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mostmagical · 3 months

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for @zodoods, I hope this lives up to expectations 🙏

Words: 4k Summary:

Marinette knew she tended to get tunnel vision when she was focused, but luckily her boyfriend Chat Noir was always there to watch her back as they fought Monarch. With their enemy having disappeared, however, they decided together that it was finally time to reveal themselves. In public. Face to face. It's a little silly to have to introduce yourself to your own boyfriend, but after all, it wasn’t Marinette’s fault that she never knew her boyfriend’s name. (Adrien has never been to school, and Marinette doesn't know him.)

Marinette hadn’t known her smile could be so wide. Staring at herself in the reflection, she couldn’t be bothered to worry about the awful dark circles under her eyes, or the frizzy mess of her hair. Everything could be covered or smoothed over, after all. None of that really mattered. Not when her whole world was about to change.

Today was the day.

“Today,” she breathed the word to herself. “Tikki, can you believe it’s today?” she asked, turning around to look towards her kwami.

Tikki giggled from where she sat atop the dresser. “You and Chat Noir have only been planning it forever,” she replied.

The smile was beginning to make Marinette’s cheeks ache. “We have.”

For months following the disappearance of Monarch, Ladybug and Chat Noir had been planning and mentally preparing to finally reveal their identities to one another, eventually coming to the conclusion that they were both ready for it just a week prior. She could still see Chat’s goofy smile in her mind’s eye, clear as day.

“So, we’re really doing this?” he had asked as they sat atop a rooftop together. “For real?”

“For real,” she had replied, excitedly nodding her head. Taking his hand in hers, she had pressed three rapid kisses to the back of it, trying to impress all of her enthusiasm and all of her love into his skin through the suit. “I can’t wait to meet you, mon Chaton,” she had promised him.

His face was rosy, with that big, beautiful smile of his stretching out his cheeks. “Neither can I, my Lady.”

Marinette let out a low squeal at the not-so-distant memory, pressing her hands against her hot cheeks.

She was going to meet her boyfriend. For the first time.

Well, not exactly the first time, but first enough.

They had plans to meet at a little café just a few blocks from the Grand Palais. He had surprisingly been a bit apprehensive at first, but she assured him everything would be okay. Marinette promised to wear the rose he had given her in her hair, and she was going to look for the boy wearing the scarf she had made him on his pretend birthday (and then he could tell her his real birthday!).

She couldn’t wait.

This day was a long time coming, and Marinette had plenty of fantasies to prove it. She wanted to hold her boyfriend’s hand in public, kiss him and go to the movies, all without a crowd of people taking photos of them. She wanted to goof off and be silly with him, all without worrying about being a hero, or acting like a good role model. She wanted to take him over to her house, and have him meet her parents, and stay for dinner without the threat of a supervillain interrupting the desert.

And after today, all that could finally be reality.

She got to work applying her makeup and wrangling her hair, not wanting to waste another second. Although she was notoriously late for most events, this was something she hoped to actually arrive early to. The ruby red dress she had laid out the previous night while she should have been sleeping was the last to slip over her head, perfectly matching the scarlet of Chat’s rose tucked behind her ear. The knee-length skirt fluttered to and fro as she took one last scrutinizing look in the mirror. Everything had to be perfect for her not-so-first impression.

Once she was finally satisfied, Marinette tossed her purse over her head. As soon as Tikki was settled and comfortable, she at last headed out.

There was a skip in her step the entirety of the walk, completely out of her control.

Although excitement was certainly at the forefront of her emotions, she would be lying if she didn’t acknowledge that little seed of nervousness. What if he didn’t like her? (He would.) What if he wasn’t as kind as she thought, and his personality was nothing more than a front? (Impossible.) What if his nerves got the best of him, and he didn’t show?

With her heart thundering in her chest, she turned the last corner to bring the café into view.

Her eyes zoned in on a mop of blond hair instantly. It was neat and combed back— completely at odds with the wild wind-blown look she was used to seeing on her boyfriend, but something in the way her stomach twisted and swooped inside of her told her that she may have spotted him. Taking slow steps closer, she traced the curve of his posture with her eyes as he sat hunched over the tiny café table, gasping slightly as she located the familiar shade of blue peeking from his collar.

It had to be him. It had to.

A chorus of giggles broke her concentration, drawing her eyes to a gaggle of girls a couple tables over. They were whispering excitedly and pointing in the direction of the same mop of blond hair, all with cell phones raised. A sudden wave of heat ran up Marinette’s spine as she realized they were ogling him.

She wasn’t surprised that girls were looking at him. Chat Noir was the cutest, most handsomest boy in the world, so of course they would. But that was her cutest and most handsomest boy in the world.

Her slow steps quickly evolved into a fast walk until she was right beside him, at which she practically threw herself onto the table, bodyblocking the girls’ view. The boy visibly jumped at her entrance. She glanced at his face for his reaction, but his eyes were covered by large sunglasses, effectively hiding any expression of recognition. Face feeling suddenly warm, Marinette stood back up straight and cleared her throat, casually drumming her fingers against the laminate surface.

“H-hi. I’m looking for my kitten,” she said, uttering the code phrase they had planned to use to confirm each other’s identities.

The boy smiled, instantly easing her worries. “I saw a little bug on the flyer.”

A grin spread across her cheeks before she could stop it, giddiness overflowing to the tips of her fingers. “I found you,” she murmured, just quiet enough to be just for him.

He stood from his seat, still smiling, and Marinette thought he was going in for a hug until he stepped around her. She was only confused for a second before he pulled out the chair on the other side of the table.

“Oh.” So the gentlemanly thing wasn’t an act after all. Accepting the gesture, Marinette turned to sit, feeling him push the chair in behind her as she did so. “Thank you.”

He simply hummed, before returning to his own seat across from her.

“So, um–” Not really sure where to start, (how does one introduce themselves to the boy they’ve been dating for two years?) Marinette figured the basics should go first. She almost wanted to laugh as she realized she was essentially on a blind date with her long-term boyfriend. “I’m Marinette,” she said, tugging at her bangs before pushing them behind her ear.

“Marinette,” he breathed. Breathed, as in he actually sighed her name when he said it. Marinette thought she might melt. “That’s a beautiful name.”

She wondered how dopey her smile must look to him. “Thank you,” she replied. “And you are?”

Thin blond eyebrows raised over the rims of the glasses, before dropping back down out of sight almost as quickly as they appeared. He laughed. “Okay,” he said between chuckles. “I’m Adrien.”

Marinette wasn’t quite sure what was so funny, but his laughter was just as contagious as always. With a giggle, she stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Adrien.”

His returning smile was soft. “Nice to meet you, Marinette.” He took her hand, and turned it to rest atop his on the table, running smooth circles over the back of her palm with his thumb. The feeling of his warm skin on hers was foreign and exciting, setting off yet another flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

“You still wear your pigtails,” he stated.

Naturally, her free hand trailed to her hair. She smiled as her fingers brushed the velvet petals of the rose. “They’re kind of my armor,” she replied with a shrug. “All the better for you to recognize me.”

The corner of his lip twitched, but the soft smile remained unchanged. Part of her wondered if he was still nervous about meeting. Hoping to ease his worries, she grinned.

“And I’m glad to see you don’t wear whiskers,” she joked.

He laughed again, and that seemed to be enough to lower the tension in his shoulders, to Marinette’s relief. “You’re right, I don’t,” he said. “I have a clean public image to maintain, you know.”

Marinette furrowed her brows, trying and most likely failing to hide the confusion on her face. It was surprising; Chat Noir was definitely the type of person who would grow “whiskers” just to commit to the bit. To each their own she supposed. Mustaches did seem to be more supervillain-y than superhero-y, after all.

“I do have to ask, though, what’s with the glasses?” she asked, moving the conversation along. “They’re so big, they’re covering half your face. Any plans to take those off?”

“Well, I–” Adrien’s head turned minutely towards the girls at the table behind her, barely perceptible to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. “I don’t know.” His hand pulled at the scarf where it crossed over his black t-shirt.

“Please,” she insisted, putting on her best baby-doll eyes. “How unfair you get to see all of my face and I can’t see all of yours.” She held his hand tighter, imploring but hopefully he knew it was still light-hearted.

“Marinette, it’s just–”

She pulled out her secret weapon: the pout. His mouth instantly stopped moving.

“I’ve never really seen your eyes before,” she added. At his answering sigh, she felt a bout of pride swell in her chest. Victory.

Hesitantly, he removed the sunglasses and folded them on the table, all the while looking shyly up at her through golden lashes.

Marinette’s pulse quickened as she finally— really— met his eyes. Such strange feelings of déjà vu ran through her when she caught sight of how green they were. It was the first time she had seen his whole face, and yet it already felt so nostalgic and familiar. It was almost as if she had seen him before, and she supposed she had, in her dreams at the least.

“Gorgeous,” she sighed, unable to stop her tongue from embarrassing the rest of her.

All the regret she might have held drained out of her, however, when she saw how pink his cheeks went in response. His dropped jaw slowly curved into a small smile, and those pretty green eyes closed in half moons as he replied, “Thanks for the compliment.”

Was this really the same boy?

Marinette snorted. “What? No cheesy remark about how you knew I wouldn’t be able to resist you?”

“I’m just far too stunned by the beauty in front of me to think straight,” he said, mouth pulled sideways. “I daresay you could outshine me anyday.”

There he is.

She rolled her eyes in response, but she couldn’t deny the coils of warmth that spread across her skin. With a fond shake of her head, she brought one elbow to the top of the table to cradle her chin in her hand.

“You know, you’re taking this really well,” Adrien said, the smirk fading back to a humble smile. It was odd seeing him so reserved. “Better than I thought you would.”

“Taking what well?” she asked. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she recalled his apprehension from the night before. She attempted to keep things light, sliding into a teasing tone as she conspiratorially whispered, “Did you think I wouldn’t like you without the cat ears, mon Chaton?”

“Well, no, that’s not exactly—”

She cut him off, making sure to speak with all the sincerity she could muster, “Because there is no universe where I wouldn’t like you.” With a coy wink, she added, “Believe me. I checked.” She grinned with pride as her fingers squeezed his on the table, feeling as though she had one-upped him in cheesiness.

