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lunarsands · 2 years

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Flower Husbands Week 2022: Day 1

Prompt: Vows

Setting: 3rd Life SMP

Characters: Scott Smajor, Jimmy Solidarity, GoodTimesWithScar, TangoTek, Grian

Tags: Fluff

(Also available on Ao3!)

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“You live with me, that makes us married,” Scott proclaimed blithely as they travelled through the forest.

“Technically I live across from you,” Jimmy pointed out.

“But the whole valley is mine. So, it’s ours. You married into that.”

Jimmy laughed. “Um, so, you just get to decide that? I didn’t have to say any of that ‘for better or for worst’ stuff or even ‘I do’? You say that, and it’s true?”

Scott paused, resting his hand on a tree as he looked back at the blond-haired man. “Do you want to?”

“Do I – what?”

“Say the vows to each other? There isn’t anyone to officiate, obviously, and we haven’t got rings, but we could give each other a piece of gold later when we mine some.”

Jimmy looked to the side, inexplicably nervous all of a sudden. “Is, ah, now the right time? I mean, we could wait until we do have the gold—”

“Are you getting cold feet on me already?” Scott laughed, but somewhere in the pit of his stomach he regretted making the joke in the first place.

“No, I just – ah—”

A third voice, full of all the charm in the world and then some, called out, “Did I hear someone say something about a wedding?”

“Scar—??” they both cried.

“Where did you come from?” Scott asked, then when he was greeted by the sight of red eyes and a grey complexion, he blurted, “Oh my god, you look terrifying.”

“What? Oh, yeah, I had a little accident. Well, a second accident, but I’m fine! Anyway, I overheard that you crazy kids want to get married! That’s so wonderful for you!”

Jimmy slid in hastily, “Oh, we’re already married—”

Meanwhile, Scott talked over him, “How did you even hear that, we weren’t anywhere close yet?”

“Oh, I have spies everywhere around here. We can’t be too careful with how everyone keeps coming for a piece of our desert.” Scar smiled for a brief, silent moment, then cracked under Scott’s frank stare. “Okay, no, I was behind you this whole time. I wanted to talk to you guys, but you were already leaving and you looked like you were headed this way anyway so I just followed you. I can officiate, by the way! I have those powers.”

Jimmy couldn’t hold in a laugh. “You have the blessing of the Minecraft gods? Learn something new about you all the time, Scar.”

“Technically I have the powers of an old wizard, but personally I think that counts. Do you guys want to be married by a wizard-turned-adventurer who happens to be down on his luck right now? I have a special rate for weddings at this very moment.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, barely able to contain a smirk. “How convenient for us. What would that special rate be? Let me guess, it involves diamonds.”

Scar turned a brilliant smile on him. “You’re very good at guessing games! For the bargain deal of only two diamonds – one for each of you – I will perform this service. Normally I would charge six diamonds, but the wedding business is a little slow lately.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Scott commented with amusement. “I think I might have two diamonds somewhere—”

“Wait wait wait,” Jimmy interrupted. He beckoned the cyan-haired man over closer and spoke quietly, “Are we really going to do this? I mean – Scar? Of all people? Can we expect this to be, like, legally binding, or whatever it is?”

Scar loomed behind him, butting in, “I can have Tango draw up a contract if you want! He’s good with that fine print kind of stuff. I’m good with documents, too, but if you want something in particular in writing from me, that could be a conflict of interests, so we should have a third party involved. Plus, we need a signature from a witness!”

“That— That’s not what I meant,” Jimmy stammered.

“Tango’s fine,” Scott agreed, non-plussed by whatever his blond-haired compatriot was concerned about. “I thought you would suggest Grian for that.”

“Well, Grian is my direct associate so that might also count as a conflict. I’ll go find Tango, and you can get your diamonds, and we’ll meet back here! Oh, you might want to include a tip for Tango, he probably charges for those document services, too.”

“How considerate of you to think of that ahead of time.” Scott then nodded. “All right, sounds fair. See you soon!” He turned and started back the way they had come while Scar trounced off in the direction of the Crastle.

“Scott?” Jimmy called after the cyan-haired man, not moving yet. “Scott?”

“Come on, Jimmy. You’ll need to get out your own diamond, since I’ll have to pay Tango.” He kept walking.

“Scott, I – I don’t know if I’m ready to – to…”

“To what? Commit it to writing? Settle down? You already gave me that poppy.”

Forced to follow before he got out of range, Jimmy jogged after him. “No, I just… Oh, I don’t know. It’s kind of like we just are together, we don’t need anything official.”

“How about just for the fun of it?” Secretly Scott was trying to think of other casual remarks to make that wouldn’t sound like he was trying to guilt Jimmy into agreeing; or give away that he was worried at all.

“Well, I guess so…” He caught up to Scott and when the cyan-haired man abruptly took his hand and squeezed it, he smiled.

~*~

Upon returning home they scrounged up three diamonds as well as two gold ingots, then returned to the spot where Scar had announced his presence. They found Tango waiting for them instead with a lectern beside him and several pieces of paper in his hands, a grin on his face and a gleam in his naturally-red eyes. “Gentlemen, thank you for this excellent business opportunity. You don’t often find people looking for legal services during a death game (although you would think that would make sense for transferring property and weapons after a point). Anyway, I just need you both to sign here and here before we go to the venue.” He held out a quill, which Scott practically snatched out of his hand.

“Hmm,” Tango ruminated, “I suppose this negates a groom seeing his partner until the ceremony, but we’re all running on a tight schedule right now anyway.”

Scott handed the quill to Jimmy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tango glanced over his shoulder. “Well, let’s just say Dogwarts isn’t invited to the party, and if they did catch wind of it, they might try to crash it. I’ve got someone running interference, though, so I think it’ll be fine.” He took the papers once Jimmy was done and looked them over, nodding his head several times. “Mm-hm, mm-hm, everything looks in order. I’ll add my signature as witness after the ceremony (which is when I expect payment) and you’ll be all set! This way, gentlemen.”

This time Jimmy went for the initiative and took Scott’s hand to squeeze, his expression a little sheepish as they followed Tango, but Scott grinned.

Directly opposite the trees at the beginning of the desert, Grian was putting the finishing touches on a sandstone archway, a makeshift fence-post lattice across the middle and flowerboxes full of white tulips around the bottom of each side. A tall table sat in the center with a vase of poppies in it. Jimmy could swear Scott’s eyes began to sparkle as he said, “Oh my gosh. This is perfect! Thank you, Grian.”

“No problem.” Grian smiled and waved off the compliment. Then he leaned in and whispered, “I can’t believe he only settled for two diamonds. I would have thought he would take you for twenty.”

Jimmy cast a horrified look around, hoping Scar wasn’t nearby to overhear and take up the suggestion. “Shh, not so loudly! He might change his mind!”

Grian laughed. “No, I wouldn’t worry. He’s been giddy about this the whole time. I think you made his day.”

It was then that Tango started waving his arms at Grian, hissing out, “Oop! Places, places everyone!” He grabbed Jimmy by the shoulders and directed him to one side of the table, while Scott took the hint and stood on the other. Grian stifled a giggle and stepped to the side behind Scott.

Scar appeared, dressed in a gold-trimmed purple robe over his torn adventurer’s outfit, carrying a book that shimmered with some enchantment. Jimmy also had to hold in a laugh, muttering, “Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, Scar, no, Scar, please. Why.”

Tango elbowed him in the back to get him to be quiet.

“Friends!” Scar began as he placed the book on the table. “Thank you all for coming here – or thank you to everyone who would be here, if it wasn’t for the strings of fate pitting us all against each other and forming rivalries that can’t be avoided for even ten minutes! We are gathered here to join these two lovely people in wonderous matrimony, for those very strings have brought them together so that they may share in the magic and adventure that comes with being alive, while it lasts.”

He gestured to toward the table. “If you would hold each other’s hands over this book for a moment, I have a poem to share, then we will continue the ceremony.”

Jimmy tried to get a glance at the enchantment as he held his hands out but all he saw was a series of asterisks before Scott clasped his hands between his own. The cyan-haired man was smiling softly, and so Jimmy presented a matching grin.

Scar theatrically cleared his throat then nodded at Grian, who took something from his pocketspace then dutifully stood in wait as Scar recited:

“A day in spring

An offering

Of flowers that the showers bring

I couldn’t ask for anything more

The moon is new

The sky is blue

A quiet table set for two

I couldn’t ask for anything more

A quiet night

The stars are bright

And I am here with you tonight

I couldn’t ask for anything more.

I can’t think of anything I’d rather do

Than think of the times that I spend with you

In the morning when the sun starts to rise

Throughout the day and under silent evening skies

I couldn’t ask for anything more

Than to spend the rest of my lives with you.”

Grian stepped forward and placed a flower crown on Scott’s head, then one on Jimmy’s, and then stepped back again. Scar nodded and placed his hands over the book as well. “And now I ask of you: do you promise to look after the flower fields, and tend the sheep, and forge your weapons for battle, standing together for as long as you can?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to bandage each other’s wounds and help each other stand back up if one of you falls?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to have fun together and share every moment of happiness, or even sadness, that chances to happen?”

“I do.”

“Then by the power invested in me as a wizard who, among other things, can invoke the unbreakable bonds of love, I now pronounce you: flower husbands! You may now kiss each other – but maybe make it quick because I think I see uninvited guests on their way.” Scar grabbed the book and tossed it to Grian, then, as Tango grabbed the vase of flowers, Scar picked up the table and ran to the border of the desert, pitching it into the trees and yelling about rude wedding crashers.

Scott and Jimmy ignored the shenanigans for a moment and shared a quick kiss. They forgot about the gold, but taking up a bow, arrows, sword, and shields seemed like the better idea.

~End~

[Post A/N: The poem Scar recites is a version of a song written by my uncle who unexpectedly passed away in Feb 2022. I found several songs in a box of his college papers while cleaning his house, and I hadn’t known he was an aspiring songwriter back then. The lyrics of this one stood out to me and I decided to use it here in his honor, with my own addition of the last line.]

#flower husbands week #flower husbands week 2022 #trafficshipping #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #3rd life smp #flower husbands my beloved #lunar yarns

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Erotica Explained

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer discovers his girlfriend’s writing.

A/N: Hey Heyyy- this is my twenty-sixth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! It’s based on this request- and I did end up using a small snippet from one of my other fics! Sorry this ones out late too lol had a very difficult day. Feel free to leave me an ask here (I promise I don’t bite) Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Sub!Spencer, Unprotected sex, A little bit of grinding, A little bit of overstimulation, Creampie

Main Masterlist Word Count:1.7k

I don’t use technology often, if I can help it I don’t use it at all. But, I had to use it right now, there was something I needed to look up on the computer. It wasn’t for a case or anything, I was just too curious and too impatient to wait to go to the library.

Because I don’t use technology often at all, I didn’t own a personal laptop. The only one I regularly used was the one I was given at work, and that was done begrudgingly. Though I couldn’t use that one right now as I was at my apartment I shared with my girlfriend. My girlfriend however, happened to have a laptop that she wouldn’t mind me using.

When I opened up her laptop, it was already unlocked with a tab already opened. My eyes unintentionally quickly glazed over the page, my eyes widening as I flitted across the page. It was some sort of story, one that contained things that made me blush. At the end of what was visible without scrolling down it read,

His fingers twitched at his side when you blew cool air onto his length, you sneered again, “If you touch me I’ll stop.”

My own trousers started to grow a little tight after reading that, then confusion made its way into my face, wondering what in the world I was reading. I clicked around, not really knowing what I was doing and I fell into a wormhole of reading. It wasn’t until I glanced up to see who owned the documents it all clicked together. They were my girlfriend’s stories.

They were her stories about a slew of characters that already existed in other media, the first one I had read even happened to be about a Star Wars character- Poe to be specific. Once it all clicked together I slammed the computer shut, feeling like I had invaded her privacy. Then I swiftly got into a cold shower, ready to freeze my arousal and wash off my shame.

—-

My foot was tapping even crazier than normal as I sat next to my girlfriend. We had decided on a night in, choosing to order take out and watch a few movies on a rare night off for me. It was her turn to choose, and unsurprisingly she chose Star Wars.

“What’s wrong?” She asked me when I started to basically vibrate when Poe came onto the screen. I couldn’t keep it in any longer, the guilt was eating me alive sitting here while I watched a constant reminder of what I read.

“I’m sorry-“ She was about to open her mouth to probably ask me why I was apologizing, but I steamrolled over it by ranting, “I looked at your writing- the erotica you write. I- I think it’s about already existing characters? Which I hadn’t heard about before-“

She finally did get a chance to cut me off by calling out my name, getting me to stop my nervous rant, “Are you mad- that I umm am writing about someone who’s not you?”

“No! It’s natural to be attracted to different people even while you’re with someone…” I was already falling down into another rant, this time however I caught myself and found the point I had been looking for, “I actually think it’s kind of hot.”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows had shot up almost high enough that they were up into her hairline. I flushed a little at that, feeling vulnerable under her gaze even though I knew she always kept me safe.

“I- um actually was wondering if you could do to me-“ The words died on my tongue when my eyes met hers again, and just by her eyes I could see that she knew what I wanted. She just wanted me to say it out loud.

“What do you want me to do to you?”

“Wh-hat I read- can you umm-?”

She didn’t let me stumble any longer, cutting off my stuttering, “You want me to do the things you read about to you?”

I nodded vigorously, but that wasn’t enough for her. She leaned forward, grabbing my cheeks between two of her fingers, then prompting me, “Use your words.”

I whimpered at that, remembering seeing it in one of her writings. I learned from the character, who had mouthed off in the fanfic, instead breathily answering, “Yes, I want you to use me like you wrote.”

Soon enough my clothes had been taken off by me as I had to follow her command to ‘strip’. She did so as well, then straddling me, starting immediately to grind on my cock. I moved my hands to her hips to try to get her to do something more, but they were quickly pushed off. She then pinned them above my head, leaning forward to whisper into my lips, “No you don’t get to touch unless I tell you too.”

“Yes, Miss!” I gasped out instantly, wanting to be perfect for her.

“Mmmm good boy.”

That made me keen even more, loving the praise she gave me a dash of, I craved her showering it onto me. She kept her course of action, grinding onto my cock until her own arousal completely soaked it. All it would take was for the head of my cock to notch at my entrance, she was so wet I could slip in easily. But, all I could do was wait until she let me have her. I’m sure if I begged she’d only smirk at me, so I kept my mouth shut and took what I was given.

She finally sunk down onto my cock, though it was excruciatingly slow. I tried to fight my instincts, keeping my hips flush with the couch so I wouldn’t get scolded for moving without permission.

When the backs of her thighs finally hit the tips of mine, I groaned unintentionally. She seemed to love it, starting to buck her hips enthusiastically at my response. My hands balled up into fists, knuckles turning white from how hard I was gripping them. It was taking so much to not cum already, her hands pinning me and how beautiful she looked above me making it overwhelming.

“Awww are you already so close? You love getting used like this don’t you?” She goaded once she realized how much I was fighting my release with my squinted eyes.

It took me a minute to find the words, as all my mind could focus on at the moment was how she felt around me. My IQ was completely slashed to 60, but I did eventually get out, “Yes miss”

She sped up her pace at my words, alternating from grinding down into me hard and bouncing vigorously on top of me. When she lent forward to give me a bruising kiss, she swallowed all the noises I was making, until she dipped her head down to mark up my collarbone. It was all too much; I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on.

“You’re such a good boy for me Spencer.” She gasped above me, writhing on my cock while she continued to bounce. It was getting so hard to bear, especially with more praise, but I wanted to wait until she came. She looked like a goddess, especially just as she was about to cum, which she soon signaled by saying, “Oh god baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

All I could do was watch as she removed one hand from where they were wrapped around my own to rub circles into her clit. She tipped her head back, mouth dropped open in a moan, and thighs shaking as her orgasm washed over her. She shook above me for a minute, hips stuttering as she tried to continue the pace she built while her orgasm was ripping through her. Once she had come down from her release she then focused on mine, building the pace back up to be even faster than her original one.

“Go ahead and cum baby boy.” With one more swivel of her hips, I fell off the edge at her command, filling her all the way up with my release. She held my hands up above my head still and still moved her hips while I rode out my high. When she stopped her movements once I whimpered loudly out of overstimulation, she finally let go of my hands.

I let myself relax as she slumped over onto me, resting her head onto my still somewhat heaving chest. With my hands once again free I wrapped my arms around her middle, entrapping her this time.

Looking up I then noticed the movie was still going, completely unobstructed by our actions. It was towards the end of the movie already, telling me how long we had been going at it. Though I didn’t care that I missed it, I got to act out a partial storyline from it, even if it was a made up one. The movie could only hold my attention for so long, there was someone far more interesting with me.

“So are you gonna write some with me?” She giggled out while tracing her fingers up and down my chest, lingering over my sternum. Her proposition was an intriguing one for sure, especially now that she explained some of it to me. Though, I think my writing style is more suited for more of an academic setting.

I snorted a little, giggling a little myself, then brushing my hair out of my eyes so I could see them more clearly. When I tipped her chin up with my fingers and their eyes met mine, they were full of mischief. She was definitely trying to get me riled up again, but I had a quip back of my own, “I don’t think I’d be good at it- but maybe you’ll let me read from now on? I wouldn’t mind editing some as well, it sounds fun.”

Ask Me Anything

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #mgg #mgg x reader #30 fics in 30 days

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fanfics4all · 3 years

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Arranged Marriage

Request: Yes / No

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Parkinson!Reader

Word count: 2320

Warnings: Nothing I think?

Y/N: Your Name

A/N: Possibly making this into a short series. Bingo card made by @slyttherins

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

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Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I had a free period and like most I spent it in the Great Hall reading a book. My slightly older sister was sitting with her friends at the other end of the table. They all hated me since I was the complete opposite of Pansy. She was mean, loud, had to be the center of attention, dramatic, and wasn’t incredibly bright. Despite all that I still loved her, even if I was one of her victims. The two of us only shared one thing, our crush on Draco Malfoy. Although she never knew about that and I would never tell her.

I was enjoying my book when a letter landed in front of me. I closed my book and glanced at it confused. My family’s owl sat on the table in front of me. I picked up the letter with my family’s crest stamped in emerald green wax and opened it.

‘Y/N,

Your Mother and I decided to arrange a marriage for you. We are concerned that if you make a decision like this on your own, you will make the wrong decision. It is no secret that we are disappointed in your association choices. Because of that, you are going to marry Draco Malfoy. Next time you return home, you will be engaged. Once you both graduate you will be married and produce heirs for both our households. This is to ensure the blood-line.

~Philip’

I stared at the letter with wide eyes. I glanced over at Draco, who was reading a letter of his own. I turned my attention back to my book and decided to ignore the letter until I returned home.

“What’s in the letter Drakie?” Pansy asked and I rolled my eyes at her horrid nickname for him.

“Nothing, just Father informing me of a dinner party we’ll be having next time I return home.” He answered her. I was surprised he didn’t tell her, or maybe his family didn’t tell him his fate yet…

Later that night, after all classes and dinner had been finished, I was sitting in the corner of the common room working on homework. It was really just me in here, besides a few first years. However, when the door opened and Draco walked in everyone’s eyes were on him.

“Everyone out.” He said and all the first years scurried off to who knows where. I simply stayed in my place, ignoring his command.

“Parkinson.” He said and I glanced up to find him standing in front of me now.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“I’m sure you got a letter telling you about our situations as well.” He said and I simply nodded. So he did just choose not to tell my sister. Interesting…

“You better not tell anyone about this.” He said and I looked back down at my homework.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” I said, simply.

“Because if you do- wait, what?” He asked, cutting himself off.

