#(and uses a confident bravado and still immediately wants to take action)

[aventurineswife]

Reader flinches during an argument😩🤚

You cna make it just flinching or them actually accidentally hurting reader, whatever you're more comfortable with

Characters: Jing Yuan, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Kaveh and Therta (get it? Cuz The Herta can be shortened to Therta... haha... ha)

Trust Reforged in the Quiet

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, The Herta x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Emotional Vulnerability, Arguments, Flinching Reaction, Apologies, Reconciliation, Romantic Tension, Communication, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Emotional conflict, Raised voices, Accidental intimidation, Mentions of guilt and emotional vulnerability. (No physical harm or abuse.)

A/N: yeah... I totally got it, ahahaha.. ha 🧍‍♀️

The peaceful glow of the Luofu was overshadowed by the tense atmosphere between you and Jing Yuan. The General stood in his study, his eyes fixed on you, frustration flickering behind their usual calm. The argument had started small, but it spiraled into something you hadn’t anticipated.

“You don’t understand the weight of these decisions,” Jing Yuan said, his tone sharper than usual. “Every action has consequences—not just for us, but for the entire Alliance.”

“I’m trying to help you!” you shot back, voice trembling. “But you keep shutting me out like I’m just an outsider!”

Jing Yuan ran a hand through his long hair, visibly exasperated. “It’s not about shutting you out—it’s about protecting you. Don’t you see that?”

When he suddenly stepped closer, his voice louder than before, you instinctively flinched, taking a step back. His eyes widened, his anger evaporating in an instant.

“Wait…” His voice softened. “Did you just flinch?”

You looked down, ashamed. The moment hung heavy in the air. Jing Yuan’s heart ached at the sight of you retreating from him, and he cursed himself for letting his emotions overwhelm his judgment.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, his hands hovering before dropping to his sides. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He took a step back himself, giving you space. “I would never hurt you.”

You hesitated before nodding, your eyes still wary. Jing Yuan took a deep breath, his usual calm returning. He walked to his desk, retrieved a cup of tea, and set it down in front of you.

“Let’s talk—properly this time,” he said, his voice steady but laced with remorse. “I want to listen to you, truly.”

And for the first time that evening, you felt safe enough to let him in.

The opulent office felt suffocating as Aventurine paced back and forth, his normally suave demeanor unraveling. You had challenged one of his high-stakes decisions, and he hadn’t taken it well.

“You think I didn’t calculate the risks?” he barked, his voice sharp as a blade. “You think I don’t know exactly what I’m doing?”

“I’m saying it’s dangerous, Aventurine!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You can’t keep gambling with people’s lives like this!”

His eyes burned with frustration. “You don’t understand the game I’m playing! Every move I make is—”

When he spun to face you, gesturing emphatically, you flinched, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. The slight recoil stopped Aventurine mid-sentence. His hand, frozen mid-air, dropped to his side.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, his voice came out softer, almost unsure. “Did I… scare you?”

You didn’t respond immediately, and that was answer enough. Aventurine’s usually confident mask cracked, revealing the guilt underneath. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone devoid of its usual bravado. “I let my temper get the better of me.”

You crossed your arms, your voice shaky. “I just want you to see that I care, Aventurine. You don’t have to face everything alone.”

He chuckled dryly, his smile weak but genuine. “It seems I’m the one who needs a reminder of that sometimes.” He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours. “Can we try this again? No shouting this time.”

You nodded, and as he led you to sit beside him, the gambler seemed determined to show you he was more than just his sharp words and risky strategies.

The gentle hum of the Astral Express felt distant as you and Dan Heng faced off in the library. He rarely raised his voice, but tonight, his frustration was palpable.

“You can’t just rush into danger like that!” Dan Heng exclaimed, his voice uncharacteristically forceful. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I was trying to help!” you defended, equally upset. “You always act like I can’t handle myself!”

“Because you don’t see the risks!” He stepped forward, his hand clutching his spear. “What if something had happened to you? Do you think I could—”

When his voice rose further, and his spear clinked against the floor as he adjusted his grip, you flinched, taking a step back. Dan Heng immediately froze, his sharp eyes widening in realization. The air grew heavy with the weight of what had just happened.

“You…” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He set his spear down, his hands shaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to… I would never—”

You looked away, biting your lip. “It’s fine. I just… wasn’t expecting you to—”

“No, it’s not fine,” he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with guilt. “I lost control. That’s on me.”

Dan Heng lowered himself to sit on the edge of the table, his posture uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I don’t want to push you away. I’m just… scared of losing you.”

You hesitated before stepping closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m scared too, but we need to face this together. You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

He nodded, his usual calm slowly returning. “You’re right. I’ll… do better.”

In that moment, you saw the real Dan Heng—not the stoic guardian, but the man who carried the weight of the past and feared losing the one person who made him feel safe.

The grandiose living room of Alhaitham's home felt oppressive as your argument with Kaveh escalated. He stood in the middle of the room, his expressive eyes alight with frustration. You had challenged one of his decisions, and his idealistic nature didn’t take it lightly.

“You don’t understand what this means to me!” Kaveh exclaimed, his voice shaking. “I worked my entire life to make a difference through my designs! And now you’re questioning that?”

“I’m not questioning your work, Kaveh,” you said, your voice tinged with desperation. “I’m worried about you! You’re pushing yourself too hard, taking on too much—”

“Because I have to!” he shouted, his hands flaring in an animated gesture. “If I don’t, who will? Do you think anyone else cares as much as I do?” He stepped closer, his tone growing sharper as he continued. “Stop acting like you—”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. You flinched, taking a small step back as his voice rose and his movements became more animated. The action stopped him in his tracks, the weight of the moment crashing down around him like a crumbling structure.

His arms dropped to his sides, and his face fell. “Did… did I scare you?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet and laced with regret.

You didn’t reply immediately, your throat tight with emotion. “I—I didn’t mean to—” you started, but Kaveh shook his head, cutting you off.

“No,” he said firmly, his tone filled with self-reproach. “This isn’t on you. I… I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” He took a step back, giving you space, his eyes filled with guilt. “I never meant to make you feel unsafe.”

“Kaveh…” you began, your voice softening.

He turned away briefly, running a hand through his hair. “I let my emotions get the better of me. Again. It’s just… everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I’m trying so hard to hold it together.”

You stepped forward hesitantly, placing a hand on his arm. “I know you’re trying, Kaveh. But you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself.”

He looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just… I don’t know how to let go. But I don’t ever want to hurt you, not even by accident.”

“You won’t,” you assured him, squeezing his arm gently. “But you need to let yourself rest, Kaveh. Let yourself breathe.”

He nodded slowly, his usual dramatic flair subdued by the gravity of the moment. “You’re right. I’ll… I’ll try. For you.”

And as the tension eased, you saw in his eyes the vulnerability he often tried to mask with passion and idealism—a man who cared so deeply, it sometimes consumed him.

The sterile halls of Herta’s spaceship echoed with the sharp edge of your argument. Herta stood before her console, her fingers tapping impatiently on its surface as she glared at you.

“Do you even understand the magnitude of what I’m trying to achieve here?” she asked, her tone biting. “This isn’t just some experiment—it’s a breakthrough!”

“I do understand,” you replied, your voice raised. “But you’re so focused on the outcome that you’re ignoring the risks!”

Herta’s eyes narrowed as she whirled around to face you, her movements swift and deliberate. “Risks are inevitable in science! If I stopped every time something was dangerous, we wouldn’t even have the Simulated Universe! You—” She gestured sharply, stepping closer as her voice grew louder.

The suddenness of her movement made you flinch, your shoulders tensing as you instinctively stepped back. The reaction was subtle but unmistakable. Herta froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening in realization.

She stared at you for a long moment, the tension in her posture dissipating. “Wait… did I just… scare you?” she asked, her voice unusually soft.

You looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to.”

But Herta shook her head, her usual detached demeanor cracking. “No, it’s not fine,” she said, setting her clipboard aside. “I might be a genius, but that doesn’t give me the right to… intimidate you like that.”

You glanced at her, surprised by the remorse in her tone. “Herta…”

She crossed her arms, avoiding your eyes as she spoke. “I get so caught up in my work, I forget about the people around me. I’m sorry.” She sighed, her sharp wit returning slightly. “It seems even I have room for improvement.”

You chuckled softly despite the tension. “You think?”

She smiled faintly, stepping closer but keeping her movements slow and deliberate. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll explain everything properly this time—no yelling, no dramatics.”

You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening. “I’d like that.”

As she guided you to her desk, the usual confidence in her demeanor was tempered by a quiet sincerity. For the first time, you saw the side of Herta that wasn’t just a genius or a scientist, but someone who valued your trust more than any experiment.

[tamayosclinic]

hello!! could u please write some headcanons for inosuke, muichiro, and genya reactions (separately) with a nurse at the butterfly estate that spoil them and treat them like she was their mother?

thank you!

Inosuke, Muichiro and Genya with a Butterfly Estate Nurse

Warning(s): Manga Spoilers

Author's Note(s): I honestly don't have much to say other than enjoy these headcanons. ( ^ v ^ )

Inosuke

You are the only nurse who can handle Inosuke’s wild bravado (aside from Shinobu). All the other girls do not bother with Inosuke unless you are not available. You do not want him to accidentally injure any of the girls and God forbid Inosuke anger Aoi… again.

Be prepared for Inosuke to challenge your power over him. If you happen to be a demon slayer, it would be simple to prove it. If you are just a nurse, then it will take time for him to listen to you. Before that, he will do the opposite of everything you say regardless of his injuries.

I can see your motherly attitude towards him being the breakthrough. Any motherly act gives him flashbacks of his own mother and that significantly calms him. Whether it’s the way you smile at him, baby him, or spoil him. Making him pinky promise not to disturb his injuries or cause chaos around the estate will give him the most vivid Vietnam flashbacks.

Honestly, before he came to respect you, Inosuke would be very demanding especially of food so he would not notice that you spoil. There were many times he would walk up to you demanding you get him some tempura. He doesn’t mean any harm in it. He just hadn’t been taught to ask nicely so make sure to teach him that. When you started giving him his favorite food or things, he just assumed you got in the routine of preparing it before he had the chance to demand it.

The fuzzy feeling he gets from your kind, attentive attitude did annoy him at first but he will eventually soften up and listen to you more than anyone else. Please teach him to read and write.

Genya

The shyest boy of the three. It’s quite funny considering how intimidating he looks at first glance. Any unease you may feel at first will immediately disappear when you see how he is a meek, blushing mess around girls. Don’t bully him about it and take things nice and slow with him otherwise, he will faint from the closeness.

Don’t worry too much though. Genya will get used to your spoiling and motherly acts towards him. Once he gains confidence, he will voice his gratefulness for all you have done for him. It will take a bit longer for him to get used to physical contact but once he does make sure to shower him with it.

He has been put down a lot by his brother and his inability to use breath styles. Encourage him and let him know he’s doing a great job. Don’t forget to spoil him with his favorites each time he comes to the estate.

Muichiro

Muichiro will be oblivious and forgetful about you and your kindness towards him. He may also tell you in his usual crude fashion to stop bugging (by that I mean spoiling and mothering) him so much. Whether you stop or not is up to you.

Once he gets his memories back and softens up, the first thing he will do is apologize for his rudeness. Of course, you accept his apology and continue to treat him kindly. He is more appreciative of your spoiling and motherly actions.

Brush his hair, please. It’s something his mother did when she was still alive and nowadays it helps him relax and gives him peace of mind especially when the final fight is inevitable. He gives you creative rights over his hair so you can experiment with hairstyles so long as it doesn’t involve cutting his hair. His favorite is braids, mainly because he likes to use them to whip demons in battle.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

A Life For A Life - Chapter 5

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Prompt by @local-space-case:  Prince Roman and his two loyal friends, Patton and Logan, are on the  hunt for a dragon. Meanwhile, Dragonshifter!Janus  is just trying to  find the right herbs to cure a sick/injured  Dragonshifter!Virgil. Bonus  points for Anxciet and/or Protective Remus.

Word Count: 3053

Chapter Warnings: Minor violence/threats, Sexual Innuendo, Blood, Injury, Effects of Poisoning, Mentions of Death, Kidnapping (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

---

    “Now, I can get behind a little self-flagellation but this is just pathetic.”

    Roman blinked in shock as the sudden echo of an unfamiliar voice filled his ears.

    His aim had held true as the arrow wavered through the stale, cave air and the dragon had stilled in just the right moment. He'd been prepared to let out a breath of relief. Yet, he found himself staring dumbfounded at the arrow that had stopped short of its target mere inches from the dragon’s face.

     A shadowy silhouette gripped the arrows shaft, having apparently stopped it in midair. Chills crept down Roman’s spine as the figure turned toward him with a toothy, white grin.

     “Come now. It's just rude to murder in someone else’s home.” The figure chuckled as he twirled the arrow in its unnaturally long fingers. “Unless, of course—You're the host.”

     Roman flinched as the figure's hand twisted, sending his own are headed back for Roman’s chest.

    “Roman, no!”

    “Lo!”

     Logan and Patton’s voices were muffled as a sudden wave of blue light shot illuminated the cave walls. A minor shockwave sent Roman stumbling back as the arrow headed for his chest shattered into a dozen pieces and clattered harmlessly to the ground.

    “Oh, our pathetic prince has friends. Does he?”

    The pallid figure traipsed toward him with a dangerous sway in his step. Dark circles accented the creature’s dangerous sneer, sending Roman stumbling back to clumsily land on the ground.

    He would nearly have mistaken the figure for a man, if not for the black pulsing veins etched into his white skin. Its eyes were white and without pupils and long black feathers seemed to hang from behind his ears like talismans.

    “Come now,” The beast purred.

    His sudden movements sent a fresh wave of fear across Roman's body as he started to scramble away. The movement was cut short as a hand caught his ankle, pulling him back until he turned to stare up at unnerving creature.

    “I love me a good meet and greet. Call your friends out, princey boy .”

    Roman bit his lip. “Logan—”

    “Don't make me drag them out by their toes.” The man cooed in a lilting tone that immediately  shut down any thoughts of rebellion in Roman’s mind. “I'd hate to have to hurt them.”

     Roman scowled at the creature’s smirk. “Logan, come out please.”

    The man's eye glimmered as he wagged a patronizing finger at Roman. “Don't forget the cute one. I wouldn’t want to leave anyone out of the fun I’m about to have with you.”

    “You bastard. Leave Patton out if th—"

    The man cocked his head with a condescending smirk, flourishing his hand. Roman’s hands shot to his throat as the muscles suddenly constricted. He heaved in a breath, unable to speak as the man leaned forward, head resting in his hands as he watched Roman suffocate with a infuriating grin.

     “Don’t hurt him, please.”

    Logan’s calm voice resonated against the walls, approaching slowly as Roman craned his neck toward him.

    “We're coming out like you asked.”

    Roman felt his heart pound in his chest at the seriousness in Logan’s tone. He could see Logan’s arm tucked protectively around Patton, eyeing the scene with caution as they stepped into the faint light.

    “Oh, goody-goody gumdrops.”

    The man jumped to his feet as breath flooded Roman’s lungs. His hands reached to the ceiling as he took a step towards Logan.

    “So glad you can join us.”

    “Stay back.” Logan's hand glowed with a faint blue light as he growled a warning at the creature. “I will not ask twice.”

    Tension seeped into their bodies as a brief moment of silence hung between them. The orange glow of the embers reflected in Logan’s eyes as the blue glow of his palms lit his face from below.

    His ferocity sent a shiver across Roman’s skin as he stared at the man he loved. He knew Logan cared for few things more than he cared for Patton, but to see the fury in full force was a staggering sight even for Roman.

   “Funny. You've got that nerdy look about you. I really thought you'd be the smart one.” The creature chuckled as pupils returned to his eyes, glittering  green as his eyes narrowed in Logan. “Are you really prepared to face a god with that cocky attitude?”

    “A god?”

    Roman’s heart sunk as Logan’s confidence faltered. He could see Logan hesitate as the creature approached, leaning into his face with a snarky smile.

    “You look like the type of nerd who'd know all about these things. Come on, don’t tell me you skipped studying the stories of these hills?” The man’s smirk grew unnaturally wide as he peered over Logan’s shoulder at Patton. “The gods buried themselves in the earth to give rise to the great creatures of the earth. Abandon all hope ye who enter here. Yada, yada, boring mumbo jumbo.”

     “I'm aware of the stories.” Logan’s lips pursed slightly. “Forgive for my ignorance. Which story is it that you supposedly from?”

    “A non-believer. Huh?” The man's lip curled into a dangerous smirk. “You’d best start believing in legends, Mr. Tense and Broody. You’re living one."

    Roman watched as Logan  pulled Patton closer to him, trying not to show how much Remus’ responses had unnerved him. “You didn't answer my question.”

     The man smiled, almost as if he was impressed by Logan’s bravado, before giving a dramatic bow towards Logan. “Remus, God of all creatures of the Dilonn Forest, scaled and slimy alike. At your service.”

    Logan’s expression fell as his eyes darted to the amber-scaled dragon whose stoic eyes were now watching their every movement.

    “We didn’t mean to—”

    “You didn’t mean to follow an injured beast as it fled from your grasp?”

     Logan swallowed the lump in his throat as he clenched his jaw. “That's not—”

    “All while carrying deadly weapons intended to kill said beast?”

    “I—”

    “Wait” Roman interrupted Logan's wavering protests, raising his hands in surrender as he leapt nimbly to his feet. “Logan never intended to do anyone harm. Only I intended to hunt the creature—"

    “Oh, I'll get to you in a minute.” The man waved off Roman’s   protests with a brusque gesture before turning to face to glowing amber eyes of the golden-scaled dragon. “But first, I’d like to hear from the one who spurned my creations most.”

    Roman stared in shock as the dragon raised its head in apparent indignation at the man's remark.

    “One bad day and you’re suddenly willing to throw away the gifts I’ve given you?”

    A wave of heat rushed over Roman’s arms as the beast let out a huff, all but rolling its eyes as he curled tighter around the man in its nest.

     “Bullshit. That punk would never want death for you. Even if he was gone, he'd roll over in his grave seeing the way you—Hey!”

    The man jumped back as a ring of flames burst forth from the dragon’s nostrils. Heat singed the air of the cave until the beast turned his head to rest his jaw on the unconscious man in his grip, ignoring the supposed god addressing him.

    “I'm not done with you—"

    The man continued to chastise the fearsome beast as though it were no more than a naughty child, allowing Roman to catch his breath. For the first time, Roman was able to take a long glance at the dragon’s hostage.

    He was young, at least a few years younger than Roman himself. His clothes were tattered and worn, barely held together by an amateur selection of purple and blue patchwork. Dark and disheveled hair covering shades of purple on his face. At first Roman worried they may be bruises, but leaning closer, Roman felt dread sink in his stomach as the recognition finally clicked in his mind.

    Purple scales.

    “You know what? Fine.”

    Roman’s eyes shot up as the man who claimed to be a god stepped forward to the body of the injured man in the dragon’s grip.  The beast’s golden eyes were devoid of hostility as the man approached. It seemed almost reluctant to move, clinging to the man in its nest like he was the most important thing in this creature’s life.

    “You win.” The man who called himself Remus stepped forward, voice full of melancholy as he stared down at the limp body of the man with purple scales. “I hate to see a good life cut short like this."

    The man's hand raised in a flourish and the air cracked like thunder as the unconscious man jolted upright with sudden breath. His eyes were wide as his head spun side to side taking in the scene surrounding him. Roman could see him suck in another breath, on the verge of hyperventilating when the dragon’s head curled back to him.

    “Jan, what's going on—?”

    Roman’s grip tightened on his bow. Despite all he'd seen, he still didn’t trust the wild beast not to turn on the kid on a whim. He prepared to lunge forward to protect the stranger, but the action was cut short as a raspy laughter filled the air. The man’s face broke out into a smile as he started to speak in a language Roman had never heard.

    No fear showed in the man's eyes as he threw his arms around the beast's head. Though the beast's head alone was nearly half the size of him, the man didn’t hesitate to close his eyes and press his forehead to the beast's temple. To Roman’s surprise, the beast responded with a series of grunts that seemed to match the man’s foreign tongue.

    “Are you speaking to it?”

    The words stalled in his mouth as the man tensed with fear at his voice, looking almost like a feral cat as he bared his teeth at Roman.

    “Him.”

    Roman’s brow furrowed. From the way he'd been speaking, Roman had half expected the man not to understand the Common tongue, but the single word the man had uttered only served to confuse him more.

    “What?”

    “I'm speaking to him.”

     The man’s snarl curled aggressively on his lips as his eyes narrowed on Roman's bow. He spoke in a heavy accent, spitting out the words with a distinct hiss.

    “Relax,” Roman tucked the bow on his shoulder and held up his hands, taken aback by the man's haste to angry words. “I'm not here to hurt you.”

     “The arrow you put through my gut says otherwise, wyrmkiller.”

     The man moved as if to approach Roman but the beast's tail curled tighter around him as if holding him back.

    “Let me go, Jan.”

    A deep growl resonated in the dragon’s throat. The sound was soft and almost sad as the beast’s jaw came to rest in the man's lap.

     The vitriol in the man's words dropped to a guilty whisper as he turned gaze to meet the beast's eyes. “I'm fine. I promise.”

     Roman's jaw dropped open as the amber scales started to shift. A subtle shimmer trailed up the dragon’s thick skin, muscles changing with grace until what say before him was not a beast, but a man, holding the other in a gentle embrace.

     Much like the man with the purple scale, this one's face glittered with a golden color, trailing up the man's face to slitted eyes. As the shift slowed, Roman could only stare in shock as tears fell from the eyes of the man with the golden scales and his arms curled tighter around the man in his arms.

    Stifled sobs filled the air as Roman’s eyes dipped to the waist of the injured man, finally noting the dark stain and tear on the front of the man's clothing.

     “The arrow—” Roman’s throat suddenly felt dry as realization sunk in his stomach. “I'm sorry. I didn't know you weren’t—"

    “Keep your empty words.”

    “But—"

    The man in purple’s growl drowned out Roman's pleas, letting loose a string of foreign words that Roman could only guess were swears. “Don’t lie to me. You’re only sorry because now I look like you.”

     “No!” Roman held up his hand. Hesitantly, he cast a guilty glance at the pair of men clutching each other as they stared up at him in abject fear. “I—Maybe, but I didn’t know you were intelligent—"

    “You piece of sh—”

    “Hey, I just put that body back together.” Remus chided as the man curled forward, voice stalling as he held his stomach. “Don’t go fucking up my blessing already.”

    The man glared up Remus. He was angry, yet his rough movements reluctantly slowed as he reacted to the creature’s concern. His purple gaze dropped to the ground as he rose to his feet with his partner’s help. With a weary glance at Remus, he pulled his hand away from his abdomen, staring blankly at the speckles of blood on his hand.

    “Fine. Can we leave?”

    “Not yet, my fair-skinned fiend. You know how this works. I just pulled you back from the brink of death.” The shadows around Remus’ eyes grew dark with a sudden rush of power. “You’re not out of hot water yet, Virgil.”

