#like… he’s repressed and realized it when he met adam… sigh

[turnipoddity]

i need to know.. do you think lawrence is gay or bi

In my own personal headcanon he’s gay

[the-bau-quinjet]

Trending

Summary: Steve thinks you’re too young to like him despite the obvious hints you’re dropping.

Warnings: unspecified age gap

Word count: 2246

a/n: I’ve clearly spent too much time on TikTok recently, but inspired me to write something so that's good. It was loosely based on a request for a young reader x Steve, but I forgot part of the request so I'm gonna write something else for that one! Also, I wrote this on my phone so please excuse any typos I missed when trying to edit it lol

Masterlist

Messing with Steve is one of your favorite things to do. Tiny pranks, over the top flirting, poking fun at his lack of understanding of technology. Anything you can do to get him to roll his eyes and chuckle.

Nat would say it’s because of your feelings for him. She would be correct. Not that you’d ever admit that to anyone. Nope. So instead, you have your fun, and enjoy the way his eyes crinkle and his cheeks redden.

Your newest method of hearing the sweet sound of Steve’s laugh? TikTok. It’s a double whammy. One because he doesn’t understand the app and two because a lot of the trends make him blush.

It started as a fun way to blow off steam. Sometimes, being one of the younger and newer team members made you feel like an outsider. Of course, Peter was younger than you, but he had his own friends outside of the team. You didn’t have anyone else. When Tony found you and invited you to join, it was you against the world. Now you have this makeshift family.

Having your account on TikTok helped you when you hadn’t really become a part of the group yet. You bonded with Peter because of his account, and you found a new way to make Steve blush.

Anyway, you’ve learned way more TikTok dances than you ever would have thought just to see his pink cheeks. It’s not even always over the top dances that have him chuckling. The last trend you did had him laughing the entire day. It was that sound about Wednesday Adams having one thing on her mind. Only when it said homicide, instead of a deadpan expression you panned the camera to show Bucky and Sam arguing over who got the last donut.

Of course, you knew when you made the video it would appeal to Steve’s sense of humor. Sam and Bucky feature in a lot of your videos for that exact reason.

In general, you make a lot of videos featuring the Avengers just to keep Tony happy. He likes to be the center of attention, plus the only way he would approve of your account was if it could also feature as PR for the team. You agreed, as long as you had final say over what you posted. There’s nothing scripted or designed for a specific reason, you just feature the team sometimes.

Like when that sound from the Big Bang theory was popular amongst Avengers fans, you made a video confessing to Pepper that you’d been thinking about the Avengers, panning to show the team during training.

Of course, the text on the screen said “you are an Avenger” instead of “I believe that”, allowing you to play off the joke. But still, it was fun to include the team.

One of your favorite videos features none other than Scott Lang, mostly because nobody else would do it. Scott thought it was hilarious though.

Using the sound from New Girl, Scott played Schmidt and you Jess. The text on the screen read as follows:

Scott: You just walk around all day thinking about America’s Ass?

You: Yeah, don’t you?

Scott: No! How do you get anything done?

You: It’s hard…

Steve blushed like crazy when everyone cornered him to watch it. Bucky, Sam, and Tony wouldn’t stop bringing it up for at least a month. A part of you hoped he might make a move after that video, seeing as you put yourself out there, but he just assumed it was a joke and laughed it off.

Honestly, you were running out of trends that you could use to get him to understand your feelings. You only had two ideas left, and one of them would be mortifying if it didn’t work out…

-

“Steve. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bucky sighed, exasperated with Steve for the umpteenth time that month. “You’ve been pining for forever, just make a move!” he whisper yelled, doing his best not to throttle his lifelong friend.

Steve rolled his eyes, purposefully ignoring Bucky’s pointed glare. The two men had spent the last hour looking through your TikTok account. Bucky was adamant that you liked Steve, but the blonde didn’t believe it, despite the so called proof Bucky kept forcing him to watch.

“Buck, would you please just back off? We’re friends. She’s too young to want to be with me like that.” Steve blushed, thinking about the context of his words.

Before Bucky could say anything about how repressing his feelings is bad for him, a new video popped up on your account. Bucky smirked when he saw the thumbnail was once again a picture of Steve, this time with a beard. Steve took the silence as an opportunity to escape, walking into his closet to change.

The video opened with a video of you and Natasha just hanging out, you lip syncing to the words “I like you have a cupcake.” You repeated the words as the video cut to you and Tony.

Bucky nearly dropped the phone when “smack my ass like a drum” blared from the speaker. He cackled bending over in a fit of laughter when he realized that’s what Steve’s picture was used for- and one where he had a beard to boot.

“What is it now, jerk?” Steve emerged from his closet, having changed into loungewear. The sight of Bucky fully cackling had him nervous.

Bucky tossed him the phone, doing his best to stop laughing long enough to tell him to watch the most recent video. With a hesitant sigh, Steve obliged.

Again, Bucky rolled his eyes at how obvious Steve’s feelings were. The second he saw you on the screen, he smiled. And not one of those half hearted polite smiles, a full on happy smile.

Steve’s eyes widened, nearly bulging out of his head when he got to the end of the video.

“‘She doesn’t want to be with me like that.’” Bucky mocked his friends earlier words, grabbing his phone back. “Punk, I don’t know how much more obvious she could be.”

With one more glare in Steve’s direction, Bucky finally left him to his own thoughts. Okay, so you made a lot of videos about how you find him attractive. That doesn’t necessarily mean you’d want to be in a relationship with him. Leave it to Steve to talk himself out of everything Bucky had spent so long trying to convince him of.

-

You were desperate at this point. You honestly thought the cupcake one would send him over the edge, but it didn’t work either. It has been three days, and you know Steve’s seen the video because everyone likes to tease him about it.

“Naaaaaat, it’s not working,” you whined, dramatically throwing yourself onto her bed. She laughed at your antics, briefly looking up at you before deciding to stop what she was going and give you her full attention.

“Look, not only is Steve one of the most clueless people I’ve ever met when it comes to women, but he can also talk himself out of believing someone’s interested in him. Especially you.” Nat watched as you lifted your head from her comforter, slowly turning to stare at her with narrowed eyes.

“Especially me?” you questioned. Why would you have a different standard?

“Y/N, Steve’s from the 40s. He’s super old fashioned. You're a hot young thing, super up to date on modern trends. He thinks you're just messing around as friends because he doesn’t believe someone as young as you would be interested in actually having a relationship with him,” she spelt it out for you, sick of trying to get you to figure it out on your own.

You took a minute to fully understand what she was saying, but then sat up when a new idea struck. “So you’re saying I need to be more direct?”

Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded nonetheless.

“I’ve got an idea. Thanks Nat!” you ran from the room before she could question your newest plan, instead checking to make sure her notifications were on for posts from your TikTok account.

-

“Steve!” you shouted when you saw him down the hall, about to turn a corner. He immediately stopped, turning back to see you running at him. “I need your help!”

You pulled him into the gym, briefly glancing around the room to make sure it was empty. Confirming nobody else was present, you set up your phone on one of the weight racks to record the two of you. It was already open to the recording section of TikTok, the sound you needed queued and ready to begin.

“What’s going on?” Steve looked between you and the phone, nerves heightening as he realized what you were doing. All of your videos about him thus far hasn’t actually involved him filming anything.

“I just need you to react to this trend, okay? It’s kind of old, but that doesn’t really matter,” you spoke quickly, trying to start the video before he could decline.

The music started playing instantly, with Steve awkwardly looking between the screen and you. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was reacting to, and it had him on edge. Just as the song reached the chorus, you turned and grabbed his face. Throwing caution to the wind, you followed through with your plan before you could back out, kissing him with all the passion and emotion you’d been holding back.

Steve froze, clearly surprised by your actions. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer. He kissed you with equal passion and emotion, no longer paying attention to your phone recording the moment.

Neither of you noticed when the music cut off, too wrapped up in each other. When the need for air overpowered the desire to keep kissing him, you pulled back to gasp in a few breaths. Steve leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closed and breathing erratic.

The two do you spent the next few moments just breathing, trying to come to terms with what just happened. You gasped when his hands moved, one resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek. His eyes were still closed when you chanced a glance at him.

“What was the trend?” he breathily whispered the words, still coming down from the high of kissing you.

“Huh?” you mumbled, unable to comprehend the question when he was still touching you like this.

“The TikTok trend? What was it?” his grip on your hip tightened, but his hand framing your face remained gentle.

“Oh, uh, it was- it was kissing your best friend/crush.” You whispered, heart still racing from his proximity. Your nerves had never been greater. Yeah, Nat always tells you that Steve has feelings for you, but what if he was just being polite? Maybe he didn’t know how to reject you when you kissed him out of nowhere, and now he’s trying to find a way to turn you down gently. What if-

“Was my reaction good enough to post?” he broke your train of thought with another question. You took a minute to think about the question, your brain still moving like molasses

“Um, that depends…” you froze when his eyes opened and stared into yours.

“On?” he prompted you to continue.

“Which caption I can use.” you finished the thought, finally remembering the two most common outcomes of the trend.

“What are the choices?” Steve smirked when you looked flustered, clearly not expecting this conversation.

“Uh, the two-” he began rubbing small circles into your hip with his thumb, effectively cutting off your train of thought again. It wasn’t until he lightly squeezed your hip again that you remember you were answering his question.

“Right! The two most common captions are some variation of ‘this was so awkward’ or ‘we’re dating now’,” you managed to blurt out the choices, blushing when he smiled at you.

“Well, I know which I prefer…” you waited with bated breath as he prolonged the silence, enjoying seeing you so on edge. You nearly whined when he let you go, moving to pick up your phone from the weight rack.

You watched in silence as he typed out a caption, tapping each letter with his pointer finger. A small smile formed on your lips at his adorable old man behavior. He then managed to find the post button, adding the video to your account before handing you the phone to see what he chose.

Your smile only grew after you read the caption, dropping the phone and immediately kissing him again.

-

Meanwhile, Nat had gathered the rest of the team that happened to be around to wait for whatever video you had planned to be posted.

Tony, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Vision, Peter, and Clint all watched as the new video popped up on the screen. Peter bounced with excitement when he heard the song, instantly recognizing the trend. The rest of the group watched as you kissed Steve, mouths gaping open when he actually kissed you back.

Fans were already commenting about how long it took for the two of you to get together, but the team was too focused on laughing at the caption to pay any mind to the comments.

She said the trend was kind of old, but that fits because I’ve got a habit of waiting too long anyways.

Permanent taglist: @averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @strawberryspence @sebastnstn @jswessie187 @ellobruv

Marvel: @leyannrae @livstilinski @oceaniamaddness @justreadingficsdontmindme

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Thackery Binx

(My alright gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(I wasn’t entirely sure how I would work this one out but I think I came up with a pretty cute concept)

- When you first met Thackery, you certainly weren’t thinking of him as a future boyfriend. You’d just moved to Salem, something you; a baby witch, were particularly excited about.

- It was a night like any other, but you’d decided that tonight would be the night that you’d perform your first ritual. So you went down to the Sanderson house late at night, sneaking inside though it wasn’t like anyone really cared what happened to the place.

- Thackery took immediate notice of you, watching from behind a few corners as you walked around and examined the place. He figured you were just a stupid teenager; albeit a very pretty one, and would leave any moment. That was when you settled down on the floor and opened your bag, lighting a few candles before getting all your things situated.

- You closed your eyes, beginning your chant as you held your hands out. The room around you was dead silent as you focused on what you were doing, willing your ritual to work. That was when you nearly had a heart attack as Thackery lunged onto your back.

- You scrambled to stand, gasping for breath and nearly knocking over the flames you’d lit as you searched the area, laughing breathlessly once you saw the black cat a little ways away from you. You cursed at him half heartedly, pressing a hand to your beating heart as you crouched down to his level.

“Are you my familiar? Huh?” You whispered sweetly. He watched you intently but didn’t move, letting you reach out slowly and scratch behind his ears.

- You looked around the room, sighing softly as you leaned over and blew out your candles, gathering your things to leave. So much for tonight being the night.

- Perhaps nothing happened that night but you would try again. You kept returning to the place, sometimes bringing your things, sometimes just bringing food for the cat that was always there. After a while, the mangy feline began to follow you around even outside of the house, always showing up as you went outside or arriving at your window mewling to be let in.

- It was a few weeks after you first encountered the cat that you’d come to realize just who you’d encountered. You’d had a rough day and just wanted to get away for a while, so you’d went back to the Sanderson house, knowing no one else would bother you there. Well, no one but your furry friend.

“So we meet again.” you smiled, watching as the familiar feline stalked towards you and nuzzles into your outstretched hand.

“I should give you a name, shouldn’t I? I can’t just keep calling you kitty. If you’re my familiar then you need a sophisticated name. Are you my familiar? ...Or are you Thackery Binx.” You’d joked, remembering the tale of the boy and the witches.

“So glad you’ve finally realized.” Your mouth nearly dropped to the floor.

- Well now that the secret was out, Thackery explained everything and enlisted your help in trying to turn him back into a human, and potentially to get rid of the Sanderson sisters for good. And so, you began your search for the solution to his century old problem.

- It took a while but you thought that you finallly figured it out, so you brought him into your room, set everything up, and began the process. The candles were lit, the herbs were placed down, the runes were written, and... nothing happened.

- You were dissapointed upon opening your eyes and seeing nothing but the usual black cat sitting before you. But then, the candles blew out and you were plunged into darkness.

- You gasped, looking around wildly as though you’d be able to see anything in the dark. You were just about to get up and turn on the light when all of a sudden, the candles were lit once more. You blinked a couple times as your eyes adjusted to the light ...and there he was.

Okay, so why the fuck is he hot. “Wow. You’re like handsome. I mean you’re a boy and you’re like seventeen. I mean you’re not old, you’re ...you’re you...again.

- The boy smiled, glancing down at his hands and then the rest of his body in awe before he surged forward and wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into a tight hug.

“You’re brilliant, y/n! Absolutely brilliant!”

- Well, time would reveal that you weren’t as brilliant as you or him thought. Yes, technically you did turn him human again, but only in certain places and only while you were alone.

- For instance: your property; where he was turned human again, the Sanderson house; where he was turned into a cat, and the graveyard; where he should have been all this time. Anywhere else and he was just a wittle puddytat.

- But Thackery was more than grateful. He’d been a cat for so long that being human for any length of time felt like a miracle. And now that he was partially human, he felt that he could finally try to do something about his growing feelings for you.

- Over time, the two of you grew closer and your will they, won’t they relationship began. He came so close to confessing to you; more than once, but you were always somehow interrupted or you said something that threw him off.

- Then, after nearly half a year of him falling more and more in love with you everyday; he finally confessed his feelings to you.

- You arrived home one day, only to find a piece of paper folded neatly on your pillow. You opened it and found a long letter detailing everything he loved about you and telling you exactly how he felt. Believe me, you’ll never read anything more romantic in your life.

- Like a rational person who was just told how much their crush likes them in the most beautiful way possible, you ran off to find him. You had a good idea as to where he was hiding out: the Sanderson house.

- Once you got there, you burst through the doors, prompting him to stand up nervously, awaiting your reaction. He was just about to try and say something before you strode over to him and pulled him into a kiss. After he got over the initial shock, he smiled and kissed back, pulling you closer as his hands found your waist.

- Alright, so maybe he’s just an ...indoor boyfriend, but you love him all the same and he loves you with all his heart.

- Pda? He’s a cat in public so it’s a bit hard to do, but you can pet him, hold him in your arms or kiss his fuzzy little head; people will just think he’s your pet.

- Nose kisses. They’re perfect for cat Thackery and normal Thackery, and for you at any given time.

- Soft, gentle kisses.

- Innocent and sweet touches. Sometimes he just touches you for the sake of touching you, there’s no real reason behind it besides the fact that he never wants you forget how nice you feel.

- He was a Puritan so; while he definitely has a bit more modern ideas from living through the years, he most likely has a few prudish beliefs that you may need to pull out of him.

- Like making out: something you had to persuade him into trying but something he is very glad that you showed him.

- Playfully chasing each other in your backyard or around the house. It’s very fun to tease him and then run off as he happily gives chase.

- He likes to pick you up at random; spinning around with you in his arms and swinging you softly.

- He tends to just use your name rather than nicknames or pet names, but when he does use them they’re old fashioned. Things like: dearest, beloved, and darling.

- Cheek kisses.

- Handholding, Hand kisses, playing with your hands, anything having to do with hands just please let him touch your hands like the repressed Puritan that he is.

- He’s touch starved and you can pry that from my cold dead hands. He’s been alone for centuries, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s forgotten how good it feels to be touched.

- Any kind of cuddling is fine by him, as long as he can wrap his arms tight around you. Most of the time, you wind up laying on top of him, head on his chest with his hands tangling through your hair. He’s very good at putting you to sleep like that.

- Waking up to soft kisses or him jolting awake in a cold sweat, calling your name and squeezing you tightly once he sees that you’re still there.

- Comforting him when he thinks about his sister and the life he had to leave behind.

- Getting to hear stories about the world throughout the years. Ever wondered what it was like in the 1800s? Well he’s lived through them, just ask him.

- He’s completely adamant about taking care of you when you get sick. He rushes over to you the instant you seem slightly under the weather, forcing a hand onto your forehead, and asking you a million questions. He’ll refuse to leave your side until you’re completely well again.

- He cannot stand seeing you cry; it tears him apart every time you get misty eyed. He’d do anything to make you feel better, asking if this or that would help or trying to get to the bottom of what's making you so upset.

- Compliments said in such a sincere and serious tone that they make you flustered and unsure of what to say. So, the best kinds of compliments. 

- Buying him some new and different clothes. 

- Want to give him a bath, you temptress? You want to see him in the nude, you meddling seductress? Hmmm? Perhaps he’ll allow it, just this once. 

- God, do you know how flustered he’d get when you have to get changed in front of him? He’d be trying his best to look away and give you privacy yet fighting the urge to peek at you, red in the face and stiff in his place. 

- He really wishes that he could help you with your homework and things of that nature but …what the fuck is calculus and what monster created it. 

- If you place a hand on his face or rub his shoulders, he’ll close his eyes and literally purr in delight. 

- Playing with his hair. He used to let Emily braid and/or tie it for him so it always gives him this melancholic feeling of joy whenever you do it.

- Can you please feed him something. Please, just give him a sandwich. He’s been eating mice all these years; he deserves some good food.

- Your family is definitely going to wonder why the cat is so attached to you. They’ll probably make jokes every time he hops on (only) your lap or completely walks past them to get to you.

- He’s slightly clingy; there’s only so much time when he can be human and hold you like a real man so he never wants to waste a moment when you’re together.

- Ever just want to be greeted with complete enthusiasm when you get home? As and you shall receive! He’ll lunge at you the instant you get step inside; if you have to leave him at home, or pull you into a kiss the moment the door shuts behind the two of you.   

- He loves when you sit on his lap but in that innocent old fashioned lovers sort of way. He usually pulls you onto his thigh whenever you’re sitting and talking, resting his chin on your shoulder while he listens intently. 

- Most of your dates are going to take place inside your house. You can’t exactly go many places besides your home, unless you want to go on a date with a cat. 

- Dates usually consist of just sitting together and talking, watching movies, reading books; things like that. 

- Candlelit hang outs at the Sanderson house. You’re never disturb and don’t have to worry about your parents or anyone else hearing you talk to him. 

- He’s determined to improve his storytelling skills just because you look so adorable hanging on the edge of your seat while listening to the folktales and old town gossip that he knows. 

- You’re definitely going to be roped into the Halloween adventure. He’ll literally just show up on your doorstep with Max, Dani and Allison, and you’ll just think to yourself “dammit new kid”. 