“I said I wasn’t planning on it. My Father didn’t tell my sister for a reason and honestly I’d rather her not know until it’s too late. I don’t need her bullying to get any worse, or yours for that matter. So, we can just pretend it isn’t happening until the dinner, then we’ll figure it out from there. I wouldn’t want to stain your reputation you’ve worked so hard to preserve.” I said, not even sparing him a glance. I wanted him to know I didn’t care, even though I was a bit excited to be marrying him.

“Um, right. Well then, till the dinner.” He said and left me to be.

The months leading up to the dinner felt like nothing had changed. I suppose nothing has changed yet. Draco was still a bully along with his friends and I was their helpless victim. My sister still clung to Draco any chance and he was still annoyed by her actions. A very small part of me wanted to rub it in her face that I was the one to be marrying him, but I wasn’t that type of person. When it was finally time to return home for a short time, I spent the whole train ride thinking about the dinner to come. When everyone stepped off the train, Pansy hugged Draco goodbye and then she made her way over to our parents.

“Girls! How has school been?” Mother asked with a smile.

“It’s been alright, that Potter boy is incredibly annoying. Just because he ‘survived’ the Dark Lord’s attack he’s special? He was a bloody baby.” Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

“He doesn’t want the fame.” I said.

“You would know, traitor!” She hissed.

“Enough girls!” Father said and I bowed my head.

“Sorry Father…” I said, even though I never truly did anything wrong I always felt like I needed to apologize constantly.

“There will be no fighting while you are home, is that understood?” He said.

“Yes Father.” We said in unison.

“Good, now let’s go home.” He said.

A few days had gone by and my parents hadn’t mentioned anything about the dinner to me. I was sitting in the den reading, while my Mother was having a cup of tea and my Father was reading the paper.

“Pansy, come down here please!” Father called her.

“Yes?” She asked, walking into the room.

“Aunt Paisley wanted to take you shopping tonight, would you like to go?” He asked.

“Is Y/N coming?” She asked.

“No, just you.” He answered and her eyes lit up.

“Really? Just me and Auntie?” She asked and Father nodded.

“Oh yes! I’d love to go!” She said and rushed upstairs to get ready.

“Hurry dear! Your Aunt is already waiting for you!” Mother called.

“I’ll be finished in a moment!” She called back. Sure enough after ten minus she was back downstairs, dressed to go out. It was the fastest I’ve ever seen her get ready.

“Right, take some floo powder and go to her house, she’s waiting for you there.” Father said and she nodded.

“She said you can stay the night if you’d like.” Mother mentioned.

“Oh yes please!” Pansy said, happily. She gave me a nasty smirk before taking some powder and saying our Aunt’s house. Off she went to have a nice night out with our Aunt.

“Now, you go upstairs and get ready, your Mother picked out a dress for you to wear tonight.” Father said and I looked at my parents confused.

“Ready for what?” I asked.

“The dinner, we’re going to Malfoy Manor.” He answered and I was even more confused.

“Why isn’t Pansy coming?” I asked.

“Because, as much as we love your sister, we don’t want to hear her complain about your engagement for the rest of our lives. So she’ll find out when we’ve already planned the wedding and you two are getting married.” He answered and I couldn’t hold back my smile.

“You’re lucky Draco didn’t tell her when he got his letter.” I said, placing my book on the table and went off to my room. Laying on my bed was a simple emerald green dress, with a slit down the side, and silver accents on both wrists. There were a pair of simple silver heels to match. I smiled at the outfit, it was really quite beautiful. Once I was dressed I did a simple spell to get my hair and makeup perfect.

I walked downstairs and my parents were both ready to go. My Mother offered me her hand which I accepted and the three of us apparated to Malfoy Manor. The sky was already starting to darken, but the sun still peaked out, giving the sky a beautiful painting of pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows. We walked up the steps and my Father knocked on the door. A house-elf answered and I smiled, earring a glare from my Father. I bowed my head, he never liked how well I treated them. He always said those creatures deserve no kindness. I thought differently, house-elves deserved plenty of kindness, after all they’re very helpful. I always snuck into the kitchen at night and had lovely conversations with our house-elves, being careful not to catch the attention of anyone else in the house.

“Mr. Parkinson, Mrs. Parkinson, Miss. Parkinson, please come in.” The little house-elf said.

“Wolkey will inform Master of your arrival.” He said and left to get the Malfoys.

“Ah, Philip, Oliva, Y/N, so glad you could make it.” Lucius said while shaking my Father’s hand.

“What a lovely dress Y/N, don’t you think so Draco.” Narcissa said, gently nudging her son.

“Yes, it’s a very lovely color on you.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Thank you.” I smiled.

The dinner was normal, our parents discussing business relations while Draco and I simply ate. It wasn’t until dinner was cleared and dessert was being served that the atmosphere changed.

“I believe Draco has something to ask you Y/N.” Narcissa said with a smile. Draco cleared his throat and walked over to me on the other side of the table. He gently grabbed my hand and kept his other in his pocket.

“Y/N, we’ve known each other since we were children and you’ve always been such a beauty. We’ve been friends for a while, but now I feel we should be more. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” He asked. I could tell they weren’t his words, but they still made my heart flutter. Everyone looked at me expectantly, like I could say anything other than yes.

“Yes Draco, I’d love to.” I smiled. Draco smiled and took out a sliver snake ring with a small emerald, the Malfoy family crest engraved on the bottom.

Draco took my hand and placed the ring on my finger.

“Draco, why don’t you take Y/N into the garden, I’m sure she’ll love it.” Narcissa said and Draco nodded. He gently helped me up and led me outside to the porch, looking over the garden.

“That was all my Mother.” He stated as soon as we were away from our families.

“I know.” I smiled at him and he looked at me confused.

“How can you smile in a moment like this? You’re being forced into a marriage.” He asked confused.

“I can tell you Mother picked out all the flowers.” I said, changing the subject. Before he could say anything I walked down the steps into the garden.

“Hey! Wait!” He said and followed after me.

“Will you answer my question?” He said, slightly annoyed.

“Have you ever looked around here and really took notice of the beauty in your backyard?” I asked.

“I’ve looked around here plenty if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh look, you have some wilting flowers.” I frowned. I kneeled down and cupped the flowers gently.

“What are you doing? You’ll get your dress dirty.” He said, but I ignored him.

“Herbivicus” I whispered and the flowers grew to their original form. I stood up and smiled, glancing at Draco who had a shocked expression on his face.

“Where did you learn that?” He asked.

“A book I read.” I answered.

“You learned that just from a book?” He asked.

“Yes, I have an eidetic memory. I remember everything I’ve read or what people have said to me.” I answered and looked down at my dress. There were some dirt spots, my parents would be upset with me.

“Scourgify” I said and my dress was good as new.

“The reason I can smile about our situation is because I’ll be making my parents proud for the first time since they’ve heard I’m friends with people they call traitors. I love my family, even my sister, shocking as that is, family is important to me and I’d like to make them proud of me. So if marrying you is what it takes then so be it. Perhaps we could even fall in love with each other, or even just be friends.” I finally answered his question.

“You really are quite strange, aren’t you?” He said after a moment.

“I just think on the positive side.” I smiled at him.

“We can’t tell my sister until the very last minute, by the way, my parents don’t want to hear her complaints.” I mentioned and he gave a light chuckle.

“I suppose even they don’t enjoy her company.” He said and I shook my head.

“They love her, but yes, sometimes they don’t enjoy her complaining.” I answered.

“How are you going to explain the ring?” He asked.

“A surprise gift from my Aunt, that’s where Pansy is right now.” I answered and he gave another light chuckle.

“Smart.” He said.

“What if she tries to take it from you?” He asked.

“You know my sister well.” I giggled.

“My Father is going to spell the ring so only you or I can take it off. And if I need to take it off for whatever reason I have a spelled jewelry box, she’ll need my voice, DNA, and wand to get it open.” I answered with a smirk.

“Very smart.” He said, slightly shocked.

“I like to take caution when it comes to my sister. It’s a very beautiful ring, thank you.” I smiled.

“It’s tradition that the Malfoy proposing makes a special ring with the crest engraved on it. My Mother had it made, but asked for my opinion before it was finished.” He said and I smiled at him.

“Still think this is a bad thing?” I asked.

“Suppose there could be worse people to be forced to marry…” He said.

“I’ll take that as a complement.” I said and stared down at the ring that fit perfectly on my finger. This was really happening. I was going to marry Draco Malfoy.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @in-slytherin-we-trust @accio-rogers @sambucky8 @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @vanessa-kom-skaikru @impulse-anchor @dracoswhvre

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onebizarrekai · 4 years

Text

v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

#god I keep telling myself I'm gonna stop rambling about v3 #v3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #random stuff #but making this… it sounded so fun #danganronpa

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spacedikut · 4 years

Text

spooky scary skeletons ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: spencer has the prettiest face you’ve ever painted on. 1626 words

a/n: a poorly edited, poorly written and late halloween thing! inspired by idmakeitbehave (go read everything theyve ever written ever) because they have the BEST meet cutes and every time i think of them i :-)

masterlist

The haunted mansion of the fair, overflowing with screams, the sound of chainsaws and the evil cackle your friend has been rehearsing in the mirror all month, stands tall behind you like the looming presence it is. It’s brought great entertainment for you, watching and hearing the reactions of those that dare enter.

You’re set up not far from the exit of the house with your array of face paint around you, paintbrush in hand. Most of your customers are children – this year’s most popular request is pumpkin, last year was skeleton – and as much as you love spookiness and gore and everything in between, the rush of pride you feel when a little girl gasps and thanks you with the sweetest voice when you show her your finished work is unmatched.

You’re not the least surprised that your clientele is mainly children. There’s the odd parent here and there that is persuaded to get a black cat on their cheek, or some fake blood coming from their eyes and mouths, but they never venture beyond the small request.

Until him.

He’s marched up to you by his friend who, wearing a dress covered in fake spiders and cobwebs, pushes him by the shoulders right up to the foldable chair that’s placed opposite you. You’re drying off a wet paintbrush, glancing up when you hear the crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

“My friend would like his face painted.” She tells you.

“Of course,” You gesture for him to take the seat in front of you, the compliment slipping out after giving them both a once-over. “I like your outfits.”

“Oh!” The girl grins. “Thank you. I’ve been waiting all year to wear it. And he,” She points to the still-silent customer who hasn’t taken his eyes off you once, “Is more obsessed with Halloween than anyone I know.”

Looking at the bright orange pumpkin-covered sweater he’s wearing, you’re overcome by the urge to touch it – and his hair, with the way it’s all squiggles and curls and seems so soft. “What can I do for you?”

The first time he speaks, it’s after he takes a deep breath and rubs his palms on his trousers. “A skeleton, please.”

You’re already arranging the colours you’ll need, missing how the girl slips away, too busy asking the usual questions, “How big?”

“My entire face.”

That’s a new one. For an adult, at least. Usually all they want is an easy to clean, easy to hide image on their cheek.

It’s only then you really take in his appearance. In the dark, dusty light of the fair, he looks like a real life Tim Burton character – shallow eyes, sharp cheekbones, a general gauntness that you’ve only seen in fiction. He’s the perfect skeleton, if that isn’t weird to think.

“All over?” Your hand moves to gesture over your face, as if miming to him what all over really means.

“Yeah,” He nods, “I’m not that good of an artist, and my mask makes it kind of hard to see. So a skeleton is spooky enough but not a lot of work, right?”

“Right.” You smile at him. “Right, okay, let’s do it.”

The second the cold bristles dip into the paint before you, you’re absorbed in ensuring you do a good job. You’re used to working on children, so you naturally take hold of his chin to move his face this way and that way to apply a firm coat and get your lines right.

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” He mumbles.

You huff a laugh. He feels your breath on his lips. “Hi, Spencer, I’m Y/N.”

The customer – Spencer – wiggles his lips in a way that tells you he’s holding back a smile. You’re not sure what it is about him, but you like him. You like how still he sits, patiently letting you do your work, you like how much he seems to like Halloween (you refer to the sweater and the fact he’s about to cover his entire face in paint to look like a skeleton), and you like how his eyes on you make you feel. Because it doesn’t feel gross, or weird, like it normally does; it’s like his gaze is complimenting you silently, the intensity of it making you bite the inside of your cheek.

Small-talk comes naturally after hours of doing this job. “You mentioned a mask? What was it a mask of?”

“Michael Myers.”

“Oh,” You shiver, “I hate that guy.”

“The iconic mask is actually a William Shatner mask that’s painted white and changed to blur the resemblance to Shatner. Specifically, it’s a Captain Kirk death mask created for Star Trek.” Spencer tells you, giving a tight lipped smile when you pause for a second to take in the information.

“How does William Shatner feel about that?”

“Not great, probably. But, can you imagine being considered one of the stars of the Halloween franchise?” He’s giddy, almost wiggling in excitement. “I’d love to see people wearing my face every Halloween.”

You laugh at that.

A few more facts are spewed out while you mix black with a little bit of white to make grey, some you already know and some you don’t, but he’s still chattering on when you turn back to face him, ready to paint again.

The words die in his throat, however, when your hand finds home on the back of his neck, thumb hooking around to lift his jaw up. “Still, please.”

Even if he wanted to give an unnecessary apology, he wouldn’t be able to, as if his throat is full of sand.

It’s silent for a while, Spencer’s eyes trained on the twinkling night sky that sits calmly compared to the thundering of his heart, the scramble of thoughts in his head. When your hand moves away a few minutes later, his disappointed eyes fall back to your face, where he finds himself thinking, please do that again.

“Do you want the black on your eyelids, too, or just around your eye?” You ask over your shoulder, oblivious to the new slump in Spencer’s back.

“Eyelids, too, please.”

You smile to yourself at how polite he is. Spencer might be the sweetest person you’ve ever met and you’ve known him for twenty minutes.

By the time you’re done, you’ve decided Spencer is the best customer you’ve ever had and you’d give anything to replay this interaction again and again. He’s polite, listens when you ask him to turn a certain way or sit up (a surprising amount of adults simply do not listen), and brings the most interesting conversation.

Did you know the use of OMG can be traced back to 1917? Cause Spencer does, and he bestowed you with the same knowledge.

You’re impressed with yourself and Spencer’s brain when you finally lean back, checking for any spots you missed or parts you can fix.

Before you even reach for the mirror, Spencer’s interrupting you.

“Um… do I-do I look spooky?”

You face him, a pretty smirk on your lips, “Terrifying.”

When you hold the mirror up to his face, he barely spares himself glance (but it’s enough of a glance for him to think holy crap, you’re talented) and there’s a look in his eye – he’s hesitant. About what, you’re not sure.

You wonder if he can tell you don’t want him to go. You enjoy his company, you enjoy him, and you’ve never wanted to wipe your work off someone’s face so quickly just for an excuse to do it again until now.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks, reaching for his wallet but not leaving the chair.

Your eyes narrow for a split second as you weight your option. Then you think fuck it, and say, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You can, and you will.” You stand. “Consider it thanks for all the cool facts you gave me.”

He lights up when you say cool facts, and opens his mouth to again offer to pay when he’s cut off by a group of laughing teenagers flying out of the haunted house, the exit door slamming against the wood with a startling bang.

Spencer gets an idea.

Seeing you look at the house, he asks, “Have you been in yet?”

You shake your head. “No. Not yet. If I have time later, maybe-“

“Come in with me.”

His grip on his wallet is tight, channelling all worry into his fingers so he doesn’t stumble or say something stupid.

“It’s the least I can do, and it’ll be too scary on my own.”

He’s lying – the idea of going through a haunted house by himself sounds exhilarating, but he’s found an opportunity to not leave you just yet and he’s going to take it.

You consider him for a moment. It’s late, you’ve been painting faces all day, and the sweetest, most attractive person you’ve ever seen is asking you to join them in a haunted house on Halloween. What kind of person would say no?

“Okay,” You happily concede, “But don’t blame me if I end up clinging to you.”

The two of you join the line into the house, giggling when someone dramatically falls through the exit and gasps for air like he’s barely made it out alive. And when the next people to leave the house are a couple who hold eachother close and tight, hands intertwined and one with their head buried in the neck of the other, Spencer steps a little closer to you, hoping you get the memo that having you cling to him doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @fandommonium3267 @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @bitchyreids

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction #mine

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pfreadsandwrites · 3 years

Text

九つの命/9 Lives Translation

Hi!! So, @foxy-and-tales asked me to tell her what was going on in the comic mentioned in this post. After skimming through it, I thought it'd be good practice - and it'd be easier to answer her question - if I just went through it and told her what it all meant. I realised by that point I was doing a translation, and since I was going to the trouble anyway, I thought I'd post it publicly.

So, the full comic is here. It's basically a comic that has 7 little stories about Kakashi's ninja hounds and their lives with Kakashi. It's an adorable, heartfelt story and I absolutely love the personalities that the artist gave all the ninja hounds and the depictions of their relationships with Kakashi.

My translation will be this post, follow it as a script. I don't have the skill or knowledge to edit and typeset and change the images myself - and I wouldn't do that anyway, as it would involve reposting the art and changing it without the artist's consent. But I do think that not referring to the pictures as you're reading through the script really harms how sweet this story is, so if you can go through the comic slowly whilst referring to my (amateur) translation of it, I hope you can get a glimpse of that!

WARNINGS: There is a depiction of an already dead dog in part 4 😢, and some (human!) male partial nudity in part 6 (😉)

Tagging: @scaredlittlefoxy @lemony-snickers @backalleykat @whatshernameis @gwedosuns @topsyturvy-dream @ice-icebaby @cosmiclattes

This is also the artist’s note that follows after the comic, that I’m putting here:

(Artist’s note translation)

"This is a story about the daily life of Kakashi and the eight ninken.

The ninja dogs’ personalities etc mightn’t be faithful to the source material.

The dogs live free range in Kakashi’s house.

There is an illustration of a dog dying, though it isn’t any of the ninken. Please take note.

You don’t have to read it, but below this are the dogs’ personalities:

Shiba: Friendly and sensitive

Biscuit: Childish and Selfish

Akino: Calm and cool demeanour

Bull: Timid and Quiet

Urushi: Ladykiller. A little bit dim. (Note: Himbo!)

Guruko: Annoyingly helpful and naggy

Uhei: Pure-hearted and cheerful

Pakkun: Same as in the series"

Some notes and then onwards into the translation under the cut:

Please take heed before continuing:

I’m not a professional translator, in fact I’ve done very little of this, so there’s some guesswork and liberties taken, and I don't claim that that there’ll be no mistakes.

I’ve separated it out by sections and pages, so you should be able to follow the story from following the speech bubbles (right to left) and referencing the lines here by speaker

Each space between a line denotes that it’s the next speech bubble

A new line but no change in speaker will denote that it’s the same character talking, but in the next panel or speech bubble

Italics means the character is thinking or flashbacks. I'll try and make this obvious as I go but the artwork should make that clear too.

Brackets are my additions, or me translating things like signs etc, or brackets will have smaller background dialogue not in speech bubbles. I'll try to make this clear as I go.

Stuff surrounded by * denotes actions or onomatopoeic actions/words in panels

Ask me if there’s any parts that confuse you about the story!! The way I’ve done this isn’t easy to follow but it's the best my dumb brain could come up with

TRANSLATION:

Title page

(p.1)

ここのつのいのち

9 Lives

(p.2)

1. ‘I won’t tell anyone’

(SFX: dogs playing and wagging tails)

Kakashi: Hm? You’re not gonna play, Shiba?

Shiba: …No. …Hey, Kakashi’

Kakashi: Hm? What?’

Shiba: There’s a girl I like’

Kakashi: Ohhh… I won’t tell anybody.

I won’t tell ~ I won’t tell ~

(p. 3)

Shiba: She’s really cute…

Kakashi: That’s great ~

Shiba: But I haven’t even spoken to her once

Kakashi: You should go for it ~

(SFX: *happy dog panting*)

Shiba: I’ll come back as soon as I’ve talked to her!’