   Roman shivered as a growl resonated deep in the throat of the amber-scaled man, Janus. He crouched defensively as if intending to lunge at the smirking god, but to Roman’s surprise, Virgil raised a hand to stop him.

    “What do you want, my lord?”

    “Oh, so formal! You really  know how to get a man all hot and bothered—”

     Remus' reached towards Virgil in a flirtatious gesture that was cut short as Janus snapped his teeth at the forest god's hand, snarling like a wild animal.

    “Careful, Jan. You don’t know where those fingers have been.”

    “Would you like to find out?” Remus cooed, leaning into Janus’ face as the man snarled at him, letting loose a string of what Roman assumed were more foreign swears.

    Roman flinched as Janus’ statement ended with a deep growl and his golden eyes darted up to Roman.

    “Of course, I'm not letting the prince off the hook. He owes me a pretty piece for striking down one of my beautiful creatures.”

    Remus chuckled as he raised a hand in the air, flourishing a hand toward Roman. The moment elicited a gasp from his lungs as Roman felt himself pulled forward against his will.

    “In fact, our dear prince is going to be the one to set things right for you, lover boy.”

   Roman gulped as he found himself face to face with the angry, slitted eyes of Janus as the dragonshifter loomed over him. A snarl curled on the man's lips, exposing a row of sharp teeth that sent a shiver across Roman’s skin.

    “Personally, I'd love to get little more creative with your punishment,” Remus' lip curled into a dangerous smile. “but seeing as Virgie's living on borrowed time, I'm willing to cut you a break. You catch my drift?”

    “What?”

    “Well, seeing as the lot of you are prepared to slit each others throats, I'd like to propose a new game." Remus purred reaching an arm around Roman's neck. “Work together or pay the price. A life for a life—”

    Roman’s heart sunk as Remus spun him around to face Logan. His eyes were wide, arm tucked around Patton as he stared helplessly at Roman.

    The man's hand snapped behind Roman's ears and he blinked. In an instant, Patton vanished before his eyes and Logan spun on his heels, desperately looking for his brother.

    “Pat—What did you do to my brother?”

     Logan lunged at Remus, but the god sidestepped him with an unnerving amount of speed, chuckling as he smiled cruelly at Logan. Seeing the dangerous glimmer in the man's eyes, Roman lunged forward to catch Logan’s waist, stopping him before Remus could do anything worse.

    “Lo, stop!”

    “He has Patton—”

    “I know.” Roman whispered, pulling Logan into his arms as he let out a pained gasp. “I know.”

    “Do you really think I didn't figure out who made the poison who brought down Virgil?” Remus cocked his head with and indifferent look in his eyes. “As far as I'm concerned, you’re as guilty as our prince.

     “Patton did nothing. If you hurt him—”

     “Cutie's safe and he'll stay that way if you follow my instructions.”

    A loud groan interrupted Remus' rambling. Roman’s head spun around just as Virgil’s knees gave out, collapsing in Janus' arm. His scales were dark against his pallid skin as his partner whispered to him.

    “See, Virgie's not out of the woods yet and I can’t take him where he needs to go. ” Remus’ voice dropped, sincere as he approached the young dragonshifter. “If he doesn’t reach the silver spring in Doragon Valley in three days time, my magic will fail him and your poison will take his life.”

   Roman blinked, feeling Logan still in his grip as Remus raised a hand to the dragonshifter’s cheek. His breathing was unsteady as he leaned his head back into his partner’s shoulder.

   “But Doragon Valley is in the center of the city.” Roman breathed, chilled by the implication of Remus’ words. “The spring is sacred ground.”

    “Exactly, I may be a god but my reach only extends to the edge of the forest.” Remus whispered, turning his hand from Virgil to extend it to Roman. “So, here’s the deal. Take Virgil where he needs to go and save the life you sought to steal or I keep the kid forever.”

    Logan dropped his gaze, going limp in Roman’s grip. Roman could feel his partner’s nails dig into his arm, his chest heaving with grief over his missing brother.

    “Roman, please—”

    “Deal.” Roman interrupted Logan’s breathless plea. “Whatever it takes, we're bringing Patton home.”

    “Thank you.” Logan whispered, taking a small breath and allowing his head to sink into Roman’s shoulder.

    “Good.” Remus smiled, casting a glance at Virgil. “You'd best get moving then. You don’t have much time to spare.”

     With a snap, Remus was gone. An uneasy silence followed  as they stared at their reluctant new allies, lives of those they loved most hanging in the balance as they started their journey.

---

A/N: Alright, that’s the end of my spree writing on this so there won’t be an update immediately after this one, but hopefully I’ll cycle back soon. I can’t wait to write these poor boys having to actually try to work together ~~

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

A Life For A Life:

@arodynamic-enby @pixelated-pineapple @simplestoryteller @bloodymari-0666

[jingabitch]

Armed to the Fangs ch.11

SUMMARY: you grew up in the hunter’s guild, understanding that it is your sacred duty as a hunter to protect humanity from the vampires that lurk in the dark, draining the life from anyone unlucky enough to be caught. while making the rounds one night, you encounter taehyung, a fabled born vampire - not that you know that when he tries to entice you into a dark alley. next thing you know, you’re kidnapped and taken to their home, where you realise that all of them somehow crave your blood and seem to know more about your past than you do. finding out about where you came from might be the key to setting humanity free.

PAIRING: eventual ot7 x reader

WARNINGS: some description of violence, angst, pining, maybe eventual smut but not for a looooong time, slow burn (really the slowest of burns), fainting from blood loss, things move along in this chapter!

RATING: T

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

A/N: thank you @pasteljeon for looking over this for me. hope you enjoy this update before i disappear again LOL

series index

All of them watched with bated breath as you walked across the room. They could hear your heart pounding madly inside your chest, but your footsteps were resolute and steady. If not for their supernatural hearing, they would have been fooled into thinking that you were completely confident.

“Y/n,” Hoseok rasped, his gaze fixed on you. You tried not to think of the gleam in his eyes as predatory.

Clenching your fists to stop your hands from trembling, you perched lightly on the edge of the mattress. Hoseok’s eyes zeroed in on your jugular, on the almost imperceptible motion of your pulse under the thin, sensitive skin. Even as his instincts clamoured for the blood rushing under your flesh that would save him, there was a sense of hesitance, of guilt, and it was reflected in the slightly sluggish way he reached for you, beating back the urge to pounce.

The other boys shared glances. It was all but clear that you didn’t know the extent of the commitment you were making right now. It wasn’t just a one-time thing: this would bind Hoseok – and the others – to you forever. Were you really okay with this?

Tension was high in the room as the boys debated with each other silently over what to do. They knew that Seokjin wouldn’t tell you until after the deed was done. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, after all, and once you were bound to them, there would be time aplenty to make it up to you. Jungkook, on the other hand, had his fists clenched by his sides.

“Wait—” he cried, his cheeks flushed and his brows drawn down into a scowl.

It felt like everything in the room stopped as all the occupants swiveled their heads around to look at Jungkook. He seemed to realize, too, immediately clamming up and ducking his head as all his bravado vanished in an instant.

Luckily for you, Yoongi took courage from his younger brother’s outburst, continuing where Jungkook hadn’t dared to. “There are some things you should know before you commit to this.”

Hoseok, who hadn’t had the energy for a long, drawn-out explanation, slumped back against the headrest with relief – and a little disappointment. After all, if you ran out of here screaming – which was a real possibility – he might not survive it.

Perched lightly on the edge of the mattress, you redirected your attention to Yoongi. From the sombre inflection in his voice, you could tell that what he was going to say was serious.

“Hoseok… he isn’t sick, or dying because of what happened the other day, or anything like that,” Yoongi started, taking some time to gather his thoughts before he launched into the main part of his explanation.

“You triggered… something in him when you met him,” he continued, putting it as delicately as possible. There was a lot of information that you probably shouldn’t have yet, and all of the brothers were in agreement that regardless of whether you bound yourself to Hoseok, it would be too soon for you to know the full extent of your significance to them. Hell, not all of them were even ready to admit to themselves what was going on.

“What is it?” Curious, you leaned forward.

“His body is rejecting packaged blood,” Namjoon cut Yoongi off smoothly with a more elegant explanation that was less likely to send you screaming for the hills. “He can’t keep any of the blood we have on hand down. He needs a live donor.”

“A live donor…” you murmured to yourself, turning back towards Hoseok thoughtfully. You didn’t know if what they were telling you was true, or even plausible, but then again, you weren’t really an expert on vampire anatomy and biology. Unless it was about the most efficient way to dispatch one, of course.

“Not just that,” Namjoon continued. “There are… some people who are more compatible with certain vampires than others.” That was an understatement of the mate bond so severe it was basically mischaracterization. “You and Hoseok just happen to be compatible in that way. Once he drinks from you, he will need to keep doing it.”

That was the key information you needed, they thought. The mate bond, and all of it… none of them were quite ready to lay all their cards on the table, but you had to know that this wasn’t a one-time deal.

You blanched, your head whipping back around to Namjoon, who was leaning against the wall next to the bedroom door. “I… what?” you breathed in shock and some horror. This had to be a trope from a horror movie, right? Being a permanent blood bag, getting drained of your life bit by bit until there was none of it left to sustain you…

There was nothing you could imagine that was more terrifying. Visions of all the drained bodies you’d come across in your life flashed before your eyes, pale, cold, hard, their necks torn and bloody. You didn’t want that, you thought, feeling like you were sinking into a black hole.

Taehyung sprang forward as you swayed slightly, your face pale as you processed the bombshell Namjoon had dropped on you. “Y/n! Are you okay?” he asked in concern, his hands outstretched to catch you if you fell.

“No…” you murmured. “If you’re going to drain me, do it in one shot. Don’t draw it out.” Even faced with the fear of death, your commitment to the debt you owed Hoseok won out. He’d saved your life, and now you would save his – even at the expense of your own. It was the hunter code, and even if you weren’t a hunter anymore, the habits ingrained in you since you could remember were impossible to break.

Despite how faint and thready the sound of your voice was, all the boys heard you fine. It was so silent in the next moment that even you could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then the room exploded into action. There was indistinguishable yelling, and Taehyung lurched forward, grabbing your hands. It seemed you’d tripped over a land mine somehow, though you weren’t sure what it was, or how you’d triggered them.

“Y/n,” Taehyung said, getting way too close to your face. He gave you an imploring gaze, and the sadness in his eyes made you want to turn away in discomfort, though you couldn’t bring yourself to. “Hoseok would never drain you.” His voice, filled with sincerity, made you feel almost guilty for ever thinking that Hoseok would do such a thing, but then you remembered your first encounter with him, and pulled your hands out of his grasp.

“Y/n, I promise you,” Namjoon added. “The bond between m—vampires and their feeders is all but unbreakable. When… if,” he amended hastily, “you let Hoseok feed from you, he will do everything in his power to keep you safe, including from himself.”

You looked up, and Namjoon nodded at you, the conviction in the set of his jaw clear. The rest of the boys were nodding in agreement, and you turned to look at Hoseok, who was still leaning weakly against the headboard. There wasn’t much expression on his face, but he’d marshalled what seemed like the last of his strength to nod at you, leaning forward slightly.

You took a breath, steeling yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice sounding like it could dissipate into the wind. You trembled as you walked towards the bed, but your steps didn’t waver. The time it took you to cross the room felt like a microsecond stretched into eternity, and you were almost surprised when you reached the bed.

Hoseok’s eyes immediately fixed on your neck, watching the almost imperceptible way your vein throbbed. He could hear the thrum of the blood rushing through it, smell the delicious aroma wafting off you. In your agitation, your heart had quickened, and your face had become flushed, making the scent all the stronger.

You could sense more than see the ravenous hunger pouring off the vampire. It might have been because of your hunter training but, you thought, it was more likely the survival instinct of prey animals that made you hyperaware of the intense stare you were pinned under. That same instinct made you want to run for the hills, but instead you fisted your hands in the sheets to anchor yourself.

“Okay,” you repeated, almost like a mantra to keep yourself calm – or at least, looking that way on the outside – as you steeled yourself, leaning closer to Hoseok as you tipped your head to the side to expose the vein that he’d been eyeing so hungrily.

There was a breathless second of anticipation… and then he struck.

Almost absently, you noted the fluid grace to his movements as he grabbed you, the fingers of one hand spearing through the hair at the base of your head to hold your head in that position as the other rested on your shoulder. There was something almost tender about the way his thumb stroked your collarbone. By contrast, the inhuman speed he used to move his head to your neck and sink his teeth into the flesh reminded you that this was no intimate encounter. You were food, and from the muffled moans of satisfaction you could hear coming from Hoseok, a rather delicious meal at that.

Helplessly, you let out a small whimper, your fingers loosening from the sheets. You wondered if it was in your head, or if the slight weakness you felt in your extremities was because of the blood loss. Despite the boys’ assurances that no harm would come to you, the way Hoseok continued greedily gulping down the blood currently gushing into his mouth was definitely cause for concern, you thought.

Just as you were sure you were going to pass out, Hoseok extracted his teeth from your neck, lapping at the wounds to close them and clean the errant rivulets of blood running down your neck. Hopefully he got them all, you thought slightly dizzily. You liked this shirt.

It was nice that Hoseok was still holding on to your hair, you noted as you leaned against his arm. He was basically propping you up at this point.

You were conscious, but just barely, as you felt Hoseok lower you onto the mattress. Yoongi was the first one to step forward, and he pushed your hair out of your face and behind your ear tenderly. “You took too much,” he castigated Hoseok.

“I know,” Hoseok mumbled, looking ashamed.

“No, you’re good.” You didn’t know why, but the misery radiating from Hoseok stirred something in you. Despite how weak you felt, your priority was making him feel better instead of your own self-preservation. “I’m fine, see?” Taking in a deep breath, you tried to push yourself into a sitting position, but the arm you were using to support your weight collapsed, and Yoongi caught you before you flopped back onto the mattress.

“We should let her rest.” Seokjin came closer and rearranged you, tucking you in next to Hoseok. “She’ll need a cookie or something to raise her blood sugar level.”

You meant to get up and protest that you were fine, you could take care of yourself, but you were suddenly so tired and cold, and it was so cozy and comfortable under the sheets that you just let yourself drift off.

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

Your head hurt like you were hungover, but you knew that definitely wasn’t the case because there hadn’t been any parties at the manor. With a groan, you turned over and opened your eyes slightly, wincing.

In a flash, Hoseok was there beside you, slowly helping you up. He looked a lot better than he had earlier, his cheeks rounder and fuller, his eyes sparkling again.

“How long have I been out?” you asked, your voice raspy. Immediately, Jungkook appeared, holding a glass of water out for you. You reached out to take it from him, but he refused to hand it over, instead holding it in front of your face.

Annoyed, you sighed. “I’m not an invalid,” you told him, grabbing the cup anyway. He didn’t let go, and in the end, your hand was around his as you both tilted the cup towards you.

When you drained the glass, Jungkook took it away from you, putting it down on the bedside table, before returning to fuss over you.

“You guys, I’m okay,” you protested, trying to push the covers off your body to get out of bed. This clearly wasn’t your room, and you wanted to go back. “Where’s Injeolmi?”

“Jimin’s looking after him,” Hoseok reassured you. “You can go back to your room, just eat something first?” The imploring gaze he levelled on you left you powerless to do anything but nod at him.

Seokjin must have been eavesdropping, because it wasn’t even thirty seconds after that that he appeared in the doorway, holding a giant tray of food that he set down in front of you.

“Where did you get this?” you asked, bemused. You hadn’t seen a bed tray in the manor before, and it wasn’t something you’d have thought seven vampires living alone needed.

“Just laying around,” Seokjin said cagily before taking the covers off the food. A hearty beef stew, rice, and an array of side dishes sat neatly on the tray.

“Wow,” you marvelled as you picked up the spoon. Seokjin, despite being unable to eat, constantly wowed you with his culinary creations. The boys watched over you closely as you stuffed your face merrily, only seeming to relax when you’d finished every last morsel of food and slumped back, spent, against the pillows.

“You should get some more rest,” Seokjin said as he picked up the bed tray and made to leave the room.

You nodded in response. The carb coma was starting to get to you, and you pushed the covers off, intending to go back to your room to sleep it off. The other boys protested, but eventually gave in, on the condition that Jungkook would walk you back to your room.

Thankfully, you made the short walk back without any mishaps. Jimin was still there with Injeolmi when you came in, but after making sure that you were okay, he left too.

“Hey, baby,” you crooned at Injeolmi, who leapt off the couch and came to weave around your ankles. You picked him up and went to sit on your bed, leaning against the pillows. Leaning your head back and staring at the ceiling, your hand came up to your neck. The wounds had healed almost instantly – some sort of supernatural magic, you were sure – but the skin was still tender.

For the first time, the gravity of the situation sank in. What the hell were you doing? Sure, you’d wanted to save Hoseok, and the vampires had been nothing but nice to you, challenging your perception of them, but one split second decision had shackled you to them forever. All your grand ideas of using your newfound freedom to do something more normal with your life, or maybe travel… all gone in a second. You had to be here at the manor now.

Was this really okay? Being a blood bag for Hoseok? It wasn’t as bad as you’d thought, but that was because you’d been prepared to die today. Losing consciousness from blood loss definitely wasn’t great, and if this was going to happen frequently, your health was definitely going to suffer for it.

You were on the brink of spiraling into a panic when you heard a knock on the door.

“It’s open,” you called, not moving from your position to see who it was.

“Hey,” Namjoon said when he entered, standing in the entrance of the room.

“What is it?” you asked, lifting your head off the pillows to look at him. You shifted the hand that had been resting on your neck down to your stomach, but Namjoon had noticed it anyway.

“I went out and bought those brownies from that shop you like,” Namjoon said, holding up the paper bag.

That was sufficient to tempt you, and you sat up on the bed, crossing your legs. “Wow, what’s the occasion?” you asked, holding your hands out for the brownies.

Namjoon shrugged, handing them over. “You need to get your blood sugar levels up.”

“Right,” you said, scooching off the bed to sit on the floor. You weren’t about to get crumbs on your sheets. Namjoon came and sat down next to you, both of you leaning against the bed frame.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as you popped the box open, picking up the little plastic fork that came inside. Salted butterscotch, your favourite flavour.

“I feel a lot better now,” you said, half distracted watching the fork sink into the brownie. You popped it into your mouth and groaned in bliss. This one shop was open at odd hours of the night, and sometimes you used to pop by to grab a snack after your patrol when you’d had a particularly bad week, or when you were expecting your period.

“I can tell,” he responded drily, watching you savour the sweet treat. Despite his deadpan countenance, the fact that he’d managed to make you so happy made joy unfurl in his chest, suffusing him with warmth. “Jin-hyung told me that you finished all the yukgaejang.”

“Mhm,” you hummed around another mouthful of chocolatey goodness.

“I was talking about emotionally, though. A lot happened today. Are you okay with it?” he asked carefully, ducking slightly to get a better look at your face.

That statement stopped you in your tracks. You swallowed the mouthful of food, then laid the fork back into the box and put it on the ground carefully. Reaching up, you took the bottle of water on the bedside table that you were sure Jimin had left for you when he came back with Injeolmi.

You opened it and took a long, slow sip of water. Then another one, as you gathered your thoughts. When you couldn’t drink any more water or draw it out any longer, you bit your lip before speaking slowly and carefully. “I’ll learn to live with it,” you said, trying to tiptoe around it.

Namjoon frowned. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

You shrugged wearily. “What difference does it make? I made a commitment, and I have to see it through.” As you said it, you knew it was the right answer. You’d give up all the new dreams you’d been nurturing deep in your heart since you’d come to terms with your expulsion from the guild, and repay your life debt to the fullest.

Namjoon hummed. “Why do you seem unhappy, then?”

“I just…” You tried to choke back the sob, but your voice went high and weird, and you had to stop to compose yourself. “I’d been thinking about what I could do with my life, now that I’m no longer a hunter, you know? Maybe travel, or pick up new interests, or something. Normal things that normal people in their twenties do.”

“Well, you could still do that,” Namjoon said, bumping his shoulder against yours.

“How? I have to stay in the manor forever. I won’t be able to travel.” Your shoulders slumped, and you leaned slightly into Namjoon, unconsciously seeking his support.

“You know, we used to travel around the world all the time,” Namjoon said lightly. “So don’t rule it out yet. Things might change again.”

You were about to interrupt to question him, but he’d continued speaking. “And if you want to find new interests, I’m sure we can figure something out. Between the seven of us, our interests run the gamut.”

That made you crack a smile. “Really?”

“Really,” Namjoon confirmed, turning to look at you. You brought your knees into your chest and rested your cheekbone on the tops of them, facing him.

“You already know that Jin-hyung loves to cook. Yoongi-hyung likes music and I’m sure he’d be glad to teach you if you asked. Hoseok used to love dancing, although he hasn’t in… a good while.” Namjoon grimaced at the thought. “You’re always welcome in my library or garden, you know that. Jimin… well… you seem to have bonded well over your love for Injeolmi. Taehyung, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, is into fashion and has been dying to revamp your wardrobe.” He gave a little eye roll at that. “And Jungkook, that little muscle pig, is always working out.”

Blinking, you tried to digest all of that. To be frank, you’d never quite bothered to take note of the boys’ individual personalities and interests, something that made you feel a little ashamed now, since it was clear that they’d been so conscientious about you.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, shooting Namjoon a small smile. “Thank you.”

He smiled back at you, and feeling a lot better, you picked up the pastry box again.

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

“Report.”

“The target was dispatched, sir.” Jennie stood at attention in front of the imposing desk in the Head’s office. Her toes twitched uneasily in her boots, but her gaze remained resolute and steady.

“Excellent. You are dismissed.” With that, Master Bang looked back down at the papers on his desk.

Bowing, Jennie turned to see herself out. It wasn’t until she was back in her room that she allowed herself to relax, sinking onto her knees right in front of her closed door. The bald-faced lie was the last favour she could do her ex-best friend. At least now Master Bang wouldn’t send anyone else after you… at least as long as you were smart enough to lay low.

The moment the door had shut behind Jennie, Master Bang stood up and made his way down the narrow flight of stairs in his bedroom.

“The plan is moving along smoothly, Sir. Y/n has thrown in her lot with the vampire brothers.” There was no way you were actually dead, as Jennie had reported. If you were, he would have a massacre on his hands, led by the born vampires holed up in the manor. Master Bang wondered idly if he should punish Jennie for her dishonesty, but then discarded the idea. He had much bigger fish to fry.

“When I take back my birthright, you will be by my side forever.”

The words warmed Master Bang’s heart. Forever was a long time – just long enough for him to spend with the love of his life.

[fullmetalscullyy]

never meant to change the fire in your eyes

idk what this is? it just came to me. i’ve been listening to this song since it was released and one of the lyrics stuck inside my mind. the lyric really reminded me of royai so after a year i’ve finally got something written down that goes with it. hope you enjoy <3

rated: t | words: 2020 | tags: kidnapping, rescue from kidnapping, hurt/comfort

read on ao3

never meant to change

the fire in your eyes

“Lieutenant?” His call holds as much authority as he can muster. His eyes scan the room dangerously, daring another assailant to jump out on him. There would be no mercy for them if they did. Not after what they’d done to his team.

