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lovesickeros · 7 months

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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #neuvillette #focalors #furina #dont ask what happened here idk #this was. also supposed 2 be neuvi focused and then i.#dont talk 2 me abt focalors i wont ever shut up #got a 300k word essay on hand abt how i feel abt her character/how i interpret her personality and her story #focalors jsut like me fr fr (cries at the slightest inconvenience or the slightest mean comment)#shes so pathetic girlfail im gonna chew on her #what happens when reader gets stuck with two emotionally repressed french bastards?? hell #neuvi is the “emotionless” flavor of emotionally repressed in that hes HORRIBLE at showing emotions at all #ask him to smile and its incredibly unnerving and theres too many teeth but hes trying his best please call him pretty or he will cry :(#furina is the flavor of emotionally repressed where she makes it up by having Too Many emotions #using theatrics and masks to show everyone what they want to see but inside this girl is a MESS #constant anxiety and panic 24/7 #will do random shit and look at you and if u dont compliment her she will think u hate her and cry #compliment her and she'll do even stupider shit to try and impress you more #i love my scrunkly little babies they r so stupid and mentally ill someone get these bitches some THERAPY #i want 2 put them under a microscope #watch this be ooc fr furina when more of her lore drops if shes not girlfail im leaving #anyway see u in a week im going on a trip ill get back 2 u in 6-7 business days

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sl-newsie · 2 months

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Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 2: Exposure Therapy

“Would you like to see my mask?”

Mask. His mask. A mask that… is a burlap sack?

Crane holds up a ragged piece of burlap with something stitched inside. Is it a new therapy technique? This must be a joke. I’ve never heard of any treatment that involves this level of theatrics.

“They paid you to keep me quiet, didn’t they?” I state in a matter-of-fact tone. Crane keeps the same giddy expression and continues showing off the mask.

“I use it in my experiments. It may not look like much but the other crazies in here can’t stand it.”

He pulls the mask over his head. It does look a tad childish at first but there’s something unsettling about the simple mask. Calm down. It’s just a mask.

“If you’re trying to scare me then save it, Crane. I face my fear every day. There’s nothing you can do to change it-”

Hiss!

Something clicks and a spray of gas clogs my nostrils. What on Earth-? Uh! It burns! I feel it entering my bloodstream. Why is my heart pounding? And my lungs are seizing. Is this a seizure-inducing gas-?

“Callie…”

Who’s there? No one else is in the room-

“Dear, why didn’t you do better?”

That voice. It can’t be… I feel a hand on my shoulder. It is!

“How- How did you get in here?” I ask in a shaking voice.

What I should be asking is how am I seeing the dead? My parents have been dead for a whole year yet they’re here plain as day.

“Such a disappointment.”

It doesn’t help that the symptoms of the gas are making my head go dizzy. The cell’s beige walls are melting into a background of distorted memories.

“What do you see?”

It’s Crane. Can’t he see them too? My parents are right there!

Strong hands grab my shoulders and turn me to face the blurry mask. “Look at me, woman. Look at me! I want to see your eyes go wild when my toxin drives you insane!”

“Calico, pay attention!” My father barks from behind. “Face me when I’m talking to you!”

“Dearie, I’m very disappointed,” mom shakes her head. “We taught you to do better.”

“Shut up!” I grab my head and squeeze my burning eyes shut.

“That’s it. Give into the fear,” Crane’s voice mocks.

“No- no.” Take a breath. Everyone laughed when I refused proper therapy but now it’s time to prove them wrong. “No, no…”

“Did our death mean nothing to you?” Dad asks harshly. “You hardly attended the funeral.”

You didn’t give me a single reason to. You made my life into a twisted game I can never win. I bend over the table to try to gain balance. Meanwhile Crane watches with peak interest.

“You look surprisingly captivating like this.” He leans closer and I swear there’s maggots crawling from his eyes. “What do you fear, hm? No one is immune to it.”

Deep breath. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

“You’re right, Crane.” Finally getting a grip on the toxin’s effects, I lift my head to face Crane directly. “There is no complete cure for fear. But I can learn to live with it.”

I’ve been living with it for the past year. Sure I’ve never fully shaken off the grieving process but my job always kept me too busy. This isn’t sitting well with Crane because he’s shaking his head.

“That’s impossible. You should be passed out by now, or- or begging for mercy!” Ok now this is getting funny. Seeing the man in the odd mask get upset is diluting my attention towards my parents. “What do you fear? Tell me!”

Really? I didn’t think someone as collected as Crane could get so fed up. “That’s a question for another session, doctor. If the hourglass reads right then our time is up.”

Crane’s head jerks to look at the now-empty hourglass. By now the gas has dissipated, which drives him to take his mask off. He’s not affected by the fear toxin but there’s no doubt my reluctance to it is making him antsy. Crane collects his briefcase and he very stiffly walks to the cell door.

“I will find what you fear, Prentiss. You can’t hide it forever. Eventually you’ll give in to my fear toxin or you’ll spill it to me yourself.”

“Sounds enticing,” I say in a dull tone as I lean lazily against the metal bed frame. “Good day, Dr. Crane.”

“It’s evening now," the lanky man says stiffly.

“How would I know?” I bite back idly. “I’ve been stuck inside a windowless room for Lord knows how long with no contact with the outside world.”

“Better get used to it.”

And with that he closes the cell door. As far as first encounters go I think my introduction to the Scarecrow was a much less intense one. Almost pleasant, actually. Out of all the expectations I had for Gotham’s lord of fear, him being frustrated by my reaction to his infamous toxin is definitely a keeper. I didn’t get any answers as to how long my stay is in Arkham but I can bide my time for a while longer. This is by far the greatest study I’ve been presented. The cases back in Metropolis can’t hold a candle to being able to study the Scarecrow. If only those pompous self-righteous pricks could see me now.

“Calico! Do not tempt me, young lady!”

I roll my eyes at the hallucination. “Shut up, dad.”

How long is this drug supposed to last?

#jonathon crane #jonathon crane x reader #dr jonathan crane #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow #poison ivy #the riddler #harley quinn #the joker #two face #the penguin #batman #batman begins #the dark knight #the dark knigth rises #gotham #gotham tv #cillian murphy

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justasimptm · 3 years

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The Bride C3

“My children, thank you all for coming. Lady Dimitrescu, you have my thanks for agreeing to host me, visiting your home is always such a pleasure,” Mother Miranda starts, all attention snapping to her immediately. The praise makes Mother smile, she dips her read in reverence. Miranda sweeps her eyes around at all of us, pausing on each of our forms in acknowledgement, I can nearly feel Moroe shaking when she glances at him. How pathetic. “I’ve asked you all here so we can review our progress, and make changes as necessary. Monroe, why don’t you start for us. How have the Cadou been taking?”

And so it goes around, everyone trying to earn Miranda’s love by saying how well we’re doing, despite no real progress being made. When her gaze finally settles on me I feel uneasy, unsure what she’ll ask me. Mother had been very clear that I was not going to be doing any real work in terms of changing anyone.

“Y/N, my youngest, I have a very important question to ask you. An honor, really. Please come here,” she calls, extending her hand forward. After a glance at my mother and a near microscopic nod of her head in permission, I draw forwards slowly, bowing my head in respect as I stand before her. “Please, daughter, look at me.” Monroe gasps audibly, he’s not allowed to look at her, not this close. Most of us tend to divert our eyes, only looking at her briefly. None of us have ever been specifically instructed to hold our contact.

Shakily my eyes skim up to her face, where a soft but chilling smile rests. She dips down ever so slightly, pulling my hand into hers, sending another shockwave of surprise from our company. Mother Miranda typically prefers not to be touched, so the fact she is initiating this contact makes me uneasy. What could she want from me that she feels she needs to do all of these theatrics to get it? Why does she think I need to feel special?

“Y/N. You’ve grown so much. I remember seeing you, still human, near death. The metamycite allows me to see such things, and my oh my, how you’ve blossomed. Of all my children, how it changed you really is the most amazing.” I can feel the chilled stares, clearly off put by the favoritism. “You’ve all become so much more than you ever expected, but Y/N? She’s still able to retain her form, identical to how she was before, even her newer form is still beautiful. It doesn’t fight to escape her, it helps her shine. She isn’t in danger from things that the other girls are, the cold does nothing to her.” Now I’m starting to get more nervous, all these compliments are certainly leading up to something big, something I don’t know if I’ll be able to give. “And so, as the one I’ve seen bond so well with the change, I have a wonderful question for you.” And here it comes. “I would never wish to take you from your true mother, but with your permission I would like to use your DNA, try to combine it with my beloved Eva’s. I truly feel as though we will have some great success if we do so.”

This even tears a shocked sound from myself and I have to steel every nerve in my body to keep from jerking back and out of her hold. She wants to use me to bring her daughter back? I didn’t even want this. Behind me a loud clap startles me from my frozen state. I can hear my mother thanking Miranda for her generosity, Moroe and Donna chittering between themselves, but Heisenberg is surprisingly quiet.

“Silence!” The room mutes instantly at Miranda’s words. “This choice is for Y/N, and Y/N alone.” She tips my head back up, staring through her mask into my eyes. “What do you think, my child? May I try?”

‘NO NO NO’ I want to scream, ‘no you can’t use me to try to bring your daughter back from the dead. You should just let me die!’ Instead I force a smile, pushing as much faux excitement into it as possible and nodding my head so fast I swear I can feel my brain slamming around. “Yes of course you can, Mother Miranda! I would be so honored to help you! Please, let me do what I can for you!” A smile spreads across her face at my external eagerness. Her hand strokes my cheek, before stepping back.

“Thank you, Y/N.” With that she essentially shoves her hand into my stomach, causing me to gasp and stumble slightly. And then just as quick as she did it, she pulls back, a handful of something in her grasp. Something inside me feels slightly out of place, shifting until it rests back where it thinks it belongs. “I must go now, bring this to my laboratory so I can begin trials.” With that she’s gone in a flurry of crows, leaving the five of us in silence.

Silence which is broken with a crash, and lots of yelling. My mother sighs, growling out my sister's names.

“Daughter, would you mind going and telling your sisters to knock it off.” She says to me, turning to face our company, “It’s time for me to show them out.” I dip my head in acknowledgement, turning and allowing my form to change. Much like my sisters I can essentially hold my full body form, but also shift into insects to move quicker. However, unlike them where they’re flies, I actually can become moths. Much more elegant, if you ask me, which is the only reason I ever even allow myself to do it.

For the first month after my change I had no control, phasing in and out of each form sporadically. I’ve grown since then, now able to focus it into certain areas if I wanted. It takes less than a minute to find where the racket was coming from. The three of them had taken to terrorizing our newest servant, the poor girl was backed into a corner in the study, brandishing a candelabra as if it would protect her. Judging from the state of her clothes and the blood stains they had already gotten a bite of her.

“What on earth do the three of you think you’re doing?” I seethe, their collective attention snaps to me in an instant. The girl lets out a pathetic whimper as I reform and stalk forwards. Bela laughs, twirling her blade around her fingers as she eyes me up and down.

“We were hungry, sister, what do you think we were doing?” She snarks, turning her gaze back to the shaking child, who curls deeper into herself. Cassandra and Daniela let out small confirmations, unable to keep their eyes on me longer than a moment before turning back towards the girl, eyeing her up like a lion would a gazelle.

“I think you’re all acting like imbeciles.” I snap, crossing the room in an instant and throwing them against the wall before latching onto the girl's shoulder and shoving her from the room. “Go get that bandaged, report to my Mother immediately.” I demand, slamming the door behind her as she stumbles into the hall before rounding back to my sisters. “You three know better. Mother Miranda had barely left before your little stunt. Can you imagine how displeased our mother would have been if you had embarrassed her?”

Daniela rolls her eyes at my dull threat, Cassandra has the decency to look slightly wounded, but Bela? Of course she isn’t done fighting me yet. She takes half a step forwards, cocking her head to the side and smiling at me. “What? Afraid we’ll ruin your chances at being Mother Miranda's special little guinea pig? As if you deserve that. She should have asked us. We’re far stronger than you anyways.” She states, motioning to herself and the other two.

“Yeah,” Daniela says, crossing her arms and stepping up beside her, “You aren’t as special as she thinks. Anything you do, you know that we do it better.” Cassandra joins them, creating a wall of envy.

“You didn’t even want this, remember? Mother should have just let you die. She could have had us, we’re all she needs.” She tells me. Part of me wants to laugh, another part to scream. I wanted to die, I want to tell them, I wish she had let me. But if they thought they could be so much better, then I might as well show them why they’re weak. In an instant I’ve flown across the room, throwing open the window I had once escaped from, letting a harsh breeze of cold air flush the room. They screech at me indignantly to close it as they scramble for the door. I just smile, moving to stand directly in front of the billowing curtains.

“Next time you three start thinking you’re better than me because you were so prepared for this, I want you to remember one thing. You may have asked for this, but you are not stronger than me. I take more than some wind to hurt. Be careful who you try to play with girls, because unlike the maids, I’m not an ant for you to burn with a magnifying glass. You are, and no matter how much my Mother loves you, I am her real daughter, and out of the four of us? Take a guess who she would save.” With that I allow myself to drop backwards out the window, vaguely noting that they managed to get the door open and get out to safety. A feeling of serenity rushes through my veins as I drop. Finally being able to snap at them felt so good, even if later I end up regretting it. After the day I’ve had, there isn’t an ounce of regret in my body. It felt so good to be so cold, to say what I had been craving to say since they came into my life. They had all but imposed upon a life I didn’t want, tried to shoved me into a corner, tried to take what was mine. I am sick of letting people take from me.

God had dictated to take my life. My mother took my death. They tried to take my mother. Miranda wants to take my body. Take, take, take. No more. If this is the life I have to live, then nobody is taking it from me. Never again.

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #re8 karl heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg x reader #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #re

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nour386 · 3 years

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Meeting the not Heroic Family

My submission for @pinesconessecrets as the santa of @mothmanfactkin, His prompts included super hero au and awkward dinner. So I combined them together into one massive fic. I hope you enjoy this because I enjoyed writing this. (Also on Ao3!)

"Dipper, I'm not sure about this," Wirt tightened his grip on his boyfriend's hand.

"It'll be fine!" Dipper awkwardly bumped Wirt with his elbow. "They don't need to know that I'm dating the legendary 'Spirit of the Plants'."

"Dipper this is serious." Wirt said. "If your Uncle is half as smart as you say he is, he should be able to figure out my identity in an instant."

"Don't worry about that, we have your cover story remember?" Dipper grinned, "a humble library part timer fresh out of college, looking for work. It'd cover most of our bases."

Wirt didn't look convinced. He bit his lip and looked away. His mind raced with all the ways this evening could go wrong. A villain somehow reconsigning him, and attacking them through the window. A giant monster bursting through the ceiling, crushing everyone and splattering the walls with their blood. Or worst of all, his boyfriend's uncles deciding that he was a bad influence. Cutting his time with Dipper short.

"Hey, look at me." Dipper pinched Wirt's cheek making the lanky man wince.

"What was that for?" Wirt rubbed his cheek.

"You were doing that thing where you panic and over think everything and worry that the end of the world will come about because you dropped a spoon." Dipper rolled his hand as he spoke.

"There was no apocalypse this time." Wirt said in a small voice.

"That's not the point Pilgrim." Dipper sighed. He placed both his hands on Wirt’s shoulders. "I know you're worried, and in truth, I am a little as well; but nothing helpful is going to come from sitting here and stewing in our sweat. Let's go take this thing down together."

Wirt took a deep breath, and let himself be held by Dipper. The weight of his hands on his shoulders helped ground the young man. He looked into his boyfriend’s eyes and gave a small smile.

“I think. I'll be fine.” Wirt said slowly.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Dipper smiled.

The pair made their way down the long walk up to the mystery shack. Normally Dipper would have insisted on flying the pair over, but decided that letting Wirt get excited over the natural beauty of Gravity Falls might help him calm down enough to face his uncles. That judgement worked out swimmingly in his favour as Wirt awkwardly asked to stop every few minutes to observe some flower or shrub that he didn’t quite recognise.

“I know you said the town was bustling with the unknown, I didn’t think that would include plants.” Wirt carefully touched the leaf of a shrub.

“Is a small bush that impressive?” Dipper squated next to Wirt to observe the plant. The stem looked like it was covered in red polka dots.

“Look! This shrub adapted its stem to look like it's covered in red ants to avoid being eaten!” Wirt said in an excited voice. He gave the leaf at the tip of the stem a small poke and gave a small twitter of delight as the stem curled up perfectly to make the polka dots look even larger.

“Huh, I never noticed that.” Dipper taped his chin.

“Probably because you spent the better part of your time running for your life.” Wirt tapped a nearby tree. A sturdy branch grew out, just high enough along the trunk to help him stand up without groaning. “Thank you.” He whispered to the tree.

“You know, for a superhero you sure do use your powers haphazardly.” Dipper teased. He stood up, and led the way to the shack.

“You’re just jealous that your yearbook photo this year was captioned ‘plant killer’.” Wirt smirked, following Dipper along the path.

“I told all of our friends to not get me house plants as gifts. But they never listen.” Dipper threw up his hands in exasperation. “I can hardly take care of myself. You think I can take care of a plant?”

“Thank your lucky stars that I didn’t decide to incarcerate you for crimes against greenery.” Wirt said.

“That’s not a thing and you know it Mr.’Hero’.” Dipper punched Wirt’s arm.

“Well it might be!” Wirt shot back. “And now the charge has changed to battery.”

“Oh no. how could you have stopped my dastardly crimes.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Who’s talking about crime?” came a gruff voice.

The pair looked ahead to find an older looking man. Greying hair that lay flat on his head, a red nose and square jaw. He wore a serious expression, his face behind his square glasses was twisted into a serious scowl as he looked at the two young men.

“I-uh no-one Sir.” Wirt squeaked.

Dipper on the other hand rolled his eyes. “Why? You want a cut of the goods?” “You’re damn right.” The old man smirked.

“I wha-” Wirt looked between them.

“Are you sure you’d want to be associated with horrible criminals like us?” Dipper asked. “Wouldn’t want the press to find out and cause another scandal.”

“Those paparazzi cronies will swarm after anything. It’ll blow over in less than a day.” The old man chuckled.

“What?” Wirt tilted his head.

Dipper grinned. “Wirt, this is my Great uncle Stan, retired hero and ever active conman.”

“Hero?” Wirt stared at the man. His mind raced to put a mask to the face.

“Autographs cost 50 and pictures with me are 100.” Stan gave a showman’s grin. “Keep in mind that those prices are mutually exclusive.”

“And if you want him in costume you’d be footing the tailor’s bill.” Dipper elbowed Wirt.

“Wait, who were you?” Wirt asked.

“Who was I? Who was I?” Stan looked as though he had the wind knocked out of him. “What kind of cave dweller did you bring to my house?”

Dipper rolled his eyes at Stan’s theatrics. He was well used to his uncle’s inflated ego about his hero career. Wirt on the other hand found difficulty picking up on Stan’s very subtle hints at playing a bit. He felt his stomach sink to his feet as the man’s voice grew in volume, his life flashing before his eyes as he tried to figure out which hero this angry looking man could have been.

“Grunkle Stan, tone it down, you’re going to give him a heart attack.” Came a sweet as sugar voice from inside the shack. A young lady with her hair done in a long braid opened the mesh door and punched Stan in the arm. Aside from rosy cheeks and the lack of a beard, her face was identical to Dipper’s. It didn’t take long for Wirt to recognise his boyfriend’s twin sister, Mabel.

She turned to Wirt and gave a warming smile. “Sorry about this old grump. He thinks his comedy routine should double as a horror show.”

“It’s only horror if they’re too sensitive.” Stan rubbed his arm.

“You promised Dipper you’d play nice while Wirt was visiting.” she crossed her arms.

“I also promised your uncle Shermie that I wouldn’t let you do any hero work while staying over. And look how that turned out.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Stopping someone from stealing a car isn’t hero work.” Mabel shot back.

“Sorry about Stan,” Dipper muttered under his breath. “He’s just jealous that his hero career was cut.”

“Jealous?” Wirt stared at Dipper. “You said you didn’t tell them anything”

“He’s jealous of your youthfulness” Dipper squeezed Wirt’s shoulder. He leaned in close to whisper into his ear. “I haven’t told them a thing, I promise.”

“So he’s not mad?” Wirt clarified.

“Nope, just a really bad comedian.” Dipper smiled.

Wirt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He held onto Dipper’s hand to ground himself. It took a couple of moments but he felt his heart rate slow down.

“Hey, is the kid okay?” Stan called from the porch. Wirt could hear the audible smack of Mabel’s fist against Stan’s meaty arms, followed by a hushed. “Ouch!”

“Ready to go in?” Dipper asked patiently, ignoring his relatives and their antics.

“I think so yes.” Wirt opened his eyes and gave a weak grin.

***

The pair had wanted to spend the wait for dinner in the living room, enjoying the terrible public access television that Gravity Falls had to offer. However, Stan had other plans. Apparently Dipper’s second Grunkle, Ford as Stan called him, had failed to arrive in time to help like he had agreed. And now the couple were forced into the kitchen to help with dinner preparations.

“Honestly you don’t need to help too much.” Dipper insisted as he kept an eye on the bubbling stew.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to see the shack you talk so much about.” Wirt smiled. He carefully peeled an onion before dicing it. Dipper could have sworn the onion grew plumper when he handed it to Wirt.

“So he talks about this place huh?” Stan looked over his shoulder and away from his chopping board. “Better be talking about how great it was.”

“Oh but of course.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “The 5 star accommodations, and food to match? How could I complain?”

“Didn’t you say that the walls were riddled with splinters?” Wirt asked.

“They add character!” Stan insisted. He banged his fist on to the chopping board, launching sliced up carrots into Dipper’s bubbling pot.

“And a surprising amount of fiber.” Dipper said. He placed a lid on the pot.

“What?” Wirt looked at Dipper.

“The kid chews just about anything. I’m surprised his power wasn’t something like eating anything.” Stan said, he took the onion slices from Wirt and poured them into a pan with some oil.

“I don’t think that’d be very fitting.” Wirt said.

“Oh? And why’s that?” Stan snapped his fingers, summoning a small flame at the tip of his finger, which he then used to ignite the stove. He raised an eyebrow as he stared at Wirt. Challenging him to back up his claim.

Wirt could feel his stomach twisting under the gaze of the older man, but a gentle hand on his shoulder helped the practising hero ground himself. He took a deep breath and put on what felt like a confident grin. “Well, for one thing Dipper would need an appetite for such a power to be useful.”

There was a beat, Wirt held his breath, expecting some snide remark about how he didn’t know what he was talking about. Instead, Wirt watched as Stan slapped his knee in laughter. The old man’s wrinkled face lifted with glee as his hoarse laugh filled the shack. He accidentally knocked over the pan he had just put on the stove.

Acting quickly, Wirt grew a strong vine from the flowers on the window sill, easily catching the pan.

“And here I thought you were all talk about him being a smart alec!” Stan grinned. He clapped a hand on Wirt’s back.

“Thank you?” Wirt looked to Dipper for help.

His boyfriend gave him a small smile and a thumbs up. “Told you he could hold his own.”

“He still looks scrawny as hell.” Stan pulled his pan out of the vine’s grasp. “Pretty good with his powers. You sure he ain’t some mask behind your back?”

“Grunkle Stan, Wirt would never lie to me like that.” Dipper frowned. He looked disgusted at the suggestion.

“Not many regular people are quick enough to catch something that fast. Especially with powers they don’t use regularly.” Stan said.

“I do use my power often.” Wirt said honestly.

“And what does a librarian need chloromancy for?” Stan asked.

“It helps me put away books faster.” Wirt said. “Not to mention I had a very excitable younger brother. If I wasn’t keeping an eye on him, there was no telling how much trouble he’d get in.”

Dipper held his breath as he watched his Uncle’s reaction. The old man eyed Wirt up and down, before shrugging and moving back to his cooking. “Jeez you really are dating a goody two shoes, aren’t you?”

“You know me. Can’t help but stick to the rules.” Dipper said with an awkward chuckle.

“Only when it suits you.” Stan remarked. “Now toast the bread, I didn't bring you in here to play 20 questions.”

***

‘Ford’ was still nowhere to be seen, but the family had decided to start dinner without him.

“If he thinks I’m going to wait for him to eat then he’s got another thing coming.” Stan said.

With the use of his plant powers, Wirt was able to set the table rather quickly. He wondered why Mabel hadn’t been asked to help, but when he saw several burn marks hidden under the table cloth, he realised the risk the ever glitter throwing Mabel could be to the kitchen. It wasn’t long before the table had been set and all food was served. The three Pines and Wirt sat together at the table, enjoying the delicious food. The sound of clinking plates filled the air.

All was peaceful until a loud crash came from the living room, followed by an angry shout.

“Stanley what did you do to my mirror!”

Stan didn't get up from his seat, in fact he acted as though he didn’t hear what had just transpired. Wirt remembered seeing the old man reach for his ears before they began eating. ‘Perhaps he turned off his hearing aids?’.

Dipper gave Wirt a smile. “We’re in the kitchen Grunkle Ford!”

Wirt turned to the doorway just in time to see a man with a similar face to Stan’s but with a much deeper cleft in his chin and much poofier hair. He wore a trench coat and red sweater over black dress pants. His clothes were scuffed and were burnt in multiple places. To the untrained eye it would have looked like the man had run wildly through the woods from some kind of monster. However Wirt was familiar with markings like those that were all over Ford’s clothing. They were from stray bullets that had nicked his clothing, narrowly avoiding him.