- Sarcasm and passive aggressive comments. They never actually hurt your feelings but they may make you send him a dirty look.

- You get back at him by calling him an adorable little kitty cat and just overall treating him like a pet. It’s very satisfying to see him get all broody as you ruffle his hair and babytalk him. 

- Having to lay down the law. 

“Thackery, you just killed a mouse like thirty minutes ago. I’m not kissing you.”

- He’s incredibly protective of you. After losing Emily and facing the Sanderson sisters, how couldn’t he be?

- Jealousy? He’s had to watch guys hit on you while being in the form of a cat; unable to deter them or prevent them from even approaching you in the first place. Of course he’s gotten jealous before. He does make sure to get his revenge on/chase people away though, jumping on or swiping at people on more than a few occasions.

- He’s definitely tried to get the scoop on your virginity and ex boyfriends by talking about the candle. Like “well maybe you could light the candle and we can just defeat them. Unless~”

- He can get a bit snappy at times so you’ve certainly had some arguments though he rarely stays mad for very long. Usually, he’ll apologize right after and try to use his words instead of just getting upset with you, like he’ll say snap and then say “I’m sorry but x”. 

- He’s a bit paranoid about not saying he loves you enough so he tries to say it as much as he can. He doesn’t want you to ever think that he doesn’t, especially if something happens to either of you.

- The future is certainly not set in stone but you’re hoping to stay by each other’s sides for a long time. Either way, he promises to always be with you. 

[softyoongiionly]

Talk to Me In Korean (NSFW Edition)

Jungkook’s curiosity regarding the dirtier words in English, finally gets the better of him...

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Hello and we’re back with another episode of me repressing my undying love for Jeon Jungkook. 

**ALL ITALICIZED WORDS INDICATE WHEN THE CHARACTERS ARE SPEAKING KOREAN***

Warnings: smut, language, 18+ over only please :)

Two weeks into his break and Jungkook decides that he is the happiest he’s ever been.

The days seemed to drift by carelessly, delicately…

He feels completely at ease in the small but luxurious apartment that the two of you share. Jungkook is a sensitive soul. He’s strong but, encased in a warm glow of tenderness. Since being on break, he’s only further retreated into himself but, in the best way possible. He’s been playing video games, messing about with a new digital art program on his laptop, taking photographs of the view off of your high rise balcony. He’s been singing but only when he’s in the shower, he’s gained a few pounds, stuffing his face whenever he gets the chance but, you’re happy to feed him. You’re happy to see how soft and happy your boyfriend has become. For the first time, you see the furrow between his brows smooth out; he isn’t anxious, he feels no pressure, he feels only happiness.

“Jagiya…where is this…from…?” He struggles a bit over his enormous bite of jasmine rice, “Where is it?”

You smile, admiring the newest addition to your boyfriend’s aesthetic: the floppy hair that is currently dangerously close to getting into his rice bowl.

“The rice? I bought it from the store when we went shopping…”  You remind him gently, using your chopsticks to push the grilled meat around your bowl.

“Yesterday?” He verifies, eyes wide for approval at his pronunciation, his cheeks puffed up and full of rice.

A giggle leaves your lips, “Right, we went yesterday.”

He smiles, nodding to himself as he mutters, “We went shopping yesterday. Yahhh jagiya, I’m getting good no?”

His words are muffled by his food as he still hasn’t swallowed his second bite; it causes you to laugh again, your foot nudges his leg, “You’re getting really good, you’re gonna be better than me before you know it…”

He chuckles along with you before his brow furrows, “Nooo, not better than you, you’re the champion. Champion English speaker. Wooo Y/N, she’s number one!”

The exclamation is paired with a raising of one of his fists, his expression dramatic and over the top as he praises your English skills. This only causes you to laugh again, feeling nothing but warmth in the presence of your boyfriend.

“I didn’t have to learn it as recently as you did though, you’re getting better every single day. I’m proud of you…” You point out, smiling and, finishing up the last of your meal, feeling full and satisfied. You had taken some time off of work too, choosing to spend your days learning different recipes and writing various short stories.

“Thank you…” He bows his head slightly, setting his bowl down on the table, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips; he was a sucker for praise. “I want to learn some new…words though…”

A tilt of your head is enough to get his blood pumping at the question he’s about to ask you.

“What words do you want to learn? You know you can always ask me if there’s something you want to know…”

 “I want to learn words…like the ones you say when…” He trails off, feeling his cheeks warm up as he grows slightly nervous, “When we…”

Oh…

Realization comes over you. You know what he’s referring to but, flustering your boyfriend is always an entertaining endeavor.

“When we what?”

You scoot closer to him on the couch as he groans, flopping back against the cushions.

“Yah don’t make me speak…” He complains, his stomach churning when he feels you beside him, your fingers brushing against his thigh. “You know what I mean…”

“Don’t make you speak? How are you going to learn then?” You giggle, gently pinching the inside of his thigh.

Jungkook emits a low playful growl in the base of his throat before his hands secure themselves around your hips, tugging you onto his lap.

A surprised shriek comes from your lips as your hands desperately come out to grip his shoulders. Jungkook’s dark eyes are glinting as he chuckles, leaning in to your mouth.

“When we….” He mumbles, his big hands sliding over your hips, lingering at the top of your ass, “…do sex…”

You resist the urge to giggle at his choice of words; you don’t want to discourage him but, you’re very interested in sated his newfound curiosity.

“When we have sex…” You correct him gently, pecking against his plush mouth.

“Have sex.” He repeats, smiling into your lips, hands wandering to settle over your ass fully. “When we have sex…”

“Good job…” Another kiss is placed to his lips and, it continues on longer than you plan; his mouth is addicting.

“Kissing…we are kissing…” He whispers, he’s still focused but, you’re curious to see how he’ll fair as he settles further into his arousal.

“Right, we’re kissing…” You keep your voice gentle as you run a hand through his long tresses, scratching gently at the base of his neck, “Some people call it making out too…”

His brow furrows, “Making out? We are making out…?” He tries the new phrase, not really enjoying the way it sounds coming out of his mouth.

If he’s being honest, now that you’re in his lap, his interest in the lesson is dwindling slightly but, he has a feeling that this particular lesson is going to offer him the best of both worlds.

“Tilt your head back.” You coo, kissing his cheek.

Jungkook obliges immediately and, you take the time to admire the tan skin of his neck and, the bob of his Adams apple as he tries to control his breathing. After years together, you’ve learned every inch of his body and, you know for a fact that there is a particular sweet spot on his neck that makes him completely melt.

Just below his right ear, at the base his skull, you ghost your lips over the warm skin as you prepare him for the next word, “This is called a love bite…”

Before he can repeat it back to you, you move in and suck the skin gently between your teeth, nibbling and coaxing his flesh until you’re sure you’ve left a mark.

Jungkook winces at the pain but, his hips give him away as they suddenly push up against yours, “Uh….um I like love bites Noona…”

His voice is growing shakier and, you can hear even more of his accent sneaking in.

“I know you do…” You whisper, smirking to yourself as you kiss over the aggravated spot on his neck.

Jungkook smirks too, he likes this game…

“I wish you’d leave my neck decorated all the time Noona…if it wasn’t so provocative, I’d let you…”

Jesus Christ, this boy could be filthy.

“Is that right?” You secure your hips tighter to his, ensuring that both of you are experiencing some level of pressure, though of course it isn’t enough. “You’d let me leave love bites all over your neck? For everyone to see?”

“Mhm…” He hums, eyes closed, lips still curved up in a smirk. A tilt of his head serves as an invitation for you to make a matching mark on the other side of his neck, “They could know…who had me…”

Jungkook didn’t like to share and, with that, he also liked feeling like he belonged to someone. You aren’t the possessive type but, you’d play the part if it makes him harder.

Before you speak again, you attached your mouth to him once more and, as you do, your fingers begin unbuttoning his pajama shirt. His body presses up to keep himself attached to your lips as long as possible, his fingers digging into your ass at the sensation.

Pain makes him dizzy.

As you open his shirt, you’re met with the toned planes of your boyfriend’s body: tan skin, smooth and defined muscles that ripple underneath your touch; he looks like a god. You begin kissing down his neck, keeping your motions slow and gentle, your thumbs smoothing over his erect nipples.

“Nipples…” You inform him, pinching them momentarily, which causes a shaky giggle to erupt from your boyfriends lips.

“Nipples.” He repeats, eyes peeking open to watch you as you descend down his body. “I like when you touch me there Noona…”

“They’re sensitive huh?” You catch his gaze when you move off of his lap to settle between his legs.

Jungkook can’t think properly; seeing you on your knees, your beautiful lips kissing all over his body, if he wasn’t getting hard before, he feels like he’s going to burst out of his boxers at the moment.

“Yeah…sensitive. Feels like-“ He breaths, his head lulling back when he feels you slide your hands up his legs, “Feels like…good.”

Jungkook laughs as his ability to form a coherent sentence continues to dwindle rapidly. His sits up for a moment to pull his shirt off the rest of the way, a light sheen of sweat forming at the back of his neck.

“It feels good?” You check again, placing kisses over his tense tummy, nibbling at the skin right above his waistline.

All he can do is nod, his bottom lip tucking into his mouth, his eyes clouded with lust as they stare down at you.

“Do you know what this is?” You tease, one of your hands, running up the inside of his leg before you squeeze over his throbbing length. The action causes Jungkook to sigh out through his nose, his mouth opening, releasing his lip from its confines.

He shakes his head, “I only know the clinical term…”

Hooking your fingers into his pants, you begin slowly dragging them down his legs, keeping his gaze all the while as you do. Jungkook’s wearing his favorite pair of Balenciaga’s but, the white material is stained slightly at the seam.

“This is your dick…” You whisper, leaning down to ghost your lips over his boxers.

Another deep breath his pulled through his nose as he feels his hips twitch towards your mouth.

“My dick…” He chuckles, and you follow suit, the idea of you teaching him dirty words is rather immature but, neither of you care.

This break is all about learning new things right?

“When you use your mouth on me…what’s that called?” He smirks, his hand sliding through your hair, letting it linger there as he waits for your answer.

“Well…” You begin, taking his question as an opportunity to remove his boxers, leaving him completely naked before you, “there’s a lot of phrases people use…blowjob is a common one, I don’t really like that one though.”

Jungkook looks awfully confused, chuckling at your response, “Blow? But you don’t blow on it Noona…”

The fondness practically erupts in your chest as you giggle, kissing all over his inner thighs, warming him up for what’s about to come.

“Exactly…it’s a stupid term. All of the phrases are pretty vulgar, I usually just say- sucking dick.”

His length twitches as your lips near the base of him; he doesn’t mind that phrase too much, although he still doesn’t feel quite right about it.

“Sucking dick…” He repeats, licking his lips, his heart rate increasing in his chest, “So you…suck dick? You suck my dick?”

You know full well that he’s trying the words out and, trying to figure out their conjugation but, there’s something about hearing dirty words out of your boyfriend’s normally coy mouth that causes your underwear to grow damp.

“Mhm.” You hum, wrapping your fingers around his length before situating your lips over the tip. Tentatively, you lick the precum off of his dick, holding his gaze all the while.

“Are you going to suck my dick Noona?” He practically coos, keeping his voice small and hopeful, licking over his lips again.

There isn’t a need to respond, you’ve been teasing him for quite awhile. Slowly, you take him into your mouth, ensuring that your lips are curled over your teeth.  Jungkook melts into the couch, his mouth opening once again, his jaw going slack as he feels the tingle of pleasure in all ten of his toes.

You’re careful not to overstimulate him as you set a slow and steady pace on his pulsing dick. Your tongue rubs expertly on the underside of his tip, causing a low whimper to bubble past his lips.

Jungkook, like many people, loves getting head but, he literally never asks for it. He feels like it’s too much of a burden despite your best efforts to convince him otherwise. The first time you ever put him in your mouth, he only lasted two minutes before quite literally, cumming all over the place. He’s heard from his hyungs that it feels good but, nothing could have prepared him for the real thing.

Even after all this time, he still feels unprepared.

“Noona…” He breathes, the hand that was resting in your hair is now resting ontop of your head, “I like this a lot…when you suck my-”

He grimaces as the pleasure rushes up from his toes and into his balls, which are tight with the sensations your lips are providing. At this point, your hand has come up to assist your mouth in your endeavor to make Jungkook fall apart.

Your pace is increasing steadily with the rise and fall of his chest and, you take a moment to admire how beautiful your boyfriend looks: unashamed and in pleasure. His long tresses are starting to stick carelessly to his face, his eyes are squeezing shut, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. Jungkook’s naked body, tan and toned, is sprawled out on the couch with reckless abandon; a feat within itself considering how shy and reserved he used to be.

“Noona…I’m getting close…” He warns, eyes fluttering open to catch your gaze. There is a level of desperation in his eyes but, you can tell he isn’t past the point of no return and, given that you’re starting to feel drunk on your own arousal, you make a decision.

“Can Noona teach you one more word before she lets you cum?” You request, lips still lingering on the tip of him.

Eagerly, he nods; Jungkook does whatever you say when the two of you go at it, he prefers it that way, he wants someone to take control.

There’s a ton of dizziness that clouds your brain when you quickly rise to your feet. Keeping his eager gaze, you remove your t-shirt and, sleep shorts from your frame, leaving the two of you completely naked.

Jungkook shakes his head, his dick twitching between legs and, for a moment, you regret the fact that you aren’t still sucking him off.

“Noona…you’re so beautiful.” He whispers, his eyes travelling over every inch of your body, hands reaching towards you eagerly.

All you do is smile, feeling warm at his words before accepting his request and, taking your place back in his lap. Jungkook immediately captures your lips, kissing you slow and tender, returning his hands to your hips.

“What’s the new word Noona?” Jungkooks murmurs into your lips, his hips pressing into yours as he begins to grow impatient with the lack of pleasure.

You smirk into his mouth, still kissing at him whilst your hand moves between the two of you to wrap around his length.

“Do you know where this goes baby?” You counter his question with your own, nudging his nose gently.

He nods, a wry smile on his lips as he nibbles against yours, “Inside?”

The response his cheeky and hopeful, it makes you giggle.

“Inside of where?”

Jungkook groans as he feels the tip of him brush against your entrance; the feeling of your own arousal coating his dick is driving him crazy, “Tell me Noona…tell me where…”

A devilish smirk is on your lips and, right before you answer him, you sink down on him completely:

“My pussy…”

At the feeling of you surrounding his already sensitive length, Jungkook whimpers, tucking his face in your neck as he guides your hips up and down. The sensation of you pulling on him; it’s so tight and so wet, he feels like he’s in heaven. 

He still can’t figure how he got so lucky…

Jungkook curves inside of you just right, its practically unfair. It’s like he was made for you, riding his dick shouldn’t be allowed to feel so good, you never want to get off of him most of the time. Your hands slide up his back, holding him to you, your lips lingering at the side of his head.

When your pace increase he speaks again, his voice weak and raspy.

“I like pussy Noona…” He giggles, feeling delirious as the sensations completely wreck his body, “I like your pussy…”

He corrects himself, wanting to ensure you that the only person he’d ever want on top of him is you. You’re the only one who makes him feel this way.

“Yeah? You like my pussy?” You coo into his ear, nibbling on the shell of it, meeting the increasing pace of his hips.

“I love your pussy Noona…it feels so good on me- ugh…” His proclamation is interrupted by a moan when you move your hips a certain way, the tightness in his balls increasing to an almost uncomfortable level.

Pulling his face out of your neck, you quickly connect your lips with him, using the kiss as a way to ground the two of you, lest you float off into space.

“I wish I didn’t leave you…I wish I had you on me all the time Noona…” He mumbles against your mouth, the pleasure too much for him to focus on his second language, “I’m your good boy right? I make it feel good for you? I make you want to stay forever right?”

As much as you like watching your boyfriend learn new things, hearing him speak sweet nothings in his native language will always overshadow anything else.

“I’ll stay forever…right here…on you, oh god-“ Your reply is cut short as Jungkook increases his hips yet again and, he acts quickly, taking advantage of the moment.

His strong and capable fingers find your swollen clit, which is completely starved for attention, and begins rubbing tender and deliberate circles into the bundle of nerves.

“Noonnaaaa-“ He whines, but his mouth sports a prideful smirk, he knows he’s got you, “Are you going to wet my lap now? Will you do it for me?”

All you manage is a nod, a gasp leaving your lips as you buck into his hand. It’s your turn to tuck your face into his neck, sucking on his heated skin as a way to ground yourself.

“Suck on my neck Noona, bruise it while you finish for me. I’ll wear them out Noona, I don’t care if the cameras see them, they’ll know how good I am for you…they need to know.”

At his words, you loose it, careening over the edge and soaking his lap, exactly as he requested. Jungkook gasps in your ear, fucking up into you so hard it’s blinding the both of you.

“Oh thank you Noona, thank you for finishing on me…thank you…” He shudders as you continue riding him through his release and, soon enough, he can’t take it anymore.

Jungkook untucks your face from his neck, pinning his sweaty forehead against yours, “Can I finish please…please?”

“Yes,” You whisper immediately, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, “Finish for your Noona…”

That’s all he needs for his hips to tense up beneath you, shuddering once again when he lets himself cum inside of you. Jungkook’s fingers dig into your hips as his breath leaves his lips in choppy and uneven pants.

“Thank you Noona…oh my god…” He whines, back to English now, feeling lost in a world of pleasure, kissing all over your neck.

A few more thrusts are needed to help him completely push through his release before he seems to slump back against the couch, taking you with him. Soon enough though, the two of you begin kissing eachother again, taking the time to come back to earth  after your orgasms.

His smiling into your mouth already, he can’t help how good he always feels around you. As cliché as it sounds, he thinks he finally understands what all the fuss is about because, love is pretty fucking great.

“I love you.” Jungkook giggles, rubbing tenderly over the skin of your hips.

“I love you too…”

Eu-pho-ri-a

[cafedanslanuit]

Third time’s the charm || Hawks x Reader

summary; “His amber eyes stayed open the whole time, a tint of sadness in them I was too afraid to ask about. I wish I hadn’t been such a coward. I wish I had squeezed his hand right back.“

notes; manga spoilers up to 271. i decided to switch it up a little and write a reader story in first person. hope you like that <3

I should have known something was going on. Keigo wasn’t the type that would blurt out his feelings; he had years of training to feign who he was to other people. Why had he suddenly been so adamant in letting me know what he thought of me? He was the most respected, likable, and loved hero, even if he wasn’t the number one. He had no obligation in showing his true self and that was something I had accepted a long time ago. So, when in less than twelve hours he told me he loved me no less than two times, I should have been alerted. The mere fact he was talking about feelings should have been my first sign. Fuck, it should have been my only sign.

He had texted me saying he would be coming over in an hour or so. I tried to make myself look more alluring as I waited for him. Even if we had agreed we weren’t a couple but just a couple of friends who cared for each other, there was no harm in fixing my hair and putting on some lipstick if I could see him smile when I opened the door.

But he didn’t smile. Keigo had a stern look when he walked inside my apartment. I offered him some macaroni leftovers and he started pacing around the living room, taking his time every time he found one of my framed pictures. They had been there for years now, so his interest seemed a little sudden to me. The sound of the microwave going off startled him, but he still turned around and met me in the kitchen, where I was pouring a glass of wine for him.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Keigo nodded and began eating the macaroni. I poured myself a glass of wine as well and sat opposite him on the kitchen table. Every question I dared to ask was professionally dodged, making me wonder why he had even bothered to come by. I knew he couldn’t tell me any details about the hero missions he was involved in, but he knew I liked to listen to him when he told me about anecdotes that had happened during patrols.