There’s a muffled cry to his left. Roy’s head whips around and immediately he starts forward. Rounding the boxes stacked haphazardly, he comes across what he’d been looking for.

Or who.

Lieutenant Hawkeye is bound with cuffs and a gag in her mouth. There’s a red mark on her cheek from a blow that sets his body alight and turns his vision red. However she is not hopeless. Her eyes burn with indignation and ire as she rattles her wrist and jerks them, trying to break free from the restraints behind her back.

Swiftly and with a quick transmutation circle Roy sets her free. Once the gag is removed she coughs and scoffs in disgust. It looks clean but Roy is not completely sure. The thought makes him angrier.

“Bastards,” Hawkeye curses under her breath.

Eyes down, she looks at her red wrists and rubs them to ease some pain. Roy follows her gaze, but notices there’s something off. Her movements are jerky and so is her breath. She won’t look him in the eyes despite the fury he’d seen in them before.

“Hey,” he coaxes gently. His gloved hands reach forward and settle gently atop both of hers.

She flinches and it makes Roy’s stomach drop. But she doesn’t stop rubbing.

“Hey, Hawkeye?”

She still doesn’t lift her eyes. She huffs and sighs heavily but it’s shaky. Her body shudders with it. It unsettles Roy, making him wonder what exactly these people had done to her in the few short hours he’d pursued his kidnapped Lieutenant.

“Riza.”

This garners her attention. Her head jerks up and while her lips are pressed into a thin line her eyes are close to owlish and almost fearful. The fire is gone, fizzled out for the moment, now that she knows she’s safe and in good company.

Slowly Roy shifts his weight forward and grasps her chin with care. He’s pleased to notice Hawkeye lets him. She watches him silently, eyes begging for something, but Roy doesn’t know what.

“You’re all right,” he promises. “I’ve got you.”

Her head nods, a tiny movement, before another long sigh leaves her. Hawkeye’s eyes flutter closed and her body tips forward. Roy doesn’t care for propriety as he wraps his arms securely around her. It looks like she could use the support and he’s more than happy to provide it. With her face pressed into his jacket Roy works out the kinks in her hair, running his hands through it. Her clip has disappeared, and it leaves him crestfallen to notice that. It had been a gift. To calm himself and ward off thoughts of revenge against those who had left his dear Lieutenant so shaken, Roy tries to remember where he’d bought the hairpiece last time and wonders where he’d possibly be able to buy her a new one.

Hawkeye pulls away, now composed. Without a word he helps her to her feet. He had no idea how she was faring but getting to her feet seemed promising. However, with past experience, he remembers how she’s one to shoulder and bury everything to get through, leaving it to deal with once she’s alone. For her sake, Roy hopes it is the former, that she is finally calm and ready, and not the latter. Regardless, he’d be right beside her to help. The question was whether she’d let him.

His hand gently grips her elbow, and he holds out his other hand for her to take. She can refuse if she wants to, but he still wanted to offer.

Her fingers slide in between his. A comforting weight. Roy gives them a squeeze as they begin to walk.

“Let’s get out of here,” he offers.

“Home?”

Roy’s lips purse. He wants her to see a doctor, but he knows he cannot force her.

“Wherever you’d like to go,” he replies.

Hawkeye nods and confirms that she’d just like to go home. The team is outside the building standing guard and waiting on an ambulance arriving. Roy had ordered it, just in case. Thankfully, it may not need to be used, however still he hopes it will appear in time for them exiting. Hawkeye may not like it, but she wouldn’t fight if the medics rushed to check her over.

They take the metal steps to the ground floor slowly. He holds on tight and remains as close as he can for support. They’re silent as they move but once they’re halfway down, Hawkeye speaks and breaks the silence between them.

“You’re not even supposed to be here,” she scolds him quietly, but her knees shake and her body falters. Instinctively his hold tightens to catch her as she falls but once Roy realises the gravity of such a reaction his fingers grip onto her even tighter.

“You okay –?”

“Fine.”

Her reply is curt, and Roy thinks her bravado will be her downfall. Unhappy, he sighs quietly but lets it go for now. There’s no point arguing when she’s as shaken as she is. It’s barely noticeable. She hides it well. However the way her hands tremble gives her away immediately to him.

“Don’t ask me not to interfere when I know your life is in danger,” he replies to her reprimand.

As they take their time to walk down the steps she glances over at him out the side of her eye.

“After finding out what they’re after, the whole point was to keep your involvement hidden –”

“Again,” he interrupts, holding onto her tighter, “do not ask me to sit back and dismiss you and your welfare.” He turns his head to look at her, directly into her eyes. “I could never do such a thing.”

In an action that is so like her, Hawkeye sighs and shakes her head. She’s always looking out for him and his image, putting herself second. It irks him. That should never be the case. It’s in her character, burrowed deep into the marrow of her bones, especially after her actions in Ishval. It shouldn’t be, but it is.

Roy hates it.

“You watch my back,” he murmurs quietly, tipping his head so he’s almost speaking into her hair, “and I watch yours.”

He’s daring but he doesn’t care. Ever so gently, Roy presses a kiss against the side of her head. He needs to do it as much as she needs to hear it.

“I keep you safe,” she counters. Her argumentative tone has disappeared and in its place is one that’s softer. “So you can go on. For us both.”

“I cannot go on without you, Riza.”

It’s a risky declaration, but he’s in the mood for it. After discovering she was kidnapped for possibly having ties with flame alchemy, all bets were off. The men were looking for anything to go on, and who better to “ask” than the adjutant and close confidant of the Flame Alchemist himself?

He will accept the responsibility for this and shoulder the guilt, swallowing it deep inside of him with the rest. Because she didn’t deserve this. It had left her completely unsettled – which caused Roy’s anxiety and alarm to skyrocket – and seeing the result of it makes him feel even worse.

“I’m sorry if all of this was a reminder of –”

“It wasn’t.”

She fights him, again. His frustration swells inside his chest, but he lets it go once more. He’s too relieved that she’s all right to muster any kind of fight against her.

“Did they ask or find anything?”

Hawkeye lifts an eyebrow in derision. “As if I would give anything away, sir.”

“I –” Roy swallows his shame and embarrassment. “I know,” he quickly reassures. “I didn’t mean to –” He huffs to himself. “I’m sorry, that’s not how I intended that to come across. Did they…” He struggles to find the right words. “Did they do anything?”

His breath is held tightly inside his lungs. He cannot let it free until he knows the answer. His exhale would either be fraught with fury or relief.

Understanding his question, Hawkeye shakes her head.

His exhale leaves him in a rush.

“Nothing,” she replies. “Nothing apart from a grilling about the alchemy and restraining me.”

His muscles tense because how dare they tie her up like they did.

“I’m sorry it happened to you,” he mumbles as they descend the last step, “it shouldn’t have.”

In response, Hawkeye is silent because what can she reply? Roy expects none but he needed to voice his thoughts.

It’s a loaded apology, both for the events that had transpired today and those that had occurred when she was a child. That damned tattoo on her back had been a burden from the start, but now it still had the potential to cause problems. Even after the agonising steps they’d taken together to hide and destroy it.

Roy’s eyes flutter closed briefly, cursing Berthold Hawkeye for his lack of forethought and desperation to preserve his work.

“They reminded me of him,” she whispers in admittance.

Her father.

She inhales, long and deep. “There was that same madness, that same look in their eyes…” She shudders and his heart breaks.

“I’m sorry.”

Despite the assurances he knew would be coming, Roy still feels miserable because of her revelation. Regardless of whether the tattoo was a choice or forced upon her, it had affected her life completely. It had been put in place so her father could pass his work onto someone she trusted. Berthold probably knew it would be going to Roy because there was no one else in her life.

He could have just told him, Roy thinks angrily. It hurts to think about. She’d been used as a pawn in someone else’s game for his sake.

Roy has always thought Hawkeye should be somewhere where she could be happy, far away from him and the destructive events that cling to and follow him like a poisonous fog. He can’t help but mourn the life she could have had. The life she deserves. There should be a million miles between them, a distance where Roy and his reputation can’t hurt her.

“I’m okay,” she reassures, but Roy is stuck inside his head. He cannot help but doubt her.

“Roy?”

“I’ve caused you nothing but bother again,” he breathes. “I never meant for my actions and desires to drag you down with me. Ever.”

“That’s not your responsibility,” she shakes her head. “It’s my choice to follow you and I do it more than willingly.”

“But this is my responsibility.” His voice is hoarse as he looks down at the ground in shame and sorrow.

“Never.”

The simplicity of the word drags him from the confines of his mind. He risks a glance at her, afraid of what he’ll see. But her expression is open and patient. There’s an understanding there because they are so alike after all they’ve gone through. Both too stubborn and both hypocrites. They preach the other should not blame themselves, and they shoulder the world for them instead. They cannot and refuse to follow their own advice.

“I’m okay,” she stresses.

Roy’s grip tightens on her, subconsciously holding her closer. “Are you sure?”

Hawkeye nods. “It’s all in the past. It’s all been dealt with. It was just a momentary shock.” Her eyes look into his. “I’m fine now,” she promises. “You found me,” she adds, as if that were the only solution she required to make her feel better.

A shuddering breath leaves him.

“I always will,” he vows.

A soft sigh passes by her lips. Ever so slightly, she leans into him. He removes the hand from her elbow and wraps it around her back instead to pull her close to his side. With him supporting her they walk out into the bright sunshine, seeing the medics already running across.

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (8)

I’ve always wanted to write a sleepover/truth or dare fic, but I never could come up with a plot. This is my wish fulfillment. 

Ao3 | FF.net

—

In Which Nino is Sus

“So what does one do at the beginning of a sleepover?” Asked Plagg. “Is it like it is in the movies?” 

“Some things are similar,” Alya provided, digging through her duffel. “First, one must change into their pajamas.” She held up an oversized t-shirt and red flannel pants. 

“Oh! I get it!” Plagg undid his button. 

“What are you doing?” Asked Nino, looking meaningfully to the girls in the room. 

“Changing?” And Plagg dropped his pants in one fluid motion. 

Alya saw it coming and turned away with a laugh. 

But Marinette caught an eyeful (as much as Adrien in boxer briefs could be considered an eyeful) before she too turned away with an ‘eep!’ 

“I change in front of people all the time,” Plagg explained. “As a model that is. Not my fault you’re all shy. I’ve got underwear on.” 

“Well if Sunshine isn’t ashamed, then I’m not going to make a big deal out of it.” Alya stopped shielding her face, though she didn’t look directly at him. 

Plagg peeled his shirts off next, eliciting another squeal from Marinette. 

“I, for one, will be changing in the bathroom,” said Alya, PJs in hand. 

Plagg bent over and ruffled through his bag, derrière within smacking distance to Marinette. 

“I-I-I’ll join you,” said Marinette, scrambling to get her PJs.

Alya was already halfway out the door. “Wait your turn, M.” 

And Marinette was forced to wait as Adrien stepped those long, beautifully toned legs into a pair of...oh, Ladybug spot patterned pants. Then he slipped on a shirt covering those perfect, sculpted abs. 

The shirt was red, and had words sharpied onto it, but it wasn’t until he got it on and smoothed it out that she could read what it said. 

“Ladybug’s sexiest fan.” 

She laughed. Not a laugh of, ‘oh, that’s funny’ but a laugh of ‘why me God?’

“Your turn, M!” Alya sang, coming into the room. Her eyes landed on Adrien. “Where did you get that shirt?? I need one!” 

Plagg puffed out his chest. “Sorry Alya, this is a one of a kind piece! I made it myself!” 

“It’s really good for being hand drawn!” 

“Thanks!” He beamed. 

From his bag, Adrien had to wonder when Plagg had the time to make such a thing.

Marinette excused herself to change, and immediately Alya and Nino whirled on him. “What was that??” 

“What was what?” 

“That strip tease! What the heck?!” 

“Oh that? Well, when you have a bod like mine, you gotta flaunt it on occasion.” 

“Sure Dude,” Nino raised a brow. “But like, we just talked last week about how you were having self confidence issues. Why the change?” 

Plagg had forgotten about that conversation. Granted, he had tried not to listen to it, since it wasn’t a conversation for him...

“Well, you know how it is when you’re around people you trust.” 

“You’ve got the hots for Marinette!” Alya blurted. 

Plagg played bashful. “Well...maybe a little...” 

She squealed in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Oh em gee! I’ve been waiting for this day for forever! You have to ask her out! She’ll say yes, I promise!” 

“Oh, I know about her crush.” Plagg explained, “I just wanted to...encourage her to confess herself.” 

Alya and Nino both went wide-eyed. “You knew? Since when?” 

“And you didn’t tell me?” Nino asked, slightly hurt. “I thought I was your wingman.” 

“It’s a recent thing.” At least for Adrien it was. “I haven’t really had to think things through. I’m just...having fun and flirting.” He quirked a smile. “I am flirting, right? I’m not coming off like a creep, right?” 

“Oh no no,” Alya insisted. “You’re a natural! How did you find out?” 

Plagg twirled a lock of hair close to his scalp. “I have my ways.” 

Nino narrowed his eyes, the action going unnoticed by Plagg. 

Marinette returned, wearing pink shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. 

From Adrien’s point of view, she looked adorable, and he wished he could just pull her into a hug and snuggle up with her...maybe press a kiss to her temple. 

“There you are, Princess. We missed you!” Plagg chirped. 

Marinette blushed. “I was gone for like a minute.” 

“Oh but it felt so much longer! Nino and Alya were making out the whole time! It was torture!” 

“We did not!” Alya barked. “Don’t you lie to my girl!” 

“Don’t listen to her,” Plagg insisted. “She was sucking the soul out of him.” 

Alya gasped in mock horror. “You keep your vulgar rebellion away from my innocent baby!” 

Plagg wrapped his arms around Marinette, pulling her towards him. “On the contrary, I think I’ll pull Marinette with me into the depths of my depravity!” 

“Nooo!” Alya cried. “What horrors do you plan to subject her to?” 

“Well, I know I can’t convince her to dress like me.” 

“Over my dead body,” Marinette agreed, her face red hot. 

“But perhaps she will sneak out of her house like me?” He leaned in closer to her ear and purred. “We can stay out all night doing who knows what?” 

Marinette gave a full body shiver, wriggling away from him. “Uh, you don’t—I’m not very good at—surely they’ll notice—“ 

Plagg smiled to himself. God it was so funny seeing her so flustered. 

“Alright,” said Alya, pulling him away. “Give her a break before she combusts.” 

Nino watched with narrowed eyes, but they softened before Plagg could notice. 

“So? What’s next on the agenda?” Asked Plagg, still in great spirits. 

“Since this is a first sleepover for Adrien,” began Alya, with bravado, “I have an assemblage of traditional sleepover games. Including,” she slammed down a box. “Truth or dare.” 

Nino and Marinette both moaned. 

Plagg sat a little straighter at the reaction. “Oh, a game that causes suffering. Do tell!” 

“You’ve never heard of truth or dare?” Asked Nino. 

Plagg shook his head. “Never been to a sleepover, remember?” 

“Yeah, but you’ve at least had to hear about it in movies or books, right?” 

Plagg shrugged. “Maybe I just don’t remember. What are the rules?” 

“Simple,” explained Alya. “On your turn, you get to pick between truth or dare. Dare is an action you must do, and truth is a confession you have to make. Once you do it, you get to come up with the next person’s truth or dare.” 

“Oh yes, this sounds familiar now. What is the box for?” 

“Suggestions.” She opened the lid to reveal two sets of cards. “I’m sure we can all come up with two or three really good truths or dares, but these are in case we run out.” 

“Passes?” Asked Marinette. 

“Everyone gets one pass.” 

Plagg had to keep that in mind. While this game could be really fun and he could lie his way through most of it, he had the potential of ruining his master plan. 

But these kids wouldn’t try to oust Adrien’s brand new crush on the same night they learned about it. 

Right? 

Alya set a bottle sideways on the floor. 

“What’s that?” Plagg asked. 

“Since we can’t play ‘Spin the Bottle’, we’ll use it as a player picker.” 

“What’s ‘Spin the Bottle’?” 

“A kissing game.” Marinette provided. “You spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on, you kiss.” 

“Sounds spicy, but not a good game for just the four of us if you two are dating...” Plagg gestured between Alya and Nino. 

“Now you get it!” 

“So who goes first?” 

“I’ll go, because I suggested the game.” Alya sang, spinning the bottle. 

Plagg glanced at Marinette, who had her fingers crossed. Obviously hoping that she wouldn’t face Alya’s wrath. 

The bottle slowed to a stop pointing at Nino. 

“Narts…” 

“Alright babe, Truth…or Dare?” 

“Dare I guess.” 

“Perfect! I dare you to shave your legs.” 

“What!” Nino cried. 

Plagg barked out a laugh. “Oh she got you good!” 

“I’m not going to shave my legs!” 

“You have to, it’s a dare.” Alya protested. 

“Fine, I’ll do it later.” 

“Nope. Right now, Mister. Hop to it!” 

Nino groaned in defeat before rising to his feet. “Fine, I’m going.” 

“Do you need help?” 

“I know how to shave!” And Nino stormed off to the bathroom. 

“That was a pretty extreme dare for our first round.” Said Marinette. “How are we going to beat it?” 

“Oh the hair will grow back, and he never wears shorts. I could have dared him to shave his head. I’m sure there will be more amazing opportunities!” Alya sang. 

“So, are we waiting for him before we keep going?” Asked Plagg. 

“Might as well, don’t want him to feel left out.” 

“So these dares...how extreme is extreme?” Plagg asked, curling his legs up underneath him. 

Alya and Marinette shared a look, entertained on Alya’s end, and fear on Marinette’s. 

“Well, we all have one pass...” mused Alya. 

“Nothing physically detrimental or permanent!” Marinette objected. “Like a tattoo or piercing or something!” 

“Pft, that leaves a whole lot of open space.” 

“And nothing traumatic or emotionally detrimental.”

Plagg flapped his lips like a horse. “Now you’re being a party pooper.” 

“Oh!” Said Alya with a snap. “Lila said you guys had a photoshoot yesterday, but she didn’t tell me anything else. She usually tells me all about it! What happened?” 

Plagg chuckled. “Oh nothing in particular. I was just telling her about Magic.” 

Alya groaned. “Oh don’t even get started on it. Ever since Nath introduced it to you guys, Nino won’t shut up about it! It’s ‘Blue Black’ this, and ‘tarmogoyf’ that. I’m glad you guys are all bonding, I am, I’m just so lost!” 

“So you talked to Lila about that card game?” Marinette probed. 

“Yeah, basically the whole time.” He sent her a wink on the sly. “I can’t imagine that would have given her a bad experience. I thought she was my friend...” he played sad. 

Thankfully, Alya bought it. “Aww, Sunshine, maybe something else happened when you weren’t there. Don’t take it too harshly.” 

“NINO MICHELE LAHIFFE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY RAZOR!?” 

“IT'S FOR A DARE MOM! I’LL CLEAN UP AFTERWARDS!” 

“THERE IS BLOOD ALL OVER THE TUB! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” 

“I’M SHAVING MY LEGS! I HAVE HAIRY ANKLES!” 

“GIVE ME THAT! I’LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO IT!” 

“MOOOOM I KNOW HOW TO SHAVE!!” 

The three teens in the room sprawled on the floor, gasping for air and desperate not to laugh too loud. 

Alya had tears in her eyes. “Oh my god he’s going to kill me.” 

“We’ll plan a beautiful funeral for you.” Marinette teased. 

Eventually, Nino rejoined the group, hiking his pants up so his legs were visible. “Ba-BAM!” 

Alya dragged a hand up his calf. “Damn babe, you clean up nice!”

“Don’t get used to it.” 

“Now you know my struggle.” She sassed back. 

“Al, I never gave you a hard time about unshaved legs. If you can put up with mine, I can certainly put up with yours.” 

Plagg turned to Marinette. “It’s certainly fascinating what couples will argue about, Hmm?” 

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s funny...” 

“Alright Nino, your turn to spin the bottle.” Alya gestured. 

Nino cracked his knuckles. “Don’t mind if I do!” And he gave it a whirl.

It landed on Marinette. 

“Truth or Dare?” 

“Umm...truth?” 

Nino smiled fiendishly, a smile that was uncharacteristic for him. “Okay. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done to get your crush to notice you?” 

Marinette gasped in horror. “NINO!” 

“You could pass.” 

“And then for the rest of the game I live in terror that I’m going to get something worse? No.” 

Plagg leaned in closer, head in his hands, trying and failing not to look extremely curious. “Soo?” 

“So what?” 

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done to get your crush to notice you?” 

Her face colored brightly, all the way up to the tips of her ears. 

“We’re all friends here, M.” Assured Alya. “And you don’t have to say who it is.” 

Finally, Marinette exhaled slowly and admitted, “there’s been a lot. And I’m not sure if I can pick just one above the others...but the least incriminating would be the voicemail.” 

Alya chuckled. “Ah, the voicemail.” 

Marinette covered her eyes with both hands, but continued. “It was normal at first. I rambled a little bit through it, stammered it out…just asked him if he wanted to go to the movies, and then…instead of hanging up like a normal, sane person. I threw my phone, while it was still recording. I then proceeded to say a bunch of stuff to Alya, like ‘I couldn’t have just said ‘blah blah blah’ and the phone recorded the whole thing.” 

“And he didn’t say anything about it?” Asked Nino.

“It gets better,” Alya smirked.

“No…because he never heard it…I stole his phone and deleted it.”

“YOU STOLE HIS PHONE?!” Plagg shouted. He was 1) Shocked that such an occurrence happened around him. He was pretty diligent around Adrien’s belongings. God knows the amount of times Lila had tried to rifle through his bag. And 2) Shocked and delighted that Marinette had the guts to do something so radical. “That’s amazing, Marinette!”

“It’s not amazing!” Marinette lamented. “I’m a phone thief!” 

“She stole mine too,” smiled Alya. “She’s a scoundrel.”

“I am! I am a scoundrel!”

“So what did the voicemail say?” Asked Plagg, much too invested in this story.

Marinette blushed even brighter, pulling her shoulders up to her ears. “You can’t ask that! You have to wait your turn!” 

“Oh clever. I see. Well then, I’ll hold on to that for now.” He chuckled. “It’s your turn to spin the bottle.” 

Marinette relaxed slightly, thrilled that she had made it through the question with minor embarrassment (and her secret crush unaware, as far as she knew.) She spun the bottle with gusto.

It landed on Plagg. 

“Oh boy.” Plagg winced. 

“Ha! Truth or dare?” 

“Hmm…I’ll do a dare.” 

“I dare you to call Principle Damocles, pretending to be your father.” 

“Oh my god yes!” Cheered Alya. “Anyone have his number?”

“I do, for student council purposes. Best not use my phone then.” 

Plagg took out Adrien’s phone, unlocking it, and handed it over to Marinette. 