“Stanley, what was the big idea with putting my mirror behind the couch!” Ford marched right up to his twin, his face red with rage.

Stan lazily looked up at Ford, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. He raised a finger and swallowed his food. “I can’t hear anything you're saying Sixer.” Stan pointed to the kitchen counter, where his hearing aids sat, keeping him deaf to the world around him.

“You knucklehead! I almost got crushed!” Ford reached to punch Stan, but he was stopped by Dipper. The young man had jumped out of his seat and grabbed a hold of Ford’s arm. Dipper also summoned a vine from the window sill to keep his uncle restrained.

“Grunkle Ford, I’m really happy you’re back in one piece. I was hoping to introduce you to my boyfriend, Wirt.” Dipper said. He nonchalantly gestured to Wirt.

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten we had guests.” Ford’s cheeks turned red as he collected himself. “I apologise for my outburst. I’m usually much more composed. However, someone’s pettiness has affected that.”

“Still deaf as a post.” Stan pointed to his large ears. His mouth full of half eaten stew.

Ford rolled his eyes and walked over to Wirt. The old man wiped his hand on his dark pants before offering a six-fingered hand shake. Wirt politely returned the gesture with a firm hand. But as the pair shook hands, a painful realisation dawned upon them both.

“You…” They both breathed. Their eyes locked into one another.

Before Wirt could say anything, Stanford ran out of the room, and out of sight.

Stan, Dipper and Mabel stared at Wirt, all thinking the same question. Wirt could feel their eyes boring into his skull, so he stood up, and excused himself. The young man made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. He splashed his face with some cold water and breathed deeply. He looked at the mirror above the sink, screamed, and tripped back into the bathtub.

“Calm down!” Dipper whispered. He stepped out of the mirror.

“How did you-”

“I’ve been copying Grunkle Ford’s power for ages.” Dipper said. “Now, would you mind explaining what that was just now?”

“So, remember how I thought I never met your uncles and was worried about a bad first impression?” Wirt asked. His tone sounded jovial despite his rattled nerves. “Well I don't need to worry about that anymore.”

“When did you meet Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asked. He sat on the side of the bathtub.

“I was doing a nightly patrol of our campus. The security guards had asked for some help from the local hero guild. Someone was breaking in and taking the latest data found by the scientific teams. I was already on campus so the hero guild put me to the job.” Wirt said. He kept in his awkwardly sat position in the tub as he spoke. The shower curtain tangled with his long limbs.

“So as I was walking around, I heard the guards calling for help, turned the corner and saw the tail coat of a man run down the hallway. ‘The light of the moon shone through the windows, guiding me through the dark to his eventual capture’. Is what I thought when I saw him turn down a dead end. But instead there was no one. There was the one way glass of the nearby lab door; but it was securely locked. The guards checked it anyway and found no one.”

“Right.” Dipper nodded along, tapping his chin.

“I walked along the floor, looking for any signs of the intruder; but alas he had slipped my grasp. The only person I found was one of the professors leaving after a late night at work. I had thought he was the intruder at first, since the first thing I saw were the tails of his coat, but it was a lab coat.” Wirt continued.

“But where does Ford fit into this?” Dipper asked.

“That professor dropped a roll of paper he was carrying. I thought it was some of his research, but when I reached down to pick it up. I noticed he had six fingers, which was not mentioned in the staff listings. And when I looked at his ID, it was a crudely faked card.” Wirt said.

“Ooooh.” Dipper sucked in a breath. “And he realised you were the hero from that night?”

“There’s no way he didn’t.” Wirt said.

“Okay, things are messy, but, there’s nothing to worry about.” Dipper clapped his hands. “He knows that you know, but we don’t know he knows. So we can use this to our advantage.”

“If he knows that we know, then he won’t try to deal with me to make sure I don’t blab?” wirt asked.

“But he can’t be sure that you know.” Dipper said. “As far as your story goes, you’re only a librarian. Just keep your cool and things should smooth over.”

“Considering how annoyed your Uncle Stan is, I doubt he’d want to cause too much more trouble.” Wirt said.

“Exactly.” Dipper smiled. “Now come on, dinner’s getting cold and trust me when I say you don’t want to fight Mabel for seconds.”

Wirt watched as Dipper stood up offering his hand. The young man took a deep breath before accepting his boyfriend’s hand.

“That sounds lovely.” he agreed.

#Gravity falls #Pinescone #Pinescone Secret Santa #Over the garden wall #OTGW #GF #Wirt #Dipper #Wirt X Dipper #Hero Au

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honeysidesarchived · 3 years

Text

THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.

—part ii.

word count: 9.2k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he’s a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. if you’re here i imagine you know exactly what he’s about.

notes: hello! it has been a hot minute since i updated, but i promise i am not dead. i just went on a real vacation and juggling two longfic projects at once is (surprise) very time consuming! but i am here with chapter two. it's a lot of roman pretending not to be jealous when he's actually seething inside (we love to see it), as well as a few little drops of intrigue. yes, i know, i TOO wanted an entire longfic about roman and varya just making out between dramatic proclamations of their violent devotion for each other, but alas, alack.

special thank you to my beta @starcrier who of course helped me proof a good portion of this, and is eternally my cheerleader and the loml, as well as @shallow-gravy who put her eyes on the very very rough draft of this when i wanted to bash my head into the top of the desk a-la-roman's theatrics. without you this chapter would not have happened!

and thank you to everyone who has read this so far! carry your throne was truly my baby and so getting to write a sequel for it is the most incredible feeling. your support means the world to me. <3

Roman did not like sharing his things.

It was perpetually difficult enough to have let Varya waltz around the club so that she might have happily enjoyed being lavished attention on (attention that was, to be kept in mind, not his)—but watching a stranger, an interloper from her past, indulge himself in her, that was excruciating. Because that’s what it was, in the end; less about his girl enjoying herself and more about people enjoying her, realizing they would never have her, that she would always be his.

So as Irina took the twins back upstairs and Roman ushered her back into the throng of partygoers, he did so with intent; Roman watched Varya wind her way from person to person, lingering at their friend Dorian—dutiful member of the press always content to show her in a good light—before she and Maxim connected.

Roman watched them. He watched the way Maxim beamed at her, the way he ducked his head to hear her say something. He laughed and rocked back on his heels a little, and when Varya brought the glass to her lips, Roman saw it—saw Maxim’s eyes dart down to her mouth, their ascent short-lived as he busied his hand with sweeping a stray curl from her face. Maxim seemed very comfortable touching Varya, he thought. Men were never comfortable touching Varya. They were either—he had found, at least—aware of her proclivity for having hands cut off or (what he could only argue was the most correct deterrent) understanding of the simple politeness that came with not putting your hands on another man’s woman.

More than anyone, Roman appreciated having the things which others could not, so that he could be envied: but this?

This was treasonous. Poisonous. Heretical. Not in my fucking house.

Puzzling yet was Varya’s willingness to let her childhood friend conduct himself in such a way. She was a greedy thing, his girl; he knew that she so loved the attention, preening and glowing under the adoration. Greedy and hungry for love. Had she always been so active a participant in the act of touching, of being touched? Even by a stranger?

Not a stranger, he reminded himself tartly. Childhood friend, the man whose father she killed. That’s two fathers now, in her ledger—her own and someone else’s. And petulantly, he thought it a bit unsettling that it was a bond he could never have with her—dear old dad was already dead as a fucking doornail, wasn’t he? No chance Varya would want to ice him for Roman a second time.

He had determined to swallow his pride (impressive, gracious, generous) and make his way over when Dorian swept in; Dorian, preening and wrapping his arms around Varya from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder and making the noisy announcement, “Stealing her away, thank you!” just before he steered her past Maxim. There, the crowd shifted and scooted out of the way to reveal the birthday cake getting wheeled out on its little tray, decorated in gem tones and sparklers.

The determination to close the distance between himself and their newfound associate did not abate, even with Dorian’s well-timed interjection. As he wove through the crowd of milling partygoers, accepting compliments on his good work, he waited until he got within a foot or two of Maxim to stop. Everyone was applauding the cake. Everyone was having a great time looking at the expensive cake glimmering under the oh-so-obnoxious chandelier, but mostly he thought they were applauding his wife.

So, Roman clapped. He clapped, because the cake was out and the sparklers were fizzing and popping prettily, dancing golden light across his wife’s delighted face. He clapped, because everyone else was clapping, too. He clapped, and he flashed an all-teeth smile at Varya from over the top off the elaborately decorated cake (tasteful, not gaudy, of course).

Over the fizzing and popping, and without taking his eyes off of Varya, he said to Maxim, “Did you fuck my wife?”

Maxim clapped. He clapped, too, and he stood there for a moment and blinked a few times and replied, “What?” His accent was thicker than Varya’s, and thicker than Ilarion’s had been.

“You speak English, don’t you?” Roman snipped, his words and perhaps some of his annoyance masked by the party chatter. Varya shrieked delightedly when Dorian dabbed frosting on her nose. “I asked if you’ve fucked my wife?”

The blonde cleared his throat. He rubbed the back of his neck, apparently grateful that the attention had gone from clapping now to cutting the cake. In the corner of his eye, Roman could see Zsasz lurking—watching, keeping an eye, making sure he didn’t need to intervene on Roman’s behalf. Always a good man.

“No, Mr. Sionis,” Maxim replied, talking over the din of music and laughter.

Good, Roman thought. And then: “Do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Fuck,” Roman bit out, “my wife?”

Maxim barked out a laugh. He looked caught off-guard by the question—like maybe he wasn’t sure if Roman was asking to threaten or offering to join their marital bed—and then he said, “You have put me in an uncomfortable position. If I say no, I am insulting my childhood friend. If I say yes, I am insulting my new boss.”

There was something about this that flared a little spike of victory in Roman’s chest. Yes, that was right—he was Maxim’s new boss. And Maxim should be nervous about pissing him off, shouldn’t he?

“But,” the blonde plunged on, “I imagine having something that other people want feels good, does it not?”

His eyes narrowed. He smiled thinly. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? “Yeah,” he agreed, “it sure fucking does.”

There was a moment where it looked as though the other man was going to say something, his mouth opening but no words coming out, brows knitting together at the center of his forehead; but then silk and warm stretches of skin were filling up Roman’s vision, Varya having swept around to come to him, eyes bright. They’d only been at the party for a little while, but already his fingers were itching—he wanted, having stood by idly while greedy hands brushed against his Varya, and it was time to erase them all, he reasoned. Wipe her clean of them as best he knew how.

Still, she had not looked so happy in a while, he thought. Varya always beamed around the twins, practically glowing radioactive from the inside out, but it had been a long time since he’d seen her so delighted without them in her arms. And surely, this was a testament to his doing—his meticulous, flawless planning, regardless of whatever wrench Maxim Kuznetsov was trying to throw. Yes, Roman thought, he had done exceptionally, in this as in all things.

“Romy,” she said sweetly, “are you playing nice?”

“I’m always nice, kitten,” he demurred, sliding his arms around her waist and nosing the hair at her temple automatically. Every time she came around, the gravitational pull was inevitable—hands on, hands on, hands on, making sure everybody knew exactly who she belonged to. “But you can ask your little friend, if you’re worried I’ve hurt his feelings.”

He said, you can ask, but he kissed her after he said it, purring against her mouth and keeping her otherwise preoccupied; when she did pull away, still encircled in his arms, she smoothed her hand along the exposed skin of his sternum and looked inquisitively at Maxim.

Roman mimicked the tilt of her head. The blonde regarded him for a moment, and then Varya, and then smiled.

“Your husband is very accommodating, Varushka,” he told her, shrugging as if to say, and what else would he be? “I have never met a man like him.”

He felt his mouth downturn—Varushka, the same pet name Ilarion had used with her. It was one thing to accept that his wife’s twin brother would always be held in high regard in her memory, that he’d had to endure the Varushkas and the closeness that they had shared that purposefully, intimately excluded him.

“That’s because there’s nobody like me,” Roman idled, despite the venom thrumming in his veins. He was cool. He was cool and fine and totally cool. Varya hummed and planted a kiss against the slope of his jaw; her nose brushed the hollow of his throat, more than content to remain there.

But even though their exchange remained pleasant, for a second, the blonde Russian regarded him with the same deadpan, venomous gaze that Ilarion had so often. It was so close to the way his wife’s twin had looked at him, in fact, that the disdain which had been almost exclusively reserved for Ilarion himself now prickled up the back of his throat like a bile—instinctual, muscle memory.

He had seen the same look crossing the faces of the men from St. Petersburg, flown all the way to Gotham to meet their new pakhan, as Varya had put it: disdain. We’re not for you, those fleeting glances said, despite the acknowledgment in all other things that they were. What do we want with some American gangster?

He was vaguely aware of Varya and Maxim saying something, exchanging words, but their voices had dulled to the cartoonish wah wah wah of an old-time cartoon, with Varya’s occasional laugh vibrating against his sternum. Maxim waved a hand dramatically. There was ink, there; he hadn’t noticed it before. He’d been too busy inspecting the man’s stupid fucking face, trying to find the lip of his mask somewhere in there. False fucking face, that’s all it was.

And yet: Roman could not help but feel a little burn of intrigue at the sight of the inked Cyrillic letters on the back of the man’s hand.

“—stairs, my darling?”

Varya’s voice bled through the dull static that had overtaken his mind. He glanced at her, reaching up and tracing the slope of her jaw with his thumb, his other fingers splaying along the spine of her neck. Obediently, her chin tilted. She was complacent like this—docile, even; he could have snapped her neck if he wanted, dug his nails into that warm, dusky skin and watched the blood well, and she would have let him—so much so that he wondered at it for a moment. All of his hard work, all of his tempering, cupped right there in his hand; she was his.

Rather than admit to having checked out of their conversation, Roman pressed the pad of a gloved thumb against her lower lip and deferred, “Whatever you want, kitten.”

Briefly, the thought that he had agreed to let Maxim into his loft occurred. Oh, what a dreadful thought.

“Then it’s settled,” she replied. “You can stay while the party goes on, of course, Maxi.”

Maxim lifted his head, regarding them with a gaze that was no longer venomous, but playful. “Of course.”

“And you’ll leave the address of where you’re staying with Armazd?”

“If you want it, I will.” He cocked his head, smiling politely. “Goodnight, the both of you. I am happy to finally put a face to the name Roman Sionis.”

What the fuck is it with these people, he thought wearily, and with no absence of annoyance. This is just how it had been before—everyone saying things beneath the things they were saying, layers and layers and layers, piling up over each other. Didn’t any of these stupid fucking gun dogs say anything exactly the way it was?

“Yes,” Roman agreed, “I bet you are.”

With great purpose—and having determined that Varya was quite done with the evening—he planted his hands on her hips and turned her, steering her towards the doors which exited out of the club and into the hallway housing the elevator. It was her birthday, after all; there was nothing he could do except whatever it was she wanted.

“Goodnight, Maxim,” he said over his shoulder, steering the brunette in his grasp toward the door. A distressed ugh! sounded to his left, and he turned to see Dorian glaring at him accusingly.

“You get her all the time, Roman,” the journalist announced. “Surely you can spare her for a little longer?”

“Afraid I can’t,” he replied over his shoulder, squeezing Varya’s hip when she stifled her laughter. “You see Dorian, close to a year ago, Varya and I decided that we had plenty of other uses for cake to be explored on our birthdays—”

Another disgusted sound came, but it was too late; Roman was already nudging Varya through the doors to the hallway, and down to the elevator. Once the door clicked shut behind them, it was quiet; it was the one area of the building where it seemed like the air conditioning didn’t quite reach, having so many accesses to the outside, and so the air already felt a little humid and muggy.

“Oh, we forgot the cake,” Varya pouted, trailing ahead of him. She’d collected the hem of her silk dress loosely in one hand, keeping it from the floor as she wandered to the elevator to push the button. The neon red of the Exit sign cut across one side of her, illuminating her in half crimson and half shadow. It reminded him of the night he’d come back to the loft to find her covered in another man’s blood, kitchen knife in hand.

And mine, he thought. Varya Astakhova, the gem of St. Petersburg, only living heir to the Astakhov gun-running fortune, his wife.

“Darling,” she purred, breaking him out of his thoughts, “are you going to just stand there all night?”

“Maybe,” he replied idly. “Maybe I will just stand here all night and stare at my wife, hm? Who would stop me?”

“Well, certainly not me,” she demurred, turning to look at him fully now. “But you can hardly kiss me from there. And what am I suppose to do, go without cake and without your hands on me?”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Roman thought about the way Maxim had looked at him—just for that tiny split second—all of the disdain and venom welling in his gaze before it was wiped away. Your husband is very accommodating, I’ve never met a man like him. And that fucking tattoo on his hand. It nagged at him, dragged his attention away from the very, very delicious task at hand.

“Roman?”

“You go,” he announced. “I’ll be up in just a minute.”

A plush, ruby lower lip pouted out. Roman sidled over to the elevator, planting a gloved hand on the doorway so that the doors wouldn’t close, and she prompted, “What could you have possibly forgotten when all you need is right here?”

“You are most spectacular,” Roman agreed, reaching up and twisting a curl around his finger. “But it’s just a quick thing. Don’t worry that pretty head, kitten. I’ll be up in no time, and you had better—”

When he leaned in, their noses brushed; Varya hooked her fingers in the space between the buttons of his collared shirt and tugged a little, playfully, humming sweetly.

“—have this dress off,” he finished, voice pitching low and warm, “by the time I get up there.”

“And what if I don’t?” The cloying, saccharine tone of her voice belied the little spark of rebellion in her words. Roman made a pleasant sound against her mouth, a humid warmth plunging down his spine when she closed the tiny space between them to kiss him; it was entirely unhurried, and on instinct his free hand went to the small of her back, pulling her more flush against him as her lips parted prettily beneath his to sigh.

He said into the kiss, “Why don’t you try it and find out?”

“Is it a test?” Roman felt her smile. “I love tests.”

“Get upstairs,” he growled, unable to resist a final kiss. “Wicked thing.”

Varya did pull back, reluctantly and with a dramatic, long sigh. She’d always had a thing for the dramatics. “Fine, I will go upstairs all alone,” she drawled. “Don’t keep me waiting, Romy.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He stepped back, dropping his hand from the elevator door and turning around to head back to the club. The party was still in full swing; people wouldn’t even begin to start leaving for another few hours, patiently and dutifully babysat by Armazd and Zsasz (well, mostly Armazd—Zsasz was not good at being ‘patient’ or ‘dutiful’ if it didn’t include face-carving). It was like having three nannies on payroll, instead of just the one.

The door swung shut behind him. People chattered brightly over the music, lingering around tables in clustered groups. He could see at least half a dozen mobsters and their families, associates of Varya’s from overseas, socialites she had charmed and wealthy businessmen determined to get into their good graces before the weapons chokehold came into full effect.

But there was only one man he wanted to see.

Dorian Young had been smitten with Varya since the moment they’d met, through Roman—and since then, they’d been nearly inseparable. Dorian had even done her the kindness of writing Ilarion a flattering obituary. It would have been annoying, if Roman considered Dorian a threat in the least. He did not.

“Dorian,” he barked out, catching the brunette’s attention. He smiled, full-teeth and as charmingly as he could. “Buddy-mine. I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Oh?” Dorian arched a brow loftily. “A favor outside of the eternal wisdom of Gotham’s madonna, Roman? How scandalous. You know I can’t resist a special in.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Roman adjusted one of his gloves absently, glancing around the room before inclining his head and taking a few steps outside of the cluster of milling partygoers. He didn’t have many concerns about being overheard, given the noise level, but it was better safe than sorry. “You have access to certain records, don’t you?”

Now two perfectly-manicured brows arched upward before Dorian cleared his throat, dark eyes fluttering in a bat at innocence.

“I’m a journalist, Roman,” he intoned somberly. “If someone were to give me access to records that were anything but public, it would be a grave and disgusting infringement on the American Privacy—”

“Yeah yeah yeah, shut the fuck up,” Roman interjected, waving his hand. “I don’t give a shit about that. How about this: you don’t use the records you aren’t able to access, and you don’t dig up literally everything you can on Maxim Kuznetsov.”

“The ex-boyfriend?” Dorian tsked his tongue. “Roman, green is not your color.”

“Hey? Dorian? Don’t be a fucking moron.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Well just say you’ll do it.”

“You mean,” Dorian amended, “that I won’t.”

Roman let out an exasperated noise, clapping a hand onto the man’s shoulder and giving him a little jostle that was meant to convey he wished that he could instead be strangling him in that moment. Varya would have been upset if he did. Dorian flashed him a pearly grin.

“Consider it done. Or not-done, as the case may be.” He took a swig of his drink, sucking his teeth. “Anything I should be on the look-out for?”

“Any red flags. Suspicious shopping behavior. Outgoing calls to private numbers. He’ll likely have two separate phones—one burner, one not.” Roman dropped his hand from Dorian’s shoulder. “Armazd will have his address, if you want to get that from him before you leave tonight. And—one more thing.”

The journalist looked at him expectantly, waiting.

“Not a word,” he continued. “To anyone. But especially not to Varya.”

“If you’re sure,” Dorian ventured.

“The surest.”

It was when he turned to depart the party—for real, this time; he was tired of waiting to unwrap his wife—that Dorian said, “Roman?”

A deep, calming breath. I need Dorian, he reminded himself, and V’s fond of him. Roman pulled another one-eighty. “Yes, Dorian, beloved of my wife?”

“How is Varya?” Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, really?”

The question was not one that Roman had anticipated. Why would she be anything other than great, glowing, in love with her life? Sure, the last year had been full of turmoil—but they had come out of it fine. Better than fine. Roman had gotten everything he had wanted, and Varya—well, much the same, hadn’t she?

Dorian’s prying reminded him of the way Varya’s body had stilled, the way her expression had hardened, that dark, wild look slipping into her eyes when the lights in the club had blinked on to reveal the surprise party. She’d looked frigid, the softness wiped clean from her in that split moment.

“She’s fine,” Roman replied after a minute. “I mean—she’s great. What do you mean?”

“I can’t get a good read on her. You know,” Dorian pointed out. “And she did watch her supposed-to-be-dead daddy unload a round into her twin brother while she was drugged to the gills on ketamine.”

Well, when you put it like that, Roman thought dryly.

“Some of us, Dorian,” he said primly, “are able to rise above our trials and tribulations and come out better, hm?”

The journalist smiled. He didn’t looked swayed by Roman’s words, but eventually he said, “I’ll contact you as soon as I find out anything.”

“Good man.”

It was only a few minutes from the club’s main floor up to the loft, but those few minutes felt like an eternity; stretching out, impossibly long and endless in front of him. Varya’s birthday was supposed to have been a problem-less occasion, and now he had several problems lining themselves up in front of them. Chiefly, Kuznetsov. And the rest of them, too, but mostly Maxim.

Roman tugged the gloves from his hands and shrugged the suit jacket from his shoulders as the doors to the loft slid open, the gentle ding announcing his arrival. Faintly, he could hear the classical music that Varya favored to play in the twins’ room as they slept; there would be a little speaker on the table closest to her side of the bed, so that she could rouse the second either of them needed her, but they were good babies, like she’d said; it was rare when they didn’t sleep through the night.

He tossed the articles he’d disrobed from onto the long dining table as he passed, nudging the door to the bedroom open.

“Ah,” he sighed, eyes roaming expanses of warm, dusky skin exposed to him as Varya lay stretched out on the bed, “I see we went with behaving tonight?”

“I told you,” she replied demurely, “I love a good test. I can hardly resist the challenge.” Her eyes glittered playfully, and she propped herself up on her elbows, the silk of her underclothes rustling in a way that beckoned him—his hands, his mouth. “You didn’t bring any cake up?”

A quick laugh billowed out of Roman as he sidled over, stepping out of his shoes before climbing onto the bed. “It’s vanilla, you know. Not chocolate. It would have been sacrilege, in memory of our first big fight.”

“Was it chocolate?”

“Oh, yes,” he told her gravely. “I’d never forget. Don’t you remember? You were a terrible brat to me, and then you didn’t speak to me for a week, and then you showed up with a cake—”

“Terrible brat?” She laughed, feigning insult. “On my birthday, no less.”

He grinned. Leaning down, he pressed a leisurely, open-mouthed kiss to the top of her sternum, hooking one hand in the crook of her knee to yank her down the bed so that she was more firmly under him, eliciting a playful little shriek out of her before he tugged the tie of her robe loose.

“Your birthday, yet here I am, unwrapping a present,” he murmured, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the slope of her jaw. He rumbled, pleased, “I’ve been thinking about you all day, you know.”

Varya made a sweet little sound. “Is that so?”

“Mmhm.” Roman kissed down the pillar of her throat, dragging his tongue over a faded love-bite bruise. He’d need to renew that. “Especially when you put on that dress. Admittedly, I am a bit disappointed—I was looking forward to cutting it off of you if you misbehaved.”

“For someone who spent all day thinking about me,” she murmured coyly, “you certainly spent long enough coming up here.”

Roman paused in what he was doing—his fingers hooked in the top hem of her underwear, scandalous things that they were—and glanced up at her. He was trying to gauge where she was actually at, emotionally, but true to what Dorian had said, it was almost impossible to get a read on her.

“It’s just business, baby,” he replied.

“Oh. Of course.”

“You see? I told you not to worry about it.”

“Yes,” Varya agreed, “what would I know of business?”