Kakashi: Yep!

Shiba: I’ll be right back, definitely!

Kakashi: Ok, ok (lit. Yes yes)

(p.4)

Shiba: She’s already got someone (lit. she’s already in a couple/has a mate)

Kakashi: I see…

Shiba: She said her mate hurt his leg and can’t walk so he's staying at home…

(p.5)

Kakashi: Shiba, you know.. have feet that can walk anywhere…

So maybe you’ll meet an amazing girl again, won’t you?

(*dog cries*)

Kakashi: ...I won’t tell anyone. (*Comforting doggy*)

I won’t say anything. I won’t say anything.

(Kakashi: Aw, Shiba is pretty sweet to me, huh?)

2. Biscuit’s Sausage (note: I know his name is technically Bisuke in Japanese, but Biscuit is his dub name and it’s too adorable so that’s what I’m going with here! Also suits the personality he has in this story. What a biscuithead this boy is)

(p.6)

Biscuit: -You’re so sneaky, Kakashi! I wanted to eat sausages!

*crying dog noises*

(Uhei: Sorry, Kakashi…

Guruko: I told you!!)

Kakashi: You know if you eat sausages, Biscuit, your tummy will get sick, right? I’m boiling cod for you right now

(*tantrum noises, pounding feet and barking*)

Biscuit: *angry puppy noises* I hate fish, you idiot! I said I want to eat sausages! Sausages! Sausages!

Kakashi: *sternly* Biscuit

Biscuit: *whimper*

(p.7)

Biscuit: Kakashi, you IDIOT!

(2. Biscuit’s Sausage)

Biscuit: *sniff*

(Sign says Konoha Pet Food)

Biscuit: This is the store that sells the dog food Kakashi buys! Wow, maybe they have sausages here too!

(p.8)

Biscuit: I wonder if I'll be able to eat as much as I want… *gulp*

But if I did that, Kakashi would get in trouble

No, maybe…

*heart pounding*

Kakashi kept it (this) a secret just from me, because I'll get sick...

(Apron says Konoha Pet Food)

Shop Lady: *shuffles*

Biscuit: I didn't do anything yet!!! * heart pounding*

Shop Lady: Oh my… you really just talked!

Shop lady: You’re Kakashi’s pup, aren’t you?

(p.9)

Shop lady: Kakashi got you to come here, huh?

(Shop lady: you’re a good boy!)

Bisuke: Oh, no-

Shop lady: Though, he shouldn't have made you come pick it up without contacting us, huh? Here, sausages!

Biscuit: Sausages?!

Shop lady: There’s a pup among you guys that can’t have normal sausages, right?

It was a request from Kakashi.

He said he wanted me to make some especially for the puppy who can’t handle meat.

(p.10)

Shop lady: Well, here you go!! You’ll tell Kakashi we’re sorry for making him wait, won’t you?

Biscuit: Oh, um… But I don’t have any money…

Shop lady: It’s fine, because it’s Kakashi!

Whenever he has free time, he comes to pay.

I have a deal with him, you see. And he can't get the food if he's not here...

Next time, come together with Kakashi, okay?

(p. 11)

Kakashi: *casually picks up Bisuke* Thank you! This is for you ~

Shop lady: Thank you, come again!

Biscuit: Kakashi…

Kakashi: Hm?

Biscuit: Sorry…

Kakashi: Yeah…

I’m sorry too. I gave everyone else sausages while keeping it a secret from you.

I thought you’d definitely want some if you saw…

(Kakashi: But I got caught.)

(p. 12)

Kakashi: But…. Everyone’ll want some if they see this, too.

How about stopping by the park and eating it there?

We’ll keep it a secret from everyone 😊

Bisuke: *happy face licking and barking* When we get home, I’ll eat the cod too!!

Kakashi: Uhh… Well, Uhei and Guruko already ate it…

Bisuke: WHAT?!!!

(Flashback, Uhei and Guruko saying ‘Cod! Me too!! Me too! I want to eat some too!’)

3. Kakashi’s smile

(p. 13)

*paws thudding on ground/running away*

Kakashi: …Got you.

Akino: Ack!

It’s always only me that you brush so roughly, Kakashi!

Kakashi: It can’t be helped, can it? You have the thickest fur, Akino

*brushing softly* It’ll be over soon, it’ll be over soon…

Other doggies: That seems nice to me, Akino…

Kakashi: Hey, it’s falling out, it’s falling out ~

Akino: !!!

Kakashi: Look, it’s a mini Akino!! So much fur…

Akino: That’s too much hair off the bottom, Kakashi! Wha…

(p. 14)

*Kakashi continuing to laugh at his mini Akino*

Akino: There are times now where Kakashi summons us, even if he doesn’t have any business for us to take care of…

(Back then) he never ever summoned us outside of missions…

(p. 15)

Akino: He was doing all kinds of things, but he was the kind of person who never had a smile on his face…

Kakashi: If I had more time, I could make an even hairier one, you know

(Other dogs: *laughing* Akino: That’s a lie!)

Akino: Kakashi…. You're having fun?

Kakashi: *genuine smile* Yep, I am!

Akino: *smile* If you feel like it, you can keep going…

Kakashi: Oh?

(Later, Akino notices Kakashi has put sunglasses on the mini Akino)

4. Timid Bull (CW Animal Death)

(p. 16)

Bull: I’m the last ninja hound that came to Kakashi’s home.

Before that, I was living in a training centre for ninja hounds.

(4. Timid Bull)

The dogs I lived together with there… were all adopted when they were puppies.

But I still lived at the training centre, even as I became fully grown.

Ninja Hey, that dog looks tough, doesn’t he?

Centre manager: Yes, but… he’s not all that suited for battling…

Despite how he looks, he’s actually a timid dog.

Bull: I… I’m scared of insects. I’m scared of noises.

I’m scared of blood.

Centre manager: Because he can understand the stories of troubled humans, you see…

Bull: I’m scared of anything other than myself.

(p. 17)

Bull: Nobody would want a dog like me, right?

Kakashi: I found a good boy ~

Bull: *panicking* There’s no manager here!

Kakashi: Hello ~

Bull: …Hello… *heart pounding*

Kakashi: Ah, one that talks, huh…

Would you like to become one of my pups?

(p. 18)

Bull: Me…? Me, really? Quit it… That’s enough joking around.

Kakashi: What do you mean?

Bull: No-one wants me (😢)

Kakashi: No-one?

I want you, though.

Bull: What kind of a strange person would want me, I thought

(p. 19)

Bull: There were lots of dogs at Kakashi’s house

(Happy barking doggy noises)

Uhei: Woah, you’re huge! But among these guys, I have the fastest legs, you know!!!

Guruko: And I have the best nose!!

Biscuit: And I’m whiny!! (Note: lit. ‘I’m selfish!’)

Shiba: I have the sharpest bite!

Pakkun: I am the wisest. (Note: Pakkun I think uses Kansai-dialect Japanese lol so he sounds kinda... distinct. This is hard to convey for me lol)

Urushi: I’m popular with the ladies ;)

(Akino: I’m the fluffiest!)

Bull: I was so confused

You… you’re not scared of me?

I’m huge, and I have a scary face… So no one comes near me.

They all said they weren’t scared.

The reason, they said together, was…

(p. 20)

‘Because Kakashi brought you, Bull!’

Everyone was totally relaxed, as if they had no worries at all.

They all clung to me as if it was completely natural to do so.

I realised that there’d always be someone beside me.

(p. 21)

*sounds of paws scuffling against ground in first two panels*

*jumping to the ground noise in third panel*

Kakashi: …Bull, this way is a dead end.

Bull: …Sorry.

I couldn’t go back to where you were, and I thought so, but -

(p.22)

Bull: *looking at dog* He asked me to stay by his side.

…He was an enemy, but he was already dying.

That’s why, Kakashi….

Kakashi: …Yep.

Let’s give him a send-off together.

(Note: this was a tricky one because Kakashi says 送る, which means send, and is used with mail etc, but can mean to say farewells to the deceased, which is why Bull comments on it on the next page)

(p. 23)

Bull: He wanted to say ‘I want to bury him’

But Kakashi said ‘send-off’.

Lightly, as if his life force was still there

There… there are a lot of things that scare me.

When I was waiting for this dog, I was scared.

But I couldn’t refuse his request.

(p. 24)

Bull: …I’m spineless.

Kakashi: Everyone else has lots of things they’re scared of, you know.

That’s why they all stay by your side, Bull.

If you’re there, everything will be alright. That’s how everyone feels.

If you’re close by, everyone’s able to feel safe.

(p. 25)

Kakashi: ….This puppy, too.

Dying dog: …Please…

Bull: That dog…

Dying dog: Stay with me, until the end…

Kakashi: Because you stayed with him, Bull, he felt at peace, didn’t he?

Bull: I don’t think that dog was happy…

…Kakashi.

He was very thin, and he also smelt like he was sick

To protect themselves, his owner didn’t treasure this [this dog’s] life.

Kakashi, I…

Somehow, I..

I’m very…

(p. 26)

Bull: I wanted to cry out as loud as I could..

Kakashi: Yeah… (I’m not sure who’s saying this line)

Bull: For feeling guilty towards that dog, and for knowing Kakashi…

For my life being here now.

For my life, I wanted to cry it out until the blood came out of my throat.

(p. 27)

Bull: That dog…

I wonder, was that dog ever able to feel like this, even once?

(Flashback) Doggies: Because Kakashi brought you, Bull!

Uhei: Hey!!! Bull!!

Shiba: You’re late!!

I was worried, you know!

Guruko: (to others) Hey, Bull came back!!

Bull: I’m Bull. The dog that Kakashi found.

5. Urushi’s scales

(p.28)

Urushi: I think I’m good looking

(5. Urushi’s scales)

Girl pups: Ahh~ Urushi…~

Urushi: I’m popular with the ladies

(note: he uses メス, which means bitch in the literal sense - a female dog - and all the puppers use it to refer to human women too. So I just left it as ladies, as I don't think the pups mean it to be crass, they just use dog language and apply it to humans as well as themselves)

Sometimes I’m told ‘it’s probably because you’re one of Kakashi’s ninken’, but…

(Background lettering over the other dogs says ‘Unstylish/Uncool/Lame’)

But my other friends aren’t all that popular, really.

Still, I think it’s because I really am good-looking after all.

(Choruses of ‘Urushi~’, ‘Ahh…; and ‘Let’s play together, Urushi)

Urushi: Hehehe…

Being good-looking is a great thing.

Guruko: Hey, Kakashi!

(p. 29)

Guruko: You got hit by a girl again, didn’t you?!

Kakashi: *laughing* No…

Akino: Why were you hit by a girl? Do girls not like you?

Uhei: It looks like it hurts…

Kakashi: Nooo ~

Shiba: You’re so strong, Kakashi, why were you hit?

Biscuit: You couldn’t avoid it?

Guruko: *Steam from nostrils* I’ll fight her for you!

Kakashi: It’s fine, it’s fine ~

What are you saying?

(p. 30.)

Urushi: Kakashi said ‘I took responsibility’.

Sometimes humans say things I don’t understand…

Girl dog: Urushi… pair up with me.

Urushi: If Kakashi’s saying it, it must be important…

Be… Because I’m one of Kakashi’s ninken?

Girl dog: It has nothing to do with that. I like you, Urushi

Urushi: Wow… *heart pounding*

Girl dog: Pair up with me, and…

I want you to leave the ninken. (Lit. Stop being a ninken)

(p. 31)

Girl dog: I love you, Urushi, but what if, on a mission, you…

I can’t stand the thought of that!

Leave the ninken, and… always stay in the village with me?

Urushi: This girl’s a beauty, and has a kind personality…

I think that I might want to be with her…

Should I leave the ninken?

(p. 32)

Urushi: *perplexed*

Kakashi, Bull and Biscuit: *zzz, sleeping sounds*

Urushi: If I said I wanted to leave the ninken…

Kakashi: (in Urushi’s imagination) If that’s what you want, Urushi

It’s fine with me! (Background: It would be a shame, though…)

Urushi: I feel like Kakashi would say something like that…

Do I want to do that…? Not really, but… *sigh*

Hey, Pakkun.

(p. 33)

Pakkun: Something bothering you?

Urushi: Yeah, there is

I have to decide between two things, but it’s difficult…

I want both of them, but I can’t have them.

Pakkun: … Is it a girl problem?

Urushi: Yep ~

Pakkun: That’s just like you, Urushi. (Pakkun’s imagination shows two girl pups arguing:

Urushi!! Which one will you choose, me or her?! *indignant barking*)

When making a decision about something, one needs to think about what’s most.

...important to oneself.

Let’s say you balance both sides on your scales…

Urushi: My scales?

Pakkun: For example….

(p. 34)

It’s not the physical weight, but the weight of what you think is precious and important. It’s the weight of those feelings.

If you think about which is heavier, you’ll find the answer.

Kakashi: You guys are having a kinda complicated conversation, huh…?

Pakkun: Oh, Kakashi, you woke up, did you?

Urushi: *heart pounding*

Kakashi: My scales lean towards sleep, you know..

Let’s eat soon, okay? Please…

Urushi: Kakashi…. Are you happy that I’m here?

(p. 35)

Kakashi: Hm? Yeah, I’m happy!

Urushi, of course I’m happy ~

(Note: the word Kakashi uses is 嬉しい, which is ‘ureshii’ so Kakashi is making a pun with Urushi’s name here.)

Urushi: *blush* Okay!

Pakkun: What we were just talking about… Don’t talk about it in front of Shiba.

Urushi: Huh? Why?

Pakkun: Seems like he recently had his heart broken…

(p. 36)

Urushi: The thing that’s most important and precious to me… isn’t you.

That’s why I can’t be with you.

I can’t be with you, but… you’re a beautiful and amazing lady.

So, let’s meet again one day ~

Biscuit: Kakashi! Kakashiiiii! It’s awful!!

(p. 37)

(*throbbing pain*)

Biscuit: Urushi’s hurt!!

(*dogs barking*)

Guruko: Let’s go fight them!! *steam from nostrils*

Shiba: No way, is it a girl? Kakashi, you better tell him off!!!

Kakashi: Did you get into a fight with a dog from the village?

Urushi: No, it’s not that…

I took responsibility.

I’ve got a manly mark on my face, heh~

Shiba: You better tell him off!! *bark*

Pakkun: That’s it…

6. Kakashi’s Helper Team!

(p. 38)

Kakashi: I’m home~!!!

Guruko: ?!!! Kakashi, you stink!!

Kakashi: *sweetly smiling* Oh, stop it…

I saw Asuma after a long time, and we talked and ended up getting some drinks… It was nice to see him… *flops down on floor*

Guruko: Take a bath!!!

Don’t go to sleep!!

(*soundly sleeping*)

(p. 39.)

Guruko: Uhei! Uheiii!

Uhei: What is it?

Guruko: Let’s clean up Kakashi!

(6. Kakashi’s Helper Team!)

Uhei: Ehh… But if he wakes up, he’ll take a bath himself, won’t he?

(SFX: Heave-ho! Heave-ho!)

Guruko: We can’t leave Kakashi as he is when he’s this stinky! It’s fine, take it off!

Uhei: Uh, this is stuck half way, I can’t take it off

Guruko: Because you haven’t taken off his leg bandages!

(p. 40)

Guruko: Damn, this is stuck half way *pulling*

Uhei: Isn’t that because you haven’t taken off his headband?!

Guruko: This is enough, let’s carry him to the bath like this!

(*dragging noises*)

Uhei: Won’t his clothes get wet?

Guruko: It’s fine, because we’re going to wash them anyway!

Uhei: It’s amazing… Kakashi still hasn’t woken up!

Guruko: Okay, let’s wash him!

Uhei: Isn’t that… the shampoo that we use?

Guruko: It’s totally safe!!

If it’s fine for us to use, it’ll be fine for Kakashi too, right?

Uhei: I guess…

(p. 41)

Uhei: We can wash his body, but what about his clothes?

(SFX: *scrub scrub*)

Guruko: If we wash them together, it’ll be fine! Hey, pour some hot water over here ~

Uhei: Okay!

(SFX: *splash*)

Kakashi: *suddenly yelling* I’m gonna die!!

Guruko: *screaming*

Kakashi: Even with my face covered, if you pour hot water on me, I can’t breathe, you know!! You really can’t do that.

Guruko: You woke up…

(SFX: *heart pounding*)

Uhei: You really scared me…

(p. 42)

Kakashi: You’d started something, and I wondered how far you’d carry on… Ah, I’m drenched.

Guruko: Ah, I’m sorry, Kakashi!!

Kakashi: Well, anyway.. you guys ended up cleaning yourselves pretty good too. You’re all drenched, too.

Guruko: Then I’ll go get some towels!!

Uhei: Kakashi, Kakashi

Guruko acts the way he does, but he really loves looking after you!

Kakashi: I know.

Biscuit: I want to have a bath with Kakashi too ~

Guruko: That’s not it! It’s just all slippery (note: not accurate, but the gist is that Biscuit misunderstands and Guruko puts him straight)

7. I’ll always love you

(p. 43)

(Flashback)

Sakumo: Pakkun…

Pakkun…

I have a favour to ask.

(Present)

Pakkun…

(SFX: Snoring)

Kakashi: Pakkun..

(SFX: Gasp)

Pakkun: Huh?

Kakashi: It’s time to eat.

(p. 44)

Pakkun: Alright.

(Other dogs: Food~ Food ~

Kakashi: Yes ~ Yes ~)

(Flashback)

Sakumo: Pakkun…

Pakkun….

Pakkun..

(p. 45)

Pakkun: Kakashi?

Kakashi: Hm?

Pakkun: For the mission report before… You didn't need me, did you?

Why did you bring me?

Other dogs: We want to come too!!

Kakashi: It’s just Pakkun for today

Kakashi: Hmm…

Hey, let’s relax here for a little while.

Pakkun: What’s this…

Kakashi: Come on…

Well…

(p. 46)

Kakashi: I want to talk about Dad.

…No. Maybe it’s a confession?

Talking about Dad…. Felt like something we couldn’t even broach. Ever.

I think you felt this way too, right, Pakkun?

I couldn’t tell you earlier that ‘it’s all right now’. Even though it was.

It was just a matter of timing, I guess…

Pakkun: But I wasn’t waiting for you to say that… Even if you’d have said it earlier, that’d have been good, but..

Why, out of the blue like this?

A change like that… Just like…

Just like…

(p. 47)

(Flashback)

Sakumo: I have a favour.

(Present)

Kakashi: The day Dad died…

Ever since then, for a long time, now… I became strange.

I’ve been nothing but trouble for you.

Pakkun: Kakashi-

Kakashi: Even though… you were hurting over Dad not being here too.

(p. 48)

Kakashi: Dad was your first master, right?

You really were precious to him.

….The other day, when you were having a nap, I woke you up, didn’t I?

It might have been because of the food, but your nose was twitching.

At first, I thought you were growling.

When I woke you up, you had a really startled expression when you looked at me.

I understood right away.

You were thinking about Dad, right?

(p. 49)

Kakashi: You were having a dream about Dad that time, right?

Thank you for always being considerate towards me…

But it’s alright now.

From now on, I want you to tell me…

The things about Dad that only you know.

(p. 50)

Pakkun: Sakumo…

(Sakumo: Pakkun…)

Pakkun: …really was a loving, kind man.

Kind, and…

(Sakumo: Pakkun…)

Pakkun: Kind, and…

…Kakashi.

I’ll tell you about Sakumo.

The things I’ve always wanted to tell you

I’ll tell you now.

Kakashi: Okay.

(p. 51)

Kakashi: Thank you for telling me about Dad, Pakkun.

Pakkun: …Don’t you dare die.

(Pakkun…)

I’ve had enough now.

Yeah. Enough.

(p. 52)

(Sakumo: I’m asking.…)

Pakkun: Sakumo…

The two of you are exactly alike.