She dialed the number. “All you have to do is start the call.” 

“What should I say?”

“Don’t get anyone in trouble.” Marinette warned. 

“Oh, and don’t give him a reason to call back and follow up.” 

“Okay…I got an idea.” He hit the call button. 

After a few heart pounding seconds, he answered. “Hello, Principle Damocles here!” 

“Yes, quite, this is Gabriel Agreste.” Plagg said, in his perfectly flawless impersonation. 

The other three in the room had to hold their breath to avoid laughing out loud. 

“Ah, Mr. Agreste! To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I assure you, monsieur, this conversation will not be a pleasure. Do you think you’re a good administrator?” 

“I uh…” 

“No stammering, I hate stammering!” 

“Yes! I think I’m very accomplished!” 

“My son came home with a cold today.” Plagg narrowed his eyes, putting anger in his voice. 

“Oh well…I’m very sorry to hear that, sir. But after all, this is a school with many children, they’re bound to pass colds along.” 

“How is your sanitation? Do you regularly clean tables and desks?” 

“I-well, not usually the desks. The floors, yes, and the bathrooms…” 

“And the air system? Do you keep good air flow?”

“The courtyard is open air, so yes, there should be—“ 

“Is your heater running?” 

“It should be! It’s March after all!” 

“Well then, you better go catch it.” And he hung up. 

As soon as he pulled the phone away, all three of his friends were on the floor, crying with laughter. 

“OH MY GOD! THAT WAS THE BEST!” 

“Flawless setup, flawless execution.” Alya giggled. 

Marinette rubbed the tears from her cheeks. “Man, your impersonation of your dad is spot on.” 

“I have a lot of practice.” Plagg shrugged. Plagg’s impression in his own body was pretty good, but combined with Adrien’s vocal chords, it was just too good. Almost too much power.

The game continued onward. With the dares becoming even more crazy. Nino ingested a random concoction of sauces Alya had brewed in the kitchen, while Alya displayed her acting prowess in pretending to be a baby being born. The truths were pretty good, as Nino had confessed to having a secret Gumby fetish, and Marinette had to admit that she had accidentally peed her pants at a water park last summer. 

Then Alya spun the bottle, only for it to land on Plagg. 

“Dare.”

Alya grinned manically, and Marinette felt a chill creep down her spine. Alya had a tendency to go too far, and this would be one of those times where she tried to help Marinette out. 

“Adrien Agreste…I dare you…to kiss…Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

Plagg had seen it coming a mile away. It was so predictable. And yet he had been considering what to do. He still had a pass. Kissing humans, while he was human or not, was not up there on his list of things he enjoyed. 

Oh, what the hell. It wasn’t his body!

Marinette’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You can’t make him do that! Adrien, you can pass! I won’t be offend—“ 

Then she was laying on her back, with Adrien’s wonderful, perfect frame pressing her against the floor. His lips were on hers, full, and absent of any hesitation. 

Someone wolf-whistled. 

Before she could even think of how to respond, he clamored off of her, and sat up. “That good enough for you?” 

“Damn, I wish you had warned me so I could have got a picture!” 

“No way! What happens at Nino’s stays at Nino’s!” 

“You good down there, girl?”

Marinette let out a string of consonants.  

“You broke her,” Nino mused. 

“Worth it.” He slyly gazed back to his overnight bag, where Adrien was hiding for the evening. Only his eyes, glowing green slits, full of anger were visible.

Plagg just smirked, and then winked. 

— 

Marinette and Alya left at 9. Marinette because she had to ‘wake up early’ and Alya because she wanted to ‘get homework done’. Plagg saw it for what it really was. They were going to gossip about his little stunt for a while. 

“Wanna play UMS?” Nino asked, once the girls had left. 

“You know it!” 

Nino gestured him forward, letting him lead the way to Nino’s bedroom. 

But upon entering the bedroom, Plagg heard the door close, heard a bang, felt an extreme pain in his head, and then blacked out. 

—

When he awoke, the room was dark. 

He was sitting in a chair, Nino’s computer chair, with his hands and feet bound with duct tape. 

The pain in his head swelled again, as a bright light was flashed in his face. 

“Uh, what the hell?” He grouched. 

“Are you okay dude?” Nino asked, with sympathy. 

“Besides the concussion? Just peachy.” 

Nino sighed in relief. “Oh good.” Then his voice took on an edge he had never heard before. “Now, who are you, and what have you done with the real Adrien?” 

Plagg blinked once, twice. “Pardon?”

“You heard me. Where is my best friend?” 

“I...don’t know what you mean? I’m just me, Nino?” 

“Oh no no no,” anger creeped into his voice. “You may have everyone fooled, but I know better! Marinette thinks you’re having a crisis, Alya says the fame and fortune have gone to your head, but I know Adrien! And I know that you aren’t him!��� 

Still slightly shocked, Plagg had to ask, “what makes you say that?” 

“Evidence A: you’ve been wearing sunglasses to hide your weird cat-pupils. And I know they aren’t colored contacts, because Adrien lamented to me that he couldn’t wear colored contacts with his astigmatism!” 

Plagg blinked again. “Shit dude, got me there.” 

“Evidence B: at dinner, Marinette offered an array of macrons, and instead of your hard and true first choice of passion fruit, you went with pumpkin spice! You never went for the passion fruit!” 

“I just...wanted to be adventurous?” 

“Evidence C: the kiss.” 

“Of course.” 

“Even if Adrien was head over heels madly in love with Marinette, he is far too meek to kiss her like you did tonight.” 

“Facts.” 

“So, I’ll ask you one more time. Who are you, and where’s the real Adrien?” 

Plagg considered this for a moment, but only a moment before answering. “Yeah, you got me. I’m not Adrien.” 

Nino pumped his fist in victory. “I knew it! I told the girls but they didn’t believe me!” 

“Adrien’s in my overnight bag.” 

Before Nino could check himself, Adrien came spiraling out to reprimand him. “Plagg! You can’t just give away our situation like that! What happened to secrecy? Secret identities?!” 

Plagg shrugged. “He obviously had me figured out. Mortals are particularly stubborn when they know a truth.” 

Adrien didn’t argue anymore as he was scooped out of the air and crushed to Nino’s chest. “Dude! I’ve been so worried!”

“I’m okay. A little traumatized, but okay.” Adrien squeaked out. 

Nino held him in his hands. “What happened? Why are you—hey, you’re a Kwami!” 

“The Black Cat Kwami,” Plagg clarified. 

“So that means...you’re Chat Noir!” 

“Yep. And now you’re the only other human that knows.” 

“I figured Carapace could keep the secret.” Plagg hummed. “Wayzz certainly trusts him enough.” 

“But Hawkmoth knows who Carapace is...or was...” 

“And he hasn’t bothered me since,” Nino offered. “I don’t think he cares?” 

“See? Everything is copacetic. Now unbind me mortal, or face the consequences.” 

“What consequences?” Asked Adrien with a laugh. “You’re in my body. You can’t do anything!” 

“I can still cast my lip chapping spell.” 

There was a brief knock at the door before Mrs. Lahiffe entered. It was enough time for Nino to hide Adrien in his hands. 

“Alright boys, dad has to wake up early tomorrow, so make sure to keep it down!” 

“MOOOOM! I’m in the middle of an interrogation!” 

“Well, interrogate quietly, honey.” And she closed the door. 

“Okay, one of you, explain what the heck is going on?” 

Adrien held his tail. “It’s my fault. I pissed Plagg off and he punished me.” 

“Sounds an awful lot like his fault, dude.” 

Plagg scoffed. “Fine, I’ll take responsibility for this amazing master plan! Adrien was complaining about his unrequited love life, his poor relationship with his father, and Lila’s constant sexual harassment. So I told him that could fix it all if he agreed to it.” 

“And the solution was to...swap bodies?” 

“I didn’t know!” Adrien defended. “I thought...well I don’t know what I thought. He just said he would fix it. I guess I didn’t imagine it would be this...” 

“In my defense...” started Plagg, “it is really fun to mess with Adrien.” 

Nino mostly ignored him. “So what has to happen to get you to switch back?” 

“Well, we have to get Marinette to confess to me, making our crushes mutual.” 

“Ah, I see.” Nino said sagely. “That makes sense. What else?” 

“I have to get Lila to leave me alone. Like, permanently.” 

“I guess I didn’t realize she was that much of a problem. I know you mentioned that she was harassing you...” 

“That’s not even the half of it. Marinette told me, Chat Noir me, that Lila has been actively threatening her.” 

Nino frowned. “Threatening her with what?” 

“Taking all of her friends and me away from her. I got Lila to lay off by allowing her to model with me, but since Plagg and I swapped bodies, she’s threatened to go back on our deal. If Plagg can get her to drop the whole thing, that would be ideal. But to fulfill the contract, he has to get her to leave me alone.” 

“And she’s been falling for it, hook, line, and sinker.” Said Plagg, with pride. 

“What did you do?” 

“I just explained Magic: The Gathering to her.” 

“...and? I mean, I know it’s a game that’s pretty hard to visualize in your head.” 

“I explained it badly, and gave her no chance to talk. For about four hours.” 

“Oh! So you’re annoying her?” 

“He’s annoying everyone.” Adrien clarified. 

“That’s how I got to school today. Gabriel put the house on lockdown and I serenaded him until he let me out.” 

“You were serious about that?” Nino chuckled. 

“Naturally!” 

“Wait, so the last thing is your dad?” 

“Yeah, Plagg has to fix our relationship.” 

“WOOF! That’s a tall order! Well, I better get used to having a Kwami as a best friend.” 

“Oh come on, Nino!” Plagg groaned, “have some faith in me, dude.” 

“Dude, I have all the faith in you. But I also know Adrien’s tyrant of a father. Unless you do brain surgery, you aren’t changing his mind.” 

Plagg seemed to consider this. “Hmm, brain surgery...” 

“No, NO!” Adrien reprimanded. 

“I’m just kidding. I know it’s going to be tough, but I know a thing or two about manipulation and lust for control. Gabriel is cracking. It’s more and more evident every time I push him. And once he cracks, he’ll listen.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Asked Nino. 

“Yes, but not right now. I have a great use for you soon, Nino Lahiffe.” 

“Don’t talk like that,” Adrien reprimanded. “It’s freaky.” 

“Oooo someone’s still bitter about not getting to kiss his crush~!” 

“I’M NOT BITTER!” Adrien yowled. 

“Bitter like an old grapefruit! I got to kiss pigtails and you’re grumpy!” 

“SHUT UP!” 

“Are you guys always like this?” Nino asked. 

“Sometimes, when Plagg is being annoying.” 

“Which is often. I am a creature of mischief and chaos.” 

“Which explains a lot…” Nino murmured. 

“Hey, are you going to teach me to play UMS or not?!”

[malethirsty]

Beats, Alleys & Seats - Billy (Asphyxiation) / Kinktober 2020

Summary: Tired of coming up short at the bar, you decide to step out of your comfort zone, but when you entangle with the club’s bad guy Billy, you step becomes a massive leap. 

Warnings: Smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!), Choking-BDSM (Have a safe word!)

Whilst it seems like a Gen Z thing, clubbing has been a tradition passed on through the generations, whether it be your folks at a punk rock bar, a disco lounge, or you at a nightclub with Dance music, the aim is still the same, arrive, drink till you get drunk, tipsy or have enough to still stay safe, dance around to the music, live in the moment and then leave when the times right with someone new on your arm, or head out alone, filled with the memories of how good the night was and crave the opportunity to return when you can. You had done the latter so many times that you’d become tired of constantly coming up short, so as you eschewed your usual nightlife clothes and donned something more risqué, coated in leather, striding down to the club on the side of the street of your apartment complex, one aim was on your mind: Get Thoroughly Fucked. You’d become a regular at the bar, so getting in through the line wasn’t an issue, and you were once again met with the thudding of EDM and strobe lights flashing an array of colours as people moved around in random patterns fitting their definition of the word ‘dancing’. You’d decided tonight instead of throwing yourself into the music, you’d strike right at the heart of the source of lonely patrons looking for a casual fuck: The Bar.

So you crossed over to the counter where people were collecting their drinks and moving along to tables so they could sip and relax, deciding spur of the moment on your order “Sex On The Beach please” you told the bartender, who immediately grabbed together the various juices, vodka and the cocktail shaker “Looking for some action tonight?” the tender quizzed as he shook the mixer, tossing it around a bit to wrangle the mixtures together “Yeah” you responded “You’ve got your work cut out for you. You need to approach the right person at the earliest hour, otherwise you’ll get waved on, clubbers are vicious, especially when it gets real late like now.” Whilst you nodded and gave a courteous ‘uh huh’ at his advice, innerly you realised how deep you’d have to dive in order to secure your catch of the night, however as you scanned the room, you caught sight of a table with one of the regulars drinking alone, he was wearing a leather vest, was decked in tattoos on his sleeves, and looked like he knew how to fuck someone up, both literally and sexually. You had recognised him as he was often in the bar on the nights you came, he didn’t usually stay for long, usually he’d leave with some girl, or get into a fight due to sleazy behaviour and have to be escorted out by the security guards, you knew he was hot, and had wanted to approach him before, but alongside his various exhibits, your nerves held you back, not tonight though. 

Your revery was interrupted by the bartender tapping you on the shoulder, you turned as he presented you with your cocktail of choice. You paid the tender and shot a thank you his way as he left to continue to take orders from the other patrons coming up the bar, taking the cocktail, you made your way over to your targets table, swerving around so as to not knock over your cocktail by colliding with passing raving clubbers. You eventually arrived without spilling a drop, and crossed over to the man, taking a seat on the lounge directly opposite his position on the table. He looked up as you took your seat, before staring down at his glass before commenting “Usually people ask if the seat’s taken before they sit with someone.” He seemed a bit disgruntled, brought on by the beers he’d been going through, but you didn’t come all this way to not stand your ground “If this seat had been taken, it wouldn’t be occupied for long, you’d be out dancing with the person, or fucking their brains out in the bathroom. And when were you such a stickler for this clubs rules?” He looked up “You a fucking staff member or something? Tailing me so you can get on my ass later?” You took a sip of your cocktail, the liquid seemingly giving you the confidence to retort “No just a humble fan who’s a regular here. And I’d rather you on my ass, but somewhere in private rather than get you thrown out again, eh?” “Feisty aren’t cha, I like em feisty, what’s your name pretty?” “Y/N” you responded, this was going well “Y/N” he repeated as if swishing the way it sounded around in his mouth “Well Y/N, my names Billy. You might wanna drink up before someone spikes your drink.” 

Taking his advice head on, you skulled the rest of your drink, not an easy task, given the fact your cocktail contained vodka, the Russian delicacy burning your throat as it went down. You hacked a bit, gulping for air, but you were determined to not let this break you “Damn, that shit’s strong.” You commented mattarfactly to Billy, as if you were making a comment about the weather, he raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed “Scrawny guy like you, didn’t think you’d be able to handle that, people like you pussy out and make it without the vodka so they can swig it better.” “Do they now? Well to tell you something, don’t let my looks fool you, I can take em hard.” You knew your innuendo had worked as Billy shifted on the lounge, due to the fact that his dick had begun to harden in his pants. Knowing you were getting to him, you continued “In fact, this is quite tame, but what do you expect from this bar, you have soft drinks, weak ass security, and one night stands who’s holes are so wide, they can’t even grip your dick properly.” “You’re a regular here, what does that say bout you?” Billy sharply responded. Damn, he was good, but you were better, you knew it so you did what you could to counter his smart retort “I told you, don’t let my looks fool me, I’m not one of the usual girls who flings their panties at you begging you to get your dick wet, I’m taking my time, working out what gets you off, so that when I get to ride that wave of orgasm later, I’m not the only one getting off.” “And what do I like Y/N?” Billy questioned, his voice now becoming very soft, his bravado dropping, as if testing you “You like someone to be on your wavelength, to acknowledge you, how sharp you are, how hot you are, but also someone who can sink beneath you so you are still in charge. And if you let me Billy, I can be all that and more, so, what do you say big boy?” 

Billy swallowed deeply, before letting out a heavy breath, leaning over the table he whispered in your ear “I say you should come over here, sit on my lap and give me a test ride Mr. Confident.” The dance floor at this point was packed with people, so thankfully the security couldn’t see you as you crossed over to Billy’s side of the sofa and sat on his lap, his erection prominent against the fabric of his pants. You slowly began to work yourself up and down, giving him his own personal lap dance to the thudding of the EDM coming from the speakers. It was softer in the sofa areas speakers, so you could clearly hear the pleasurable groans and encouragement Billy was whispering to you “Oh yeah Y/N, that’s right, show daddy what he’s working with.” After a slow but seductive performance, he gripped onto your ass cheeks and began to move you to the beat, a lot rougher than your initial pace “God this would feel incredible with your walls wrapped around me as I pump into your slutty ass, make you moan as I fuck you like the bitch you are, fuck!” He breathed the last part out in pleasure as he grabbed your right hand which you’d used to balance yourself on him and slid it in his pants, coming into contact with his dick, hard and pulsating in your grasp “That’s what your doing to me Y/N, you’ve made me so fucking hard, got me so close to coming in my pants.” You knew you had him in the palm of your hand now, there was no way you weren’t gonna get your back blown out tonight. “Take me out of here Billy, show me what a good time with you is really like.” He grinned at you “Now you’re really gonna get it you fucking slut, follow me.” He growled out, and gripping onto your hand, you both worked your way through the bar and made it outside, tension rising all the while. 

You walked a considerable distance across from the bar before Billy made a sharp abrupt turn into an empty alleyway, slamming you into the wall as he smashed his lips to yours. Whilst they were thin, he still made the kiss impactful, and it was easier for him to slip his tongue into your mouth, the two of you doing a mouthy tango with the other for a while until he wrenched you away “On your knees” he demanded, and adrenaline pumping through your system, you obeyed, sinking down, pulling his pants down as you went down, his thick cock dropping out, incredibly hard from both your dirty talk and the lap dance as well, precum slicked on it “While I love that your admiring my cock, it would be better if you were choking on it as I fucked your mouth.” The filth purring out of Billy was utter music to your ears, and without further ado, you sunk down onto his cock, pushing his length down as far as you could go “Yeah that’s right, get daddy all down your throat baby” Billy purred as you encased his length in your hot, wet mouth. With a good idea of how much you could handle, you began to suck, up and down you went, cries of lust coming from the bold man above you, shimmering in the dark light of the alley. “God damn, you’re fucking professional at this shit, you sure you’re not a whore?” You moved off his cock to respond “No I’m not” Billy’s hand suddenly surged down, grasping your hair and shoved you back onto his cock “I didn’t say you could stop, now you’re gonna take me right down to the base, till your lips are touching my balls” you now started to gag around him, spit flying from your throat onto his member “Fuck yeah, drool over this cock, get it wet for when I fuck you bareback, pump my load inside you!” 

As he continued to push you down on his cock, you began to get caught up in the moment, a light sensation ripping through you as you choked on his dick, whilst choking could be deadly and bad for your airways, for some reason, as you struggled to focus your breath in through your nose and not your mouth, it was as if you were floating on air, midway between the ground and the sky, you’d never experienced anything like it before but loved it immensly. Wanting Billy to experience the same high, you began to roll his balls, eliciting cries from the man above you “OH FUCK! Yeah that’s right, work those balls Y/N, Jesus Christ you’re gonna make me cum in your mouth!” You realised the sudden grip of your hair had gone, Billy’s hands now flat against the wall as he arched forwards, taking advantage, you pulled off his cock with a loud slurp, causing Billy to groan in confusion “Huh, what?” “I think you said something about wanting to fuck me, and if that’s the case, we should make the way back to your place so you can do that, I don’t want you coming until your balls deep.” Billy looked exasperated “My flat’s too fucking far, can’t I fuck you here up against the wall?” You shook your head, a better idea forming “You got a car?” Billy’s eyes began to glint as he saw where you were going “My my, aren’t you full of fuckin ideas. Alright, I’ll take you back, but” he pulled his pants back up “The spit on my cock will be your lube tonight, so you better hope it hasn’t dried by the time we get there.” 

As it turns out, it was an empty threat, as his car was parked down a couple more streets not too far from where you were. You let him walk up to the door and kept a distance as he opened the car, and pushed the front seat down. Getting in, he cocked his fingers at you, and obediently, you made your way into the car, shutting and locking the front door behind you. You straddled Billy as he rested back on his seat, whilst you pulled your shirt and pants off, giving him a show which he appreciated with a wolf whistle “Damn, you’re gonna look so pretty when you ride daddy’s dick like a dirty slut.” He growled out as you leaned down to his ear “Come on then daddy, show me what I’m working with” mimicking his flirty taunt in the bar earlier. He grinned up at you as he leaned up, pulling his best off, exposing his torso, also covered in tattoos, as you admired the art, you lifted yourself up so he could pull off his pants, leaving them in a bunch on the floor “You ready for this?” He said, grabbing onto his dick and slapping it against your ass, you nodded and he wasted no time thrusting into you, both of you crying out in pleasure, it was finally happening, you were getting fucked by a bar guy, and fuck did it feel good! You placed your hands onto his pecs, grabbing his nipples and tweaking them as you began to ride his cock, gazing down at Billy, seeing how into it he was, sweat forming on his forehead as he watched in lustful awe, mouth open and letting deep breaths out “Fuck yeah, ride that shit baby, take daddy’s cock into your ass, fuck it like it deserves to be fucked” He snaked his hands up and grabbed onto your ass, guiding you onto his cock, now setting control. You surged forwards, kissing him deeply, before moving down his neck, onto the tattoos on his torso, you began to trail your tongue around them, to the utter pleasure of the man now fucking you passionately hard “Oh fuck, damn you really like that shit?” You nodded your head up at Billy, who seemed too into it to tell you to be verbal, soon returning back to his tattoos. 

After a while, Billy’s hands left your side, making you resume the faster pace he had set, his hands trailed up to your neck, as he wrapped his big hands around your neck and pushed in harder, finding the sight of you being choked by him utterly arousing. Not that you were complaining, thanks to him, you were back on that high you had experienced in the alleyway when he pushed you onto his dick, you lost all focus of the situation, Billy’s pounding, his face, the car, everything, white spots were dancing in your vision as the lack of oxygen, sent you spiralling into a sense of a mixture of euphoria and nothingness. You had no idea how much time had passed, or even what was happening until Billy’s hand slapped you across the face, pulling you out of your revery. “I said do you like being Daddy’s fucksleeve? Answer me Y/N, or I fucking pull out and finish on your face like I should have done in the alley!” “No! No! I fucking love it!” You said in a panic, you’d come so far, that you couldn’t be left in the lurch now “Then. Why. Didn’t. You. Fucking. Answer?” Billy roughly said as he slapped his cock further into you, hitting your prostate on each stroke “I didn’t hear you, I was loving how you were choking me daddy!” It all came spilling out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, Billy suddenly halted, a mixture of shock and surprise on his face. You stayed like that for a moment before he caught his bearings and grinned at you “So you like being choked huh?” “Y-yes” you breathed out, not noticing you had been holding your breath “Oh this is gonna be so fucking nasty, but so fucking hot at the same time!” Billy cried out, like a man who’d struck gold in a mine, you had no idea what he was thinking until you heard the seatbelt being withdrawn forwards, wrapping part of it round your neck “You hit me on the chest if you need to stop, alright?” Billy told you and you nodded, showing you understood “That’s the spirit Y/N.” He said before pulling back. You began to choke again, yet under Billy’s control and full understanding of what made you tick, it didn’t hurt, once again it was like you were flying in midair, only this time it was as if you saw Billy flying across from you, at the same midrange position you were in “Fuck, you feel that Billy?” You gasped out “Fuck yeah I do! God your clenching around me so fucking tight, so fucking good for me Y/N.” He drawled out, deciding to tweak your nipples the same as you’d done to him, you drew a desperate grasp of air as you slammed your hand against the glass window which had begun to mist up. 