Again, his mouth hung open slightly as he processed her words, but soon morphed back into the soft smile. His head tilted to the side. “You always know what to say to make me happy, my–” The corners of his lips twitched, his intended endearment clear to both of them— “my Marinette,” he said instead, pulling their joined hands up to brush his lips against the back of her palm.

Dimly, Marinette registered the sound of a squeal from somewhere behind her.

“But, um, no.” His countenance took on a much more nervous expression, his free hand drifting back to play with the nape of his neck. “I meant more–” He paused, waving his hand awkwardly towards himself.

“What?”

His brows furrowed, mouth open and clearly poised to explain himself, but he was interrupted by a waiter arriving to take their orders, and the moment was surreptitiously forgotten.

As the date went on, conversation flowed freely between them. Marinette learned so many of his favorite things, what he was studying in school, that he was an only child just like her, and of course, his birthday, time and year. So many things that she would normally have naturally learned over time, which was something that she took for granted in her other relationships with family and friends. It was odd, but wonderful that this absurd blind date was just another unique experience that they could share together.

She would have been more than happy to talk to him forever if she could, but a trill from Adrien’s phone stopped their conversation short.

His eyebrows turned down as he read the screen. “How did it get so late?” he pouted, just as cute as before when he wore cat ears on his head. “I’m sorry, Marinette, but I have to go.”

Her smile was sympathetic, barely holding herself back from mirroring his pout. “That’s okay,” she replied. “We’ll just have to have our next date sooner.”

The answering smile on his face made it all worth it.

Adrien’s fingers flew across his keyboard for a second, before another trill responded. “My bodyguard says he can take you home, though!” he announced happily. “So we can spend a little more time together.”

Marinette couldn’t stop the confused noise from escaping her mouth. “Your…bodyguard?” she repeated slowly.

“Yeah!” He looked up from his phone, lips softly quirked upwards. “And don’t worry; he may look mean but he’s the kindest man I’ve ever met.”

That certainly wasn’t something Marinette was worried about, but now she felt like she needed to be.

She tried to cross the appropriate wires in her head. Okay, so Chat Noir, famed superhero of Paris and wielder of the power of destruction, had a bodyguard in his everyday life. And that bodyguard apparently drove him places?

Perhaps she needed to collect more evidence.

Too busy thinking to come up with anything to say, Marinette mutely nodded her agreement.

Having already paid the bill— well, Adrien paid, despite her protests—, the two stood from their seats and headed down the sidewalk. Marinette followed Adrien closely, too busy sweeping her eyes across the busy street to spot this ‘mean-looking’ man to notice Adrien’s knuckles bumping into hers. She finally looked up at him when he laced their fingers together and squeezed. His green eyes almost seemed to shimmer as they looked into hers, and Marinette could feel all that wound-up tension melt away in response.

The spell between them was broken by a sudden honk.

Adrien was the first to break eye contact, turning back towards the street. “Oh! There he is.”

Marinette followed his gaze. Her eyes widened as they landed on the sleek sedan that had pulled up to the curb in front of them. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew enough to identify the logo of a luxury brand. The car was well-washed and shiny, unlike most of the vehicles that parked along the dirty city streets.

A burly man emerged from the driver’s side door, and walked around the car. To Adrien’s credit, he did seem a bit scary, based on sheer size alone, but Marinette supposed her Papa was probably about the same size. She figured if the man smiled a bit more, he would come off much friendlier. He greeted the two of them with little more than a low grunt and a nod, before briskly opening the rear passenger side door.

Marinette froze in place as she waited for one of the others to move. She couldn’t for the life of her understand what was going on. Was Adrien going to drive and this man was graciously letting her have the front seat?

“Marinette?” Adrien cleared his throat. “Are you ready to go?”

She blinked a few times, looking back and forth between the open door and her boyfriend’s face. “Um, yes,” she replied nervously. “I’m ready.”

He bowed his head, gesturing with his free hand towards the open door. “Then, after you, my lady.”

The familiar name quelled the voices in her head long enough for her to step forward. “Thank you, my prince,” she teased in response.

Though she did step in first, she held fast to his hand, pulling him along with her. The inside of the sedan was just as clean as the outside. Small tablets nestled into the back of both front headrests, and a far fancier screen than Marinette had in any of her devices at home was centerstage on the dashboard. She could feel her eyes widening as she took it all in.

Chat Noir was rich.

Chloé Bourgeois rich, maybe.

That was… unexpected. Admittedly, she never imagined Chat to have a high-class upbringing (if she could even call Chloé’s that). She had always envisioned him as a rough and tumble sort of kid. He would take soda over wine any day. Canned tuna over caviar. He had never turned up his nose to fast food, or cheap nosebleed seats at a concert, or acted like he was any better than anyone else.

No, Chat– Adrien— was amiable, gracious, and an appreciator of the little things–

“Marinette?”

She whipped her head around to meet her boyfriend’s gaze, having been yanked from her thoughts. “Yes?”

Adrien seemed to be holding back a laugh, clearly having recognized her thinking face. “Your address?”

“Oh!” She leaned forward in her seat, directing her attention to the driver. “12 Rue Gotlib, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

Adrien’s face lit up in the rearview mirror. “That’s just around the corner from us!”

“Really?” She was reminded of that flash of déjà vu she had felt upon seeing his face for the first time. Maybe they had met before. Most people who lived in the 21st arrondissement got their baked goods from her parents’ bakery, and Marinette often worked the front counter. They must have had at least one encounter before as their civilian selves.

It was almost a shame.

She would have loved to know that her favorite person was just around the corner.

He tightened his grip on her hand as she turned back to face him. “Almost too good to be true,” he said, echoing her thoughts.

All lamentations of lost time were forgotten at that, and she chose instead to be happy in the moment they had now. She smiled, squeezing his hand back.

They were content to spend the short ride in comfortable silence after having spent the majority of their time together with endless conversations. Adrien’s bodyguard didn’t ask any questions after Marinette gave her address, so she saw no reason to try chatting with him when she could cuddle into Adrien’s arm instead. The world was pink and fuzzy, and the only leather pressed against her skin was that of the car seats. Feeling the rise and fall of Chat Noir’s breaths through warm cotton was a wholly different, welcome experience.

The ride was too short, however, and before she knew it, they had pulled up in front of her family’s bakery.

Adrien’s short intake of breath pulled her eyes upwards, and she noticed him staring at the sign with eyes full of wonder. “Whoa, you live so close to the boulangerie,” he noted.

Marinette grinned. “Well, yeah, I live above it,” she said, delighted when his head whipped back to face her. “My parents own it.”

His eyes looked about ready to bulge out of their sockets. “You do?”

She pointed to the sign. “And I designed the logo. Tom and Sabine Boulangerie,” —she turned the finger towards herself— “Tom and Sabine daughter.”

Adrien’s face was painted with the most excitement she had seen from him all day. “That’s so cool! They have the best macarons— I’ve had some at events when we get catering— and I’ve asked Nathalie a few times, but, well–” His face was a bit pink as he paused. “You’re amazing, Marinette.”

“I’ll have to bring you some macarons next time I see you,” she giggled.

His eyebrows danced over his eyes. “Now I know why you’re so sweet.”

“Oh, hush.” She lightly shoved his shoulder. “Takes one to know one.”

Following some pointed clearings of the throat from the driver’s seat, they eventually got out of the car and Adrien walked her to her door. She left him with a quick kiss and a promise to text him later.

The remainder of the day went by in a blissful blur. Dinner, homework, and television with her parents faded into the background as she slipped lovingly into her daydreams. Adrien was too busy to talk, but he had sent her a few hearts and memes throughout the evening, and she looked over all of them with her chest fit to burst. Before she knew it, it was time for bed and they were texting each other good night.

It wasn’t until the next morning that Marinette realized the true shift the world had undergone.

The incessant buzzing of her phone was an unwanted wakeup call. Marinette blindly slapped her hand against the mattress until her fingers met the smooth plastic of her phone case. She slowly cracked her eyes open as the screen lit up again with notifications.

New Message - 🦊Alya🔥(32), Missed Call - 🦊Alya🔥 (2), New Message - Adrien ♥️🐈

Wondering what was so desperate for Alya to be blowing up her phone so early, Marinette quickly responded to Adrien’s “Good morning <3” in kind before opening the floodgates. She was immediately treated to a number of news articles, all caps messages, and photos. Photos of her and Adrien.

Her fingers flew through the slideshow of photographs: Adrien waiting alone with those ridiculous sunglasses, herself haphazardly draped over the table, Adrien kissing her hand, the both of them stepping into his car. She paused on one of the last photos. It was of the two of them, hand-in-hand as they waited for their ride. Adrien’s soft eyes that had mesmerized her up close were just as soft from a careful distance.

She blinked rapidly as she processed it all.

How did Alya get these?

Scrolling back up in her conversation history with Alya, she looked at the articles again, scanning over the headlines: “Adrien Agreste - Dating?” “Adrien Hits the Town with Mystery Girl!” “Who Caught the Eye of Adrien Agreste?” “Agreste Son is Growing Up!”

…Agreste?

The conversation shot down to the bottom as another text from Alya came in: CANT BELIEVE YOU DIDNT TELL ME????

Faster than she could process, Marinette swiped away from her messages to plug “Adrien Agreste'' into her search engine. A shocking thousands of images popped up, all of her boyfriend in various poses and campaigns— including one with the bowler hat she had designed for a competition run by Gabriel Agreste.

A banner notification popped up at the top of her screen, Marinette’s finger tapping it automatically.

Adrien ♥️🐈: I have a photoshoot until around noon, but do you want to get ice cream after?

Marinette dropped the phone as everything suddenly became clear.

Perhaps maybe their civilian relationship wasn’t about to be quite as low-key as she thought.

#ml fic #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #ladynoir #love square #miraculous #ml #this is very unserious #i wanted the first fic of the new year to be Serious but we are starting it GOOFY okay #my writing #it's just all dramatic irony in here

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ekale · 7 months

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All I want as a writer, is to someday read fanfiction of my oc’s

#writeblr #writing memes #writing #oc meme #fanfic #tumblr memes #meme humor #silly goofy mood #sillyposting #haha funny #hehe

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pettyartist · 4 months

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Been reading more fic again recently and I realized some of my favorite fics have the dumbest premises and I love them for it. Honestly, they're half the reason I clicked the link for the fic in the first place.