Roman groaned, pressing his forehead to the smooth plane of her sternum. The scent of her jasmine perfume washed over him, and even though he was this close to indulging himself (which he, above all others, deserved the most), he knew Varya wouldn’t let go of the conversation so easily.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. He let the fabric of her underwear snap back into place against her hip bone, sliding down her body to kiss down her abdomen. “Focus on enjoying your birthday,” he added, “and let your man worry about everything else, hm?”

Varya’s lashes fluttered lightly, eyes watching him hungrily as he worked his way lower and lower still.

“Ambitious,” she murmured, “to think that I will let go of it so easily.”

“Well,” Roman replied against her skin, “I suppose it’s lucky that I love tests, too. And I always—”

The thin, silky fabric of her underwear made the most delicious sound as it ripped, tearing satisfyingly. Varya made a soft, sweet sound, and he glanced back up at her.

“—pass with flying colors.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

In his experience, Roman found that the best time to approach Varya about things was first thing in the morning. If he was exerting any amount of true self-awareness, of course, he would have acknowledged that “approaching” Varya about anything was not about the time of day, but rather how it was done—a skill Roman thought he had only honed in their short time together.

It was nearly ten; they’d roused late, thanks to the previous evening’s festivities—including an after-hours indulgence that Roman was more than pleased to drag out— and now Varya was chatting conversationally with Zsasz, who provided minimal noises between mouthfuls of food. It was as though her annoyance from the previous night had faded with the glow of morning, which left only the bones that Roman had left to pick.

Therefore, in a show of good faith, he let the chatter carry on for a little while before he decided to Broach(TM).

“So,” he said, sitting in his usual spot at the head breakfast table, “Maxim is funny.”

To his right, the brunette hummed and idly stirred her coffee. The gentle clink-clink of her spoon against the side of the mug was almost soothing; little creature comforts Roman hadn’t realized very often that he truly liked.

“I don’t remember you ever mentioning him,” Roman continued casually.

“I do not like to talk about boring things.” Varya’s brow was furrowed, lips pressing into a little line as she read the newspaper. “Pass me the cream, my love?”

She was feigning disinterest, but he thought she might have been listening more closely than she let on; one wolfish little ear swiveled in his direction, always.

He did as she asked. “He has an interesting tattoo on his hand.”

“I did not notice.”

“No?”

Varya finally tilted her head to look at him, dark eyes inquisitive. She didn’t ask what it was she was thinking, not right away; instead, she waited, did that thing where she let him sit in silence, maybe in the hopes that he’d fill it with his own chatter. He didn’t, of course. He wasn’t stupid.

“Romy,” she said sweetly, setting the paper down and resting her chin in her hand as she gazed at him, “won’t you just ask me what you want to ask me?”

There was no room to stop the irritated noise that came out of him at her words. He scoffed and settled more comfortably in his chair, lifting his chin a little and watching her.

“Or we can play the little game,” she acquiesced, as though she were speaking to a particularly tedious child. “You don’t really care about Maxim’s tattoo. You just care what I think of him.” She fluttered her lashes. “Hm?”

“No,” he replied tartly. “I’m curious about the tattoo.” He paused. “And also what you think of him.”

“I think he is boring.”

“Well, I could have told you that.”

A smile curved her mouth, delicate and fine a gesture as gossamer spread across those soft, Renaissance-features. That painting of her that had been done in the ballroom of the Astakhov mansion was still around somewhere, wasn’t it? Not that he needed a painting when he had the real thing, but maybe he’d hang it in the foyer, as a reminder to anyone who just happened to pass by.

“As far as I’m concerned,” Roman continued idly, “this man of yours—”

“My man, is he?”

“—is just one more obstacle to getting what I wanted. How do you think he’s going to react when he finds out that you put his daddy in the ground?”

“If,” Varya replied. “And what do you mean, obstacle?”

Another scoff came out of him. “Varya,” he chided, voice welling with a patronizing tone, warm and buttery, “come now.”

“Roman,” she replied. Her tone mimicked his. “Explain it to me like I am five.”

“I know the oh-so-omniscient lords of St. Petersburg and Moscow are dragging their fucking feet because they don’t like me.”

“You are trying too hard.” She settled back, dipping a bit of cream into her coffee and stirring again. Clink-clink. It offered him no comfort now; it had become a way for Varya to dismiss him. Don’t you see, Roman, how busy I am? “They are like cats. If you try too hard to gain their affections, they will balk and bolt. They hate being coddled, except by a woman. It’s terribly outdated, but what can you do?”

“I’m—” A sharp, incredulous noise came out of him. “I haven’t spoken more than a handful of words to the lot of them!”

“You see? That is already too much.”

“Well, I don’t want them to like me,” he managed out, feeling the bubbling frustration rising up in him. “I couldn’t give a shit if they like me or not. I want them to accept that leadership is changing hands and they have a new boss to answer to, now.” He leaned forward, forearms rested on the table. “And I know Daddy Astakhov liked to brand his things, hm? So what’s Maxim’s tattoo mean?”

Varya leaned forward, too. “I do not know,” she replied evenly, “and I wish you would stop bringing that man up in my presence.”

“I can’t very well erase him from the conversation completely when I’m inheriting his business.”

“My,” she snapped out viciously, suddenly, “you are inheriting my business, Roman.”

It was just a split second. It was only a split second of venom welling up in her expression, suddenly so wicked that not even Roman was shielded from it; it was worse, now, than it had been before. Those times he’d seen the switch inside of her flip had been under great duress. Was this duress to her, now?

Women, Roman thought, watching her smooth dark hair from her face and collect herself. Perhaps motherhood had not made her soft, but rather emotionally volatile. He couldn’t afford to look more hysterical than his wife, so he waited—with great patience and grace, he thought—for her. She cinched the silk robe at her waist more snugly.

“You know that I am happy to do so,” she continued, as though she’d not just bitten his head off in front of Zsasz, “and that I have no problem with it. I just want...” Now, her voice trailed off, and she skimmed the pad of her index finger along the rim of her coffee cup before she picked up the newspaper again, as well as the red-ink ballpoint to her right. “I want it done right, that is all. And if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

A buzzing sound vibrated from the marble hallway leader to the elevator. Roman was waiting for Varya to issue her apology (which she was certainly going to do), and Varya wasn’t looking up from the newspaper.

“Who could be coming so early?” his wife idled, spurring on that molten-hot frustration inside of him as she continued to avoid the topic at hand. “Not someone you called on, Romy?”

The buzzer was the last thing that Roman wanted to think about, let alone deal with. He had much more on his mind; Varya’s elegant dodge of his questions, and—most importantly—her blatant dismissal of his concerns about their current timeline. She was all well and peachy over there, wasn’t she, drinking her coffee and reading her paper and not doing him the courtesy of looking at him?

She had always been a needler, Roman reasoned; she had always had a wild, stubborn streak in her. He’d watched her sit and push Ilarion’s buttons for an entire dinner, once, just to see him get to the edge of snapping at her. She was good at it. He liked it about her, liked watching her do it; might have even made a past-time out of the whole sport of it. How quickly can my little viper unravel a man? Place your bets, gentlemen, time ends when the idiot’s screaming his fucking head off in a public place.

And he would have been foolish to think that she never did it to him.

“Zsasz,” she said, without looking up from the paper, “be a darling and get that, won’t you?”

Zsasz, who had been sitting at the far end of the table watching all of this unfold the way a man might watch a trainwreck happen, moved to come to a stand. Roman barked out, “Stay,” and the movements stilled considerably, immediately. It was satisfying, at least, in an exchange which had been everything but up until then. He turned his gaze to the brunette on his right.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he said tersely. He gestured to Zsasz. “Sit.”

The blonde did. Roman could feel Victor’s eyes darting between them.

“Oh, darling, you are spoiling my morning.” Varya set the newspaper down on the table and smoothed it out primly, the thin paper edges fluttering between her fingers. “Why would you ever say such a silly thing?”

“Varya.”

“Surely you do not mean to.”

“V,” he snapped.

“Well, I do not know what you want me to say,” she replied after a minute, leaning back in her chair to finally look at him. “My father never deigned to share his operations with me. It was always ‘what a tedious child you are, Varvara’ this, and ‘since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved’ that. I mean, the man spent most of my life quoting Machiavelli at me. Do you think he told me what all of his little art projects meant?” She shrugged, picking her newspaper up again, ignoring the second sound of the buzzer. “You could just ask.”

The irritation spiked high and hot in his throat. Of course, he could just ask. Of course, he could, but he was the fucking boss, which meant doing things like asking an employee what a stupid fucking tattoo meant were below him. He replied tersely, “Why don’t you figure it out for me? Clerical work and employee management is your forte, after all.”

Varya hummed. It was a prim, musing hm, the sound she made when he’d said something she found to be particularly annoying. “If you wanted me to personally manage Maxim,” she demurred, glancing at him through dark, sooty lashes, “you only had to say.”

Somehow sensing this particular phrasing was not going to go over well with Roman (it wasn’t), Zsasz said, “Can I buzz ‘em up?”

“Yes,” Varya replied.

“No,” Roman insisted.

“Romy, there’s a guest.”

“I’m not through with you,” he snapped.

“I’m gonna buzz ‘em up,” Zsasz announced.

Roman felt the frustrated note rising in his throat, strangling it before it could quite make its way out of him. His jaw set; his eyes followed Zsasz on his way out of the main room and toward the elevator to—presumably—let up their guest (intruder). He drummed his fingers against the top of the dining table and said, “You think you’re very funny, don’t you?”

“Darling.” Varya leaned forward, elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together and cradling her chin atop them. She looked awfully pleased with herself, the little snake, that gigantic stone sitting on her finger. “If I knew what the tattoo meant, I would just tell you. Why not? I could tell you what the word is, but that is hardly ever what the tattoo actually means.”

Darling, she said, as though she hadn’t just snapped her teeth at him moments before. Roman sucked his teeth. Yes, it was very reasonable, he thought; Nikita had always cherished his son over his daughter, had always anticipated Ilarion taking over the business, as Varya had framed it—and even once, Ilarion had confirmed himself. He wanted you and only you, Ilya, and that’s why you couldn’t look at him when he died. That’s what she’d said, and the memory of that night—of Varya, needling the person she was closest to in the world, weaned from venom and taking so much pleasure from inflicting it on someone else—reminded him that there was still much about his wife left to be unearthed.

And it would be an unearthing. Roman had no doubt that it would be a graveyard he would be turning over, full of skeletons—not just a closet.

From the other room, the sound of an infant’s cry drifted down the hall. Varya’s gaze flickered to the space over Roman’s shoulder, behind him, and she came to a stand.

“I will ask, if you would like me to,” she told him, coming around the table and smoothing her hand along his shoulder in what was supposed to be a peace-making gesture. “But I don’t think there is a reason to bother yourself with the detail.”

He felt his mouth press into a thin line. Fine, he thought, fine, the tattoo isn’t a big deal. But what about everything else? “This is all taking a long time, V.”

“I know.” She paused, and then softened a little, all of her button-pushing and needling having dissipated for the moment; Varya leaned down and kissed his temple, and then the top of his cheekbone. “These things take patience, you know. It is not just a—used car business we are inheriting. There are processes, formalities, the like. The men have to know they can trust you.” She paused, tilting her head and regarding him with dark, inquisitive eyes. “You just have to trust me, Romy.”

Roman sighed. I do, he thought, turning his head to look at her. Don’t I?

Of course, he did. She was his wife, the mother of his children—and Roman hadn’t even wanted kids, not really. Not until he realized how much they, by proxy, made Varya belong to him. There was nothing quite so devoted as carrying someone’s child, was there? So yes; he did trust her, in the same capacity at which he supposed a man trusted a relatively-domesticated panther on a chain. Maybe just a smidge more than that. But enough to expect she’d bite off someone else’s hand, and not his.

“Fine,” is what he said, and the word still came out a little petulant. “I will. I do.” Reaching up, he snagged her wrist when she started to pull away, keeping her in place. She watched him expectantly.

When he didn’t say anything—just watched her, gauging her—she prompted playfully, “Are you going to scold me?”

Roman pressed the pad of his thumb to the pulse point on her wrist. His eyes narrowed. “I ought to, vicious girl. You just can’t resist pushing a button when you see it, can you?”

Her pulse jumped pleasantly under warm skin, whether by the term vicious girl or his touch, he didn’t know. It seemed that storminess had passed as soon as it had arrived; and though she hadn’t yet uttered the words I’m sorry, he almost preferred her like this. Coy.

“You would be bored, otherwise.” Her eyes glittered, mischievous. “Don’t you think?”

His fingers stayed curled around her wrist, but she didn’t try and pull away. Watching the flutter of her eyelashes, the way the corners of her mouth quirked upward in a smile, he felt nearly won over. How tedious, Roman thought, that even when he was irritated with her, he found her endearing. That’s amore.

“Don’t goad me,” he warned, and Varya smiled dreamily at him.

“I love you,” is what she replied, and then leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Let’s never fight again.”

He dropped his grip from her wrist and she stepped around his chair, the silk of her robe fluttering behind her as she started to the sound of babbling infants. The one or two cries that had roused her initially had melted down into baby-chat. Roman was reminded, once again, that they had a nanny on the payroll for seemingly no reason.

“Varya,” he called, taking the newspaper from where she’d left it on the table, “I mean it.”

Her voice drifted from down the hall: “Of course, Romy.”

The sound of the nursery door opening echoed, and then Varya’s voice; saccharine-sweet, honeyed and muffled by distance. He glanced over the front of the newspaper, but it was impossible to focus on the words—what did they matter, anyway? He didn’t give a fuck about what was going on in Gotham. He had bigger fish to fry. Bigger, Russian, potentially radioactive amalgams of different fish that seemed to be stalling on a deal that should have been up and done with already. Not to mention, one of those fish breaking off of the nightmare-fish and showing up, unannounced, sporting tattoos likely administered to him by Nikita Astakhov himself?

These things take patience.

Roman suppressed a scoff. Like he didn’t have patience. He’d been the most patient. Varya had dragged her feet for about a month after they’d put Ilarion in the ground, but after that, things had typically moved fast—the engagement, the twins. Everything except the thing Roman had been waiting for since the beginning. Of course, he’d never anticipated inheriting the business himself and had only gone into the whole thing wanting an exclusive deal, but now he knew better. He knew what was owed to him. He knew what belonged to him.

The elevator door down the main hall dinged. Roman didn’t bother stifling the sigh that wanted to come out of him; it was only ten in the morning, who could possibly need him and for what? He pushed the chair back from the table and came to a stand, sucking his teeth and prepping what he thought could only be the tranquil expression of a man ready to murder before Maxim stepped inside.

He blinked. The tranquility fled his face. Zsasz trailed in after him, looking uneasy. There was something about his expression that didn’t sit right with Roman, the hard lines of the blonde’s face setting him even further on edge. Would his suffering never end?

“Oh, Maximillian,” he greeted, keeping his voice the pinnacle of lazily annoyed. “Clocking in for work a little early, aren’t we? Over-achieving?”

“I am an early riser,” the blonde acquiesced. He looked genuinely apologetic, the fuckhead, in Dolce & Gabbana, no less. “I hope I did not disturb you.”

“A big wager to make, first day on the job.” Roman trailed Zsasz with his eyes, watching the blonde pace around the far end of the table. What had gotten into him since he’d gone to buzz their guest up? Idly, he sat back down at the table, resuming to glance over the words of the newspaper he couldn’t have given two shits about.

And he said nothing. He instead enjoyed, immensely, the act of letting Maxim stand there in silent uncertainty. It was probably almost a full minute before Maxim cleared his throat, prompting Roman to set his newspaper down with a sigh, as though it were very troubling that he had to stop this thing he didn’t even want to do.

“If you’re here to play catch-up with Varya, she’s busy today,” he deadpanned, turning his gaze reluctantly to where Maxim stood. “And every other day. Generally, I think it would be safe to assume she’s much too preoccupied to assist with whatever problems you might have; that type of work is beneath her now, you know.”

“I am sure being a mother and wife is more than enough to keep her busy,” Maxim agreed soberly.

“And transitioning the business in my name,” Roman replied pointedly.

The blonde shrugged, smiling a little. “Of course.”

He felt his eyes narrow. He leaned back in the chair, interlacing his fingers while his elbows rested on the armrests of the chair. It was impossible to figure out what it was about Maxim that Varya might have liked; the man was painfully well-mannered and non-confrontational, which Roman knew wasn’t her style at all.

Never mind that Varya had not once said that there was a romantic interaction between them. That didn’t matter. He knew how men looked at his wife, and Maxim had been a little too comfortable touching her for there to have been nothing at all.

“But, I did not come here to speak to Varya,” the Russian continued, taking a few steps toward the table. “I actually came here to speak to you, Roman.”

Roman blinked. Well, that wasn’t what he expected.

“What?” he asked flatly.

“I wanted to come and see if you were free today,” Maxim elaborated casually. “I was Nikita’s man. Now, I am yours. It only seems right I get to know you better.” He gestured with his hand. “I know you have more than enough help around here, and I was tied up in Turkey before, but...”

Roman’s lips pressed into a thin line. He saw no trace of yesterday’s venom in Maxim’s face, no indication that he was trying to be sarcastic or pull some kind of joke. Instead, Maxim’s face looked completely open and earnest.

“You’re here to ask me on a fucking lunch date,” he began, “and not Varya?”

“Varya,” the blonde replied demurely, “is not my boss.”

Huh, Roman thought. He swept his gaze over Maxim scathingly, and then looked at Zsasz, who remained unreadable. Well, wasn’t that just the most unhelpful thing? It did feel nice to hear Maxim say it, even if Roman would rather see him crying or begging or bleeding out.

“I’m busy today,” he replied after a moment, turning his attention back to Maxim. “But you can swing by the—”

“Maxim.” It was Varya’s voice. Roman turned to look at her. There was no baby in tow. This wouldn’t have been unusual, if Maxim had been a stranger; she tended to keep the twins as far out of reach of people she did not know as much as possible, nested away for safety. But Maxim had been her childhood friend, hadn’t he?

“Good morning,” Maxim greeted her warmly. “I was just asking Roman if he would—”

“I know what you were asking,” Varya interrupted. “You overestimate yourself, showing up to your boss’ home unannounced, don’t you think?”

Maxim looked about as lost as Roman felt; the sensation that he’d stepped into a fever dream very suddenly was washing over him. He looked at Zsasz. The blonde gave a little shrug, as though to say, Why the fuck would I know?

“Varushka,” Maxim ventured after a moment, “you know I did not mean...”

“I don’t know anything at all,” the brunette replied coolly. “You should have called ahead.” She paused, and then added purposefully: “Temka never showed up unannounced.”

Roman found himself in the very strange position of feeling...bad (?) for Maxim, standing there a little helplessly, the poor thing. Varya’s words had gutted him. He could only assume that she was referring to the blonde’s father when she said Temka, by the look on his face, and that—

Oh, you wicked thing, he thought, affection welling up inside of him as he looked at Varya, you know just how to unravel a man. Sticking a salted hot-poker straight into his grief-wound, aren’t you?

“I am sorry,” Maxim said after a minute. “I did not mean to be so thoughtless.”

“The transgression is not mine to forgive.” Varya swept around Roman then, sitting back down in her seat. She looked at him, expectant. “Roman?”

“Me?” he asked.

“It is as Maxim said,” she replied. “You are his boss, not me.”

He waited to see if there was some kind of strange undertow to her words, but he could find none; just Varya waiting, expectantly, for him to excuse Maxim’s showing up without having called ahead. It was odd, and he couldn’t figure out why it was that she was acting like this toward Maxim now—had it been the Varya is not my boss comment? Was she trying to make up for their little spat?

It was commonplace for nothing to be straightforward, with Varya. This was different.

“So,” she continued primly, turning to look at Maxim now, “apologize to your boss.”

“I am—” Maxim stopped, like he didn’t want to do it, drawing Roman’s gaze to him. Quite suddenly, Roman thought he knew exactly what his wife was doing; putting the blonde in a position where he’d have to put good faith behind his words. Varya is not my boss, he’d said, but did that matter if he couldn’t even apologize to Roman?

He finished, more smoothly now, “I am sorry, Roman.”

Roman beamed. “Insolence forgiven,” he replied, all thoughts of his disagreement with Varya gone now. He reached over the table, snagging her hand and dragging the pad of his thumb across the back of her hand. “As I was saying—I am busy today, but you are welcome to swing by the club later this evening. Before midnight. We get busiest just before the witching hour.”

Maxim ducked his head. “Of course.”

Varya’s nails skimmed Roman’s palm. She didn’t look up when she said, “Was there something else, Maxim?”

“I do not think so.”

“Then,” she replied sweetly, “have a lovely afternoon.”

A moment stretched where the blonde looked a little unsure, and then he cleared his throat and said, “Of course,” and excused himself down the hall. Varya circled something in the newspaper with her red-ink pen, her other hands still interlaced with Roman’s.

“Mr. Zsasz,” she began, “did you let Maxim up?”

Zsasz looked at Roman. “I didn’t,” he replied after a minute. “Armazd did.”

“Hm,” came the reply, even as she noted something in the margins of the paper.

“Were you apologizing for your tantrum, just now?” Roman asked. He would puzzle out why Armazd letting Maxim up was worthy of a hm later. Now, he could see the hint of a smile ticking the corners of Varya’s mouth upward, but she did not sway from whatever it was that had captured her attention in the news of Gotham; instead, she circled something absently.

Varya said, “Did you find it a suitable apology?”

He considered. “Well, I would have liked it better if you’d made him cry.”

“It would have spoiled my appetite,” she demurred, folding the newspaper primly and coming to a stand. “I am taking the twins to the park with Irina. And Zsasz too, if you’ll spare him. I won’t be back until late afternoon.”

“Late? Then you’d better come here, wife.” Roman tugged on her hand, watching her expression warm when he said wife. Once, he might have squinted at loaning Zsasz out to her. Now, he didn’t mind; especially if it gave a peace of mind that she and the twins be that more secure. “So that I can get my fill of you before you’re gone.”

The brunette laughed, letting him tug her down onto his lap. She carded the fingers of her free hand through his hair and brushed their noses together; it was all glowing affection, now, warmth buzzing under her skin.

“Oh, darling, now I want to leave quicker, and more often,” she murmured, “so that you’ll never have your fill of me.”

Roman supposed that was how she’d gotten him in the first place. Hooked him with being inaccessible, with being coveted—as if she had always known he was not a man could resist something considered off-limits—and now that he had her, he couldn’t get enough of her. He’d seen the way that others looked at her, and by proxy him; with want. With envy. Bruce Wayne could eat shit.

“Roman,” Varya said, “I want you to be careful when you are around Maxim.”

He paused, pulling back to look at her a little. She smoothed her hand over the slope of his collarbone affectionately.

“You are right,” she continued. “When Maxim finds out what I did—if he does—he will be angry about it. He is used to being the right-hand man, you know. Do not...” She glanced down, looking for the words. “Do not give it to him so easily. Make him work for it and prove himself to you.”

Tracing the lines of her expression—soft, concerned—Roman dragged his thumb across her wrist.

“I told you, doll.” He planted an affectionate kiss to her wrist. “Don’t worry about these things. I’ve got it perfectly under control.”

“I know,” she agreed. “I know you do, Romy—”

“Then stop this fussing,” he interjected mildly. “You’re spoiling your very charming apology. You know I love a good public humiliation. Which park are you taking the twins to?”

The dark eyes of his wife swept over his face for a minute, contemplative and impossible to gauge, before she smiled at him warmly.

“The one just a few blocks away. It has the most shade. Mr. Zsasz, won’t you bring the car around?”

And just like that, things were back to normal. Varya swept away to busy herself with getting ready and loading the twins, and Zsasz went to pull the car around, leaving Roman at the table for a rare moment of peace. Soon enough, he’d have all the information he needed from Dorian, and he could well-and-truly mitigate Maxim Kuznetsov as a problem, and everything would be back on track. He could bet money Varya didn’t think he’d had the foresight to dig up information on Maxim—it wasn’t his style to get his hands dirty, but extreme circumstances called for extreme measures.

Roman sighed, quite pleased.

Back to normal.

#spilled ink #f: the land of gods and devils #roman sionis/oc #x: this smile is a loaded gun #c: varya astakhova #c: roman sionis #c: victor zsasz #c: maxim kuznetsov #honorable mention to dorian for being a true homie #birds of prey fic #birds of prey oc #i think uhhhhhhhh yeah i think that's it!#thank you thank you thank you everyone who has even given me a tiny bit of love for this #it's definitely a project that's self-indulgent but !!!!#<3

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itseivwhore · 3 years

Note

Hey! Can you write some headcanons on how Ezio, Arno and Jacob would react if their partner has quarantined themselves because they have interacted with a confirmed Covid19 case? I'm in quarantine right now because of a confirmed case in my University. I've isolated myself in my room, I don't even let my parents near me, so I'd love to get some support! ♥️♥️

Heyo @sofiewithat (too bad this time I can't say:"Heyo anonimo" like I always do :( ) !Thank you a lot for requesting this,I actually wanted to write some headcanons a bit like these (most precisely,how the quarantine would be with them,stuff like this). I hope everything will turn out to be fine for you,but for now,just stay at home,easy peasy,be safe...because out there it's a (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ m e s s.