“How’s the hospital?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the food. I told him about a couple of patients I had seen that morning and, even if he nodded along with my words, I could tell he wasn’t really listening. I let out a long sigh and put my hand on top of his left hand. He finally looked up, making me notice the bags under his eyes looked darker than usual.

“Keigo, what’s wrong?”

The man paused for a moment, his lips parting for a second before they closed again. He left the fork on the plate and delicately patted his mouth with the napkin I had left on the table. Keigo pulled away with his chair and patted his thighs. Accepting his invitation, I walked to him and sat on his lap, my arms circling around his neck. He kissed my shoulder as he hugged my waist, holding me even closer to him. I figured he couldn’t really share details about what had happened that day. I thought I was doing the right thing by giving him space and respecting his work as a hero. I should have insisted. I should have asked him again. I shouldn’t have ended the conversation there.

We made love that night. And it wasn’t a euphemism. We had been fucking around for more than a year, but that night felt different. There were not dominant positions, no hair pulling, no marks on his skin or mine, like there usually were. He lay between my thighs, his right hand making sure my left leg was hooked around his waist. For the first time, he kept his eyes locked in mine. Not used to that, I tried pulling him in for a kiss, but he caught my hand and set it on the bed near my head, his hand resting on top of it. As his thrusts became faster, I felt how he intertwined his fingers with mine. His amber eyes stayed open the whole time, a tint of sadness in them I was too afraid to ask about. I wish I hadn’t been such a coward. I wish I had squeezed his hand right back.

That night was also the first time we came together. Neither of us was planning on it, but when I was coming down from my high, I felt him twitching inside of me, making me realize he had just come as well. Keigo buried his face on the crook of my neck and whimpered, his lips grazing my skin.

“I love you” he panted, his voice broken. I stayed in silence, waiting for a punchline that never came. I furrowed his eyebrows, asking myself if I had heard correctly. Was his confession a product of the heat of the moment? Was he already regretting saying that out loud? Most importantly, did I love him back? I hadn’t dared to ask myself that question out of fear of it being true. If I was in love with Takami Keigo, the man with whom I agreed to a friendship with benefits, I would probably lose him for good. He had been very clear about how dangerous his work was and how he couldn’t have any relationships that could endanger the other person and also be used against him.

All the feelings I had stored in the highest and most unreachable part of my mind had fallen down and I didn’t know what to do with them. I didn’t even know if I should do something with them. I had always known our relationship was more than just sex. There were times when he would come over and we would just order food, watch a movie and fall asleep on top of each other. We deeply cared for one another, or at least I felt we did. I had calmed him down from nightmares he wouldn’t talk about, but just silently cry on my chest and he would listen whenever stress from the hospital and exhaustion took their toll and broke me into a mess of tears. Even then, I had never dared to revisit the feelings I had pushed away the day he proposed we took our friendship to the next level. But now, they were all falling down on me and they had apparently grown stronger as I had ignored them over the last year.

I must have tensed up without realizing because Keigo squeezed my hand gently and chuckled against my skin.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said and I nodded underneath him. We fell asleep shortly after that, with him still buried inside me, his wings covering both our bodies from the cold.

The next morning, I was turning the coffee maker off when Keigo emerged from the bedroom, already dressed up. I greeted him with a smile and he shot a playful remark back, even if his aura still felt a little off. His messy hair made me remember how young he really was, in spite of all the weight he constantly had on his shoulders. He sat on the kitchen table and ruffled his hair, letting out a yawn. I poured myself a cup of coffee and then leaned on the counter, looking at him.

“So, about last night…” I started, nervously looking at the cup between my hands. Keigo laughed, the tone of his voice feeling much more homely than ever.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, a mischievous smile on his lips. I shook my head.

“No, no, that’s not it. I just… I’m sorry about what happened. I was surprised and didn’t know what to say. But… I wish we could talk about that now”.

“I’d like that, dove,” he said, crooking his head to the side. “But I gotta leave in ten”.

“You’re not staying for breakfast?”

“Can’t do. Duty calls” Keigo shrugged, stretching his arms upwards and successfully cracking his joints.

“So… tonight, maybe?” I insisted. He looked at me, that sad smile once again on his face.

Keigo stood up and walked towards me. He grabbed the cup I was holding and left it aside. His expression had gone back to the one he had the night before, a million words trapped inside his mind with no way out. 

“Okay” he breathed out. “I’ll see you tonight”. Keigo bit his bottom lip and held my head between his hands, his thumbs resting on my cheeks. He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes tightly shut.

“Keigo, what…?”

“I love you”

This time, I was way more confident about my answer. I couldn’t even repress the smile that crept on my lips. Somehow, his words had caused an even stronger reaction in me than the last time. I let out a breathy laugh, my arms finding their way around his torso. I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, he put two fingers over it, silencing me.

“Tonight,” Keigo said, his eyes looking straight into mine. “I’ll bring dinner and we’ll talk, okay?”

I let out a heavy sigh and reluctantly nodded. “Fine,” I said, taking his hand off my mouth. Keigo flashed one of his playful smiles.

“They say third time’s the charm, dove,” he cheekily grinned, winking at me. I rolled my eyes and let him go.

As I think of him now, I can still see Keigo closing the door behind him. I should have noticed he was wearing one of his TV smiles. I should have stopped him, kissed him, hit him, I don’t know. I shouldn’t have let him go without saying I loved him back.

That night never came. That night was filled with doctors barking orders, nurses running around, everybody trying to save as many heroes as they could. The war had been the greatest tragedy the hospital I worked for had ever seen. Every gurney in the hospital was being used by injured heroes and civilians, the smell of death present each time I turned the corner.

When the hospital called me, I was already on my way. I had just put the chicken in the oven when I grabbed my phone and decided to go through my feed. I didn’t need to scroll far to see news reports about the war that was happening between villains and a great number of heroes. They said they were The Liberation Army, but I hadn’t heard about them before. I quickly turned the TV on, just in time to see Endeavor lying on the ground as a villain raised his fist on top of him. There was no news on Hero Number Two Hawks. I saw heroes that looked old enough to still be in school fighting and I couldn’t help but think of Keigo and his lost childhood due to his hero training. I quickly turned the oven off and grabbed my keys before running to the hospital.

No news is good news, I repeated to myself silently as I stabilized a hero’s broken leg. No news is good news.

No one knew Keigo was more than a friend to me. Hell, no one even knew we were friends at all, which meant no one was going to let me know if the had found him and how badly hurt he was. When I finished my shift, it took a long time before I could find him. I had to ask around without raising suspicion, just in case I ended up endangering him even more. After a couple of hours, a nurse confessed he had seen Hawks being taken to an OR but hadn’t seen him after that. After a quick review of the OR chart, I managed to find his hospital room, far from the other patients that were also recovering from the war.

Keigo’s room was guarded by two tall men I figured were sent by the Hero Public Safety Commission. I lied about being sent to take his vitals and after showing them my hospital ID, they let me inside. The soft beep of the machines hooked to his body was the only noise in the room. His eyes were closed and half his face was covered with gauze. I grazed his fingertips with my own, the only part of his arms that wasn’t covered by bandages. His wings were gone, but a part of my brain kept screaming I needed to lay him on his side because he always hated how uncomfortable it felt when he lay on his back. I bit my lip trying to calm myself down and took a look at his chart that was resting on his nightstand. Keigo was in a medically induced coma. He was stable, but the nerve damage he had received on his wings was disheartening. Also, the massive burns all over his body made his healing process even more difficult. I reviewed the work done by the other doctors; even if I knew due to his status his case must be directly supervised by the head of Trauma, the best one in Japan. Just like I thought, they had already done everything they could to save his life. Now all that was left to do was wait.

“Keigo” I whispered, as I pretended to take notes from the screen of the machine in case the guards were looking through the small window on the door. If there was a small chance he could listen to me, I was going to take it. I didn’t know when I would get to see him again. I quickly wiped the tear that fell down my cheek and took a deep breath. “You said third time’s the charm... I’ll be here, then”.

[theentiregdtime]

it’s you.

Mac isn’t sure how he ruined sex, but he definitely ruined it. Somehow, he ruined it, and he’s so, so pissed at himself.

It hadn’t even really been sex yet at all, but it was still the best thing that ever happened to him. Holy shit, give him the pearly gates, give him a black belt from Jet Li, give him a Project Badass full-length film with a twelve-bus motorcycle jump…

There was no better feeling, even in his craziest daydreams, than having Dennis underneath him in bed- not undressed, not clutching the sheets and screaming, not banging against the headboard- but shifting softly and running his hands along Mac’s shoulders and laughing in disbelief, breath hitching, eyelashes fluttering, clothes crinkling, folding into him like a paper crane.

Then he’d suddenly gone still. His eyes had glazed over, like he was falling to his death and watching his entire life flash before him, and it was different than he remembered it. Mac’s first instinct had been that Dennis was panicking, until his gaze came back into focus and locked with his, and he whispered “Oh, shit” with all the clarity in the world.

And then Mac didn’t know what was wrong.

He’d hovered over Dennis and waited, searching his face for an answer and catching nothing but the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. He looked like the first person on Earth. He looked like Jesus Christ nailed to the sheets. He looked like a chiseled Roman statue frozen in marble.

Mac wanted his hands back on him, to kiss his bottom lip as it hung open, to pull him back from whatever cliff he was standing on the edge of in that moment.

“What?” he’d asked, tentatively, instead.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to do this, Mac had considered. Maybe being with a guy for real was too much and too sudden. Maybe whatever he’d repressed over the last forty-something years was clawing its way back up to strangle him. Mac had firsthand experience with that. He knew what it looked like and he knew what it felt like.

Then Dennis let out a shaking breath and said, “It’s you.”

That was what Mac was afraid of.

It wasn’t that he was a guy, or that he was moving too fast or too rough, or anything he could pinpoint at all. It was that he was… well, him- and he wasn’t good enough.

Part of him had already known that, had even practiced for this outcome, and another, more naive part of him thought maybe that had changed. He thought Dennis wanted him now.

But he didn’t.

He could get past the fact that Mac was a man, but not that he was… Mac.

Before he could say anything, Dennis was already slipping out from underneath him like honey through a fork. He’d said he needed to get some air, and then he was pulling a hoodie over his shoulders and shutting the bedroom door behind him.

Mac collapsed into bed, bounced against the mattress, and groaned into the pillow. He didn’t feel like following Dennis. He didn’t know what he’d say when he caught up to him, anyways. It was tiring to keep chasing him all the time.

So instead, he’d waited there, for five minutes which turned into ten which turned into forty-five.

And here is now, flat on his back, hands folded over his stomach, lying in deafening silence and studying the ceiling like it’s the roof of his casket.

He doesn’t know how to ask God for something he’s not sure he’s supposed to want, so he stays quiet.

It was almost easier to be confused, to have the storm raging outside the window, out of the corner of his eye, and stay sheltered- but now he’s out of the closet and he’s out in the rain, and he’s not confused anymore, not about anything, and he knows he loves Dennis. He knows it more than he knows he loves God, because neither of them are in this room right now, and he knows which one he’d want to walk in the door if he had to make a choice.

Before the anxious thoughts bouncing around Mac’s head can drive him completely stir-crazy, he hears the door to the apartment open and shut.

He sits up like an expectant dog who’s been alone with the radio all day, anticipating the doorknob turning any second.

A minute passes and it doesn’t. He hears Dennis adjust something on the couch. Five more minutes pass and it still doesn’t turn, and Mac can hear Dennis singing to himself. His voice is smooth like he’s been drinking, and Mac doesn’t recognize the song, but he makes out the words right down the line it’s been you and me.

He doesn’t really seem angry, and if he still wanted to be alone, he wouldn’t have come back…

Mac decides to roll off the mattress and investigate.

The only light in the living room is a dim lamp and the moon streaming in, and the only sound is Dennis humming in his throat as he flips through a scrapbook. Mac isn’t sure why he fished that out- it’s been gathering dust on the shelf for years.

Mac approaches him like he’s walking into a tiger cage wearing a jumpsuit made of ground chuck.

“Hey, Dennis…” he sing-songs, folding his hands together nervously.

Dennis stops humming and shuts the book. He sets it on the coffee table beside an emptied hip flask. 

“Hey.”

Mac glances to the toppled-over container, then back to Dennis. He doesn’t know how much he’s had to drink, but he can smell the whiskey coming off of him in waves.

“What are you doing?”

Dennis fixes his gaze on the closed book as if he’s still staring longingly at the pictures inside of it. He clears his throat.

“Was looking for something,” he mumbles.

Mac hopes he wasn’t having that crisis about aging and the passage of time and fleeting beauty and all that shit again. He goes through that once or twice a month, and Mac telling him he’s fine and he looks great is never enough to calm his existential dread.

“Did you find it?” is all he can think to ask.

Dennis’ eyes are on him again. He looks like he did earlier, but a little drunker, a little softer, a little more vulnerable. He looks less afraid.

He looks so, so young to Mac. He looks like he did the day they met. He looks like the past twenty years and he looks like the next twenty and he looks like forever until the end of time.

“Yeah,” he answers.

Mac doesn’t know what to do with himself, because Dennis might have changed his mind about him, about them. He might not want to be touched anymore. So he just stands there in front of the sofa, breath baited, fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey, I totally ruined the moment, man,” Dennis slurs. “M’sorry.”

“No, Den, you don’t have to apologize,” Mac insists and holds his hands out in front of him. “I get it, you changed your mind, we can just go back to-”

“No, shit, no, Mac,” Dennis cuts him off, cringing. He seems surprised that Mac would be willing to drop all of this in a heartbeat to make him comfortable again. “I just… needed to think about some stuff.”

Unclear as it is, the response is still relieving. Mac doesn’t know what Dennis wants, but it kind of seems like he might still want this. He takes that as an invitation to sit on the table across from him and silently pray it doesn’t break under his weight.

“So…” -he drags the word out- “did you?”

Dennis shakes his head, avoiding Mac’s face and choosing to make conversation with his knees instead.

“Nah. Mostly just walked around and got drunk… watched people…” He shrugs. “I guess I realized there was nothing to figure out.”

Mac has no idea what that means- if it’s good or if it’s bad- or what he’s supposed to be doing with himself right now. Before he has to figure it out, Dennis reaches for him and brushes his knuckles against his leg.

“You can uh…” -he swallows and licks over his bottom lip- “come back.”

Embers of cautious excitement start to rise up from the bottom of Mac’s stomach.

“You want me to?” It’s a pointless question, but he still feels like he needs to ask permission- for sure.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Like, you want-”

“Mac.”

He doesn’t need to ask again.

Mac falls into Dennis like he’s been doing all his life and plants his hands on his waist, strong enough to keep him there, but gentle enough that he can go if he changes his mind. Their lips connect and Dennis tastes like maple whiskey and smells like burning oak and he’s so fucking beautiful. Mac worries he’s not enough again, feels awkward and wrong, like he’s somewhere he doesn’t belong, until Dennis threads his hands through his hair and whines in the back of his throat, and Mac knows he belongs right here chasing that sound with his tongue.

He doesn’t want to be anywhere else. Even if he’s not enough- even if he’s never enough his whole life- he’d rather be insufficient for Dennis than be somebody else’s entire world.

Dennis plants a few small kisses along Mac’s lips and whispers against his mouth, “It’s been a long time.” His breath is like burnt vanilla sugar and he’s everything.

“You were gone, like, an hour,” Mac replies, and he intends it to sound how it felt- like a goddamn eternity- but it comes out all wrong.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Before Mac can figure out what he does mean, their lips are crashing together again and he doesn’t give a shit. Dennis’ hands slide up his shoulder blades and draw him in, between his legs that part like butterfly wings to make space for him.

He digs one of his hands into the back of Mac’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pressing his knuckles into him like he doesn’t want him to go. He’s not going to go anywhere, he swears he’s never going to fucking go anywhere as he clasps Dennis’ jaw and kisses him with the fury of a thousand suns. If it’s too rough or their teeth clash too hard, Dennis doesn’t protest, just responds with a soft sigh that Mac can feel hot against his face. It’s the only sound in the room other than the smacking of their lips, and it fills the whole apartment and Mac’s whole world.

He lets his eyes flutter open for a second and catches the sight of Dennis’ face in his hands, wrinkling faintly at the edges, calm and tender and fragile, and it’s the closest thing to God he’s ever seen.

He shuts them again and he’s kissing Dennis every time he should have kissed him- in high school under the bleachers with a lit cigarette in his hand, in the bed of his college dorm over winter break, on the floor of their empty apartment next to a pile of unopened boxes, in a booth strewn with paperwork on their first night in the bar, using the salt on his lips as the chaser to a shot of tequila, on a day he never moved out, on the night of a wedding Dennis never had, on the evening of a monthly dinner they can both call a date out loud. He’s kissing him in a hotel bed with the curtains open to a view of the beach below, kissing him at the bottom of the ocean hand-in-hand, kissing him over a crate missing ammo that doesn’t matter because it’s enough to know that he knows him and maybe he tells him he loves him instead. He’s kissing him every day of their lives together, every time he wants to, every time he ever wanted to, and they’re young and growing older, but still so young and still the same as they’ve always been.

Mac doesn’t know how it took him all this time to realize it was always Dennis. He thinks if he’d been at peace with his sexuality, his religion, himself… he would have known it all along. It would have always been there. It was always there- he just didn’t want to look too closely at it. Now he can’t look away from it. It’s bright and blinding and it’s been raging all his life, ever since the first day they met.

Mac pulls away and they both take a much-needed breath.

“I get it now.”

Dennis watches him expectantly, like he’s wondering how he got so far away. “Get what?”

An epiphanous chuckle escapes Mac’s lips and swells into full, breathy laughter. Dennis’ brow knots together and his expression twists like he’s not sure what he did that was so goddamn funny, and he doesn’t know if he should be offended or not.

“It’s you.”

Mac’s hands fall to Dennis’ shoulders to latch on to them.

“It’s you, man,” he repeats.

Dennis nods and rakes his tongue over his lips. He seems to know exactly what that means. “Yeah.”

Mac sits back against the table. He keeps a hand on Dennis’ leg to let him know he’s still there and strokes shapes into the denim of his jeans with his fingertips.

“Is it, like… weird?”

He doesn’t want to ask that, doesn’t want to put the idea of it in Dennis’ head- but he asks anyways, because if it is, he wants to know. He thinks he can keep waiting a little longer if he has to, a couple more weeks or a couple more years or the rest of their lives. It’s no big deal, he convinces himself.

Dennis’ eyes scan everything in the apartment except Mac. They fall on the front door, the game of checkers strewn across the kitchen table, the bookshelves full of shit they never read, the ancient box TV with the Hulk fist sat atop it, the pile of DVDs strewn on the floor, the scrapbook on the edge of the coffee table…

“Been weird for a long time, Mac.”

He doesn’t know how to take that, and Dennis won’t look at him to give him any clues. He’s just sitting there, glass-eyed, watching the photo album like it might disappear if he doesn’t. 

Mac wonders why Dennis isn’t watching him that way. He knows he has to look better now than he did in those old, poorly-lit photos of them poring over confusing papers and sharing their first official beer in Paddy’s Pub. Maybe Dennis liked him better then, loved him then; but ignorant, rage-fueled, repressed Mac was too insecure and confused to see it or even entertain the idea of it. Maybe he and Dennis were always passing like ships in the night, but never colliding, because struggling to keep breathing the air was simpler than admitting they both wanted to drown, both wanted something they weren’t supposed to want.