And like, sure, some of these make no logical sense or have easy solutions that irl you'd fix them but where's the fun in that?

There was only one bed? -slaps your smartphone out of your hand- stop looking for an airbnb.

They eat a fruit that causes them to blurt out their innermost secrets and they don't know if the other actually heard or remembers what they said? I don't care that this plant doesn't exist, it does for the purposes of this story.

They are in a competition to see if they can woo someone before someone else can but, no, they don't have feelings for them really nope never it's definitely just to see if they can do it? -plugs my ears- I can't hear you telling me how silly it is.

Main characters are handcuffed together for a whole week? Shh, put down the bolt cutters this is funny I wanna see where it goes.

Moral of the story is, don't let your logical side tell you that your writing prompt is silly or that it needs to make sense or be logical-- Live cringe die free have a happy reader in me

#fanfic #fic #To all the writers out there who wanna write goofy stories that make no sense I gotchu #I am in your corner pumping you up and giving you the most powerful gatorade #go beat up that logical brain

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icycoldninja · 11 days

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here is an idea: DMC 3 Dante x Fem hunter reader where they are dating/demon hunting partners, she falls pregnant and dose not know until when she is on a mission and she goes into labor meaning her BF (Dante) needs to deliver there baby and comfert her (example: calling her a good girl and praising her) away from the demons

OK first of all let me just say something real quick--there is physically, scientifically, and biologically no way you can get pregnant and be completely oblivious about it until labor. What about missing your period? What about hormonal and weight changes? What about pains, aches, and cramps? What about the extremely noticeable tummy growth? This whole thing is gonna be ridiculously illogical, but I'll still do it. Enjoy. 💜

Sudden labor (DMC3! Dante X Fem!Pregnant!Reader)

You and Dante had been dating for a few years now, being loyal partners both in regards to your relationship and to your job. You hunted demons together by day and passionately made love to one another by night.

One day you two sent out together on a mission to exterminate a massive clan of demons that had taken a liking to a particular forest not too far from a moderately populated city. You and Dante were doing just fine at first, relentlessly chopping down and shooting holes through creatures without end. Everything was going perfectly well, until suddenly, you felt a sudden and sharp pain shoot through your stomach. It wasn't a stomachache, it wasn't period cramps, it wasn't like anything you'd ever experienced before. It was so painful, it brought you to your knees. You dropped your weapons, collapsing onto the ground, crying out in pain. Dante heard you, and fearing that you'd gotten attacked, rushed to your side in an instant.

"Babe, what's going on? You alright?" He asked, worriedly.

"I--I don't know! It hurts...everything hurts!" You suddenly became aware of something runny trickling down your legs, and you looked down, only to find a mixture of blood and other fluids leaking out of your privates. "What the hell?!" You shrieked, fearfully. "What's happening to me?!"

"It looks like you're in labor!" Dante screamed. "How did--?! What--?! How the hell is this possible?! How come we didn't realize you were pregnant before?!"

"I don't know!" You replied, panting heavily. "What do we do?!" Dante answered you by scooping you up and carrying you to a location far, far away from the (slowly dying) demons and carefully set you on the ground. After removing your bottoms and taking a quick glance at your contracting vagina, he realized there was no time to get you to a hospital. You'd have to give birth here.

"OK," Dante began, taking deep breaths. "Uhh...push. Yeah, push. That's how you deliver a baby, right? Push!" You nodded, and though the pain was intense, you grit your teeth and pushed through as hard as you could.

"Good job," Dante encouraged, patting your shoulder with trembling hands. "You're doing great. Keep going. Stay strong. You're ok. Good girl--you're doing alright. Keep pushing." You could tell by his frantic, stammering speech that Dante was just as terrified and anxious as you were, given the sudden nature of all this, but he did his best to stay calm and collected so you could have someone to lean on.

Confused, frightened, and in so much pain, you continued pushing hard, and eventually heard a hollow pop, followed by a small cry.

"Oh my God!" Dante shouted, diving down to scoop up the baby that had just slid out of your uterus. "You did it, babe! You--you gave birth! You gave birth!" You let out an exhausted chuckle, flopping back against the ground with a sigh. Your newborn baby cried and failed about in Dante's arms, making him smile. Even though it was under really strange circumstances, you two now had a baby! Hooray!

"Is...is it a boy or a girl?" You asked, gratefully sucking in deep breaths of air.

"Y'know what?" Dante replied, sounding unsure. "I have no freaking clue. Let's go to the hospital and ask the doctors."

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reversedanatomy · 4 months

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Finding Peace: Chapter 3

Summary: Reader and Darcy go to the bookstore and talk about R's big plans.

TW: swearing, talking about relationship issues

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, fixing your hair after your morning shower and applying your skincare routine. First came toner, then serum, eye cream, lotion, and finally sunscreen. It was therapeutic the way you patted each application into your skin. You especially spent time pressing the eye cream into your eyebags, naïve to believe you’d relieve those dark circles in a matter of seconds.

You finished by brushing your teeth and scrunching leave-in conditioner into the mids and roots of your hair. You glanced into your own eyes through the mirror and forced a smile. Your daily routines made you feel secure, pretty, and slightly more confident despite your persistent anxiety.

You used to insist that Wanda should join you for every morning routine. You both had different wake-up times, but often she’d roll out of bed with a grunt to join you for a few moments of companionship. You two used to shower together, sharing the intimacy that came with massaging shampoo and conditioner into each others’ hairs. After, you’d both wait for the steam to defog from the mirror. You two would watch your reflections unveil as you laughed and hugged and shared kisses in the relaxation of your bathroom’s humidity.

Bargaining. You clutched the corners of your bathroom counter and felt tears begin to well from the corners of your eyes. You missed the routine, the intimacy, and the love so, so much. You weren’t religious, but if a god could bring Wanda back, you’d pray and pray and pray to them until they answered your calls. I’d give anything, you thought to yourself. I’ll go to church, I’ll go to therapy, I’ll deal with the drinking, I won’t complain about how bad it gets, you began brainstorming everything you could do to absolve yourself in the eyes of a higher being. Maybe then they’ll reward you with a visit from Wanda. Then we could talk, you continued as the tears asymmetrically fell from your eyes. Maybe then we could work things out and I could apologize for everything.

You brought the back of your hand to your eyes and wiped the tears. The sunscreen from your eyes intermingled with your tears, burning your eyes. You couldn’t help but shake your head, letting out a chuckle of disbelief as the stinging from your eyes caused you to wince. You reached for where your hand towel normally was but grabbed nothing. It was laundry day, and you messed up again by washing your hand towels without any backup.

You’d wait out the stinging by stumbling to your bedroom to dress yourself. You traced your fingers along the walls to exaggerate your minor, temporary blindness. You pulled a t-shirt laying on the top of your dresser and dabbed your eyes. A few heartbeats later, the stinging stopped, and you could make sense of your surroundings.

Your head was cloudy from all the memories of Wanda that pooled to the surface of your thoughts. What made everything worse was that the t-shirt you were holding was Wanda’s. It was from a band you two had seen together last summer. “For fuck’s sake,” you threw the shirt against the wall behind your dresser and turned towards your closet to put together an outfit for the day.

It took you some time, but you settled on a collection of neutrals to compliment the coming winter. You wore a form-fitting white t-shirt, a sherpa-lined brown jacket, and baggy blue jeans. Since the temperature was dropping, you pulled a yellow beanie over your head. You’d finalize the outfit with your white high-top sneakers.

You headed to the kitchen to begin brewing your first mug of coffee for the day. It was 10:11 in the morning. Darcy’s apartment was a 25-minute walk from your apartment, so you needed to leave in a little over an hour to make it on-time for the plans you had at the bookstore. You waited for your coffee to brew by grabbing a quick snack from the pantry. You had your coffee and ate light, assuming Darcy would want to go out for lunch later in the day.

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

The cold air bit against your skin as you strolled through the streets of Chicago towards Darcy’s apartment. You tucked your chin down to keep the air from numbing your face and reddening your cheeks. You didn’t think it was going to get this cold so early in the year. It was barely November, but it felt like early January. You clenched your arms against your body, hugging your jacket into you.

You arrived outside Darcy’s apartment complex at five-before noon. She lived in an old brick apartment building along a side street that stretched up only three stories. It was a small building, tucked away from the main roads to provide a preferable quietness when living in a bigger city. There were two large windows that peeked into the lobby, revealing old wooden walls and muddy carpet. It was… cute. You reached for your phone and quickly sent Darcy a text stating you were waiting outside. It was read almost immediately. Darcy replied she’d be out soon.

“You look gay,” Darcy shuffled out of the apartment lobby and met you by the front entrance.

“Is it the shoes?” You promptly replied, glancing down and clicking your heels together.

“Sure,” Darcy laughed and leaned in for a hug. You received it warmly and the two of you started towards the bookstore. Darcy originally picked her apartment based on how close it was to the nearest bookstore. She played it off like she needed easy access to textbooks for her studies, but you often found her staring a little too long in the romance fiction aisle. As if clockwork, Darcy added, “I’m glad you agreed to go to the bookstore with me, Y/N. I needed some new textbooks for school.”

“Aren’t you only halfway through your term?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Darcy shrugged.

“Can’t have too many books,” she replied, puffing her cheeks. You rolled your eyes and kept your gaze down towards your feet. There was an uncomfortable silence, one where you knew that Darcy was holding in her questions. You refrained making eye contact with her. You were worried she would catch on to the stiffness in your posture that came as a side salad to your anxiety.

You two rounded the corner several blocks down and reached the bookstore on the main road. Its grand appearance always caught you by surprise. You weren’t a big reader anymore, but you always enjoyed the hospitable ambiance of new and well-loved books lining aisle after aisle. You didn’t need to be a reader to fall in love with the solitude.

You turned to Darcy, who was well-acquainted with this bookstore already. She’d been living in the area for years, so she frequented it often for whatever she needed. She pulled you inside and led you immediately to the section on foreign languages. “I haven’t really been in this section, so forgive me if I can’t help you much,” she said as she started checking the shelves.

“You’re fine,” you smiled warmly. “I just appreciate you coming with me.” Darcy was quick to look for the books you needed, so you joined her immediately. You scrolled your fingers along the titles of the books, scanning for the letter “N.” You couldn’t find much until you came across a small English-Norwegian dictionary tucked away between books on Mandarin and Portuguese. Darcy perked up towards you when she saw what you pulled from the shelves.