Let's start now,shall we?

~~~~~

|°Ezio°| :

"No hugs and kisses for the chef today?"

When you came home you didn't go into the kitchen,as you used to do,to greet Ezio with a warm,long hug and the usual passionate kisses.

Instead,you limited yourself at stopping at the treshold of the kitchen,leaning with a shoulder against the frame of the door,watching him cooking,standing there in silence.

He only needed some quick glances,thrown at you as he was busy preparing dinner,to understand and to notice that something happened,that something was wrong.But he kept on gently smiling at you nevertheless,silently and tacitly encouraging you in letting out what you needed to say.

But you were trying to think,to find a way to tell him the not really good news...knowing that,most likely,he would have reacted a little bit too dramatically.

"COSA?!" loudly shouting this as he sharply turned around,facing you.

Ezio nearly dropped the plate of pasta he had in his hands.

You knew very well how he could be so dramatic with everyone and about everything.But you could have said from how his soft and arm brown eyes,that became dim and dark with seriousness,his expression torn between a worried and a shocked one,that he was not being theatrical as his usual.

Not this time at least,and not for this reason.

You tried to explain him everything,trying with all of your best to not worry him even more than he already was.

And him,viceversa,didn't want to look too scared and preoccupied at your eyes.If anything -not counting that first moment when he loudly shouted- he started to be hopeful,telling you that everything would turn out to be fine.

He (and you too) had to think like this,in such times.

But the young Auditore didn't look happy and/or pleased when you told him your decision: at all. Staying away from each other would have meant...no hugs?No kisses?No gentle touches?No cuddles?

He was going to die.

"Amore...I'm dying here!" you once heard him shouting this from the living room while you were in your room.

But nevertheless,he respected your will.

Ezio needed to feel your presence around him in the house.

Who knows for how many times he instinctively stepped closer to you to wrap you in a hug when he saw you walking around the house,and you had to stretch your arms out,walking away from him.

Who knows for how many times you had to remind him to not step too close to you.

And you hate when you looked at him giving you these purely and utterly sad glances,making your heart ache.

You missed not being able to spend so much time with him as you both used to do,laying together on the couch,watching a film,and most of all,cooking lunch and dinner together.

One particular thing that just genuinely brought small tears to your eyes,was when you woke up in the middle of the night,and as you were walking towards the kitchen to get a glass of water,you saw Ezio laying on the couch,sleeping deeply,half covered by a blanket.

"It's not the same to sleep without you between my arms,tesoro"

Be sure that you would find a plate of pasta everyday for lunch.

"Trust me,pasta will kill every little nasty virus that there might be inside you" saying this as he was sitting on the couch,now his new bed,in the living room,making you laugh loudly.

~~~~~

|°Arno°| :

"Arno...?"

You knew you had to tell him that with caution.You knew you had to think billions of time before telling him...that.

The poor boy was there,leaning on the wall,eyes vailed by a thick vail of worry as he was staring at you,motionless.

"Tell me you are joking"

He tried to convince himself that what you were saying wasn't the truth.His head was a mess now,thoughts fogging his mind with endless questions: what if you caught it?And what if...

But you actually managed to calm Arno down,even if a bit.Saying that you were feeling well and that there was no need to be scared and preoccupied that much.

Arno agreeded,even if with a bitter grimace and with a melancholic gaze,with the idea about being distanced from each other: not being afraid,though,on admitting that it wouldn't have been the same.

These weeks passed away pretty quickly thanks to him and his thoughtfulness.He still managed to care and look after you even if you didn't let him close,showing you affection by little gestures,actions and phrases.

And that was amazing,to say at least.

"Do you need something?" asking this at least onehundred of times in a day,wanting to help with all of himself.

"Are you feeling okay,mon amour?" slightly opening the door of your shared bedroom,peeking and leaning only his head inside,gently smiling at you.

Finding a baquet of your favourite flowers in various vases around the house every day.

Smiling happily when,each morning for breakfast,you found a hot croissant in the table of the kitchen,knowing that Arno bought it for you before going to work.

Noticing that-when he left you alone at home because of his work- you often would see posts-it scattered all around the house for you to find,reading the sweet phrases he wrote for you with a grateful smile on your lips as you traced his graceful and long handwriting with your fingertip.

"Je t'aime tant xxx "

We all know that this Frenchman is a romantic:utterly and completely in love with you,and he would do anything to see you in a good mood...even if it would include trying to hide his own preoccupation to make you feel good.

~~~~~

|°Jacob°| :

"Nice one,love,nice one" he scoffed when you told him what happened,throwing himself on the couch as he was eating some snacks,giving you a confident and relaxed expression.

For a first moment he really thought that you were joking around,just teasing him:but when you showed him a serious face and a low voice -which he feared a lot- he understood that what you were saying was only the truth.

You would have bet that you would never have seen Jacob get paler than he already was.

"Bloody hell" indeed.

He was pretty...nonchalant about it.Cracking some jokes here and there,saying that you were perfectly healthy-his own words-and that there was nothing to worry about.

Jacob could have been very,very persuasive,and he actually managed in his intention:making you believe that he wasn't worried or stressed or anything like that.

But of all the things that this Brit was,he wasn't a good secret keeper,or a good liar,either way.

One afternoon,while he believed that you were resting in your room,you heard him talking softly to Evie,confessing her his worries and all of his preoccupations about what happened in such a low,almost scared voice,that made your heart melt.

Of course you had no doubt that Jacob cared about you with all of his heart and soul,but you couldn't help but smile and feeling grateful for having him at your side:not worsening the situation by adding his own fears with yours too,but actually making it all go away in his unique,special ways.

You didn't mention and/or told him that you heard his talk with his sister:you knew that it would have hurt,even if a little,his pride and ego.

A thing you actually adored about the young twin,was that he was able to make even the last laughable thing into a funny one. How he was able to do that?You didn't know,but you loved the male twin more for this particular shade of his personality.

Scaring the life out of you when he wore a plague doctor mask,pretending to be a doctor,his gestures so theatrical as he peeked his head in your shared room while wearing that scary mask.

"Visit hour for my favourite patient"

"Where did you get that?!"

"Ezio gave this to me"

Talking-shouting with each other from your bedroom,where you were most of the time,to the living room,where he was.

"TEA,LOVE?!"

"MAYBE LATER!"

You knew Jacob,reckless and relentless,breaking the rules you imposed for these weeks: sometimes getting way too close to you.

"Bloody corona virus can't stop me"

If he says so...

Jacob would do anything at his disposal,in his best ways,to brighten up your days and to cheer you up.

°*°TrAnSlaTiOnS!°*°

"Cosa?!" = what;

"Amore" = love;

"Tesoro" = darling.

"Mon amour" = my love;

"Je t'aime tant" = I love you a lot.

~~~~~

I hope you'll like these!I wrote them as soon as I could ;)

Addio.

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colemacgrathtkz · 3 years

Text

Play along?

Previously. Next?

Disclaimer: Another long one and fair warning on this.

"This is much more gushy than your last book"- Piniet

Lilith: "I do not appreciate being bait for you two."

Shortly after Luz's recent visit to the Owl house, two schemers made contact.

Willow: "You're a pretty obvious target. If she's too far gone, you'd be the first to know."

Gus: "Besides, we were watching... from a safe distance. If she tried anything..."

Lilith: "Enough! Just take your ingredient and go."

The Clawthorne sister handed the brown bottle Luz drank from.

Gus(grossed out): "Score one for back wash."

Willow: "Thanks again for your help. We want to believe Luz is back. But just in case..."

Lilith: "I'll inform my sister of tonight. So, if you two don't mind?"

Taking their cue to leave, the young duo set off. Gus would take their "prize" while Willow got Amity ready for the next ruse.

[A few nights later, in the woods]

Tonight, the first official date for Amity and Luz.

Noceda was still insistent on meeting with everyone. But there was one request that kept popping up since day one.

Luz had been pestering her girlfriend about a date for a while. The Blight girl had been putting it off. Until the lass discovered Luz's new masked alter ego. The all powerful witch was still feared around town. But with a disguise, she preformed illusion plays. Most notably, Lumity's biggest hits. Some children would run up to the New Coven leader after seeing one of the shows.

Not wanting to be embarrassed again, Amity agreed to the date, in exchange for canceling Lumity theater shows.

Now, dressed in casual wear, she waited what her date had planned.

Amity: "I can't believe I'm doing this."

A purple haze creeped around her. Knowing full well what this was, she called out to her theatrical partner.

Amity: "A young girl, all alone in woods, with purple smoke floating around. Someone's pretty confident?"

Her date emerged from the clearing.

Luz: "I like to make an impression."

Expecting to see her in a "Good witch Azura" outfit, this was different.

Luz stood in something close to her old grom outfit. But the tutu skirt was replaced by top hat.

Luz: "Now, if you'll just let me take the lead?"

Amity took her escort by the arm. Walking together, she couldn't help but notice Luz's constantly twirling finger.

Amity: "Should I be worried? I was expecting..."

Luz: "The good witch, Luzura? Too obvious. Figured 'Amity in wonderland' was the way to go."

Her date didn't get it.

Luz: "I'll show it to you someday."

Coming to a halt, a vine picked them up and set them on a branch.

Luz: "See down there? That's where I first saw you. Witch drama with a hint of foreshadowing."

Luz created illusions to recreate the memory for them. While the show carried on, she leaned closer to her lady friend.

Luz: " Look at us! Top student and her new favorite abomination, sitting in a tree. The stories people could write about us!"

Amity brought her hand up, blocking Luz's advance. Playfully pushing her off, she knew Luz wouldn't get hurt on the way down.

Luz(overly dramatic): "Ah yes, how tragic. These two wouldn't know how they felt until it was possibly too late."

Summoning a abomination creature (much like the one that beat Grometheus), the two were swept away on to the next stage. The forest appearing to clearly be distorted. The land and trees twisting into a single path.

Luz(smirking): "But what if things were different?"

And just like that, Hexside stood before them.

Luz: "What do you say? A do over?"

Before she could answer, her date ran inside.

Amity( under her breath): "I'm pretty sure they locked this up for the night."

Stepping in, the flares lit the way. She heard Luz's echoes; narrating from somewhere. Just a single door seemed to be around throughout the entire hallway.

Luz's voice: "Just another day at a magic school, nothing out of the ordinary."

The green haired girl cautiously entered. Inside, she saw her date in two corners. One tucked behind a curtain and the other sitting at a desk.

Real Luz: "Pay no attention to the cool fox behind the curtain."

The other sat staring out the window. But her hair was shorter, like it was originally. She also wore a purple and white sailor uniform. Luz was an anime fan, after all.

Amity, once again not getting the reference, stood back and watched.

Another Luz walked onto the scene. This had her hair slicked back and wore a darker uniform.

Bully Luz: "Hey, Luuzer, stopping mucking up the place and get lost already!"

Real Luz: "What's this? This cute as an otter school girl is getting bullied. Will anyone stand by her against this juvenile foe? Preferably before I run out of things outta this thesaurus?"

Taking her cue, it made sense Luz would set this up. A redemption for a former bully.

This was still weird, though. The false punk faced the intervenor.

Bully Luz: "What?! Got something to say, little miss... sorry. I can't do this, even if we are just pretending. You can see where I'm going with this, right?"

Nodding, Amity used an abomination arm to punch the "bully" right in the gut. She poofed on impact, attracting the other one's attention.

Student Luz: "Well, who are you, my sassy savior?"

Amity: "Luz, maybe this isn't such a good idea?"

Bolting from the curtain, her date seemed startled by the question.

Real Luz: "Ok, so maybe I shouldn't have gone anime on you. I thought for sure high school magical girl was a safe bet.

Fear not, I have a back up plan!"

A ball of fire hovered outside the window. Luz picked her date up and tossed her out. Amity slid down what appeared to be a slide made of ice. A little shaken, she almost didn't notice her wardrobe change. Her grudgby uniform, in all its glory.

Luz stood by her, showcasing hers as well.

Luz: "Behold! Powered by nothing but their bond, two partners face off against painful dilemma."

Amity sighed at two abominations who looked suspiciously like her siblings.

Amity: "Why abominations this time?"

Luz(winking and nudging): "We can have more fun this way. Grudgby is about getting down and dirty, right?

Besides, we both know you like this. Just us up against Edric and Emira. Ready to blow off some steam?

Amity(trying to hide a smile): "You need three for grudgby."

Luz: "It's a personal match. Stop sweating the small stuff and take down your brother and sister."

For the next ten minutes, things went pretty well. Amity even called for a rematch.

But things died down after a half hour. True to form, Luz brought them to a new setting. Clearly not wanting the fun to end, new attire came with it.

Both wore what appeared to be a blend of knight armor and witch robes.

The giant Otabin mutant was poised before them, in a burning library.

Luz: "Well, what do you say us fearless champions defeat this... monstrosity?! Come, it's the only way to return it to it's original form."

Amity: "Ok, that's enough."

Raising two abomination arms, she handed this date a hiatus.

Both Otabin and Luz were held for a chat.

Amity: "You've been getting pretty good at making illusions."

Luz: "It's important to keep up with shows. You know, for the kids."

Amity: "You know, I get it. The themes and trips down memory lane. You have no idea what you're doing."

Luz blushed after realizing she'd been caught.

Luz: "I didn't date much before I came here. Even after I 'left', experience wasn't happening. So, this is my first ever date."

Amity: "Our first ever date! Now, let me lead!"

Releasing her girlfriend, Amity walked over with a new suggestion. Or rather, an old one.

Amity(reaching out): "Well then, if that's settled, may I have this dance?"

Grinning from the nostalgia, the two joined hands and grabbed shoulders.

Luz set her phone down and started a playlist. And with that, they lost track of time.

However, it became obvious that something had been on their minds.

Amity: "Listen, I know things have been hard for you. We-I haven't exactly made it easy. But I'm just afraid. I wanted you back for so long. When you came back, I didn't see you. I was too scared of the monster you used to be. So afraid... I thought about using these."

The young Blight lady pulled out memory tweezers from her pocket.

Amity: "I just had to know. Where is it? What are you hiding? Who are you really?

Well, now I know. You're still that weird human girl who cares alot. Which is why I can't call you my girlfriend until I ask. Luz Noceda, will you be my... mine?"

Embarrassment caused her to mess up the ending. Luz blinked for a couple of seconds. She couldn't help but let out a short laugh. Amity's face was red enough. She quickly tried to explain herself.

Luz: "Querida, I've been yours for a while now. But yes, just to make it official. And since we're sharing, there's something I want to ask you.

I love being back and having magic at my fingertips. But I want to see my mom again. I meant what I said. I came back to ask for help in that department. Since magic, witches, and demons isn't really a... credible story, where I'm from. I need you guys to come with me.

So, what I'm asking you is... do you want to meet my mama?"

Amity's fearless champion was nervous about a "meet the parents" scenario.

Amity: "After tonight, you might want to teach me a crash course on your life back home?

I mean, yes, I'll do what I can to make that happen."

Filled with joy, once again, Amity became caught in a famous Noceda hug. But this time was different. Just as Luz began to pull away, Amity surprised her with a kiss.

Dumbfounded, Luz just stared at her.

Amity was on the verge from being happy to worried.

Amity: "What?"

Luz: "It's just I'm usually the one who..."

Giggling amongst themselves, they couldn't help but remember the books they used to read.

Amity: "Yeah, well, take a look around."

No longer standing in a library of ash and kindling, they were standing at the center of Hexside's gymnasium. The very spot where they both originally were supposed to face Grom.

Luz's illusions had faded without her even realizing it.

Luz: "I guess, show's over?"

Amity: "Not yet."

Whispering in instructions, Amity finally made Luz blush( on purpose).

Illusion magic changed their appearance to that of their first grom night.

Amity: "One more dance."

This time, Luz's hands went to Amity's waist. Meanwhile, Blight arms rested on her shoulders.

Luz: "I think I want to tell you where the staff is."

Bonus:

Willow and Gus anxiously waited in the manor.

Willow knew, Amity was the only one Luz would give her undivided attention to. They used the date for some much needed time to complete their mission.

Now, they needed to report what they learned to the girl at the dead center of all of this.

The door opened and a certain green haired witch walked in, with delight.

Gus: "Where have you been?!"

Amity: "On my date with Luz. And the real question is, what are you two doing waiting in my house for?"

Willow: "Your family let us in before they stepped out."

Amity: "They left? You two? By yourselves? In a manor?"

Gus: "Your parents warned us not to touch anything. Then your brother and sister told us to take something. Honestly, those are some mixed messages.

Now, can you please just listen to what we've got. You really need to know what Luz's up to."

Willow: "Wait, what's our code word?"

Gus maybe the illusionist of the trio. But Willow was picking up on some suspicious vibes.

Amity: "I can't really remember that, right now."

At that moment, Willow caused every plant in the manor to whip towards Amity.

Willow: "There wasn't one."

Dodging plant creatures and Gus clones, the illusion came apart.

Luz stood before them.

Luz: "Well, I wanted to see you guys, again. How have things been?

...

What have I been up to, hmm? Just what were you going to tell Amity?"

That familiar glow appeared, causing her dear friends to gulp at the sight.

Luz: "Come on, guys, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you. I want us to be friends, like we used to be. You can trust me on that."

Not buying that, they managed to corner her. She was holding back, not even striking back once.

Luz: "Willow? Gus? Come on, I thought we were still friends?"

Right then, they went for their shots. But as the blows landed, she disappeared in a blue puff.

Luz: "Now I gotta know."

Before they had a second, a sleep spell was cast from behind.

The duo was unconscious before the real empress. Who just so happened to pull out a pair of memory tweezers from her pocket.

Empress Luz: "What have you two been up to?"

#Broken! Luz AU #lumity #the owl house #amity blight #luz noceda #lilth clawthorne #lilth #willow park #willow #agustus porter #Gus #toh #amityxluz #luz x amity #story I pieced together

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branchingcrossroads · 3 years

Text

Finished “Wolf 359”. Welllll that was... theatrical.

((Spoilers below for “Wolf 359″))

Could talk about the little things, like Cutter losing his cool and letting the “ever-cheerful, ever-friendly, ever-in-control” mask drop during the “get Eiffel back” scene. (Personally, could’ve done without that - Cutter’s such a good smiling villain, and the situation didn’t seem that urgent and irretrievable. But I guess the stress got to him after all. Happens to the best of us.) ((Supervillains Get Burnout Too, It’s a Known Occupational Hazard?)) Or how you have a silly or heartwarming bit, and then The Music starts up, and you go “oh no, don’t you dare, don’t you-”, and of course a few moments later something goes Tragically Wrong and you get a kick in the feels.

Could talk about character arcs, and how Kepler had some ideals and standards after all, or how Cutter and Pryce were shown as villains to the end - (especially at the end) - despite the humanizing moments.

Could talk about overall impressions, like how W359 is emotion-driven and character-driven, and I’m guessing a lot of the plot fell into place as the show progressed. IMHO, a bunch of things are fairly shaky in terms of logic or internal consistency, for the sake of creating a Strong Feeling or a Dramatic Scene. Not necessarily a bad thing, but... There’s “sad stuff happened because it was unavoidable”; there’s “sad stuff happened because that’s how chance would have it”; and then there’s “sad stuff happened because we wanted to create Sad Feels“.

Well, they’ve succeeded, I have these Sad Feels I don’t need right now. SO, let’s bend logic some more, shall we?

*deep breath in*

A second Eiffel turns up on the Urania on the way to Earth. That’s a version of Eiffel that Bob scanned earlier. There’ll be a bit of confusion and soul-searching, but eventually the Eiffels will sort themselves out. The “surrogate” Eiffel, with his first-hand memories, will face his past and try to reconnect with his family. The memory-wiped Eiffel will get a fresh start, not burdened by his past, and live his dream of “no longer being that person”. The two will stay good friends and pseudo-twins, though they won’t meet too often, to avoid being a bad influence on each other. (They will watch “Star Wars” together. And ”surrogate” Eiffel will go on and on about how he envies memory-wiped Eiffel for just getting to experience this for the first time.)

Hera and Lovelace will team up to dismantle Goddard Futuristics. One day they’ll find an archive of the various minds that were stored there. Among others, they’ll find Hilbert (who did send in a copy of his mind before the mutiny) and Maxwell (because of course she makes daily backups. As an AI specialist with access to that kind of technology, why wouldn’t she?) So they’ll recreate both Hilbert and Maxwell as AIs, (at least in part) because of Hera’s need for closure. Things will be shaky for a while, but eventually all the accusations and anger and tears will run their course and everyone will be able to move on. Hera will have a ball teaching Maxwell the ropes of being an AI. Maxwell herself will be thrilled with getting to be the thing she loved and studied, and wonder why she didn’t think of it herself. Hilbert will grudgingly acknowledge that there are advantages to having instant access to any fact, figure, or research article right inside his head. Seeing what Decima was turned into, he’ll finally drop it, and direct his obsession with Saving Lives to making sense of Cutter and Pryce’s methods for (creating? renewing? modifying?) human bodies. (He’ll probably also have to take some kind of course in applied ethics...)

Bob doesn’t even need any ret-conning, we know they’re fine, they don’t even have a concept of death.

And out there in space, the Hephaestus - a the Hephaestus - continues to orbit Wolf 359, because why the heck not. You don’t send a station into this star and expect it to never turn up again. Who populates it? IDK. Maybe no one. Maybe Kepler - he was tossed out an airlock, and who’s to say there wasn’t a convenient solar flair at the moment? Maybe the previous Hephaestus crew. Their signals will eventually reach Lovelace - now that’ll be a reunion.

And then nothing blew up and it was fortunate and they were fortunate and everything was fortunate forever after, the end.

#Wolf 359 #if you love something - analyze it to death #or make up a happy ever after I guess

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ahsoka-lives · 4 years

Text

Chasing

Iris Pt. 5 Inquisitor!Cal x Reader

Warnings: TW: Someone is killed but it’s not too graphic. Smut, Master kink, vulgar language, inappropriate use of the force, overstimulation, unprotected sex.

A/N: Yes, finally some smut. I’m honestly just going to keep adding to this fic until I feel it gets closure. I just have so much free time right now so I keep writing. Please enjoy and a big thanks for all the love!! I always appreciate feedback and a huge thanks for those of you who have messaged me!! Gif is by @wiccangoddes. I do not own the planet or characters in the story.

Word Count: 3282

Kashyyyk was unlike any place you’ve seen before. It was alive in every sense of the word. At first when Cal said you’d need round the clock protection when on planet you thought he was being dramatic but after almost getting your leg torn off by a vine that tried to eat you, you understood exactly what he meant.

You’d been here for two days now. Cal was to protect an artifact that was being studied by the Empire at the base.

So, as the sun on Kashyyyk rose he gathered you and 3 troopers in black armor to discuss the plan- “Being that the target is after a relic that is being held in this base, we know he can’t be too far out. I want a perimeter 2 clicks out but not too tight. You three and myself will venture outside the perimeter and try to push him in the right direction. You,” He pauses and despite the mask covering his eyes, you knew his eyes were on you. “I need you to track the beacon in my helmet and the heat signature that the target’s body will give off. As soon as you get a ping on him I want quarterly updates on his location. We’re going to trap him inside, make him think he got in on his own and then I’ll take care of it. Tell the men not to engage directly, there’s no need to lose lives today.”

And with that he left, leaving you in the security room with two troopers and BD-1. You’d been in there for five hours just watching the little green dot that was Cal’s tracking beacon.

“Hey, y/n, could you take a look at my transponder? I think it short circuited.” A storm trooper asked approaching you.

“Sure thing.” You were happy to have something to do while you waited. You reached your bag from behind you and grabbed for a screw driver.

“So, what’s someone like you doing with a man like that?” His words surprised you and an argument in Cal’s defense began forming in your mind.

“Trooper, if you need help with your suit you are to report to your division captain. Master Kestis gave strict orders for you not to bother his partner. If I were you, I wouldn’t go against them.” A commander on duty spoke from in the doorway, her voice strong through the modulator.

“Yes sir.” The trooper nodded and walked back to his position at the door.

His partner?

Bloop!

The panel signaled that the heat signature of the target had come up on the radar.

“Cal, he’s just breached the 4th sector.” You immediately spoke into your comlink.

“Copy.” He replied simply, you watched as the green dot who had been traveling through the middle of the 3rd sector turned sharply and started toward the 4th. The target was nearing the perimeter but Cal and his men were gaining on him fast, a little too fast if this plan was to work.

“If you want this to last much longer you’ll have to slow down, Cal.” You warn, a nervousness coming over you. He was chasing a dangerous fugitive directly to the base you sat in.

“Don’t worry, flower, this isn’t my first chase.” A strong blush comes over your face, this was a shared frequency. Did he not care at all about the others listening in?

The commander behind you stifled a laugh and you made a mental note to give him a piece of your mind later. But right now, the target was seconds from breaching the perimeter.

“Sector 4 perimeter, you’ll be having company any minute now.” The commander cautioned. “Remember, make it look like you’re after him but do not engage directly, Master Kestis wants this one for himself.”

You watched in amazement as the target ran further past the perimeter, Cal in pursuit. You felt your nerves heighten as the chase came closer and closer to your building. You just had to be in the eastern wing.

“I sense unease from you, y/n. You don’t think I can protect you?” Cal teased.

“How could have you possibly sensed that?” You were in disbelief.

“Intimacy bonds people, sweets. Now, I gotta go, someone else needs my attention.” The line ended leaving you to deal with the repercussions of his blatant flirting. Your face burned and you turned to glare at the troopers who’d had their gaze fixed on you.

They were quickly distracted by the group of troopers running away from the buildings entrance.

“Ma’am, it may be best for you to move to a more secure location.” The commander was now standing directly behind you with her weapon drawn. The panel was no longer displaying Cal or the target, meaning they were inside the facility.

You nod and rise to your feet, following the commander to the door. She turned up her blaster to look both ways down the hallway before nodding her head to the right. “This way.”