Kakashi: Oh, really?

Pakkun: Everything’s alright now.

(p. 53)

“Kakashi!”

(p. 54)

(No text)

(p. 55)

Kakashi!

(p. 56)

Kakashi

(Note: I think the favour Sakumo asked of Pakkun was to take care of and be mindful of Kakashi always. This isn't outright stated)

#naruto #kakashi #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #pftranslates #fan comic #translation #fan translation

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the-angriestpineapple · 4 years

Text

liability // villain!sero hanta x femreader

Rating: Explicit Characters: (Villain) Sero Hanta Inspiration: My piece for the Citrus Dome Discord server’s Hero/Villain Redemption Collaboration. Okay listen, I love Sero Hanta and this boy does not nearly get enough credit for what a good boy he is. Get ready to thirst for a tape dispenser folks. Prompt: You’re captured by a villain/hero. This is a double whammy! The character you pick must be written with the opposite alignment. So, if they are heroes, they must be portrayed as villains. If they are villains, they must be depicted as heroes. On top of that, you (reader) or they must try and corrupt or redeem the other character! Tags: Villain!Sero Hanta, bondage, shibari, overstimulation, oral, vaginal sex, abuse, talk of sexual assault. (The last two are not Sero and only last like, a paragraph or two.) Word Count: ~6.4k Collab Masterlist here

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The museum was dead silent with the exception of your brush making slow, careful strokes on the painting you were working on. Of course, it was expected that it was dead silent. You were at work near in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that the restoration department was noisy during the day, but there was always some sort of audio. Someone talking, other people working, someone sipping tea. And for this specific piece, you wanted absolute silence to concentrate. Not even music. Dead silence. It was the first time you’d found a piece by your absolute favorite artist and you had begged to be the one to restore it. But in order to concentrate as much as you felt you needed to, there had to be no noise. So you’d gotten permission to stay late, after the museum closed. And you were grateful. This was going to be the absolute highlight of your career. You pause to dip your brush into the specialty varnish remover and hear a noise. You pause, and glance at the clock. It wasn’t time for the security guard to make the rounds. You immediately feel on edge. No one else is supposed to be here. Maybe… maybe something just fell over in the artifact room. You grab your cell phone, trying not to think about how utterly impossible that is, and turn on your flashlight app. You exit your offices in the restoration department and head to the next door, where the artifacts not currently on display are held. It’s possible that the security guard made rounds early. Likely more possible than something falling over. Especially since the door to the artifact room is ajar. You’d go in, see the guard, and then maybe it was time to head home. You make it only a handful of steps in before you hear something that sounds vaguely familiar, and you’re quickly wrapped in some kind of tape. You immediately struggle but lose your balance, falling to the ground. Your phone skids away from you and slides directly under a shelf. You stare at the spot in dismay and when someone speaks up behind you, you freeze at the voice.

“Hm. This won’t do. Intel said there’s only one security guard and I already took care of him.” A booted foot pushes on your bound torso to roll you over. You look up, and your captor’s eyes widen the same time that yours does. He breathes out your name in surprise. Immediate glee rises in you. He recognizes you. Sero Hanta, love of your life from middle school, recognizes you all these years later. But that giddy schoolgirl elation is shoved down when you remember that he’s a villain and is obviously here to steal from your museum. His mouth curls into a grin just as yours falls to a frown. “What are you doing here, Sero?” Not that you don’t already know. Your museum might not be the Tokyo National Museum, but it held some pretty priceless artifacts. “I would think that’s obvious, if you recognize me. How have you been?” His head tilts to the side and your frown deepens. “You look good.” I look good? Part of you feels your heart skip at the compliment. Part of you flares up in indignation, wondering how he has the absolute gall to say that to you when you’re bound from shoulders to hips in tape, on the floor of your place of work that he’s about to rob. Though if you’re behind completely honest, he looks good too. You’d always been partial to his angular face and wide smile, but now he had lean, powerful looking muscles. His hair was still long but pulled back, and the underside of his head shaved. His outfit was a parody on his hero costume, a skin-tight body suit of mostly black with white and yellow accents. He didn’t wear a helmet anymore, but did have a black face mask. Like the kind you wore when you were sick. He had an air of confidence around him that was undeniably attractive. But you guessed that one would become a bit arrogant with as many successful heists as he’s pulled off. He’d never been caught once, even though he had former classmates that were specifically looking to take him down. And now here you were, throwing a wrench in and possibly fucking it all up. As far as you knew Sero had never actually murdered anyone, but there had been a lot of thefts with no witnesses. What if there were, and he just disposed of them? What if he did that to you? Your breath catches in your throat, and you flinch away from him when he crouches down. He still has that grin on his face. “So, if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to it and figure out what I’m gonna do with you later.” He taps your nose and rises again. “You’re just going to leave me here on the floor taped up like this?!” You start to struggle again, but his tape is strong. You can barely move. “Afraid so,” he says with a sympathetic look. “This is an important heist, and I can’t have you fucking it up for me.” He starts perusing the various artwork. You’re not sure if he is looking for something in particular, since right now he looks more like he’s shopping than about to rob the place. You watch his movements carefully, cataloging all the pieces he touches. At least, that’s what you want to pretend you’re doing. You know that you’re watching the fluid motion of his muscles through his skin tight costume. The way his eyes light up at a particularly valuable piece. The wide, friendly smile that you remember from middle school is surely under that black mask. He’d been playfully teased by your classmates for that smile, but it had always made your heart flutter. Despite his looking, Sero doesn’t seem to be finding anything of interest. He’d even picked up some very expensive pieces before putting them back down. It doesn’t take long for your curiosity to get the better of you. “Um, are you looking for something in particular?” Sero looks at you with an expression of mild surprise. It’s only a split second though before the confident grin is back on. “Why, you willing to help me out?” His eyebrow raises and you flush a little. “Of course not,” you fire back immediately. You’re just curious if he is looking for a certain item. There’s a few things that he can think of that he might be looking for. But Sero hasn’t turned away from you. “You know, for a small museum this is a rather large room. You might just be useful to me.” He only now shifts back to continue to peruse through the paintings. “I am looking for a piece in particular, as you said. The original Hinakuawa pond painting. I saw that it was taken off display.” It’s a good thing he’d turned away from you, because he missed the moment of your eyes widening before you forced a neutral face. That painting was taken off display because it was on loan to another museum, one hours from here. “Ah. Lotus Daydream. Yes, that painting is kept in this room when it is not on display.” Luckily the bulk of your artwork was flat pieces, so this was the largest storeroom. Maybe you could keep Sero distracted while he searched for a painting that wasn’t there, until your security guard woke up and signaled the police – and the heroes – to come save you. It was as good of a plan as any, and considering your current predicament… the only plan you really had. He glances at you when you don’t willingly point out where it is, then shrugs and keeps looking himself. He doesn’t seem inclined to keep talking. The silence gets to you after a few minutes. “So, um… it’s been a long time. I… see you on the news a lot.” You wince inwardly. What a stupid start. But Sero doesn’t seem to think so apparently. He gives you a side smirk. “Yeah? You watching me on the news?” The teasing in his tone was obvious and you flush again. “You’re on it a lot, to be fair.” Which wasn’t incorrect. Sero Hanta was on the news a few times a week with another successful theft. He infuriated the police and the heroes, especially the ones who used to be his friends. “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.” He winks at you and turns back to examining the artwork. I bet you are. The thought comes immediately, and your breath catches for a moment. It’s almost funny. The Sero you knew, that you had been hopelessly in love with, had been awkward. He smiled a lot, and he was laid back, but he didn’t have this confidence that seemed to be oozing out of this Sero. Your Sero had been lanky. Long-limbed and almost spider like. But his kindness and thoughtfulness had been what made you fall first. You had also been awkward, and very quiet. You didn’t even know if he’d known who you were. You’d been partnered with him for an English project once and you’d barely been able to communicate with him for it in person. He’d been so sweet and patient. And now… now he was the most notorious thief in Japan. With the body of a god and confidence of a rock star. It makes you squirm a little in your restraints. “And you, I didn’t expect to find anyone here, much less someone like you. Is it normal for you to work this late?” You know it’s probably just him trying to case the museum, to see where he made an error, but you shake your head anyway. “No, I was working on a piece that is very important to me.” You see an eyebrow raise, and hurry to continue. “Not Lotus Daydream. It’s another artist, one much smaller. It does not have a lot of monetary value, but he’s my favorite painter.” You get a soft look on your face when you think about it. Sero gives a tiny, indulgent smile. “Sounds important to you.” “Yeah, it is.” “Any particular reason?” Hm. You can’t think of a good reason why he would ask that question to benefit him. And telling a story is going to take up time. You look away from Sero, focusing instead on an old painting of a rice paddy in the corner. “Well… I didn’t have a lot of contact with my father when I was younger. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I was able to talk to him at all. My mother hated him, and hated that I was just like him, so she kept me from him while telling me that he didn’t want to see me.” It didn’t bother you anymore. It did back then, but you now had good relationships with both of your parents. You’d forgiven your mother long ago. “My father is an art collector. Talking to him got me interested in it too, and my interest and skills landed me in an art restoration career.” You pause, looking up at Sero. He’s looking at you curiously. “That artist had a small exhibit near his house, and that was where my father took me as an outing the first time I’d seen him since I was five.” Sero tilts his head slightly as he digests this information. “Oh. Yeah, I can see why that’s important to you. So you didn’t have an interest in art in middle school? I always saw that you were reading, but I never saw what.” He leans against a glass case, now more focused on you than what he’s looking for. “No. I, um, I wasn’t very outgoing. I preferred to be in the back of the room with a book. I wasn’t teased or anything like that, and I was more or less happy. I just didn’t know how to talk to my classmates the way the popular kids did.” You give a small, wry chuckle. “It was even worse when it came to you, since I liked you.” What??? Your eyes shoot wide just as one of Sero’s brows raise. “You liked me?” He pulls his face mask down and now you can see as his wide mouth curls up into a grin. As much as you don’t want to dive into this topic, you do notice that all of his attention is now on you instead of the artwork surrounding you both. So you decide to play it up a little. You lower your eyes for a moment before shyly looking up at him through your lashes and nodding. You still did, if you were being entirely honest, despite his criminal record. His grin widens even more and he pushes off the case, sauntering over to where you’re sitting. One elbow crooks and he shoots tape at the ceiling. It sticks around a beam and holds, and he tears it from his elbow only to shoot another from the other one. You’re silent as he hoists you up to a standing position and adheres the pieces to the tape on your back. Keeping you there on your tip toes, off the floor just enough that you couldn’t put your feet flat on the ground. “And you didn’t say anything back then? I would have been thrilled to know that you felt that way.” Your breath hitches. Really? Had you wasted your chance back then? And is that what you’re going to think about right now when he’s here in the middle of the night attempting to rob your museum? But Sero’s moving in closer, and your eyes widen fractionally as your toes scramble a bit in an effort to back up. He notices and smirks. “And how about now? Is what I do a turn off?” His eyes are staring into yours, his voice dropping low. “Or… is it a turn on?” Your breath hitches, and your heart is beating so hard you’re sure he can hear it. He’s so close, and you can’t get away. Though… you know that you really don’t want to. He exhales slowly, his breath ghosting over your lips, before he closes the distance between your mouths. His lips are thin and slightly chapped, but he obviously knows what he’s doing. His mouth moves slowly, almost teasingly as he coaxes your mouth to move with his. He presses in closer to place one hand on the middle of your back and slide down to the small. You aren’t sure what exactly it is – the fact that you’re bound, the fact that you’re at your job, the fact that you liked him, the fact that he’s a criminal, or maybe all of them – but this is the most amazing kiss you’ve had in a while. If ever. There is the beginning of a knot of heat in your core as his tongue licks your lower lip, your mouth immediately opening to allow him entrance. You whimper slightly into the kiss, the noise turning into a soft whine when he pulls away from you. You open your eyes to see him smirking down at you. He’s still holding your body pressed to his, and you can easily feel without your hands how firm his muscles are. How strong he is. He has to be, really, to be able to swing around on his tape as fluidly as he does. But Sero had always been strong. You remember seeing him in the Sports Festival back when he went to UA High School, remember him during the cavalry battle. How he had easily caught a young Ground Zero in mid air with one arm and tossed him back on top of their group. You’d had that in your mind for months after the fact. “I guess it’s a turn on,” he murmurs, one hand going up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “So now the real question is… how much of a turn on is it?” He leans close, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You gonna let me get into that dress? I’d like to know what you taste like.” Your breath hitches, a shiver going down your spine. You want it, so fucking badly, but are you bold enough to let him? Well, it’s not like you have much of a choice, you reason with yourself. Sure, it’s probable that he won’t touch you if you say no, but you’re bound. Helpless. At his mercy. You hold your breath as he pulls back just far enough to look into your eyes, and you give the slightest nod on the exhale. His mouth curls into another smirk and he lets you go to back away. You look at him in confusion until he shoots more tape at the ceiling – two strands, that he attaches to your ankles and uses to keep your legs yanked into the air. Your dress hikes up to your hips when he pushes your thighs up and ties his tape to each one. This leaves you splayed open, suspended in front of him. On display for his dark eyes to rove over. He steps close to you again, both hands running on the outside of your thighs until they reach your hips. Then he moves to his knees to put himself at face level with your core. “Mm. Already wet for me, I see,” he says in a husky, teasing tone. Before you can formulate a quippy answer the hands on your hips dig in and he pulls your forward to his mouth. His wide, flat tongue licks up your damp panties and your breath is ripped from your lungs. He lets out a pleasurable groan. “Delicious. Just like I thought. But I’m sure it’d be better without these in the way.” Sero hooks his thumb into your panties and pulls them to the side before repeating his tongue drag. This time it pulls a strangled moan from you. He lets out another groan in response and pulls back just enough to look at you from between your legs. “That’s it, make more of those noises for me.” And he pulls you back in. You’d had oral sex before, sure. Roughly half of the guys you dated did it, and a decent number of them enjoyed it. It had always astounded you how much a guy wanted your mouth on his dick but didn’t want to return the favor. Sero Hanta, on the other hand, ate you like he was starving and you were the most decedant thing he’d ever tasted. His hands kept you pressed tightly to his face to the point that you’d probably be concerned for his ability to breathe if you could string a thought together. He seems like he’s everywhere at once. His tongue lapping up your sex before dipping inside of it, back out to drag up and circle your clit. Now and then he’d suck or gently bit it, causing a sharp increase in the moans he was pulling out of you. He had you strung up in a way that you really could only see the top of his head as he worked you over, so you could never quite tell what was coming next. You let out a noise of surprise that tapers into a moan when his first finger breaches you. “Look at you,” he breathes as he presses kisses to the insides of your thighs. “Opening right up for me.” He leans back far enough to be able to catch your eyes. “Such a good girl.” He curls his long, dexterous finger up to press against the small, spongy spot inside you that has you bucking in your restraints. He grins. Sero knows exactly what he’s doing. He slides his finger out only to press two back in as he leans forward. “Cum for me, babe?” he breathes out across your sex before wrapping his lips back around your clit. The sucking sensation coupled with the press against that spot inside you has you crying out and coming apart around him. He rolls his fingers as you ride through it while gently licking at your clit, your hips jerking and trying to get away from the over-stimulation. You’re slightly dazed as he rises up, grabbing your hips again and pressing his bulge into your soaked folds. Despite how sensitive you are, you can’t help but buck back into him. “Can I use your mouth, babe?” He tilts his head slightly, grinning when you enthusiastically nod your consent. You can’t quite find words, so… body language. Sero pulls a blade out from somewhere around his hip and cuts the tape to let your legs down. More tape shoots off, more tape is cut, you don’t really have the capacity to follow what he’s doing. Then you’re being moved. Sero tilts you forward until your face is level with his hips, but your toes are still just skimming the floor again. He has your hips bound up a little higher than your head and you look at him from under your lashes. He reaches out to skim fingers down the line of your jaw. “Beautiful,” he mumbles. Your heart swells with the praise, and you bite your lip before opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out, and looking back up at him. He curses under his breath and flicks his fingers under a nearly invisible seam at the crotch of his suit, revealing a button and long zipper. How convenient, you think as he undoes both and pulls his cock out through the hole. He immediately drops it so the head bounces on your tongue, hissing at how warm your tongue is. His cock isn’t particularly wide, but it is long and slightly curved upward. And he tastes so good, you really want to close your mouth and get to work, but you wait. He rocks his hips marginally to let the head slide a few centimetres and bites his lip. “Fuck. You are a good girl. Go ahead and close your mouth, babe.” You happily oblige, feeling a thrill at the way his head tips back when you swirl your tongue around the head. He drops a large hand on your head but instead of guiding your head further down like most of the guys you’ve been with, he winds his fingers gently in your hair. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your head as he rocks his hips into your mouth. You want more. You’re very confident that you can take him down to the root, and you want to try. You try to push forward but it’s very awkward with your toes scrambling on the floor. He notices once you whine a little, and looks down with a chuckle. “You want more?” He steps forward a little, letting more of his length slide in until he bumps into the back of your throat. You let out a small moan and let your tongue dance around his underside to show your approval. He makes a guttural noise and starts to rock his hips into you faster. Harder. You hollow out your cheeks as you look up at him and he moans. “Shit, I’m not gonna last if you do that,” he rasps out with a slight laugh. He manages a few more thrusts before he’s pulling out of your mouth. He’s panting a little and looking at you with a lopsided grin. "Damn babe, you're good with that mouth." You flush a little and smile. You’d been told that before, but somehow it was so much better coming from Sero. "Thanks. You're um, you're good with your tape." Sero’s face brightens, and his mouth curls up to a wide grin as he tucks himself back into his suit. "Yeah? Think so? You haven't seen the half of it.” Before you can question what he means by that the switchblade is out again. He cuts you down and lets you find your feet. The blade gets positioned at your hip, then Sero’s wrist flicks up. It cuts you out of the tape… and out of your dress. “Sorry babe,” he murmurs with no real remorse in his voice. You open your mouth to protest your ruined dress but Sero pulls you close, pressing your bare chest to his body suit clad one and kiss you into silence. It’s not important. You have a dress in your locker. It’s fine. As you’re kissing you feel his fingers caress the line of your panties, along your hips, before he pulls on them slightly. He’s testing to see if he can remove them, you assume. You quickly pull them further down. He chuckles into your kiss and swiftly crouches to help you out of them before tucking them into a nearly invisible back pocket. He gives you a cheeky grin and quickly removes the tape from your ankles. Technically you’re free now, but the thought to run doesn’t even cross your mind. You just wait until he straightens up and moves back in for more kisses. After a few moments you hear his tape shoot out again three times. He pulls back as he shoots a fourth. It binds around your bare chest, just under your breasts. “The anchor,” he says with a wink. You tilt your head in confusion, and he pulls his arm back to rest his hand on the back of his neck. He pulls more tape from his elbow, a sizable piece. He starts to twist the tape and wrap you up. He attaches the tape to the front of the strip already on you, threads it up through your breasts, and attaches it at the back almost to your hip. He repeats that on the other side. He keeps making and twisting tape, wrapping around your ankles and wrists. He steps behind you and presses your wrists together, crossing them, and quietly asks you to keep them there. You do. His fingers skimming over your skin as he works you over it so erotic. He wraps tape around your elbows, not twisted, to keep your arms straight out. Sero takes one of the tape strands attached to the ceiling and attaches it to the tape on your back. Now you kind of understand what he meant when he said it was an anchor point. “I’m gonna lift you up, okay?” You exhale, already shaky. “Yeah. Yeah that’s fine.” He smiles and grabs your chin, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. Your heart skips a beat. He makes another tape rope and crouches down to affix it to your ankle. He runs fingertips with a feather light touch up the side of your leg as he rises. Then he pulls, your ankle coming up. He keeps pulling higher until your thigh follows. He binds your ankle to your wrist, then ties your lower thigh and upper leg together. The position keeps your leg up and folded in. He quickly repeats this with the other side before attaching the last two tape strands he shot off at first to your ankles. You’re suspended by your ankles and the middle of your back, arms stretched out and held in place behind you. Because your ankles are also attached to your wrists, if you shift or move one of them the others move too. You bite your lip as Sero walks around to your front. He traces fingers along your jawline again but this time he doesn’t stop, tipping your face up to his by your chin. “Gorgeous,” he breathes, reverence in his voice. Your face flushes, because he’s looking at you like you’re the most breathtaking thing he’s ever seen. He runs his thumb over your lower lip and your lips automatically part. He gives you a slight smirk and crouches so he can be face to face with you without removing his fingers from your face. “Now, I’d really like to fuck you. But if you don’t want to, I can use my mouth on you again instead.” His voice was soft, eyes watching your face for your reaction. You swallow, and nod. He chuckles a little. “I gotta hear you say it, babe.” “Yeah, yeah please. I want you to fuck me, Sero,” you gasp out in a rushed breath. He leans in and softly kisses your lips. “Good girl,” he whispers against your mouth and rises. You shiver in anticipation as you lose sight of him when he moves behind you. You’re straining to hear what he’s doing, and you hear the rustle of his clothes, the tearing of a wrapper. Your eyes widen as you feel his blunt head sliding along your still soaked folds. The tease is too much and you whine again, but you can’t push back against him. He’s taken all of your possible leverage away and now you really were entirely at his mercy. Large hands grab on to your waist as the first inch sinks in. You inhale and Sero quietly asks if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” you say with impatience in your tone, “Just waiting.” Sero chuckles behind you. “Well, who am I to keep a lady waiting?” Air is punched out of your lungs as he sheathes himself in one thrust, then slides back out. One more hard thrust, a soft groan from him, and then he’s railing into you hard and fast. While he’s not the thickest man you’ve ever had, he is still a good size and the drag of his cock on your walls is making you cry out as it rubs against the small bundle of nerves inside you. And his length is incredible. He’s bottoming out with each thrust, and his leverage on your hips has him pulling you back as he pushes forward. Hard, deep, and driving you to a second release faster than you thought possible. Sero groans again and picks up his pace. “Fuck, yeah, that’s good baby. Look at you, sucking me in like this. You feel so good around me. Can’t wait to feel you cum on my cock.” His voice is so low, murmuring the words to you, and you clench around him. He hisses at the feeling, moaning out on his exhale. “That’s right, cum on my cock baby. Just let go.” One of his hands leaves your hip and he steps closer to you. You’re bouncing on him a bit more due to gravity than his grasp, and the free hand snakes down to rub sloppy circles on your clit. Five swipes and you’re done for, crying out loudly as your walls clamp down around him. He stops moving in you, still all the way inside, gently and slowly rubbing your clit as your ride out your orgasm. He doesn’t stop though, even as you come down and the pleasure starts to be too much. “S-Sero, I can’t-” “Sure you can, babe. I know you have one more for me.” He rolls his hips fractionally, barely an inch of his cock sliding in and out of you as he keeps his attention on your clit. Your thighs pulled back as far as they are prevent you from closing them to stop him, and it only takes a few minutes before you’re sobbing as another orgasm rips through you. Only now does he pull his hand away and moves so he is standing like he’d been. His hand returns to your bare hip. “See, I knew you had it in you. So fucking good for me.” You barely have time to process his words before he’s fucking into you hard again. He’s chasing his own orgasm now, and you desperately want to give it to him. You can’t touch him though, and you can’t wrap your legs around him to pull him closer. The only thing you can do is flex your walls, make the hole he’s fucking into tighter. It earns you a moan of appreciation that makes you giddy. “Shit, babe, I’m gonna-” He cuts off into a drawn out moan as he slams into you one more time, hard. Then a few softer thrusts. Then he’s done, and you’re both just panting. Desperate attempts to fully fill your lungs. It takes a full minute before Sero pulls out and starts to move. “Well… I must admit that I wasn’t expecting this particular type of art when I came here.” Sero huffs out a laugh and you blink in your post orgasm haze. He peels the condom off and pulls a small bag from his pocket to drop it into. The bag gets closed and shoved back in his pocket. Right, he doesn’t want to leave any evidence that he was here. You bite your lip as you try to stare at him over his shoulder. “Lotus Daydream isn’t here.” Sero looks at you in surprise when you blurt out the words. “It’s on loan to another museum. It’s been gone for three days.” He blinks in disbelief, and then bursts out laughing. “You sneaky little thing.” But he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds amused, even impressed. “I guess that theft-wise my trip was a bust.” Sero runs a hand over the side of his head, smoothing back some stray hair strands. He looks at you still hanging on display as if he’s trying to figure out what to do with you. You bite your lip in consideration. “I won’t say anything about you breaking in if you just leave. Since the piece you’re after isn’t here anyway.” It’s a long shot but worth a try. He frowns a little as he studies your face. You really wish that you could at least close your legs, if not actually get back onto the floor. “Yeah. Alright. You have a deal. You don’t say anything about me being here and I’ll let you go.” Your face brightens and his grows more serious. “But if I do find out that you said something… I’ll be coming after you. And you will desperately wish that you hadn’t. Do you understand?” “Yeah. I understand.” You’re proud that your voice is firm, and the frown turns back up to his wide, trademark smile. He pulls the switchblade back out to cut his tape, gently lowering you to the floor. Only now does he remember that he shredded your dress when he cut you out of his initial containment. “I have a spare dress in my locker,” you say quickly. Sometimes – almost daily - you get the varnish on your clothes. Most days that doesn’t matter. You don’t really leave your office. But you do try to make sure you have a spare outfit in case you have to meet someone important. You blink as he says that he’ll grab it and he heads off. Somehow you aren’t surprised that he knows where the lockers are and that he can apparently pick your lock. He returns in moments carrying your dress draped over his shoulder. He carefully peels the rest of the tape off of your bare skin. His gentleness is surprising and makes your heart flutter. He’s going slow, careful to not hurt you. He lets you dress, comes with you to pick up your bag, and walks you to the door. He looks out over the street once you’re outside. “The video feed is on a loop. I put your guard to sleep, he’ll wake up without any knowledge that he was knocked out.” Sero gives a bright grin and a small two-finger wave, then shoots his tape up, retracting it to propel up and disappears onto the roof. You watch him go in awe. Sero was amazing in your mind back when you first met him but he was just stunning now. You glance at your watch to check the time. It’s late, the trains have already stopped. You don’t live that far from the museum though, maybe a twenty five minute walk. So you set off. You get three blocks before you hear a low whistle. “Hey baby, what’re you doing out by yourself this late at night? Wanna come party with us?” Your blood runs cold at the trio of men lurking at the alley entrance to your right. The smell of cheap sake invades your senses. Your hand goes to your pocket for your phone and a cold sense of realization washes over you. It had been knocked from your hands and was currently under a shelf in the artifact room. As you’re preparing to run a rough hand grabs you and yanks you into the darkened alley. A different hand clasps over your mouth, but drunks don’t have the best coordination or reflexes. You’re able to bite down hard on one of the man’s fingers. He yells and yanks his hand back, and you take the opportunity to let out a scream. One of the other men growls at you to shut up and smacks you hard upside the head. Your head snaps forward. It dazes you, and your head rolls back. You’re dizzy and can’t seem to focus on any of them. The third man laughs. Three different voices blend together, talking about what they intend to do to such a pretty little thing like you. You’re shoved and pinned up against the rough brick of the alley wall while they argue about who goes first, who goes where. You close your eyes, waiting for the touches you don’t want. But they never come. The hands pinning you leave you and you slide down to the ground. You hear shocked shouts, and when you open your eyes and your vision starts to clear you see a black, white, and yellow figure swinging from a rope – tape! - and kicking one of them drunken men in the face. They try to fight back, but three wobbly drunks are no match for Sero Hanta. He’s too fast, too agile, too strong. Your attackers are all out cold in the alley in under two minutes. Sero, not even breathing heavily from the exertion, lands gracefully on his feet turns to you. With a frown he gently gathers you up in his arms and brings a hand up to touch where they slammed you in the head. “...I heard you scream. Are you alright?” You don’t answer right away. Instead, you bring up a hand and cup his cheek. “You saved me,” you breathe out. Sero’s face softens, and he smiles. He brings you closer and leans down until your foreheads are touching. “Yeah,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I did, didn’t I? Let me get you home.”

