OK BUT HEAR ME OUT ON THIS IDEA LOWKEY MIGHT BE A CRACKFIC BUT--
Corbeau x reader where reader is a member of Team MZ, and instead of just doing errands to help pay off their debt to the Rust Syndicate, chooses to propose to Corbeau(with the ENTIRITY OF MZ AS THEIR WITNESS) in hopes marriage will pay off the debt(whether or not he accepts is up to you!!)
@feralarchitect
Hahahaha oh damn. I'll give it a shot
Urbain won't be there though, because he's canonically MIA in this episode, and I'd like to retain that
The events that lead to the summon at Rust are a little foggy in my mind, so...
---
Mob Wife
(crack)
---
God, what a night. There's still a crick in your neck from staining it over a potted plant. Sneaking up to trainers? Easier said than done, but those Battle Cards really do rake in the Challenge Medals. You've already got a Challenger Ticket in your app, but there's a nice beanie that you've been wanting... Ten thousand pokedollars...
You sigh and give your shoulder a good stretch on the walk back to Hotel Z. Heck, a nap sounds good right now.
But that's a nap you never got to take.
Suspicious messages from unknown numbers, Urbain gone MIA, Lida freaking out, and Naveen... well he's still a downer.
While in full panic, Lida calls for a strategy meeting.
None of you have that kind of money. One million pokedollars? If you were anywhere close you wouldn't be busting your ass every night in battle zones just saving up for a new hat.
Even pooling together your funds, it could barely reach that amount.
A part of you wants to ask AZ for help, but it kind of goes against the whole thing Team MZ is trying to achieve, which is to help the hotel.
Urbain, what an idiot.
"What do you think they'll send us in for," Lida worries. "I don't know anything about Lumiose's underbelly. I'm just a dancer!" she declares. That last sentence rolls around in here brain and she suddenly furrows her brows. She turns to you and Naveen, desperate, "don't let me become a dancer in some seedy club..."
Pshh naw, you immediately refute, and Naveen assure her that there will be none of that. You don't even know the terms yet. But the terms might be hefty, considering the kind of money Urbain owes them.
Naveen slowly turns to you and starts, "This is a little wild but what do you feel about being a mob wife."
Outrageous! "So Lida is safe, but I'm for sale?" You raise a brow at the tailor in challenge. Quitting is at the tip of your tongue.
"No, hear me out," Naveen's hands are up in defence, "You wouldn't have to worry about a thing.
I know you came to Lumiose to escape something, I'm not sure what. And you're looking for a place to belong-"
"Don't I belong in MZ?!" you interject.
"Yes, but. if they've got a million pokedollars to collect from Urbain, you could buy a hundred of those beanies you've been wanting."
Putting aside the fact that your teammate is trying to ship you to the other side of the chessboard. It would turn tables and now Urbain would owe you money, if you've become Rust Syndicate.
Being promised to a rando is out of the question, but being a Rank D trainer surely would put you in a better position than grunts. It's not an A, but it makes you an asset, surely.
Though a little part of your Treecko brain is romanticizing what you think a mob wife would be like. Sounds kind of cool and kind of rich.
You're outside the Rust Syndicate office building (is it still called an office if it's not legal? maybe they're legal..) flanked by your remaining two teammates.
The grunts had a bark louder than their bite, but Philippe? He looked like he could break your neck with his pinky.
Sweat started beading on your forehead... How would he look like? The man who has this entire gang (and the city) in the palm of his hand. Someone who could overpower Philippe... Does Naveen have any authority to sell you off the the head of Rust, some hulking beast of a man?
It was the longest elevator ride of your life. (It was also a little on the slow side)
The metal doors slide open, and you're immediately met with an intimidating golden gaze.
If it were not for the fear, you would have laughed at how the man was quite the opposite of your expectations. Glasses, a somewhat small and lean frame, further dwarfed by the size of his enormous chair.
Though unmistakably, the air was heavy with the weight of the man's reputation.
"Ah yes, Team MZ. Your little friend has left you with quite a burden," He starts. You felt a chill at the back of your spine. Also Urbain is by no means little, nor is the burden that he has saddled the team with.