Just as you rounded the corner when you heard the voice of Cal from down the hall. You pause and look up at the commander who was staring back at you, and while you couldn’t see her face, you knew she wasn’t too happy about what you were about to do.

You inch your way to the corner of the hall and peer at it seemingly empty.

“You seem lost!” Cal called mockingly, walking into the opposite end of the hall with the target a few steps of ahead of him. The target was taking cautious steps backwards and had his saber raised in defense while Cal was lazily holding his at his side.

The man suddenly brought his saber up and attempted to strike Cal only for him to to block it. Cal almost seemed bored.

The Inquisitor brought his free hand up in an all too familiar fashion and the man was promptly raised a few feet up, his saber deactivating and falling to the ground.

“They just don’t make em like they used to.” Cal tsked before dropping his hand and swinging his saber around to slash through the mans abdomen in one fell swoop.

You stood there in shock at what you had witnessed, Cal struck him down with such finesse. He twirled the saber and deactivated it before hanging it back onto his hip.

“Target neutralized.” He said simply into the comlink. “Let’s get this cleaned up, gentlemen.

Cal stepped over the body and walked toward the room he last saw you in but stopped short when he felt something tugging him elsewhere. He glanced down the hall and there you stood, staring at him with shock written all over your face.

“What? You’ve never seen him fight before?” The commander sneered from behind you.

You turned and glared at her before quickly returning your gaze to the man walking toward you. You straightened your posture and took a deep breath in, he’d been gone so long and you wanted him back.

You hated to admit it but that stupid helmet suited him.

“Really? You think so?” He chuckled darkly and removed his gloves. You rolled your eyes at the Inquisitor before you, you hated how in tune he was after missions. You didn’t get to say anything else before he wrapped you up in a quick hug. Your head against the firm chest plate wasn’t ideal but it was refreshing to feel his warmth again.

He released you and turned to address the commander.

“Your men were efficient in the field today, good work. You’re dismissed.” He said with a wave of his hand, she nodded and turned on her heel. “And you, you did well today, too. I’m glad to see this position is working out. Now, come let’s get going.”

The sky was now dark and decorated with twinkling stars. You were sitting in a sofa chair, leaning toward the large sliding door to look out at them. The room you were staying in was several floors up and overlooking a lake that was whimsically reflecting the stars above.

“I got report that a storm trooper was a little forward with you today.” Cal said from behind you.

Without turning to look at him you sigh and close your eyes.

“I don’t know if it’s anything to be worried about, you know how men are, Cal. But you,” You turn to look at him now and see that his hair is wet and messily pushed back. The only clothes on his body are a pair of athletic pants and black socks to match. His toned arms are crossed over his chest and one of his eyebrows are raised as he waits for you to finish. “Why did a trooper call me your partner? And why are you being so forward while we’re working. ?” You huffed, refusing to let his appearance weaken your defenses.

“I’m not sure what rock you lived on before Iris, but where I’m from ‘partner’ is a term of endearment for someone you’re in a relationship with. And as for ‘flirting’, I am just being affectionate with my partner. Which I am allowed to do.” He cocked his head to side and you watched as gears turned in his head.

Your heart swelled, with the little emotion he showed, that meant a great deal to you.

“You’ve been calling me ‘Cal’ which, now that we’re discussing it I’ve decided, it humanizes me a bit too much in front of my men. It’ll be Master Kestis from now on.” He had to be messing with you now.

“No way. It’s completely different, Cal.” You pressed back. There was no way you were calling him that, it was theatrical.

“What did I say on the ship? I can’t have you disrespecting me in front of my troopers.” His tone was playfully arrogant as he continued. “I can’t let them think of me in that light. ‘Master’ just rolls off the tongue though, don’t you think?”

You didn’t know what it was but you were starting to feel your ears buzzing and your heart started beating a little faster. Cal was stalking toward you eerily calm.

“Seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” You retort, subconsciously pressing further back into the chair.

“Hm, maybe, but it lets everyone in the room know who’s really in charge.” He insisted finally a few simple steps in front of you. He felt the anticipation seeping toward him from your position in that chair. The longer he was apart from you the more enticing your lips looked, the longing for them to be against his was almost unbearable.

“W-what are you implying?” You shuddered, his proximity making every ounce of audacity leave your body.

“Maker, that ship was so restricting.” He groaned, dropping to one knee in front of you. “I’d hate to let this opportunity go to waste.”

Without letting another second pass his hands slid up your thighs and gripped your hips, lifting you up and hauling you over his shoulder. He stood and carried you to the bed where he gently laid you down and crawled over top of you.

Your chest was now heaving as the Inquisitor above you scanned your face before dipping down to kiss you. Maker, you missed this. Your lips melded together with his in a euphoric bliss that made a small moan escape against his lips.

“Arms up.” His lips left yours and immediately began kissing down your jaw agonizingly slowly. He paused to take off your top, exposing your breasts and discarding it somewhere on the floor before continuing down your neck, nipping at the delicate flesh. His calloused hands ghosted over your stomach and began tugging on the waistband of your pants. Within seconds your legs were exposed to cool air that filled the room.

Next came rough fingers pulling lightly at your panties.

“May I, flower?” He hummed looking into your glazed eyes.

“Y-yes, Cal.” Your trembling fingers gripped the sheets lightly.

“What did I just say? Don’t tell me your memory is failing you, y/n.” He teased and lifted your hips slightly to slide off your panties. “It’s Master to you.”

You gasped at his words, his lips began peppering light kisses on your stomach and you felt wetness pooling between your legs. You wanted him to touch you so badly. His arms were holding your waist steady while he had his fun dragging out his path to your core.

He moved to separate your thighs and he let your legs rest over his broad shoulders, his hands over your stomach.

His head dipped down and placed light kisses on the insides of your thighs making your muscles tense and you whine out feeling impatient. He abruptly pulled you in closer, his mouth now mere centimetres from your core. His eyes look up at you as he places a kiss directly onto your clit.

Your eyes screw shut and rush your hands to his hair earning a chuckle from him.

“You’re so sensitive.” He mutters with his eyes taking in the view of your body writhing underneath his touch. His tongue gently draws a line from your slit and flicks against your bundle of nerves making you pull on his hair and moan.

“Do you want me to take care of you, my flower?” He cooed before lazily bringing his thumb to rub circles on your clit.

You opened your mouth to answer but a loud moan came out instead as he inserted a long finger into your core and began pumping it slowly inside of you.

“Before you answer, my sweet, remember who you’re talking to.” He warned. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and your breathing was faltered.

“T-take care of me, p-please, Master.” You pleaded as you melted further at his touch.

“Was that so hard?” He taunted and finally returned his mouth to your core. He was relentlessly steady with his pace as he fingered you and sucked on your clit. It wasn’t long before you were pulling harshly on his hair as your orgasm neared.

“Fuck, master, I-,”You moaned loudly, earning a groan from Cal. You came hard at his mercy and he just wouldn’t stop. You were coming down from your high but you couldn’t take time to recover because Cal had all but ignored that you reached your peak.

“Oh gods, I-I came, Cal.” You breathed and the hand in his hair gripped it tightly, trying to signal he could stop.

“Yes, I know but I’m enjoying myself so if you don’t mind.” His wrist flicked forward and your hands were pressed onto the bed beside your head, your hips were held in place against the mattress, and he continued to lick and suck at your clit. He would pause to lick the juices from your slit before allowing two of his fingers to continue inside of you.

Your hands were craving to be back in Cal’s hair and it was evident in the loud moans and whimpers escaping past your lips. The urge to grind your hips closer to his face was screaming in your mind but your muscles weren’t able to carry out the motion. His soft lips grazed over your clit and you felt yourself come undone again.

You were whimpering and shaking, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure wracking your body. Cal placed one last kiss to your clit before pulling away and sitting up to admire your current state. You watched as he licked each of his fingers with his greenish yellow eyes staring back at yours.

You let your eyes close as your breathing returned to slight normalcy and you felt Cal climb over you and hover above. His lips were wet with your slick as he placed a tender kiss to your lips.

“How are you feeling, my flower?” He murmured, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek with care. Your adoring eyes opened to look at him.

“R-really good, Master.” You mewled leaning your face into his hand. He only hummed in response, continuing to admire your body as it lies beneath his, it wasn’t an image he wanted to forget.

“You’re gonna cum one more time for me, okay?”

You nodded and felt your muscles being released from his hold on them. Without hesitation you bring your hands up to his face and kiss his jaw.

He pulled away with a small smile before placing a quick peck onto your lips. He pulled the waistband of his sweats down and discarded them. Through his briefs you could see his fully hardened length.

He slid them off and reached down to grab your ankles, quickly pulling you to the edge of the bed. Your opened legs were stretched back as he found his place between the,.

“You want this too, right, y/n?” He asked with sincerity dripping from his voice.

“Y-yes, yes fuck, I do.” Your hands reached for his arms as his hand guided his length to your slit.

“Goodness, you’re so pretty.” He moaned and abruptly pushing his length inside of you. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned graphically at the feeling of him completely filling you up.

His hips rocked against yours with fluidity as his hands gripped your hips with moans falling from his lips.

Your nails were digging into his forearms for some kind of stability and your brain had turned to mush from the constant pleasure you’ve been receiving. Weak moans of his name fell past your lips.

You whined at his arm leaving your reach but it quickly ceased as small circles were being rubbed on your clit by his thumb.

“I can feel how close you are-fuck.” He stumbled over his words.

He closed his eyes and let his head drop with his pace becoming sloppy, his thrusts were harsh and he was hitting just the right spot. Just like that you were seeing white, your hands gripping the sheets as you all but screamed his name.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl, flower.” He moaned and he moved to once more to bury his face in your neck, hips sputtering as he reached his peak.

He placed sweet kisses against your neck and slowly pulled out of you.

“I was kidding, about the Master thing, in front of the troopers. I quite like it in bed, though.” He gave a quick wink and picked you up off the bed with his arm tucked under your knees. “We have to shower and get to bed soon. We have business on the other side of the planet tomorrow and this time you’re not going to be behind some screen.”

“Hey, about earlier when you said ‘intimacy bonds people’, what did you mean exactly?” You mumbled as the water began running.

“For people like me, people who use a different kind of power, we can feed off of the things we’re passionate about.” He hummed, his hold on you was firm and unwavering. “Our intimacy not only bonds our minds, our energy, but it makes my powers grow stronger.”

“I guess I have a lot to learn to about you and you’re powers.” You gave a breathy laugh. “What does a stronger bond look like?”

“Imagine not having to ask me for anything again because I already heard the thought echo in your mind or beings moons away and still feeling my hand touch yours.” He was smiling, a real genuine smile. Your heart flutters at the sight.

“And that idea makes you feel happy?”

“More than you know, flower.” He pressed one last kiss your lips. “More than you know.”

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #inquisitor!cal #calquisitor #jfo #star wars #smut #part 5 #iris

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purplebunniboy · 3 years

Text

Retrograde Character Masterlist

I lied, here are all the characters. I’ll do in depth backstories later.

This probably isn't EVERY character but it's damn near close and just some basics about them that are totally subject to be altered or expanded upon later

---

Afton Family

Michael Frederick Afton/ Fritz Smith/ Mike Schmidt:

Thick curly brown hair, hazel green eyes, grey tshirt with rolled sleeves, tucked into jeans// scars along his face, torso, and arms

Born October 7th, 1969 to Sandra Schmidt and William Afton

The oldest of the Afton children

Loved baseball, got his first bat from Henry

Scar across his nose came from a fight, hand scars came from attempting to pry open Fredbear's mouth during the bite, arm scar came from encounter with the Nightmares, torso scar came from getting scooped, various other scars from animatronic encounters

Fox mask bully, Dayshift worker at Freddy Fazbear’s in 1987, Technician at Circus Baby’s Pizza World and Party Rentals, Nightshift Security Guard at Freddy Fazbear’s in 1998

William David Afton:

Shiny dark hair, soft blue eyes that turned grey the first time he “died”, well-groomed and cared about his looks

Father of Michael, Elizabeth, and Cassidy Afton; Spouse of Sandra Afton

Co-owner of Fredbear’s Family Dinner, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, Circus Baby’s Pizza World, Fazbear Robotics and Fazbear Entertainment inc.; Owner of Afton Robotics LLC

Cunning, charming, and extremely persuasive, could find out absolutely anything about anyone and use it against them to get what he wanted

Extremely theatrical and loved going over the top in performances,

Loved robotics and excelled at crafting learning AI, but could never perfect it how he wanted

Drove himself mad with the idea of immortality and legacy

Absolutely hated being called Billy

Did love his kids, at least originally, he’s only Somewhat a heartless monster, but there’s something still beating in that chest of his

Cassandra “Sandra” Bella Schmidt:

Denim jumpsuit, dyed blonde hair, hazel green eyes

Mother of Michael, Elizabeth, and Cassidy Afton. Spouse of William Afton

Was a Broadway actress but left her career behind to marry William and raise her family

Very soft-spoken, only confident when she was on a stage under the spotlight

Had a beautiful singing voice and would often sing her children to sleep, especially if they woke up from night terrors

Elizabeth “Lizzie” Rose Afton:

Dark strawberry blonde hair curled into tight ringlets and pulled back into two ponytails with red ribbon ties, bright green eyes, often wore a lot bright colors

Born May 12th, 1979. Died February 1986

The youngest of the Afton children

Suspected of being the product of an affair as her looks did not resemble her father’s

Did whatever it took to get her way and was very cunning about how she went about doing that

Liked to sing with her mother and was very musically inclined

Evan “Ev” Afton:

Thick brown curls that often fell in front of bright green eyes, white collared shirt a large black tshirt with two white stripes across the chest

Born October 31st, 1975. Bitten by Fredbear October 31st, 1983. “Died” November 5th, 1983

The middle child of the Afton children

Was never the best at communicating with others, complained a lot, fought with his brother constantly at home

After witnessing Charlie’s unaliving, became traumatized and cried all the time

Had a large collection of stuffed animals but was usually carrying around at least one of the Fazbear Plushies

---

Emily Family

Henry Emily

Shoulder length hair always swept or pulled back out of his face, dirty overalls, hands are never clean

Father of Charlotte and Samuel Emily. Spouse of Donna Emily

Treated all the robots the same way he did his own children

Caring and understanding but had a short temper and lacked patience, especially when under a lot of stress

Extremely talented in robotics, excelling in them from an early age. He could make anything look lifelike and real.

Preferred the comfort of his garage workshop over really showing his face

Donna Fitzgerald:

Big and poofy dark hair, dark eyes, high-waisted acid-wash jeans, pink wool turtleneck

Mother of Charlotte and Samuel Emily. Spouse of Henry Emily.

Strong-willed and very loud about her opinions on things.

Very supportive of Henry’s passion with robotics even if the whole topic gave her headaches when she attempted to wrap her brain around the concept

Charlotte “Charlie” Emily:

Denim overalls decorated with marker drawings of flowers, green striped tshirt, green wrist band, untamable brown hair pulled into two high pigtails

Born June 26th, 1978. Died April 5th, 1983

The younger of the Emily children

Extremely empathetic and caring, always went out of her way to care for children smaller than her, wanting them to feel loved and accepted

She was never afraid to get dirty, she always colored outside of the lines on purpose, she wanted to do the daring and unexpected.

Carried around a porcelain doll that was styled like a black and white jester

Her robotic counterpart was the spitting image of the real one

Robotic Charlie was much more sensitive and much more analytical of the world around her

Samuel “Sammy” Jeremy Emily/ Jeremy Fitzgerald:

Born June 24th, 1970. Bitten by Mangle October 7th, 1987

The older of the Emily children

He was always a very gifted child, excelling in mathematics from a very young age, but hit gifted kid burnout by the time he hit highschool

Never had much of an interest in robotics

Patient and gentle, he preferred to keep to himself and would often seek out quiet places he could be alone

Jennifer “Aunt Jen/Jenny” Emily:

Older sister of Henry Emily

Always had an interest in robotics and passed her skills on to her baby brother

Fiercely loyal to family she would do anything she could to protect them and keep them happy, especially Henry since he was the only family she really had left

She was strong-willed, even in her younger years, and able to hold her own very well

---

Before the Bite

Michelle “Mitchie” Peters:

Spiky short brown hair, green t shirt, blue boy shorts, green sweatbands

Bear mask bully

Older sister to Gabriel Peters

Died July 4th,1985

Michael’s closest childhood friend

A tomboy, closet case, and had a major superiority complex or at least pretended to have one

Called the Mama Bear of the group due to her caring deeply for her friends but aggressiveness towards everyone else

David “Davie” Kennedy:

Wavy black hair, red polo shirt with a popped collar, blue bunny mask

Bigger kid and designated meat shield of the group.

Willing to defend his friends to his dying breath.

Inside, he had a soft core. He was the one who would check on each of them, asking if they were ok and if they needed help. His soft core often got him teased by his friends but it never stopped him from wanting to make sure they were always safe

Bunny mask bully, Technician at Circus Baby’s Pizza World and Party Rentals

Christopher “Chris” Houghton:

Short curly dark hair, long sleeve blue shirt

Chicken mask bully

Never left the arcade, living that sweet gamer life

Liked to run his mouth and always needed to have the last word

Vanessa “Nessa/Ness” Abernathy

Dark hair, rainbow clip extensions, dark eyes

Born December 24th, 1970.

Knew Michael in school, had a crush on him, he was the first one to ever call her Ness and the only one she ever let call her that

Took a robotics class because of him and also got really into coding

Influenced by William and eventually taken completely under his control. She was his eyes and ears in the outside world. Talks to him through the Spring Bonnie plush when non-possessed

Poses as Mike’s therapist to keep an eye on him for William

Matthew “Matt” Griffiths

Older man though no one was sure how old he actually is or if he can even die, choppy hair, thick rimmed glasses

Phone guy

Dayshift worker/ Training Manager at Fredbear’s Family Diner, General Manager of the first Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria

Loyal to the company but also put his own well being and safety before anyone else’s

Would not stick his neck out for anybody on his own

Blunt and standoffish, sometimes considered rude though he was never rude to customers or kids

One of Afton’s first “puppets”

---

Party of 1985

Susan “Susie” Waylar:

Messy golden blonde curls, blue eyes, pink shirt, bedazzled jeans

Older sister of Samantha Waylar

Best friends with Gabriel Peters

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Chica

Extremely energetic and always told she should settle and be quieter like her sister

Despite being super messy, constantly having gunk in her hair and under her nails, she had an unnatural ability to always keep her dresses clean

Gabriel “Gabe” Peters:

Straight light brown hair, striped shirt beneath denim overalls, missing front tooth

Younger brother of Mitchie Peters

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Freddy Fazbear

Stood up for the smaller kids whenever possible

Energetic, never able to settle, and outgoing. Impossible to ever see him not smiling

He was clumsy and always getting hurt accidently.

Best friends with Susie Waylar

Cassidy “Dee-Dee” Richards:

Dark hair always pulled into two uneven pigtails, always wearing yellow

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Golden Freddy

Pulled a lot of pranks, some lighthearted, some not so much.

Threw tantrums to get what she wanted.

Always wanting to be first, always wanting to come out ahead, always

Jeremy Velasquez:

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Bonnie

A generally shy kid who’s loud and energetic around his friends

Started growing out of Freddy’s pretty early on

Susie felt bad for him and invited him to hang out with her and Gabe

Frederick “Fritz” Parker:

Messy auburn hair, pastel pink polo shirt

Died June 26th, 1985. Stuffed into Foxy

Aggressive and rude, rather abrasive and destructive

---

Party of 1987

Pete Dinglewood:

Brown hair, red letterman jacket, backwards baseball cap, prosthetic hand and glass eye after being hit by a car and barely surviving.

Died October 4th, 1987. Stuffed into Foxy

Older brother of Charles “Chuck” Dinglewood

Always sticking gum under the tables in the party rooms

Alec Wilkins:

Blonde curly rocker mullet, sci-fi movie shirt with cut off sleeves, braces

Died October 4th, 1987. Stuffed into Freddy

Older brother of Hazel Wilkins

Could be rude at times, always got himself into trouble and pinned with the “problem child” title

Toby Billings:

Fluffy brown hair, mullet, reminds Michael of Cass, pullover sweatshirt with an athletic team’s logo on the front, always putting stuff in his mouth

Died October 4th, 1987. Stuffed into Bonnie

Younger brother of Connor Billings

Wanted to have the highest scores in the arcade

Cracks his knuckles when he’s lying or when he’s nervous which most people will loudly say is gross and annoying

Millicent “Millie” Fitzsimmons:

Dyed black hair always teased and pinned on one side, always wears a lot of black and intense black makeup

Died October 4th, 1987, stuffed into Chica

Best friends with Alec

Lives alone with her grandfather, who is sometimes hired by Fazbear’s or Afton Robotics to fix any minor technical malfunctions with the animatronics

Was there during the grand opening event of Circuse Baby’s when Elizabeth was killed in 1986

---

Around Town

Connor Billings:

Brown hair, square face, very hyper and always laughing even if the joke isn’t funny

Phone dude

Older brother of Toby Billings

Became obsessed with the mysteries of the place after looking into the 1987 deaths more

Collected old remnants of the closed down restaurants.

Hired by Henry to find the stuff still haunted to put into Fazbear’s Frights, no questions asked

Lowkey scared of Michael saying, quote, “the guy just gives me bad vibes”

Samantha Waylar:

Older sister of Susie Waylar

Quieter, though who’s to say that equals maturity

Preferred to keep to herself and her books

She knew how to stand up for herself and was actually better at telling kids off than her sister was

Swear she loved Oliver more

Stanley Martinez:

Technician at Circus Baby’s Pizza World and Party Rentals

Was into tech most of his life.

Known to be a generally kind man, putting others and their well being before himself

He was never one to snoop around and would prefer staying out of other’s business

Clayton “Clay” Burke:

Father of Carlton Burke. Spouse of Betty Burke

Chief of police. Was a detective when the 5 murders happened, worked on the case.

Though he is at times a little air headed, he is very caring of those around him

Carlton Burke:

Ginger hair, dark clothing

Only son of Carlton and Betty Burke

Childhood friends of Charlie, John, and Jessica

Always the kind to crack jokes when the mood was down and laugh in the face of danger.

Art and theatre kid

John Aowyn:

Messy brown hair, white shirt, brown leather jacket

Childhood friend of Charlie, John and Carlton. Had a crush on Charlie

He was a writer and constantly lost in his own fantasy world that sometimes it was hard to pull him out of

Jessica Sinclair:

Shiny light brown hair, brown doe-eyes, always clean cut, fashionable clothing, contagious smile

Childhood friend of Charlie, John and Carlton

Fiercely loyal to her friends, and would do anything to protect them. She hated seeing them sad or hurt and was always there with bandaids and snacks the moment they needed her

Very perceptive and smart, she had a love of forensics and her friends would often put on mystery hunts just for her

Leslie Dunn:

Round face, light hair, police uniform

Police officer/ Detective

A bit blunt at times though not with the intention of being rude

A bit awkward at times

Jack Flores:

Younger man, greasy hair, bright eyes

Nightshift Security Guard at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria

Overly curious, couldn’t keep his nose out of other’s business

#retrogradeau #fnaf #fnafau #michael afton #five nights at freddy's

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Yay requests open! If you don't mind was wondering could I request prince Dabi claiming a beloved prince of an invaded kingdom as his prize

You guys really do like your Todorokis and overdone metaphors, don’t you? I can’t say I’m much better, but I might as well have a little fun while I’m at it. Dabi’s not exactly the poetic type, though…

TW: Slight Dehumanization, Slight Violence, and Abuse of Power.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d played a little too far into your role. Your tribe was nomadic, sure, following flock migrations and moving whenever survival deemed it necessary, but war paint seemed like a little much. The look wasn’t helped by the cape of feathers that’d been draped over your shoulders and the leather plating weighing down on your chest, making it harder to breathe the longer you were stuck in that costume. It felt wrong, unnatural, too much to be anything but see-through.

But, you were lucky. Dabi and his clan were just as theatrical as your little get-up.

Your imprisonment was as swift as it was sudden. One moment you were in the chief’s tent, preparing for the oncoming invasion, and the next you were being dragged out of your home and into a circle of soldiers, hands tied behind your back and legs in shackles, the chain between your ankles just long enough to allow you a few stuttered steps. Although you’d never seen the man, you could identify Dabi the moment you saw him. Scars from head to toe, burning blue eyes, hair as dark as soiled ash..

You couldn’t have asked for a better monster to face, even if you’d wanted to.

“Is this it?” He asked, as soon as you were in front of him. His underlings released you, remaining an arm’s length or so away, but there was no need for the insurance. You were frozen the moment his eyes met yours. “You’re hardly the great leader our communications made you out to be. A couple heads too short, if you know what I mean. Is that why our lion felt the need to bare its claws early on?”

The crowd jeered, both in laughter and insult, and you went stiff, holding yourself a little taller. “I never claimed to be a lion,” You started, pushing your shoulders forward defensively. “Maybe you were just startled, General. Not all of us can recognize a housecat’s shadow at first glance.”

You expected his smile to fall, for your comment to be met with pain much harsher than anything words could inflict, but Dabi’s smirk only seemed to broaden at the small show of resistance. You hadn’t been sure what to expect from Shigaraki’s make-shift country, if you were being honest. They were a collection of villains, of thieves and murderers and brutes only looking after their own survival, but you supposed Dabi made a good face for that sort of chaos. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, a medal hanging from his waist being the only display of his rank, but he held himself as if he was. The sheer amount of confidence that radiated from him was enough to make standing your ground difficult, the options of trembling and running becoming more and more tempting as he took a step forward, then another, until the space between you was all-but closed.