“Oh, shit, you found one?” She met you by your side. “Is that all they have?” She looked up from the dictionary you were holding and rechecked the shelves. She let out a small, “huh” and came back to you.

“If it’s the only one, then maybe it’s a sign,” you leafed through the book. Darcy’s demeanor fell quiet, and she held her arm with her other hand.

“So… do you really want to move away?” Darcy’s eye’s started anxiously scanning the books lining the shelves. You closed the dictionary and stared at your shoes.

“Yeah. I told you. I think it’ll be good for my mental health to get away.” Silence. You could feel your heart stuttering against your chest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between Wanda and I, and I really want to just start over in general. I know I didn’t open up much about what happened between her and I, but it really fucking ruined me-“

“Y/N…”

“-and I haven’t been able to eat properly, think straight, sleep, or anything. I’ve been missing her so much.” You brought your hand to your mouth and held back your tears. “I’m sorry. Every time I think about her, I just get emotional. I don’t know what to do except leave.” Darcy put her hand on your arm in a nervous attempt to console you, but you were already in the process of breaking down.

“Hey. It’s going to be okay,” Darcy smoothed her voice out and gently traced her thumb along your arm. You nodded, sniffling. Clutched in your hand was the dictionary. You stared at the words and imagined yourself in Norway. You pictured a life in that small, unnamable town, surrounded by mountains that stretched over the horizon. You could almost breathe in the fresh, cold air that hinted at the coming of the first frost.

“If I move there and it doesn’t work out, you have my full permission to tell me you told me so,” you glanced at Darcy from the side of your eye.

“And if it does work out,” Darcy pushed away from you with a smile, “I get first dibs on knowing what kinda girls you’re taking home. I heard the redheads there are really cute.” You squinted your eyes in half disgust, half denial. Darcy was always right, though. Who’s to say that she wouldn’t speak this luck into existence?

“You’d get first dibs on knowing everything regardless,” you reassured her. You lifted the dictionary up into her line of sight and gave it a small shake. “We should really check out, though, unless you need to get those textbooks you were talking about.”

“It’s only halfway through the semester. I think I’ll be fine.” Darcy lifted one finger, signaling for you to wait. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. “If you’re going to move to Norway, though, we should at least take some pictures of your baby steps. Momma’s proud of you, y’know.” You wanted to throw up, but this was Darcy, and this was the reason you stayed so long in this friendship.

“Fuck, fine, but you’re using my phone. Your camera quality is shit, and, if we’re creating memories, I’d at least like to be able to recognize myself when I look back on them twenty years from now.” You reached into your coat pocket and produced your phone. “Also, there’s still no guarantee I’ll be moving there.”

Darcy took your phone with a grunt and told you to line up against the bookshelves with your new dictionary. You looked like a child at her first day of preschool, only taller and more butch. Darcy held up the phone. “Say cheese.”

Ding.

“Um. Y/N?” Darcy lowered your phone and you saw her swipe at a notification. You suddenly felt off.

“Yeah?”

“That was your email. You got a notification. That Norway job wants to schedule an interview.”

You felt breathless.

#maybe ill actually start introducing nat next chapter #or maybe i'll just make more silly goofy hints #or maybe i'll just actually write a novel length POS bc idk shit about writing but i know how to make it long #marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel wlw #wlw marvel #natasha romanov #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #wandanat #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #slow burn

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w0rm-3nthus14st · 3 months

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had to write this once i saw this image, this is canon to me

#not art #writing #homestuck #john egbert #dave strider #pesterlog #fanfic #just silly goofy stuff

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diazsdimples · 4 months

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Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz @daffi-990 @hippolotamus and @thewolvesof1998, please go check out all their wips!!

It's still Tuesday for another hour and a half so I'm gonna call this a win. Enjoy a bit of cute dad!Buck from Single Dads AU.

Lily begs to be carried back into the house, much to Buck’s amusement. “What, don’t your legs work anymore?” he asks as he hoists her out of her car seat, making a big show of groaning as he pretends to strain under her weight. “Nope,” Lily giggles as she loops her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder, “they’re all tired from school.”

It’s the biggest load of bullshit Buck’s heard – he watched her sprint towards him at pickup so he knows those legs are anything but tired – but he also knows that his little girl isn’t going to be little for much longer so he allows her this indulgence. Even if Carrie’s rolling her eyes from the other side of the car. “Well, how about we get a snack for you two little vultures and then we can think of something fun to do this afternoon?” It’s a struggle to unlock the door one handed, with his other arm holding Lily to his hip with her schoolbag dangling precariously from two of his fingers and it’s not until he drops the keys that Carrie offers to help. She’s still a little short and has to get onto her tiptoes to reach the high lock but she manages it, looking very proud of herself as she steps back to allow Buck through the now-open door. “You’re so clumsy, Dad,” Carrie teases as she chucks her bag on the ground and kicks off her shoes, sprinting into the kitchen. “Hey, shoes and bag away nicely please!” Buck calls after her and Carrie slinks back into the hallway moments later, looking slightly sheepish. “And I was carrying your sister. I’d like to see you trying to open that lock one handed.” Unsurprisingly, considering she’s Buck’s daughter, Carrie takes that as a challenge. She swipes his keys from the counter and skips outside before Buck has time to yelp at her and pauses, hovering by the door. “If I can do it one handed, can I stay up with you tonight?” Buck sends her a flat look. “Carrie, it’s a school night. And how will I know you’re not cheating hmm?” Carrie puts on her best offended look. “I never cheat.” Yeah right. Buck’s seen her cheat at cards plenty of times. It’s an annoying habit she’s picked up from Chim.

Tags below the cut

No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @puppyboybuckley @cal-daisies-and-briars @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @watchyourbuck @rainbow-nerdss @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @wikiangela @smilingbuckley @evanbegins @tizniz @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @housewifebuck @bucksbackwardcap @exhuastedpigeon @steadfastsaturnsrings @buckbuckgoose @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life @nmcggg

#i love writing this man with his girls #they're just so silly and goofy together #and his kids are like carbon copies of him #single dad buck #single dads au #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 buddie #911 fanfic #911

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wolfywolfy · 1 month

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Just a reminder that I have an ongoing fic of these two on AO3! Here's the warnings and (brand new!) summary below:

WARNINGS: blood, manipulation, sex, mentions of trauma, violence and gore in some chapters (will be stated in chapter notes), sometimes there will be angst, the idiot gets cared for

Primrose is a druid, tree-hugger, and the de facto leader of their merry little band of tadpooled misfits. She's been completely isolated from society, living alone in the woods for who knows how long, and given her naivety, Astarion figured she was raised by wolves.

Regardless, being a leader means she is a sturdy foundation for himself to latch on to, if he can manipulate her to care for him. She's prone to waxing poetics and altruistic to a fault, the perfect victim for his ministrations – so imagine his surprise when she turns out to be more complex than he gave her credit for.

Why, exactly, has she been hiding from society? Prim carries herself as if she would never do any wrong, but when provoked, she's shockingly deadly. The more time he spends with her, the more he has a suspicion that there's something dark lurking beneath the surface…. Perhaps it's time to find out.

This fic updates weekly! It starts off kind of like sequential drabbles, but has turned into a larger overarching story that I'm excited to share!! 🫶 No joke, I have 60,000+ words for this in the doc right now, I'm just forcing myself to take my time with posting it so I can be consistent lol

Link to AO3 below, feel free to comment and/or ask me any questions you might have! I hope you like it 💜

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mkstrigidae · 11 days

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Coming back from the dead is the kind of thing that can really fuck up your weekend, as Jon has recently found out (especially considering that he’d paid a mint for those concert tickets, thanks). On one hand, the bureau paperwork is horrifying, and the less said about his skyrocketing health insurance premiums or this year's taxes, the better. On the other hand, though, Sansa Stark, the pretty head of the medical/pathology research division and long-time object of Jon's affections, has insisted on giving him her utmost attention until she’s sure he’s back on his feet and fully among the living.

#my writing #my fics #jonsa fic #jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fanfiction #got fanfic #a small goofy slightly gory oneshot of a workplace comedy?#Idk sometimes you just write something purely for yourself because it makes you personally laugh #weirdly this is one of my more romance-centered stories #despite the fact that it spends a lot of time talking about the biological implications of having been dead #like Jon does die but he also gets better right away so nobody is angsting about it #modern AU #Modern AU with magic and the paranormal #Sansa as a pathologist/medical researcher for a vague paranormal/magic government agency #Jon as a unit chief for paranormal artifact acquisition #(i.e. he's indiana jones but with paperwork)#Sansa and Qyburn as rival medical researchers who fucking hate each other #I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing AND editing and this was a good exercise plus it was also just fun to write #i make no promises about the biological accuracy of the symptoms of reanimation but it makes for a funny background thing #Melisandre as the bureau necromancer and resident office gossip

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skyward-floored · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 18: Blindfold, Tortured for information

So today’s is actually a little goofier, and a bit of zelink snuck in, but hey! It’s nice to mix things up 👍

I also had the prompt “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened” in mind while writing this and you can tell lol

Read on ao3

Warnings: injury, blood, concussion, torture-y elements.

————————————————————

Warriors couldn’t see.

He grunted in frustration, trying to rub his face on his arm so he could knock his blindfold loose, but no matter what he did, the coarse fabric stayed where it had been tied while he was unconscious.

He was sore, his head ached from where it had been struck, and his arms hurt where they were bound behind him, but the lack of sight was what was bothering him the most, not being able to see making his skin crawl.

It... bothered him more than he would prefer to admit.

“Hero.”

Warriors stiffened, trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. Multiple sets of footsteps echoed around the chair he’d been tightly bound to, making the sound difficult to pinpoint, but he could tell when a pair of them stopped right next to him.

“You have something we want,” the voice continued from much closer, and Warriors let out a chuckle.

“Oh yeah? Well you already took all my stuff, if you can’t find whatever it is, then that’s on you.”

Something connected with his ribs, and Warriors let out a grunt, unable to brace himself since he couldn’t see the blow coming. So it’s going to be like that, is it?

“What we want isn’t an item,” a different voice said, sounding annoyed. Good. “It’s information, that only a select few are in possession of.”

“Are you going to just keep me in suspense, or tell me what you want already?” Warriors drawled, and he expected it this time when he was struck again, even harder.