Maybe this has all been about Dennis settling as he gets older and lonelier, because they’re already living as if they’re married, so he may as well get something out of it. Maybe it’s about saving face and giving off the illusion that he’s gotten his life together and done the things people are supposed to do. Maybe Mac is a last resort. Maybe he’s the best of a shitty situation.

“I’m trying,” he chokes out as he clutches Dennis’ leg like a life preserver. “I’m trying to make you happy, man. I know I’m not… enough… but I want to be.”

Dennis’ eyes dart up and bore straight into Mac’s skull. His lips fall open and they look so lonely that it takes all of Mac’s willpower not to slot them right in between his own.

“Not enough?”

Dennis draws a ragged breath.

“You’re too much.” He looks around the dark apartment again, like the past twenty years are playing on a loop in his head, until his eyes land on the empty space between them. “You’re everything.”

It’s muddled, but Mac knows what he hears. Dennis gets like this when he’s drunk on whiskey, all sappy and weak and saying things he doesn’t really mean. Mac hopes he means this one, this time.

Dennis is everything, too. He’s the kid he sold weed to in high school, he’s his best friend, he’s his roommate, he’s his business partner, he’s his blood brother, he’s the fucking love of his life. He’s constant. He’s always been there. Even if he wasn’t right in the middle of a moment in Mac’s life, he was still there, in the back of his mind or just out of sight.

How can two people live like that for more than twenty years? How can two people be so deeply melted into each other’s lives that they’re the same life and not know what they are? How long can they hold their breath before they have to gasp for air? How long can they keep their eyes glued shut before they have to peel them open? How long can two lines be drawn around each other until they cross?

Dennis looks back up at him, desperate, like he needs a response now, and fuck, Mac doesn’t know how to respond.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I always loved you and I can’t believe it took this long for me to figure out what those words meant.

He doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he wraps secure arms around Dennis’ waist and pulls them together again. He’s kissing him, but Dennis isn’t kissing back, not right away, so Mac meets his shaking mouth over and over and again and again, until Dennis tilts his head and threads a hand around his neck and comes back to life all at once.

Mac brushes his fingers over the stomach of Dennis’ hoodie and gets a grunt in reply. Before he can worry it’s a stop that noise, Dennis is tugging the zipper down, pulling it so hard that it snaps at the end. Mac doesn’t waste a second gliding his hands across Dennis’ stomach, over the thin fabric of his t-shirt, feeling him buckle and shudder underneath them. He slips his arms under Dennis’ hoodie and around him, and Dennis grabs at Mac’s shoulders and arches up, letting himself be suspended by nothing but Mac’s hands like a pieta statue, and then they’re crumbling on to the couch, falling around each other, falling into each other.

Dennis is on his back and Mac is hovering over him, and they feel too far apart, until Dennis spreads his legs and makes room for Mac between them, clutching desperately at the collar of his shirt and mangling it in his narrow fingers. Mac presses flush against him and combs his tongue along the roof of his mouth. He doesn’t want any more distance, he doesn’t want a fucking inch of empty space. He’s so goddamn tired of loving someone from across the room, from the other side of the door, from miles and miles away, from the Mamertine prison he put himself in for so many years. He wants to be here. He doesn’t care where he goes when he dies, he just wants to be right here while he’s alive, at the nave of their apartment, across the pew of their sofa, crossing the threshold of the rest of his life with his best friend pinned beneath him. Dennis Reynolds is the whole world, and if God made him so fucking beautiful, then how is Mac not supposed to love him?

He slides an arm under Dennis’ shirt and curls it around his back, pulling him up into him, receiving a fragile whine in return. His skin is so warm and his mouth is so bourbon-glossed that everything about him burns holy. The sharp edge of his shoulder is like a stigmata through Mac’s palm. He feels so small and so vulnerable, like he could be broken between two fingers, and Mac doesn’t know why he never realized that before. Maybe it’s because Dennis always seemed so big to him, bleeding into every corner of his life and filling all of the empty space. He’s so damn delicate, but he’s everything, all at once.

He ruts against him and Dennis buckles with a strangled groan that warms Mac’s blood over. He pushes back harder and scrapes his fingernails along Mac’s skin. It stings, and he likes that it stings. He wants the marks all across his back like whip lashes. Dennis starts to nudge his shirt up, and Mac hates to pull away, but uses the opportunity to take a few panting breaths as he rolls his tee over his head and tosses it to the floor.

When he ducks back in, Dennis halts him with hands against his jaw. He drags his tongue up Mac’s lips- warm and slick and syrupy. Mac ignites from the inside out. He’s never felt anything like the fire that starts in his stomach and spreads to his whole body and makes him feel like a collapsing star.

He sits up on his knees and Dennis follows him, kisses him a hundred times on the way up. Mac slips the sweatshirt off his shoulders and lets it fall where it lands. When Dennis starts to rip his shirt off, Mac stops him and pulls the neck of it down to plant kisses along his collar bone and up into the crook of his neck, over and over again until he’s wet with spit. Dennis grabs the back of Mac’s head and wraps his legs around him as Mac traces the line of his clavicle with his tongue. Every sharp, jagged angle of him is so perfect that Mac doesn’t mind the talons ripping into his hair or the bony knees pestling into his sides. He wants all of it. He wants everything.

Mac lifts his head and Dennis is on him first, cupping his face and smacking closed-mouth pecks against his lips again and again and what feels like a thousand times. Mac prays it is as his hands fall back to Dennis’ hips. He prays these are the first thousand of a lifetime’s worth of kissing. Mac could die like this and he’d be happy to go.

Dennis takes a ragged, hitching breath, and Mac doesn’t realize he’s completely motionless until he hears a strangled sob and tastes salt against his lips.

Mac immediately goes into panic mode. No, oh no, oh shit, I messed up is endlessly repeating in his mind. He doesn’t know what he did to upset him, but he draws back all at once. He’s far enough away to see Dennis gaping wide-eyed at him, tears streaming down his face and breath stuttering in and out. Mac doesn’t know how long he’s had his eyes open. 

“Fuck, Dennis, are you crying…?”

It’s a dumb question. Of course he is; it’s just that Mac hasn’t seen him like that in so long, he’s forgotten what it even looks like. This isn’t exactly the best time for a reminder- it feels like a punch to the gut.

“It’s you and me. It’s really you and me.”

Oh.

Yeah. It’s really them.

Mac and Dennis.

On the couch where they’ve watched the same six movies every night for the past two decades- the couch where they tossed popcorn at each other and tried to catch it in their mouths just to end up losing it in the cushions- the couch where they tangled their legs together under warm blankets and pretended it was accidental when they fell asleep together- the couch where they’ve spent the last twenty years of their friendship. It’s all changed now. Everything has shifted and they’re half-undressed, wrapped around one another, touching and making out and being honest for the first time in their entire lives.

It’s a lot to think about, but at the same time, it’s the easiest thing Mac’s ever done. There’s nothing to think about. It’s fucking crazy and impossible, but it’s so obvious and so, so effortless.

Dennis Reynolds is still his best friend, and his blood brother, and his business partner, and everything he’s always been to him. This whole boyfriend thing is just another title to add to the list.

“Of course it is, man,” Mac chuckles as he wipes a tear away with his thumb. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Dennis grazes his teeth over his lip, eyes dipping down to the negative space between their bodies. “It’s… pretty cool,” he murmurs.

Mac knows he shouldn’t, but he laughs. “Yeah. It is.”

Neither of them says anything for a while. Mac strokes his thumb along Dennis’ cheek, touching him feather-light as if they weren’t grinding hard enough against each other to spark a fire a few minutes ago.

“I ruined it,” Dennis finally says, and a smirk forms at the edges of his mouth. “I ruined sex.”

“Yeah, you did, a little bit.”

He grumbles and rubs at his forehead, falling back onto the couch with all the grace of a dying cockroach. His hand stays over his face for a long time.

“This isn’t what I thought it would be like.”

Mac’s heart drops out of his chest, and suddenly, they’re back where they were an hour ago- Dennis recoiling into himself and Mac scared he’s going to be inadequate forever.

“What…” he starts, contemplating every word, afraid reaching out and touching Dennis might set off a landmine. “What did you think it’d be like?”

Dennis half-growls, half-whines again, and pinches the bridge of his nose like he does when he’s got a migraine forming.

“Thought I’d feel powerful, y’know- like I usually do. Thought I’d be all controlling and sexy and it’d be like I was doing you a favor by finally fucking you.” He drops his hand and meets Mac’s gaze, the corners of his eyes still red and his mouth tragically drying. “But it’s not… it’s not like that.”

That’s not enough of an explanation for Mac. It’s not the whole answer.

“What… What is it like?”

Dennis shrugs his shoulders. “You know what it’s like,” he says under his breath. “It’s like falling off a cliff. There’s no way to feel powerful. There’s no control. You just fall.”

Yeah, I know, Mac wants to respond but doesn’t, I’ve been falling for twenty years.

“You didn’t like it?” comes out instead.

Dennis cackles like it’s moronic.

“No, I… I liked it, Mac.” His eyes drop to Mac’s thigh as he traces his fingers along it. “Loved it.”

A grin creeps onto Mac’s face, and he knows he’s making those big, dumb doe eyes like he always does when he’s cautiously excited, but he doesn’t know how to stop it.

“I loved it, too.”

Dennis looks back at him with the ghost of a smile.

It’s thinly-veiled, but it’s easier than making things any sappier tonight, even if no one’s around to hear it or make fun of them for it, even if Dennis will probably forget half of this when he’s sober and hung over in the morning.

Mac settles in the space next to him with a content sigh.

When Dennis sniffles and speaks again, it comes out thick, like the bourbon-binge tiredness is finally starting to seep in. “I know I killed the moment, but we could still…”

“Nah,” Mac interrupts and drapes an arm across Dennis’ chest to play with his hair. He pushes a lock of his bangs up off of his wet forehead. “There’ll be lots of moments, dude. We’ll try again. Over and over again until we get it right.”

When he thinks about how many of those moments they wasted when they could have been like this, always been like this, been high school sweethearts and gone to prom together and moved in with each other and spent their whole lives together… it seems stupid that they didn’t think of it sooner.

In some way, though, they did do all those things- just without saying what it meant out loud. Plus, there wasn’t as much kissing as there could have been.

Oh, well. They’ll make up for it. They’ve still got plenty of time left.

[erideights]

Through history to get to you. (1)

Request by @adela-topaz-caelon : Reader's an angel casted out of heaven because, well, she's weird. She's in love with Crowley and, of course Crowley is in love with her. Our poor Aziraphale is just fucking tired of seeing how neither of them realize the feelings of the other.

Part two: here

Pairing: Crowley x Angel!Reader (Good Omens)

Word Count: 3215.

Warnings: none.

A/N: I'm sorry, I didn't wanna make this request in two parts but I was having inspiration problems and... Well. I'll post the second part tomorrow, by the way. I hope you guys like this!

4004 B.C., the day that every christian remembers as the moment when everything went wrong,— when God expelled humanity from paradise and condemned them to an unhappy existence for the rest of their days because Eve bit the forbidden apple and escaped with Adam from the Garden of Eden; yeah, that day—, an angel and a demon were chatting for the first time in their lives, both standing on the top of the east gate wall of that cage of life that the first two humans in history left behind.

They were not friends, oh no, quite the opposite, they were hereditary enemies, but even so, they shared their existential concerns in a calm, friendly tone, typical of those who have known each other for a lifetime.

But they hadn’t know each other 10 minutes ago.

Meanwhile, another of the so many of the angels of Heaven, one expelled from it by her disturbing peculiarities but not bad enough —or so God considered it— to make her fall to Hell, observed from the north gate how his winged companion gave refuge to the vile demon of the first rain fallen on earth, and before she could realize it, she smiled.

Her corners rose in a sweet and tender expression before even being able to stop to think what it meant something like that, holy rain falling on her face, her clothes and her own wings, soaking every inch of her being until there was not a single dry hair.

Y/N was, indeed, peculiar, her way of seeing the world was completely out of tune with the rest of the cold, calculating, maniac and, in a summary, good soldiers of God who didn’t question absolutely anything that is ordered.

She must have fallen with the others, many thought, but she didn’t.

Instead, and because of the obvious discomfort that the playful angel caused in others, God simply and subtly banished her from Heaven, assuring her that her mission on Earth, guarding the North Gate of the Garden of Eden, was much more important than anything else she could do up there.

And that was the last thing God ever told her.

But she couldn’t care less, in fact, she was happy with her fate; she knew that wasn’t her place, anyway. She always knew.

''Hey, Aziraphale.'' Y/N greeted with a melodious tinkle in her voice, appearing out of nowhere and successfully scaring her co-worker. A sweet laugh then echoed in the girl's throat, whose wings swayed with the gentle breeze that ran up there.

''Y-Y/N, please,'' the blond platinum angel begged, right hand positioned over his left lung. ''You need to stop doing that to me because one day my heart won’t be able to take it anymore and the heart attack will send me right back to Heaven. Do you have any idea how much paperwork would be done? Uncountable.''

During his reprimand, the girl watched her colleague with a devilish smirk in her lips, enjoying every word of the dramatic attacks suffered by the former bearer of the flaming sword. But her eyes, inevitably and within a few seconds, went to a specific point on the ground, back to the garden, not too far from the apple tree and there they remained much longer than she would have thought, feeling how her attention was slowly fading away and the voice of the angel deafened with each second of the clock.

As expected, Aziraphale noticed this, but before he could ask out loud, Y/N beated him to it: ‘’Who was him?’’

Him? Was she talking about...?

‘’Crawly’’ he answered, knowing that lying to his extroverted companion was totally useless; she wouldn’t stop until she got the answers she wanted. Anyway, in his voice could be felt a bit of anxiety for that same matter. ‘’A demon.’’

''Oh, well'' her answer was immediate and without thinking, very typical when talking with Y/N. ''He's hot.''

41 AD, soft music enveloped a crowded tavern in some corner of the large and great Rome, warm weather, pleasant atmosphere and its people dressed in sleeveless tunics in pale ochre, white, or cinnamon tones.

Or at least most of them.

Then there she was, sitting on a low wooden bench next to a table not much taller than it, its surface occupied by a distant predecessor of the chess whose pieces consisted of stones and board on a sheet of brown leather.

She wore the typical and loose roman dress, barely fitted in her chest and waist by two thin bands that held the soft textile against her body, but it was in a eye-catching green color, making her stand out —inevitably— from the others.

In addition, her long hair was braided into a hairstyle that resembled one of the many sculptures that capture beautiful goddesses or nymphs of the mythology they so venerated, making her impossible to avoid in the eyes of the others; she was beautiful.

Perhaps the attention of many others was placed on her, a star that seemed to shine with its own light, but she didn’t notice it, her big eyes watching carefully the funny expressions Aziraphale adopted in his face while he decided what his next move would be, and it wasn’t until her friend's attention was scattered, stolen elsewhere —some point behind her— that  for the first time, the girl turned around to see.

Sitting on a stool, he was leaning slightly on the bar that separated the woman who attended the inn and the rest of the clients, his voice loud and clear, asking for anything that could be drunk. His body was covered by the typical clothing for men in that time, a tunic that reached to the ground and a horizontal piece held by a golden pin on his left shoulder, but like her, the black color he wore made him stand out from any of the others in the room.

Y/N found herself holding her breath; It was him.

She couldn’t believe she was seeing him again, not after 4,000 years since that day in the garden.

Aziraphale, who since his escape from Eden had spent a considerable amount of time with her, had dropped in some occasions, when both were reunited again after some of the many adventures that the woman liked to live on her own, that he met by chance the —for her— attractive demon, and in each and every one of these times, without missing, Y/N sighed abstracted, assuring her friend that she envied him so much.

It was stupid! A nonsense, feeling her heart beating faster inside her chest when she hadn’t even spoken to him once, when she hadn’t seen the color of his eyes or feel his voice reaching her ears, but the vague memory of the fallen angel on the wall of the garden knocked at her door some nights, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like.

But that was how she was, an angel repudiated by her insatiable curiosity and her uncontrollable range of emotions that, for nothing in the world, she tried to repress or hide from anyone.

So, as expected, Aziraphale, with a small smile on his lips and feeling soft by her friend's attitude —although he didn’t understand it and, at times, even scared him because, for God's sake, he was a demon!— he realized instantly what was happening. "Do you want to come with me to say hello?" He asked in that tone of voice that he used to use when he was with her, full of love and understanding, of empathy and affection for an angel like her. ''I could, I don’t know, introduce you to him'' Aziraphale suggested right away, believing that such an idea would excite her to no end.

'’What?'' Y/N's head spinned so fast it was hard to believe she hadn’t hurt her neck in the process, and even though there was no blush on her cheeks, her expression, her eyes, left to see how nervous a scenario like that made her be. ''No no no no. What would I say? I can’t do it.'’

One could believe a celestial being like her, given her history and extrovert personality, able to get away with any situation and talk to anyone —whether or not she previously meet them—, would never feel embarrassed no matter what. The fact of her being nervous was, simply, unthinkable, but that same day, Aziraphale learned that, in matters of the heart, Y/N felt much more than she was physically and mentally able to endure.

Who knew the reason?

The only thing he totally understood was that the relationship between his friend and that very human emotion called love was so pure, so convoluted in its own way and so latent within her, that for the first time in 4000 years— and with absolute certainty, it wouldn’t be the last— he saw her hysterical, alarmed and a totally loss for words.

Little did she know that, the moment she finally introduced herself to Crawly —Crowley, as he corrected with that deep and velvety voice of his— and didn’t know after what façade hiding those skin-deep nerves that pushed her to play with her own hands and smiling like an absolute idiot throughout the meeting, the demon felt his heart skipped a beat, falling for her long before he could stop it.

Of course, the only one who noticed this was Aziraphale, who from the outside could see with absolute clarity how an angel and a demon smiled at each other, chatted at ease —after 10 minutes in which Y/N didn’t know what to say and Crowley practically had to tear the words out of her mouth— and in their eyes, a strange feeling that they would be shaping during their many encounters over almost 2,000 years for them was reflected, beginning this way an endless torture for Aziraphale.

Nowadays...

‘’Aziraphale.’’ A beautiful voice pleaded, although it sounded more like a warning to the angel who, without stopping, reminded her each and every one of her encounters with the love of her life as if he was the author of a painful love story whose end was still to write.

He was killing her patience.

‘’Aziraphale…’’ She tried again, this time a little louder and lengthening the last vowel of his name, emitting a heavy nasal sigh as her whole body rocked to the rhythm of that same breath.

She was going to explode.

‘’Aziraphale!’’ She exclaimed after a few seconds, seeing that the rest of her attempts were completely useless and that, if she didn’t scream, she would never be able to shut her friend up, who then watched her with eyes wide open and an expression between confused and offended. ''I get it! I fucking get it!'' She breathed, exasperated with the situation almost as much as the angel in front of her. ''But I won’t do it. You know I can’t.''

The blonde snorted, frowned and pressed his lips in a thin line that, in silence, intended to reprimand his friend for her behavior.

And strangely, even though Y/N was used to that mixture of anger and disappointment, he got it.

''Oh c’mon, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m physically incapable. Do you remember that human I was interested in in 1487, Florence?"

‘’You’re talking about Leonardo da Vinci, aren't you?’’

‘’Yeah, him!’’ Oh, everyone remembered those years, when Y/N fell in love with the young, eccentric, faddy and complicated artist and couldn’t do more than talk about him.

At all hours.

All over the place.

Oh, the girl was head over heels for him.

''You know I tried. Hundreds of times. But each and every time I felt a knot in my stomach and my brain stopped working," she apologized, lowering her gaze until she lost it somewhere on the ground, far from the eyes of the angel that only judged her in the distance and in silence. ''Also, it wouldn’t have worked. I'm sure he didn’t like me that way.’'