“Fuck Tiger, you look damn near ready to explode” Famous Last Words from Billy as high from the adrenaline, Billy’s cock, and the seatbelt contracting your neck, you came all over Billy, load after load splashing onto his tattooed torso “Fuck! Damn! You really needed that, didn’t you Y/N?” Billy loosened the seatbelt so you could respond to him, you coming slowly off of the high “Yeah, I guess I did” “Well your walls are clenching round me, so I’m ready to come as well, you gonna take all my load, take it all for me?” You nodded, though less throughly then before, a slight pain starting to form from your neck, Billy gripped onto your sides and moved you up and down as he ansi thrusted into you rougher than before, chasing his own orgasm “Fuck yes, so tight, bare down on me Y/N, fuck like that, oh fuck I’m gonna come!” Billy suddenly started groaning and growling in powerful domination as he shot load upon load, so much was filling you up, it was like a volcano had exploded in your ass. You didn’t think he would stop, but eventually the last of his load pumped into you, he let out a ragged breath, sucked one in, and let his hands give way, causing you to fall on top of him. He began to laugh “God damn Y/N, that was one of the fucking best orgasms I’ve fucking had, got to take you back to mine for Round #2.” You looked up at him “You sure you can go again? That seemed like a lot for you” He gripped your hair, albeit softer than the alleyway due to having climaxed “You don’t even know, you’ve never had a man as hot as me or can last as long as I can.” “Even if I sucked your balls instead of your dick for the second round?” You countered “Fuck now you’re asking for it, get into the seat and fasten up, I’m gonna give you a night you won’t fuckin forget!” As Billy started his car up and drove off to his apartment, you sucked in a deep breath, and looked across at him while he drove, both of you innerly counting the moments until both of you would ride the high together again. 

[genesisinferno]

This was meant to be a future chapter for "Follow His Footsteps" but the scene wouldn't leave my brain so now you guys can have it and I can finally get it out of my head. I'll probably have to something a little differently for this planned scene, rip.

////

"Just this once," Cross said. He wouldn't do this again. He wouldn't let his guard down again - he couldn't. If only for himself, he couldn't afford to let his guard down more than once. He had to stay on track, he had to stay focused, he had to be cold and distant at all times...

But just this once. Just this one time, he could afford to let his guard down, right?

"Just this once," Killer agreed with a nod, something almost sly in his empty gaze. They both knew he didn't truly believe that and was just going along with it - he had every intention to get Cross to drop his guard again, regardless if Cross wanted to or not. Cross should care, he should withdraw or be annoyed. He should keep his guard up. But he was tired. So, so very tired. So, this time, only this time, he would let it go. But he would never do it again, no matter how much it hurt or how much it killed him inside. Just this once.

Cross stares at Killer for a moment, cautiously. A part of him still didn't want to let go - he had built this mask up for so long and he'd forgotten what he was like underneath. It almost scared him, not knowing who he was anymore. He'd been a different person in X-Tales and had worn a mask ever since he'd destroyed his home. To let go now, even if only for a short while, was terrifying. It was a vulnerability he hadn't allowed himself in so long. He could still put his mask back on after this, right? He could still pretend, right? Killer wouldn't... try to draw him out again, right? (He knows he would.)

Something in Cross snaps, strained and tired from the pressure of holding himself together for so long now, and that's all it takes. He ducks his skull, wrapping his arms around Killer in a loose hug. Cross drops his skull onto Killer's chest, his arms tightening until he's almost crushing Killer in his grasp. Killer, for once in his life, is silent as he wraps his own arms around Cross, returning the hug. Unlike Cross, Killer doesn't hesitate in holding him tightly, as if he's afraid that if he doesn't, Cross will run from him again. Something about the action, something about the unspoken intentions and feelings that lay underneath causes Cross to shake. He has to physically restrain himself from crying. He knows what he is and he knows what he does. Not just to Killer, but to the Dust and Horror too. Even to Nightmare and Error. He knows how he worries them, how he brushes off their concern so easily that it makes them frustrated to the point they feel angry and helpless. How they look out for him all the time and just want him to let them in - something Cross can't afford to do. Something Cross is too scared to allow, in his current situation. Because letting them in means getting more attached, means putting them in even more pain when he leaves. It means it'll hurt them further.

Just like Killer is hurt now, because of him. Cross hates the feeling of helplessness he feels, the frustration at not being able to help further, the guilt and the pain, and the worry and fear of losing Killer. He hates how he knows that they feel like this about him on a daily basis. But like he's done for so long, he doesn't allow himself to lament on his own mistakes or shortcomings - instead lashing out at the one before him.

"Dammit, Killer! You almost died, you idiot!" Cross snaps, glaring at the injured skeleton with unshed tears in his sockets. For a second, Killer seems almost surprised but then his signature grin stretches over his skull.

"Yeh, but I didn't," Killer states it like it's some obvious fact he's proud of, when he should be more concerned with the fact that he nearly died and still isn't completely in the clear yet. Until they find a way back to the castle, Killer's still very much at risk. Especially since Cross' makeshift first aid wouldn't do much more than support Killer's injuries until they could get proper help.

"That doesn't make it any better," Cross whines, almost childishly. Oddly enough, Killer's casualness helps to keep the tears at bay. If he can still do that much, then it's possible it's not affecting him as much as Cross had originally feared. It's something he has to chance to bounce back from like usual.

"Sure it does," Killer chirps and looks at him teasingly. "Ya worried anyway?" The question takes Cross aback, because of course he is. It had been his fault Killer was injured to begin with. He got hurt protecting Cross while he was stupidly distracted by something or the other. Despite how much Cross tried to deny it, tried to refuse the feelings, he cared about Killer - about all of the bad Sanses, even though he couldn't afford to. He's discovered he's absolutely terrible at remaining detached when put in front of skeletons hellbent on caring for him - even though he didn't need the care or the worry.

"I... of course I am. You... you're hurt and it's my fault. You could have died and it would have been my fault," Cross mumbled sadly, the tears finally spilling out of his sockets. They dropped down onto Killer's shirt, soaked up by the fabric.

"Hey. Hey. Don't say shit like that, makes you seem like you really care underneath all that bravado," Killer chuckled. Cross gripped him tighter for a second, remembering himself. Killer was right. Even if Cross decided to let his guard down for a bit, he still shouldn't say stuff like that. He couldn't take it back. Killer seemed to notice the change, quickly speaking up again.

"In all seriousness... don't worry 'bout it. I ain't going anywhere. Think you can get rid of me that easily?" Killer seemed amused by the thought that anyone could even consider the thought of it. As if he were immortal. He wasn't. He was strong but even he could die. Not to say that it was easy to kill him - Killer was like a parasite with a grudge, hellbent on taking everyone down with him.

"No..." Cross sighed and Killer's smug grin sharpened. Cross just sighed, burying his skull in Killer's chest and simply soaking in the fact that Killer was alive and allowing himself to be relieved at the fact instead of pushing it away. He'd gotten him out in time. He'd been there. They've avoided the worst case scenario. Killer was alive and they still had a chance out of this.

"...do you want me gone?" Killer's voice is quiet, far quieter he's ever heard it, and Cross can just barely pick up on the insecurity hidden within it. His skull snaps up, more from the tone than the actual question itself. Killer is supposed to be annoyingly confident, not sad or insecure.

"No!" Cross denies immediately, surprised and more than willing to fight Killer on this if he has to. There's the slightest shift to Killer's expression and a tenseness to his body that Cross isn't familiar with. To his surprise, at his words, Killer's expression returns to normal and he relaxes slightly, pulling Cross closer to him minutely.

"Then it's all good, yeh? Besides, I'm getting a voluntary hug from the solitary soldier himself, so it wasn't all for nothing. Heh," Killer chuckles, and Cross glares at him for it. He has half a mind to ignore Killer entirely. His inability to shut up ruins everything.

But then the smile drops off Killer's face again and Cross finds himself unable to keep the glare up, instead watching Killer in concern.

"Just this once... tell me something, Criss-Cross," Killer's voice is quiet and soft that it doesn't even sound like his voice anymore. Cross isn't used to this vulnerability and it's beginning to send him into a panic. He doesn't know how to deal with stuff like this anymore. He hasn't dealt with stuff like this - even for himself, that he doesn't know what to do. "Do ya care at all? Would you... be better off without me?"

Everything about that question was wrong, especially coming from Killer. From secure, overconfident, stupid Killer. And it hurt. Crap, it hurts and this is exactly what Cross was trying to avoid. He didn't want to hurt and he certainly didn't want any of the Bad Sans to hurt because of him. Apparently, he'd failed both points, because Cross cared so damn much that it hurts. He didn't want to lose Killer. He couldn't stand the thought of it, let alone bear the pain that would come from it. He'd lose whatever sanity he had left if he lost one of them, he just didn't want to admit it. That is, he didn't want to admit until Killer asked. Because now Cross was willing to, if it meant that Killer would just stay.

"I don't wanna lose you. So don't go, Killer," The tears spilled out of his sockets, as he whispered, "You've gotta... You've gotta stay with me, okay? D-don't leave me." Killer held him tighter, as if afraid to let him go and Cross clutched onto him for dear life, afraid to ever leave this moment.

///

I don't own any characters. This is meant purely platonically but I guess you can see it as Kross if you want to. But yeah, this is meant to be brotherly, with Cross being super afraid to open up and finally taking one of the first steps to. I wrote this instead of writing the next chapter but since this isn't a major delay, I think I can get away with it.

[launchpadthai]

Heliotropism [a Fethsteel fanfic] 1/?

Summary: Fethry finds Steelbeak in a bad state and gladly nurses him back to health. Genre: Fluff, bonding, platonic intimacy. Confident!Fethry and Humbled!Steelbeak I just want these two to interact so badly Q_Q Rating: G Word count: 1500ish

Notes:  AU where Steelbeak is washed to sea instead of saved by F.O.W.L from S3E3. Shout out to whoever posted that prompt first and to Mighty-Ant’s oneshot fic with the same prompt for the inspiration! I consumed all the Fethsteel I could find, a lot of other people’s head canons and ideas inspired this so if something looks familiar, it’s cause it is lol. There’s plenty more written roughly, just need to polish it up. I really like Fethry’s comic personality so I leaned more towards it. Also AU rules, the Sublab didn’t get blown up. **No beta and I haven’t written fanfic in years so if you see anything written weirdly feel free to correct me! I’ve been sitting on it for months but if I don’t post it now I never will okay thank u 

--

The absolute pure darkness of say, the depths of a cave or the middle of a forest during a new moon was something Steelbeak was use to. Dim lights in a hidden base, or the cheap lights of a jail cell were almost homey to him. Almost.

So when he woke up in an unknown dim room, he didn’t feel the need to panic. Though, his head did hurt more than usual as he sat up slightly and reached up to rub it and was interrupted by a small tug. He looked over to see an IV needle stuck in the crook of his arm so reflexively, he reached to pull it out. “It’s just water.” Said a voice, cutting through the dark. Steelbeak tried to blink the sleep from is eyes, only able to make out a small blob of a body walking towards him. With another bag of clear fluid, a duck with a red hat appeared. “I don’t have anything fancier than that.” His tone was weirdly upbeat, or so Steelbeak thought, considering his situation. He tensed and a sharp pain shot through his chest, making him groan and the other bird paused mid step. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He put his hands up and spoke in a casual, yet jolly tone. “I’m Fethry, we found you in the ocean.” “We?” Steelbeak meant to say out loud but nothing came out. Anxiety began to bubble as he realized he couldn’t open his beak. He grabbed at it, trying to pry it open but it didn’t budge. He cursed Heron and the duck at the lighthouse but Steelbeak knew it was the buzzards. What he didn’t know, was if it was a malfunction or if the remote had that kind of range. Either way, it was annoying.

He punched at his beak a few times before falling back into the bed roughly, immediately regretting it as more sharp pains exploded in his chest. Fethry openly winced, watching as Steelbeak curled up and grabbed fistfuls of blankets to ease the pain while trying to catch his breath as much as he could through a closed beak.

“Okay, so that isn’t normal then. I tried to get it open myself but thought you just had that strong of a jaw.” Fethry walked to the bed while chuckling. Steelbeak let him get closer, but knew he could still take the bird out if he tried anything funny, even in his current state. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got a cracked rib, maybe broken?” Fethry spoke calmly. “You’re severely dehydrated too.” He switched the bags quickly, stepping back to give the larger bird room once more.

Steelbeak caught his breath, stopping the tunnel vision enough to scan the room. He was in a small bed that looked out of place compared to the rest of the area. Some kind of lab with big windows that were pitch black, save for some small dim lights that seemed to be floating around...Wait what? Were those Christmas lights? Was he in space? Steelbeak squinted and Fethry followed his gaze. “They’re bio-luminescent krill.” He said through a smile. “They were worried about you.” ‘They?’ Steelbeak’s expression spoke out loud. “We were the one’s that found you. You’re lucky you were so close to the lab.” He waved lightly, looked over to Steelbeak and tossed his head sideways a bit, motioning to the window. Without thinking, Steelbeak put his hand up and also waved lightly, a small gesture to the krill. They both looked into the sparkling, floating abyss in silence, the only noise coming from a generator. Somewhere down the empty halls, a light flickered and there was a groan, the sound of steel under pressure. The lab seemed to breathe, humming a metallic lullaby.

Steelbeak tried to fight off the exhaustion, his eye lids grew heavy but he lost the battle. Sinking back into his pillow, he fell asleep so fast he almost missed Fethry bringing the blankets back up to his chin.

--

Steelbeak didn’t know how long he slept. He was keeping track of the dream to nightmare ratio but lost the numbers when his eyes opened for the first time without a headache in...who knows how long? He was still in the same bed in the corner of the same lab but it was bright, like noon and Fethry greeted him even brighter, like the sun itself. Oh, that’s who knows how long. Steelbeak sighed but flinched slightly when Fethry got closer and jolted his arms out. “What’s your name?” He wiggled the marker and pad, a motion for Steel to take them. 

He spent a little too long writing his name and when Fethry got the pad back, he stifled a laugh at the wobbly lines of “STEELBEAK.” Steel furrowed his eyebrows, sat up straight, and immediately curled forwards from the pain in his chest. Not the first time bravado had hurt him.  “You seem more like a man of action anyways and I’m really good at Charades.”

Fethry was able to rig up a device that could fit through a small hole on the side of Steelbeak’s mouth so he could eat, but not before some convincing that Fethry needed to drill said hole. ‘I’m gonna kick this guy’s butt when I feel better.’  He thought through the vibration of the drill as it distorted his vision, making Fethry a fuzzy blur. It was quick, like a piercing, but soon he had the taste of something like gravy hitting his tongue and his body lurched, feeling desperately hungry. He swiped the tube from his hands with malice and Fethry just giggled as Steel poured another cup of the liquified food in the funnel and crouched in the corner, facing away from the small bird. “You’ll have your energy back in no time! I’ll run you a bath.” Fethry put a lid on the liquified food and left, humming a soft tune. Steelbeak brought his legs closer to his chest, trying to shrink even smaller, away from the whole world.  Fethry was the smaller bird, so why did he feel like he was?

--

As soon as he had enough energy to walk on his own without getting winded, Steelbeak did what every sane person who was held hostage did. He tried to break out. Every exit was met with loudly painted warning signs though and he had to talk himself out of swimming to the surface a couple times. Whenever he hit a dead end or his stomach started growling, he’d heave a sigh, go back to the designated lab room, crawl into the bed and ignore Fethry while he did...whatever it was he was doing. One day he was placing lab equipment in a big cart when Steel walked in after another failed attempt and collapsed on the bed. ”I can use a different bathroom so you don’t have to walk so far, you know, if you really need privacy.” Steelbeak’s face flushed as he sat up quickly, flung his head around and scowled at Fethry. He just cackled and pushed the cart out. “I’m just kidding!”

Steel felt confident when he finally found a room with what looked like escape pods on the outside of it. So he opened the nearest hatch, and almost drowned again.

As he floundered in the flooding room, his hands on the ceiling, he took what he thought was his last breath, when the alarms stopped blaring and a big metal plate slid over the hatch, stopping the deluge. The water drained quickly at multiple grated pipelines and Steel floated down, collapsing on his hands and knees, attempting to catch his breath through his nostrils. That had to be the most annoying part about his locked beak. That, and the fact he couldn’t eat, or talk, or do anything. He heard a door slide open and a pair of webbed feet met his vision. He kept his head down and prepared himself for a verbal assault. “There’s always the front door.” Fethry said, his voice playful. Steelbeak looked up, admiring his casual stance. A confidence shone from Fethry that Steel craved his own body felt again. One hand was in his coat pocket, the other held out a towel towards the crouched bird. “I can take you up to shore, you’re not a prisoner.” Steel hesitated, accepted the towel, then sat back on his heels and buried his face in it. He learned early on in life he had to take and fight for what he wanted, the simplicity of “asking” blew over his head. He felt silly. He was going to feel embarrassed for the rest of his miserable life, wasn’t he?

“Do you have a way to unlock your beak out there?” Steel shook his head in the towel. He could face F.O.W.L again, but his communicator was probably lost at sea. Any real reason to contact them was slowly flowing down the drains with the last trickle of the unwelcomed sea water, and having to beg for his spot back sounded more awful that usual. It actually sounded so bad, it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I did some research and studied your beak so I ordered some reverse magnets.” Steelbeak looked up from the towel at the smaller bird. “Stick around for a bit, underwater parcel delivery is inconsistent but they should be here any day. I can help you override that lock.”  All of Fethry’s weight was on one foot, both hands in his pockets and Steelbeak was baffled by the laid back stance. To place the cherry on top of Steelbeak’s confusion, Fethry shrugged nonchalantly, and said, “If you want.”

Steelbeak organized his thoughts. Fethry had yet to do anything to Steelbeak that warranted danger, he was just nice, right? This is what nice people did? With a lost expression, Steel looked back up to Fethry, who smiled again and reached a hand out. “Can I show you my favorite part of the lab?”

Part two

[highladyluck]

For the fic title meme: Lay Down Your Crown and Sword

So, I was thinking maybe this is about Aviendha's feelings about Rand when they're in the Aiel Waste... just kidding, I know what the people want from me.

Wheel of Time, Mat/Tuon, post-canon, ANGST. This is one take on a scenario where Mat attempts to achieve his stated relationship goal, which is convincing Tuon to abdicate and run away with him.

(This sucker is LONG and SPOILERY so I’m putting it under a cut.)

It's ~2 months after the Last Battle. There's growing danger to Tuon- an almost-successful assassination attempt (my money's on Moghedien) that scares Mat, Selucia, the Deathwatch, and maybe even Tuon herself, just a little. The sul'dam secret is leaking out and emboldening the faction that wants to kill her, there's worry it'll lead to local rebellion, plus there's still the Seanchan homeland power struggle. Mat uses all this to convince Tuon that she needs to lie low for a while. His idea is for her to fake her own death, install a puppet successor secretly loyal to her, and go hide out with him in a place no one will be able to find them for a few months.

She's not thrilled about it initially, but it's not like she hasn't faked her own death before (love that about her!) so she agrees to Mat's plan, which is 'hang out in a Portal Stone alternate timeline'. (Mat would not come up with this on his own, Mat does not like Portal Stones, but Min suggested it and he eventually agreed it would suit their needs.) Tuon would prefer something where she could keep an eye on political conditions more easily, but she feels safe with Mat & appreciates that this is definitely a secure option, and she's been out of contact with home base before for a while and been fine. Selucia stays in the palace, to keep an eye on things and do intrigue (and also give Mat and Tuon actual alone time- I am entertained by the grudging truce between Mat and Selucia, but her chaperone services are not needed this time around.)

They've got an official pickup scheduled in a few months, about a month before Tuon's due; Mat thought about waiting more time to go back but he'd rather have the option to call in trusted medical help for the birth and he wants to leave a wide margin of error for the actual due date. He intends to rope in Nyneave if it seems necessary, although he doubts he'll be lucky enough that Nyneave would help Tuon out of the goodness of her heart or even as a favor to him. More likely Nyneave's help would cost Tuon in political concessions, which he will have to either convince Tuon to accept- assuming she's in a position to make that kind of choice- or negotiate on her behalf, if she's in too much immediate danger. Either scenario keeps him up at night, but the alternative is worse. Also, he hasn't run this contingency plan by Tuon yet- likely because he isn't totally against the idea of extracting political concessions from Tuon, so there's guilt as well as fear of how she'd react. The other thing Tuon doesn't realize about this vacation plan is that Mat is hoping to convince her to move there forever- if it's nice- or at least to keep faking her death and start a new life with him somewhere in disguise in their reality.

The Portal Stone world is one that's relatively close to their world, so it has people and feels fairly familiar, but the apocalypse hasn't happened yet and doesn't appear to be doing so in the near future. (For fun let's say the obvious divergence is Damodred-related; maybe the non-asshole Damodred branch is in charge, so you don't get Laman's Sin and/or Tigrane is actually happy in her political marriage, so the Dragon hasn't been reborn yet.) Tuon's ok with the 'vacation' vibe at first, we get some cute romantic bonding moments between her and Mat as they do normal people things, they have some cute dates in taverns or whatever. But Tuon becomes increasingly bored and anxious and frustrated about not being able to keep tabs on what's happening- probably some residual trauma from the last time she went AWOL with Mat, and came back to find her homeland in shambles and her family dead. So that's a source of conflict, especially since she doesn't actually confide that in Mat. She also keeps wanting to hash out political/military plans for when they get back, but Mat keeps trying to distract her, or makes arguments she doesn't like (re: Seanchan policy reform). Maybe Mat brings up the Nyneave contingency plan because he got worried about her health, and Tuon's like 'uh how long have you been sitting on this idea, when the fuck were you going to run it past me, the person it most concerns?'

Their relationship has always had an element of conflict in it, but back then they were strangers, had rules of engagement constraining them, and a kind of shared purpose. Their conflict was a kind of game that they played together, and it drew them closer. Now they know how to get under each other's skin and aren't constrained by witnesses or promises, and they have a shared mission (keeping Tuon safe) but don't agree on who is in charge of it. What's holding them together still is their own compassion and affection for each other, but they're not great at communicating it with words and now they're using words as weapons sometimes, so most of the reconciling is with gestures/gifts/actions. In general, things are tense and there's not much going on outside of their own interactions to distract them; Tuon's temper is flaring, she's feeling powerless and like her personal integrity is being attacked sometimes; Mat's being propelled around by his gut reactions and he's scared of losing her (and the baby), in any number of ways, and mad that she doesn't want what he thinks is best.