Introduced as Corbeau, he ushered the team to one of the coffee tables on the side. It was quite a comfy couch. You would have enjoyed resting on it, fatigue of battling 15 trainers heavy on your bones. Unfortunately you have to be running on adrenalin with your independence on the line.
You were briefed with Urbain's unfulfilled promises, with Lida and Naveen denying having to do with any of that. But the contract's signed under the name of MZ, and that being the three of you.
Urbain's actions were grating on your nerves, and the more you think about it, the more aggressive your replies got to the Rust. It was also a little annoying that Corbeau was a matter of fact, quite attractive. But at this point, you were starting to get really tired. Home...
What were even these tasks Rust wanted to offload to MZ? They wanted commitment, but they didn't state clear terms. Brain on autopilot, you made some choice replies, and the last thing you expected what Lida's life being threatened in Philippe's vice grip.
Naveen and you jumped to your feet, stress at 100%, desperate to de-escalate the situation.
"She'll marry you!" Naveen blurted out at his maximum volume.
What?
"What?" Corbeau echoed your thoughts.
Philippe and Lida were at a standstill.
Now that this has happened, it was actually such a ridiculous and naive idea. How did this make sense to anybody?
"So," the mob boss looks you straight in the eye, "you refuse to do our chores, but instead you agree to give your autonomy to me?" He scoffs and ends in a smirk.
Technically a marriage is a union and not an acquisition.
"No unions are 50-50," the man states. Did you end up saying that out loud? Must be the fatigue.
"But if I join you, Urbain's debt to you becomes a debt to me. Right?" you try.
A low sound comes from Philippe, followed by some semblance of a snort from his boss. "My, how interesting this has become." He sits up from the couch and walks over to the zen garden in the office. "Why don't we have a battle to see where you stand. If you win I'll let you vet through my vows."
-end-
I tried my best! It' felt so counter-intuitive because MZ would be giving them so much more than what they're bargaining for. I wonder if the legalities of something like marriage even mean anything to a crime ring
I want to draw a short comic about a birthday party for Rufus this year but we have no information about his date of birth :(((((
So if it's OK, I would like to read a short story about our dear president's birthday with the Turks, Darkstar and Cloud too ofc 🥰
And if you don't mind, may I draw a short comic based on that story?
I don't mind at all!! Because Advent Children era is when my brain works most flexibly with them, this little moment slots into the NTYC timeline rather nicely. So it could be anytime between chapter 6ish and chapter 15ish. Due to this, I couldn't work in Darkstar, though. But please feel free to add the lil beastie into whatever art you decide to do (if you indeed decide to do it). She can be lying protectively at Rufus' feet in spirit for the story but for real in the comic (you could even just take this scenario and make it OG/Remake timeline if you want, 100% up to you and I will be happy with anything)! 😂
Because formatting is being hateful, I'm putting the blurb below a Read More.
Enjoy!
Cloud slips his cell into his pocket after trudging up the steps at Healen and shooting a quick, curt text to Reno to let him know he's waiting outside. The invitation had been out of the blue and uncharacteristically vague.
The boss wants you here, he'd said.
Tseng??? Cloud fired back.
No, not MY boss, THE boss. Don't play dumb today, pretty boy, just make the appointment, yeah?
Cloud still isn't sure why he agreed, but as Reno opens the door and chaperones him to Rufus' very familiar quarters—babbling incessantly all the while—his nerves start to subside. He can hear voices beyond the door before Reno even cracks it open.
Upon entering, the room is aglow with warm light and voices full of tempered excitement. All the Turks are here and accounted for; Elena and Tseng nurse drinks while chatting back and forth off to the left of the little center table, Rude arranges small, festive bags and packages atop the counter beside the mini fridge.
And there, sat at the table alone with a smile on his face and some tiny confection before him, is Rufus Shinra. He fixes Cloud in place with eyes partially squinted by the force of his grin, offering a little nod and wave of hello.
"Anyway, go say hi to the birthday boy," Reno says, snapping Cloud out of his moment of wonderment at the scene in front of him.
"Birthday?" Cloud grouses, looking at Reno with a little knit in his brow only after Rufus has broken their gaze to ask Rude for something. "You could've at least told me. I got nothin'." Cloud throws both arms out wide in a gesture that reveals just how empty handed he is.