And there are theories that would refute the young woman's suspicions, such as the rumor that Leonardo da Vinci was homosexual when, all those who knew him, knew for sure he didn’t dislike anything, and enjoyed both female and male company at all hours.

Leonardo's problem, if Aziraphale didn’t remember badly —and he didn’t usually do— was that he was only truly committed to his art, and the moment when perhaps he considered committing himself to someone else —one of his many muses— and shared this thought one night with one of his questionable friends... this one definitely convinced him not to do it.

Aziraphale nipped nervously at his lower lip; he knew the one who convinced the young artist not to take the step with his friend was no one else than Crowley. He could still hear the music of the florentine tavern that night, the voices shouting one above the other and the demon doing what he knew best, manipulating others to dance to his song, assuring Leonardo that love wasn’t gonna do more than hinder his art career.

Jealous selfish bastard, he wanted her for him.

''W-Well, but that was eons ago, my dear. I thought you’d overcome a long time ago from the story with Leonardo.''

''Yeah, I got over it, of course, don’t get me wrong, that's not what I'm saying, '' quickly corrected the girl, raising her eyes again to meet her friend's, catching the guilty look in that ones but deciding to leave it aside and not to ask about it. ''All I’m saying is if I couldn’t do it with him and he was a human like any other who would die after no more than 80 years... How could I do it with Crowley? Just to think about it terrifies me.''

But recapping, he knew his friend had had a partner on more than one occasion. Lasting more or less time, the girl had her fun throughout history; so in summary, her problem was only and exclusively confessing, taking the first step.

It hurted, even physically, because he was literally fed up with watching Crowley and Y/N constantly flirting with each other but at the moment of truth, they both thought it was just a game, a joke, part of their relationship and their personalities, nothing more.

How could they be so fucking blind!?

''I know, I indeed know, the only thing I say is that... the situation has already become untenable. What am I saying? It has been almost 2000 years. But before, Crowley and you only saw each other on rare occasions, once every 30 or 50 years with luck. Now? Almost every day." He reasoned, sighing deeply and calmly and leaning his body a little forward to be a little closer to his friend. '’Besides, you know he’s gonna notice that sooner or later.'' And without thinking twice, the angel brushed the exposed skin behind his own right ear, tearing from the girl's throat an audible gasp, almost like a silent scream.

‘’Shut up!’’ Y/N's eyes quickly scanned the room, panicking, making sure the aforementioned demon wasn’t sneaking around and, instinctively, covering the same ear Aziraphale had touched on himself. ‘’I swear to God If you say anything about it I’ll—’’

‘’I never told him and I promised not to do it in death or life. Your secret is safe with me.'' He assured, amused by the girl's reaction. "But being honest, it's a miracle you managed to hide it for almost 30 years. Someday he’s gonna see it, Y/N, and I can only hope that by then, you have confessed what you feel because otherwise it would be, how to say it? Wild.’’

To understand the conversation the two angels kept in the back room of this small bookshop in London, we must move to the late 80's, when during one of her worst drunkenness, Y/N couldn’t think of anything better than tattooing herself a snake identical to the one Crowley wore on his sideburn, but behind her right ear.

When Aziraphale heard about this the next day, he was absolutely scandalized, asking why. The answer he got? '' Because I know he hates it because it reminds him of Hell but I like it because it's part of who he is and I wanted him to be loved.'' But of course —sober— she knew it was definitely a bad idea and she couldn’t show it to him under no circumstance.

For some odd reason, she didn’t want to miracle it away either, so her strategy during those 30 years was to leave her hair loose and relatively long so he couldn’t see it.

'’Listen, Aziraphale,'' the girl started, turning the curl over again, having had this conversation with her friend countless times throughout her life. And it’s not that she didn’t appreciate his tireless attempts to see her happy and from the hand of the demon that had stolen her heart, it’s that she didn’t believe it was even possible. ''I appreciate what you're trying to do, really, and you know you're my best friend and I'd follow you to the end of the world again, if necessary, but I can’t look Crowley in the eye and tell him I've been in love with him long before the wheel was invented.'' It felt like she was apologizing to him, but anyone would know that the real apology was directed to her heart for not following her feelings and doing what they dictated. ''What I can promise you,'' she rose from her seat after a small pat on her own legs. ''is that I’ll try not to talk to you about this ever again so as not burn your patience so much.'' and leaving a quick kiss on the angel's cheek, Y/N waved goodbye and started walking towards the shop door.

''Thanks for the coffee!''

‘’She’s gonna kill me, isn’t she?’’ Aziraphale's voice rose fearfully, concerned once the bell on the door of the bookshop signaled that his friend had left and slow steps were noticed right behind him, stopping by his side.

‘’Yeah, probably.’’ But the face of the demon showed no concern for the angel, too happy to do anything but bite his bottom lip in order to hide the huge smile that threatened to spread through his face.

He still couldn’t believe all that he’d heard, hidden for at least a couple hours behind one of the huge and crowded shelves of the place.

‘’Well, you better take advantage of the situation so that all the paperwork I’ll have to do if that happens would be worth it, Crowley.’’

[bleached-d-soul]

Team ALAB: Night Lifemare

Part 1 of Team ALAB commissions for @the-hapless-ace

ALAB

Adam was a proud faunus.

He learnt way back that one of the main things that humans like Schnees and Winchesters wanted to take their pride first and then whatever else they had. Because the moment faunus lost the pride in thier blood, they would take any abuse thrown at them and think it was alright. That it was natural. Which is exactly why Adam always reminded any and all faunus around him that feeling shameful of their heritage was not an option.

Being proud didn't mean being arrogant, however. And he was not above admitting it when he messed up. As a former terrorist leader, he had a lot of mistakes under his belt. And for each and every one of them, he was ready to atone.

"Oh yeah, baby, shake that ass for me! Wohoooo!"

This time. however, the fault was not his. He didn't blow anything up or gut anyone that led to this mess. No, not by a long shot.

The mess he found himself in was the work of his idiot teammates and he would make sure they paid for it. With interest.

"Oh my, careful with him, Violet! He might bite you!"

"Or maybe he will show you why faunus men are beasts in bed!"

"Show it, bull boy! Show it all!"

He was grateful that the club allowed him to keep his mask on. He was even more grateful to whoever was up there that these ladies thought he was just a cosplayer and not an actual Adam Taurus, the former leader of the White Fang branch.

"Hey there, big bull boy! Sorry but I am afraid we bought you for the rest of the night!"

That gratitude evaporated the moment one of the women slapped a collar on him and took him for some private party.

Whatever remained of that gratitude turned into spite at the fucked up Gods who decided said party being for none other than Willow Schnee of all people. He reached for his sword... And remembered far too late that his was replaced with a plastic prop. The women - many of which he recognized as the wives of Atlas wealthiest businessmen - cheered him on, no doubt mistaking his murderous intent for some roleplaying stuff.

He had half a mind to leave.

He made a step towards the exit.

His collar was pulled with the strength of an Ursa and he found himself in a lap of none other than Willow Schnee.

"You look a lot like Adam Taurus," she said with a drunk gaze and light frown. Then it melted into a hungry smile. "My husband would hate it if I did this."

Did what?

She planted her lips on his. The cheers grew loud and wild as the Schnee matriarch explored his mouth in drunk and needy fever. Her hands roamed over the body that survived countless battles - many of which he led against her family. Her eyes gazed into his, conveying the message of anger and despair. He realized that she knew. She knew who he really was.

And so she buried her tongue even deeper in his mouth, her passion and desperation growing three times stronger. What life could she possibly have that she would be making out with the man who threatened her family and delivered on his promises more than once? Whatever life it was, it certainly was not a good one.

Great, now he was starting to feel sorry for a Schnee of all people.

He blamed Ren for all of this.

ALAB

Ren was a calm and flexible man.

Be it a classroom or a battlefield, he always remained the same. Sharp mind and nimble body. In order to maintain those, it was important to always eat healthy food and get enough sleep and exercise. His smooth skin and silky hair were merely a well-deserved bonus for all the effort and time he put in.

'Maybe I should tone down on it though.'

Such was the thought that ran through the young man's mind as he found himself surrounded by the women of Atlas. Much like the few flowers that survived the harsh winters, the women here were strong and strict most of the day. The current situation in the world demanded nothing less from the military officers situated in the city. But even the coldest of hearts needed to find some warmth. And while Ren was more than happy to provide it, he found these women not simply seeking heat but starving for it.

He had finished his dance routine around ten minutes ago. Mercury's dancing was cocky and full of hip movements aimed to excite and entrail. Adam always moved with the same air of danger as he did on the battlefield, his mere stance screaming for everyone to come near if only brave enough. Jaune was... Well, he was Jaune so he mostly appealed to women with the enthusiastic and energetic brightness.

And Ren? Well, he never liked to move beyond what was necessary. He moved slow and steady, sensual and serene. His dance was not to excite the crowd but to lull them into tranquil state of mind. Like a serpent, he would soothe their minds with elegent and soft approach.

He realized all too late that though he was a serpent, these women were hawks. And before he knew it, he was lying on the table, his kimono long-forgotten on the floor. A living sushi platter... He used to think that, were he not a Huntsman, the job where all he needed to do was relax and rest was a dream job. But with each piece of bite-sized treat leaving his naked flesh, the women eating seemed to grow only hungrier.

And not for more fish and rice.

'I am in danger!'

With a heavy sigh, Ren wondered why Mercury dragged him into this.

ALAB

Mercury was an alpha of the group.

He loved to think that much, at least. He liked his teammates alright and all but come on! Even though he was the son of the hitman, he was surprisingly the most stable one in the group. An ex-terrorist, an emotionally-suppressed ninja and a blonde idiot who tried his luck against Grimm without even knowing what Aura was. Was it any shock that he was the one who had the most luck among the ladies?

Even if right now he wished he was just as bad with them as his teammates.

"Bad boy! Yes, you are the bad boy and you need to be punished!"

The whip whistled through the air, its leather tip mercilessly finding its target. Any other day, he would simply shrug it off. With his Aura, he could tank a freaking nut-punch from Yang and be no worse for the wear. Unfortunately, his Aura ran out five minutes ago after the freaking bitch shattered it with her Semblance. Seriously, this club had some serious security problems.

"You remind me one of my students," she whispered, her hot breath tickling his ear. Slowly, she dragged her silky tongue across his cheek. "The disobedient, destructive degenerate... Nghh, how I wish you were him."

Thing is, he was. Fucking hell, he was pretty sure she was even talking about him. If only Goodwitch was the only person who ever called him that. He knew Goodwitch was a fucking sadist! He told the guys she didn't have the crop for nothing! 'Use it as her weapon'. Fucking bullshit!

"Now tell me, who am I?"

Psychotic sexually-repressed bitch of a teacher! That was what he wanted to say. That was what he did say.

"Wrong answer."

And that was what got him another ten whippings across his back.

Mercury used to wonder what it would be like to sleep with Goodwitch. And honestly, who could blame him? The girls back in Beacon were sweet and all, but their prof was a straight-up MILF, for Gods' sake. Well, now he knew what kind of woman hid behind those glasses and air of professionalism. And he knew that she was too crazy to stick his dick in.

"Aaaagh!"

"That's right, you disobedient little brat! Moan for mercy! Cry for help! Beg your Mistress for relief and love! If you act like the worm you are, she may even show you some benevolence!"

Whipping after whipping, Mercury made sure to burn the memory into his brain.

Jaune was so going to pay for this.

ALAB

Jaune had only himself to blame.

He knew that. And he was one hundred percent sure his team wouldn't let him forget that. In his defense, none of what happened today was his plan.

He just wanted to help out a friend in Atlas while they had some time to themselves. Azure has been his friend since they were ten until her family moved to Mantle and they lost all contact. And then, through the same coincidence, they met again just when she needed help. And sure, why wouldn't he help out an old friend in need? She had a club and said that some of her employees got food poisoning. So of course he volunteered himself and his team to help out. Plus, they could use some extra cash after their last stunt.

What was some dishwashing, waitering or working in the kitchen just for one night?

How could he know that his dear childhood friend was the owner of the host/strip club? She was so innocent when they were ten! Regardless of that, he already gave his word. And an Arc never went on his word.

Which is how he found himself here, giving both female members of the Ace Ops team the full-body massage. Oil and all.

"Hmmm, right there..." Harriet moaned as he started to massage her feet. He was eternally thankful for the masks. Gods know what would done to him if they found out he was the one giving them their message. "I might become a frequent customer of yours."

She let out another loud sensual moan.

'And I might never look her straight in the eyes now.'

"You said it, Harr," Elm whispered, the usually loud and booming lady speaking in serene tone. As he thought back the thorough massage he give to the amazonian beauty, Jaune couldn't help but wish for looser pair of pants. Suddenly, her muscled hand smacked across his ass, drawing out a cry from Jaune. "Are you up for another one? I think I might enjoy a do-over!"

"Hey, no fair, Elm," Harriet moaned as he moved up to her thighs. "He has to do me first! And you know I love my massages done slowly. Then again..."

In a flash, Jaune found himself on the table. The blushing and very naked Harriet on the top of him.

"I think I might enjoy a quickie right now!"

He wondered if his teammates were doing any better.

ALAB

"Okay, so we all agree that this is Jaune's fault, right?"

Mercury was sore. Not the good kind of sore either. After Mistre- After Goodwitch was done whipping him and left, he wasted no time in getting back into the dressing room and drinking the strongest alcohol he could find. Unfortunately, the closest source of much needed haziness was a glasss of peach martini so he was whipped, pissed off and all too painfully sober.

And his situation was absolutely - fucking utterly - not helped by his two remaining temmates complaining about their own 'hard' times.

"So you banged a Schnee MILF?"

Adam choked on his coffee briefly before putting on his mask. "We didn't do anything of that sort. Well, a little bit. But it was mostly a pity sex on my part."

"I don't think I am eating sushi any time soon. Or anything for that matter," Ren shuddered as he stepped out of the shower. When they met him, he was covered in bite marks and lipstick, smelling like the weird mixture of perfume and raw fish. "Remind me to never agree to Jaune's ideas every again."

"You two shouldn't complaing!" Mercury growled in frustration. So Adam made out and banged a MILF. Ren found himself in the middle of hot orgy. And what did he get? A bunch of whip marks across his back and very confused boner! "At least you didn't get stuck with Mistress Goodwitch of all people whipping you for being a bad boy!"

"Mistress?" Adam raised an amused eyebrow. "Never took you for a submissive type, Black."

"Oh fuck off, hornhead," Mercury scoffed. "Fuck, where is Jaune? I swear to Gods if he got lucky too, I am joining Salem."

"You do know you would have to work with your dad again, right?"

Shit, Red did have a point there.

"Eh, I would just kill him."

"I don't think you could do it."

"You think I would go easy on that bastard?"

"No," Adam said. Right before giving him that arrogant smirk of his. "I simply doubt your ability to do it. Last time you fought, you lost your legs."

"Well, your ex is banging the monkey boy so there's that."

Before the two former criminals began turning the place into another bloodbath, their bickering was interrupted by the weak knock on their door. Immediately, all three took defensive positions. Willow promised Adam to see him after the show, something he wasn't looking forward to. Ren had little doubt some of the women he entertained would come back for more.

And Mercury?

"Open the door, Ren. If it's Goodwitch, I am killing her right where she stands."

Fortunately for all of the people present, behind the door stood none other than Jaune. Who managed to look both deathly exhausted and one step away from dying from happiness.

"Jaune? Are you alright?" When Ren received no answer from their team leader, he got worried. "Jaune, are you in there? Tell me what happened?"

"T... T-Thighs..." he managed to whisper. "S-So... So soft yet strong..."

Gods, Elm's and Harriet's thighs would keep him awake for so long now.

"Great," Mercury scoffed. "Now that all of you got some and I got whipped, can we just get the money and go? I really wanna forget this night ever happened?"

"SA-!"

Wait, what was that?

"-LU-!"

Oh Gods, no...

"-TATIONS!"

The door was blasted open. the smoke and ash obscuring their vision. But not enough to mistake the android girl behind the explosion. Not with her bright neon lights glowing. What the hell was she doing here?

"Penny? Why are you here and... naked?"

As the smoke left the room. the entire team bore witness to Penny's form in a lingerie. Though why an android needed that, Mercury didn't understand.

"I have come here to better understand my peers!" She said, cheerful as ever. "And I found all of them supremely satisfied with your services! I want to feel that too!"

Without saying another word, the girl slammed a stack of Lien cards into Mercury's face. Okay, getting slapped in the face with cash while half-naked made him dirty. Very very dirty.

"Ahem, Penny? Our shift is over and I don't think any of us need the money right now," Ren approached diplomatically. "So how about we-"

Before he could finish, Penny stopped him. Hand over his mouth, the sweetest smile on her lips, the redheaded android looked at all of them with the eyes so full of life yet devoid at the same time.

"If you don't do as I say, I will leak the video of you four onto the Atlas network," she gave Ren an especially hard look. "Along with your location and daily routes. I bet all these women would love to meet you outside the club."

"A-Are you blackmailing us?"

Penny nodded eagerly.

"And this is my first time too! What do you think? Am I convincing enough?"

Very. Scarily so.

"Good! Now then... Slave Ren, lie down on the table! I want to try eating some desserts off those toned chest and stomach!" her finger went to Jaune. "My body may be made of hard Atlesian steel but with your ability to insert and manipulate Aura, you should be able to provide me with satisfactory massage, Slave Jaune!" her bright eyes went to Adam. "One sensual dance from you, please, Slave Adam."

Finally, him.

"Slave Mercury... Go sit in the corner."

Okay, not good feeling.

"I will try out some of Miss Goodwitch's things after I am done!"

Fucking hell!

"Hmm, I wonder if this is what Harem should feel like," Penny mused as she took another frosted cupcake off Ren's chest and took a bite. "No matter, I am truly enjoying myself!"

And so with that said, a simple favor asked by Jaune's friend resulted in the entire team ALAB becoming Penny's official if unwilling Harem.

[ckcker]

Fear of Being There

The scientists put 3D glasses on a cuttlefish I read in an article, which I pair with the unread email from a friend of twelve years sitting one tab away, it appears to partly be a link to some video.  Feeling brave, I gather speed and push to the open email, purposefully ignoring all of the friend’s written message to zoom into the thumbnail of the video link they shared with me, which shows on one side of the thumbnail the shocked open mouth of a drag queen reacting to what I assume to be the most heinous transgression.  On the other side, a porcupine’s needles blasting from inside the mid-section of what appears to be a burmese python.  “How could this scenario have ever happened,” I ask myself as I don’t click, then scan the message written above the link:

“are you still in Kansas City??”

“I saw our high school English teacher walking in the park with a huge clump of moss stuck on her ass, I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a long time”

“Carrie is in NA now and I never see her.  also I adopted a dog”

“I’m sad I haven’t heard from you in a long time but I respect that you are just doing your thing, doing what you think is best for you, I love you.  enjoy this video of a drag queen screaming as she watches a porcupine impale a boa constrictor from the inside, it really made me laugh.  It’s not real”

“I would love to visit some time if you’d have me, I would love a long road trip, no pressure.”  