Finally the scheduled transit date arrives and they pop back to their original universe and get caught up on the news (maybe from Min?) Over in Seanchan, possibly emboldened by news of Tuon's 'death', a warlord has consolidated most of the warring factions. Now they know who to go after, and a war in Seanchan would help unify the Seanchan in the westlands; the Seanchan military-industrial complex loves a good patriotic war. Things domestically are a little better than before they left. Selucia flushed out the network from the earlier assassination attempt and is generally keeping things running and the puppet ruler honest.

Tuon's relieved; she was really worried that everything was going to fall apart when she was gone and now she's kind of grateful for the break. She tries to tell Mat this without actually admitting that she's got trauma around it, because the Empress doesn't admit weakness and Tuon the person is extremely bad at talking about feelings anyway; she's like "Ah, that's much better news than I came back to last time you kidnapped me. I'm glad to be back to work again, let's get to it." Mat's irritable, not catching on that she was actually really worried about it based on her previous experience, and thinking she didn't appreciate the break, and also worried that his plans to convince her to leave with him aren't going to work. Tuon catches that he's cagey and unhappy and not getting her jokes, and she remembers that this was what he seemed like when she first saw him in the Tarasin Palace. Mat argues that they should at least wait until the baby comes, that the person she put in charge is doing well, they can certainly let them rule a while longer. He says he's not sure it's the right time to attack Seanchan, he'd need to check the troops out, sniff out local sentiment. He's not decisive or commanding or focused when he says these things- it's stalling, it's bravado covering panic. It dawns on her- oh shit, he's gonna run.

Tuon's spooked. She KNOWS Mat now, but that doesn't mean she knows what to do to hang on to him. She doesn't know how to deal with a loss of control in her personal life, so she turns to what she knows she can control- the empire, her role, her property. She takes refuge in past promises. She tells him they will discuss the disposition of the army and the prosecution of the war in Seanchan once her heir is born and she's officially 'off the hook'. Mat looks grim.

Tuon wanted to announce that she's back immediately, but she starts having contractions and Mat's like 'you are absolutely not going to return from the dead right this second, you're super vulnerable right now.' They stay in a relatively secret spot in Tuon's territory with a small coterie of loyal retainers until the baby is born; it goes fine. There is one (1) cute bonding moment between Tuon and the baby and Mat; then the baby vanishes. Mat was on guard along with the usual people you'd expect to be on guard (not Karede, Selucia, or Min though). Tuon FUCKING KNOWS Mat did it with Aes Sedai help, she's initially furious and betrayed, but Mat isn't admitting it and within the extremely tight circle of people who know about the vanished baby, he's doing a reasonably convincing job looking as freaked out and upset as everyone else, and she's still hoping she can resolve this privately without any drastic public actions.

She takes Mat to a private place and she tells him that she has always, always been able to trust him. She trusts him so much it terrifies her. She does not know if this is what love is, but it is what she feels for him. She asks him to honor that, to honor himself, and not to lie to her. She then asks him why he kidnapped their child. Mat staggers, and blurts out that he can't bear the thought of their children constantly at risk of assassination, from strangers or their own siblings. He has nightmares about their child beginning to channel, or being able to learn, and what that means for them in the Empire. Tuon's made her choice and he'll respect that, though he hates the risks to her, and what the Empire does to her and others. But their child deserves the choice Tuon didn't have. He loves Tuon, but he cannot love the Empire, and he will not fight in the Empire's wars, and he will not let the Empire own his children, whether that's as royalty, sul'dam, or damane. He says he trusts she'll come to the right decision about what to do with this information.

The next scene has Tuon in mourning white. It's neither Tuon's nor Mat's POV- probably Karede, or maybe Min. In front of the whole court Tuon, as Empress back from the dead, bestows the Bloodknives ring and blessing on Knotai, and orders him to take a few members of the Deathwatch (the ones on watch the night the baby vanished, our observer notes) and assassinate the warlord in Seanchan on her behalf. She says she trusts he will succeed. They stare inscrutably at each other. The court is shocked into silence at first, but the whispers rise behind Mat as he straightens from his extraordinarily polite leg and heads out of the chamber. It is left up to the reader to decide if this is an elaborate plan to fake Mat's death and set him free, or his execution.

--- You may notice this is suspiciously fleshed out for a prompt I received this afternoon. XD I've been kicking around some of this premise for a while, though this ask made me finally come up with the circumstances that get Tuon to actually agree to temporarily leave her job, as well as most of the details. The main emotional beats came from stringing together several Mountain Goats songs, because of course it did. The whole sequence is Twin Human Highway Flares, Riches and Wonders (Eliza Rickman cover), Alpha Incipiens, Fault Lines, New Britain, Family Happiness. I’m not sure if I’ll actually turn this into a finished story with description and dialogue and everything, but it’s possible. This is also not the only Mat/Tuon post-canon idea I have kicking around! It’s not my ideal scenario for them for sure, but it’s a lot easier to write a ‘bad ending’ for them than to work on my ‘good ending’, because I have a lot more emotional investment in the ‘good ending’... perfectionist problems. :/

[pyrrhesia]

FF14 Write - ‘Destruct’

In which Ysabet Sable puts her pride aside.

The forest canopy hummed with life. Songbirds boomed out their mating cries, the autumn-fall of leaves drifted to the floor, and underneath it all, the whispers of viera footfall glided unnoticed through the chaos. All that drew attention to them was the brewing argument between the three figures. Viera remained alike the other warmblooded races in a few aspects, not  least the fact that any trio of adolescents could immediately be carved into three archetypes: the brash one, the clever one, and the one who ensured the three would actually make it to adulthood. Even if they did not fit these roles alone, any group of three would slide into the same, time-honoured dynamics. The tallest one, Kjva, represented the first archetype; given this, it was an ill sign she was the one carrying the bow. "You're fretting for nothing, Thrjs. The beast is old and slow." "So let it die!" Thrjs argued. "If it represented a threat unaccosted, the hunters would act. You'll only to madden the beast." "And risk it preying on helpless foragers? What do you think, Mrdja?" The third of the crew shrugged. "I'm here, am I not?" "There, a vote of confidence!" "Besides, you'll need someone to pry you out of the thing's maw when it has you." Mrdja grinned. "This is a terrible idea, Kjva, and you are an idiot. But you are my idiot, and life would be dull without you." "Mrdja, you're as bad as her!" Thrjs despaired. "Sh!" Kjva gestured frantically to the others. "I've found the beast's tracks." Silence lasted almost a full second. "Don't sound so pleased with yourself," said Mrdja. "They're the size of tree-trunks." "Tracks as wide as trees, and we're going to follow it," said Thrjs, rolling her eyes. "Idiots the both of you." It did not take them long to catch up. The beast was slow, lumbering through the woods with all the grace of a light-drunk moth slamming into a window. It had uprooted a number of trees on its trail of carnage, and, judging by master tracker Kjva's evaluation of a massive haemorrhage in the middle of its path, had probably eaten recently. They found it in a clearing, outside a cave. A great, slavering canine creature, dragging a deer carcass in its maw. It dropped the carcass outside its lair, and a few pups came bounding out eagerly, worrying at the remnants. Mrdja marvelled. "The size of the thing... !" Its work done, the patriarch shifted over towards a maggot-ravaged corpse, a smaller mirror in duller colours. It licked it a couple of times - Thrjs gagged - before almost mournfully seeming to sit by its side. "A hyur arrow through its throat," Kjva said, softly. "That must be the mate. No wonder the beast went feral." Thrjs turned to her. "Well, master archer, I doubt even you could miss that thing. Care to take your mark? I promise to clap when it's over with." Kjva re-evaluated the task, and her bravado in relation to it. "Uh," she said. "What was that you were saying earlier about heroes, Kj?" Thrjs never could resist twisting a knife. "Let's just go--" She took the first step, tugging Kjva's sleeve, and stepped on a thin, dry branch which snapped underfoot. The beast turned, and reared up. The three of them stood petrified for a moment, before instinct took over. Kjva nocked and drew the arrow in a single fluid motion, but as the beast lumbered towards the three of them, her heart raced and threw off her aim as she let fly. The arrow sank into one of the pups, which whined and scattered into the woods. The beast bellowed a roar which shook the woods. The three young viera bolted, all thoughts of glory gone, the only thought on their mind getting back to Camoa, not daring to look behind them but hearing the thundering of paws, the trees in their way being bulldozed aside, and Mrdja stumbled on a rock and fell heavily on her ankle, cried out, shut her eyes and waited for death. There was a silken sound, and the rush of air overhead as a volley of arrows struck their mark, tearing through flesh. The beast gave out a final, defiant roar... before collapsing with what seemed almost like a sigh. Mrdja opened her eyes. Grim-faced figures slipped away from the shadows, surveying the scene. A familiar voice cut through. "Idiot!" shouted Irsa, Kjva's mentor, pushing through her companions to loom in the time-honoured 'I'm so glad you're alive but you are in so much shit' posture adopted by all adults at one time or another. Kjva bowed her head in shame. "We wanted to be of use to our people." "Be of use by staying alive, you stupid girl! Seven years I've taught you, barely even a start to your training, and you want to throw it all away? Selfish idiot!" There was just one course of action remaining to Kjva. She burst into tears. Irsa gritted her teeth, clenched her fists, performatively huffed before finally enveloping the girl in a hug. "Just don't scare me like that again..." Thrjs stepped forward, felt it was time to claim her credit points as The Good Influence. "I told her it was madness! I told them both, but Mrdja just kept egging her on, just because she wants to kiss her, everyone knows it--" Irsa glared at Thrjs. "Yet did you stop them? Or did you just want to crow over the bodies of your dead friends?" Thrjs looked stricken, but had no answer. But Mrdja was still dreadfully pale. "We committed a crime against the wood," she murmured, eyes locked on the corpse of the beast. Irsa cocked her head. "It was old, feral, without a mate. Its part in the cycle was over. It was not your role to end its life, but this in itself is no tragedy." From the cover of her arms, Kjva glared with sudden don't-you-dare hatred. It was too big a secret to keep, even for her sake. "Kjva's shot missed. She struck a pup." The other hunters glanced among each other. That was a different matter. "But..." Mrdja rallied. No, she could still fix all this! "I can make this right!" "Mrdja, no--" "No, I can! Ljda's taught me well! Let me make atonement, I beg you!" And she turned and slipped off into the woods before anyone could stop her.

It had not made it far from the cave. Mrdja followed the trail of blood until she found the pup, shivering and whimpering, coiled up under a tree. The shot had taken it through the shoulder and throat. Mrdja clicked her tongue. It was a grievous wound, and simply pulling the arrow free would push the pitiful creature over the edge. It struggled at first under her hands, but lacked the strength to resist. "Calm, now," she murmured. "It will be alright." Mrdja kneeled by the pup for hours as the sun set, ministering to its wounds, her fingers stroking its soft, downy fur and letting her meagre stores of aether seep into the wound. It whined softly as she broke off the broadleaf arrowhead, trying to prise it free as slowly and as gently as she could, not even noticing the pup lash out with its claws and tear a bloody score in her arm, her energy focused on mending its wounds as she went... before, at last, pulling the thing free. It mewled, wretchedly. Mrdja held it down firmly with one hand, fumbling for her poultice and bandages with the other. Her ministrations did not stop when it cried out one final time. They did not stop when it went still. "Mrdja." "I can still save it," she muttered. "Mrdja." Firmer, this time, and accompanied by a hand on her shoulder. Mrdja squirmed violently away from it, turning to face the new arrival as she still protectively clutched the pup in her hands. Her mentor stood, watching her impassively, leaning on an old, gnarled staff. "It's over, girl," she said, not unkind but certainly final. Mrdja pushed back, a rush of anger boiling over. "You don't believe in me? After seven years your student! Have I not shown you--" Ljda tutted. "Seven years my student and you still can't see its heart stopped minutes ago." Mrdja's mouth opened and shut, but the words wouldn't come. Ljda supplied them for her. "I know you did what you could. You found a dying creature that would have succumbed in minutes and drew its suffering over a matter of hours." "That isn't fair!" Mrdja said, the words sounding hollow the moment . "I... I tried everything I knew..." Ljda took a deep breath. "No. It wasn't fair to the poor creature that your pride blinded you to the truth." Mrdja blinked, her eyes damp. The weight in her hands felt so horribly light. "You should have said something," she said, thickly. "How long were you there? And you just let this happen?" The old viera smiled, sadly. "I will not always be there to guide you, you know. Not because I plan to die," she added, seeing her student look panicked. "Because of you. Already, I can see your eyes casting beyond the forest. I suspect there is an itch you cannot quite resolve in Camoa. So I must prepare you for the world, proud little Mrdja, and if you are to call yourself a healer, there are things you must know. What if I had told you, hm? Can you really say you would not think to yourself, you knew better than your Ljda? This way you know. Deep in your bones, I think." They buried the pup under the tree.

Several generations later, by Eorzean reckoning, the aftermath of battle proved no respite for Ysabet Sable. Her cuirass was dented a thousand ways, cuts on her cheek and thigh had scabbed over, and she was acutely aware she was fortunate to still be standing. More than anything she wanted to sit, or better, to sleep. To find some respite amidst the chaos. Yet she still had the privilege of her strength, and a way to make a difference. The indulgence of rest would cost lives that could still be snatched from the brink of death. "Hey! You!" Ysabet was not accustomed to being a 'hey you', but too tired to argue. Wearily, she looked over her shoulder, saw two partisans dragging a comrade between their shoulders. The man was unnaturally pale, his coat closed tight with a dark, sodden patch around his midriff. His head lolled, trying to put Ysabet in focus. He tried to speak. "Just rest, Garwyn," soothed the other partisan. "You'll be alright." "The fucking tree-shaggers are holding out on us!" fumed the first. "Talking about the will of the elements. How about our fucking will to string 'em up, eh? But I heard some say you were some kind of a witch!" "Hush," said Ysabet, firmly. She glanced at the man. She remembered, to her bones. This was no time for pride. "Lay him on the slab, then give me space." The Ala Mhigans rested Garwyn down. Ysabet did not need to open the coat to see the wound. The smell told her everything. "Leave us," she commanded. "You'll save him, right?" "I will do there is to be done. Go do what you can for some others." The tent-flap rustled as they stepped away. Ysabet hissed out a breath between her teeth, pinched her temple. She was so dry of energy, but even with a day's rest and three square meals there would be nothing to do but this. She placed two of her fingers on Garwyn's temple. His mouth opened, but could not shut, as failing eyes cast about looking for a focus. Ysabet leaned in close. "Just rest your eyes, now," she said, softly. "Your pain is too great to be borne. I will free you of its burden."

[tvandenneagram]

Twin Peaks: Audrey Horne - Type 3w2

Audrey is assertive, magnetic, charming and protective. She uses her personality and looks to try and get what she wants in all areas of her life.

At her best, Audrey is more focused on helping others and showing her more vulnerable side to those she cares about. This can be seen especially with her will to help solve the murder of Laura Palmer. She searches for the truth in order to try and get justice for Laura and ultimately help Cooper in his investigation. 

At her worst, she becomes reactive and can lash out at those around her. This can be seen with the way that she reacts to Laura’s death and uses the information to derail one of her fathers business meetings. She sometimes will not be concerned with how her actions can affect others and can be ruthless, rude and blunt if she thinks it will help her get what she wants.

Audrey is confident and rebellious and doesn’t like to be controlled by anyone, as she thinks she knows best. She will assert herself against anyone that stands in the way of her ambitions. She shows that she isn’t too concerned with rules and has small rebellions such as changing her shoes and smoking at school. Her larger confrontations can be seen when she is infiltrates One Eyed Jack’s and finds out about her fathers misdeeds. 

Audrey is immediately infatuated with Cooper when he comes into town. She sees him as older and wiser guy that will be able to treat her well and take care of her. Audrey goes out of her way to learn more about Laura Palmer’s case as a means to try and get closer to Cooper. Underneath her tough exterior and bravado it can be seen that deep down Audrey wants to be loved and taken care of. She doesn’t like to rely on anyone as she has often been ignored by her family and leans into her bad girl reputation at school. However, it can be seen that she has insecurities that she doesn’t often share and she has a desire for someone to take care of her for a change. 

Audrey’s bad girl persona is just that: a persona. She wants to portray herself as a tough, rebellious ‘bad girl’ but she is really one of the more moral characters of the show. This is especially evident when we compare her to Laura. Laura Palmer was thought of by everyone as the good girl who everyone wanted to be, but she was hiding a lot about herself. Contrasting with this everyone in town thinks of Audrey as the bad girl, but she is not into drugs or is not promiscuous like Laura was. Essentially, Audrey subverts the town’s (and the audience’s) initial impressions of her by actually being relatively clean cut. At her heart she is deeply empathetic, caring and smart. I believe that she cultivates her image as someone she thinks it can help her get what she wants. Audrey was always pushed away by her parents so she thinks if she pushes away people before they can do it to her she still has the upper hand.

I debated typing Audrey as an 8 because she is very tough, take charge and assertive, however at her core I believe Audrey is just searching for approval and wants to be desired. A driving motivator for Audrey is also that she wants people to notice her and give her attention. In the first season she is more overtly aggressive and confrontation especially regarding her father. She openly would do things to disrupt his business such as interrupting the meeting with the Norwegians. In season 2 her father begins to pay more attention to her and she is happy to finally have his approval. She genuinely helps her father with his business and when he he suffers a psychotic break. 

Audrey has a wing 2 as she is very focused on how people see her (even if she tries to hide this). She wants to be loved and to be noticed. A 3w4 is more focused on being successful in their career and for their own sake, whereas Audrey wants to be desired which is more like a 3w2.

Tri-type: 3w2- 8w7 - 6w7

Some quotes to describe Audrey’s motivations:

“What a gyp. Finally meet the man of my dreams and next thing I know he’s on a plane to Brazil.”

“When something you care about is in danger you must fight to save it, or lose it forever.”

“I’m Audrey Horne and I get what I want.”

"I've been doing some research, in real life there is no algebra."

“I don’t think anyone understands me.”

Audrey: “Talk, Emory! I want to know everything. About you, Laura, Ronnette, One-Eyed Jacks.” Emory: “All right! I work for the owner of One-Eyed Jacks.” Audrey: “Who is?” Emory: “That's all you need to know. I work for the owner of One-Eyed Jacks.” Audrey: [strangles Emory with an electric cord] “Who is?”

Dale: “Now I’m going to go down and get us two malts and some fries downstairs. Then I want you to tell me all your troubles.” Audrey: “That could take all night.”

[fusonzai]

I think I'm talking about confidence, I'm not too sure.

I was fifteen when I first saw Great Teacher Onizuka. My friend had lent me the DVD set (as you did when it was 2008) and I was about to spend the day watching it, feigning some illness to get out of school for the day. I needed some time alone, to process everything that had been going on around me.

For context, my parents were in the middle of a divorce. My mum, the most amazing person in the world to me, was not having a good time and I was not at all possessed with the skills to help her cope. Processing the concept of divorce, while trying to mediate the two adults going through it, wasn’t something I could handle. I didn’t know what I was doing. I needed a whole day away from friends and away from parents. While everyone was at their day job, I could think about everything and nothing, uninterrupted.

My attempt at getting out of school worked, however it came with a caveat. Mum had decided she’d take the day off with me. Feeling defeated but still stubborn, I insisted that if she was going to stay home too that we were watching GTO. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into.

GTO begins with our protagonist, Eikuchi Onizuka, squatting down by a payphone, trying to stare up the skirts of some high school girls coming down the nearby escalator. That’s a bold open. Two delinquents notice this and attempt to then extort him for cash. He promptly beats them up, forcing them to use all the money they have to buy him some food from the nearby convenience store. This scene establishes a few things straight off the bat: Onizuka is, first and foremost, a pervert and he’s physically strong but not to the point of unfairly asserting dominance over others. Onizuka dreams of being a teacher of all things. He wants to be the teacher he never had, being there for students outside the classroom as well as in. The series showcases Onizuka using his ex-biker gang leader skills and sheer determination to change the attitude of the antagonist students in his class. Each week he solves the reason behind their resistance toward him and they join his team until eventually he really is the Great Teacher, Onizuka.

The first delinquent problem Onizuka solves is that of Mizuki Nanako. Her parents aren’t divorced but they’re not exactly doing well. Ever since her father’s company started doing well and they moved into a mansion, she feels as though her parents just aren’t seeing eye to eye anymore. She blames it on a simple wall separating her parents’ private rooms. Before it got put up, her parents would talk and laugh together, sharing in their joys but also their defeats. Then before she knew it, they put a wall up and stopped sharing anything at all.

So, Onizuka arrives at her house. He’s got a bandana tied around his head, his abs gleaming as he’s smoking a cigarette. More importantly, he’s holding a sledgehammer, ready to demolish that wall. With her parents yelling at him threatening to call the police, Onizuka ascends the staircase and begins to take down that wall. Every powerful swing, shaking the wall and cracking the foundation.

(What a man what a man what a man what a might good man)

It felt cruel watching this scene with my mum. Here we were, two people still trying to process a big life event, opting to spend the day away from the problem. Here Onizuka was, just smashing through the problem with nothing but conviction, stupidity and sheer confidence. I couldn’t quite conceptualise the thought just yet but I think I envied that confidence. I wanted to be able to take a sledgehammer to this invisible problem and fix it. I didn’t know what an actual sledgehammer would solve nor was I even able to figure out what my situational sledgehammer would be, I just knew I wanted to be more like that. I wanted that confidence; I just didn’t know what it was yet.

Confidence. A complete assuredness in your actions. You may not have any idea of the outcome of said actions but you’re certain in the choice you made taking them. Maybe that’s just one definition. I struggle to this day with how to define confidence, I’ve been confident at different times in my life for different reasons. Mainly it’s been something I’ve found as I’ve gotten older though.

I struggled a lot with it when I was younger. I’d struggle to find it and when I did there was someone there trying to take it from me almost immediately. Pink polos were gay, skinny jeans were gay, being interested in anything outside the norm was gay as well. I wasn’t bullied by any means but there was always somebody around to tell you what they thought. I’d fold under that kind of pressure. I remember when I was 10 and we were in music class, I sang a little too loud and the popular girls behind me started pointing and laughing, clipping me before I got too sure of myself.

I got older and I thought I’d found confidence through weight training, but it was just arrogance. I genuinely thought I was better than other people in my creative writing class because I picked heavy things up and put them down. Of course, this had a drawback, whenever I’d meet someone bigger than me, I’d feel pathetic, jealous and inferior. I thought I’d rid myself of this arrogance when I started studying Japanese. My initial study was diligent and excessive. I’d have two Japanese classes a week and spend the rest of my time after work revising. Looking back now it was necessarily efficient studying, but in terms of time put in the hours were there. I believed I was working hard, which led to this arrogance in my abilities. An arrogance that was swiftly cut down whenever I met somebody better than me.