As usual, Reno shrugs off any accusations as he backs away from Cloud and toward his partner.
"Don't worry, blondie, your presence is present enough, trust me!"
With an undeserved snicker Reno turns to meet Rude at Rufus' side. Cloud watches them in the doorway for an awkward moment before summoning the wherewithal to move his feet. As he approaches the former President, the other two slink away to find themselves a drink. Upon closer inspection, Cloud can see that the confection is some kind of cake from an upscale bakery, all perfectly round and encased in what looks like a hard, white and brown candy coating. Probably white and dark chocolate, but he can't be certain.
"A nice surprise," that velvet voice pours out syrupy sweet, sweeter than any birthday cake could ever hope to be.
Cloud levels him with a heavy but almost apologetic gaze.
"Hm? Wish I knew ahead of time so I could've brought you something but I think some details got lost in the invitation..."
Rufus only smiles, stifles a laugh. It's hard to tell whether he knew Reno tracked him down, or if it was his idea to begin with. That's not surprising, though.
"Would you like a taste?" he suddenly asks out of nowhere, gesturing to the cake on the table.
Cloud ignores the baser meaning behind the question and leans over the table to get a good look at the cake, making a bit of a show of it. He's not a die hard lover of sweets, but it looks good enough. He does notice there isn't a single candle is in sight, though. Feigning contemplation, he folds his arms over his chest, rests his chin on a fist.
"Before the birthday boy? Nah. Besides...your friends here seem to have forgotten the candles," he teases, only now realizing how much of their relationship has progressed without him even knowing Rufus' birthday. "How old are you turning, anyway?"
Rufus again only reacts with the slightest curl to the corners of his lips before reaching a graceful hand forward. He lifts a heavy cake knife from beside the platter on which the fancy little dish sits. With deft and nimble fingers he cuts through, but pauses before completing the slice.
"Wouldn't you like to know..."
"your hands are like ice!" for deweys :3 (save me dewey fluff, dewey fluff save me)
If there was one thing about Minnesota that Brandon didn't enjoy, it was the negative temperatures. The guys liked to tease him, especially Connor, about the fact that he was from Florida, used to warmer temps in general. Not like he didn't play in places just as cold growing up but no one ever wanted to acknowledge that, why would they when he's an easy target to tease?
His apartment is comfortable to him, keeping it at around seventy two degrees no matter how much everyone who comes over complains about it. Connor is usually the one who comes over the most, always giving him shit about how warm it is, how he's sweating, how he can't understand how it's comfortable for Brandon.
Usually he just tells Connor to get over it, that he's being a baby, that it's not even that warm. Low seventies was comfortable, especially without humidity, so he's not really sure how anyone can complain about it compared to the negative twenty it was outside.
Which Connor immediately does when they walk in the door, coming back from hanging out with Bolds and Shawzy, "dude how do you keep it so hot? My nose is burning."
"Oh fuck off Dew, it's not that bad." He hangs his coat up in the closet, yelping as Connor's hand comes to the back of his neck, shoulders coming up to try and get the ice cold fingers off. "Shit! Your hands are like ice dude! Thought you had, like, gloves or something?!"
Connor just laughs as he walks away, draping his jacket on the back of the couch before sitting down. He's a little hesitant to join Connor on the couch, especially with the fact that his hands were so cold, knowing that he'll just do it again. Of course Connor tries to, grinning as Brandon grabs his wrists and tries to direct them away from him.
They wind up wrestling a bit, Connor trying his hardest to get his hands on Brandon's skin, both of them laughing about it. Eventually he winds up pinning Connor down on the couch, holding his wrists above him while smirking. He'd won and there's no way that Connor can deny that now. Maybe he'll think twice about touching him with those ice cold hands again.
I haven't written a word since I finished Guidance Counseling, but this prompt ("just once") finally inspired me! Thank you for submitting it! And thanks to @bratanimus for giving it a once-over. <3
==
Tomorrowland
The rocketship slide, layered with decades of chipped paint and rust, would've been a better vantage point to watch the Creel house for the signal, but Chrissy couldn't bring herself to approach it. Eddie, on the other hand, thundered up the metal slide like an overgrown boy showing off on the playground--which was probably exactly what he was doing. Goofball. She had no such urge and was drawn instead to the ramshackle picnic table tucked beneath the sheltering canopy of the old sugar maples, near a light post that she hoped to God still worked. It would be dark soon.