All I ever felt towards this person was worry; they were frequently to be found painfully descending the valley of some knotty, unlubed parabola.  Suicide often seemed on the table though it was never openly discussed, and what was discussed and unburdened between us never seemed to offer this person any relief.  But, I had not seen them in almost two years — still, I worried.  The gristle of sympathy.  Though now I could only think this person a bit stupid for not electing revenge as the only compatible solution.  They wallowed, tried to make inroads on the community around them, multi-tasker, all I did was worry, wonder if there was no chance for them.  On my better days I in fact stopped worrying because I resolved to believe that there was no chance for them.  On worse days I used to encourage them to online date, to take classes in some technical craft and escape minimum wage, incredibly coming from me who has yet to escape minimum wage, I bloated them with the most despicable general advice most likely invented by some phantom community and popularized by rotating day time talk show cryptids.  I surprised myself, the self-help industry deluge came spilling readily from my own mouth, I had no other advice to give. No effect.  I had no idea what could help someone, I did not respond to the e-mail, the scientists put 3D glasses on the cuttlefish to study if it uses stereoscopic vision to hunt, love that.

I responded to the email by going out for a long walk.  The walk proceeded as planned.  And then, in front of my eyes, the glistening juice of a misdirected frappé bronzed itself on the sunlit sidewalk.  It was June.  The person who bought then dropped it when attempting to give their companion a lil sip seemed one or two involuntary grunts away from the most amateur keening. We did not know each other and passing by I said nothing, in another hour and a half it would be sunset and that was the daily alarm for my worst and most stupid memories.  

Walking without a plan for a couple miles had led me to nothing specific: a popular cafe with drive-thru option, and the entrance to some truncated nature preserve with an ample parking lot, that I barely observed.  The humiliated and frappé-less melody of the forlorn customer began to spread over my shoulder, I averted my gaze from the nature preserve to treat it as if an attractive face I was intimidated by.  The only use for such a pathetic nod to wilderness in an urban area should be frequent alien abduction.  I knew better than to hope for that, I was not a good multi-tasker and did best with a single plan of attack.  And I already had a good plan, through subtle make-up I was looking older by the day (more like the month).  Pretty soon I would dye my hair grey.  I considered it was something the young people of the era liked to do and not for the reason of appearing aged.  In fact, more than anything this coalition of young and old visual signifiers increased the proof of their wrinkle-free faces and accentuated the domineering stylistic awareness inherent to youth in a, unnaturally long energy-sucking sigh, capitalist country.  I continued to high step forward like a finickety markhor in a fugly mood. Then, finding myself facing a hard-to-cross state highway I concluded, “oh, haha…ok, ah……that’s fine” and turned back towards the unused nature preserve parking lot, “I am almost too far away from home anyway.” I sat on a curb on the side farthest away from the road.  Looking across the street I saw that the customer and friend had started to kiss.  A simple solution to the loss of the drink.  His body turned awkwardly, I allowed myself to espy the torque of the male’s twisted cargo short pocket and felt very little.  I was turned away from the forest preserve entrance, at sunset I would have the executioner’s urge to once again survey and prepare my Doha nights.  

The arrival of sunset did not derail my day, but it always succeeded in sequestering my concentration so as to remember that, perhaps, time — I felt fully sick of telling myself about it.  I would prefer an obsession more traditionally fun, there was something about the way the eyebrows (with near-unibrow between) met the sharp lines at the top of the hyrax-like nose of Q.C.’s gradually-hot-to-me face.  I did not spend too much time thinking on him, I had little control over my eyes when in his presence. Worse, attempting to appeal to him would mean calling off the whole ambitious deterioration project, which was fully under my control/the best path forward.  I did not spend much time thinking of him when not in his presence and the collective shimmy of maple tree leaves in the breeze appealed to my left side as it carried on through the row of trees behind me.  A sparrow bopped around the swath of thick grass to my right and was not interesting at all.  I knew I felt this about the sparrow because I turned away from it quickly.  Finally I rotated towards the nature preserve entrance.  Was this an opportunity for me to snag a poesis?  I wanted to be home in my bed alone.  I also wanted to pretend to be thriving, inspired and free.  I wanted to try to see the world for the first time again.  

I got up and started towards the forest path with the confidence and direction of the professional managerial class.  To appeal to Q.C. would involve a gravitational u-turn, I would have to cut my hair better, with more style and intention, I would have to once again attempt to wear clothes that mostly fit my body, with careful monitoring of the area where jeans could be hit firm with zested glute.  I would have to invest much mental analysis into determining how to embody his desire.  I would have to keep emphatic track of my body language and reactionary expressions when near him so as to appear at least some low level of confident and laid back.  The antithesis of an angry errant stump, sucking vengeance through an ancient straw lined with obsidian spikes that clacked ominously against dentures I did not need.  I could not appear as “depressed for two.” Again, and worst of all, I would have to deselect the only source of direction for the future, my only true idea for satisfaction: the pursuit of my literally new age.  My only chance to repair my original timeline, by controlling my own time.  The old tension between wanting badly to be noticed and desired by others, and wanting that definition of freedom which is the refusal of all external attention, both approval and disapproval, in order to bring about the most contained stability — of course that tension ran me ragged once again.  That wan zit, it really seemed scripted at this point, I worked very hard to send it to the background.  My body clearly sensed this when it activated the release of an ear wax ball the shape and weight of a gently used cheek piercing stud.  The feeling associated with its premiere and gruesome launch was similar to just catching the last concrete appearance and subsequent fadeout of a semi-interesting-but-ultimately-unremarkable ghost of a 52 year old coffee mug.

I entered the forest, which began with a layer of joyless mulch.  The opening of the trail had dimensions so wide even the most sexually depraved plant had little chance to gak its repressed gropeage on a passing body.  I looked up as I walked, realizing the only animal likely to be spotted here, at this time of day, would be a bird.  Perhaps I might see a hawk or turkey vulture.  My survey resulted only in the very soft swaying of stacked green branches in front of striated and unremarkable clouds.  After watching this gentle tableaux for about thirty seconds, I wanted to more than violently shake an in-his-prime Ansel Adams, ask him what in the unconscionably labyrinthine fauxhawk I’d just seen. Would he have looked twice at this sky — my glance still directed upwards, I heard its scabrous chirp before I saw it, and then I saw it and immediately hated its presence: a sparrow had landed on an oak branch forty feet above my head and wanted to stay there.  I refused to let it observe me, turning to it I suddenly screamed in the timbre of an aggressive synth orchestra hit.  Continuing my walk after compartmentalizing its non-reaction, I wondered how I might make these natural surroundings matter to me.  They made no inherent argument that profoundly engorged the fun bags, perhaps because I was generally hooked into things by chaos, aggression and arguments, not by continuity or bucolia.  I could identify the simpler trees at least.  Of course pines and maples were easy, birch too.  I could usually confirm oak and cherry through guesswork. Otherwise I wandered through a forest in a skein of unskilled silence, in some beta-level abyss that was never fact-checked.  I didn’t know if having the names of mosses and wildflowers and mushrooms made it easier to appreciate the woods I forced myself into.  That I recognized and questioned such absences in myself was part proof that I felt a large component missing in the ongoing construction of respect for humble surroundings, and part recall of an inherent tendency to not care much about my own construction.  Against the spirit of the times, I spurned the concept of “personal development,” both in the thought directives I gave myself, and in the level of base inertia and hatred of fitness that exposed me as down-low sirenia.  “Personal development” — I did not trust the idea.  But moderate walking was acceptable to me and I continued to walk.  All trees beside me were suddenly activated by a quite beefy breeze from inside the forest.  Mood was present.  And along the audio effects of the wind in heavy leaf-covered branches, I thought I heard a rustling in a different tempo one-hundred feet further along the path.  A clench shuttered my body.  Once, I was reckless.  I entered badly lit hotel rooms brimming with silhouettes of animatronic movements.  I took pills handed to me, only asking after I swallowed them what they were (bottom tier migraine medication).  These days nearly any situation outside my apartment brought the inflamed trance of cautious thoughts.  Where I seemed to hear the sound I saw nothing but the continuation of breeze, and felt fully the irregular welts of my prey mentality.  

But I did not turn to exit.  The introduction of humidity into early summer pumped a new game in me anyway, the godforsaken thirst for some swell of “possibility.”  Against my addiction to titanium cowardice, flicked this vague and acidic proposition for adventure — that most rancid word of careerist travel influencers and successful stunt doubles.  Heavy hot air seemed to ferment a perennial wildness of feeling that, in other weather conditions, remained neatly veiled in self-suck.  I hated that I could still be easily infiltrated by this hormonal illusion of “anything can happen,” despite all my malevolent associations with the phrase.  It was important to make a list of all the things that are possible. “Anything can happen” was a sloppy mantra full of menace and probably popularized at some point in the late 20th century to sell mini frozen bagels with pizza toppings.  The list of all the things that are possible is the list of most crucial truth, it is a list that serves as sublime prep for someone who has been through the full consummation of “anything can happen,” when the thing that happened was a mind-shedding, unmentionable thing.  I knew the culture at large was heavily against such a distrust of possibility, as the concept suggested monumental change and always for the better — the potential of fortune.  I also knew it was against the cosmetic grafting of extra skin to make what I suddenly decided to refer to as ‘my boys’ look especially wrinkled and saggy.  I stood still and surveyed the way partial sunlight glazed on and off the nearest bush of presumably poisonous berries.  I briefly turned around and took in the forest entrance in the distance, and beyond it the suggestion of abridged midwestern meadow, now also washing in and out of sunlight with an unpunished laze, that I felt very unused to.  Nowhere else in my life, to which I paid attention, obeyed that kind of rhythm.  This statement was immediately wrong and a direct contradiction of my slow motion lifestyle.  I allowed the statement to stand because its wistful gush was enjoyable, roughly spiritual, and juicy.  

It brought thoughts of a nightmare I once had that eventually, through sustained lack of action, curdled into just a dream, a dream that had a trolled atmosphere of never-ending.  A dream that felt three years long.  A nightmare-incubated dream that appeared seven months after that moment of apex possibility and only the second dream after.  

There was a group of us.  We were in a house, we didn’t know we were in a slasher movie, we had thought it was a self-liberation biopic.  We were pursued by a presence we did not expect.  But every time there was a shot of the killer, the killer had been deleted in post.  Only a tense and expectant camera followed us around, and we screamed at empty spaces at the top of the staircase and in corners of rooms.  Dissonant music accompanied us, which, now knowing we were in a horror movie, we expected and rolled our eyes at. But we never saw the killer and nobody ever died.  

I also remembered the first dream I had after the event, it was very short and involved me waking up at 7am to give a dog one cup of dry food.  The density of hanging leaves in the forest began to inch a feeling of haunch and ceiling overhead, the light landing on the settled foliage only in splatters of rhapsodic dag.  The inevitable feeling of being alone in the woods, despite the steady wash of faraway highway motors, is intimacy with something.  You believe you are not being seen, when small and mundane animals see you, it means absolutely nothing.  With a bear or mountain lion in the mix, at last you will truly feel “seen.”  I was in a freely neglected and shrunken nature preserve on the edge of a midwestern city, I did not think it was possible to be seen by a bear and so I did not feel like I could be noticed.  Thus I felt intimacy.  

The content of that intimacy had zero intellectual value.  It was only the comfort of being fully hidden, safe and alone.  I was impressed by how much thick cover the trees supplied since the preserve itself was state park theater.  The trees hid me from the sky, repressed my existence from something that could watch me.  I basked.  I thought of the substantial bulge of an older male in tight-fitting jean shorts.  In this context of feeling unseen, it seemed the thru line of my consciousness in bringing up such an image was the keyphrase, “something hidden.”  The intimacy began to retreat as a counter.  Again, my head disenrolled me from a healing terrestrial feeling; it looked at nature with vast inexperience, it pursued a perspective of mountainscape print out.  I tried to recover the hypnotic sap of that momentary solitude and continued walking. Of course the interruption of erotica in mind is one of the more iconic nature moves.  And yet for some reason it seemed to unravel the hallmark atmospherics of a more investigative mystery.  Such a divide was proven by watching my pivots of attention between two tickles.  For instance, on one side, direct observation of a boner. The other side, fog covering an empty island highway at night.  I thought I knew well the narrative arc of a priapism, and I thought I did not yet know much about the carnage in my seeping memories.  It seemed obvious — of the things that controlled me, I prioritized with meaning the one I did not know much about.  And instinctively, being alone under thick canopy felt like good setup for that kind of self-irrigation.  I thought of the bulge again then saw another sparrow and after it reasonably bopped about for a skoach I suggested to it, “get away from me fuckface.” Again it did not move.  

I walked several paces off the path and leaned against a definite oak trunk, wondering if my old person stage makeup was still intact, glancing towards the voyeuristic rays of sun slipping through the trees, well diffused and beginning their noticeable descent.  I listened.  After approx. twenty seconds of listening I heard the long-churning spew of a motorcycle gunning down the road about a quarter mile away, somehow powerful enough to overwhelm the peaks of forest ambience with its quite rascally discharge, hunh, the streaks of horrific classic rock revival spraying after it.  I thought, “stop subverting me,” then felt the newly introduced stance of someone in my peripheral vision.  They did not advance or retreat but did fidget.  Probably, I could not be sure without glancing directly, pretending to look up something on their phone.  They seemed about fifteen feet away from me, I considered if I would have to kill them in self-defense.  

“How’s it going?” a man’s voice directed at me from the trail, giving me permission to look at him directly.  A balding but well-maintained buzz of greying black hair, glasses, a thin white-yellow-green-black button down tartan print department store shirt tucked into leather belt and loose fitting blue jeans, the eye eventually and uncontrollably being led down to the neon pink, orange and yellow running shoes with white laces low-key dusted in a sampling of diaphanous schmutz.  My “hi” was squeezed out with full defenses.  The man did not say anything back but immediately enacted some plan of his, made obvious in his eyes that pressed on my face with an unmistakable singularity. He pursued unbroken eye contact to evaluate the potentiality of the interaction. I responded by looking away, remembering it was a powerful move in the game. I also refused to believe he thought me attractive enough for whatever in-development future passed through his turgescent nethers.  As a mature adult, I was no longer available to rawk out with my cawk out but clearly the cast of desperation on the man made it possible for me to appear sexually acceptable, as evidenced by his not leaving.  Nor did I imagine that he produced much foregrounded desire in an m4m community; lastly he probably stayed because he was closeted.  I tried to maintain an appearance of clueless indifference, comparable in chillness to deciding to write ‘U R’ in a text message the same moment you observe a plastic bag fly in the wind towards a sleeping stray cat. Since the man did not leave or say anything, I also waited another 7-10 seconds in silence and downward glance.  Yet this tactic, usually so effective in social settings, had failed, and so I looked at him again.  And again the charged stare of non-verbal magic.  The humid air was beginning to slightly cool as the wind filled the space between my collar and neck, suggesting it might rain soon.  But behind the man’s head the sun, flanked by fleshy lard-swept clouds in various indigo exposures, was still visible.  I hoped if the increase in gusts continued that they might produce a temporary bald spot on the crown of my head as I said, “why are you looking at me?”

He did not immediately respond, but severed all links with my eyes.  I watched his glance minutely dart from one close location on my face to the next, “do you have makeup on?”

Each generation, freer than the last. The man did not know the answer for sure, but that he had noticed something was confirmed.  Very exciting, I beamed internally.  I controlled the beam.  There was still so much work to be done.  

Towards the man I projected breathtaking displeasure.  I assumed the keyed up tone of someone wanting to be regularly shared on the internet: “I’m just trying to enjoy the forest on my day off sis so don’t—” and shut off inexplicably, though recognizing as the system recoiled that the implication of this man’s advances had lightly cracked some automated timecode in my lower lefthand corner of frame.  My body — I had only felt it all of a sudden.  Shoulders were arched forward to protect my underbelly, chest was swollen and stuffed with the debris of a delayed reaction of terror, single inconsistent tingle in left leg suggested the tiniest strobing marquee aimed at the brain, suggesting “run.”  I had thought, this is not a dangerous situation at all.  A little unusual but not something I haven’t experienced before.  Something I could refuse and easily walk away from.  

The body had behaved differently.  Sunset mounted.  The body had believed it was going to die.  I hadn’t even noticed.  Internal monologue always suggested much to investigate when looking for a solution, it presented long interconnected hallways and sliding doors, considerations of escape and tactical movement.  It berated the body for not reading the situation correctly or at all, it hated the body’s spontaneous and inept mechanisms.  It relished any reference to the phrase “bassackwards” but in this case the body was right.  If I was to be killed by this person was still up in the air, I leaned towards no, but the body had not been reacting to my imminent death, only suggesting how relaxedly I pretended to advance through commercial district sidewalks, gas station candy aisles, cruisy chip bag-strewn forest preserves as if I’d never been reorganized by some sort of adaptation of death in which you survive. There was much work to be done, much work, to make the hair of my eyebrows more profuse and unkempt.  My nose hair, which was way too thin and manageable, samesies.  It was with the failure of a deep breath that the gauze of that summer sunset coaxed me back into the scene, despite the marquee now reading “Run II: Darkest Before Dawn.”  The man had not known how to respond to my ejection from the clapback.  I took stock, the forest appeared momentarily still and squirrelless.  His energy seemed as if grappling with the possible realities of what I was.  If crazy, at least in the way that interferes with verbal communication, I was no longer an option in his “mmm………damn”-ridden design.  If crazy but able to continue clear conversation, or if so shy as to appear only intermittently awkward in conversation with strangers, I was still a highly available mark.  

“Do you like it here?” he asked.  It seemed that micro makeup and abandoned sentences were not considered dealbreakers for someone in his position.  My body continued to want to leave and I stayed, he took a few steps forward, staring again with that binary intensity where the recipient must commit to its endgame or flash exit.  

A strap broke in me: I suggested, “I hate it here.”  The comment reached him. He looked as if to be re-processing me under a blank face but maintained his slow approach.  I was answering his questions coherently and so I was incredibly sexy, perhaps.  “I’m not doing well,” I followed up, using a long-acting smile-to-smirk succession in an attempt to muffle it.  

This was ignored, “I’ve got a pretty big one,” silence, breeze, sunset, wow — squirrel, “what are you looking for out here, alone?”  

Silence, squirrel, “you know where you are, right?”

Breeze, trees, sunset, reggaeton in the distance, instinct erupted — I stepped forward. “It’s not yet time for my annual anal,” my voice cracked.  “In fact, it won’t happen this year, or ever again.”  

A pause was produced, though it was clear he didn’t quite grasp my meaning.  I stood still, now staring at him in order to properly knead the info.  Finally a look of understanding on his face — “oh, I’m sorry” and he exited back up the trail, all spells dismantled.  

I remained in the woods.  I looked at the squirrel.  I even yearned to see a sparrow, uninterested in knowing why.  I allowed the intellectual regulations to rest, I listened to the joyous pump of prancing squirrel feet on twig-bedazzled forest floor.  I looked at the sunset, while blocking the word “beautiful,” and liked it.  I walked to the path, turning away from the exit with the rush of a recently liberated preteen spray-painting an anarchy symbol on the door of a rusty abandoned sedan next to discontinued freight train tracks that are overgrown with weeds and yellow wildflowers.  I wanted to walk deeper into the woods, I wanted to be in the woods when it got dark.  I wanted to be alone and without a mind.  Knowing it was untrue, I nevertheless proposed to myself, “I think I could cum just from being alone for 3 weeks.”  After a feisty fifty or sixty steps around the curving path, I met chain link fence separating the forest from a row of backyards and their respective single family homes.  I thought of the cliche of an evil character in a kid’s movie laughing maniacally for some time then very suddenly stopping to present a severe and unamused face.�� It surfaced as a whimper.  

[jaroslavlewis]

Excerpt from an Upcoming, Untitled ShinRan Fic

AN.: For more feels, listen to “So Close” by Jon McLaughlin or “Almost is Never Enough” by Ariana Grande. That’s how I wrote this fic. 

