’s Our family, Marinette. Not mine, ours.”

Well, at least they had a name now. But it seems like they had bigger issues now, like Marinette’s clearly damaged sense of self. Jason and Tim traded knowing glances; it wasn’t hard for them to guess where, or how, she might have been damaged enough to think so lowly of herself.

They watched as Marinette shook her head.

“I don’t know. It’s one thing to try to… to get to know you again. We used to be close before… everything,” she haltingly argued, voice small and frail and uncertain. But she never once looked away from Damian’s eyes, trying to convey as best as she could what she was feeling. “But they’re different. They don’t have any reason to trust or like me, Dami. And I’m bad at, well everything, but especially,” she waved her hands frantically as if indicating the whole situation they were in. “I mean, listen to me! I can barely articulate right now, and I’m talking to someone I’ve known my whole life! I’m a mess. Nobody wants a mess.”

It was Damian’s turn to snort, and he pulled her right back into his side. “Please. If anything, that’s exactly the type of child Father goes looking for. We’re all a mess. Especially Father, trust me.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” she accused suspiciously, but sank into his sideways embrace anyway. Damian chuckled.

“No, I’m being honest. He’s terrible at emotions, not that I really have much room to talk. We all are pretty bad with them. But he’s the most obvious when it comes to that issue,” Damian smirked over at his sister conspiratorially. “For example. He still tries to tell people that he works alone, and pushes people away because he has this intense desire to protect, but doesn’t know how to say “I don’t want you to get hurt, stop worrying me,” so instead he says “Go away, I don’t need you,” only for us to see through that nonsense and remind him that the amount of people in his team is in the double digits already. He doesn’t want to admit he cares about us and is vulnerable—”

“Sounds familiar,” Marinette teased with a watery grin, startling a short laugh from her twin. He nudged her a little roughly (but not to roughly) and playfully glared at her. Marinette just giggled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied with a grin before waving his free hand in dismissal. “Anyway. Another example. He has no idea how to tell a stranger, “hey, I’m your father and I will not reject you. In fact, I’m completely willing to adopt you right this moment and whisk you away to Gotham and relative safety and hire an entire team of therapists to help you and buy you half the world if you asked for it,” so instead he and the rest of our emotionally constipated family just lurks on the edge of a building in broad daylight eavesdropping on us and expects us not to notice.”

“Wait what,” Marinette’s gaze instantly whipped up towards the sky, taking only half a second to locate the aforementioned eavesdroppers. Everyone except Bruce at least had the courtesy to duck down and pretend not to be there when they noticed she had seen them, leaving Batman standing seemingly alone on the concrete roof. Marinette blinked once. Twice. Then turned to Damian. “I’m gonna blame the fact that I didn’t notice them on emotional turmoil, because there is no way I’ve gotten THAT rusty.”

Damian smiled, but didn’t laugh. He knew that was a deflection to try and distract from Marinette’s quickly resurging self-consciousness. Her hands were already trembling again, and the fear from only minutes ago had resurfaced. The insecurity. He could practically see the words “I’m not good enough,” written in her irises.

“You’ll be fine,” he whispered, standing up and pulling her with him. “If anyone has to worry here, it’s me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marinette whisper-hissed right back, eyes wide in disbelief and confusion. “You’re— You! Mister Perfect!”

Damian rolled his eyes, and his self-deprecating smirk matched the laugh Marinette had given just a few minutes earlier. “For the League, maybe,” he shrugged. “Never the Wayne family. Which is why I know you’ll be fine. If they put up with everything I’ve done and still call me one of them, they’ll accept you with barely a second thought.”

Marinette’s next argument was cut off by the sound of a dozen soft footfalls stirring up dirt not far ahead of them. The BatClan had landed from the rooftop.

Marinette gulped.

But if there was one thing— one thing she still remembered from her days as Marie Al-Ghul, it was how to fake pride and confidence. She straightened her shoulders automatically, lifted her chin, and pulled away from Damian’s supporting arm around her shoulder. Damian let her.

A little bit of old resentment flared up in him as he saw Batman walk up close enough to comfortably talk with them. Resentment that he no longer held onto, but that had haunted him nearly every night of the first two years he spent with his dad. The realization that maybe his twin was the one that was meant to be a Wayne. Marie had the blue eyes, the compassion, the more specifically detective-oriented mind. The calm head. Sometimes. Marie was exactly who he imagined when he thought of a naturally born member of the BatClan. Stubborn, clever, morally just. She had risked immediate death just because she refused to fight him, for crying out loud. Because she didn’t want to hurt the boy who used to be her best friend. The only ally she had ever had, growing up.

Meanwhile, he still had issues reigning in his anger sometimes. He had too much blood on his hands, he was more of a battlefield tactician than a long-term strategist. Still stubborn, but also completely unaware of the pain he brought others with his words or actions a lot of the time. He used to be such a rage fueled little demon, and thinking about how his sister fit the classic Wayne outline more thoroughly than he did had made him destroy more than a few practice dummies in frustration.