“You know why I’m here, don’t you?” The question was simple on its own, but there was a mocking undertone. Anger melded with your fear, forming something much darker than either emotion could ever hope to achieve. “Your little pride made itself at home in a territory claimed by my master, and refused to pay the justified price we asked to smooth-over such an intrusion. Tender warnings never go far with beasts so feral.”

“Oh, so I should’ve been more forceful while explaining our customs?” You didn’t try to mask the venom in your voice. Why would you? More frustration on Dabi’s part would only mean a faster death on yours. “We move for the seasons, nothing else. No force on the part of you or the gods could possibly change our path. No one is harmed by our actions. Your ‘master’ is simply too paranoid that someone will try to play with his toys, and you happen to be the idiot he sent to guard them.”

Dabi grinned, baring his teeth. “You little bitch--”

He was cut off by two figures breaking through the circle, a shorter girl just as malicious as the boy in front of you and an unremarkable man, the expression painted across his face nothing short of anxious. She didn’t waste time, not seeming to fear the consequences of her announcement. “There’s no one here,” She said, plainly, not particularly interested in the statement. “Not a soul. The whole village’s empty, and there aren’t any tracks, either. It’s as abandoned as they come.”

Dabi’s attention snapped towards you, but you were lunging before he could act. It wasn’t hard to retrieve the dagger strapped to the inside of your cloak, the weapon ripped free in a matter of seconds, your bonds cut through in the blink of an eye. You weren’t a warrior, you weren’t strong, but you didn’t have to be. He was standing so close, so unarmed, all you had to do was find his heart and carve--

You were on the ground in an instant, rocks and gravel digging into your cheek. A firm hand pressed into the small of your back, your knife in its twin, the edge of the blade ghosting against your neck. His hold was crushing, heavy and suffocating, but his silence was more oppressive than the humiliation could ever be. Fortunately, it was broken as quickly as it’d been brought on. “Where are your people?” He snarled, bringing the dagger a little closer when you failed to answer. “I shouldn’t have to repeat myself. Tell me, and I might think about sparing your miserable life.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if the sound was muffled by your own grit teeth. “They’re gone. I’m the only person you’ll find within a day’s travel. Everyone else is somewhere safe where you’ll never find.”

“Damnit.” The curse was mumbled, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. Still, you let yourself relax. His failure could only mean wonderful things for your tribe. “Who are you, then? An honorable hero who refused to run? The self-sacrificing heir?”

“The self-sacrificing heir’s younger sibling,” You corrected. “My father decided he loved his second-born less.”

You expected a retort, but Dabi only let out a breathy laugh, sitting up and pulling the knife away from your throat. He addressed his men with the same authoritative facade he carried with him, as if it’d never slipped out of place. “Check the tents for supplies, then burn whatever isn’t useful. I don’t want to see anything but a cloud of smoke by the time we leave.” Holding your breath, you waited for Dabi to release you or kill you or do something, but the blow never came. Instead, thin fingers tangled themselves in your hair, jerking your head to the side and forcing you to meet those terrible, fiery, predatory eyes.

“Make it quick, too. I’ve got a new kitty to train.”

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

Death Do We Part (Part 13)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Words: 4,300+

Jason kisses you again, holding on to your face, and then grudgingly lets you go. He lies on the couch with his hand draped over his eyes as you gather your clothes and get dressed. You kneel beside his head and say his name.

“I can’t, Y/N-- If I see you, I won’t have it in me to let you walk out of here.”

So you kiss his cheeks with quivering lips and your tears warm his skin before you leave the Todds’ old apartment.

Jason’s whole body flinches at the sound of the door closing. He lets his own tears mix with the ones you left. Then he harshly rubs them away as he sits up to face the sun that’s slowly peeking over the cityscape from his window.

He takes in three deep breaths before he finally gets up and puts on his clothes, leaving the stench of Gotham on his skin along with the scent of you. It’s armor he tells himself. With you on his side he knows he can’t fail.

He takes out his phone and dials. He puts it on speaker and places it on the counter to pack his gear. The moment the ringing stops, he speaks first, “I want everybody in the bunker. Now.”

There’s a slight groan and hint of annoyance from the other side, “You can’t be--”

“Don’t make me wait.”

Jason hangs up. When its lights turn off, he can see his reflection on the black screen of his phone. His white bangs are hanging down, half covering his glowing green eyes. He touches the skin under them and wonders if you noticed. Did it scare you? As he looks into his mutated eyes watching himself, he snarls.

“Focus!”

There’s far too much at stake tonight to be daydreaming now. The sooner he finishes this mission, the sooner you can leave this town. Jason takes one last look at his phone before he leaves their old apartment.

He’s the first one at the bunker in the Arkham district and proceeds to check on the armory in the backroom. He puts on his domino mask and then his helmet. Then breathes in to give his mind and body time to adjust to his other role, his other identity.

When he gets back to the main room, there’s a couple of thugs spread out on the floor and some of the big players sitting at the big table in the middle.

“What’s the big idea calling us in so early in the morning? Most of us work nights you know!” Penguin’s nasally voice is already giving Jason a headache.

I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here!

Jason clams his mouth shut inside his helmet and walks up to the table.

“Are you listening to me-- or is that blasted thing on mute--”

He slams his hands on the table and waits for the echo to stop, making sure all eyes are on him. “We’re doing it tonight.”

He watches as the big crime lords of Gotham widen their eyes and turn to each other like shoolchildren.

“Tonight? Are you fucking kidding me?” Black Mask is standing now and circling the table to act like a menace but always making sure there’s somebody else between him and the Red Hood.

“Are your men not ready?” Jason asks.

Black Masks flinches and the sides of his nose twitch. “Of-of course they are--”

“Good. Because we’re taking out Batman and the Joker tonight. If you’re not ready then you’re out of the deal.”

The deal. The deal Jason’s been waving around at the noses of these dredges of Gotham City. One night. One final night to get both Batman and the Joker out of their lives.

It’s not surprising a lot of them want to get rid of the Joker. The maniac’s a loose canon that’s not fit for any alliance and if you tick him off, you won’t know what to expect.

“Have you figured out how to get the lunatic out of the asylum?” Dent speaks up from the wall he’s been leaning against. “The new vault is Wayne tech but they outsourced it from an anonymous--”

“Oh, I never said anything about me breaking him out.” Jason cuts him off because he already knows this. He doesn’t like it when people repeat shit he already knows. It was never like this when he worked with Batman. “Don’t you worry your pretty faces over it. I’ve already got the perfect girl doing the dirty work for me.”

“Right,” Penguin snorts, “Because you don’t actually do any work--”

“When do we get to kill the Bat?” Bane’s menacing voice vibrates within the room, even terrifying Jason behind his mask.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he yells out almost shakily, but your scent on him is trapped inside his helmet and it’s helping him keep calm, keep up appearances. “You, Killer Croc, and Clayface will come with me to the bridge.”

“How do you know he’ll show?” Bane interrupts and Jason wants to show them a smile that says ‘leave it to me’. Instead he keeps quiet with his eyes on Bane who only narrows his eyes with scrutiny.

“Right. Right. Of course,” Black Mask groans as he walks around more freely. “You’ve got another slutty little streetrat doing the work--”

There’s a loud bang. Everyone in the room watches as Black Mask falls to the floor with a smoking hole in his head. Jason is heaving heavy breaths under his helmet and his eyes are wide and trained on the dead man who just said shit about you, while his hand is holding the gun.

Once his composure is under control, he turns to Dent, talking to him with the gun slanted to the side. “Congratulations. His men are now yours.”

Dent stares at the crazy bastard in front of him before he grins.

As soon as the meeting is over, Jason is the first one to leave. He heads off to a small diner in the central business district, one of those small eateries at the heart of the city that are slowly dying.

Happy to have the helmet off of him, he eats his food quietly while staring at his arm that’s propped up on the table. His last words looking back at him. “What did she do-- tattoo it on her skin?” he teases as he pokes it with a fork, smiling at the thought of you reading it over and over again.

Someone slips into his booth. It’s enough to alarm Jason because he should’ve noticed anyone walking toward him. When he looks up, he finds his replacement in front of him.

“Dick rewrites it every day with industrial-strength markers.”

Jason’s other hand reaches for another weapon concealed in his jacket. Tim sits upright in front of him with both of his hands under the table. Jason only guesses he’s pointing something at him, too. They stare at each other for a while before Tim finally speaks up.

“Fuck you.”

The corner of Jason’s lips twitch. He almost wants to laugh. Heck, he does laugh. “Fucking rude--”

“You slept with Y/N and then you sent her back to Bruce to ask him to let you kill the Joker.”

Jason’s eyes widen. What were you thinking? Jason knew you were going to tell Bruce his plan that’s why they had to do it tonight. But he never asked you to stand up for him. He doesn’t want you to be involved in this. Why would you go and do that?

Tim clenches his teeth as Jason continues to stare dumbly at him. “What kind of sick joke are you playing at? She’s in love you with you and you’re--”

“Hey.” Jason’s voice is low and he’s staring into Tim’s eyes, blue like his, almost like his used to be. Did you gaze into them before you kissed him? Did they remind you of him? “You should learn to mind your own fucking business, kid.”

“You--”

“Thanks though.”

Tim eyes Jason curiously, wondering what he means. Then he feels it, the kick of a tranquilizer rapidly invading the nerves of his body. Before his head hits the table, Jason is already by his side and placing his head on his shoulder.

“You should’ve waited for the party but I guess you just saved me a lot of time.” Jason nods his head to the waitress walking by. Then he takes out his phone and calls Penguin.

“What is it now, Hood?”

“You should be happy to know that I just did some dirty work ahead of schedule.” Jason relishes the angry snort Penguin gives him before he continues. “So I’ll be helping you with the bombs later this afternoon.”

There’s a long silence on the line before Penguin finally replies, nervous. “Are you sure this will work?”

“Trust me. After tonight, when those bombs go off, you’ll be the only kingpin left in this city. No more Falcone or Dent.”

After Jason hangs up, he pays the bill for his food and drapes his jacket over Tim, making sure his face is hidden as he hauls his body over to Arkham district.

Finally, night came. Tim is tied up. The bombs are in place. The Joker is being broken out. And Batman is driving over the bridge. Jason is fighting every urge to tap his foot on the ground, or clench his fist, or rub his arm where his last words are written.

All day he’s had to fight the urge to write to you, something you haven’t done in almost a year. But the fact that you haven’t written anything to him made it easier. You understand that everything is going down tonight and you’re giving him space.

Now all he has to do is focus. Everything will go according to plan. It’s time for the theatrics, just like Batman taught him.

“Sorry, Batman! This part of the city’s closed for the day! Public execution and all!” Jason is surrounded by cheering thugs finally rejoicing at the thought of a Bat and Joker-free city. Everything will be theirs for the taking.

Jason watches his temporary alliance follow through with the plan. He whistles as Bane lands on the bridge. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”

“Time for your exit, boy,” Killer Croc hisses as he passes by Jason.

Jason sees no point in talking back. He presses the button for the EMP and waits for the lights of the batmobile to go out. Then he nods to Croc and Clayface and disappears into the crowd. Once out of the frontline’s range, he uses his grappling gun to reach higher ground.

“Still bait. Need to make sure they see me.”

Jason hides among the shadows to watch Bruce and Dick work. Bane’s the first one to go down. “Taking down the biggest threat first. Efficient and predictable, Bruce.”

“Hoody! You double crossing son of a bitch!” One of the most annoying voices Jason has ever heard screeches into the comm in his ear. But it’s not really Harley he hates, it’s the other guy that always comes with her presence.

“What? Code didn’t work?”

“Oh it worked alright, you smarty shit helmet. I finally got mista J out of that stinkin place but guess who was waiting for us, huh? Guess!”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“You--”

Jason hangs up on Harley because he knows. He asked his friends from Eth Alth'eban for a couple of last favors until they can finally call it even. “Good. The appetizer’s already at the club-- Oh! Time to go.”

Nightwing had spotted him and now Batman is in pursuit. Jason leaps from one rooftop to another, making sure Batman can still see him as he turns at each corner.

Clayface and Croc never were much of a threat in an open space, away from their element. Dick could handle them with his eyes closed. But Jason busted some of his ribs so dealing with those two should keep him occupied all night.

The sound of Bruce’s grappling gun hisses in the air and Jason waits for it to wrap around his legs. Before it tauts, Jason turns mid-air and cuts the line before he free falls to the road. He lands on his feet and rolls over to lessen the impact. He whispers a small apology to you in case your body couldn’t handle it.

Bruce watches Jason run through the streets and follows from above. Jason can see his swift shadow casted by the foggy moonlight. He suddenly can’t help the stupid grin growing on his face. “Feels like old times, old man!”

When Bruce sees another bridge, he already knows which building the Red Hood is headed for. Batman perches a block away and tries to contact Nightwing.

“Status report.”

Dick nervously laughs. Bruce can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “Seriously dandy. Croc and Clayface almost can’t keep up.”

Bruce can’t see it but you can. Dick is barely standing on his own two legs, busted knees, exhaustion, and you know he’s emotionally overwhelmed. You’ve monitored enough of their videos to know that Dick isn’t at his best. You suddenly can’t help intervening.

“Bruce, turn back. You have to help Dick.”

“I’m fine,” Dick interjects. “Just get Jason.”

“Jason’s not the one in trouble right now, Dick--”

“Y/N.” Dick’s voice has suddenly gotten sharp. “Batman needs to make it this time.”

Your eyes widen as you watch Dick throw himself back into the fight. He’s exhausted but his opponents are in worse shape. Finally resigned, Alfred wraps his arms around your shoulder, bracing yourselves for what’s next.

As soon as Jason walks into Black Mask’s new club, he’s met with absolutely no one. He quickly prioritizes before he panics and checks the two large boxes on the dance floor.

A phone starts ringing loudly inside the deserted club, distracting him from the cape that flies in from the overhead window. Jason answers it and he hears Penguin’s unmistakeable nasally voice.

“Hello, Hood.”

Jason grits his teeth. Something isn’t right. “Where are you and Dent?”

“Sorry, Hood,” he snorts and chuckles. “We knew something was up. Found the bombs you snuck into my place. So you’re on your own.” He can hear boisterous laughter in the background and loud music. They’re celebrating prematurely at Penguin’s club. “But hey, if you manage to take the Joker and Batman to hell with you, good for us!”

The dial tone fills up the empty club and it feels like it’s getting louder inside Jason’s head. He yells in frustration and throws the phone against the wall.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Jason is bent over, hands on his knees and hyperventilating. The helmet is suddenly suffocating. He takes it off and throws it across the dance floor. Batman stops it with his foot, making Jason look up and glare at him.

“Looks like you’ve run out of criminals to do the dirty work for you.” Batman’s voice brings Jason’s focus back to his own breathing. Things are not going according to plan but just the thought of putting this off for another day, makes his hands tremble. He wants to leave. He wants to run to you and leave this godforsaken city.

Bruce looks at his son with nothing but worry. He extends a hand to him. “Jason, it’s time to stop.”

Jason winces. He takes in one loud inhale and then lets it out in the form of boooming laughter. “Oh, but it’s just begun, and we’re so close to the climax already.”

Like a child lashing out when everything has gone wrong, Jason runs and jumps at Bruce, a fist aimed at the side of his father’s head. It’s sloppy. Easy enough for Bruce to block and secure Jason in front of him.

“Let’s go home,” he urges.

Bruce watches the trembling scowl on Jason’s face. Jason kicks off of Bruce’s chest. When he lands on his feet, he runs at him again to kick his side.

Bruce catches his leg and firmly holds it against his body using both of his hands. He glares at him, “Jason, stop!”

Jason snarls and punches the side of Bruce’s face. Then another one against the tip of his nose. Bruce immediately lets go of him, holding his nose while ringing permeated in his eardrums.

When he brings his hands down, there’s blood. “Jason, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s too bad, pops.”

You have been too mesmerized by the one-sided battle between Bruce and Jason, that you forgot to watch Nightwing’s feed. When Alfred and your face are kissed by a bright glow coming from the other side of the screen, your eyes widen and your lips tremble.

“B-Bruce!” your voice echoes in his earpiece and he can already hear the panic. “The br-bridge! Dick was on the bridge and it just blew up!”

Jason notices the slight change in Bruce’s demeanor. He watches cautiously when his father clenches his fist and looks at Jason with a snarl. He starts walking toward Jason, letting him hear his every word.

“Forgive me, Y/N.”

And you brace yourself for the onslaught of pain that’s sure to come. You close your eyes and bury your head in Alfred’s embrace. He holds you tightly, both of you dreading and waiting. But the pain never comes.

You open your eyes and turn back to the monitor. Bruce is standing still in front of Jason with a fist just inches away from his son’s face. Jason’s eyes slowly open.

“I can’t,” Bruce confesses in a trembling voice.

Jason frowns as he watches the resignation on his father’s face. But it’s quickly replaced by a scowl as he remembers, remembers why they’re here. “I should be so flattered,” his voice hits Bruce like a blow to the chest. “Too bad you extend this same mercy to your enemies.”

Jason walks away from Bruce to stop in front of one of the boxes. He kicks it in and then he drags out a tied up orange clown into the middle of the club.

“To scumbags like him!”

The Joker shakes his head, trying to get rid of the sudden disorientation. He had been hearing their family drama from within the crate. But when his eyes settle on the black cowl and pointy ears, he grins and rises to his feet. He takes a quick look at Jason and recognizes him immediately.

“Oh! Is this my welcome back party? I’m underdressed.” The Joker looks down at his clothes from Arkham and winces. “Orange really isn’t my color. Blegh!”

His care-free attitude is only making Jason angrier. Everything has gone wrong. He has thrown himself against Bruce and almost got you hurt. And now, now the clown is treating all of this like a fucking party.

Jason kicks the Joker onto the floor and keeps his foot on his back. He keeps his head down as he snarls at the maniac beneath him.

“I don’t know what clouded your judgment worse…” His foot presses harder on the clown’s back before he looks at Bruce, glaring. “Your guilt or antiquated sense of morality.”

You watch with your hand over your mouth. Jason’s breathing has been labored this whole time and you don’t know if it’s because of all the running or the emotional toll of it all.

Jason looks at Bruce and he sounds broken, “I forgive you for not saving me--”

The Joker scoffs and nonchalantly interrupts Jason, “He couldn’t have saved you, boy. The timer was a dud. The warehouse was only rigged to explode once Batman stepped onto the property.”

Batman’s eyes widen with guilt but Jason already knew that. He knew that Bruce had come for him with 10 seconds to spare on the timer. More than enough time to get him and his mother out of there safely. To save you, too.

The Joker’s eyes widen with glee as he watches the taut lines on Batman’s exposed jaw. “You didn’t know, Batsy? My my!”

Jason almost feels sorry for Bruce as he desperately looks at his son’s eyes and then to his hands, thinking he was the one who had killed him. Jason puts more pressure on the Joker’s back and shouts, “Do you see?”

Jason takes off his mask to stare Bruce in the face, to look him in the eye when he finally asks the one question that has been eating at him alive. “So why! Why on god’s earth is this psychotic filth still alive?”

Jason’s outrage and their father-son confrontation is only making the Joker laugh in amusement, splintering his lips against the hardwood. “Gotta give the boy points! He came all the way back from the dead--”

Jason harshly turns him over and slaps a gag into his mouth, pushing it down and ties it until the Joker is choking.

More aggravated now, he’s heaving in breaths like he’s running out of air. Jason turns back to Bruce, gritting his teeth. “Ignoring what he’s done in the past. Blindly stupidly disregarding the entire graveyards he’s filled. The thousands who have suffered. The friends he’s crippled--!”

Jason watches as Bruce’s jaw clenches. They never talked about that. After that night, even when Barbara was released from the hospital, the family completely turned their backs on her, willing that the incidents never happened.

The memory only makes Jason’s blood boil and his heart clench in his chest. It’s so strong that you can feel it.

“I thought… I thought I’d be the last person you’ll ever let him hurt. If it had been you that he beat to a bloody pulp. If he had taken you from this world--” Jason pauses, surprised at the tear falling from his eye. He knows it’s not his but this has never happened before. You’ve never shared tears before.

Jason clenches his fist and yells at Bruce again, “I would have done nothing but search the planet for this pathetic pile of evil death-worshipping garbage and sent him off to hell!”

Bruce’s head is spinning. He sees the man he despises the most in this world and the boy he’s failed, both in life and in death.

“Jason... All I’ve ever wanted to do is kill him. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think about subjecting him to every horrendous torture he’s dealt out to others. And then… end him.”

Bruce’s confession doesn’t appease anything in Jason. It only confuses him more.

“So why--”

“But if I do that…” Bruce gently interjects, “If I allow myself to go down into that place… I’ll never come back.” He takes a few steps forward and extends his hand to Jason with his palm facing up. “You’ll never come back, son.”

Jason stares at the hand extended to him before he finally snarls at his father. “Why?” he sounds like a child, broken and betrayed, “I’m not talking about killing Penguin or Scarecrow or Dent. I’m talking about him. Just him and doing it because… because he took me away from you.”

Bruce watches as Jason harshly wipes away the tears that keep coming. Jason doesn’t get mad at you. He doesn’t blame you. If he wanted to, he would let out everything as well. He almost wishes he could when Bruce finally answers him.

“I can’t, Jason. I’m sorry.”

You feel Jason’s nails dig into his palms. You watch as he narrows his eyes at Bruce and points the gun at the Joker.

“Well you won’t have a choice.”

Jason shoots the Joker in the head. The sound echoes in the silent club while Bruce stands still as the Joker’s body goes limp on the floor.

You watch as the mad clown who terrorized your dreams for over a year lies on the ground, unmoving and staining the floor with his blood. Dead. But you don’t feel a single drop of satisfaction from it as you follow the trail of smoke coming out of Jason’s gun.

“You don’t understand, Bruce,” he finally says. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand until someone spells it out plain and simple for you.”

Bruce takes a step forward with his hands up but Jason’s points the gun at him next. “You can’t protect us-- much like you can’t protect this city from every disgusting dredge that lurks at its every corner. Ra’s and your failure taught me one thing true about this world: it’s better to grab evil by the tendrils and burn it before it settles its roots.”

It feels like a hammering is slamming down on Jason’s chest. The exhaustion. The emotions. Finally everything is so close to its breaking point. You can feel it.

“This is what all this has been about, Bruce. This scum,” he kicks the Joker’s body, making it skid away, leaving a trail of his blood. Then he points the gun at Bruce and places his free hand on his chest. “You. Me. And him!”

Jason kicks open the other box in the club and harshly rips out a struggling Robin. Tim is tightly gagged and his eyes are wide open.

“Tim!”

You don’t know who shouted. You or Bruce. You watch as he struggles against Jason’s grip. He tightens his hold on Tim and presses him against one side of his body to prop him up for Bruce to see him in full view.

“Now is the time you decide.”

Jason throws the gun to Bruce, the one he used on the Joker. “If you won’t, I’ll kill him. If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to kill me.”

Bruce stares at Tim’s wide eyes and then at the gun in his hands. Tim is fiercely struggling against the Red Hood’s hold. The Red Hood. Jason. He looks at his once dead son and sees unfamiliar green eyes looking back at him. His answer comes softly with regret.

“You know I won’t--”

This only makes Jason angrier. He takes out another gun and points it at Tim’s temple, startling all of you.

“It’s him or me--”

“Stop!” You shout from the safehouse, suddenly standing and urgently looking for anything to write with, not wanting to watch anymore. But you can still hear him.

“You have to decide--”

Your soulmate.

“Think about Y/N!” Bruce shouts, making you stop and stare at your hands, a pen hovering over Jason’s last words.

Jason’s grip falters. Of course, he’s thinking of you. Every single minute of every single day, all he’s done is think of you. All of the things he’s done is for you. You and him. That’s why he has to do this.

His voice comes out like a low growl. “Decide now... Do it.”

Bruce is shaking his head and holding the gun with both of his hands, shaking. Jason glares at him and pushes the barrel of the gun harder against Tim’s temple.

“Him or me! Decide!”

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#...#ssa #superhero soulmate au #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd imagine #Jason Todd x reader #Red Hood fanfiction #Red Hood imagine #Red Hood x reader #DC imagines #DC fanfiction #DC reader insert #watchtower-feed #atbucud

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teamfilmio · 3 years

Text

Fostering Inclusion in the Film Industry

To say that Hollywood is behind with inclusiveness isn’t just becoming more commonly evident—it’s a mathematical certainty.

While NPR reports that half of the US population identify as female and nearly 40% of Americans identify as being part of an underrepresented racial or ethnic group, the representation of them on-screen doesn’t match. According to the renowned Annenberg Foundation, only 14% of the top 100 grossing films in 2019 had a gender-balanced cast, and only 17% of all the movies released in that year (about 1,300) depicted a lead or co-lead from an underrepresented racial or ethnic group.

Advances in gender equality in film industry culture have been made too, especially recently.

For example, Statista reports the number of female leads in movies nearly doubled from 2011 to 2020 to near equivalence. Similarly, NPR states that women and people of color made progress in many job categories in 2020.

The established movie industry is also trying, at least outwardly, to address inclusivity issues in a serious, formal way with new representation standards. However, the chasm between the Hollywood ideal and reality is at least as vast as the one Thelma and Louise drove their car into instead of giving up to the authorities treating them unjustly.