#Sero Hanta #sero hanta imagine #villain sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta smut #mha #mha imagine #mha smut #villain redemption #bnha imagine #bnha smut #bnha collab #citrus dome #citrus dome collab

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teawaffles · 3 years

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There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 2

The next day.

After finishing his work at the mansion, Bond headed to Whitechapel’s Leman Street, where Maya and her company normally held their rehearsals. [1]

Walking down the noisy street was not just Bond, but also three other employees of the Moriarty household. One of them was Fred Porlock.

“It would’ve been fine if only you came along, Fred…… But thanks for joining us anyway, you two.”

Bond directed that to Jack Renfield and Sebastian Moran, who were walking a little behind him.

As Fred was a master of disguise, Bond had asked him to contribute his opinion on the performance too when Jack and Moran decided to tag along. Now the four of them were on their way to the rehearsal — with Louis’ permission of course.

Jack roared with laughter.

“No, you don’t have to thank me. I’ve watched my fair share of theatre, so I thought I could help them out, even if it’s from an amateur’s perspective,” said the old butler, nodding as he reminisced about those good old days.

“You’re probably just after the young girls from the theatre company, aren’t you old man?” Moran said, half in disgust. “Bond said this Maya chairwoman is a dashing lady in her own right, so I came along to feast my eyes on—— Ow, that hurt!”

Jack had clapped Moran on the head, as a warning to not shoot his mouth off.

“The only one here chasing women is you. Really, you didn’t even finish your chores properly before coming here.”

“I did my part just fine. For once, I’m not skipping out on work.”

“Rubbish — I did a check before we left and found some cigarette butts in the hallway. Don’t you dare annoy Louis any further.”

“……W-Well, the more the merrier, right?”

“…………”

Listening to their usual argument at the back of the group, Bond smiled wryly, while Fred was silent.

Finally, they had reached their destination. Waiting in front of the theatre was Maya, and her little sister Mae.

“Mister Bond!”

“Hey, haven’t seen you since yesterday.”

Mae waved her arms up and down in excitement, while Bond greeted them with a smile.

“S—sorry. Normally, she would play with the other children near our place, but today she insisted on coming with me…… By the way, um, who might these, d—dignified gentlemen be?”

“Ah, they work at the same household as me. The short one here is Fred. The somewhat scary-looking one is Moran. And this dandy old gentleman is Mr Jack. If you’re alright with it, I thought you could use their input as well.”

As Bond introduced them, the three men also greeted their host. But Maya seemed a little perplexed.

“……Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come here in a big group,” Bond admitted, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“No, no.” Maya hurriedly waved her hands. “I—I’m really grateful to be able to, hear valuable feedback from, so many people. For now, let’s not stand here to talk, please come in……”

Maya guided them into the theatre, stooped in a self-abasing posture. Her faltering voice was much as the same as from their previous encounter, but today, nerves seemed to have crept in as well.

“She has a sort of shadow about her, but that has its own charm. Like the transient beauty of a young widow, don’t you think?”

“She’s pretty, for sure, but not really my type. More like the kind of woman who complicates things when you break up with her.”

“Um, sorry you two, but if you could just keep your voices down,” chided Bond, as Jack and Moran whispered about the chairwoman behind her back.

Right after the entrance was a cramped space. The box seats above them looked hastily constructed; in truth, the interior decorations made it seem more appropriate to call this place a playhouse, rather than a proper theatre.

But their guide had only praise. “The manager here is, a really nice person; whenever we say we want to practise, he’s always happy to lend it to us. There are performances held at night, so we can only use it during the day.”

“He trusts you, doesn’t he.”

Hearing her speak with such sincere gratitude, Bond was quietly impressed by her character. Perhaps her dark aura easily invited misunderstanding, but she was definitely genuine at heart.

“Speaking of which, Miss Maya, you said that you’re the director for this performance, but surely someone else is responsible for the sets and the arrangements at the other theatre during this time?”

“Another member is in charge of the sets, but the negotiations and the like, w—were handled by me. Even so, the manager of the larger theatre — a nobleman — had actually approached us to be the opening act for another company, and I just accepted his invitation.”

“Still, isn’t it great to be invited to perform on a bigger stage, even if it’s just as an opening act?”

“Yes; for people like us — a theatre company from the slums, we don’t have many chances to show the world what we can do, so everyone’s doing their very best.”

Saying that, Maya secretly clenched her fists. Surely the one working the hardest was none other than Maya herself.

There was no audience in the stalls, and on the stage were a number of men and women — likely the company members themselves — doing light warm-ups and vocal exercises. A few of the children he’d met yesterday were also frolicking about on stage.

One exceptionally tall man on the stage had noticed Bond and the others enter the hall, and spoke up.

“Oh, is that the rumoured theatre master?”

Moran whistled at this unusually grand title.

“Theatre master, eh. A fitting name considering your experience, Bond.”

“Fufu, I’m honoured.”

Bond accepted it with his innate courage and composure. Then, he went onto the stage with Maya, while the other three sat in the stalls at the far end, so as to not stand out and interfere with the rehearsal.

The company members each stopped what they were doing and lined up in wait.

“Everyone, this is Mr Bond, who will be watching our performance today,” introduced Maya.

Right then and there, her voice had become clearer and stronger. A little taken aback by the sudden change in her attitude, Bond took a quick look around the room.

“Hello to you all. I’m looking forward to what you have for me today,” he said solemnly, as he bowed.

“We’ll do our best!” The company members bowed their heads in unison.

From their greeting, Bond could feel the the quality of their bearing, and the strength of their cohesion. Not only that, the tension he himself once felt when he stood on stage came rushing back in waves.

He switched his frame of mind from that of a special agent, to that of an actor, and looked over Maya and her company with an earnest gaze.

“Well then, without further ado, please show me what you’ve got.”

“Yes!”

Even though his instructions had been given with no introductory remarks, they asked no unnecessary questions, and jumped straight into preparation. Even though they had only put up plays in cheap theatres, Maya’s company already displayed the high level of professionalism they had developed.

“Miss Maya, what’s the programme for today?” Bond asked, as he moved to the row of seats right in front of the stage.

Maya was also directing Mae and the other children to sit down. “We’re starting with ‘The Red Shoes’, followed by ‘The Little Mermaid’, and lastly, ‘The Little Match Girl’.”

“Hmm, fairytales, I see.”

The unexpected subject matter piqued his interest.

In a time when Shakespeare was all the rage, to perform children’s literature in a proper theatre, and a serious scripted play at that — now this was a bold move.

But as someone who liked to do things unconventionally, that was precisely why their play intrigued Bond. Yesterday’s playful rendition of “The Little Match Girl” was probably inspired by it as well.

Then, the tall man who noticed Bond earlier spoke up.

“Ain’t it interesting? Maya always makes sure to write plays that even us poor dumb folk understand. Today’s script is also entirely her work,” he said cheerfully.

“Weren’t you in charge of creating the play too? You should be able to write at least one decent line of dialogue.”

At the man’s self-satisfied tone, a woman beside him sighed. But he ignored her pointed comment and carried on.

“There were a bunch of people who’d always thought ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Macbeth’ and the like were plain boring; but after Maya broke them down into something easier to follow, they’ve gotten hooked onto Shakespeare.”

“Being able to interpret works in a way that everyone can understand…… A wonderful talent indeed.”

But if you were to put on a proper production of Shakespeare in an unregulated theatre like this, you would be caught by the censors. To avoid that, incorporating music and the like into their productions was a brilliant adaptation on their part.

Bond had said that last part out loud, and the man thanked him for his words of praise. The members of the company had shown their admiration for Maya, but the woman herself took in a deep breath, as if to hide her embarrassment.

In other words, in order to put on a play that everyone could follow, the answer she'd arrived at was “fairytales”. Although it may be the best choice given the short length of the opening act……

“I’m sitting next to Mister Bond!”

“Hey, no fair!”

Bond had been absorbed in thought about the contents of the play. Nearby, the children were scrambling for the best spots. Having won the seat to the left of Bond, Mae asked him a question.

“Mister Bond, do you like ‘fairy tales’?”

That pulled him out of his thought process for a moment, and Mae smiled.

“Yeah. I read them when I was a child.”

“I like them too, because Maya and the rest always read them in a fun way—”

“Me too!” The other children raised their hands and shouted. Reading stories aloud while acting out the roles was indeed a theatrical way of reading to children.

However, Mae immediately pouted in frustration.

“But I really hate that story.”

“……Why is that?”

“The little girl always looks so sad. I tried asking Maya to give it a happy ending, but she just said that we have to ‘respect the intent of the story’ and didn’t listen.”

Her words helped Bond discern the true nature of the incongruity he'd felt.

As Mae had said, all three stories had their protagonists fall into unfortunate circumstances and perish. It was true that many fairytales were cruel, but there were others with happy endings too. Was there some hidden intent behind these choices?

As Bond pondered the new question that surfaced in his mind, Mae leaned in towards him.

“Mister Bond, do you also think it’s important, what Maya said? No matter how sad a story is, can’t we make it happy on our own?”

She asked that question with clear eyes. Bond thought for a few seconds, before responding.

“It’s true that it’s important to understand the intention of the original story. If you change its contents haphazardly, the fans of the story would be upset. I think your sister is the type who would take that very seriously.”

Mae glanced down in disappointment at his level-headed answer, but Bond continued.

“However, if we were all afraid of criticism, then nothing new would ever be made. If you have something you really want to tell others, then I think it’s possible to add a new interpretation to a story. After all, one form of respect is to show the world how you would’ve done it.”

“……Oh I see!”

Mae brightened up, and Bond smiled. Her question was one that had always, and would continue to vex all interpreters of stories. But at the very least, he didn’t want to make a decision on which way was right.

Just as their conversation had come to an end, it seemed the preparations for the performance were now complete.

“Without further ado, let us begin.”

Standing on a platform, Maya gave a bow, and with that the curtain rose.

Footnotes:

[1] Leman Street is a little to the north-east of the Tower of London and St. Katharine Docks, and within walking distance of both.

T/N: Is this chapter some meta-level commentary on the series itself?! omg

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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peggyrose19 · 3 years

Text

Club Knocked Up

Um. Hello there. It’s been a minute *three months* hush you. But uh, here’s the next chapter of my Waitress AU. If you, like me, have forgotten everything that has already happened, you can find the first two chapters here. I make no promises on regular updates because, as we’ve discovered, I’m shit at those. So, as always, thank you so much for reading, and thank you for your endless patience. Characters belong to @lumosinlove.

cw: food, pregnancy

Leo waited impatiently at the doctor’s office, a wrapped pie cradled in his lap. It had become a tradition, making a new special pie for his doctor anytime he saw her. This time was no different, despite the very different circumstances.

He’d made the appointment a week ago. Something in him had known since then what was happening, but he had avoided thinking about it for as long as possible. He’d made the appointment on a whim, lying sick in the bathroom, fighting down another round of nausea, knowing it couldn’t possibly be normal. And so he’d called and booked an appointment with Dr. Perkins, his doctor since he was a baby.

He didn’t want to be there. Leg bouncing up and down, he stared out the window at the sky, turning pink and orange as the sun set. He sighed. The doctor’s office was better than being at home, he supposed.

“Leo Knut?” a nurse called, jolting him from his thoughts, and he stood quickly, following her back. Suzie, her name tag read.

“How are you doing, honey?” she asked absentmindedly, checking something on the clipboard in her hands.

“Fine, thanks,” Leo replied politely.