So, I always arrived at this juncture where I’d learn a new skill or hobby and wonder how to be confident in myself without comparing myself to others. I didn’t quite know how to praise myself for doing well at the gym or learning something new in Japanese without immediately comparing myself to others. It meant that I’d occasionally have these emotional highs when I achieved something only to be brought down to earth when I saw that somebody could do it better. I didn’t know how to make my achievements my own. The confidence I had was too fickle, it didn’t come from within and it often led to feeling superior to others based off of a single quantifier.

I was still uncomfortable with myself. I wanted outside validation which led to comparison, boasting and arrogance. I didn’t realise that I couldn’t get any of that from anyone else, it all had to come from within.

It’s taken me 14 years, but Onizuka finally made sense to me. I was watching the incredibly famous (in Japan) live action version of GTO one night, which turned into a nostalgia trip as all the episodes were almost identical to their anime equivalent. As I was watching I was wondering why I still hold this fictional character in such high regard, of all the powerful charismatic anime protagonists I watched in my teenage years, why does Onizuka persevere?

It’s because he’s kind of a dork.

(Get you a man that can do both)

Along with the confidence and strength that being a protagonist in a medium geared towards young boys affords you, Onizuka also has some very human flaws and vulnerabilities. The intense scenes like surprise renovating Nanako’s house or rescuing a whole bunch of kids from a gang are always juxtaposed with him being absolutely wayward in so many other aspects of life. He lives at the school because he can’t afford rent, he’s 26 and never had a girlfriend and his only friends are his students. We are always shown that his confidence isn’t intrinsically linked to how well his life is going, it’s just his feeling and determination in the moment. For all that bravado we see, we’re also shown the more human, relatable aspects. He’s amazing, brave and confident, but at the same time he’s still vulnerable and human.

Yet here’s the thing, I thought confidence meant a lack of vulnerability. I thought one couldn’t be both confident and vulnerable. This isn’t some segue into Boys Don’t Cry or a delve into masculinity. I didn’t believe that vulnerability wasn’t masculine, I just thought that vulnerability meant you had a long way to go before you were allowed to be confident.

(These lines go from bravado to insecurity in an instant, but I still think Tyler is confident as fuck)

I show what I feel to be the pretty vulnerable content on this blog. I write about my doubts and insecurities, the events that shaped me and the times in my life where I really felt at my lowest. I document the struggle I find myself in now, trying to carve something for myself and come to terms with the changes that keep happening around me. I don’t think anybody reading this would have an image of me as an outgoing, confident person. There’s rays of positivity sprinkled in occasionally but it’s generally content that I struggle to tell people in person.

Before starting this blog, I would have imagined that if I wanted to become this confident idealised version of myself, I’d need to erase any form of vulnerability. Delete the Instagram posts with moody lyrics, delete the couple shots and stop caring. I’d need to kill part of myself to become someone different. I couldn’t consciously accept that they were two signs of the same coin, even if I knew it in the back of my mind. The more I’ve been writing the better I’ve been feeling. These fears and insecurities being out in the open don’t make me any weaker, they actually feel like progress. My weaknesses will exist regardless of whether or not I tell people about them, my insecurities won’t disappear overnight. I’ll never be someone I’m not. What I can do is take these things that used to terrify me and put them out in the open. In my last piece I waxed on about making my words my own, by verbalising and bringing these thoughts into the open I feel like they become my own. They’re not completely stripped of power but they don’t hold the same sway over me that they once did.

So that leaves me with confidence. I can air my vulnerabilities and doubts but then where does my confidence come from? How do I then stop it from becoming arrogance?

Let me tell you about Charisma Man.

You know how when Superman goes back to Krypton he’s just a regular person, but on Earth he’s basically a God? Charisma Man is a joke (turned comic) about how Western Men often believe themselves to be Superman on Earth when they move to Japan. Why? You’re basically bombarded with compliments from the get-go. You get told your Japanese is amazing (when it’s not), that you’re so tall (when you’re short back home) and that you’re such a handsome man (when all experiences up until now have led you to believe the opposite). Thus, you create a kind of false confidence for yourself. Or do the people around you do it for you? You yourself haven’t changed but the people around you have, and they’re whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

(Honestly didn't know it was a comic, initially heard of it on a subreddit making fun of other expats in Japan)

Hell, maybe I am good looking? I studied Japanese for a year back home, maybe I am just really good at it? Maybe those people around me back home were just obnoxiously tall and mean. Maybe I am the shit. You begin to formulate this new identity for yourself. You are Charisma Man now. You’ll be making heaps of money, have girls on standby and be loved by everybody in no time.

Except that never happens.

The reality of Charisma Man isn’t so bright. You’re probably an English teacher living somewhere far away from the big city. Your apartment is probably small and old and your salary is half as much as you were making back home. Despite being told about how good your Japanese is, you still can’t turn on the TV and watch a program. You still can’t go to the bank and open an account with your bilingual Japanese friend. You’re still single and you’re probably getting fatter off convenience store fried chicken, if anything.

It’s fake confidence with no merit, built on nothing. You haven’t put yourself out there or done anything to earn that confidence so it always feels foreign to you. There isn’t some feat you perform or some hurdle you cross to get that kind of confidence. You’re not smashing walls with your sledgehammer or confronting your fears and growing. You just get fed compliments until your confidence balloon bursts.

I felt like I was Charisma Man for a hot minute. Separated from everyone I knew, out drinking every night, being complimented left right and centre. I kept trying and failing to keep my feet on the ground. Back then I thought it was new-found confidence, but I wasn’t really coming out of my shell; I was just being obnoxious. After long the facade faded and I realised I was the exact same Elliot I was back in Australia, just with less money and a nicer haircut.

I began to think about my experience. Why was I so confident? Why did it dissipate so quickly? Why was I not the only one that experienced this little phenomenon?

I came to the conclusion that confidence can come from many places. It can come from other people, but then it’s reliant on the praise of others. It’s shallow, fickle and bound to dissipate sooner rather than later. You’re constantly reliant on the praise of others to affirm who you are as a person, you can fool people into giving you praise but that goes away before you know it as well.

It’s a big enough of a struggle to understand yourself, it’s near impossible to understand strangers. Relying on such an unstable form of validation is essentially just inviting mental trauma in the long run.

On the other hand, confidence can also come from within.

After I distanced myself from all that charisma, I began to realise that I felt my best and my most confident when I actually put the work in. I started properly studying, eating well, and writing down my thoughts. It didn’t matter as much if people didn’t say anything, because I went to bed every night knowing that I put in enough work. Nobody said anything about the change, but I felt like I was becoming my own biggest supporter.

It’s both rewarding and daunting when you switch dopamine suppliers. I used past tense in those last few sentences because that particular fountain hasn’t been flowing so well lately. The flip side of not letting other people’s compliments fuel you anymore is that when you’re not doing right by yourself, that confidence tend to dry up pretty quickly.

[szamsson]

are you writing more chapters of the sander bad boy fic you did ages ago?

Part 1

(I might make it like a 5 parter if ya’ll like it)

When Sander entered his apartment, he first checked if anyone was home. He knew that his parents had plans to be out all night, as per usual, but he just wanted to double check. He immediately sprang into action, ordering a slab of bear to be delivered in the next hours, shoving all dirty laundry into his cupboard and clearing all the space on the coffee table. He had no idea why he was nervous. He wanted to get laid but given the innocence of the other boy he didn’t know exactly how this was going to work out. He thought, worst case scenario, Robbe would freak and he’d just meet his friends wherever they were tonight. At least he’d be able to scope out the precocious little junior and see what his deal was.

 Sander could read him like a book. The fake confidence and the niggling, underlying nervousness and insecurity, with a touch of what might be internalised homophobia? He wasn’t quite sure yet. What he didn’t understand was what had suddenly made Robbe become so bold. He’d been semi flirting with Robbe from afar for the better half of the year (amongst others but he wouldn’t mention that). So, what happened to spur Robbe on now. He pulled out his phone as he felt it vibrate against his thigh, smirking as he saw the influx of messages from an unknown number.

Robbe: Hey

Robbe: Sorry, it’s Robbe.

Robbe: You know the guy from outside school today.

Robbe: It’s fine if you don’t remember me, I mean why would you.

Robbe: Or if you think I’m pathetic, because I basically threw myself at you.

 Sander chuckled at the uncertainty in the messages. He was so damn cute, and Sander could tell that this was the real Robbe, the false bravado he had earlier today completely stripped back through text messaging.

Sander: Of course, I remember you, and no pathetic is not the verb I’d use to describe you. Adorable? Hot? Sexxyyyyy… All of the above maybe.

 Sander laughed out loud again as he watched the typing bubbles appear then disappear, then appear and disappear on a loop for the next 10 minutes. Sander knew that was going to throw the younger boy, he sensed he wasn’t the type to take compliments well. Sander waited; the ball was in the younger boys court now. Eventually, his phone vibrated again.

Robbe: So you said I could maybe come over?

Yes. This is what Sander wanted. He wasn’t going to pressure the boy that wasn’t his style. And he still wasn’t even really sure of the younger boys’ intentions, so he wanted Robbe to feel like he was taking the reins. He knew his reputation and he knew Robbe knew it too, so there was really only one reason Robbe would be coming over. Sander was used to it, he wasn’t known for his witty repartee, he was known as the bad boy who fucked around in every sense of the word. Sander set off a quick text with his address and told Robbe to come over at any time.

Robbe was nervous as he took the elevator up to Sanders apartment. He lived in a nice part of town, in a nice building and Robbe wasn’t nervous about leaving his bike tucked up in a corner out the front. He’d forgotten his bike lock on his hectic race to shower and try on three different hoodies before putting the one that he wore most days back on and leaving the house. He didn’t know how he thought tonight was going to go, he honestly didn’t have any expectation. Of course, he originally wanted…well that. But the more he thought about it the more his palms were sweating, and he was starting to feel apprehensive.

He thought Sander would be the best person to be his first time. He was clearly well experienced; he didn’t know any of Robbe’s friends and he was hot as hell. But the more he thought about Sander the more he was intrigued by the boy. He only knew what everyone talked about and Robbe knew there had to be more to his story than that. He was intrigued and had an overwhelming urge to get to know the older boy.

He held his breathe as he knocked at the door, quickly running a hand through his hair, as if he could do anything to fix it now. Sander opened the door and immediately smiled, pulling the younger boy in by the hand. He looked so good. He was wearing sweatpants that clung to his slim hips nicely and a tight black t shirt. His white hair was dishevelled like he had been running his hands through it, and his tan looked even deeper under the dim lighting of the apartment.

Robbe looked about him taking in the apartment. It wasn’t huge, probably the same size as the flat share, but it was neat and homely. There was a soft looking leather couch with heaps of throw blankets and pillows heaped on it in the living room, where Sander led him, pushing Robbe down as he collapsed, sinking into the warm couch grinning.

“Hey cutie,” Sander said, leaning down from his position towering over Robbe to give him a kiss on the cheek. The kiss was really close to the corner of his mouth and Robbe just about melted into contact. “Beer?” Sander asked, already practically skipping away towards the kitchen.

 “Um sure,” Robbe said, still slightly dazed at the contact. Whilst Sander was gone, he shook his head and gave himself a mental pep talk. Get it together Robbe, jeez. Sander returned handing him a beer, putting two extras on the coffee table and sitting alarmingly close to Robbe on the couch. He could feel the body heat up against his side and he had to do everything in his power not to melt into the touch.

 “So, how are you?” Sander said a little teasingly, eyes sparkling as he took a sip from his beer, clearly noticing the way Robbe’s eyes followed the bottles journey.

Robbe coughed as he hastily took a sip of his beer that went down the wrong pipe. “Im—good,” he sputtered, then seemed to gain control of himself. “Thanks for having me over” Robbe said trying to do his best impression of a flirty voice as he took a tentative shuffle towards Sander on the couch.

Sander just laughed at him, chucking an arm around his shoulders playfully. “Right to business hey Robbe? You’re not even going to romance me first? Some wining and dining?”

                                                            ----

Sander could tell by the boy’s body language he wasn’t sure and was once again putting on the false bravado. Sander didn’t want Robbe to think he only invited him over here to have a quick fuck and then see ya thanks, make sure to give me 5 stars on booking.com on your way out. The younger boy intrigued him, and he wasn’t sure why. His big bambi eyes held such innocence but confidence at the same time, something so alluring to Sander. But apparently Robbe was only interested in one thing.

Putting his bottle down on the table, Robbe got really bold and threw a leg over his lap, straddling Sander on the couch as he wrapped his arms around his neck. Okay, Sander thought, this is all Robbe wanted. He couldn’t help swallowing down the disappointment. But he guessed this was what he was good for.

He stared up at Robbe waiting for the younger boy to make the first move. Robbe stared down at him, smiling slightly as he shifted on Sander’s lap and got more comfortable. Then in the most confusing move of confidence and hesitance mixed into one, Robbe leaned down and took Sanders mouth. His lips were sweet and soft, and Sander moaned into them as he gripped Robbe’s waist. The boy knew how to kiss, or maybe Sander was just developing a crush on the younger boy’s sweet mouth. He nipped at Robbe’s bottom lip which made Robbe gasp into his mouth.

They made out for what felt like forever but couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes, when Sander started moving things along. He kissed down Robbe’s jaw and into his neck, sucking and softly biting marks into the pale skin. Robbe was moaning and gasping, so responsive at just making out that Sander wasn’t sure he would make it to the main event. His hand wrapped around Robbe’s ribs, bringing it down over his stomach and inching lower until he felt Robbe’s entire body stiffen. Sander looked back up at him, trying to understand the look in his eyes.

Panic. All Sander saw was panic and it looked like Robbe was fighting his own brain inside his head. Sander wouldn’t push, it was obvious the boy wasn’t ready for that and if he was honest, he’s be happy to just make out for the rest of the night, maybe order some food, talk a little. He wasn’t going to push anything physical, he wasn’t that type of guy. All of a sudden Robbe’s hand fell down to grip Sander through his sweatpants and he nearly jumped off the couch at the contact. He moaned and kissed towards Robbe’s ear again when he came back to himself and realised Robbe was as stiff as a board in his arms. He sat back and Robbe had his eyes screwed shut as if he was in pain.

Sander grabbed Robbe’s hand off his pants and brought it to his lips.

“Robbe…” Sander asked tentatively. Robbe was having some sort of battle with his emotions and suddenly his eyes went wide and he stuttered an apology.

“I’m—I’m sorry, sorry no I can do it now, I’m just” Robbe let out a frustrated groan and pulled Sander back to his body, pulling his t shirt over his head, “I’m just being a baby, I’m sorry, you can do it now.”

Okay nope. Sander was putting a stop to this right now. He carefully pushed Robbe off his lap, finding his discarded t shirt on the floor and carefully pulling it back over Robbe’s head. Robbe looked miserable and stared at him in shock and embarrassment that was completely unwarranted.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said almost desperately now, “I’m not being a tease you can do it I swear, just do it.” And the fact that Robbe couldn’t even say the word sex, or fucking or literally anything was enough of a sign that Sander had made the right choice to stop. Robbe put his head in his hands and Sander could tell he was about 6 seconds from bolting.

He pulled Robbe’s face up so that they were inches apart and said, in a completely casual tone, “It’s fine baby,” kissing him lightly on the lips. “How about we order some pizza and you can actually tell me some stuff about you huh?” Sander said, reaching for his phone and winking at Robbe, who still looked so sad.

“I’m ruining your night,” Robbe mumbled.

“Hey!” Sander said, giving him a light tap on the chin, “I didn’t invite you here for that.”

Robbe gave him an unbelieving look.

“Okay maybe I did a little, but you intrigue me.” He said simply, “Now tell me your favourite pizza topping before I order something ghastly with pineapple.”

Robbe visibly relaxed at that and mocked outrage, “Hey I like pineapple on pizza!”

Sander jokingly sighed and shook his head, “So much to teach you my little angel.”

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 117

SCENAIRO:  Madeline and Operations are seething at the treatment that Colum has metered out to them and vow to seek revenge but until then they have the problem of Jamie and Claire to deal with. They discuss the possibility of a mole in Section who is feeding Colum intel about Jamie and Claire and the mission. Meanwhile Murtagh and Fergus access the Level 5 room which houses the data they seek.

Chapter 116 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

THANK YOU to all reading and enjoying Covert Operations.  During the month of May, I will post twice weekly on Tuesday and Friday for those who are interested and who are still around after Season 5 finishes. I will still be here writing until I finish this story.   I hope you enjoy what happens next.

   CHAPTER 117

Colum Mackenzie’s words resonated in their heads but the fury that coursed through Section One’s leaders was less than palatable and the tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. Beside her, Madeline noticed the white knuckled fists and the ramrod stance of her superior. Operations’ eyes were sleet grey with fury; his lips were pressed into a white slit of anger; however, Dougal’s reaction was not unexpected. Folding her arms across her chest, Madeline gave him an abrupt glance. Her manner was markedly cool; she too was incensed by Colum’s surprising bombshell. It had been a long time since she had felt such a surge of pure rage, and now thanks to Oversight’s leader he had managed to evoke those feelings within her. However, in some morbid way, Madeline was thankful to him for she had forgotten the rush that such a primal reaction could give. In past occasions such a rush of emotion had given her options that she had used for Section’s advantage … but this time she would have to weigh up her choices well. As shocked as she was by Colum’s surprise, she had been playing this game for far too long to allow raw emotion to overpower cool logic. There was much at stake and personal vendettas at this moment may not be the best option for Section One or for Dougal and her.  She watched as Operations slowly unclenched his fists and shook his head as though struggling to find the right words for what had just transpired in Committee. Calmly Madeline met Dougal’s eyes, watching his reaction. Finally, he blinked and turned to stare back at her, his expression rigid, his words clipped with anger.

“It seems that my brother has been well informed about Jamie and Claire than we had known or anticipated.”  “You don’t think that someone is passing on information to Colum at Oversight?" “It’s possible.” “Then we may have a mole in Section.” “But who?”

“Fergus? Murtagh?” “No … I would find that unlikely. They are opportunists not traitors. Fergus is too loyal to Section and Murtagh has been here too long.” Madeline’s skeptical reply was, “Colum could have gotten to them. There is one thing that is puzzling.” “What’s that?” “I ran into them near a restricted area before coming to Committee.” “Are you convinced they were acting inappropriately?” “No … but it was a surprise to find the two of them there although they gave plausible reasons why.” “Were they acting suspiciously?” “I’m undecided if they were up to something or if it was just a coincidence that the two of them were in the vicinity of a restricted area without clearance.” “Then follow it up Madeline.” “I will.” “But at the moment we have far greater concerns with my brother than to be worrying about Murtagh or Fergus.” “I agree.” Madeline had expected this very response from Operations for she too felt that the two of them had been played for a fool by Colum and that his visit had not only been a reconnaissance mission but had also deeper connotations. It was plainly obvious that Oversight, or more to the point Colum, had his sights set on their leadership at Section One and it was imperative that they do nothing more to antagonise him concerning the Rising Dragons’ mission and in their dealings with Jamie and Claire.  Madeline inhaled and exhaled to compose the fury that welled within and although her face was rigid with barely concealed anger at having been duped by Oversight, her calm tone belied her true feelings. “Yes … so it would seem.” Operations shot her an expression of dark thunder. “And just what are we to do now that Colum has firsthand knowledge of the comings and goings at One?”  Her spine stiffened at his mocking tone and Madeline chose her words carefully. “I admit that it is an unforeseen complication…” Operations snorted disdainfully but said nothing as she added, “… it's unfortunate, but not a complete disaster.”  “Unfortunate!” Dougal turned to her then, his eyes hard as he repeated her words, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Someone at Section One is feeding information to Colum at Oversight and that is unfortunate?” He folded his arms and stared at her, his voice rising in anger. “Explain to me how this is not a complete disaster, Madeline!”  To her unemotional relief, the directive provided Madeline with a perfect opening to a solution.  Meanwhile in the restricted area … The mood of the two men was at polar opposites. The close incident with Joe Abernathy weighed heavily on Fergus’ mind but Murtagh seemed oblivious to the churnings that centered in the pit of his friend’s stomach. With adrenalin kicking up a notch Murtagh had bravado in his step but beside him his ever-cautious buddy was more reticent. Although the corridor was deserted, Fergus continuously referred to his scanning device ever vigilant for any movement that would alert their superiors to their unauthorized access to Level 5.  “Relax Fergus you’re wound up tighter than a spring. We’re in an undocumented area. There shouldn't be anyone here.”  His friend’s confidence was reassuring and Fergus reluctantly nodded but he still kept a close eye on his scanner. They turned right continuing on deeper into the classified level until they arrived at an isolated room with secure doors that seemed to indicate that the room was heavily reinforced and shielded.  “Well what now? How are we going to get in there?” Fergus asked looking over at his friend.  Murtagh’s happy demeanour suddenly dissipated, and thinking that their adventure had come to a sudden end he replied reluctantly, “Yeah.” “Murtagh you promised that if there was another obstacle we would abort.” “Okay … Just give it one try and see if you can access the code. If you’re not successful then we’ll call it quits.”  “Fine.”  Fergus punched the code … two-two-one-seven-one … into the keypad but nothing happened. “Look there's a port on the right,” he stated. “Use your pad again amigo. It might work this time.” Finding the port Murtagh had pointed out, he plugged his keypad in to it. “Try it now.”  But like before, nothing happened and just as Fergus was about to try keying in the code once more, Murtagh placed his hand on his shoulder stopping him. “What’s wrong?” He looked more closely at the entry. “It looks like it might be a retinal scan.” “Well that’s it then. Only Level 5 operatives have clearance for that,” Fergus replied as he watched his friend come closer to examine the mechanism on the door.  However, Murtagh Fitzgibbons placed his eye close to the scanner which immediately lit up. The door opened to reveal a deserted room filled with computer wizardry. “Don’t ask,” he stated when Fergus stood there gobsmacked at what had just happened.  They both stepped through the opened door.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Folding her arms across her chest, Madeline consciously mirrored Dougal's body language, but was careful to keep any hint of defensiveness from her tone. “I’ve been studying Dr Foster’s report on Jamie and Claire and it pains me to say that I feel we have no course of redress concerning the two of them.” Judging by Dougal's cynical expression, Madeline knew he remained in a quandary as to where she was going with this. Taking a step closer to him, she proceeded to push her point home. “We will have to give them some respite together it would seem, to appease Colum.” “No ... it’s out of the question! They will recover here in Medical where we can keep an eye on them.” “Think about it Dougal.”   Madeline replied warily. “Colum knows Jamie and Claire’s recovery is imperative to the Rising Dragons’ mission and he blatantly said they were to have some downtime together. We can’t very well go against his directive now that it has been issued. Mr. Lambert will not take too kindly to our opposition if we do.” Dougal's gaze narrowed, but he finally bowed his head in reluctant acknowledgement. He sighed grudgingly. “I see your point.”  “Anyway, it’s nothing that we have not already discussed. We are not conceding defeat in this matter, but merely covering all bases.” “I never concede defeat Madeline … and you of all people should know that,” he stated brusquely in his usual manner. “I think Colum knows that as well, but think about this rationally. We can bide our time until the time is right. It will give us time to reassess the mission profile, still keep our finger on the pulse as well as keep Oversight and more importantly Mr. Lambert out of our affairs. It’s a win-win situation.” Operations glared back at her as though giving the matter careful consideration. “Fine … do it!” At his acceptance, the tension in Madeline’s neck suddenly eased somewhat. Her mind was already leaping forward planning her next course of action, but she needed to get back to her office in order to do so.  “Madeline?”