But the improving numbers of women portrayed on screen, even as leads, mask even deeper equality in movies issues rooted in Hollywood’s patriarchal culture concerning how women are represented in the roles they play on-screen. According to the New York Film Academy (NYFA), barely 30% of women’s roles are speaking ones. Also, women are three times more likely than men to be shown in sexually revealing clothes or be shown partially nude.

Lack of racial diversity among women’s roles shows an even deeper rot, with only 10% of women in leading roles representing racial minorities.

Of course, movies aren’t just about money or even enjoyment. They can influence our lives greatly by defining normative culture—so the level of representation of women and minorities in movies must come closer to who actually makes up our societies.

How Inequality in Movies Involves Us All, No Matter the Part We Play

Lack of inclusion extends to everyone in the film industry, even fans.

Representations of fans often don’t match what’s on the screen, considering that minority audiences accounted for the most ticket purchases for films with a theatrical release in 2020. What the wider audience is looking for doesn’t mesh with the reality on screen, either. According to NPR, films with 41-50% minority casts performed well financially, while 11% minority cast films did the worst.

For creators, the scene has been especially dismal for gender equality. According to the Annenberg Foundation, only 19% of directors, writers, and producers of 2015’s top‐grossing films were women.

Now Cue the Rise of Blockchain in the Entertainment Industry

The ideals of those who want to democratize the film industry quite closely parallel the ideals of those who value blockchain, specifically decentralized finance (DeFi) blockchain. DeFi is all about democracy and inclusion in the way anyone with an internet connection can participate in it. It’s also about those principles in the way its defining focus is on consensus through transaction validation. More than ever, stakeholders want transparency to see inside what and how movies are made, and DeFi is all about transparency, with all transactions and governance out in the open.

To these ideals, some innovators in the film and blockchain movie industry space, such as Film.io, aren’t just paralleling shifts in culture and society, but they’re also shifting new paradigms into the highest gear possible for all stakeholders. And they’re achieving the ideals of DeFi blockchain in the process.

Film.io Taking Center Stage in Recasting the Whole Film Industry

While those in the established film industry try to fix a broken system, Film.io has developed a system that was never broken in the first place.

Indeed, the same stakeholder roles facing lack of inclusion that aren’t involved with blockchain film financing do find inclusion with Film.io: Empowering Fans

The fans of films made through Film.io aren’t just objects of market research to determine if a movie should be made, which is what happens now. In fact, fans shouldn’t just be presented with what marketing samples and Hollywood execs say are the films they want to see.

With Film.io, the fans themselves greenlight what movies are made.

If fans don’t want to support a particular director or film idea, why should they? Instead, they can finally support only the ones they want to, no matter what gender, race, or ethnicity may be involved.

What’s more, the roles a fan can play with Film.io extend beyond the norm and happen all in one community-powered place, whether as an advocate, influencer, viewer, evaluator, curator, donator, reviewer, subscriber, staker—or all of them.

Liberating Creators

Moviemakers and directors no longer have to represent the highest level of inequality in movies. They can be who they are and not be subject to racist and genderist Hollywood practices. And they can have whoever they want—and whoever their fans wish to—to perform in and direct their films.

Overall, creators can make movies they know their fans will like because the fans directed them to do so. If a creator of a film on Film.io succeeds or not, it’s not due to any antiquated Hollywood hoodoo of gender- or race-related bias but rather her own merits as a filmmaker—and nothing more.

As if all that weren’t democratizing enough, Film.io’s movie crowdfunding platform provides a stellar spot for fan-creator interaction, no doubt reinforced by a more extraordinary shared experience and even economic connection as it pioneers blockchain financing of film for everyone.

With Film.io, soon it won’t be strange to see anyone take part in what you watch in ways you’ve never seen before.

#crowdfunding a film #movie crowdfunding #short film crowdfunding #best film crowdfunding sites #movie token #movie crowdfunding platform #best film crowdfunding campaigns #decentralized film financing #movie coin

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mysterioh · 4 years

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The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 8

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

Synopsis: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

The Language of the Arts

This is awkward.

“So,” you spoke up, eyes strictly focused on the painting in front of you, hating the silence standing in between. “Nice weather we’re having."

"Yeah,” Steve said, his voice was stiff with a hint of nervousness. “Really cold."

"You like winter?"

"No, not really.”

“I do,” you said, folding your hands behind your back and tiptoeing up and down. “It’s a great time to do cozy things, y'know? Like watching movies and drinking hot cocoa."

"I guess it’s nice if you think of it that way,” he shrugged with a small smile. “I usually just think of how cold and dark it is."

"I like that too, to be honest,” you replied. “I don’t know why, but I just do."

"All the more reason to do cozy things I suppose?” he chuckled in your direction.

You turn to him and smile. “Yeah, I guess so."

His gaze lingers for a while before he snaps his head back towards the painting like he forgot he wasn’t supposed to be staring. Your smile falters a bit and it’s kind of annoying how different he’s acting. You liked the obnoxious version of him more.

"So, uh,” he clears his throat, “how ya been?"

"Good,” you nodded. “You?"

He shrugged. Miserable "I’m fine,” he replied. “How’s your boyfriend?” He asked, straining to sound nice.

“Oh, he’s fine,” you said.

It’s awkward again and neither of you knows what to do. He just had to be there when you had to be there. In a city of over two million, the odds of meeting the same stranger more than once were less than likely and yet you’ve met this oaf far more times than you needed to. The universe was scheming something.

“Another art project?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t."

"Your hatred for art is something I’ll never understand,” he shook his head.

“People like different things. I don’t like art, deal with it,” you jabbed.

Steve puts his hands up in defense. “I’m just saying. It’s just, I don’t know – when I see something like this there’s this bubbly feeling I get on the inside. And it just doesn’t make sense to me that someone can’t see it the way I do."

"I know how you feel,” you said. “But with science."

Steve’s shoulders drop. "But science is boring."

"It is not!” You retorted then sighed. “I guess someone as simple-minded as you wouldn’t get it,” you shake your head.

“Or maybe someone as close-minded as you wouldn’t understand where I’m coming from,” he snapped back playfully.

“I am not close-minded!"

"Yes, you are,” Steve said. “You don’t actually try to connect with the art. You’re just trying to get an A. Maybe if you open your mind a bit and really let the art speak to you, you’ll appreciate it more and even get a better grade."

"Are you trying to tell me I’m stupid?"

"Not in the least,” he said with a chuckle coloring his words. “You’re probably really smart, smarter than me. All I’m trying to say is that maybe you should try stepping out of your comfort zone? Try something you don’t like or want to do. You never know you might actually like it."

He gives you a charmingly crooked smile as he urges you to try it. You pry away from his gaze with a huff. He hit the mark when he said you needed to get out of your comfort zone, but he didn’t need to call you out on it.

"Fine,” you replied with a groan, returning to the painting. He smiled gently before speaking.

“Pygmalion and Galatea by Jean Leon Gerome,” he said. “I personally find this painting filled with passion for obvious reasons. The way he kisses her as she transforms into a human. His dreams come true at that moment. He’s never felt more alive in his life."

"Personally, I think he’s a jerk. I know the story of Pygmalion and Galatea. I used to be really into mythology a while back,” you told him. “Pygmalion was a self-imposed lonely sculptor. He didn’t like mortal women because he thought they were flawed so he made a statue of what a perfect woman should be like. Aphrodite noticed how much he loved the statue so she brought her to life."

Steve chuckled. "Then what do you think the painting’s about?"

"Male superiority.” You stated, looking into the picture. “Look at how pure and delicate Galatea looks, isn’t that every man’s dream girl?"

"I see where you’re coming from,” Steve chimed in. “Notice the sculptures in the back. One is of a woman with her child which could represent the role of a mother that’s pressed upon them. The other is of a woman looking into a mirror and I think that symbolizes vanity. How women only really need to worry about their appearance and how it should please men. It’s how society wants us to be or at least in a man’s eye.”

“Then there’s Pygmalion, muscular and thriving in his own creativity and imagination. The ideal for any man at the time,” you put your hands on your hips. You know the more we keep talking about this, the more I’m starting to hate it.“

"Nothing wrong with that,” Steve shrugged. “I thought that was rather impressive - coming from you that is."

You growl under your breath and push him off balance. He chuckles, only making you cross your arms annoyed.

"I actually see it differently,” Steve said.

You raise a brow and turn to him. “How so?"

"It’s like the roles have been switched. Pygmalion’s reaching up to Galatea since she’s up on a pedestal. While she has to crouch down for his affection. Although we can’t ignore the fact that she is his creation, we know she possesses all of his love because he’s invested every part of him into her. His heart, soul, and mind, it all belongs to her. She possesses his idolization and can make him do whatever she wants,” he said.

You bring a hand to your cheek. “That makes sense. I like that interpretation more."

"It makes you feel pity for Pygmalion almost. He’s blind and naive in his devotion to her. If that was the painter’s intent, I think he did a good job by adding the theatrical masks in the corner.” You pointed. “Cause it isn’t reality. The emotions when you’re on stage are only skin deep. Even if Galatea may show love and affection towards Pygmalion, it’s not real and it never will be. Whatever emotions she holds will always be artificial. But the way he kisses and holds her shows that he believes Galatea’s love is sincere, and it makes you pity the guy. Everyone has a weakness and his is the desire to love."

"I feel exposed,” Steve mumbled.

“What?"

"Nothing,” he said. “I’m honestly amazed by your analysis."

You snorted. "I’m smarter than you, remember?” You teased and he rolled his eyes. “And thanks to you I don’t have to bang my head against the wall for the next three hours. Thanks, I guess you were right. I ended up liking it,” you said with a sheepish smile.

“I’m glad I could help."

Your eyes lock with his and you really look at them. Like it’s the first time you’ve seen him. You noticed the way his eyebrows raised a centimeter or two, lined between confusion and wonderment, his eyes twinkled in amusement as if he knew something you didn’t. They were like the ocean, so full of life yet so uncertain. The blue-green hue residing within pulling you deeper into the currents.

Staring isn’t exactly the word Steve would use. Your eyes rest, not unblinking but slowed; the effect is soft and inviting instead of harsh. Perhaps it’s your lips that give away the intention, not quite smiling but tilting as if they do.

As if you’re telling him to stay a little longer. It’s unspoken, but sometimes words aren’t needed. And he’d stay if you wanted him to, let you pull him deeper into the vast expanse of your eyes, glazed like honey and warmer than a summer breeze.

He snapped out of his thoughts. There he goes again. Your lips part to say something, but Steve says something first.

"I should go,” he said.

“Oh,” you said in disappointment. “Thanks for helping,” you give him a smile. “See ya around then?"

"Yeah, just be careful next time?"

"I’ll make sure to,” you chuckled. “Have a nice day.”

He turned on his heel and waved goodbye. You smiled at him and waved back. The minute he turns away from you completely, the smiles on both of your faces fall instantly and it’s like you’ve lost something you never had.

“Sweetheart, I ain’t a bad guy. I’ll be nothing but good to you."

His smooth voice whistled in your ears. Another groan escaped your lips and you slammed your head against the cool metal surface of the kitchen table.

Usually, the kitchen at Urban Remedy was a chaotic mess. Complete with shouting chefs and frolicking waitresses, sizzling pans and the clatter of dishes. But as the day began to wind down, so did business allowing its workers to catch a break.

"I know this isn’t the best place to work, but-” your head shot up at the sound of your boss’ sassy voice.

“Oh no,” you replied sheepishly. “I was just-"

"I’m just joking,” May chuckled. She leaned over the table. “What’s wrong sister? Someone didn’t tip you well enough?"

"No, it’s not that,” you chuckled while sitting straight up. “Just life I guess."

"Lemme guess it’s a guy,” she laid it on the table. Your cheeks heated.

“Dost mine ears deceive me?” Wanda popped her head in through the door. “Our residential man-hater has a guy problem?"

"Where did you come from?"

"I have super hearing,” the girl said, taking a seat next to you. She shakes your arm in excitement. “Now spill."

"First off, it’s not a guy,” you lied. “I’m just in a bind is all."

"Sweetheart,” May said, “you’re not fooling anyone."

"It’s not!” You insisted.

They replied with doubtful looks and a roll of the eyes.

“It’s that cute guy that comes to visit sometimes, right?” Wanda asked. “The one with the old man name?"

You snorted. "No, Quentin is Quentin. He’s not a guy."

"So there is a guy, but he’s not your friend,” May conjectured.

You exhaled deeply, feeling annoyed by them and yourself.

“Okay, there’s a guy,” you grumbled.

Wanda bounced in her chair while clapping her hands. “I knew it! Is he cute?"

"I don’t know!” you retorted. Your eyes flit towards May and she’s smiling, pulling all the juicy details out of you. “Okay, maybe a little,” you mumbled and they giggled like children “But I don’t like him or anything!"

"He wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t,” May smirked, resting her chin in her hand.

“It’s not like that,” you look away with a sigh. “You ever just want to stay away from something but end up getting closer? Like you want nothing to do with them but they pull you in regardless?"

"Me with cats,” Wanda said. You turn to her puzzled. “What? I’m allergic to cats, but they’re so cute."

"Seems like you’re in quite the predicament,” May chuckled.

“You know a way out?"

"Nope,” she deadpanned, “but you better get yourself out there cause I just heard the door open.” She pointed behind her with a chuckle.

You stand with a groan and make your way to the front.

“Hey,” Wanda called you back, “I think you should just follow your heart.” You rolled your eyes. If that isn’t the stupidest thing -“I know what you’re thinking but try it out? I mean it might be uncomfy at first but it could be worth it?"

You shoot her a smile and a nod. "I’ll try,” you said pushing past the door and into the hall, to find a boy standing by the counter with his back to you.

“Welcome in, how can I help you?” you asked as you approached him.

The boy turned and you could’ve sworn you’ve seen him before. And by the way he looks at you, mouth agape and eyes wide, you probably did.

It’s like Peter’s memory has been swiped clean and he doesn’t even know what language is anymore as he stands in front of you.

“Uhm?” You asked, totally not judging him.

“Oh Peter,” May said from behind you. “You’re here!"

TAG LIST: @ashwarren32 @rootcrop @siriusement @savedbystark @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @little-dark-empress @imsonick @scuzmunkie @achishisha @chuckennuggets1213 @captainchrisstan

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #mobster!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x reader #mafia au #mafia steve rogers x reader

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is0gild · 4 years

Text

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 24

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 7,564

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

When I awoke, Mother was gone. It made sense, seeing as how daylight was streaming in through the bedroom window now and I could hardly have expected her to stay all night with me. She'd probably left not too long after I'd nodded off.

Part of me wondered if she had ever really been there in the first place or if I had simply dreamed the whole thing up. It'd all just been so weird. Mother hadn't been that… well, motherly towards me in over a decade. It was a long lost part of our relationship that I'd dearly missed, so I wouldn't have put it past my subconscious mind to cook something like that up while I was dreaming especially now that I was back in my childhood bedroom where such old memories could be sparked. But no, I was still in my dress I'd worn for dinner yesterday evening and I wouldn't have gone to bed without changing first, not unless Mother had actually been here.

But that still begged the question: why her sudden and unexpected change in behavior after all this time?

Maybe… it had something to do with the wedding? Maybe me running out on it and disappearing for weeks without a word had taken its toll on her even more so than I'd ever realized? If so, then her little visit last night had probably just been a… a moment of weakness, and a fleeting one at that. Why else would she have waited until we were away from Father's and Grandfather's prying eyes? Once we were back around them, not to mention the rest of the family, her usual mask would probably be firmly back in place again. She would be prim and proper, cold and reserved, just like she'd been for years now and it would be like those precious few moments last night had never happened.

...or maybe I was being overly pessimistic. Maybe now I had an ally in Mother where I'd previously thought to have had none. Maybe The Talk™ tomorrow wouldn't be as bad as I feared, not if I had her and Anna on my side.

But honestly, who knew? Who ever knew anything really when it came to my family? I certainly didn't. Not anymore. Not for a long time.

All I could do was wait and see and hope the anxiety didn't murder me in the meantime.

I climbed out of bed, grimacing at my reflection in the vanity mirror, at what a rumpled mess my dress had become overnight. This was the second time this week I'd slept in a garment that wasn't meant to be slept in. This was dangerously on the verge of forming into a habit. I really needed to stop. Sighing, I started walking towards my luggage so I could dig out something fresh to wear. However, I was halted in my tracks by a knock at my door.

I hesitated in answering it, giving my appearance another once over in the mirror.

This time, my reflection responded with a wrinkle of her nose.

Ugh, everyone's a critic.

Ah well, there was nothing for it. No amount of hand smoothing would make this dress fit to be seen and I wasn't about to make whoever it was wait for me to change. Tossing my frazzled braid back over my shoulder, I moved towards the door and opened it just wide enough for me to poke a head out.

"Mornin', El!" Lea beamed down at me, looking far more presentable than I on day two of his whole rebel-without-a-cause aesthetic he had going on.

I smiled back with a soft, "Good morning."

Dipping into a bow, he swept a hand out to one side, "I've come to escort thee to breakfast forthwith, m'lady."

"My my, we'll make a gentleman out of you yet," I hummed a chuckle.

He scoffed with a big theatrical sniff. "My word, I say, perish the fucking thought!"

"Shoot, you were this close," I snorted with a shake of my head. "Just give me a quick minute to change."

Before I could shut the door however, he stopped me with his hand lightly snagging mine. "But why? You already look as gorgeous as ever this morning."

I stubbornly ignored the tiny flutter I felt inside my ribcage. Didn't he realize it was a bit silly to be pulling the whole googly-eyed boyfriend routine when it was just the two of us? Maybe he was just getting into character early before we went down into the dining room. I rolled my eyes, "Oh yeah, gorgeous enough to make Mother pale, Father choke, and Grandfather faint."

Smirking, Lea said, "All I'm hearing are a ton of pros and a whole lotta nada for the cons column."

My eyelids drooped but before I could reply, there was a sudden shout from down the hall, "Ah-ha! There you are!" A blur zoomed towards us, attaching itself to Lea's arm.

Or rather, herself, seeing as how it was Anna.

So… the prodigal sister had at last graced me with her presence.

"I thought I might find you here," she grinned up at Lea, who just blinked down at her in response. Then she directed that grin my way, "Hi, Sis! Bye, Sis! Alright, big guy, let's go!" She charged off once more, dragging Lea with her. Or rather… she tried to anyway. But I imagine Lea could be quite the anchor when he didn't want to move, so instead the hold she had on his elbow ended up snapping her back like a rubberband.

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "What's the rush, Anna?"

"Yeah, short stuff, where's the fire?" Lea asked.

"We gotta get you ready!" Again, she gave another tug of his arm.

Again, he didn't budge. "For…?"

"For a beautiful day out on the water," she stated as if it were obvious. We both stared at her blankly and she huffed. "We're going yachting!"

Both eyebrows shot up Lea's forehead. "We? As in you and me?"

"And Elsa," she added, stomping over to Lea's other side and pressing her shoulder into his arm, trying to shove him into moving. It was kind of like watching a chihuahua attempt to out muscle a great dane. Just as effective too. Panting from the exertion, she tacked on, "And Maren and Ryder too."

"Oh, okay," Lea nodded, then frowned. "...and Maren and Ryder would be?"

"Our cousins," I said before furrowing my brow at Anna. "Wait, they're here? Since when?"

"Since an hour ago," she grunted, still pushing all her weight against Lea and getting nowhere, her feet sliding and scraping against the carpet. "Auntie Yelena showed up early with them. Now Mom and Dad want to shoo us young'uns out of the house so we won't be in the way while this whole place is turned upside down by party prep chaos. So," she paused, red-faced and puffing for breath before brightening, "figured we could take Daddy's yacht out for a lil spin!"

Lea cocked his head, "Still don't get why you're trying t- oof, hey now!" David (aka Anna) had managed to catch Goliath (aka Lea) off guard by ramming her shoulder into his side, forcing him to stagger a step. "-why you're trynta kidnap me," he finished in a grumble.

Stepping back from him, she crossed her arms and fixed him with a dull stare. "...did you pack swim shorts?"

"Well no, but I didn't know we were gonna-"

"Exactly!" she cried triumphantly, latching onto his elbow once more. "So we're gonna go borrow you some from Ryder!"

"You coulda just said that in the firs-" his words were swallowed in a yelp as she suddenly bolted, this time managing to haul Lea tripping and stumbling behind her.

"Be ready to go in fifteen minutes, Sis! Meet us in the driveway! See ya there!" Anna's voice echoed down the corridor back towards me in their wake.

I called after her, "But breakfast-"

"We'll pick something up on the way!"

...she was still acting so very strange.

Sure, she was always a ball of energy, but normally she'd let me talk more than that before making a break for it. It'd almost felt like she couldn't get away from me fast enough. I knew she'd been in a hurry, but getting Lea seaworthy hardly called for the state of emergency she was making it out to be.

Now more than ever, I was determined to get to the bottom of her odd behavior. Luckily for me, Anna had slipped up and made the error of trapping us on a boat together for the next several hours. And even if said boat was a yacht, there still weren't exactly a lot of places for her to hide from me on it.

She couldn't possibly keep avoiding me there.

My mistake.

Anna very well could keep avoiding me here and in fact had been doing so successfully for the past hour. It was not a matter of whether or not she had places to hide so much as she just never seemed to stay still for more than ten seconds. She'd always kind of been the cartoon Tasmanian Devil given human form, but now she was that on friggin' steroids. Just a constant whirl of chaos that was always on the move.

"I'm flying, Jack!"

Then, of course, there was the fact that I had to put up with this dork.

I hung my head with a sigh from my position behind Lea, my hands gingerly holding his hips as he stood proudly at the bow of the yacht with his arms spread out wide to either side of him. "You know, this wasn't exactly what I had pictured when you said you wanted to reenact that one scene from Titanic."

He glanced over his shoulder at me with a toothy grin. "You wanna swapsies? I can let you be Rose for a bit!"

"...I'm good, thanks."

"Suit yourself! You're seriously missing out though," he shrugged, stepping down off the raised rim of the boat and onto the cushioned bench seating, using it like a staircase to get himself to the floor. The salty breeze played with his shirt on his way down - a very loose short-sleeved button-up that only had one button fastened in the middle, so peeks at his muscled torso were not uncommon and could be rather, hrm… distracting. The swim trunks he'd borrowed from my cousin were just shy of his knees and were a deep red with black silhouettes like palm trees at sunset.

His flip-flops hit the deck and he spun around, offering me a hand to help me down as well. Smiling my thanks, I gripped the wide brim of my beach hat with one hand while the other took his. My strappy sandals landed on the hardwood beside him, careful not to step on the hem of my long, strapless cover-up dress made of a thin, billowy white fabric that barely hinted at the blue two-piece I wore underneath it. It was a beachwear ensemble I'd left behind at my parents' home years ago. A good thing too since like Lea, I hadn't exactly planned for a yacht outing when packing my bags for this weekend.

"So," Lea chirped as he released my hand, "now that we've gotten that important and thoroughly pressing bit o' business outta the way, what's next on our lil agenda?"

My lips pursed to one side before I decided, "Let's try and find Anna."

Though there was really no try about it. Finding her wasn't the hard part. Getting her to stay and actually talk to me was. Still, I was on a mission!

Mission Make Anna Open Up About Whatever The Heck Her Problem With Me Is.

...I really needed to get better at naming these things.

As I turned to give a quick glance around the yacht, first person I spotted was Maren - short for Honeymaren, but she hated the name with a bloody passion and did her best to bury that info in the hopes that it would never again see the light of day. She stood not far off next to the ship's mini bar under the shade of the awning. Her dark hair was pulled back into a braid and she was sporting a purple swimsuit with a matching sarong.

The thing that stood out most however were the cheap, plastic star-shaped sunglasses currently perched on the bridge of her nose. They were particularly eye catching given that, one, she hadn't had them on a moment ago and, two, they were probably just about the last things one would expect to see her wearing. She seemed just as surprised to discover them on her face as I was, given the way she removed and squinted at them with a bemused smirk.

I could hear Lea's flip-flopping footsteps following behind me as I walked towards her. Arching an eyebrow, I pointed at the things, "Where'd those come from?"

"Ask Lil Miss Sunglasses Fairy over there," she laughed, popping them back on before jerking a thumb over her shoulder towards the helm. There Ryder stood manning the steering wheel in his yellow, turtle-print trunks, the sunlight gleaming off his short black hair. It looked like he too had recently received a visit from this so-called Sunglasses Fairy, for he was now (quite bewilderedly) modeling a pair of shades with big, cartoony red lips for frames.

Ah, and here the Sunglasses Fairy herself came now, her auburn pigtail braids flapping wildly about as she skipped towards us in her bright green bikini and boyshorts. Not to be left out of the latest fashion trend of her own making, Anna had on a pair herself shaped like flowers. And in her hands were-

"For you, oh dearest Sis of mine, I've saved the best for last!" she happily declared, sliding the shades with neon pink heart lenses onto my nose.

Joy.

Lea looked down at me and snerked, biting back a grin.

Boy didn't know how close he was to getting his arm pinched for such impudence.

Anna gave a small pout, "Sorry, Lea, but I only have four."

"No problemo. El and I can just share," he chuckled, stealing mine and donning them himself, waggling his eyebrows at me as he leaned back and propped his elbows against the boat railing.

Ugh, I wasn't sure what was more annoying: that he actually looked pretty good in them or the fact that he knew it and was being smug about it.

"Charming," I deadpanned before looking back at Anna. "Where'd you even get these silly things from?"

"Oh, I bought them all ages ago from one of those shack shops by the dock," she tossed a hand back towards the shoreline. "I've been keeping them hidden away for a special occasion."