It still hurt though.

“Listen well, Hero, I will not repeat myself,” the first voice growled, and Warriors froze as a hand grabbed his face. Nails dug into his chin, and he hissed in pain. “We want to hear everything you know about Princess Zelda.”

Warriors felt his blood run cold.

“...What?” he asked, and bit back a cry as another hit landed on his middle. At this rate they’re going to break something.

“Princess Zelda. You work closely with her, you must know all of her powers, her weaknesses,” the voice snapped, releasing his face. “We want to know it all.”

“And why on earth would I tell you anything?” Warriors growled, and the voice went silent.

“Because you have no choice.”

Warriors’ head snapped back as a blow hit his face, and before he could even begin to recover, something sharp was pressed to his cheek, the tip of what had to be a dagger sending a little spark of fear through his chest.

“Fine! Fine you want to know about Z— the princess?” he said, and the knife eased a bit. “Okay. Well first of all, she’s great with basically every weapon she picks up, sword, bow, spear, she can do it all. She always wears pink but her favorite color is actually blue, about the color of my scarf which you’ve so kindly taken from me actually, she’s one of the best musicians I’ve ever heard, her eyes sparkle like Lake Hylia on a clear day, and when she sings, wow you fellas are missing out, oh, and Zelda isn’t her full name, it’s actually Princess Zelda Artemisa Lyra—”

“Shut up!” Someone roared, and the knife dug a line right below the blindfold across Warriors’ face.

He cried out in spite of himself, pain burning across his cheeks and nose, and the hand grabbed his chin again, sharp nails actually digging into his skin this time.

“That information is useless,” the voice hissed, and Warriors smirked, despite how badly his face hurt.

“You wanted to know about Zelda. I delivered.”

“Not her eye color,” the voice spat, and Warriors shrugged his aching shoulders.

“Well you should’ve been more specific then,” he said easily, then yelled as something hit his ribs, hard.

Something cracked, and Warriors doubled over as much as he could with how he was tied up, gasping as his chest lit up in pain. That had definitely broken something that time.

The hand was back at his face again, and Warriors coughed, feeling blood trickle down his cheek.

“Tell us your Princess’s weaknesses,” the voice said more calmly, and when Warriors didn’t say anything, the knife was dragged along his cheek again without warning.

Warriors bit back a cry, and felt his breathing speed up as the knife let up, then sliced him again in a new spot.

“Or we will cut you up until the only part of you that can move is your mouth, so we can hear every single way your cursed princess can be defeat,” the other voice hissed, and Warriors coughed out a laugh.

“Nice. Very... very dramatic. Only one problem with that,” he breathed, tasting something metallic on his tongue. “Zelda doesn’t have any weaknesses.”

His head was slammed backwards into the wall.

Sparks of light shot into his vision, and he might’ve cried out, but he wasn’t sure through the odd high-pitched sound that had filled his head up like one of the Champion’s octorock balloons.

I wonder how he’s doing... he thought blearily, wondering vaguely if the nausea that had suddenly made itself known was going to make him sick. Since he was closest when I got caught...

The high-pitched sound began to die down, and Warriors heard some other sounds through it, talking sounds.

Right... right. Right. He needed to focus.

Zelda might be in trouble.

He strained his ears, trying to focus through the pain pounding across the back of his head, and breathed in a little unsteadily. For some reason, breathing was awfully tricky.

“...hear how he called her Zelda?” one voice said, and Warriors tried even harder to focus through the ringing in his ears in order to listen. “I think perhaps the Princess has a weakness after all... the Hero.”

Warriors felt a bright ball of fear drop into his stomach.

“Sh... she cares nothing for me!” Warriors tried to shout, but his voice caught on the words, and he coughed out something thick in his throat. “You won’t... it won’t...”

The spinning and pain in his head and the ringing in his ears was suddenly too much, and Warriors felt a darkness sweep over him, despite how he resisted.

Something might’ve grabbed his face again, but Warriors slipped away before he heard any of the words they spoke.

Zelda... don’t do anything stupid for me...

(...)

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he came to, but when Warriors opened his eyes, he was still blindfolded.

And his head still hurt like a moblin had been using it as a set of drums.

He let out a low groan, and realized he was on the ground somewhere now, his cheek pressed against grass. The fact that there was grass against his face and not something else was important he thought, but he couldn’t remember or focus enough to figure out why.

He wished he could see.

A boot suddenly set itself on his side, and Warriors’ breath hitched a little, the action sending a pang through the sharp ache in his middle. Why did his head and middle and everything hurt so much?

It was as if the answer was hovering just out of reach, and no matter how he jumped for it, he couldn’t grab hold.

...Was somebody talking?

Warriors strained his ears, and heard several different voices, some lower, and higher, and scratchy, and more commanding...

They went quiet suddenly, and Warriors frowned. Why had they stopped?

The boot sitting lightly on his side suddenly stomped down, and a scream was ripped from Warriors’ throat, pain flashing up his entire side and middle and making his vision white out with stars.

The talking might have started up again, but Warriors couldn’t hear it over the agony burning through his chest, worse than his head, worse than his face. A loud noise sounded nearby and the weight of the boot disappeared, but Warriors couldn’t even focus enough to wonder why.

His world had narrowed down to pain, slow and freezing and hot and fast, switching back and forth so quickly he could barely stand it.

He coughed, something warm spattering on his cheek, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

A sudden crashing sound came from nearby, one oddly familiar. Despite how it made the pain increase, Warriors listened carefully, trying to identify it. It kept happening, over and over as Warriors listened, and he suddenly realized it was two swords, hitting against each other.

But who’s swords? Who’s fighting? he wondered desperately, and winced when a much louder crash rang out.

He really wished he could see.

“Link!”

A couple sets of footsteps sounded by his head, and hands tugged at his bound wrists and ankles, then near his hair, pulling at the coarse fabric. He froze, and all of a sudden the blindfold fell away, Warriors finally able to see again.

He blinked in the nearly blinding sunlight, squeezing his eyes shut before slowly cracking them open again. Something shaded his eyes, and Warriors looked up at golden hair and blue eyes the color of Lake Hylia.

“Arte... Zel..?” he said dizzily, and the worried look she’d been giving him was replaced with a small smile.

“Yes. We’ve got you Link, just hold on while somebody grabs a fairy.”

Warriors blinked up at her, his vision swimming a little. Wow. Had Zelda’s voice always been that pretty? He wasn’t sure. He should probably tell her.

“Oh geez, yeah that’s a concussion,” somebody who wasn’t Zelda commented, and Warriors honestly had no clue who it was. “Unless he usually goes around complimenting your voice?”

“Not normally, no,” Zelda replied, a bit of her hair falling in her face. The sun caught it and made it light up into a brighter yellow, and Warriors tried to raise a hand and touch it. It didn’t really work.

“Hair’s glowing?” he mumbled, and heard a stifled laugh. “‘S pretty. I ever tell y-you... Arty... you’re pretty?”

Artemis blinked at him in surprise, and this time there were a few ooohs along with the stifled laughs that went up from the people he couldn’t recognize.

“Why don’t you tell me later, Link?” she said, and Warriors furrowed his brow as she carefully turned his head. Later? Why later? What was so bad about right now?

“Now, no, why wait?” he managed to get out, his chest aching again as somebody touched it. “You’re beautiful, you... your hair... Hair looks kind of... butter,” he said, confusedly, squinting. The color was pretty darn similar in his opinion, had Zelda ever noticed that? “...Butter color. ‘S butter in your hair?”

There was laughter that was much less muffled that time, and Artemis had an odd look on her face as somebody appeared next to her, something pink in their grasp.

“Alright Captain, here’s a fairy, hold still.”

“Hold who?” he said dizzily, but then the pink swirled all over his vision, sparkles like snow drifting over him. It moved so fast he could barely watch it, but the steady pound in his head began to fade, and the horrible burn in his chest eased considerably.

What felt like a soft wave washed over him, and it took with it almost all the fuzziness that was clouding his head.

He opened his eyes (he’d closed them?) with a sigh, and met Artemis’s eyes, a tiny bit of blood on her chin.

“Oh. Hi,” he said a little dizzily, and made to sit up. He couldn’t quite made it though, his head still a little heavy-feeling, and Artemis’s arms pulled him up, along with somebody else’s.

“Hi yourself,” Artemis said with a bit of exasperation, and as Warriors stared at her. Suddenly everything that had happened while he’d been tied to a chair came back, the questions and blows and a knife dragged along his face—

“Artemis,” he startled, and lurched forward to frantically study her face. “Are you okay? Those men were trying—”

“We know Wars,” Wind’s voice said kindly from nearby. “We took care of ‘em.”

Warriors blinked at him. “Really?” How much had he missed?

“Really,” Time said with a hint of amusement. “They are no longer a threat. You pretty much missed the entire battle.”

“...Oh.”

Warriors rubbed his head with a wince, trying to sort through his memories of the past half a day or so. His head throbbed unpleasantly, and he made the decision it could perhaps wait a bit until his headache died down. The others could probably fill him in... right?

“So, you gonna tell her highness she’s beautiful again?” Legend said innocently, and Warriors stared at him.

Maybe that’s not a good idea.

“...what do you mean again?”

Several snickers went up from the group, and Artemis gave his shoulder a careful squeeze, her hand still on his arm.

“You had a concussion,” she explained, and Warriors could swear she was blushing a little. “Still do, I believe. You... rambled a bit.”

Warriors felt heat rise in his own cheeks. “...What about?”

Artemis smiled, and she squeezed his shoulder again, sending a pleasant warmth up his arm.

“Nothing bad. I’ll tell you later,” she said with a mischievous look, and Warriors felt his cheeks darken even further for some reason. “But we should get you inside. The fairy helped, but I really don’t think you’re all the way healed yet.”

Artemis helped him stand then, and Warriors leaned heavily on her shoulder, his head spinning a little at the change in altitude. They began to walk, and Warriors drifted along in a bit of a haze, the others’ conversation floating around him.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” Artemis said suddenly, voice quiet enough not to be heard by the others. “When they dragged you out, we... we thought the worst.”

Warriors blinked back the ache behind his eyes, and smiled over at Artemis, trying to focus on her face.

“I’m alright,” he reassured, and squeezed her arm. “Glad you’re okay too.”