In spite of the very serious--not to mention scary--circumstances that brought them here, she felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips as she watched Eddie flail and narrowly avoid falling off the top of the slide when he attempted to crouch beneath the child-sized opening of the rocket. The hatch? It was so weird how they barely knew each other--had never talked before last Friday--but somehow he could make her feel comfortable even in truly uncomfortable situations.
He bumped his forehead on a metal bar, swore, and rubbed it dramatically as he turned to face her.
"Laughing at my misery, Cunningham?" he called down to her. "I knew it--you're a sadist!"
"I am not!" Chrissy retorted, groaning inwardly at how lame that sounded.
They should probably be more quiet; the team inside had planned on absolute silence until the time came to draw out Vecna. Could he hear beyond the dilapidated walls of the old house?
A shudder rippled down Chrissy's spine. She didn't want to think about Vecna yet. It was hard not to, though, with the darkened windows of the run-down house staring like hollow eyes in skeleton faces. She was glad she wasn't looking at them dead-on. She didn't like how they seemed to be fixed on Eddie.
Scary as it was, the Creel house also made her feel heavy with sadness. Once upon a time, it had been pretty. Ladies wearing dresses with puffed sleeves and trailing skirts and hair pinned up in elegant styles had sipped tea in the front parlor, while children in lacy pinafores and knickerbockers played in the garden. Later, in the fifties probably, someone had built the space-age playground. It would've looked a little like Disneyland, with pastel Victorian Main Street, USA perched just around the corner from Tomorrowland. There was nothing magical about this, however--except for back magic. The Unhappiest Place on Earth.
"You okay?"
Chrissy's gaze darted from the house back to the slide, where Eddie stood at the top of the stairs, frozen with that same look of concern that had taken her so much by surprise that day in the forest. You okay? he'd asked then, too. Other people had asked that since she’d started having her episodes--Jason, her friends on the cheer squad--but Eddie was the first one who'd actually seemed to give a damn, to make her feel like maybe she could explain, and maybe he'd get it.
If he hadn't exactly gotten it then, he definitely did now. Chrissy felt just terrible that she'd dragged him into this horror movie that her life had become. Even if he did work awfully hard to make people think he was mean and scary.
He didn't look scary now, though. He just looked…scared. Like he thought her eyes might glaze and she'd start levitating again, and this time…No. More things she didn't want to think about right now.
Maybe she could do what Eddie was so good at. Make him feel comfortable.
She sat up straight--no easy feat on the bowed and off-balance picnic table bench--shoulders back, chin raised, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm a little offended that you think I'm a sadist."
Eddie barked out a laugh and bounded down the slide steps, skipping a few, and over to the opposite side of the picnic table. He slapped his palms on the surface and leaned forward, eyes dark and gazing down at her. Chrissy had read about men flashing lascivious grins before; now, she finally had a real-life picture of what that meant.
"I didn't say sadism was a bad thing." Eddie's grin somehow grew even wider as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Did he hear how sharply Chrissy drew in her breath? Could he see the flush that prickled like a sunburn across her cheeks and ears? Thank goodness for the long shadows cast by the sunset, and that the light post over the table still hadn't turned on. She wracked her brain for a clever response, but Eddie leering down at her was too distracting, and she was totally out of her league when it came to knowledge from dirty magazines and movies. Anyway, Eddie seemed thrilled to have rendered her speechless. Somehow, this didn't make her feel dumb, like Jason did when he knew things she didn't. Eddie just got a kick out of scandalizing her, or corrupting her innocence, or something.
And over the last couple of days, Chrissy was learning she got a kick out of being scandalized, or corrupted, or something by Eddie.
The light mood didn't last long. Eddie's grin faded as he trudged around the picnic table to straddle the bench next to her. For a moment, they contemplated the Creel house in silence. Eerie silence; no doves cooed in the tree limbs above, no crickets chirped in the unmowed playground grass. Chrissy was about to comment on how weird this was, when Eddie spoke, a cigarette clenched between his teeth.