But now, looking at Marinette trying so hard to appear strong and proud when he knew she was still so shattered inside, relief overpowered the old and dull resentment. This was what she needed, he could sense that easily. She, just like him all those years ago, needed Bruce and the others to start to heal her and reforge what the League had badly molded.

“... Marinette, I suppose?” Damian nearly facepalmed at his father’s awkward attempt at a conversation starter. Marinette herself was clearly too keyed up and overthinking things to even register any amusement at the lame attempt, merely nodding with an overly serious expression on her face.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Monsieur Wayne. Or that’s my name nowadays, that is,” She stumbled a little in her response before clenching her fists and forcing herself to continue as calmly as she could muster up. “My birth name was Marie Al-Ghul.”

Bruce’s eyebrows visibly furrowed underneath his cowl. “Was?”

“I…” Marinette finally looked away, shame creeping back onto her face. “I was explicitly told that I was stripped of the Al-Ghul name and would be killed if I ever dared lay claim to it again. So I not-so-legally changed it. And I was later adopted.”

Several sharp gasps or the hiss of breath through teeth bit through the quiet breeze. Nobody was necessarily surprised, Marinette could see it when she looked through her eyelashes and examined the winces and sympathy on the faces of the vigilantes before her. Batman’s shoulders were stiff, as if someone had paralyzed only his shoulder blades.

“And the people who adopted you?” Batman pursued. Marinette couldn’t read his tone very well, but it sounded vaguely angry so she quickly raised her hands in a placating gesture and her eyes widened significantly.

“They’ve been amazing! They don’t know anything about my past, or who raised me, but they are endlessly patient with me. I mean, honestly! Sabine caught me when I was trying to steal one of her gold bracelets in Hong Kong— and I know I’ve never been as good of a combatant as Dami, but I’ve always been better at sleight of hand and stealth so honestly that’s impressive— and she saw my dirty eight-year-old face and for some reason decided, ‘yeah I want this one as my daughter’ and roped Tom right into it and next thing I know they somehow tailed me to my hideout? I still don’t know how the hell they managed that, but Tom had a huge plate of steaming buns and I was so hungry and suddenly it’s two years later and I’m adopted and we’re on a plane to Paris—” Marinette threw up her hands. “I still don’t fully grasp what happened sometimes.”

She belatedly seemed to realize that she had just gone on an entire breathless rant at the speed of sound, and slapped her hands over her mouth before lunging into a deep bow. “I apologize! I spoke horridly out of turn!”

To her surprise though, she was met with a soft laugh instead of a scolding. She jerked in surprise, whipping her head up only to see Batman holding a hand over his chin to hide his large grin. It only took another second for the boys behind him to laugh a lot LESS softly. Nightwing strolled over casually and swung an arm around both her and Damian’s shoulders, playfully nudging her brother with his knee.

“I think she fits right in, don’t you little D?”

“Of course,” Damian scoffed, though his eyes were playful. “She is a Wayne by blood. She ‘fits in’ more than you strays.”

“Dami!” Marinette whipped back to him and puffed out her cheeks. “That was uncalled for!” she barked. Damian held his hands up in surrender.

“Relax,” he said as soothingly as he could manage. “They know I’m joking,” he dropped his hands and a knowing smirk took over his face. “And besides, now you’re relaxed so my plan worked,” Marinette could only blink at that. She… did feel more relaxed, actually. “Also. I told you you’d be accepted easily. They already consider you one of us.”

“Wha— there’s no way—” she frantically looked at each of the older men around her, but each of them just shot her a smile or grin and a short nod. Her shoulders and jaw both fell, and it broke a little of everyone’s heart.

Marinette looked so utterly shocked, bewildered to be accepted as if it was still something profoundly foreign to her. And there was that disbelief in her eyes, that distrust that screamed that she expected some sort of lie here. That told that she thought this would all crumble away at any second. If anyone had any reservations about bringing her into their inner circles, it vanished right that moment. She needed support, or she’d crumble away and they all knew it.

“How about we start by talking about the situation with Hawkmoth?” Red Robin spoke up, walking forward to stand beside Batman. “I assume that’s a little more in your element?”

Damian silently vowed to thank Tim later for that. In a silent, completely anonymous way of course. Couldn’t have Tim thinking they were friends or something now, could he? Marinette instantly straightened up and nodded, her confidence returning with a little more sincerity this time.

“Yeah. Yeah, let me transform again. It’ll be easier to explain.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was three weeks later, on Marinette’s third now-weekly visit to the Batcave, when the question finally came up. Jason had asked to spar with Marinette for the first time, having seen her in action as Ladybug and wanting to test the girl when she didn’t have superpowers to rely on. Damian hadn’t been down in the cave to warn him, and the result was Jason’s gut sinking as Marinette scrambled as far away from him as she could, eyes wide and chest heaving in the beginnings of a panic attack.