She sighed, and brushed some hair out of her face. “I was never in as much danger as you, Link. But thank you.”

A smile twitched onto her lips.

“And I think your hair looks a bit like butter as well.”

Warriors stared at her, and Artemis stifled a laugh as he spent the rest of the trip trying to figure out what on earth she meant by that.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu warriors #lu Artemis #linked universe fanfic #whumptober 2023 #day 18 #tortured for information #blindfold #writing from the floor #mild zelink #Warriors is loooopy #you can tell the exact moment I went from serious to goofy lol #hope you all enjoy anyway

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some-pers0n · 4 days

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Never forgiving Valve for giving Engineer the most in-depth and story-relevant backstory, having him be the grandfather of the creator of the life-extender machines, the son of the TFC Engineer, and establishing a key connection between the Conaghers and Elizabeth/Helen/Mann family, only to then relegate him to a supporting character, have him appear for only 10 pages in the main comics, and then never say or do anything

#sp-rambles #tf2 #tf2 engineer #I get it Soldier is the funny goofy haha guy but VALVE PLEASE THE OTHER MERCS EXIST #Literally Soldier is like the main character of these comics with how much he pops up and is relevant #Demo and Engie get shafted so much those guys deserved so much better #Heavy too #How many of those gags about Soldier being an idiot could've been spent on something related to Engie or Demo #Demo ain't even got his own comic his biggest break is in War! and he doesn't get some big iconic moment everyone likes #Justice for the Defense team I love them too much for them to be treated like this #Engie probably would've done *something* in comic 7 but let's be honest that thing's never coming out #Mostly pissed he's just oftentimes the straight-man supporting character in the comics and whatever #Loose Cannon was great I liked that bit with him being zapped by electricity and still treatening Blutarch #But othertimes he just???? Isn't really a character?????#Teething and biting at my enclosure as I continue to go back to writing fanfic about loosely defined characters

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warren-keplers-funk-band · 10 days

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writing kepcobi fanfic the way i see them is so fucking hilarious to me because i usually write from jacobi's perspective. and to literally any other person kepler is either reprehensible, annoying, barely tolerable, or just straight up goofy silly. but to my fucked up jacobi with all his misplaced loyalty and his complexes, he's like a mythical being. a terrible ruler on a twisted bloody pedestal at which jacobi worships like a dog. and it's so goddamn funny

#like i listen to kepler talk and he's all stupid dad jokes and metaphors and exaggerated stories #and even when he's being scary it comes off goofy as shit #and then i write jacobi SO WHIPPED #i can't help it #he's the audience (read: me) stand in #i get to simp vicariously through him without the judgement of being in love with kepler #listen #i #can't even explain myself actually #kepcobi #wolf 359 #warren kepler #daniel jacobi #fanfic

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traumxrei-archive · 2 years

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【 when the world stopped for you 】

summary: it's jamil viper's birthday and he isn't too enthused...until the prefect waltzes into his room, promising surprise and a magic carpet ride. and who was jamil to refuse such an offer?

author's note: welcome to my homage to jamil viper ! i did want to write a character study type of fic, but i thought he deserved some fluffy comfort for his birthday, so here it is, refreshingly late >:DD i hope you enjoy the fic ^^

characters: jamil viper x gn!prefect

word count: 2.5k

tags: happy birthday jamil viper !!, he's done w/ the prefect, but is he really if he likes them ?, they take a magic carpet ride "a whole new world style" (jamil is jasmine and prefect is aladdin lmao)

[ or read it on ao3 ! ]

Birthdays weren't something that Jamil celebrated. The memories of birthdays from his childhood were of his sister's small hands shaking him awake. The lamplight illuminating the kunafa his parents made, singing hushed songs before the work day started.

He would end up having one bite of the kunafa before rushing off to wake up Kalim for his morning lessons. The white-haired boy always had some magnificent gift waiting for him, which he always respectfully declined, no matter how much he wanted it. Because he was taught that 'it isn't polite to accept grand gifts from your master.'

Living in the Al-Asim household for so long, he had seen his fair share of birthday parties and banquets. It happened often each year, with each of Kalim's many siblings having their own parties every birthday. Even Kalim himself was known for hosting one of the most extravagant and beautiful parties for his birthdays back in Scalding Sands.

So it was to his surprise that he was the one getting the "birthday banquet" treatment at NRC. He knew how this went down. You get an outfit and a party after school was over. That was what happened last year. Yet he still couldn't get used to all the hustle and bustle.

Jamil stared at his own birthday outfit bitterly, the failures and mistakes of his second year stinging like a phantom wound. Certainly this was enough celebration. He already got enough birthday greetings to fill a jar, and he didn't even have to make breakfast. He didn't need a party on top of that.

Nonetheless, Jamil dutifully put on the suit, feeling the slide of cool fabric against his skin. Even if he didn't like the ritual, NRC had good taste in fabrics at least.

He had just slipped on the bolo tie when his door slipped open. He frowned, turning, "I thought I said no enteri–"

He froze when he saw the person standing at the door. Grinning widely, the Prefect waved, "Hey, birthday boy!"

Jamil winced, "Spare me, please."

"But I haven't seen you all day, senpai, and plus," They closed the door behind him before flopping next to his desk. "It is your birthday."

He rolled his eyes lightly as he fastened the rosette on his clothes, "It's not like I'm having the time of my life here."

"Right," They drawled, picking up one of the stray books on his table. "You're the type that hates when attention is all on you, huh?"

He stared at them pointedly before they laughed, "C'mon, at least appreciate all their efforts! They're kicking up quite the storm out there for your birthday."

Jamil stopped his movements, "Please tell me there aren't any animals."

"There are no animals."

"Prefect. Lying isn't good for you."

"Well, maybe I saw just one parrot–"

"That Kalim–"

They clapped, "Well, before you storm out, I have a proposal that I think you'd be interested in."

"A proposal?" Jamil huffed. "What, are you going to magically somehow make the party go away?"

There was a rustling sound that sounded awfully loud in the brief silence of the room. Jamil did a slow turn, seeing Kalim's carpet fluttering right next to the Prefect. There was a cheeky smile on their face as the looked at him.

"No."

"But I haven't even said anything yet!"

"Wait," Jamil held up a hand, effectively stopping their on-coming speech. "How did you even get to that? I thought I locked up it in the treasury."

"You see," They started, standing up to let the carpet wrap around them like a shawl. "I feel like Tassel has a sensor or something. It likes me quite a lot so it came to greet me when I was sneak— I mean, walking around."

"Tassel?" Jamil asked, watching as one of the carpet's corners shook in recognition. "You named the carpet?"

"Hey, Kalim liked the name," They pursed their lips as if offended. "Besides, the important part is that it likes the name. Now let's go already, or else it'll be too late."

"Late for what?" Jamil paid them no mind, instead reaching for his magic pen.

Which...wasn't there.

He let out a deep sigh, turning to see the Prefect dangling the pen from their grasp. He knew that they would go to great lengths to get things their way, using any trick that they could, yet...

"I guess Ruggie's lessons are working huh," They preened lightly at their achievement. "You didn't notice a thing!"

"That really isn't something to be proud of," He stood, approaching them. Well, it wasn't like he said 'no' in the first place. "So, where are we going?"

"Really? You're coming?"

Jamil looked away from that starry-eyed look of theirs, "Quickly now. Or would you like me to change my mind?" Now that got them moving, dragging Tassel into a prone position before helming the carpet.

"Before you ask, I got lessons from Kalim for this," They chimed in, patting the space right next to them. "So don't make this all for nothing." Jamil climbed on, reluctantly holding on to the flying carpet's edge.

With a few encouraging whispers to the carpet, the two set off into the darkening sky. The breeze that kissed his skin felt almost cool, heralded by the sun's dying light. And he couldn't take his eyes off the horizon.

"Hey, no looking!" They scolded over their shoulder. "It's no fun if you ruin the surprise!"

"Alright, alright," Jamil closed his eyes, holding on to the Prefect's shirt for purchase. "No need to yell." They really were something, asking him to ride blind on a magic carpet.

"You know, I feel like the thief from that story that Kalim told me about before," Their voice was closer, like they were sitting next to him." What did he say again? Ahem, 'Tell me, princess, when did you last let your heart decide'?"

"You're calling me the princess?" Jamil asked after a beat, confusing even himself when he indulged in their ramblings.

"I mean, I am playing the role of the thief, so naturally you're the princess," They snickered slightly. "Would you like me to serenade you too?"

If his eyes were open, he would've rolled them by now, "Just focus on getting us wherever we're going in one piece." And that was that, until Jamil felt their hand settle over his eyes as they came to a halt.

"Okay, ready?" They said, sounding like they were behind him now. "Take a step down, I'll guide you." Jamil could feel the heat of their hand at the small of his back, gently directing him as he took steps blindly on the sand.

"If sand ends up getting in my hair or this suit," He said in a warning tone. "You're going to be cleaning the Scarabia kitchens for a while."

"Yeah, yeah," They snorted; as if the possibility had never crossed their mind. "Just focus on walking, we're really close." The wind once again teased at his hair, ruffling the stiff folds of his suit jacket. He couldn't help but listen to the steady sound of their breathing, focusing on that and the yield of the sand underneath him.

And then he could see again.

His eyelashes fluttered as his world was set aglow once more, the sun's last rays clawing across the desert in a magnificent display. All above, the night sky desperately bled its colors into the day, as the night always yearns to be with its counterpart. At least that was what those fairytales told him. And now, he couldn't help but believe in it. He watched, entranced as the sun was swallowed by the horizon line, and as the moon rose, barely missing its counterpart by just a few seconds.

While the moment felt short to him, Jamil didn't know how long he stood there. He turned around, trying to find the shining shams to his muted qamar, and—

There they were.

Their face radiated with happiness, a delighted smile directed right at him. And just like how the sun's rays reflected off the moon, Jamil couldn't help but mirror it with his own smaller smile.

"Did you like my gift?" The words were spoken so softly that Jamil was sure it was the winds that carried them over to him; over the arm's length of space that valleyed between them.

"Wasn't it more like nature's gift to me?" Jamil couldn't help but feel the lightness in his shoulders as he bridged the gap, teasing on the tip of his tongue as he grinned.