"Me and the band…" He trailed away as the lighter snicked and the end of the cigarette flared.
Although Chrissy wasn't a fan of stale, old cigarette smell, she liked fresh smoke. Now, it brought the reassurance that she wasn't the only living thing here, that Eddie was warm and alive beside her. She felt herself shifting a little closer to him, her knee bumping one of his.
Pocketing the lighter, Eddie took a drag, then removed the cigarette to exhale, smoke wreathing him as he went on. "We always talked about having this dump as an album cover. Or shooting a music video here. It's creepy as shit."
Chrissy nodded her agreement. "I feel kind of silly for ever thinking the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland is spooky."
Eddie blew out another puff of smoke. "You've been to Disneyland?"
"Just once. Have you?"
"Nope." He popped the p definitively; it almost seemed to echo in the quiet of the playground.
"It's probably not your kind of place."
Eddie sat back, a deep frown tugging at his features, buckling his forehead. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Chrissy flushed as she realized how that sounded. Not like she'd meant it at all. "Just that it's cheesy fantasy stuff. For kids."
Eddie's shoulders relaxed, and a grin slanted across his face. "Cunningham. What do you think Dungeons and Dragons is? Honestly, Disneyland sounds right up my alley."
That wasn't exactly in line with how he and Dustin had explained Dungeons and Dragons to her, but Chrissy was just relieved he wasn't offended anymore. "But you wouldn't think the Haunted Mansion is even a little bit scary," she said. "Not compared to all those movies you like."
Eddie seemed to consider this as he smoked, turning his head toward the Creel House. "After this week, I think maybe I've had enough horror shit."
Chrissy's heart gave a squeeze in her chest, but before her guilt could take hold, Eddie's fingers closed around her knee, and she found herself looking into his dark, glittering eyes again.
"Tell you what," he said. "If I graduate? We're going to Disneyland."
An image sprang into Chrissy's mind of the two of them strolling toward Sleeping Beauty Castle, Eddie in denim and leather and chains and Mickey Mouse ears. But that wasn't what made Chrissy let out a shriek of delighted laughter, then clap her hand over her mouth lest Vecna hear them or Eddie somehow read her mind and think she was making fun of him. Or it wasn't only that. If I graduate, he'd said, not, If we make it out of this alive. Graduation came after. They would have an after.
"Not if you graduate, Eddie," she said. "When."
Eddie smiled--not the maniacal, teeth-baring grin, but biting his lip, ducking his head, hair falling in his face. He leaned in, close enough that Chrissy could smell the cigarette on his breath. She wanted to taste it on his lips.
"And, uh, if the Haunted Mansion gets too spooky for you…you can…" His tongue darted out to lick his lips. "...hold my hand."
His gaze dropped, and Chrissy saw his hand had moved from her knee, close to hers on the bench. His pinky touched the side of her hand. She flicked hers out to touch it.
In the dormer window of the Creel house, a light flashed on, and they both sat up. The signal.
"But I'm the one who'll probably be shitting my pants," Eddie rasped.
Gripped with a sudden courage and decisiveness, Chrissy stood up. "Then you can hold my hand," she said, and twined their fingers together.
Hmmm, wanna write something of Comfort on a Bad Day? Absolutely no pressure, hope this strikes your fancy!
carlos didn’t know how to help.
he remembers feeling just as helpless when he used to see and hear his sister trying to cry as quietly as possible in her room, thinking neither he nor their dad could hear her. he had eventually figured out a way to comfort her without making her feel uncomfortable, but it had taken him some time to figure out how.
but as he now stands on the other side of the garage doors, listening to reggie’s sniffles coming from the studio, he can feel his heart clench all over again.
he hated seeing his family in pain.
they had all been through so much, and yet pain and grief still chased after them, refusing to let them go.
carlos sinks to the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest and rests his head against them.
what could he possibly do or give reggie that could help him? could carlos even make a difference?
maybe he should ask his dad?
he shakes his head.
no. he didn’t want their dad to worry — reggie hid himself in the studio for a reason, just like julie used to in her room.
he needs to figure this out on his own.
he rolls his head to the side, eyes scanning the garden as his brain goes into overdrive:
what does reggie like? what makes him feel better?