“Can you just take those shoes off for me?” she asked as they reached the alcove. Leo did as instructed and went to stand on the scale. He fought the urge to fidget as the nurse read the number and noted the number down in his chart.

Next, he was ushered into a nearby chair and Suzie secured a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm. She read it quickly and lessened the pressure, slipping the cuff back into the basket it was in.

“Follow me.” She led him to a nearby room and sat at the computer, typing a few things on the screen. Leo hoisted himself onto the table. As she continued typing, Leo surveyed the walls. Each room, he’d discovered, had different patterns painted on the walls. This one had a checkered pattern, in shades of green and blue. It was a little dizzying.

“Okay honey, and what brings you in today?” Suzie asked, glancing up at him.

“Um, well, I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. I’d been feeling sick for a few days so uh, my friends made me. So, yeah. Now I’m here.”

“Oh, well that’s exciting, congratulations!” Suzie said as her fingers clacked on the keys.

“Thanks.” Leo ducked his head.

“Alright, the doctor is gonna want to do another test, just to make sure.” Leo nodded absent-mindedly. “And if that also comes back positive, he’ll get you started on some prenatal meds and fill you in on everything you need to know, m’kay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, the doctor will be with you in just a few, so sit tight.”

Leo offered her a tight smile before she left, the door closing softly behind her. He sighed once it shut, slouching back onto the table. He did not want to be here.

His mind wandered to the waiting room, with all the expecting mothers looking joyful and excited. He’d felt taunted sitting there earlier, by their smiles and their glow. They were all so happy, those women. They wanted their babies, probably had loving husbands at home, who would be there to support them and take care of them. They were probably loving and kind.

A knock startled him from his thoughts.

“Hi, Leo?” A young man said, opening the door. He had a white coat on, and held his hand under the sanitizer before taking a seat at the computer.

“Hello,” Leo said nervously. He didn’t know this man.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Lupin. It’s good to meet you.”

“Where’s Dr. Perkins?”

“Oh, they didn’t tell you?” The doctor looked confused.

“No… tell me what?”

“Dr. Perkins retired. Yeah, just a few weeks ago. I’ve taken over her patients. I’m so sorry, I thought they got in touch with everyone.”

“Oh. It’s okay.” Leo studied the man in front of him, Dr. Lupin. He had sandy brown hair, stray curls falling in his eyes. He looked tall, fit. A thin scar ran from his left eyebrow to the line of his jaw. Leo didn’t want to know how he got that.

“Alright, well, what seems to be the issue, what’s brought you in today?”

“I’m pregnant,” Leo blurted out, hastily looking away from the scar.

“Oh?” He looked confused.

“Yeah, I’m uh, I’m trans. I don’t know if that’s marked in my chart, but… I am. Um, so. Yeah, I’m pregnant, according to the test I took this morning.”

“Oh, well congratulations!” Leo must’ve made a face because Dr. Lupin’s smile faded. “Not congratulations?” he corrected slowly.

Leo sighed. “I don’t want this baby. It wasn’t planned. I- I don’t even know if I can support a child. But I’m keeping it. I’m keeping it and raising it to be a good person.”

He’d decided on the busride over. He didn’t know if he could even raise a child, didn’t know how he was going to do it. But he also knew he couldn’t abort the baby.

As a child he’d dreamed of being a parent. Even when he knew he would never be a girl, never be a mother, he knew he wanted to raise a child. He wanted to do for someone what his own mother had done for him. But somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d lost sight of that dream. Earl had ruined it maybe, or maybe life had done that. But it didn’t matter, because he was going to do it, and prove to the world it couldn’t beat him that easily.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s get started, then.”

Dr. Lupin said a lot of things that Leo didn’t quite follow, about things to avoid and supplements to take. Leo didn’t really plan on taking any of them, didn’t have the money to afford them all. He also kept getting distracted by those slender hands brushing back stray curls. There was something oddly enticing about it.

“Does that all make sense?” he said finally, and Leo snapped out of his daze.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, it’s all on your record, which you should have access to. And if you ever have any questions, feel free to call.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Dr. Lupin nodded, and smiled.

“Wait!” Leo called out as he made to leave. “I um, I made this for you. Well, for Dr. Perkins. I always brought her a new pie when I came in for a visit. So uh, I guess it’s yours now.” Leo held out the wrapped pie, trying to hide his nerves. Carefully, Dr. Lupin took it.

“Well that’s awfully kind of you. What flavor is it?”

“I call it Mermaid Marshmallow.”

“Well, thank you very much. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

It was only once Dr. Lupin’s back had turned did Leo allow himself to smile.

#waitress au #o'knutzy #food cw #doctors cw #pregnancy #chapter 3 #club knocked up #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

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whimperwoods · 3 years

Text

Part 8 of Gozukk and Anna.

In this installment, many names? Family lore abounds. Anna is only mostly the center of attention, which is probably for the best. I am honestly only partially sure this chapter even counts as whump, but I just needed a nice breakfast and some nice new friends and for Anna to get some new Gozukk context before she has to do more scary things like go talk to a doctor.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with all the new names/characters.

tw: slavery (past), tw: past rape/noncon (barely referenced), tw: past abuse,

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping

****

Gozukk left a note for the half-elf, pinned to the inside of the tent flap, and let her sleep. He hoped she would wake for breakfast while others were still there for her to meet, but he also knew enough about her wounds, inside and out, to know she needed the sleep if she could get it.

He was talking to Azzor when her head poked tentatively out of the tent flap, glanced uneasily toward him and the others and the fire, and vanished back inside. His heart fell a little, though he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t expected the fear.

Azzor had noticed him watching something, and probably his face falling while he wasn’t thinking about keeping a front up. When he turned his gaze back to his best friend’s face, the general was already rolling his eyes. “Go on, it’s fine. You’ve gotten the key things from my report. I assume you’re staying around camp today?”

Gozukk nodded, looking back over at the tent, and trying to decide how offended he should be that Azzor wasn’t bothering to pretend he couldn’t read him like a book..

“This is that baby hawk all over again,” Azzor said, “Don’t be surprised when you find yourself bleeding even though you’re stronger than her.”

Gozukk’s face slid into a sideways grin. “Which baby hawk?”

“Exactly. It was like you liked having beak-sized gashes all up your arms.”

Something in Azzor’s eyes said he wasn’t upset, just wary, and Goz could live with that. “Anyway,” he answered, “This time, her wings are clipped. You have to acknowledge that’s different.”

“Fear is fear. You can’t expect something that scared and with that many reasons not to trust anther creature to decide you’re the safe thing.”

Gozukk scowled. “She’s not a something. She’s a someone.”

Az sighed. “I know, Gozukk. But elves can be dangerous, too. You know that.”

He did. He did. His face warmed over his cheekbones, and he found he couldn’t meet his best friend’s eyes. “I know, Az. It’s just -”

“You’ve never seen a broken wing you didn’t want to splint.”

Azzor sounded resigned more than he did disappointed, something hiding in his tone that told Gozukk they were still alright. A wave of calm washed through him. It was clear, then. It was clear what he was doing, even if all the rest - wasn’t.

As Gozukk stepped away, toward his tent, Azzor reached out and gripped his forearm. “You know I’m only paranoid because someone has to be, right, Goz?”

Gozukk gripped Azzor’s forearm in return. “And you know it’s why I made you General.”

Azzor squeezed his arm before letting go. “Go on, Mama Bird.”

“Papa Bird.”

“You’re never winning that one.”

Gozukk made a vague, dismissive noise and tried to hold onto the hope of the morning. There was breakfast. People were well-rested. The humans from yesterday were still a problem, but nothing new was looming over today. It was going to be a good day. It was.

Anna was still just inside the tent flap when he opened it, and she immediately flinched away from him, hard, one hand moving instinctively upward as if she might need to protect herself from being hit.

He wanted to reach for her shoulder, but he shouldn’t, and his body stiffened as he resisted the impulse. She took a half-step backward, bobbing her head into a series of quick half-bows. “Oh, umm... I’m sorry Sir - Mr. Gozukk - I’m - I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “I knew you were here, just didn’t realize you were still at the door.” He reached forward and brushed her hair behind her ear, never quite touching her head, and was pleased to find the little bobs stopping, even if she didn’t seem much calmer.

He pushed the tent flap open farther and stepped inside, moving around her with a few extra inches space to spare.

As soon as the flap closed, blocking out the morning sun, it was harder to hold onto the hope that today would be better. But then, it didn’t have to be, did it? It just needed to not be worse.

He dropped down into a comfortable squat, rather than making her look up, and her eyebrows raised in surprised as he peered at her face from below.

Her hands fluttered anxiously in front of her. “Oh - I -”

He held his hands out, hoping she’d give him hers and stay standing, rather than collapsing again. It was worth a try, anyway, and if she did fall down to her knees, at least he was already close enough to make eye contact.

“Oh!” she said again, softer this time. She placed her hands tentatively into his, her cheeks brightening into a blush.

Her hands were so small in his, immediately swallowed up even by his loosest, gentlest grasp. The bandages around her palms did a little bit to camouflage the narrow palms, but couldn’t disguise the delicacy of the slender, shaking fingers resting against his palm.

He held her hands as gently as he could manage. “Anna,” he began seriously, “I need you to listen to me, and I need you to tell me the truth. We have time, and there is no rush. Are you ready to meet people, or would you like me to bring breakfast in here?”

Her breathing shallowed, and her eyes started darting around, frightened, but she didn’t have much of anywhere else to look, not with him squatting down to look at her from under her hair, and not when she couldn’t twist away without pulling her hands out of his (admittedly loose) grip.

She blushed harder. “I can do it, Mas-” she flinched, her eyes blinking closed for a second and then meeting his fully as she corrected herself, big and pleading. “Gozukk. I can do it . . . Gozukk.” Her voice trailed away to near silence, and he decided she’d been stressed out enough. He gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze and then stood back up.

“Excellent. We’ll get you some breakfast over by where Djaana’s sitting, so you’ll have a familiar face nearby. I’ll tell the kids not to bother you.”

“Th-Thank you . . . Gozukk.”

She still seemed to be struggling with his name, but allowed him to usher her out of the tent, holding the flap open for her.

The adults in the camp made a point of not staring, in spite of the curiosity in their passing glances, but the children gawped openly, and Anna shrank closer to his side, pulling in on herself.

It felt good for her to cringe closer rather than farther away, as much as he didn’t like watching her stay so afraid. Fear is fear, Azzor had said, and backed into a corner, he was right, but Anna was a person and not a bird, and he had to hope for better.

Djaana smiled at both of them as they approached, her youngest, still just a toddler, ducking behind her calves and peering out at Gozukk and the stranger.

“How’s your back feeling this morning?” Djaana asked, her tone casual, as though this were a normal morning chat. “Mukzod is back in camp if you’d like a healer to take a look. You can go with Dumul, when he goes to train.”

Gozukk’s oldest nephew raised a hand, waving in Anna’s direction. “That’s me.”

Anna dropped into a curtsy. “Pleased to meet you.”

Dumul bowed back without rising from his feet, a deep polite nod. Gozukk’s heart warmed. Dumul and his cousin had both been a handful lately, insisting on taking new responsibilities and getting away from home, both of them only recently grown into their limbs, so that Gozukk still imagined them as lanky adolescents and was surprised when they came into view and weren’t.

Beside Dumul, Enzah rose to her feet, moving carefully and slowly toward him and Anna to avoid startling the girl, apparently having been briefed on the girl’s terror even though she’d been gone with the scouts yesterday. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, well-carved wooden comb.

“Hey, Anna,” she said gently, “My aunt told me about you. I went with some scouts yesterday to find the campsites the caravan used before, and I thought this might be yours.”

Anna backed up slightly, almost bumping against Gozukk’s side. “Oh! Um, n-no ma’am. I’m - that was - part of the cargo.”

Her face had paled a little, and Gozukk could feel her shaking just inches from him.

“Thank you, Enzah, that was kind,” he said, “Why don’t you keep it as spoils?”

She grinned, something in the expression reminding him painfully of his late brother as she did, but he needed to stay in the here and now.

“I’m not a very good medic yet,” Dumul said, “But if you’d like me to look at your hand before you eat, I can try a small healing spell. Elder Mazogga says I should focus more on slow medicine before I learn the fast way, but a little magic can’t hurt.”

Anna’s hand closed into a fist as she pulled her hand closer to her chest, almost as if on instinct.

Dumul held his hands up, palms toward her, “Or if you’re not ready, that’s fine, too. I know Uncle’s had enough battle wounds to dress them well.”

“Better than you,” Djaana commented affectionately, “You should have listened to Mazogga.”

Dumul nodded deeply, conceding the point, but they all knew they couldn’t really regret him choosing to do healer’s training first, before medicine. Enzah stretched, letting her shirt ride up to reveal the messy scar across her stomach where she’d nearly been disemboweled a few months ago, and Gozukk felt a familiar small spike of fear as he thought about the fact that she’d been allowed to go scouting again with the rest of her training cohort, even to a place as safe as an abandoned camp.

Mel had been peering out from behind her mother’s legs with more and more confidence as they all stood still, and finally tugged on Djaana’s hand, “I go Uncle Gokukk?” she asked in a whisper that wasn’t really a whisper.

“Why don’t you go see if Uncle Gozukk wants to see you?” Djaana answered back.

The girl’s eyes brightened and she took off running on her chubby little legs, closing the distance between them so fast Gozukk barely had time to squat down and open his arms to catch her. She shrieked with giggles as he scooped her up and tossed her into the air, only to catch her again and hold her steady this time, plenty aware that baby cuddles didn’t last forever.

Mel buried her face against his shoulder and peered sideways at Anna, who seemed to have calmed down a little, too.

“Anna, this is my niece Mel. Mel, can you say hi to Anna?”

The toddler looked up and waved at the half-elf, but then buried her face back in his shoulder, suddenly shy. He laughed. “Good job, Mel. Do you want to let Anna say hi, too?”

Mel turned her head to the side to look at Anna and the half-elf spoke quickly, still clearly on edge. “Oh! Hi, Mel. I’m - I’m Anna.”

He introduced her to everyone around the circle, explaining that Jak was off with a friend, but she’d seen him yesterday, and his brother-in-law was away on a long hunt, back in a few days.

Finally, he settled her down in a spot by the fire next to Enzah. Usually, he’d have said Dumul was the less intimidating of the two, but he knew Anna was wary of men. It was reassuring when Enz immediately started talking to her in a calmer, softer voice than usual, offering her food and fussing over her a little bit, more like Djaana than like her late father. He smiled softly and relaxed. She’d always been a good girl, and he knew he could trust her to try her best, even if assuaging people’s fears wasn’t exactly her strongest skill.

He moved around the camp, talking briefly with various groups of people, but with half an eye on Anna the whole time, never straying too far to get back to her quickly if he needed to.

By the time Mel was wiggling to be let down and he had to return to his sister, it was clear both that his family was happy to accept Anna, and that it was a little overwhelming for her. She’d eaten, though he couldn’t imagine Enzah hadn’t been a little harsh about forcing the issue if Anna had been as reluctant as yesterday. Her arms were back around her middle, and something in her eyes looked half-dazed, her body hunched small next to his niece’s casual lanky sprawl.

Sending Mel toddling back to her mother, he crouched down beside Anna, whose brown-green eyes met his immediately this time, half desperate. He brushed her hair behind her ear again, a quick gesture of reassurance. “One more stop, and then I think you probably need more rest. Djaana’s not wrong. A visit to the healer or the midwife wouldn’t go amiss, now that you’re settled in a little bit.”

Anna’s eyes teared up and she started shaking again, eliciting a glare from Enzah he could feel burning into the side of his face, as if there were anything he could do about this.

He patted his niece casually on the shoulder as he rose to his feet, then offered a hand to Anna to help her up.

She took it immediately, quick enough this time to surprise him, though not unwelcomely. He guided her to Mukzod’s tent without quite touching her elbow, aware even without making contact that she was trembling again, but this time as she walked close to him, she at least seemed to be staying close, rather than trying to disappear into his side entirely, which seemed like a good sign.

“Before we go in to the tent,” he said gently, “I need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable. Mukzod heals with help from the gods, and I can promise you he won’t call down any kind of magic to hurt you. But if you’re afraid, you don’t have to be healed at all. I just also want to make sure there’s no kind of tracking magic or curse on you. And if that’s all he does, that’s alright.”

Anna nodded, but she wasn’t meeting his eyes, looking down at the ground instead, and he didn’t know whether to believe her. Either way, it was best to remove the bandage quickly. He nodded back to her and called into the tent for Mukzod’s permission to enter.

#d&d whump #past abuse tw #past slavery tw #hurt/comfort #whump #fluff #might make a masterpost and a family tree/character list #bc at this point that seems useful #i knew he had 2 nieces and 2 nephews but i did not know djaana's oldest was gonna be a doctor #what a nice surprise #dumul is an extremely good boy #also the cousins are 3 days apart so people were calling them 'the twins' even before her parents died and haven't exactly stopped #no one will ever challenge gozukk to take over leadership because he is a force to be reckoned with in battle #but does he secretly just want to toss his sister's baby in the air and make her giggle forever? maybe #his niblings keep growing up on him and it's tragic

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haloud · 3 years

Text

things we could burn in one go (eminence) -- chapter 10

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Alex and Forrest struggle to understand each other in the wake of their breakup; Alex makes a shocking discovery at the Long farm.

Excerpt:

The corner of Forrest’s mouth twitched, as did one eyebrow, and his stance softened slightly. “No serenade? No boombox? No diamonds? There goes that fantasy.”

It was true; Alex had come here empty-handed, the way he brought himself to every step of their relationship. All the things he had inside him, all the things he had to give, he’d failed to deliver any of them in a way that Forrest needed. He’d made do with illusions, convincing ones, convincing enough to fool even himself into thinking he was built any other way than this. He was a problem-solver, a provider; it was bitter medicine to learn that brute-forcing himself into the proper shape for someone else only hurt everyone involved.

Alex ducked his head with an infinitesimal smile of his own. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Forrest shook his head. “Honestly, I’m just kind of surprised you’re even here. I thought I’d be waiting until I decided to come to you. And shouldn’t you be at work right now?”

“I took a half day,” Alex replied. He’d taken tomorrow off as well to prepare for their planning session, but Forrest didn’t need to know that. “I didn’t want to make either of us wait. Not for this.”

(Wednesday, 14:00)

The Long family home was leagues from the old barn and the fallen tree, but an odd sort of almost-nostalgia sloshed in Alex’s stomach as he approached the house all the same. He had only been back here a few times since he and Forrest met; it wasn’t a part of their relationship; it was more convenient to spend their time at Alex’s, where there was no one to bother them. When they spent the night together, it was in Alex’s bed, and the sex they had was there too, unless Forrest knew for sure Wyatt was gone and not coming back. That thought only made it stranger, how Alex had never quite gotten used to sharing his space with him, sharing a bed, sharing a life. For the thousandth time he wondered what was wrong with him, but he took a deep breath and cut that feeling loose and let it float away. What good was a question with no answer to him now? It was a search he’d never finish, and he would have to learn to live with it.

It felt wrong to leave something before it was finished. To turn his back on a piece of himself before examining every inch of it under the light, to cut loose a string without following it to its end and seeing where it led. But to force it would only make things worse, and he’d done enough of that already.

By the time Alex parked, shut off his car, and gathered his willpower to approach the house, the door was open, and Forrest was waiting for him on the porch. He looked…great. Normal. He’d touched up his hair; his eyes were well-rested and sharp; his fingers and neck dripped with jewelry, and Alex could recognize the look for the armor it was. His own leather jacket was a solid weight across his shoulders.

“Hey,” he said with an awkward wave.

The corner of Forrest’s mouth twitched, as did one eyebrow, and his stance softened slightly. “No serenade? No boombox? No diamonds? There goes that fantasy.”