"Hey, if I didn't convince you then you wouldn't have seen it!" They turned, and he followed entranced as they walked over the top of the sand dune. "You should give credit where credit's due." The last of the sun's light bathed them in petal red, making Jamil's heart beat harder against his ribcage as he realized that, oh. They were really that important to him all along.

"Let's go back to Tassel befo—"

The sand beneath them gave way, pitching their body over the edge of the dune. And Jamil lunged forward, his body crashing right into theirs and sending them both tumbling down the dune. He winced, drawing them closer to him as they kept falling at gravity's mercy, before finally slowing down to a slide.

A beat of silence spanned between them, punctuated by labored breathing.

"Jamil? Y-you good?" They coughed from where they were, still squished against his chest. He let go instantly feeling his face flame at their closeness.

"I'm...fine," Jamil groaned as pushed himself up on his elbows. They sat on their haunches, still halfway on his lap as they stared at him. His voice turned flat, "And you got sand in my hair. You got sand everywhere."

They laughed hysterically at that, throwing their head back, "Oh, man, I was thinking that maybe the roles got reversed, and you turned into the thief for a second, but...guess you're still the princess."

"This isn't funny," Jamil said, yet he felt the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. "I have a party to go to in a bit." He made no move to get up, finding the warmth of them comforting in the nighttime dessert.

"Well, isn't this celebration enough?" They asked, settling into a more comfortable position— now sitting on the sand, their legs monopolizing the space between his own as they faced him. "We've been celebrating you this whole time, after all."

His pulse jumped, "Since...since when have we been celebrating me?"

"Since I came to your room. The carpet ride, the sunset, walking up the sand dune, and even falling down the sand dune—while unplanned— it was all for you," They returned his stare unabashed. "Me being right here, right now...it's for you, senpai."

"...Thank you," The words were spoken in quiet, and this time the wind carried his words instead of theirs. It stirred up his loose hair and he couldn't care less at that moment. He had never seen such an earnest attempt at celebrating his birthday as the one that they had sprung on him.

"Hey, senpai..." They leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "Could I give you another present...?"

His gaze dropped instantly to their lips and he knew he was fucked. Oh Sevens. Oh Sevens, Jamil was absolutely ruined. He wanted to kiss them. He wanted them to give him a kiss. That was not good. He closed his eyes instantly when they leaned in a bit more. That was until he felt the press of something against his cheek.

His eyes flew open and he could see something that looked like a....snake plush right in front of his face. A snake plush. A plush. You had to be—

A shaky laugh tumbled out of his lips, "P-Prefect, I-I'm not...five."

"Hey, I thought it was perfect since it looks like you," They pulled the doll back making it nod. "Look, Little Viper, say hi to your predecessor."

"Did you just call that 'Little Viper'?" He stifled the fondness swelling in his chest even if the words weren't directed at him. Was it possible to feel envy for an inanimate object? Jamil really must've been going crazy.

"Would you rather I call it 'senpai' instead?" They were kidding, but Jamil was almost tempted to say 'yes'. Instead he took the plush from them, turning it in his palm. Okay, maybe it looked just a little bit like him. But he definitely wasn't going to admit it out loud.

"Now, let's get back before Kalim freaks out about you being gone," They held out a hand which Jamil immediately took. Tassel seemed to be floating just ahead of them, as if it was waiting for them to finish talking this whole time.

"And will you take responsibility for the sand?" He tugged at their entwined hands, drawing them just a little closer.

They blinked at him owlishly; strangely flustered, "Y-you mean the kitchen deal...right?" Sevens, what would happen if he leaned in and kissed them right then and the—

He patted their head, heat singing his neck once more, "Yes, I do. Now give me back my pen. I would like to maintain my reputation, at least amongst the other dorm members." They uncharacteristically handed him back the pen with no further gripes; something he attributed to their fluster earlier. He made quick work of the sand; the spell coming to him easily after years of practice, leaving them sand free in no time. He joined them on the carpet once more after fixing up his hair.

This time, he sat behind them, resting his chin against their shoulder as they drove. It was warmer that way, he decided to tell himself, trying not to notice how stiff the Prefect's shoulders were. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was...struggling with their feelings.

"Hey, Prefect," Jamil murmured lowly, his lips close enough to brush their ear. "Could I make a request?"

They flinched slightly before relaxing once more, "Mm? F-for your birthday?"

He clenched his fist as he spoke again, "In the future, I... Would it be okay if I..."

"I-If you...?" They asked, and Jamil could almost feel the quickening thud of their heart pressed against his front.

"Come with me on a trip in the future," Jamil decided. "I'll make sure you have fun." He settled for something simple. It would be too hard to voice those complicated feelings with careless words. And there would always be next time.

"Yes," They said quickly before letting out a short breath. "I mean. I would love to. As long as I don't have to save up too many thaumarks to go."

"It's a promise, sukkar," Jamil secretly smiled, hoping that they couldn't feel it from where he was leaning against their shoulder.

Maybe birthdays celebrated were not a waste of time. Maybe it was worth making a fanfare over for once. Maybe going on outlandish carpet rides with someone that makes his heart feel alive was exactly the way to celebrate those days. Maybe this was the way he wanted to celebrate his birthdays from now on.

All that he knew was that he would enjoy this moment while it lasted; before he was thrown into the party that would be thrown for him. And besides, if he needed a little break then...what was stopping him from stealing into the night with them once again?

tysm for reading ! i hope you enjoyed the fluff ^^ if you'd like to check out more jamil viper works, or otherwise, here's my masterlist :D

[ tiny factoids / translations for the fic !! ]

kunafa is a dessert that's made in many arab countries ! the dessert is comprised of a crispy layer of shredded pastry moulded around a cheese or cream filling. it's usually served straight from the oven with a healthy drizzle of sugar syrup :D writing this is making me want to eat it...but here's a link to a kunafa recipe for the curiouser !

qamar / shams : these two words mean 'moon' and 'sun' respectively in arabic. and as for the tale of the moon and the sun being lovers...it was a story that i heard when i was younger though i'm not sure of its origin (i'd love to know if someone does know ^^ drop by my ask box !!)

sukkar : haha. yeah, this basically means 'sugar' in arabic. it's jamil flirting with the prefect. arabic endearments are just 10x more romantic to me, especially from jamil <33

#/trau writes #jamil viper deserves more fluff #he deserves to have So Much Fun and happiness on his birthday #he deserves fun silly goofy fics #the title of this fic was from 'ballroom extravaganza' by dpr ian #i mean the lyrics are too good #'when the trees are all burning / and the stars will keep on turning / and i know i won't stop searching'#'for the moment when the world / stopped for you'#such emotions and feelings this song is #/trau fics #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland fics #twst fanfics #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland

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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months

Text

hahahaaaaa what if i dropped out of college and tried to figure out a way to publish my writing hahahahaaaaaaaaaaa

#i’m sick of the grind bro #sometimes i read popular published books and just go ‘my writing is similar. could i also get published???’#it’s such an exhaustive process tho 🥲#and self publishing is so fucking expensive #fuck man #i do Not Know what i’m doing with my life #ive got ONE party trick #and ive got ONE fantasy trilogy id consider publishing that isnt posted as fanfic #who knows #i’m just in a silly goofy mood

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aceghosts · 3 months

Note

[DISBELIEF]: after the receiver has done something completely unexpected (and reckless) the stunned sender cups their face in their hands while trying to get them to explain why the hell they did it. + Rooney x Yorinobu 💕

Thank you for sending in this prompt! I took some liberties with it while writing it, but I got it done!

[Prompt List]

Summary: In the parking garage after a dinner date, Rooney Shepard and Yorinobu Arasaka are attacked. The event (and Yorinobu's actions) leave Rooney feeling shaken. Title comes from Bring Me The Horizon's Kingslayer. Words: 2.4k Content Warnings: Just canon typical violence, and Rooney's perpetual fear of not being enough to save the people they love. Author's note: Coming up with Restaurant names fucking sucks. That's all.

Taglist (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @carlosoliveiraa, @captmactavish, @cloudofbutterflies92, @direwombat, @cassietrn, @voidika, @strangefable, @theelderhazelnut, @fourlittleseedlings, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @clicheantagonist

AO3

“What did you think?” Yorinobu asks, pleased with himself. Rare Vibes, an exclusive restaurant, was highly recommended and only served high-end clientèle like himself and Shepard. He looks over to his left, Shepard on his arm as they walk back to his car in the parking garage, a custom-designed Rayfield. They look gorgeous tonight, dressed in all black. Shepard seamlessly blended in with himself and others of similar status. Yet, even in a place like Rare Vibes, he could still see the soldier in them, ocean-blue eyes vigilantly scanning the restaurant for any threats to themself or Yorinobu. Tonight made him realize something important. What if this could be the duo’s life? A future where Shepard stayed, where they helped him take down Arasaka. That sounded magnificent.

“The food was good,” Shepard replies neutrally, leaving Yorinobu wondering what else they could possibly want, “could have used some hot sauce.” He shakes his head, a smile on his lips. Shepard was religious about their hot sauce. “There was something that I enjoyed more than the food.”

Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, he asks, “What would that be?”

They look at him with a slightly shy smile, their cheeks faintly red. “My favorite part of the night was spending time with you. I really enjoyed getting the chance to have a nice date with you like two normal people,” a second later, their smile turns to frown, “or as normal as it could be.”

“Shepard,” He places his hand over their hands, “Life with me will not be what you are used to, but I promise you that you can adapt to it.” Shepard’s frown deepens, seemingly uncomfortable with that fact. It is the reality of his life, and Shepard will need to adapt or leave. Yorinobu hopes that they will adapt to it, hopes that he is worth the temporary discomfort. “It will take time; it does not happen overnight.”

“If you say so.” The two lapse into silence as they continue towards the Rayfield. As the pair reach the car, only a few meters away, Shepard stiffens, their grip on his arm loosening. Yorinobu notices them stealthily looking around, trying not to raise suspicion as they survey the scene. He also knows the look on their face: their mouth set in a grim line and their eyes narrowed. Yorinobu has seen that look when watching Shepard participate in combat tests, focused and lethal.

“Is something the-?”

“Don’t,” Shepard keeps their voice low, leaning in so he will be the only one to hear them, “When you get in the car, call Arasaka Security and get the hell out of here.”

“Will you be in the car with me?”

“No, I won’t.” Yorinobu does not like the determined tone of their voice; he likes the idea of leaving Shepard behind even less. Why does he get the feeling that Shepard is going to do something reckless?