music? no, too loud, too obvious.
food? ….no that would make things worse actually, waaaay worse.
should he tell alex and luke? julie, maybe? nope. reggie probably didn’t want his sister and the guys to know either.
what would he want if he was feeling down? he knew he and reggie agreed on quite a lot of things so maybe…
but what helped him? what did he use-
carlos stands up so suddenly at the realisation, he nearly topples backwards into the garage doors. he stands there for a moment, waiting to get his bearings, and then races back into the house, not stopping until he’s in his room.
he desperately searches for what he needs, pulling open every drawer and cupboard door, throwing things around and searching under every piece of furniture in his room.
he’s gotta find it, he’s gotta find it, he’s got-
gotcha!
carlos stretches his arm out as far as it can go under the bed, fingers wiggling in desperate hope as he struggles to grasp the object he really really needs.
he closes his eyes and reaches a little further and- yes! he can feel the soft material at the edge of his fingertips. his eyes snap open as he pushes just a little further, and HA!
fingers wrapping securely around the worn thing, carlos gently pulls it towards him before springing up and sprinting back out to the studio.
stopping right outside the studio to catch his breath, carlos checks on the object in his hands one more time before slowly easing the garage door open.
he first pops his head open, eyes scanning the space, then inches forward when he spots reggie sat at the foot of the couch.
slowly making his way over to reggie, feet shuffling against the carpeted floor so as to not startle reggie, carlos starts to doubt his decision to walk in and disturb reggie
what if reggie doesn’t want carlos here? what if he just wanted to spend the day by himself, without being interrupted by annoying younger brothers?
carlos stops in his tracks at that thought, rethinking this entire thing. he looks down at what’s in his hands and hesitates; what if this doesn’t even help him?
but before he can start backing out, the sniffling suddenly stops. looking up, he finds reggie looking at him, a strained smile on his face.
“hey carlos! what’s up? you good buddy?”
carlos’ heart clenches at the sound of reggie’s voice, at his attempt at seeming fine. it doesn’t escape him when reggie tries to subtly wipe at his nose with the sleeve of his flannel.
“i uh-,” he starts, kicking at the carpet under his feet. “i just wanted to-”
“oh! what’s that you got there? an old friend?”
carlos stares blankly at reggie for a second, before blinking himself out of the daze and follows reggie’s gaze to his hands.
“oh! oh yeah i wanted to uh, i wanted to show you something.”
at reggie’s nod, carlos slowly makes his way over to reggie and settles down next to him.
“this is osito. mom got it for me before i was born and he’s been with me ever since.” carlos fiddles with the old bear’s arms, the soft worn material bringing its own sense of comfort.
“and hey! the little dude has the same flannel as me! we match!” reggie’s grin comes a little more naturally this time, but it still doesn’t fully reach his eyes.
“yeah, mom stitched it up for me when i was sick one year. apparently i was crying worried he might get sick without a jacket on and well…mom was always good with this kind of stuff.” carlos stops for a second, taking a deep breath when he starts feeling little chocked up.
not cool dude! you’re here to make reggie feel better, not worse!
shaking his head to clear his mind, carlos looks up at reggie, and is startled to find him looking at him with a small genuine smile on his face.
“i, um,” clearing his throat, carlos looks away and stares at the coffee table in front of them. “osito helped me get through some stuff, and….his soft jacket always helped me calm down i just. i just wanted to uh. to let you know that uh. that…you’re welcome to use it whenever you…might need it.” when he hears reggie sighing next to him, carlos rushes to add- “not that you know! not that i think you’d want a kid’s toy or i just-”
“carlos,” reggie gently places a hand on his shoulder, successfully cutting off his panicked rambling. “i think if he helped you out, he must be a very special guy.” reggie leans down and bumps his shoulder against his. “thank you, little dude. really.”
his small smile grows a little brighter, and carlos feels like he can breathe a little easier.
he nods once, clearing his throat again before answering.
“yeah, of course. it’s what the- it’s what the man of the house does you know just…normal stuff….” he’s not sure what he’s saying anymore, and he can’t seem to stop, but reggie is looking at him with a lighter look in his eyes and carlos feels like maybe he’s succeeded in helping another sibling feel just a little bit better.