“Shit,” Jason muttered before he quickly knelt down and did his best to talk her down, to calm her until her breathing slowed and her pupils were back to normal. It wasn’t long afterwards that Marinette started hugging herself, refusing to look at him. But he wasn’t going to just back down, he wanted to solve this issue. If even the mere suggestion of a spar was enough to set her off, he needed to figure out why and fix it.

So he carefully lowered himself so he was sitting only a foot away from her, resting his arms across his knees casually.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Didn’t think it would be a sore subject. That’s on me.”

Marinette just shrugged, but didn’t answer him. She just buried her face in her arms and took a shaky breath.

Jason let the silence linger for a while before trying again. “Does this have to do with certain Asshole Assassins?”

That startled a slightly hysterical bark of laughter from her, and she had to wipe away a few tears when she raised her head and finally turned it in his direction slightly. Not enough for her to be looking at him, but just a subtle turn to show that she was listening and speaking to him. “Yeah.”

“You know, you never told us why you got disowned,” Jason tried to make his words as casual as possible, but wasn’t surprised when Marinette still stiffened and took a sharp breath. He didn’t push. The stage was set, and he’d wait until either she took the opportunity to open up or told him to leave well enough alone. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips, and her foot tapped on the ground a bit. Clear signs of her anxiety around the subject, and Jason’s hopes vanished a little. He would probably have to wait longer for her to be ready to share.

But, to his pleasant surprise, he was wrong. She took another few minutes to gather her thoughts, but she did eventually open up to him.

“I refused to fight Damian,” she admitted. “It was… We were seven. It wasn’t supposed to be a fight to the death, but it was a very important spar. We were using live weaponry, and we were told to fight until we couldn’t anymore. Whoever fell first would be relegated as a mere soldier, and have to fight for status like any other assassin in the League. The winner would officially be named as G— as Ra’s Heir. I didn’t want to fight, because I knew Damian would win but I also knew that it wouldn’t be as easy as Ra’s probably expected if I gave it my all like he wanted. I knew both Damian and I would be heavily injured if I did as he asked, and it wouldn’t be worth it. If I misjudged anything, any single hit, I could have accidentally injured Damian permanently and ruined his worth in Ra’s eyes, and that wasn’t an option. I didn’t care that throwing the fight was as good as giving up my life, because at least I could be sure that Damian kept his. I could make sure that he was treated well, or as well as anyone could hope for in the League anyway. I could, with only a few words, make sure he became indispensable. Ra’s and Talia never liked me as much as Damian anyway, I figured… I figured it was nobody’s loss,” She swallowed heavily, clenching her eyes shut. “I was always just the spare. The extra. Damian was their crown prince, the one with actual value. Even to me. I saw him, and I saw everything I wanted to be. I… I tossed down my weapons and let him stab me, because I figured I owed it to him for being such a failure in comparison to him. That I owed it to him to do everything I could to make things easier for him, since I was just an unnecessary obstacle—” strong arms wrapped around her, and she turned to sob into Jason’s chest as he just silently held her.

“Idiot,” Damian whispered, making Marinette jump. Her twin sat only a few feet away, though only Jason would have known when exactly he had gotten there with them. He shook his head at her. “I never would have gotten as far as I did without you,” he whispered, looking up at the cave ceiling. “You were the only real rival I had. When you left, everything was either too easy or nearly impossible, nothing was the same as trying my best against someone who was just as good as me. And when I got here and met the others, I didn’t think any of them were worthy of taking your position, you know,” he scoffed a bit as he got lost in his memories. “That’s why I hated Tim for so long, I think. He reminded me of you so much that I wanted nothing more than to punch him for daring to replace you—”

“Heh, the Replacement twice over, huh?” Jason joked. Damian chuckled with a small eye roll.

“Plus, he just has a really punchable face,” Damian added, trying to distract from the emotion behind everything he had just admitted. “Part of me thought you were dead. The other part refused to believe that. And seeing Tim and how some of his mannerisms were the same as yours,” Damian shrugged a little. “It stung. Especially that second year, when I started to regret that you never had the chance to come here and join them with me. Meet them with me.”

Marinette sniffled. “... Who are you and what have you done with Dami? He’s never this sappy.”

Damian flicked a pebble at her head with a good natured glare, successfully diffusing the serious air a little. Marinette wouldn’t ever be normal, and it would take a while before she was no longer fragile, but she could get there. Especially now that her bridges with her brother had been mended, and and a whole new family had cropped up to help support her.

She was glad Damian had convinced her to try, again.

#maribat #platonic daminette #sibling daminette #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #ml x dc #mlb x dc #Useful

564 notes · View notes