The best man and the maid of honor stand from a distance, watching the bride and the groom dance to a sweet melody on a platform.  The crowd cheers.  The best man smiles and so does the maid of honor.  Together, along with the rest of the guests, they raise their glasses.  

Shinichi takes a sip from his glass of champagne.  From his peripheral vision, he notices Ran doing the same.  He sets the glass down the table and he continues watching Heiji and Kazuha, arms around each other, looking at each other eye to eye with happiness painted on their faces. 

For a moment, his mind drifts somewhere else.  He imagines himself in Hattori's place and Ran in Kazuha's.  He sees Ran all dolled up in an embellished, lace and tulle, V-neck, A-line wedding dress.  She smiles as she looks up at him and his sapphire eyes meet her amethysts. The world seems to stop and then...

"Do you think... " He says absentmindedly, still in his dreamland.  

'We'll ever be like them?'

His words soon falter into silence as soon as he realizes what he was about to say. He purses his lips and shakes his head.  Perhaps it was the alcohol talking. He'll never understand.  He peers over to his side, at Ran who is still focused on Heiji and Kazuha while they dance away to dreamland as if they are in their own world.  She has a sad smile on her face.  He holds his breath as he prays she did not hear him. 

But it was too late.

"We'll never be like them... " She says, sighing with remorse, answering his implied question.  She turns to glance at him, at his tall frame.  Even when she was in heels, Shinichi was still taller than her.  

Shinichi in turn, avoids her gaze and awkwardly places his hands in his pockets. He nods and sighs with the same amount of remorse as she has just done. 

'She's not yours. Not anymore... ' He says in his head as a reminder.  His heart breaks.

The music shifts into an upbeat one and the guests cheer once again, they gather around the dance floor to join the bride and the groom.  Ran turns away to leave.  Shinichi follows her, he almost loses her in the crowd. 

And then he finds her sitting by the bar, finishing off her glass of champagne.  He steps closer to her just behind her, admiring the view of her exposed back as she was wearing an elegant, backless, peach-colored dress. He admires how beautifully it compliments her skin and her frame.  

He hesitates to approach her but then she rotates the stool, turning to face him.  She crosses her legs, exposing the fair skin of her right leg since her dress had a long, revealing slit.

He catches a glimpse of the white lacy garter that he put on her earlier during the traditional wedding garter game. He remembers the feeling of her soft smooth skin against his lips.  

Ran catches him staring at her exposed skin.  She modestly pulls the fabric to cover herself. She blushes and so does he.  

She clears her throat and pats the stool next to her, inviting him to sit and so he does.  

"Gin on the rocks. " He tells the bartender who proceeds to fix his drink.  

Ran glances at him strangely he turns to her as he feels her gaze at him.  He smiles.  She didn't need to ask.  He could tell by the look of her face what she was thinking. 

"It was a defense mechanism.  I started drinking the cocktails that resembled their names to get over the trauma after what happened... " He explained and Ran nods.  

The bartender sets down Shinichi's drink.  and Shinichi takes it in his hand he looks at the glass as he lightly shakes the liquid and ice inside.

"It makes me think that I'm in control of them... " He says before bringing the glass up to his lips, taking a gulp of the alcoholic drink.  

Ran finds herself staring at him. Her eyes dart at his lips and she remembers how they felt against her skin, when he was pulling the garter up to her thigh using his teeth.  Then she stares at his Adam’s apple, moving as he gulps.  She absentmindedly bites her lips but she snaps out fron her reverie when he sets the glass down, making a sound as it makes contact with the table.  He winces at the bitter after taste.  Ran sets aside her champagne and then avoids his gaze.  They stay silent, not knowing what to say to each other. 

"The night is young... Let's dance... " He says impulsively and Ran gapes at him, bewildered. Shinichi chuckles at her reaction.  

"Dancing with your ex?  Don't you think it's weird?" She asks, bringing the glass of champagne to her lips but not drinking anything from it instead, she stains the rim of the glass with her lipstick. 

"But I'm not dancing with my ex. " He says, taking her free hand and the sudden contact sends shivers down her spine. She turns her attention to him and looks at his cerulean eyes. Suddenly she remembers how easily she could get lost in them.  "I'm dancing with my childhood friend... "

He smiles and so does she.  He stands up and she does too.  Her dress flows freely against her frame, accentuating her perfect body figure in a modest but sexy way.  Shinichi couldn't help but feel mesmerized as he pauses for a moment to look at her before he lightly drags her along with him. Ran's champagne glass soon lays forgotten by the bar as they head towards the dance floor.  Suddenly the upbeat music shifts into a soft one as if on cue.  Couples start to slow dance. Suddenly Shinichi and Ran feel awkward again.  Feelings resurface and they continue to repress them. 

Ran looks around and then turns to Shinichi. She has a hesitant look on her face.  Her eyes are filled with anxiety and so many questions are going through her head.  Shinichi feels his heart racing but he gives her an assuring smile. 

"Just one song.  A couple of minutes and it's over... " He promises her.  She nods.  

Shinichi guides her hands to his shoulders before he wraps his arms around her waist.  His fingers graze the exposed skin of her back.  She flinches at his touch but she comfortably wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

She looks at him and silently admires how handsome he is in his black tux.  Unknown to her he is doing the same, savoring the moment, thinking about how lovely she looks in her peach dress and done-up hair. 

Then he remembers he only has roughly three minutes, four or five at the most to hold her.  So he pulls her closer to him and rests his chin on her shoulder. She is taken aback by his actions but she doesn't push him away instead she returns his embrace and steadies her breath as he feels him breathing against her neck.  

They continue to lightly sway to the rhythm, listening to the music but mostly thinking to themselves how they could only wish for tine to stop for a moment or maybe for the song to go on longer...  To go on forever. 

The bridge of the song comes and Shinichi,��unable to control himself, lowers his head just a little so that his lips met her exposed shoulder.  Shivers run down Ran's spine and she heaves a soft sigh.  He leaves soft kisses against her shoulder, tracing up to her jawline and then to her cheek.  Her hands travel from the small of his back and then up to brush her fingers gently against his dark brown hair.

Shinichi pauses just a millimeter away from Ran's face. His lips almost touching hers. She could literally breathe in his breath that smelled of Gin and...  peppermint, quite an odd combination. 

Then the last note of the piano instrumental plays and fades into silence. Ran snaps back and Shinichi wakes into reality. 

"So, that's one song...  Time's up. " She says in a tone almost inaudible for him to hear and she gives him a half-hearted smile.  She steps away from his embrace and he abruptly feels her warmth leaving him. 

Then she turns around and walks away, leaving him alone, his feet stuck to the floor as he was startled by what just happened.  He shakes his head regretfully and sighs. 

'Damn it.  What have I done? '

AN.: This could totally be the whole third chapter of the fic. LOLJK. It’s gonna be longer, I swear. I’ve outlined the whole plot progression and this in estimate, will be part of body three. So that’s the tea. I could’ve uploaded a shorter one or cut up to the part where Ran says, “We could never be like them.” But damn it I got no self-control. Hahaha. I wrote this while I was waiting to pay for my taxes. The bank and BIR totally wasted my time but at least, I was able to do something productive out of it. Anyway... Here it is. Shinichi and Ran broke up after the BO encounter and this is them, 10 years later. You’ll know the reason once the first chapter is uploaded. I’ll try to write the beginning parts tomorrow and I’ll see if I can upload the thing the same day or during the weekend. I’m also still working on the title. For now, here’s the big teaser. Hahahaha I’m nervous. I think I totally spoiled everything and you guys will lose interest. XD

[thespacenico]

klance fic recommendations!

some good kl fics for the soul (more under the cut)

a bullet just to meet you (petalloso)

lance spiderman au!

completed (1/1)

“What color are your eyes?” “What?” “It’s just, I can’t tell. I think about it a lot, your eyes and the color. You know how we can only see the barest portion of the electromagnetic spectrum? Even bees can see more of it than we can. I feel like whatever color they are, people can’t see it, like it only exists on you.”

a mighty ocean or a gentle kiss (cityboys)

super soft keith comforting lance

completed (1/1)

"You don't have to keep coming here, you know." Keith frowns, settling back with his hands at his sides. "Are you sending me away?" "No," Lance says, too loud too fast. "Just—you know—you have a choice." Keith lets silence fall back for a moment. Then, flatly, he says; "And I'm choosing to be here."

and, we dream of home (mothpoem)

keith visits lance while he’s with the bom

incomplete (2/3)

Keith feels his breath catch at the sight and has to forcibly remind himself that he’s not staring down a desert mirage, that Lance won’t wink out of existence up close and at exactly the wrong angle. He’s real. Not a pipe dream. Real boy. Blue and breathing. And beautiful, Keith’s brain adds, almost unwillingly. “And beautiful,” Keith mutters ruefully as he approaches at a silent soldier’s tread, and then he has to repress a big, dumb smile.

aprovechar el sol (speaks)

keith meets lance’s family

completed (4/4)

"Because I love you," Lance said, and Keith was floored by the way it just fell out of his mouth like he'd said it a thousand times before, the way it carried the same inflection it had when he said it earlier to each member of his family. "And there's nothing in the universe that could change that.”

better than coffee (anonymous)

keith is a barista and lance suddenly needs boba every day

completed (4/4)

“What’s in a name?” said Lance. “That which we call a rose—” Keith wrinkled his nose (rather adorably, Lance noted). “Don’t call me a rose.” Lance clutched his chest on one hand and held out the other to Keith. “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Keith is the sun!” Keith pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why did I ever give you my number?”

call me, beep me (orphan_account)

super sweet texting fic

completed (10/10)

(19:12) Update: Muffin is safe. (19:13) We found him in the park with a group of cats. Mildly worried he might be part of a gang. This big one with one eye tried to claw my face off when I went to grab Muffin. (19:20) This is the greatest news I've heard all day.

due west (europa_report)

krolia’s pov on keith’s and lance’s relationship

completed (5/5)

“Why did the blue lion choose you?” Lance’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. He was an expressive boy. He wiped the shock away quickly though, smiling easily as he took a small sip from the drink he held. “Dunno. We had a connection, I felt it the second I stepped into that cave. You know, the one Keith-“ “I know,” Krolia said tersely. “I found it.”

eternity (was in our lips and our eyes) (thespacenico)

post s7 feud episode

completed (1/1)

Lance feels like he's on the cusp of a life-changing revelation. "I told him not to tell you." And this time, Keith doesn't seem to have trouble asking the unavoidable question: "Why?" Lance looks at Keith, and everything falls into place. A life-changing, mind-blowing, head-splitting, earth-shattering revelation.

hearts don’t break around here (klancekorner)

lifetime best friends to lovers

completed (13/13)

“You could do the deep dish pizza place next to the park?” “Deep dish isn't sexy, Snickers.” “Does it have to be sexy?” “Of course.”

hey, mom, i met a boy (mothpoem)

keith sees visions of his future with lance

completed (1/1)

“What did you see?” Krolia murmurs. “Nothing,” Keith answers, voice rough. And then: “Everything.”

home is a feeling (thespacenico)

post s6, lance feels guilty about shiro and keith has nightmares

completed (3/3)

Keith has never felt so vulnerable. But in this moment, his head on Lance's shoulder, Lance's arms around him, he feels safe. He feels home.  He didn't know that home could be a feeling up until now.

if i had one wish (thespacenico)

for keith’s birthday; found family

completed (1/1)

Shiro seems to realize what's happened before Keith does. "You forgot," he says softly.   Keith stares at them. It's his birthday. He forgot his birthday. "Oh my god," Lance says.

just come to me once (laallomri)

keith writes lance letters on the space whale

incomplete (2/3)

Hi Lance. I hope you are okay. Today I hugged my mom for the first time. It wasn’t very good cause she’s kind of awkward about hugs and so am I. But I still liked it. I think I get it now when you said you missed your mom’s hugs so much. I hope you get to hug her soon.

let me melt under the heat of your sun (akaeijis, esbis)

lance and keith fall in love pre-kerberos mission

completed (1/1)

Keith’s lips are chapped, but they yield and they welcome and Lance feels like the ground gives way and he’s trapped in a freefall in slow motion. It’s so warm, the sun in his hands—moths burn up in flames, Icarus hurtles to the ground in a blazing trail, nothing gold can stay—Lance allows himself to burn.

mail me your heart (you already got it) (crystalklances)

basically a love, simon au??

completed (1/1)

You’re making me blush, Red. You don’t even know what I look like, how would you know I’m cute? Either you’re just messing with me, or you really are trying to flirt.

never saw you coming (dimpleforyourthoughts)

E M O T I O N A L   R O L L E R   C O A S T E R

completed (1/1)

If it were anyone else, Keith would figure he’d be dead in a minute. But he knows, as soon as he gives in to the beckoning unconsciousness, exactly what’s going to happen. He’s only been watching Lance’s stupid goddamned martyr complex play itself out for months now. He knows exactly how this story ends.

nothing’s quite as sweet (dimpleforyourthoughts)

keith is a barista and lance volunteers at a cat shelter

completed (1/1)

Keith grabs the collar of Lance’s hoodie and pulls him back down. Keith thinks, please catch me please catch me please catch me. And Lance does.

say my name (and every color illuminates) (talking_bird)

dream soulmate au

completed (1/1)

“Well, that’s what you are, right? My subconscious talking to me? That’s what my aunt says dreams are, but it’s kinda weird that my subconscious hasn’t seen the ocean before since I’ve been around the ocean my entire life.”

the light the water reflects (auras)

the softest and most poetic thing you’ll ever read

completed (1/1)

“You know,” Lance says, “When I think of home, I think of something that makes me feel content and warm inside. Metaphorically speaking.” Lance’s hand doesn’t move from his, even after the other boy dozes off, filling the silence with his gentle snores.  (It makes Keith feel content, and warm inside.)

the love you left behind (thespacenico)

adam, keith, and lance post-kerberos mission

incomplete (1/3)

"Do you still love him?" he asks quietly. Adam laughs softly. "Of course I do." He takes his glasses from the counter and pushes them back onto his nose. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed as hell." Keith snorts, and Adam instinctively brings his hand up to the chain around his neck as he looks back out the window, at the stars. "But, yeah. I still love him. That much hasn't changed."

the stars, the moon (they have all been blown out) (talking_bird)

hogwarts au

completed (1/1)

“You know,” Lance started, voice so quiet, Keith wondered if he even wanted him to hear it, “whenever I conjure my patronus, you’re my happiest memory…” In a ghost of a voice, Keith whispered, “And you’re mine.”

there, nestled against his pulse (hiuythn)

soulmate au that literally murders your soul. 

completed (17/17)

The words on Keith’s right wrist say, hey kogane you alright. The words on his left read, stop why are you doing this to me stop it stop it stop

when the lights go out (dimpleforyourthoughts)

date and a fifth

completed (1/1)

“You know,” Keith says quietly, “You’re not a bad dancer. I expected you to constantly step on my feet.” “That may be the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night.” “Don’t get too comfortable there, cowboy.” “Cowboy.” Lance grins, hopelessly endeared.

you’re lucky that’s what i like (zenstrike)

collection of absolute fluff

incomplete (12/?)

“Uh, Lance?” Lance felt his eyelids drooping. “Yeah?”     “I may have asked for tickets to the least crowded movie.”     Lance considered this. “And we didn’t even make out,” he said with a sigh. “...they didn’t tell me no one had bought a ticket.”     Lance smiled.

[i-w-p-chan]

Oh, B[r]other...

Summary: Ren’s brother arrives in Tokyo. What happens next won’t shock you. AkiAke. RenKita. Crackish.

Note: I’ve been fed enough encouragement to do a twin AU. Enjoy.

Warnings: Dramatics, Akira Be A Horrible Flirt, Akechi Did Nothing To Deserve This, Sojiro Puts His Foot Down At Some Point, Akira Is A Protective Big Brother, Akira’s Legs, Akira’s Legs Appreciation, The Dangers Of Max Charm Akira.

Disclaimer: Don’t own P5.

.

The Thieves trickled into Leblanc’s attic one by one, all of them- Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, and Makoto- looking curious as they wondered why their leader called them for an urgent meeting.

They were also worried, wondering if something happened with Futaba after she passed out.

Ren looked at them all gravely.

“We have an emergency,” He said, his eyebrows furrowed behind his glasses, and took out his phone, “My brother is in Tokyo.”

Silence.

“What?” Makoto was dumbfounded, “What’s the emergency in that?”

“You don’t understand!” Ren raised his shaking hands and offered them the phone, which looked like it was open on the messaging app, given the red background, “Wherever he goes, he brings chaos with him and he looks so much like me I don’t want people to mistake him for me. It’s a recipe for disaster! My brother alone is a recipe for disaster!”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Ann bit her lip.

“You don’t know Akira.” Ren sounded desperate, “He messaged me out of the blue today saying that he just arrived in Tokyo and that I don’t need bother picking him up because he feels like exploring first, and that I don’t need to worry because he knows how to find Leblanc. Right in this moment, my brother is walking around Tokyo unsupervised!”

“Do you want us to help you search for him then?” Yusuke cocked his head to the side, “Where would we begin, though?”

“Thank you, Yusuke, light of my life!” Ren looked ready to break out into sobs.

The rest of the Thieves stood around awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say to their leader who, almost always composed, was breaking down right in front of their eyes.

Makoto pressed her lips together into a thin line, “I don’t think we are physically capable of finding your brother in Tokyo without any way to track him down. Especially since he’s new to the area and probably exploring as well.”

“So, what?” Ryuji asked, “We wait for Ren’s brother to come to us?”

Ren choked back a wail.

“I guess we really don’t have any other option, do we?” Ann smiled awkwardly.

.

If the Thieves thought they could get their leader to calm down while he waited for his brother to arrive at Leblanc, then they were sorely mistaken.

Sojiro stared incredulously at his charge, who was slumped over Leblanc’s counter and staring morosely into his cup of coffee like he wished he was holding something stronger to drown his woes in.

“What happened to him?”

“He said his brother arrived in Tokyo today,” Ann started, staring worriedly at Ren, “And he’s worried about what’s happening with his brother.”

“Correction,” Ryuji interjected, “He’s more worried about what his brother could be doing right now.”

“Alright.” Sojiro’s eyes flitted between the kids occupying his café, each of them looking about as clueless as he felt, “And why is that kid staring at the door like that?” Sojiro motioned to Yusuke.

“Oh.” Makoto blinked, “He heard that Ren’s brother looks just like Ren but without glasses and he’s been deep in thoughts since then.”

“I think I heard him mutter something about the appeal of twins and nude modeling,” Ann chimed in.

“Mutter?” Ryuji grumbled, “He declared it out loud for all of us to hear. With dramatic arm waving. It only caused this guy to freak out harder.”

Ren whimpered and buried his face in his hands, “Oh, god, I hope Akira hadn’t met someone who met me. I can’t even imagine the type of mess that will result from it.”

“Well, it’s not that bad, is it?” Ann asked, hiding a wince.

Ren raised his head and stared towards Leblanc’s entrance with a blank expression, “Knowing my luck, he probably met Akechi.”

.

(“I should have kept my mouth shut,” Ren would later lament.)

.

Goro halted in his footsteps as he spied Amamiya up ahead, standing in front of a bakery. The same bakery Goro had been meaning to visit.

Goro blinked; was he truly destined to continue meeting Amamiya by sheer coincidence?

He continued walking towards the bakery, intending to use the opportunity to talk with Amamiya, but when he neared him, he realized there was something different about Amamiya. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, for one thing, and for another, he was standing in a casual stance with a hand propped on his hip and the handles of his bag looped around his wrist. The bag was clearly empty of the cat that always accompanied Amamiya.