Alex ducked his head with an infinitesimal smile of his own. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Forrest shook his head. “Honestly, I’m just kind of surprised you’re even here. I thought I’d be waiting until I decided to come to you. And shouldn’t you be at work right now?”

Forrest just snorted and moved aside, sitting in a rocking chair and nudging the one beside it with his foot. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

Sitting, they were silent for a while, the world peaceful around them—birds chirping, sun shining, the whole nine yards. Alex watched a small lizard creep across the dirt below the porch railing until it disappeared beneath the house.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told you about Michael. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry for how I acted and the things I said.”

He swallowed, grimaced, almost, the words juvenile and inadequate to his own ears.

“About Michael staying with you, or…about Michael,” Forrest replied, guarded.

“The first one. Well—both, as it turns out. I thought…I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m sorry for not telling you that Michael was staying over; that was shitty, I knew the whole time it was shitty, and I did it anyway because I didn’t want to fight. But at the same time, I had no idea you were worried about, well, me cheating on you.”

Sighing, Forrest said, “I told you, man. Unfinished business. It’s kind of visible from space. Before this, I wouldn’t even have thought I was a jealous person, can you believe that? I should have said something to you, but I thought I could just power through it.”

“I guess we both learned things about ourselves,” Alex said wryly. “I didn’t think I had anything to hide, but when it came time to say something about Michael to you, I just clammed up. Would I have felt that way if it was Kyle staying over? Probably not. But I wasn’t thinking about it like that.”

“Huh.” Forrest paused. He rocked his chair slowly forward and back, hands folded on his stomach.

“Did I act weird? Shifty, like I was hiding something?” Alex asked, awkward and vulnerable, embarrassed at how poorly he knew himself, how poorly he knew how he should have acted to not even know that much.

“No, not really. Well, you were pretty distant, but,” he shrugged, “there’s nothing wrong with needing space. It was just…you know, you sang that song at the Pony when we got together, and I had an inkling it was about Guerin, but for some reason I thought I could handle it. Dating a guy who was in love with someone else, who was trying to move on. But it didn’t work like that, huh.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex repeated weakly. “I really thought I was ready. I didn’t mean to lie to you; mostly I was lying to myself. But I know it doesn’t make it any better.”

“Can I ask you a question? Point blank?”

“Um, sure. Go ahead.”

“Were you cheating on me with Guerin?”

“No.” That, at least, he could say firm and clear.

Forrest took a deep breath, dropped his eyes, then looked out across the desert. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.”

Briefly, Alex had to push down the urge to lash out defensively like he had during their previous fight. Had he really done so much to deserve that scrutiny while they were together?

“Thank you,” he said, not sure of what else needed to be.

“I appreciate you coming here and being honest. I mean…it still kind of stings for things to end this way, but. I do appreciate it. And, well, I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

“Showing up and exploding like that without giving you some warning. I mean, I’m kind of not sorry it brought things to a head in the end, but it was still rude.”

“No, I should’ve—”

Forrest held up a hand to stall Alex. “No, seriously, dude. The martyr act is cute, but I’m a big boy. Your house is covered in cameras, and you need like two weeks of warning for a coffee date; I knew better than to think showing up like that would be a cute surprise.”

“Oh. Um.” Alex floundered for a way to respond to that. He felt seen, pinned under the lamp of an insight he hadn’t known Forrest had. It was itchy.

“Um, thanks. For the apology. And I get what you mean, about being sorry it happened but not sorry that…well. I really am sorry it ended this way.” If not that it was ending at all.

“Are you?” Forrest raised an eyebrow. “You’re a free agent now. I half-expect Guerin to send me flowers by Saturday.”

Alex winced. But still, he said, “Okay, that’s fair. We kind of, um…”

Forrest let out an ugly snort. “You know, most people double check after a fight like that. Damn, I’m glad I was already planning on breaking up with you for good if you hadn’t gotten the message.”

“I…I know. The way it happened, it just…” Alex sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “I won’t make excuses. You have every right to be mad.”

“I am mad. And hurt,” Forrest said matter-of-factly. “But maybe not as much as I thought I’d be, once the shock cooled off.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah.” A smile flickered on Forrest’s mouth, and he shrugged. “Looking back on it, it kind of feels like we’d been forcing it for a while, huh.”

Alex matched him hesitant smile for hesitant smile. Between them there were stacks of stilted conversations and unmade plans, awkward mornings and missed connections. From the morning Fields barged into Alex’s life to the moment he thought he saw his brother at the airport, in the past few weeks there were a number of times Alex had found himself unable to reach out across a gap and meet Forrest there. He’d thought it was just something wrong with him; it was an unbelievable relief to find that Forrest felt the same.

“You might be right,” he confessed.

“Yeah, I think I am,” Forrest sighed. “Damn. That’s probably why my head went straight to cheating.”

“You don’t have to find a way to even that scale,” Alex replied, shaking his head. “I was wrong; I won’t back down from that. But Michael aside, I never wanted to hurt you, Forrest. And I’m sorry I did.”

Forrest chewed on his lip, an old nervous habit. He had a pinprick scar just there, a souvenir from a piercing he’d grown out of, and when Alex would kiss him there, he’d smile. Alex was walking away from this with warm memories, sweet new patterns in the weaving of his life, unexpected treasures. And that in itself was something to cherish, no matter how much their relationship faded into history.

“Yeah, well, same here.”

“You didn’t hurt me, now you’re the one trying to even the scale—” Alex protested.

Forrest cut him off. “I like you, Alex, and I liked our jam sessions, and you made my time in Roswell suck so much less than I thought it would. But there’s a universe where we’re sitting on opposite ends of this, because my book is way more almost done than I’d let on to you just yet, so. Thanks for being such an almost-two-timing emotionally constipated jerk so when I tell my friends this story five years from now I can totally get all the sympathy.”

Alex let out a surprised snort that turned into laughter, and Forrest joined him, if a little more subdued than he’d normally be.

When they collected themselves, Forrest wiped some wetness away from his eyes and said, “Seriously, though, Alex, I hope he makes you happy. Because I don’t think we did that for each other, in the long run.”

“I hope that for you, too, Forrest,” Alex replied softly. “You deserve someone way less fucked up than me.”

“Nah, cut that crap out. We’re all a little bit fucked up.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“It is true. You, me, whoever I date next. My old granny,” he said with the first true smile of the afternoon. “And Guerin, too.”

His smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared, and he leaned forward, reaching out and putting his hand on Alex’s knee; Alex almost shied away, but he forced himself to stay still.

“I just want to make sure,” Forrest said, voice gentle—a gentleness Alex didn’t trust. His composure broke, and he drew back, the slight movement causing Forrest to drop his hand. He continued, “Guerin…he’s what you want? Truly, this is what you want?”

“Yes,” Alex snapped, no hesitation.

“Okay. Just, if you’re sure. If this is really your choice.”

Alex’s patience ripped clean in two. “I know the two of you spent some time together at the library,” he said, voice level and deliberate, “but from what I can tell, you don’t know him at all, so spare me this paternalism, okay? I can make my own choices. Whatever assumptions you’re making—”

“Okay! Okay.” Forrest held his hands up in surrender, but it did nothing to cool Alex’s temper. “I just had to ask.”

“Well, there’s your answer.”

“Noted.”

Alex stood stiffly, and Forrest followed just a second behind. They stood and stared at each other for a few seconds, Alex waiting for him to make a move, Forrest waiting for something Alex couldn’t figure.

Then Forrest stuck out his hand. In the same motion, Alex half-turned, made himself sideways, a smaller target, flowing out of the path if that hand continued forward in a blow. But no, it stayed still halfway between them. Forrest didn’t comment on his reaction. Alex reached out and shook his hand.

“I’ll see you around sometime,” Forrest said. His smile crinkled up the corners of his eyes.

“Take care of yourself, Forrest,” Alex replied.

He left the Long farm the same way he came, down the same dirt road, down the same path in his head, with the same almost-nostalgia. Leaving looked a hundred different ways, and he’d been a hundred different times, but this time the scenery was new, and he was ready to be home.

(15:00)

A lot of work went into making Alex’s house a home.

When he moved from the Valenti cabin closer to town, it was out of necessity, even if it took him a long time to admit it. It was a victory over his own stubbornness and solitude and maladaptive independence, a concession to comfort that surprised even himself. It made his life better. He was closer to work; he was closer to his friends; he had an accessible bathroom, and something he’d considered so small before helped him along a journey he’d barely acknowledged toward accepting and appreciating the body he lived in now. But changing environments wasn’t easy for him. He’d had to put a year’s worth of care into finding the perfect location and fitting the house there to be someplace he could feel secure without complete solitude for miles around him, between the cameras and the vantage point of the patio and the orientation of his bedroom within the house and just everything from top to bottom. He’d fought hard. He won.

And then he came home from breaking up with his ex-boyfriend to find a strange car in his driveway.

Well, not entirely strange. He’d seen it once before. But when he saw it, it was from the vantage point of his own front door, not from the outside.

The car had room to park in the driveway because Michael’s truck was gone, and that was the only mercy Alex knew as he parked in the street and unholstered his gun. Michael wasn’t here; he was safe with Isobel or Max or Sanders or someone—someone who wasn’t Alex, who thought he had a safe space, a space to protect Michael, but in the end had nothing at all. The house hadn’t been empty since Michael’s injury, but now that he was on the mend, it was at times. Michael was alone at times.

Was this the first time Fields had come by? What was stopping her from returning with backup and taking Michael away?

Gun in one hand, phone in the other, there was one defensive maneuver on Alex’s mind before he confronted his enemy.

Michael answered quickly, though every second felt like an eternity as Alex watched Fields watch him, face expressionless, body language placid in her place between him and his own front door.

“Alex—” His voice came through, so light and happy it stole the breath from Alex’s chest. He was okay. He wasn’t shoved in the back of a van, chained and muffled and senseless, his truck abandoned in a ditch somewhere in the desert.

He didn’t let him finish. “Thank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?”

Worry stole the light from Michael’s tone, but Alex could beat himself up for causing that later. “Alex? I’m fine, I’m at the Pony, what’s wrong—”

Alex repeated, “Thank god. Don’t come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.”

“What? No!”

Alex hung up on him and stowed his phone before leaving the car and crossing the street.

“Captain!” Fields said cheerfully from one of his patio chairs. Her eyes flicked down and clocked Alex’s weapon held at his side, but her demeanor didn’t change.

“What is this about? Get off my property,” Alex almost snarled.

“Sure, Captain. Your call.”

She stood, adjusted her skirt, and pulled her phone from her pocket. It couldn’t have rung more than once before she said, all lightness gone from her tone, “Get me Sgt. Manes.”

Cold clarity broke over Alex’s head and trickled through his veins. His arms snapped up and locked into place, gun pointed directly at Fields, unwavering.

“Hang up,” he ordered.

“You’re in control here,” she replied. “I’ve given you all the time in the world, and now I’m giving you more.” She angled her phone away from her face so he could hear the tinny hold music blaring from the speaker. “If you’re going to keep avoiding me, I’m going to call someone in who has answers and gets results. Or are you prepared to do that for me?”

The music measured the seconds as Alex considered his options, mind apart from motionless body. Project Shepherd, the source of so much pain, so many nightmares. He still didn’t really know what Fields wanted from him, except to continue his father’s work.

But he didn’t have to do that, did he? Put him at the helm of the Project, and he could quietly shut it down from the inside, erase it from existence, reduce it down to nothing. Euthanasia of a legacy.

In a perfect world, if Alex were a perfect man, he would. The path was paved with solid golden intention—but the end of it was hazy. How many times had Alex seen a stranger in the mirror and known he needed to get away from the military to find himself again behind his father’s shadow, and how many times had he made a different decision? How could he be sure this time would be different, that he wouldn’t find reason after reason that Project Shepherd was a necessary evil, that with himself heading it, he was keeping his loved ones safe, working for the greater good, even if they didn’t understand—all in the same uniform of generations, the uniform Michael could barely look at?

So, then, the other choice. Walk away. Let Fields call in Flint or promote some other career man to do what they would, set their traps, work in secret for the eradication of a threat that might never come at the expense of everything Alex held dear. No control, no insight, how many times would he have to fear the ultimate loss, Michael, dead, Maria, dead, their loved ones, dead, their accusing eyes on him.

The uniform laid to rest and packed away, a closed chapter in a life that still had so much living worth in it.

The music looped. Alex’s steady arm began to ache. He was running out of time.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Fields said, voice low and convincing past the jangling notes and Alex’s own pounding heartbeat. “This work isn’t just your legacy, it’s rewarding in its own right. Have you ever wanted to settle down, have a family? This offer comes with total security. No more moving around, way less following orders. I’m sure your lover would appreciate it too—”

That snapped Alex out of his frozen poise, the clanging dissonance making him snort. “My lover? You’re a little late with that one; we just broke up.” He dropped his gun hand. “Hang up the phone. Here’s your answer.”

“Go ahead.”

“The answer’s no.”

Fields’s face turned down, but, true to her word, she pressed end call. Alex reholstered his gun.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I was looking forward to working with you. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I hope so too,” Alex replied, surprising even himself that he’d be that candid. But something about Fields’s demeanor diminished with the threat of Flint on hold, almost like she’d pushed so hard because this was something she wanted, rather than something she was under orders to obtain.

Even with her phone silent, though, it represented the same thing—a direct line to Flint, an accessory to a job offer, putting someone with his track record highly placed to wreak havoc. But if Alex made all his decisions based on that fear, he’d never be free. He’d spend the rest of his life running into airport bathrooms after strangers.

And maybe he would anyway. Refusing to let himself be intimidated this once wouldn’t eradicate the real threat the aliens lived under every day. But allowing himself to live between those moments—he owed himself that much.

Shocking Alex further, Fields stuck out her hand, and he shook it.

“Apologies if I was overzealous, sir. I’ve been told I need to work on my impulsivity.”

“It’s—” Alex let out a weak laugh. “Water under the bridge, Lieutenant. What’s with this change of attitude?”

She shrugged. “Disappointment, I guess. A little embarrassment that I waited so long for no payoff. But I won’t force the issues. My superiors have other options.”

There was a veiled threat in there, too, but Alex was too tired to force the issue either. For the second time today, he resigned himself to walking away from stalemate.

“Goodbye, Lieutenant,” he said, stepping aside to let her get to her car.

“Goodbye, Captain.”

The last Alex saw of her was the back of her head driving away. And when she disappeared into the heat haze, he collapsed back into a chair, muscles weak and vision swimming. He stuck his head between his knees and sucked in deep breaths until he landed back inside his body.

When he could stand again, he did, pointing his body toward the door and marching inside. The door was still locked: no sign of forced entry anywhere, not in the front or the back or any of the windows Alex checked methodically, sash, latch, frame. The safe and medicine cabinet were both untouched; he checked each twice; he opened every closet and cabinet door on autopilot. He got on the floor to check beneath both beds; he pulled back the shower curtains.

And when there were no more places to check, he stood in the center of his house, staring down his own cameras, trying to break through the walls his own brain put down around him, trying to regain control.

So on edge, Alex wheeled around seconds before a car screeched into the driveway, the pounding of feet, the scrape of a key in the lock and the door thrown open, and—

“Alex!” Michael cried.

He bounded around the corner, wild-eyed and frantic, and as soon as he spotted Alex standing there, he rushed to him, arms already outstretched. Alex barely got his own arms up in time to catch him, but he didn’t need to; Michael was enough for both of them, steady and strong and there, solid arms around Alex, almost lifting him an inch off his feet. His hands clutched at Alex’s back with a desperation that registered only dimly.

“Alex,” he breathed again, holding him, if possible, even closer, pressing their foreheads together and sucking in a deep shuddery breath. “You’re okay, fuck, I was so scared—”

“I told you to stay away,” Alex said weakly.

Michael’s answering laugh was just as weak, almost hysterical. “You know I’m a rebel.”

They drifted like that for a minute or two, Michael’s warm, soft-rough palms cradling Alex’s face, grounding the both of them, letting their souls settle. Then, he stepped back, those hands on Alex’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length.

“You’re okay? You’re not hurt? That phone call—you scared the shit out of me, Alex, what the hell happened?”

“When I got home, Fields was waiting for me.”

“What? Fuck!”

“I freaked out, I had to make sure you were safe, that you stayed safe—”

“Are you safe? What did she want? What did she do?”

“I’m fine. Physically, I’m fine,” Alex let his eyes fall shut, wrapping his hands around Michael’s wrists, fragile bones in his grip, and he let Michael hold him, shutting off his senses.

“Okay. Okay, Alex. I’ve got you,” Michael rasped, pressing into him even closer.

“I told her no,” Alex blurted out, pressing right back, starting them swaying back and forth. There was no other way to get close enough but to push and pull, no matter how much they tried to meld themselves into one.

“What?”

“Fields, I—I told her no. No Project Shepherd. No.”

“Alex.”

Michael’s fingers sought across his face, stroking, feeling, calloused finger pads on his brows, his cheekbones, fit so gently against the line of his jaw, tracing his lips and the corners of his eyes, and then Michael’s lips caressed him too, forehead, nose, then mouth, and by the time he was done, Alex’s breath hitched and his body shook.

“I love you,” Michael whispered. “I love you so much. You are—you are so fucking strong, you know that? I know, I know how hard this is, but I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” Alex replied helplessly.

“It’s going to be okay, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, Michael spoke with confidence, such a tiny, intimate assurance, no matter how unlikely, no matter how utopian, like a siren it sung to Alex to let go, to give his fear and stress over into Michael’s hands, and he needed somewhere physical for that feeling to go, so he looped his arms loosely around Michael’s neck and rested there.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he admitted. “I don’t know how bad I fucked up—I don’t know how long she was here before I got back—there was no sign of entry, and I checked the house, but I don’t know—I don’t know—”

“Let’s sit down, okay? I’ll get you something to drink, and your meds, if you want, and I’ll, uh, let me tell Max he can go home…” Michael said sheepishly.

“Max?”

“Yeah, he was with me when you called and wasn’t gonna let me rush over here by myself if there was trouble.”

“Good man,” Alex said weakly.

Moving stiff, he sat on the couch. Michael flitted around him for a second, adjusting pillows, giving him a blanket, fingers trailing over him like he wasn’t quite willing to be out of arm’s length. He tore himself away, though, and Alex tracked him from one end of the house to the other, front door, bathroom, kitchen, and when he came back to Alex’s side he was barefoot, glass of water and pill bottle in hand, and he sat on the floor below Alex, leaning back against him, folding himself so his forehead rested against Alex’s hip and Alex could rest his hand in Michael’s hair.

“They’re not going to take you,” Alex promised. “No matter what it takes, whether I told her yes or no, I won’t let them have you.”

“I know,” Michael replied. “But I won’t let you give yourself up, either. We’re together. In everything. No matter what happens.”

“No—”

“That’s why I didn’t listen to you when you told me to stay away,” Michael explained, lifting his head enough to look Alex in the eye. He was as serious as Alex had ever seen him. “You can’t ask that of me. We stand together. That’s…that’s a line in the sand, okay?”

Alex swallowed. “I can’t promise I won’t say something like that again.”

“I know. But just understand—whenever you do, I’m gonna disobey.”

Alex’s eyes slipped shut, lips pressed together, riding out the fear, the straight shot of catastrophe in his brain. Michael’s words, so clear and steady, so different from the people they’d been, the places their relationship languished. Alex had to respect that, even knowing it would likely cause them to fight for the rest of their lives.

“I love you,” he repeated, the best acknowledgment he could give.

Michael smiled, crinkling the corners of his honey-sweet eyes, and Alex twisted a hand in the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward into a deep, sweeping kiss. He moved easy with every move of Alex’s, half-crouched to crawling up onto Alex’s thighs, then onto the couch to straddle his lap, his hot mouth driving deep against Alex’s. Alex’s hands went to his hair, gripping and tugging those soft curls, sliding down his back and back up, they made out on the couch like the teenagers they used to be.