She glanced back at Dougal to find him watching her with knowing eyes. “Yes?” “How do you want to play this out?” His pale stare seemed to look right through her. “I’ll finish going over Dr Foster’s report and recommendations and when the time is right, we’ll let them know of our decision. Agreed?” “Agreed.” 

 Meanwhile in the restricted area …

 Murtagh and Fergus entered a small circular room lit with eerie green and pink lights. It had a surreal feel to it and both of the operatives were a little taken aback at what they were seeing.

“Wow! I’ve heard about this section.” Fitzgibbons exclaimed taking in their surroundings as if seeing this room for the first time was like opening a Christmas present.  “What's stored here Murtagh?"  “Each segment is a Mission. When you see one that's lit up that means it's active. It also houses all personal data on Level 5 operatives and above.” Somewhat overawed, Fergus took a quick moment to cast his eyes around the room as well. The walls were lined with rows of panels indicating the subject residing inside the databank and he studied the various panels lining both sides. They passed a bank of blank monitors then a series of labelled ones. Murtagh walked over and started to read the panel labels but couldn’t find what he was after. He looked around and then saw a panel marked PERSONNEL.  “Hey Fergus … Got it … over here … I think this is what we’re looking for.” “Good.”  “Okay can you open it?” Fergus immediately rushed over and examined the panel. There was a handle at the bottom of the panel and he pressed it to access the computer. The shield immediately rolled up to reveal a screen and keyboard.  “Look amigo … There’s a docking port for your gizmo about waist height. Can you see it?” “Yes.” Excitedly he replied. “Plug in your panel then.”  Fergus did so and suddenly a command bar appeared as the monitor pulled up a search request … ENTER ACCESS CODE.  He’d hacked into many a mechanism but this was something new to him. What was the code? he wondered. He looked at Murtagh who shrugged his shoulders.  “Now what?”  Fergus knew he was flying blind but when all else failed he reverted to the high security access code from the Vickers Log. “Nothing. Just wait.”  Punching in the code, he tapped his fingers anxiously while beside him Murtagh waited with bated breath. It seemed as if they waited an eternity but in a manner of seconds several windows appeared with the last one on the monitor screen reading … LIST DIRECTORY - FILE SET “Yes!” Murtagh also gave a slight “whoop” when he saw what was on the screen and watched as Fergus quickly keyed in the request instructions … JAMES FRASER’S MEDICAL RECORDS.

ACCESSING DIRECTORY appeared on the screen and once again the two men waited for the computer to process the demand. With eager eyes Murtagh and Fergus watched it search for Jamie's name to download the information. Suddenly, another window appeared but the information was not what they wanted. The emblazoned bright red letters of the warning icon were glaring, flashing a statement that nearly dashed their hopes. ACCESS DENIED. However, when other instructions appeared beneath the statement lettered in blue, they breathed a sigh hoping that the extra Intel would show how they could access what was denied them. Their hopes faded though, when it was apparent that what they sought was not possible. SECURITY LEVEL 9 - ERROR

Discouraged the two men felt downhearted as they stared at the screen in puzzlement. However, it was not at all surprising that Jamie's personnel information was restricted and only accessible by Operations or Madeline. It made perfect sense that this particular cold operative’s files would be the most difficult to access.

Fergus tried everything possible that he could think of to access the encrypted code that would let them view Jamie’s Intel … but to no avail.  “We tried Murtagh but without Level 9 authority there is no way we can ingress Jamie’s personal data.” After having come so far it was such a letdown that they were not able to get the Intel they wanted. 

“Yeah we did …  but … is there any other way around that Fergus? You’re Section’s resident IT genius, and your computer abilities are legendary, if anyone can hack into the codes you can buddy. You can hack intricate codes and find out anything and anybody. Can you work around this one?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible. I can give it one more try but gee Murtagh Level 9 that’s gonna be tough.”

“You can do it. You’re good at piggybacking onto obscure access codes,” Murtagh encouraged confident in his friend’s computer prowess. “Give it your best shot and no pressure amigo,” he added for good measure.

Fergus wracked his brain to come up with a solution that might work. He was so nervous that at first, he couldn’t think straight. He’d been able to hack into terrorists’ intel clandestinely many times and this should be a cakewalk if he was able to pull himself together first.  If he was able to break the code then they could also access Operations and Madeline’s records as well, but that would be dicing with abeyance if they were to find any intel that they shouldn’t.  However, they had come too far to stumble at the last hurdle so he had to give it his best shot.

Section’s computer expert was smart and resourceful and if anyone could break the access code it was him. He just had to have confidence in his abilities.  Fergus knew he could do it but he had to think on his feet. If he could outwit Operations and beat the system to succeed in this task, then they would have the data they needed for Dr. Foster. With a furrowed brow he set to the task at hand.

Murtagh stood by and watched his buddy as his fingers glided over the computer keyboard.  He could see that Fergus was concentrating on getting the right formula that would gain entrance to Jamie’s file and it was obvious that the wheels were spinning in his mind. Murtagh watched his friend vacillating at what he could do to break the code and he saw beads of perspiration dot his forehead as to what he could try and do.  However, Fergus would have to find something soon as time was of the essence.  Madeline and Operations would be finished in Committee at any moment and they needed to get out of here A.S.A.P.  Still, he had great faith in his little dynamo pal to be able to pull off the impossible.

Suddenly Fergus looked up at is buddy with a broad grin on his face.  

“You got something amigo?”

“I’m pretty sure this will work Murtagh but if this doesn’t, we have to go.”

“Sure thing.”

With a smile he couldn’t hide on his face, Fergus relayed, “I think I’ve got it.  It was so simple that it was staring me right in the face.  I was expecting it to be more complicated than it was and obviously Operations would never think that the anyone except him or Madeline would need the code.”

“Slow down, slow down Fergus!” Murtagh said as he saw the excited anticipation on the young techie’s face at having cracked the code.

“Operations put a firewall on the code which was much too easy to get around. He should have staggered it to create a series of traps that was impossible to break.”

“Well then.  That makes you better than the man who designed it.” Murtagh replied pleased as punch with Fergus’ skill.

“Let’s see what happens now,” he replied as he tried again. Following the same steps as before but only this time Fergus tapped in the code in reverse.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Yes!  You’re a genius Claudel,” Murtagh exclaimed as ACCESSING DIRECTORY appeared on the screen in front of them. In no time at all Jamie’s Medical and DNA records began appearing on the monitor. The two men quickly downloaded the intel to Fergus’ little pad but as more intel flashed onto the screen both men looked at each other with stunned expressions as one piece of information caught them by surprise.

“What the …?”  They both exclaimed at the same time giving each other an O.M.G. look.

James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser was Dougal and Colum Mackenzie’s nephew and their blood types were the same. No wonder this intel was classified and only Operations and Madeline could access it. Did Jamie even know he was related to Dougal?  They thought not.  Did that explain Operations contempt of Jamie because he was a better man, a better leader for Section One, than Dougal was?  This information was dynamite. They could use this intel to their advantage if needs be further down the track but for now, they both decided to sit on it until it may be needed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Still shell-shocked by their discovery Murtagh was the first to recover his composure. “Alright then. We’re done. Fold it up Fergus. Let’s go. I guess we better get out of here before we’re missed.”  Fergus pulled his gizmo out of the port, closed down the computer, lowered the shield and replaced everything as it was before leaving no clues that anyone had tried to attain entry to the classified material files. In a hurry to leave before both he and Murtagh were discovered, the two men then made their way to the exit but as soon as they left the room an alarm sounded. The piercing sound had them freezing in place.  “Do you hear that?” Fergus nervously asked knowing that their goose was cooked. They’d finally been discovered. There was no way that they’d be able to talk their way out of this one. “Yes, I hear it. They've added an egress code.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ However, Murtagh did not appear panicked. Remembering back to the days when Letitia was in charge of Section One, he’d been responsible for many a scenario such as what they now faced. There was a solution to their dilemma but they had to be quiet and they needed to get away from here A.S.A.P.

“In about ten seconds, two operatives should enter from the Southeast to check why the alarm was activated. So, we’ll go the other way.”  “Are you sure?” “Sure I’m sure.” Fergus gave him an evil eye look as if to say, you’ve gotta be joking. “This is a grade two breach Murtagh, they’ll close all entry and exit points.” “Trust me … I’ll get us out of here without being seen.” “I’m never going to forgive you if you get us killed Murtagh Fitzgibbons … remember that!”  Fergus was skeptical but what choice did he have but to put his blind faith in his friend.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The two men scurried away down a corridor toward the Northwest as quietly as possible. No sooner had Fergus and Murtagh disappeared from sight than two operatives hurried down a circular set of stairs and converged on the room. Raising their weapons, they each took one side of the open door. Gavin Hayes nodded to the other operative and together they entered the room weapons at the ready. Finding it empty, they lowered their guns and surveyed the room. There was no evidence of any tampering with sensitive files, nothing appeared to be out of place and there were no clues left behind that they could act upon. The two operatives decided in order to maximize their chance of finding an intruder they would need to split up to search the corridors in different directions. If there was a trespasser in this area, they would find them soon enough as the only way anyone could escape from this room was to take either one or the other corridor. Hayes also called for back up to converge on the corridors from the egress point thus giving any intruder no way to avoid capture. Keith Lesley took off down the Northwest corridor in which Fergus and Murtagh had made their escape to search for the intruder but he was unaware that Hayes had unfortunately been left behind. His colleague had been trapped when the doors suddenly closed behind him before he was able to exit the room.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Perspiration poured off Fergus’ forehead and his nervousness was heightened every time he heard the slightest noise thinking that they had been discovered. However, unbeknownst to them, the two friends were doing a good job of eluding the operative who had come to investigate the breach. Nevertheless, Fergus was very uneasy and continually checked to make sure they were not being followed. He jumped at any little noise and kept his scanner at the ready to check for heat spots ahead and behind them.  “Murtagh!” He whispered anxiously looking scared. “Someone's coming.”  “How do you know?” “I’ve picked up an infra-red heat schematic. I'm tracking it. What do we do? What do we do?” He repeated with alarm lacing his voice. “Fergus, just stay calm.” With another panicked reply he blurted out. “I can't!” “Yes y'can. Listen to me carefully.” His buddy reassured him firmly. “Just keep calm and do exactly as I say.” They continually kept out of sight of the operative who had come their way keeping one step ahead of him at all times. The two friends entered a new winding corridor and raced along as quietly as they could until they came to dissecting passageways. Realising just where he was, Murtagh suddenly stopped. He looked to his left then he looked at the floor.  Fergus nearly ran into him. “What are you doing?” “Looking for something.” “Looking for what?” He asked incredulously aware that they were being followed and time was of the essence if they were to avoid being seen and detained. “Murtagh … we’re in dire straits here.” However, Fitzgibbons ignored his friend’s panicked pleas as he found what he was looking for… a small indentation on the wall. Identifying the panel, he pressed it, waited for the secret escape route to appear then ushered Fergus through.  “How? … How did you …?” Fergus mumbled surprisingly as the panel silently closed behind them separating them from the operative who was searching for them.  Murtagh raised an eyebrow in mock triumph. “I'm a rebel. When you’ve been hanging around this place as long as I … well you get my drift? … Now follow me.”  They walked over to some circular stairs that obviously led back to the top level. Making their way up they were soon back on an unsecured level. Once there, they righted their clothes. Relieved, Fergus wiped the sweat from his brow and Murtagh straightened his bandanna then they strolled off toward Section's Common Area, doing their best to act nonchalant.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Hot on the heels of the suspected intruder the operative turned the corner with his gun drawn, only to be surprised to find nothing and no one in the corridor. Perplexed he lowered his weapon and shook his head in disbelief. He thought that he’d been on to something but it had been a wild goose chase after all and he’d come up with no proof that there had ever been an intruder in this corridor. Perhaps it had been a false alarm. Other operatives soon approached from the dissected passageways but had nothing to report. They too had come up empty handed. Lesley then contacted his colleague.  “Hayes? Did you find anything?” “No … I’m trapped in the room.” “What?” “The door closed before I was able to escape. Did you see anyone in the Northwest corridor?” “No. No one.”  “What about the other operatives?” ‘No … nothing.” “You better report in then,” he replied unaware of the fate that would befall him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on TUESDAY 5th May

[marinaaniseed]

I fell for your love

Song: I fell for your love from the album Born to die by Grand Funk Railroad.

Summary: A lot of fucking smut.

Pairing: Female reader x Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Length: 2,042 words

A/N: I went over my arbitrary word limit again. Part 8 of Death on the stairs. This immediately follows on from Adventure. It’s basically all smut, with a little bit of inexperienced Steve, and some nice feels. See here for what this is all about.

***

“Sure, Steve. No problem,” Bucky says, gently lifting you up and off him, lying you down on the settee next to him. “Didn’t realise you were still up,” he adds with a smirk, looking at Steve’s hand where it continues to rub over his crotch.

“I came to get dinner, but I think I might skip straight to dessert,” Steve says, dropping to his knees between your legs. “Unless you have any objections?”

“No, no Steve. I’d like that, although wouldn’t you rather wait until I’m cleaned up a little?” you note, feeling Bucky leaking down your thighs.

“Not at all, I get to taste you and Buck at the same time,” Steve observes, running his nose along your inner thigh.

“You could get the same if you sucked me,” Bucky butts in, causing Steve to jerk up and glare at him.

“Don’t be rude, Buck,” Steve chastises him. “It’s ladies first, you know that.”

Steve kisses along where his nose was rubbing. He’s grown a beard while he’s away. It suits him, although it tickles your sensitive skin, causing you to writhe around under Steve.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you observe, after Steve doesn’t move his mouth any closer to your vulva.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what it is I need to do,” Steve says, his earlier bravado evaporating.

“I could give you a demonstration,” Bucky chimes in with a grin.

“Bucky, no. Let Steve explore on his own,” you comment, giving Steve a reassuring smile. “Remember where you put your thumb before? Same idea, just use your tongue.”

Steve gives you a shy nod and Bucky’s torn between shock and shaking with laughter. Steve is a lot more confident and forward usually, but it seems the addition of you has short-circuited his brain.

They’d been fucking and sucking each other, on and off, for several decades. Casually, at first, anyway. Bucky had made it no secret that there were others. Had to have a reputation for being a ladies’ man, so that people didn’t realise he was also a man's man. He knew skinny Steve hadn’t gotten much action, but surely Captain America must’ve had his pick of the USO dames? Judging by the way he very tentatively moves his mouth your body, Bucky reconsiders his assumptions.

Steve is soft and slow, savouring the taste. He’s still a little scared that he’s going to do it wrong, especially now he’s got an audience.

“So good, Steve, so good,” you sigh, feeling him smile a little as he continues to lick. “You can use your fingers like you did before, or lick there too. I’ll let you know if anything doesn’t feel good.”

In all honesty, it’s a blessing that Steve’s being as gentle as he is. You need time to recover, having hit the point of sensitivity where it’s both pleasurable and painful.

Bucky’s still slightly bemused, but glad that at least you had worked out Steve’s inexperience, even if he hadn’t. He’s glad that you’re patient, guiding Steve to do what you need him to do without making him feel embarrassed. He’s a little jealous, if he’s honest, though he knows he’s got no right to be. He’s had his fun, it’s his turn to watch now.

Steve moves to give your entrance a couple of tentative licks, before sliding two fingers in, cum coating them. You mostly taste of Bucky, and he comments as much, before moving his curious tongue back to your clit. He tries to remember how he caused you to tremble last time, adjusting his technique until he’s got a good rhythm, licking and stroking as you shake underneath him, squeezing his fingers and forcing more cum down his hand.

It’s too much, and you bite onto your upper arm to stifle your screams.

“No, none of that,” Bucky says, pulling your head and your arm in opposite directions. “Steve wants to hear you scream for him.”

It’s more of a wail than anything, your body protesting at being hit by another wave of pleasure. Your thighs clamp down around Steve’s head. When you finally relax your grip, Steve sits up, his beard glistening.

“Wow,” he whispers, in awe of what’s just happened. He licks his middle finger, leaning over to offer Bucky his index finger.

“Wow, indeed,” Bucky observes, grabbing Steve’s wrist and licking his whole hand clean. “Get up here and give me a kiss.”

You’re happy to lie there and watch as Steve straddles Bucky’s lap, just like you were earlier, running their fingers through each other's hair.

By the time Steve pulls away, Bucky’s beard is equally messy. You can’t decide if it’s hilarious or hot, maybe both.

“Got room for a second dessert?” Bucky asks with a grin.

“God, Buck, you really are the worst,” Steve groans, but slinks back onto the floor anyway. He seems much more at ease in this position, eagerly sucking Bucky into his mouth, sloppy sounds filling the air.

Bucky massages your unbroken foot, making cute little noises as Steve works his cock. You’re so sated and comfortable, lying there listening, it almost wouldn’t matter if anyone walked in right now.

“Wait a minute,” Bucky tells Steve after a while, and you hear him withdraw with a wet pop.

“Why? You’re almost there.”

“Yeah, I know that, but it’s not really fair to you, is it?” Bucky explains. “A lesser man would’ve exploded or fainted by now, not doing anything with that wood of yours.”

“Patience is a virtue, Buck,” Steve answers.

“Yeah, Buck. Good things cum in those who wait,” you add with a smirk.

“Well yeah. See that’s the thing,” Bucky continues. “I was thinking, maybe, only if you both wanted to, but maybe you could finish me off with your mouth, and Steve could have a go at fucking you.”

“Ah, a spitroast,” you say in understanding.

“Sure, if that’s what you call it,” Bucky says with a nod.

“I don’t know Buck,” Steve says. “I mean, did you get what you wanted already?” he asks, turning to address you.

“I’m very satisfied, but what I want now is for you to enjoy yourself. So, if you like the idea, then we can do it,” you explain, letting Steve decide what he wants to do.

“I’m happy just doing this, then maybe Buck can return the favour,” he mumbles, a little embarrassed.

“Steve, you don’t gotta be embarrassed about wanting to sleep with Y/N,” Bucky says, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry we got started without you.”

“No, I don’t think it’s that,” you note, sitting up and adjusting your position so you can put your hand on top of Bucky’s. Your other hand strokes Steve’s hair. “Is this... would this be your first time with a woman?” you ask him gently.

He doesn’t answer, but he can’t look either of you in the eye, bright pink flushing across his cheeks.

“It’s ok to be nervous,” you tell him. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But if you want to try, we can do that too.”

“Promise you won’t laugh if I do it wrong?”

“Promise.” You nudge Bucky with your shoulder to get him to promise too.

“Ok, let’s try what Buck said.”

Steve gets up and undresses slowly, folding his clothes into neat piles, in stark contrast to how Bucky’s clothes are strewn everywhere.

He looks a little lost standing there, like he needs to be told what to do.

“Why don’t you sit back on Bucky, kiss him for a bit to help you relax?” you suggest.

Steve complies and you slip your hand between them, stroking their cocks together. The tension across Steve’s shoulders seems to ease and he lets out satisfied little noises as he kisses Bucky.

“I think I’d like to try it now,” Steve says, pulling away from Bucky.

“Get up, then,” Bucky grins, giving Steve’s bum a slap.

You ready yourself on all fours, head resting on Bucky’s stomach, gently licking at the tip of his cock.

“Let’s get Steve settled, before I start sucking you properly,” you tell him.

“Sounds good to me, doll,” he says, stroking his vibranium hand down your back. “You alright Steve?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking down in awe as he settles in behind you. “Do I need to do anything? Do we need lube?”

“No, no I think we’re good to go,” you note. “Unless you were planning to take me up the arse?”

“No… not unless you want me to?”

“Maybe another time,” you answer, and Bucky’s cock bobs in excitement at that.

A firm hand grips your hip as Steve lines himself up, sliding in slowly. It’s so different from being inside Buck. He makes a deep noise of pleasure.

“Just start moving whenever you’re ready,” you say over your shoulder, before sucking on Bucky in earnest.

Steve is pretty slow and gentle, but you’re already so sensitive, and the angle is just right for Steve to hit your G-spot and the way he’s grinding in circles is hitting your clit pretty consistently too. Bucky wraps his vibranium arm under you to help keep you balanced, cold fingers tweaking your nipple back and forth. Nobody is going to last long anyway, so you let Bucky support you, reaching a hand back so that it’s between your legs, Steve’s balls rubbing against your palm as he circles around.

Your moans around Bucky’s cock as you get close are enough to give him his second orgasm of the night, making loud, indecipherable noises as he goes. You swallow and lift your head just in time to howl out in pleasure, cursing and blaspheming as one final orgasm shocks your body as Steve picks up the pace and starts to really pound into you. He tries to last, but the noises you and Bucky are making, the way your legs shake, and you squeeze around him are all too much, and he finishes with a low moan.

The two of them let you down gently, your head in Bucky’s lap as he strokes your hair, Steve draping himself along your back, mumbling praises into your skin.

You must be exhausted, Bucky thinks. He knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Steve. But his heart warms in a way he didn’t realise was possible, as he looks down at you both, piled in his lap and along the cushions.

He loves and is loved. There were a lot of years when he didn’t think that was possible.

“Shower?” he suggests as you start to fall asleep on his lap, drooling slightly on his thigh.

“Shower,” Steve agrees, getting off of you. “FRIDAY, could you remove access to the footage of this for everyone except the three of us? And could you redirect anyone who might cross our path on the way back to Y/N’s room?”

“Not a problem, Captain,” the AI replies cheerfully.

“I’ll gather up our clothes, you carry her back,” Steve tells Bucky. You’re barely awake, let alone able to stand.

“Are you glad we’re home?” Bucky asks him, as they make their way to your room.

“I’m always glad,” he says with a smile, pile of clothes held strategically at crotch level. “Can’t help feeling we did this the wrong way round.”

“I dunno Stevie. Maybe we needed to get this out of our systems, before we all start to get to know each other properly,” Bucky notes. “But we can arrange a proper date, for sure.”

You snuffle a little, your nose buried into the side of his neck. Bucky feels bad knowing that he’s going to wake you when he gets to the shower, but he feels like you’ll appreciate being clean.

“It’s better than I ever dreamed it would be,” Steve tells Bucky, as they reach your door.

“Being with a dame?” he queries.

“Everything really. That, being with you, being with Y/N. Sickly, skinny me never thought I’d be able to have one partner, let alone two. Never thought that we’d ever be allowed to be together, like really together. I’m glad I lived long enough to experience it.”

“Same, pal.”