How… odd.

And curious.

Goro couldn’t stomp down on how the new appearance intrigued him.

“Amamiya-kun!” Goro greeted him as he approached him. Amamiya ignored him.

Goro’s smile twitched, and he had to resist the urge to use to his briefcase to clock Amamiya over the head.

“Amamiya-kun?” Goro repeated, this time with a stronger voice.

Amamiya blinked and slowly turned to face him, curiosity clear on his face, and his dark eyes, darker than Goro thought Amamiya’s eyes were (was it the absence of glasses?), piercing right through him; the new expression was so new on Amamiya’s usually passive face, and it made Goro repress a sharp inhale.

Amamiya adjusted his stance and turned his body to completely stare at Goro, slinging his bag over his shoulder while keeping the other hand on his hip where it was.

Goro immediately noticed something very important: Amamiya was wearing a skirt.

Then: Legs.

.

Ren shuddered, “I suddenly have a very bad feeling.”

Makoto turned to look at him, brow pinched, “What is it?”

“I just feel like the devil crossed paths with an unfortunate soul. And that I’m going to somehow regret it.”

The Thieves shared a look, not knowing what to do with that statement.

.

“Excuse me?”

Goro blinked, snapping back into awareness as he stared at Dayum Those Legs- err, the Amamiya clone, and smiled again, “My apologies, it seems I have zoned out for a moment.” Goro was about to ask the Amamiya lookalike about his name when the aforementioned hotti- lookalike stepped into his personal space with a grin on his face.

“Oh, you’re Akechi Goro, the second coming of the Detective Prince. A pleasure to meet you in person, Tantei-san.” The lookalike’s voice dropped into a seductive purr, and Goro had to swallow thickly and banish all unnecessary thoughts wondering about the stranger’s voice to the deepest recesses of his mind.

“You… seem to have me at a disadvantage.” Goro smiled awkwardly.

“You were calling out to me earlier, yes?” The stranger leaned in closer to Goro, causing Goro to lean back, “Amamiya, was it?” The stranger’s eyes glinted, his grin stretching into something wicked that turned Goro weak in the knees.

“Ah! You simply share a striking resemblance to a person I met before.”

“And you assumed I was that person?” The stranger stared at him from beneath his eyelashes, “My name is Kurusu Akira, Tantei-san, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Goro gulped harder.

.

“It’s not like I hate my brother.” Ren sighed, “He just… can be very overwhelming if you weren’t acquainted with him for a long time. I’m his twin brother and have known him since birth but I can still be overwhelmed by him.”

Ann patted him on the back.

“Look, I love my brother and all, but god knows he can very reckless. I’m glad our parents put their foot down and stopped him from dropping out of school so that he’d dedicate all of his time to looking into the assault charge. But I know my brother and he’s not the type to give up so easily. I’m worried about why he’s in Tokyo. He always has ulterior motives.”

As if on cue, the bell above Leblanc’s entrance jingled as the door opened and two people stepped in.

Ren’s jaw dropped, “Oh, god. Oh, god. I was afraid of this.” He snapped his jaw shut and buried his face in his hands for the umpteenth time that day and groaned.

At the entrance was his brother, with all of his distinguishing markers, from the near-exact physical similarity with Ren, the lack of glasses, the carefully hidden devious glint in his dark eyes, the disarming Pretty Aura, and the skirt, complete with a dumbstruck idiot dragged along to fulfill every one of Akira’s whims.

It just happened that this time, the aforementioned idiot was none other than the Akechi Goro, Blushing So Much It Couldn’t POSSIBLY Be Healthy Edition.

(Ren would like to disown his ‘rival’ thank you and good night- he didn’t need a rival who could easily succumb to Akira’s wiles. Even though Ren knew that was a criterion that was hard to meet.)

“Why.” Ren’s soul chose that particular moment to leave his body and ascend to higher planes of existence.

.

It didn’t take long for the group to center themselves around a booth; Akira sitting on one seat and pulling a non-protesting Akechi behind him to sit next to him before he latched onto him, causing the detective’s face to redden more, a fact Ren thought was not possible.

Ren sat opposite his brother with Yusuke next to him, and Makoto, Ryuji, and Ann standing near the end of the table, with Makoto keeping a tight hold on Yusuke’s shoulder to prevent him from jumping over the table, grabbing Akira, and dragging him to sit next to Ren (Yusuke was very adamant about the twins modeling).

Ren inhaled and exhaled before he sent a particularly stern look Akira’s brother, “Onii-chan.”

Akechi seemed to not notice what Ren just called Akira or he was acting like he wasn’t, it was hard to tell, what with the blushing and dazed look.

“Ren-chan!” Akira cooed, “It’s so nice to see you after such a long time! I missed you!”

Ren faltered a bit and coughed into his fist in embarrassment, a blush coloring his cheeks, “I… I missed you, too.” Ren then shook his head and plastered back his previous Unimpressed expression, “Don’t think you can distract me that easily!”

Akira pouted.

“What are you doing in Tokyo?”

“Visiting you, of course,” Akira responded promptly, a smile on his face.

“Then why, pray tell, didn’t you tell me before hand so that I can pick you up?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You could have easily gotten lost, you know!”

“It’s all alright, in the end. After all, I met such a prince charming who was so good to me.” Akira leaned into Akechi and rested a hand on the detective’s chest, “He was so kind and gentle, so understanding and sweet, and helped me find my way here.”

From the look in Akechi’s eyes, Ren confirmed that Akira was pretty much stripping Akechi of all of his coherent thoughts until it reached a point that Akechi would happily let himself be physically stripped of his clothes by Akira.

Akechi didn’t deserve such cruelty inflicted upon him, no matter what.

“And what about your sleeping arrangement? I know you, and I know there is no way you would just be satisfied with staying here for just a couple of hours.”

“It’s okay, I would have figured something out, eventually.” Akira raised his hand from Akechi’s chest to cradle his cheek, and tilted his head up so that he can press a kiss to Akechi’s cheek, “Tantei-san would not have minded allowing me into his bed for the night, isn’t that right, Tantei-san?”

Oh, god, Akechi looked like he may just as well shutdown right where he sat. Ren winced; the poor thing didn’t deserve this.

“No!” Ren shook his head, “You won’t be seducing your way into other people’s bedrooms!”

Akira opened his mouth, clearly to coerce Ren to change his mind, but he was interrupted by Sojiro, who’d made his way from behind the counter while the two ‘talked��, placing a cup of coffee in front of Akechi with more force than necessary.

“You’re going to be staying the night with your brother, and that’s final.” Sojiro’s frown was severe as he stared Akira down.

Surprisingly, Akira didn’t protest any further, detaching himself from Akechi and nodding, “Alright…”

Ren stared at Sojiro in awe; he’d made Akira back down, no one succeeded in making Akira back down before, “Where can I sign myself up as a devout follower of Sojiroism?”

Sojiro sent Ren an incredulous look and sighed, “Brat, do you even hear what you’re saying?”

Akechi seemed to have used the opening provided for him by Akira not being pressed flush against him to regain his presence of mind.

“Ah, excuse me, I…” He stumbled out of the booth to stand up, “That was embarrassing, my apologies, I…” He glanced at Akira, who was giving him an innocent, wide-eyed look, and his cheeks flared red again, “I- I need to go. Now.” Akechi turned around and all but fled Leblanc.

Makoto, Ann, and Ryuji stared after him in shock while Yusuke hummed thoughtfully.

Ren sighed, feeling the events of the day catching up to him, “Thank you for coming over today, guys, I’m sorry for bothering you all like this.”

Ann smiled at him, “It’s alright, Ren, you always help us out, this is the least we could do.”

“Dude.” Ryuji grinned widely at him, “It’s what friends are for, am I right or am I right?”

Makoto nodded, looking momentarily taken aback at what Ryuji just said, “Friends… yes…”

“It was a highly interesting confrontation,” Yusuke mused and Ren smiled fondly at him.

“Emphasis on highly interesting,” Morgana muttered from underneath the table.

“And you are Ren’s friends, hm?” Akira leaned forward on the table and looked from one Phantom Thief to the other.

“Oh, I’m Sakamoto Ryuji.” Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit flustered under the intensity of Akira’s stare. Ren figured Ryuji just found out why Akechi was a mess when Akira dragged him in.

“I’m Takamaki Ann.” Ann seemed to be handling Akira’s presence much better than Ryuji, as she didn’t look flustered or nervous.

“I’m Niijima Makoto,” Makoto introduced herself.

“And I’m Kitagawa Yusuke.” Yusuke inclined his head.

“Ah, yes.” Akira nodded, and Ren had the urge to slam the table down on his brother’s head, “The lucky boyfriend.” Akira grinned, his eyes trained on both Ren and Yusuke, both of them blushed and ducked their heads.

Ryuji looked between the three of them before he stood up, loudly declaring that he needed to go.

Ann shook her head and turned to Makoto, asking her if she was free to go have crepes with her, and Makoto accepted her invitation.

With that, the three Thieves beat a hasty retreat.

Yusuke stood up as well, “I shall see you tomorrow as well.”

Ren smiled softly at him, easily noticing lingering traces of the blush on his cheeks when Yusuke leant down to press a kiss to Ren’s cheek.

After his boyfriend left, Ren turned to Akira, “Now, that you drove all my friends out with your sheer presence alone, we should head upstairs to settle you for the night.”

“Lead the way, brother dearest.” Akira climbed to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder and staring expectantly at Ren who gave Sojiro a nod.

“Good night, Boss.”

Sojiro merely raised an eyebrow, “Don’t kill each other.”

“We won’t.” Akira bowed his head.

Ren turned to the stairs, beckoning Akira to follow him, and headed to the attic, Morgana shooting up the stairs ahead of him.

Once the two arrived at the attic, Akira dropped to the couch and lazily crossed his legs.

“So, the detective,” Akira started, “That’s one person I didn’t expect to meet.”

Ren sat down on his bed with Morgana curled next to him and watching Akira attentively; Ren gestured for Akira to go on.

Now that the two were alone in the attic, Akira shed his public mask and started on the important topic right away, face set in a blank expression and eyes compelling Ren to not even dare look away.

(For all that Ren was the leader of the Phantom Thieves, the one they listened to and followed, the one they kept their attention on, it was Akira who commanded the attention of those around him with a flick of his wrist.)

“It makes me curious about what would interest the detective in you. Have you two talked at length before?”

“No.”

“Hmm.”

“Why the questions?”

“You know why.”

“I know.” Ren sighed, “But like I told you before, I can manage my probation by myself-“

“Like you managed Kamoshida? And Madarame? And I’m also curious about the mob boss who was blackmailing students from your school, Ren. I’m worried about you.”

“I know that.” Ren stood and walked towards Akira to sit down next to him and lean into him; Akira responded immediately by wrapping an arm around him. “Onii-chan, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You’re not. But that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help anymore.”

“Is this about the assault charge?”

“Yes. Of course it’s about the assault charge, it will always be about the assault charge until it no longer looms over your head. I know you, Ren, and I know how things went during the procedurals regarding your charge. Both of us know it’s false. Both of us know what it means for you to have a criminal record.”

“And what are you going to do?”

Akira grinned at him, a sharp thing with too many teeth, a grin that Ren knew that his own lips were pulled into half a mimicry of it.

“Look into it, of course. And now I know where I can find a detective.”

.

End

Anyone here who is in the KHR fandom and may be interested for a KHR rare pair week please check out @khrrarepairweek on tumblr when you have the time ^^

[ellana-ravenwood]

please write more bruce wayne !!! 😩🙌🏽

And here some more Bruce Wayne ;) : 

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

______________________________________________________________________

Beach Bod’  - Bruce Wayne x Reader

You hated sand. You just couldn’t stand it. It got everywhere, it iritated your skin…it was just awful. So, obviously, when your family FINALLY could get all together, you decided a day at the beach was a good idea. Alfred made a nice pic-nic, and you all left for a secret spot you knew, where, even though it was a wonderful summer day, you knew there wouldn’t be anyone. You had a nice family lunch made of Al’s great sandwiches and salads. You bitched about sand getting in your food, and your sons and husband just kept mocking you for your grumpiness. You were the one who always smiled usually, and also, you suggested you should go to the beach so…But still, fuck sand.

At the present moment, your boys, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian, were trying to drown their father. How cute. Of course, they were not really trying to drown him, they were just having fun…you hoped. You had to give Bruce credits though, he was alone againts four teenage boys very much in shape, and still managed to keep his head out of the water. It was nice to see all of them relaxed, laughing, splashing each others and not actually trying to kill each other or brooding.

The boys finally came up with a strategy the four of them together to be able to duck their father’s head in the water. Dick held onto one of Bruce’s leg, while Jason was holding the other. Tim used Damian as a battering ram, and threw him as hard as he could in his father’s chest.

You winced a bit, not liking when they played too rough. Bruce gasped, the air knocked out of his lungs, and fell backward into the water. Tim held Damian above his head like a trophy, and your youngest boy exploded in laughter, which rarely happened. You wished it happened because of something else though, you couldn’t help but think he was laughing because he thought hitting his father in the guts was extremely funny…

Bruce surfaced, half laughing half in pain.

-I think I’m done for now boys…

They whined, wanting their dad to stay and play, but he was adamant on the fact he needed some rest. They got over it quickly, as Tim climbed on Jason’s shoulders, and Damian on Dick’s, preparing for a fierce battle.

Bruce walked towards you, and you couldn’t stop from staring at him. You had been together for years, but man his body was ridiculous. The all six packs thing, broad chiseled chest, sexy back muscle rolling as he was stretching, muscled thighs…Perfect beach body. The man was working out. A lot. You loved to sit on his back and read while he was doing push ups.

He laid on the towel besides you his arms coming to his face to shield his eyes from the sun.

You placed a hand on his abdomen, gently rubbing it as if to soothe the hit he took moments ago.

The corner of his mouth went up in a smile, but he didn’t move, breathing softly. You almost thought he had fallen asleep, even with the rauckus your children were making a few feet away, but when you took your hand off of his belly, he caught it and dragged you down to him.

Sand flew everywhere, and even with the lips of your husband on yours, tongue trying to slip in, you were not happy. He noticed, and pulled away, raising himself on his elbows.

-Sand ?

-Yes, sand. Fucking sand.

He laughed.

-I think I’ve never met someone hating sand as much as you…

-Anakin Skywalker is agreeing with me.

-What ?

-In Star Wars episode two, he…

-I’m sorry I don’t speak to people who acknowledge the existence of modern Star Wars films.

He said as he laid back down, your hand in his. You couldn’t stop the smile creeping on your face. You both hated episode 1 to 3, and it was a running joke between the two of you that those films didn’t even exist. Ignoring as best as you could the sand sticking to your legs, you rested your head on his chest, drawing abstract patterns on it with light fingers.

-Episode seven isn’t that bad.

-They killed…

-Yeah yeah I know who they killed, don’t open the wound back baby.

He chuckled, and tangle one hand in your hair. The water was already drying from his body, and you mourned the lost of the freshness of it. He noticed your small sigh, and, putting his free arm under his head, raised his head to look at you.

-What is it darling ?

-I’m a bit too hot.

-You’re very hot.

He winked at you, and pinched your ass, and you hit him weakly on the chest.

-Seriously though, if you’re too hot, just get in the water. It’s nice and fresh.

-No, because then…

-…The sand is going to stick to me and I hate sand, which is why I suggested coming to the beach with my love and my kids and…

-I don’t sound like that mister Wayne !

You exclaimed as you sat up, even if you had to admit though, you kinda sounded like that.  

He raised on his elbow once again and gave you his signature smug look.

-I’m going to kick you in the face Wayne.

-You wouldn’t reach it.

-You’re lying down.

-You’re really short.

This time, you punched him a bit harder in the chest, and though it didn’t hurt him, he acted like it did just to please you. You instantly felt guilty though, and after making sure you didn’t hit any of the bruises he got during his latest night patrol, you reached to stroke his cheek and mouthed the word : « sorry ». He gave you another smug look, and you knew that even if you’d hit him full force, he wouldn’t feel a thing. The man was a brick wall compared to you. And oh my God his smug face annoyed you everytime. You were about to smack him lightly when he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him once again, so fast that you fell over him and « accidentally » straddled him. You smile in the kiss as you felt his hand slowly roaming down your body.

-OH NO EW THAT’S SO GROSS GET A DAMN ROOM !!

Damian was just looking for a tuna sandwiche when he witnessed his parents starting to eat each other’s face…Or just, French kissing passionately, same thing for him really…His sandwiche dangling from his mouth, he made gagging sound as the two of you laughed lightly. But being the over-dramatic child he was, he went too far, and in a theatrical gesture, he threw just the tiniest amount of sand towards you, which landed in your hair.

Everyne froze. Dick, Jason and Tim half out of the water slowly went back in it, as if trying to get away from a wild animal.

Damian just stood there, sandwiche in mouth, slowly realizing what he had done.

And Bruce was ready to catch you and stop you from murdering your youngest son. You really REALLY hated sand. But against all expectations, you started to laugh loudly, of this cute laugh your husband loved so much, and that was too rare for his liking. Soon, laughter took over all of you, and you stood to try and get rid of the sand on you.

Bruce sat up and tried his best to stop the fit of laughter that took over him. He swore that no one but you was able to make him laugh like that, your laugh being so communicative. You gestured for him to get up, and soon his tall and large frame was towering over you, eyeing you with curiosity.

-Come in the water with me ? And help me take my revenge on Damian…

The boy heard you, and quickly abandoned his sandwiche, running back to his laughing brothers, hiding behind Dick and Jason. But it was no use, Bruce got rid of both the teenagers in a swipe of his arms, and you got a hold of your youngest, with the help of Tim, you dragged him under the water in another fit of laughter.

-Traitor !

Damian yelled at Tim, but he couldn’t quite act as mad as he wanted, because as much as he liked to deny it, moments like this, with all of you, were his favorites.

You gathered him up in your arms and squeezed him tenderly as he tried to wriggle out of your embrace. You gestured to the other boys for a group hug, and soon, Damian was screaming bloody murder as you all squeezed him in the middle of you.

With a gentle smile full of love, you let go of them, and went back to your husband who was a bit away, letting you and your sons having your moment. Bruce opened his arms for his own hug, and you gladly accepted. You didn’t had a lot of times like this, just with them, enjoying them without thinking about anything but each other’s company. You kissed Bruce’s chest, and he tangled once again a hand in your hair, as the other gently went down on the small of your back.

The boys were too busy fighting to comment your sapiness, and you just looked at them lovingly as you enjoyed Bruce’s embrace…until you felt his hand slid slowly in your panty. You eyed your sons quickly, they weren’t looking at you, and anyway, you were deep in the water enough for them not to even see anything.

-What are you doing Bruce ?

-Getting rid of the sand that got everywhere ?

You smiled mischievously, and shook your head, repressing a moan as he touched a particularly sensitive part. You took his hand out of your swimming suit.

-I’ll let you do that when it’s just the two of us honey. Now, carry me back on the grass, I really fucking hate sand, there’s no way I’m walking in it wet. It’ll stick…

Bruce smiled, and you climbed on his back. As you reached the grass, your head resting on his scarred shoulder, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating fast with happiness, and you already dreaded the end of the day, when you’ll have to get home and your boys will go back to their dark world. You suddenly remembered why you suggested the beach even though you hated sand…it was exactly for that, because it was sunny and bright at the beach, a nice change of pace…

You kissed Bruce’s shoulder, and you could see his broad smile from the corner of your mouth, forgetting about your somber thought. For the moment, you were just going to enjoy your boys, and hope to have thousands of other days like this one.