“Please don’t do anything rash.”

"No promises,” He catches a slight smirk before it disappears, a serious look returning as they slip out of his arm, “RUN!”

On Shepard’s command, he runs toward the car, only glancing over his shoulder once he reaches the car. Shepard roundhouse kicks an attacker in the face, sending them crashing towards the ground. Another attacker appears between two cars, rushing Shepard from behind. “Shepard!” He lets go of the car door, turning on his heel to go back to them.

“NO!” They yell, ducking to the left to narrowly avoid a punch. “GET HELP!”

Shepard is right. Despite wanting to run to them, he listens, knowing that he might be more of a burden. Yorinobu knows he can help them by bringing in reinforcements, namely Arasaka security. He would typically avoid Arasaka security, but permission to take Shepard out of the facility was to involve Arasaka Security instead of the police in case of emergency. Jumping into the open car, he turns it on, the door closing as he dials Arasaka security. “Yorinobu-sama, what is the nature-?”

He cuts them off, putting the Rayfield into drive. “Send an evacuation and combat team immediately. Shepard and I are under attack.”

“Yes, Yorinobu-sama. Please stay on the line. We suggest retreating to a safe distance if possible and allowing the combat team to handle this situation.”

And leave Shepard behind? Absolutely not. Wheeling the Rayfield out of the spot, Yorinobu catches sight of Shepard surrounded by three attackers. Their monowire glows a bright blue in the dimly lit parking lot as Shepard stares down their assailants. Shepard could handle this, but Yorinobu thinks that it is time for someone to even the odds. “No, send the team now.” He hangs up as the three start to advance towards Shepard. Pressing down on the gas, he speeds towards the three, sharply turning at the moment, drifting into the three attackers.

Shepard’s eyes widen as they jump out of the way, tucking into a neat roll as they land. One of the assailants quickly follows suit, but Yorinobu hits the other two. As the Rayfield slams into the attackers, it sends one flying into parked cars, leaving a dent on the hoods as they land. Car Alarms start blaring, headlights flashing. The other is sent straight into a concrete wall, leaving a dent as they slide down.

The Rayfield spins, slamming into another parked car. Yorinobu is dazed by the impact as the airbag ejects, the car groaning. A second later, the engine whines, followed by a death rattle. He catches his breath, his senses coming back to him. Yorinobu turns the key, hoping the car will respond. Instead, it sits silent, unresponsive as he tries a few more times.

CRACK! His head whips over in Shepard’s direction, fearful it might be them. Instead, an assailant screams, holding their knee as Shepard looms over them. Shepard swiftly ends the scream, their metal fist connecting with the attacker’s jaw in a mean left hook. They slump to the ground as Shepard looks up at him, fiercely glaring. “I thought I-.”

The other attacker, the one who landed on the cars, gets up, shaking their head. Mantis blades appear, glowing a sinister red. They launch themself at Shepard, who whips out their monowire, deftly dodging the attack. Yorinobu’s breath catches in his throat as he watches Shepard block the next attack, sparks flying as blade meets wire. Watching Shepard has always been mesmerizing, even more so in real combat. Shepard is a force of nature. Unyielding. Unrelenting. They’re almost a neon blue blur, dodging and attacking so quickly.

Heavy stomps draw his attention in another direction as Yorinobu realizes the third assailant is coming for him. Fuck! He needs to get out of the car. Now. To his left, the driver’s side door is pinned by another car, leaving it unable to open. Unclipping his seat belt, Yorinobu reaches for the passenger door, hoping it might open. He hears the click of the door, but nothing happens, leaving him utterly trapped. Grabbing Kongou from the glovebox, he aims the gun towards the attacker, flicking the safety off. Yorinobu will not allow himself to be easily killed. If anything, he will take his attacker with him. The attacker raises his arm, revealing a charging projectile.

Fortune favors him as Shepard looks over, realizing the situation. A ring of electric blue glows in their eyes, the telltale sign of a quickhack. (Yorinobu is glad that he convinced the team to allow Shepard to have a few quickhacks.) Their attacker screams, hands over her eyes. Shepard dashes away, towards him as his attacker draws closer, preparing to launch.

THWIP! The neon blue wire wraps itself around the attacker’s neck, flesh burning as electric volts course through him. Shepard pulls back on the wire, his attacker stumbling backward as the projectile fires. The missile soars over Yorinobu’s head, hitting the ceiling of the parking lot, some concrete tumbling to the ground. Shepard continues to pull his attacker back as the other one recovers. The other attacker, now recovered from the quickhack, launches themself at Shepard, blades raised.

Shepard dodges, whipping his attacker into Mantis Blades attacker, the two colliding. Both slam into each other, before eventually crashing into the ground. As Shepard readies themself for the next attack, loud sirens blare. “LAY YOUR WEAPONS DOWN NOW! ANY MOVEMENT WILL BE MET WITH FORCE!” Shepard retracts their monowire, raising their hand in surrender. Flicking the safety back on, Yorinobu sighs in relief, glad for them both to be alive.

—

It is nearly 3 AM by the time Shepard and Yorinobu return to the facility. During the questioning by Arasaka’s security team, Shepard has not looked at him once, answering most questions with a robotic and detached tone. Any that mention Yorinobu being attacked immediately sparks anger in Shepard’s voice. He also notices them hovering over him as the medical team inspects him, watching the team suspiciously. Following them down the hallway towards their room, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

Shepard stops suddenly, Yorinobu bumping into them. He steps back, opening his mouth to apologize as Shepard turns around to face him. They look furious as they cup his face tightly. Their hands are comforting, yet trembling slightly as they hold him. “What the hell were you thinking?” Shepard snarls.

He glares, anger rising within himself. “I hoped I could distract-.”

“What you did was reckless, dangerous, and stupid,” Shepard cuts him off, “You’re lucky that your little stunt didn’t leave you with a concussion or worse, and you’re even luckier that you didn’t get blown to smithereens. You should have listened to me; you should have left.”

Yorinobu cannot believe what he is hearing. “I am not stupid, Shepard,” He snaps, Shepard’s eyes widening slightly, “and, you cannot be suggesting what I think you are.”

They look slightly apologetic as they admit, “You aren’t stupid. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have called you that.” However, Yorinobu should know better than to think the lecture is over. “And yes, I am suggesting what you think I am. You should have left. Your priority should have been getting yourself to safety. You should have left the parking garage and headed back to the facility. Or the nearest Arasaka building. Or a police station. You should not have come back for me.”

“Why would you ask me to do that?”

“To protect you. To make sure that you survive.” Everything clicks into place. Shepard is not angry; they are terrified for him. He thinks back earlier to when Arasaka Security arrived. Shepard refused to let anyone look at them until he had been checked out, stubbornly insisting that they were fine. He also remembers how they hovered over him, watching carefully for any threat. Even now, he sees the sign of fear: their ocean-blue eyes look like a tumultuous ocean under stormy skies. They are trembling, holding his face like they are trying to reassure themself that Yorinobu is here and safe, that all of this is real. He knows what must be running through their mind. Shepard must have been terrified that they would have failed to protect him, to watch him die despite their best efforts. Another death in a long string of deaths that followed Shepard in their wake.

“Shepard,” He starts gently, “Were you scared that I was going to get hurt?”

They release his face, hands dropping down to their sides. Shepard nods, looking ashamed of their behavior.

He pulls them in for a hug, Shepard stiffening in surprise. A second later, they relax, wrapping their arms around his waist and burying their face in the crock of his neck. Stroking their dark red hair, he comforts them, “I am alive, Shepard, because of you. You saved my life tonight. You need not worry; you will not lose me.”

“I know,” They reply, voice slightly muffled, “I was just terrified that they might hurt you, and I would be powerless to stop it.”

“I trust you, Shepard. I know you will do everything in your power to protect me, and if tragedy happens, it will not be your fault.”

“Thanks," They sound unconvinced, but unwilling to argue with him, "Does that mean the next I tell you to run, you’ll listen?”

“On one condition,” Shepard pulls out of his arms, tilting their head in confusion at his request, “If you ask me to leave you behind, promise me you will come back alive.”

Their eyes widen, surprise flickering across their face. Eventually, Shepard softens, looking at him warmly with a soft red on their cheeks. “I promise I’ll come back alive.”

“Good.” Noticing Shepard seems exhausted as they try to stifle a yawn, Yorinobu holds out his arm for them, “Allow me to escort you back to your room.”

Shepard does not fight him, looping their arm through his as they rest their head on his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m beat. You must be too. If you want, you can stay the night.”

Smirking, he teases them, “Asking me to stay the night in your bed? I will need to find my way into danger more often.”

They roll their eyes, pretending not to be amused. “Yeah, now you’re getting the couch.” Shepard teases with a charming smirk.

“What if I am cold on the couch? What if I need someone to warm me up during the night?” He jokes back.

“You’ll just have to freeze,” They reply sarcastically.

“You would leave me to freeze? How cruel.”

Shepard laughs at his fake admonishment. “We could always get you an extra blanket.” “I would prefer you, and,” he adds with a knowing tone, “Arasaka couches are very uncomfortable. I will wake up sore. You would not do that to me, would you?”

They raise an eyebrow. “How would you know that?”

“I fell asleep on one.” Yorinobu had been jetlagged, falling asleep on one while waiting for a meeting. He was sore for a whole week afterward, unable to move without some part of his body aching.

“Yorinobu, are you sure it wasn’t because you’re an old man? The elderly need to be careful about the way they sleep.”

“Not that old, Shepard,” He retorts, “and very rich coming from someone into an older man.” “Touché,” they reply, “And I’m kidding. We’re going to share a bed. Can’t have you freezing to death or breaking a hip on my conscience.” Softly, they add, their tone more sentimental, “I’m really glad that you are okay.”

“I am glad that you are unharmed too, Shepard,” He presses a kiss to their head, truly glad for Shepard’s safety.

#kate writes #the rooney fic tag #commander rooney shepard #I won't let fear compromise who I am #OTP: It always comes right back to you #yorinobu arasaka x OC #v: cyberpunk 2077 #I'm not putting this in the main tags lol #kinda struggled with this one #but I finished #and I hope the ending comes across as teasing and goofy #and not cringy #but what I can say #you win some you lose some #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fanfic #cp2077 fanfic

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