My head tipped to one side. "...and that special occasion would be?"

She tapped a finger to her chin, "Hmm… Ah! National Fun In The Sun Day, of course!"

I gave her a flat look. "That is neither national nor an actual holiday."

"Is too!" Her chest puffed up as she planted her fists on her hips, "I'm the captain of this here dinghy and what the captain says, goes!"

"You can't just make up holidays, that's not how captains work," I crossed my arms.

"Yeah-huh! I'm the captain and I say so!"

"But-" I stopped myself, pinching the bridge of my nose. Just let it go, Elsa, otherwise we'll just keep going around in circles like this all day. "Nevermind. I was hoping, Captain, that maybe you and I could have a minute to-"

"Move over, Ryder! It's my turn to steer!"

Annnnd off she zipped again.

I had half a mind to chase after her but with the way things were going, I feared she might swan dive off the side of the yacht just to get away from me.

"What's wrong, El?" Lea frowned before taking off the heart shades and offering them to me. "Want these back? I hear rose-colored glasses make everything better."

I mustered a weak smile at that, arms hugging myself as I leaned back against the metal rail beside him and muttered, "Thanks but no thanks."

Perching the sunglasses atop his head now, he asked, "Seriously, why the long face?"

"...it's Anna," I grimaced, reaching for a tendril of my ponytail to twist between my fingers as I watched Ryder join his sister at the mini bar. They were just barely out of earshot so I couldn't hear whatever they were laughing and shaking their heads over. "She's mad at me or… something, I don't know. All I know is she won't talk to me, not really. Every time I try, something always comes up and she runs off."

Lea glanced towards where Anna stood valiantly at the helm, one hand holding the steering wheel steady while the other shielded her eyes against the sun. "Huh… now that ya mention it, it does seem like she's been avoiding you, doesn't it?"

"You've noticed it too?" So it wasn't all just in my head. Not sure if that made me feel better or worse.

"Maybe a lil," he nodded. Pushing himself off the rail, he turned to stand in front of me now. "But mad? Nah, I don't think so. She seems far too chipper for that." Lea rubbed a curled finger to his chin, "Maybe she's actually sad about something but doesn't wanna worry you so is just… trying to put on a brave front? Or she could have something important she wants to talk to you about but is too scared?"

"But that's ridiculous, Anna knows she can always talk to me about anyth-"

"Hard to starboard!" came a sudden shout from my sister before she jerked the wheel into a spin.

The yacht whipped around in a sharp turn, throwing Lea into a stumble towards me. I gasped, bringing up a hand to stop him while turning my head away and squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for impact.

But it never came.

Cracking open one eyelid then the other, I discovered he'd managed to catch himself by grabbing the railing to either side of me.

"Whew!" he grinned, looming mere inches over me, "That was close!"

...wait… my hand was still raised… and touching… something…

I slowly, reluctantly lowered my gaze towards it.

Only to have my face all but burst into flames and practically blast steam out of my ears.

For behold! There, my hand, in all its brazen glory, had found its way into Lea's unbuttoned shirt and that was without a doubt a big, heaping helping of man boob it was groping right now.

...very nice, delightfully sculpted man boob. Firm yet… soft, somehow? No, soft wasn't the right word… ah, supple! Yes, that was what I-

Now was not the time to be debating word choice!

Not while my friggin' hand was still on his bare friggin' chest.

Gah, what was wrong with me?! I really needed to stop sexually harassing the guy who had zero interest in dating at the moment!

Okay, remain calm, Elsa. Maybe he hasn't even noticed it yet. Maybe if I just discreetly removed it, he'd never even have to know it'd been there in the first place. Alright, easy does it… careful now, just take it one small step at a time… first lift the palm off… okay, good! Now the thumb… perfect. And up goes the pinky… then the next one… and the next… just the index finger to go-

Oh. My. God. Did I just goddamn trail my fingertip down his skin?! Pretty sure I'd trailed it. No, not trailed, I'd caressed! Caressed! Great. Just dandy! If he hadn't realized where my hand was before, he sure as hell knew now!

My eyes shifted about desperately.

Oh, this was uncomfortable. Quick! Do something to make it less awkward!

I looked him dead in the eye, brought up my hand and poked him in the nose with a tiny, "Boop!"

Nailed it.

Lea blinked. Then he gave a little snort, one corner of his lips curling up. "What was that?"

A clever and artful distraction, duh. One that was clearly working too, so ha!

"What do you mean, what was that?" I mumbled, hitching my chin and averting my gaze. "It was a nose boop, what else?"

His grin twitched wider. "Well, yeah, I could see that. What I meant was why?"

I couldn't help but notice he was still really close. That he still hadn't let go of the railing yet, keeping me trapped between his body and it. Clearing my throat, I said defensively, "You just have a very… boopable nose, is all."

"...is that so?" he murmured, eyes crinkling as he pressed his forehead to mine.

Dear lord, his rent-a-boyfriend act would be the death of me.

"Yo! Elsa!"

Thank goodness! Cousins to the rescue!

Closing his eyes, Lea exhaled softly before spinning around and shifting over to rest back against the steel rails beside me once more just as the two of them approached us. "Is it true?" Ryder asked excitedly, eyes bright behind the lip-glasses he'd yet to take off as he stirred his mimosa. "Do you really sell mall ice cream now?"

I winced slightly. "Oh… you know about that?"

"Avast ye landlubbers!" Anna's voice rang out again as she continued to pilot the yacht. "Weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen!"

"You kidding?" Maren snerked, taking a sip of her bloody mary and ignoring my sister. "Once the Duke found out, the whole family found out. You know how that old coot loves to run his mouth to anyone who'll listen."

"So it is true!" Ryder beamed. "At an Ice Palace, right? The place with that kickass reindeer mascot?"

"Um…" I furrowed my brow. He seemed oddly enthusiastic about this. "...yes?"

He pumped a fist, "Awesome! Love the place! Their ice cream is so good and all their commercials are hilarious! Have you seen their new one with all the reindeer singing a frigging rock ballad?"

Even with the star-shades, Maren's eye roll was plain as day. "You and your strange obsession with reindeer."

"What? They're cute!"

"Whatever, I just can't with you right now," she held up a hand in his face as she took a sip from her drink, looking at me again. "Seriously though, you ran out on your wedding, on your whole sweet cushy life… just so you could sell ice cream?"

"Land ho! Thar she blows!" Anna again.

Holding onto my hat so it wouldn't blow away as the wind picked up, I frowned. "Well… that wasn't exactly why I left…"

"But that's what you did," she insisted, eyebrows lifting with her tiny grin. "Do you even know about all the chaos that erupted after you turned up missing?"

I swallowed hard. I could feel Lea's fingers fiddling with a lock of my ponytail, but I hardly noticed it as I bit down on my bottom lip and shook my head. "Was it bad?"

"Aw man, the whole place went nuts after you pulled your vanishing act! You shoulda been there!" Ryder laughed before squinting skyward. "Although… I guess if you had been there, none of it would have happened." He shrugged, taking a big swig of his mimosa. "Anyway, it was wild! Our family was yelling, his family was yelling, a flower girl was bawling, the giant ice swan sculpture got knocked over and shattered into a bajillion pieces, a bridesmaid punched a groomsman, the-"

"Wait," I interrupted him, my eyebrows knit together as my gaze shifted over to Maren. Besides Anna, who'd been my maid of honor… "Weren't you my only bridesmaid?"

She smirked, lazily lifting a shoulder before letting it fall. "What can I say? I live for anarchy."

"Batten down the hatches! Swab the deck or it's straight to Davy Jones' locker with the lot of you!" It seemed Anna was really getting into character now.

"The butterflies," Ryder eagerly jumped back into the conversation right where he'd left off, "were released on accident at the same time the doves somehow got free as well and, oh man, the carnage! It was epic!"

My hands were fidgeting with each other. I had no idea when they'd started. My chest was beginning to burn and constrict.

"I still can't believe it," Maren wrinkled her nose in glee, chewing on her straw. "You ditching a guy at the altar. You, of all people. You've always been such a goody-goody. So well-behaved, so polite, so disgustingly perfect. Just goes to show you, I guess… it's always the sweet, innocent, quiet ones who'll surprise you."

Fidget, fidget, fidget.

It was getting harder to breathe.

"A total bloodbath!" Ryder was still going. "I mean, did you even know doves ate butterflies? Cuz I didn't! But those poor little guys never even stood a chance! Tiny insect guts were flying everywhere! Seriously... Best. Wedding. Ever."

"Heh-hey!" Lea suddenly piped up. "Are all these swimsuits just for show or we gonna," he clicked his tongue, jerking a thumb towards the water, "dive on in?"

He was taking the attention off me. I shot him a grateful if somewhat shaky smile. His arm slipped around my shoulders, giving them a small, reassuring squeeze as he rested his cheek against my hair.

"Please," Maren sniggered, "like we'd actually swim in the lake."

"Watch and learn, dude," Ryder grinned as he moved over to the plush seating that circled the edge of the ship's bow and pushed a button on a panel behind its backrest. The massive, seemingly decorative circle that was etched into the center of the foredeck began to hum and slide under the rest of the floor, revealing the hot tub underneath. Striking up a finger, Ryder then pushed a second button, this one turning on the jets.

"Ooo," Lea nodded in appreciation, "a jacuzzi that appears as if by magic. My my, how the other half lives." Then he huffed out a snort through his nose, "Leave it to the rich to find a way to take a soak in the middle of a lake without actually having to get in the lake."

Ryder scrunched up his face, "Lake water's gross."

Pointing at the hot tub, Lea said, "You do realize the more people get in that thing, the more it's just a boiling vat of human juices, right?"

"Thanks for that," Maren gave a mock gag before tossing her chin towards the edge of the boat. "What're you waiting for then? Lake's right there and all yours, Stretch."

"No thanks," leaving my side, Lea walked over to the ledge of the jacuzzi to dip a toe in. "Bring on the person stew! 'Sides, not every day I get to hop into a yacht hot tub. Wouldn't wanna miss out."

Setting his now empty glass down, Ryder said, "Not every day you get to steer the yacht either. Whaddya say, my man, want to give it a go?" He pointed towards the helm.

As if on cue, Anna bellowed, "Ready the cannons, ye scallywags, lest we be dead in the water!"

Lea gave me a quick glance and I shrugged. He scratched the back of his head, "Uh… sure! Why not? Be right back, boo!" He planted a swift peck to my forehead before transferring his pink sunglasses back to my nose. "If ya need me, just shoot me the heart-eyes with these and me n' my boopable nose'll come running."

I huffed and shoved his shoulder, "Just try not to crash us into anything." Fighting the upward tug I felt at one side of my mouth, I added more quietly, "Have fun."

"Always do," he winked before turning to follow Ryder towards the stairs that lead to the upper deck.

"Shall we?" Maren then asked, tossing her sarong to the bench as she stepped down into the hot tub.

I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder. Normally, I wasn't self-conscious about being seen in my swimsuit. But then, normally only people who were related to me ever saw me in it. The one exception there of course being my ex, but I'd never been awkward about it in front of him either. I'd never really been… anything about it. But now, oddly the idea of Lea seeing me in my swimsuit, it just… well, I don't know… did weird things to my pulse and made my skin tingle. It wasn't a bad feeling, per se… I wasn't quite sure what it was really.

In any case, the boys looked to be engrossed in a heated debate with Anna currently. It seemed the self-proclaimed captain wasn't quite ready to give up her post at the wheel yet. None of those three were even looking this way.

"...alright," I said at last, slipping out of my cover-up and letting it fall to the deck. Putting my hat down on top of the small pile of fabric as well, I lowered one foot in into the water, followed by the other before hastily taking a seat, letting the bubbling warmth engulf me up to my shoulders.

Stretching and luxuriating in the jacuzzi, Maren's glass dangled between her fingertips as she idly swirled about what was left of her bloody mary inside it. "I can see why you did it."

A crease formed between my eyebrows as I gave her a sideward glance. "Did what?"

"Got the hell outta Dodge before the first note of Here Comes the Bride could even chime out the organ," she smirked, sticking the straw into the corner of her mouth.

My lips pinched. "I thought you'd already established it was to sell ice cream," I grumbled, lifting the sunglasses to sit atop my hair now since the absurd heart lenses were already fogging over from all the steam.

She gave an amused scoff, setting her empty glass down on the rim of the hot tub. "I said that's what you did, but we both know that wasn't why. Not unless ice cream is roughly six foot seven, has green eyes to die for, and is rocking a smokin' hot bod."

"Oh…" I cleared my throat. Was my face turning red? Psh, that was just the jacuzzi. I think heat was cranked up a little too high in here, in fact. Yeah, that had to be it. I laughed nervously, "What can say I? He just, er… stole my heart."

Atta girl, way to sell the lie.

...that... was a lie… right?

What am I saying, of course it was! All I had was a crush. A simple, meaningless crush, nothing more.

Anna had finally retreated to the mini bar where she was sulking as she mixed herself a drink, so Ryder had set Lea up at the wheel, who was nodding at everything he was told. Maren removed her star-shades, gently biting down on one of the earpieces as her eyes drifted towards the helm. I wasn't particularly a fan of that sly little curve to her lips as she watched him. "Mmm, I bet that's not all he stole."

A small, incredulous splutter escaped me. "Maren," I scolded, splashing some water at her.

She snerked. "All I'm saying is I don't blame you. I myself would've given up a Prince Charming fiancé worth his weight in gold and risked any claim to my family fortune, all for one steamy summer fling with that hunky pizza boy over there."

Okay fine, no use denying it anymore. This thing my face was doing? Definitely a blush. "Don't you have a girlfriend?" I muttered, eyes darting about.

"Sure do and she is my world, my moon and my stars, my everything!" she beamed. Then her eyebrows bounced, "Still… doesn't mean I can't admire the view every once and awhile."

"Well stop admiring," I harrumphed, narrowing my gaze down at the frothy water.

"That's adorable! You really do like this one, don't you," she cooed, pinching my cheek. I just rolled my eyes and swat her hand away. "Hope you weren't too attached to your hat, by the way."

"My…?" I blinked. "Why?"

She pointed, "Cuz there it goes."

Sure enough, a gust of wind had come along to scoop it up and carry it off, only to let it plummet once it'd escaped the confines of the yacht.

"Cap overboard!" Ryder called out, cupping a hand to his mouth.

"I'll get it!" Lea grinned, already kicking off his flip-flops. Before any of us could react, he took off running, launching himself up onto the guard rail and diving into the waters below.

I inhaled sharply as I shot up to my feet. "Your boy is crazy!" Ryder was cackling as he steadied the abandoned steering wheel and shut off the ship engine. Maren whooped and clapped while a giggling Anna rushed to the edge, leaning over the metal bars to look for him.

I just hoped that big dummy didn't get knocked unconscious by the rudder cracking his skull open or something! All over a stupid sun hat, no less!

Thankfully, it wasn't long before Anna was throwing up her hands and cheering, which I took to be a good sign as I released the breath I'd been holding. Next thing I knew, Lea came rising up the ladder attached to the side of the boat, wet hair slicked back and the brim of my cap between his teeth so his hands were free for climbing. Clearing the last few rungs, he hopped onto the deck and grabbed the hat out of his mouth, hissing, "Shit, that water's cold! Brr, nearly froze my ass off!"

...or at least, I think he'd said something like that.

It was hard to be sure really. My eardrums seemed to be on the fritz while all my focus now directed itself towards his shirt. His sopping, soaking wet shirt. It was clinging to the chiseled contours of his abs in a way that was rather, ah… fascinating. Not to mention see-through. Yes, very, very much so. It was actually kind of beautiful, in a way. Majestic, really. Quite the sight to behold and-

-and fudge, I was staring.

Staring at him, who was staring at me.

Me, who was still standing in the jacuzzi and flaunting my two-piece like I was the friggin' star of Baywatch.

I sat back down so fast, water splashed over onto the deck behind me. Yes, oh blessed jacuzzi bubbles, cloak me in your warm, protective embrace. Face heated and eyes not quite able to meet his, I stammered out a quick, "Th-thank you."

"Of… of course! Happy to!" Lea said brightly. Huh… was he getting a bit of a sunburn? He started to walk forward with a goofy, lopsided grin, holding the hat out towards me, "Here ya g-"

Apparently misjudging where the ledge of the hot tub was, he stumbled head first into it with us. I jolted in my seat and Maren half shrieked, half laughed as water exploded everywhere. As soon as he resurfaced and was coughing up water, I asked, "Are you okay?!"

"Fine! Nothing bruised 'cept my pride. Wanna smooch it all better?" he snickered, leaning in close and making loud kissy noises. Eyelids drooping, I just put my hand on his face and shoved him away. Still chuckling, he once more offered me my now thoroughly drenched hat. "Believe this is yours, m'lady?"

I hid a smile behind my fingers. "My hero," I said dryly, taking it from him and setting it aside on the hardwood once more. Surely it was too waterlogged at this point to fly off again.

"Yoink," he plucked the heart-shades off me so he could wear them himself once more. "Mind if I join you gals?" he chirped, standing up in the jacuzzi to remove his soggy shirt. I did my best not to ogle him this time.

The same couldn't be said for Maren as she smirked up at him. "Would seem you already have, Slim."

He cocked an eyebrow at her as he took a seat at my side. Then he was bending towards me, muttering in a low voice, "Uh… should I be nervous about the way your cousin is looking at me?"

I snorted, turning and leaning in close so I could return the whisper into his ear, "Ignore her." Lea seemed to give a small shiver, but that wouldn't make sense. It was very hot in this jacuzzi, so I must have been mistaken. "She has a girlfriend."

"Did, uh…" he cleared his throat, "did anyone tell her that?"

"Don't worry. Apparently she's just admiring the view," I said, one corner of my mouth twitching up.

His eyes crinkled behind those pink lenses. "Good. Woulda hated to break her heart otherwise, seeing as how I'm already deliriously happy in a loving, committed relationship with the bewitching creature sitting next to me," he slipped one arm to rest along the edge of the hot tub behind me while taking my hand in his other one so he could bring it up out of the water and press his lips to my knuckles.

Click!

I glanced up at the sound to see Anna crouching down next to the jacuzzi, holding her phone up with the camera pointed towards us. "D'aww, what a great picture! You two are such cuties!" she squealed, looking down at her screen as her fingers swiped across it.

Lea had lowered our hands back down to rest underwater once more, his fingers interweaved with mine now. Which was a little silly, come to think of it, as no one could possibly be seeing us holding hands through all these bubbles. Perhaps he didn't realize that. Then again, I wasn't exactly rushing to take my hand back either.

Anna was still gushing, "Seriously, I'm becoming diabetic from sweetness overload h-"

"Cannonball!"

Maren's head shot up and she snarled, "Ryder, no! This is a hot tub, not a-"

Suddenly a big blur was hitting the water, sending a huge blast of water in all directions for the second time. Anna yelped, shielding her mobile with her body while the rest of us just did our best to block the mini tidal wave with our hands. It was amazing that there was any liquid still left in here with us by now.

"Wahoo!" Ryder cried out as he popped back up, bouncing with his hands high over his head in triumph. It was short lived however as his sister punched him in the gut and he doubled over with a grunt.

"Bonehead!" she scowled at him as she relaxed back into her seat. "You could've broken your dumb neck."

"And my phone!" Anna added as she gave said device a careful lookover.

"Whatever, you're all just jelly cuz you didn't think to do it yourselves first." He fished around in the water for his lip-shades that had fallen off before perching them on his head and taking a seat as he looked to Lea, "Hella cool, am I right? Up top!" He held up his hand. Lea just shrugged and obliged him with a high-five.

Maren sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Boys. Ugh."

Seemingly satisfied that no damage had come to her phone, Anna plopped down onto the ledge of the jacuzzi now and let her feet dangle in the water. "Pic of my fave cousin," she singsonged, snapping a shot of Maren tipping her sunglasses down and holding two fingers up in the peace sign. "And one of my idiot cousin," she deadpanned, pointing it at Ryder now who just crossed his eyes and razzed his tongue at her. Giggling, she then turned the phone camera back towards Lea and me. "I want a couple more of you guys! Go on, smoosh in, you two!"

...who me?

Awkward penguin, nervous wreck, ball of raw friggin' nerves me? "Smoosh" in with a guy? While we were both only in swimsuits and thus at least a good seventy-five percent naked? Smoosh?! I didn't even know how to smoosh! I'd never smooshed a day in my life!

Did my sister know me but at all?

She did remember Lea and I were only pretend dating, right?

I narrowed my gaze one her. "...excuse me?"

"You heard me," she said sweetly, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she tipped her head forward, smirking over those flower-glasses. "Snuggle in, Sis."

Oh-ho, that evil brat knew exactly what she was doing.

Fine. If I gave her this and let her have her fun, maybe she'd finally open up to me about whatever it was that'd been bothering her.

So I scooched an inch over towards Lea.

"Closer," Anna said, staring at her phone screen as she pointed the camera at us again and waved me over with her free hand.

A tiny huff in my throat and another inch over. My knee was brushing against his now.

Anna groaned, "Come on, closer! You two like each other, right?!"

Lea gave a sheepish laugh, scratching his cheek and whispering, "El, forget it, you don't hafta-"

"It's fine," I muttered under my breath, hard eyes still on Anna as I reached over my shoulder and closed my fingers around Lea's wrist resting behind my head there. Hesitating briefly as my face began to warm uncomfortably and the thudding in my ears grew louder, I finally tugged the arm down to wrap around my bare shoulders and leaned into his chest slightly.

"Ugh, closer!"

One of my eyes ticked. "Anna, any closer and I'll be sitting in his lap. Is that what you want?"

She smiled impishly, "I mean, if you think it'll help…"

Lea's hushed voice came to me again, "El, really, this isn't-"

"Lea, really, it's fine," I insisted through grit teeth.

Alright, Anna, you want closer? I'll give you closer, you little...

I twisted in my seat, hugged my arms around his neck and yanked him down, pressing our cheeks together. Not to mention our chests. Our very wet, scantily-to-not-at-all clad chests. But I tried not to think about that part. My cheeks were frying enough as it was already. His whole body went rigid against mine before slowly relaxing as I felt his arms tighten around me. "Here, Anna," I snapped, "take the stupid picture!"

Hold this pose any longer and my heart might just shatter a rib with the way it was thundering.

Still there was no click. She frowned, "Aw, c'mon, Sis, give us a smile! You're in wub, after all!"

...that's it, I was going to throttle her.

"Gotcha covered!" Lea announced. I'd barely even had a chance to register his words before he'd removed his cheek from mine only to replace it with his lips and blow a loud raspberry. All my tension immediately banished and a surprised laugh erupted out of me as I tried to wriggle free, but not before-

Click!

"Perfect!" Anna bit back a grin as she eyed the photo on her phone.

Lea had a cheeky grin of his own that he was shooting my way. Though my eyes glared, my lips smiled as I gave his arm a shove, which did nothing to erase his smug look. Before I could retract my hand however, he'd snatched it up in his so he could lace our fingers together once more. At least this time it was above the water for everyone to see.

Now that that bit of nonsense was over and done with, perhaps Anna would give me a minute to talk to her while she was still distracted by riding her photography high. I saw Maren poking a finger into her brother's cheek as she teased him about something, so our cousins probably wouldn't miss us if we slipped away for a second or two. Sitting up straighter and taking a deep breath, I began, "Anna, perhaps now you and I could have a-"

"Oopsie, looks like I need a refill!" she trilled, swiping up her glass from where it sat on the deck beside her.

I squinted at it. "...it's still mostly full."

"Check again." She downed the whole thing in one big gulp before puffing out a satisfied, "Ha! Be right back!"

Whoosh!

Gone again.

With a long, drawn out sigh, I slouched so low into the jacuzzi now, the foamy surface brushed against my chin. I could see Lea frowning at me out of my peripheral, but he remained quiet, probably just as much at a loss with this whole mystery situation with my sister as I was.

My eyes gradually drifted over to the mini bar where I could see her mixing up some new concoction. However, instead of the upbeat glow she usually had about her, I noticed her shoulders sagging a little. She was worrying her lower lip between her teeth, the corners of her mouth turned down. I couldn't see her eyes behind the sunglasses, but her brow was wrinkled, seemingly lost in thought as she hung her head.

Huh… that didn't look like someone who was mad.

Maybe Lea was right. Maybe there really was something that had her sad or scared.

But what could it possibly be?

And why wouldn't she just tell me?

Author's Note: Yay for some yacht fun! Cuz that's just what rich people do I suppose xD Again, since I'm not sure if all of ya'll have seen Frozen 2, the new characters introduced this chapter (including the briefly mentioned Yelena) were all from that movie as a buncha people called the Northuldra who live in an enchanted forest. Since in F2 it was revealed Elsa's mom was Northuldra, there is a VERY real possibility that Honeymaren and Ryder really are all canonically related to Elsa and Anna in some way, so I figured hey, why not turn them into her cousins in this? Now if only Ryder had gotten to see Kristoff's talking reindeer Sven plushie routine, I think Ryder would have positively exploded with happiness xD Real talk tho, boys and girls... don't pull a Ryder: do NOT cannonball into a jacuzzi.

Alright, we now have Saturday morning out of the way, but still have plenty of The Weekend to go yet! Next chapter, what will the rest of the day hold for Elsa? Will she ever find out what seems to have her baby sis so down? Not to mention Gramps' bday palooza is looming ever nearer on the horizon, what potential new "fun" could that lil party bring? And seriously, how WAS there any water left in that lil hot tub after those couple o' knuckleheads (intentionally or not) crashed hard into that thing? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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