Pulling back to breathe, but not so far Alex couldn’t shift to kissing down his throat and chest, Michael panted, “Bedroom? Do we wanna—should we--?”

“Uh,” Alex stalled out, the light from the window warm where it pooled, Michael’s hardening cock warm where it pressed against Alex’s belly through their clothes. The world was out there, the camera, in the corner, and Alex weighed his options, immediate gratification versus comfort and privacy.

Did they have any privacy, anyway? The image of Fields waiting, alone, at his house, free reign to tamper with whatever she wanted, haunted the edges of Alex’s mind.

“Alex?” Michael asked softly, brushing his fingertips through the overlong ends of his hair.

Their faces were only inches apart, their breaths mingling between lips and lungs, and there wasn’t anything Alex would let keep them from nurturing the happiness finally within their grasp.

“Yes,” Alex said, palming Michael’s hips, “Yes, bedroom.”

Sliding off his lap, Michael reached out a hand, and Alex took it, heat zinging up his arm where they were joined. Michael led the way until they reached the bedroom, where he hesitated beside the bed, watching Alex under his lashes. So Alex sat, pulling him by his belt loops back to straddle his lap like he had on the couch, running his hands up and down Michael’s body as he settled in, his own arms warm and solid around Alex’s neck.

The world held still, then, their eyes locked, electric and hypnotic, Alex’s hands twitching where they rested on Michael’s strong thighs, the scent of rain sharp and sweet in his nose and mouth with every inhale, every breath made tactile in puffs of heat in the space between them. The longer the moment stretched, the higher the temperature climbed, blood filling Alex’s cheeks, blood filling his cock as he waited for Michael’s next move.

That move was to lower his lips to Alex’s once again, slipping his hot, velvet tongue behind Alex’s lips and along his own tongue, flicking it against the roof of his mouth as he opened and relaxed into the languid kiss. As their mouths moved, so did Michael’s hands, cupping his neck then sliding down his shoulders to his chest. He dragged his thumbnails across Alex’s nipples, making him gasp and hiss, and Alex could feel the wicked smirk spread across his mouth even as he didn’t let up, nibbling his lower lip. Hips beginning to sway, Michael’s hands finished their journey at Alex’s waist, under his shirt and tugging it up—it was unthinkable to separate them, but they managed to wrench their mouths apart long enough to pull Alex’s shirt over his head—and then back down, he fumbled with the button on Alex’s jeans, fighting for access to his hardening cock.

Not to be outpaced, Alex did the same, making short work of Michael’s button and zipper even as he was distracted by the heat and velvet and texture of his chest and the sweet line of hair pointing down to his cock. Michael got up on his knees to shimmy his jeans down under his ass, tugging Alex’s off too, and when they were down to just the thin cotton of their underwear Michael let out a soft wavery sound, buzzing right into Alex’s mouth so he could taste the pleasure on it, frotting their cocks together, rubbing the weight of his body down against Alex. With every grind, his ass rolled against Alex’s thighs, a delicious tease, but not tonight, not tonight, it didn’t have to be tonight, taking everything of each other, they had so much time to explore every facet of their intimacy, every way to make each other climax, complete, come up and down all on each other.

“Come on, Michael,” Alex murmured, holding his hips as he ground down again. “C’mon, c’mon.”

“Alex,” Michael whispered back, all reverence.

“You’re so—fucking—” Beautiful, hot, incredible, amazing, all words that Alex didn’t even need to say, saying would cheapen them, and they had a better language, anyway. He tugged at the waistband of Michael’s boxers, and Michael’s dick bobbed free, hard and hot and Alex wrapped a hand around it, luxuriating in the texture and weight of it in his hand. He gave it one easy, loose stroke and Michael shuddered, another little sound falling from his lips.

They got into a rhythm quick—Michael slid his hand into Alex’s underwear to match him stroke for stroke, their hips moving in time, knuckles brushing every time they came together. Alex rolled his thumb over Michael’s slit and dragged the drop of precum collected down his vein, then let out a bitten-off cry when Michael did the same. Even the things Alex could predict were surprising at Michael’s hands.

After minutes of this, after sweat slicked the pace between them, hearts pounding, senses flooded, Michael shifted even closer, chasing Alex’s hand away as it came up his shaft, so he could wrap them both up and jerk them together, fast and rough, both of them fucked Michael’s hand and fucked against each other, Alex’s teeth on Michael’s ear, Michael’s lips against his cheek. Alex dug his nails into the meat of Michael’s shoulders, riding out every wave of pleasure until finally he came in messy, artless spurts over Michael’s hand.

Michael followed shortly behind, a stuttering moan and a pulse of pleasure, and then they both fell back onto the mattress, panting and laughing. They rolled toward each other like magnets, Michael slipping a leg between Alex’s thighs.

“It’s going to be okay,” Michael promised, serenity and certainty in every line of his face, and Alex sighed, pulling his hand to his chest and holding it there.

Michael couldn’t make that promise. Alex couldn’t make that promise. He had, before, and the universe turned it into a cruel joke. Believing it now would be a hard-fought battle.

“As long as we’re together, we’ll get through it,” Michael amended, and it drew a small smile to Alex’s face.

“I’ll do everything I can.”

“I know you will. But you don’t have to do it alone. You aren’t doing it alone.”

Alex answered him with another kiss, sealing it as truth between them.

(Thursday, 07:00)

Michael watched Alex through one lovely tawny eye as he went through the room double-checking there was no stray shirt of Forrest’s or toy of Buffy’s to collect before he made his last trip to the Long farm, to put paid to his and Forrest’s relationship once and for all.

“It’s early,” he said muzzily, through lips still mashed to the sheets warm with his sleep.

“I don’t want to keep this waiting,” Alex said with a wave of his hand, grabbing the bag of Forrest’s things. “Not while I have the day off. Get this done, then get back with plenty of time to prepare for our meeting.”

“Mmm, so efficient.”

“I do my best,” Alex said, hoping it came off as charming. “What are you up to today?”

Raising himself up on his hands, Michael arched his back in a luxurious stretch, muscles shifting in the early morning sun. He groaned as his muscles clenched and released and a couple joints popped, then said in his sweet early-morning rasp, “I should put in a couple hours at Sanders’s. Do we know everyone is coming today? Should I cut out early and meet you back here, or will you guys just be coming to the junkyard anyway?”

“I’ll touch base with everyone, but we’ll probably come to you.”

“Sounds good.” Michael stretched again, then swung his legs around to sit on the bed. One side of his face was flushed, one side of his curls scrunched. A bubble of light filled up Alex’s chest, and he cradled it so carefully, letting it show on his face, just for Michael.

Smiling back at him and rubbing one eye, Michael gestured at the bag of Forrest’s things and said, “How are you feeling? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alex replied, shifting the strap on his shoulder. Then, jaw working his face into a grimace, he added, “And that’s weird, right? I shouldn’t be fine? We dated for months—I should feel something.”

For weeks after his breakup with Maria, Michael had lurked on the edges of himself, head tucked between his shoulders, hands in his pockets. And now Alex turned his back with one last box on a to-do list, a final chore of separation. What did that make him?

“Hey,” Michael said, beckoning Alex forward and sliding his hands to cup his hips when he came. “Look, I don’t have a lot of experience in this area either, but enough with the should, okay? The only feelings you gotta feel are your own. You deal with breaking up however you need to, and so will Forrest.”

Alex took a measured breath, counting in, counting out. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Michael said, kissing him softly right on his sternum, above his anxious heart. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Alex left a parting kiss on Michael’s forehead and left him to get dressed and get to work. Making the drive to the Long farm for a second time in as many days was even more alien than the first; had he ever gone to Forrest’s so frequently as now, at the end?

The only feelings you gotta feel are your own, Michael said, with the wisdom of many years of terrible feeling, so as he drove, Alex did just that. One of the last sweet moments of their relationship was in a car just like this, playlist on the speakers half indie, half punk, both of them singing along to Pretty. Odd., where the two intersected, an album neither of them liked all that much in isolation but belted out together. For the rest of their lives, whenever those songs came on, for a moment they’d be back in a car together; wherever Forrest went next, in little three-minute bursts his phone would carry a dark desert road with Alex beside him.

For the rest of the drive, Alex turned on his music and let it play.

When he got to the farm and called Forrest, he came out of the house harried. “Why did I think you were bringing this stuff tomorrow?” he asked, a scowl on his face.

“I’m not sure; I had the day off and I thought—”

“Whatever. Thanks.”

A snappish retort leapt easily to Alex’s mind, but he held back. Forrest had reason enough to be mad, and if this was how he felt his feelings, they were broken up now—Alex abdicated soothing and fixing, and he’d take Forrest’s anger on the chin.

Forrest’s eyes darted toward Wyatt’s truck parked on the dirt drive beside Alex and said, “You should get out of here. Have a good life, Alex. I mean that.”

And just like that, Alex’s mind flipped and he couldn’t help himself. “If Wyatt is—”

“No, no, he’s mostly harmless. To me, anyway. But him seeing you here would be more trouble than it’s worth, so.” Forrest shouldered the bag of his things and half-turned away. “Bye.”

Alex didn’t move until Forrest disappeared back inside, gripping the steering wheel too tight until his fingers went cold and stiff. Fuck, maybe he should have waited to return this stuff, or just ditched it; all the closure from their last conversation soured on the tongue. But it was over now. Alex threw the car in reverse.

Then he threw it back into park a few yards down the lane, just out of sight of the main house. Wyatt was always more trouble than he was worth, but something was wrong in Forrest’s tone, and Alex would find out what. He had time, at least an hour, to sweep Wyatt’s most likely haunts, from the horse barn to his rigged-up shooting range.

Head on a swivel, Alex moved methodically, hot and dusty within minutes. The barn bustled with activity, so Alex gave it a wide berth, abandoning it as an option with no sign of Wyatt’s dulcet tones cutting through the air.

His mental map of the farm was imperfect at best, so Alex headed to the shooting range by way of the old barn, despite the distance out of his way, an acceptable risk when compared to the prospect of getting lost.

There was no time to linger, but the sight of the old building and fallen tree struck Alex with twin nostalgia and grief. Tripp’s dog tags hung body-hot beneath his shirt, and he let them, closing his eyes and focusing on that feeling, the chain around his neck, the weight of decades of inaction. He drifted closer to the barn, like returning Tripp’s tags to this place had some sort of meaning, whether blessing or blasphemy, Alex wasn’t sure.

He was still too far away to smell the rain burnt into the wood. Would it have smelled the same in Tripp’s time, rich and loving?

Alex hoped not.

Just as he turned to leave on that sour thought, a familiar voice drifted from inside the barn, freezing Alex in his tracks.

“I’m asking you again—are you—or not?”

What was Max doing here?

Alex crept closer. The response was clearer and came from Wyatt, loud and protesting.

“How are you even asking that right now? I’ve been doing all the shit you tell me for months, you gotta give me some quid pro quo—”

The last three words were a mocking drawl.

The response came, “Everything I’ve told you will come to pass, Mr. Long. Now’s not the time for doubters.”

That wasn’t Max. Alex’s heart pounded in his throat.

“Tsch. Whatever.”

“You’ve come far, Mr. Long. And, as always, I appreciate your talent for gathering information. Your eyes within the town are indispensable.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And you will be duly rewarded: doubly so for patience. Time is of the essence; I have to move while Manes is away—”

The sound of his name flashed hot and sharp through Alex’s frozen body, every nerve coming to life and screaming one thing: home.

#malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic #malex

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moonyswriting · 3 years

Text

Heart and Soul

@wonder-womans-ex @peggyrose19

chapter 2 of your birthday gift. there might be a few. if you dont want to be tagged next time, for whatever reason, just tell me. :)

Characters by @lumosinlove

Thank you to @moonofthenight for beta-reading

Chapter 2

“Babe, you coming?” one of the Saints poked his head through the door, waiting for a reply.

Babe. Well, that would make his job easier. If the other boy already found someone to date, he could just leave them both alone and move on. Sometimes soulmate tattoos were wrong anyway. But he wasn’t leaving. There was no way he could further embarrass himself, so why not stay. It wasn’t useful to him in any way, but somehow, he didn’t want to go just yet. Damn his curiosity. Luke matched the intruder's face, looking at the boy in the middle of the room, currently stuffing a sweatshirt into his bag.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled. It looked strange in comparison to the emotionless face he had seen on the ice and the teasing one here; it was a genuinely happy one. Luke almost felt uneasy, since it was something so different; he decided he didn’t like it.

The blond turned to his teammate as soon as he had everything cleared from the benches.

“Be right there, Bee, a Lion’s trying to-,” he looked back at Luke exasperatedly - Is it that much of a burden to look at me?! - “What exactly did you want from me, Cub?”

There couldn’t have been a pinch less enthusiasm in his voice if he tried. Well, Luke wasn’t really bursting from joy either.

He should get on with it then, there was nothing else holding him here.

“I- Um.. “

Oh, this was fantastic, apparently he could embarrass himself more. It was just that damn challenging look in the other boy’s eyes that made Luke actually feel intimidated and he didn’t like it. Clearing his throat, he simply said, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

The blond actually had the audacity to smirk at him. He fucking smirked.

“He’s a fan, this could take a while.”

He leaned back and told his teammate, who as a consequence was about to walk out the door again, “I’ll text you.”

He closed it behind him, leaving the other two in complete silence for a second.

“I’m not a fan of yours!”

Luke cringed at the abruptness of his statement. That came out too whiny for his liking, he somehow felt like he should practice to insult people. This boy just brought out the worst in him for no reason. But now, he couldn’t just leave it at that.

“Frankly, I don’t know why anyone is.”

A spark lit in the eyes in front of him. This bastard wasn’t even phased by the insult, he treated it like a game.

“You came here to tell me that? Cool. Thank you. If you want to ask something, do so now, because I, unlike you, who has nothing else to do other than scrub the dirt off of Tweedle Hot’s shoes, actually have important things to do today.”

And that caught Luke off guard. Not because of the other trying to insult his life, but that the Saint had just called one of his teammates hot. He wondered which one. He kind of wanted to just ask, but he didn’t think that would end well.

He collected his thoughts. He came here for the sole reason to find out if this Saint was his soulmate. There was no short way to find out if the golden haired boy's tattoo meant him, but there was another way to find out if they were a soul match.

So, instead, he asked something else, something that he had been wondering ever since he’d seen those dark lines on his wrist. What better time to ask than now.

“What’s your name?”

A couple of different emotions crept over the boy's face, I changed from slightly taken aback as if he had been expecting a totally different question to almost smug before it landed on the teasing one he had before.

"You came all the way from you lockerroom, crashing into this one, while my team is still in here, to ask me that?"

Luke felt a bit self conscious and he didn't even understand why. He took a breath.

"Yes, yes, I did."

It was a valid question, if you didn't know someone's name, you could ask them. It didnt need to be linked to his soulmark. People could ask other people what their name was, that was a normal thing to do. It wasn't like he was supposed to know the other boy's name. They weren't friends.

"You know, I'm actually a bit disappointed. I really thought they taught you some manners here in Gryffindor."

Luke rolled his eyes. Who did this person think he was? The brunette did not have enough time to come up with a comeback though, not before the other boy spoke again.

"See, we've played against each other over 6 games. We've had a face off against each other at least 3 times and yet, you still don't know my name. Honestly, I'm disappointed in you."

Luke didn't show that he actually did feel bad. He remembered most other names in the league especially after their rookie years, but somehow this one he couldn't think of, no matter how hard he tried. Instead he shot back a "Guess you just weren't memorable."

"Ouch," the blond acted offended, even holding a hand to his chest.

"I'll try my best to change that then."

Luke couldn't believe it. This mediocre acting performance actually made him feel a bit bad. He watched the blond pull out his phone while walking over to the door. Shit.

"Hey," the blond turned again, very slowly. Cool, he's staying for another second, what now, idiot. Why do you want to talk to him anyway, you don't like the Saints. He shook out of his thoughts and came back to his original question, still left unanswered.

"I have to call you something. You know, when I joke about your team and how we beat you." You certainly sound like you're sorry.

"Well, if you're that desperate to insult me with a name," he put his phone back into his pocket and looked up at Luke, thinking for a moment before continuing, "I'd better give Luke Deveaux a name then. Since he is quite the star and if someone as high up as him asks for your name, you better give him one."

Well, it seemed like the other knew his name. When he saw the surprise on Luke's face, he explained, “'Course I know your name, because unlike me, apparently, you have made quite the impression."

Luke didn't really know what to say to that, but then he seemed to notice that none of this had answered his question and he just needed to know, so he could go back to his locker room. "Can you just give me a name?"

His words sounded a lot more annoyed than he felt. He felt quite the opposite, this was somehow… exciting.

"Persistent. I like it."

The blond had walked over to the door, one foot holding it open, body half way out while his eyes were again firmly on Luke's.

"Call me Saint."

And with that, Luke was left in the empty locker room, in no way smarter than before.

#1.2k words #<2k words #audrey's birthday #aj's birthday #birthday #heart and soul #chaptered fic #luke deveaux #st tweedle #lumosinlove #relic keel #chapter 2 #soulmate au #enemies to lovers #saint #angst #written by meee #thirty first fic

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wonhaebunny · 4 years

Text

small(ish) bkg-centric drabble vaguely inspired by sif’s fic and featuring one of my discarded ocs from blackugou!! open below to keep reading some bamf bkg!

before i get started on the drabble let met give y’all some context about the oc, as his quirk plays a pretty important role in the drabble!! his name is hioki, and he’s in class 1-b. his quirk allows him to project the memories of a person he’s touching into the mind of another person he’s touching. so if he’s holding two people’s hands, he can project memories of the first person into the second person’s head. the sharing of memories involves of not only visuals, but also what the person was feeling at the time; touch, noise, smell, emotions. they project the memory as if the viewer is experiencing it themselves.

hioki does not have to view the memories he’s projecting to other people. he can view them too if he wants, but he can also just project them from one person’s mind into the other’s without having to experience any of it himself.

okay so that’s my oc, let’s get into it!!

tws for vomit, and what could (??) be construed as a panic attack? i’ll tag it just in case. this revolves around kamino, but there’s not too much detail about it. this drabble is… kind of not monoma friendly. people had some pretty strong emotions about it in the server. but he’s not a completely shitty person, and i personally did not write him to be a terrible character; he’s just annoying :’) katsuki is pretty ooc here too, but it’s based off another hc i have (that i’ll be posting sometime soon hsfsdf)

it’s lunchtime, and all the students are piled into the cafeteria. once again, there’s a small crowd forming in the center of the big hall, where monoma has once again decided to start taunting 1-a, mainly bakugou. the onlookers are a mix between annoyed at the disturbance and vaguely amused by monoma’s shenanigans. hioki stands at the side, watching with vague irritation. this is somewhat of a daily occurrence, though, so he doesn’t bother interfering. after all, if there’s one thing bakugou is known to hate, it’s people trying to help him.

it takes all of five minutes before monoma makes his first obligatory kamino comment. katsuki stiffens, the way he always does, but to his credit does nothing more than glare at his katsudon venomously. they all wait for monoma to finish, but the guy is laying it on thick today. normally it’s just one or two jabs about bakugou’s being pathetic, or weak, or the cause of all might’s end. whatever, there’s always something. but today he’s brutal, getting personal and downright cruel with his comments. he seems to focus in on the topic of kamino today, seeming to sense bakugou’s bad mood and increasingly furious eyes.

as it goes on, bakugou grows tenser, eyes darkening with something a little unfamiliar that sets the surrounding students on edge. kirishima and the others are already trying to shove monoma away, some of them patting at bakugou’s shoulders in useless attempts to soothe him. bakugou is too busy staring monoma down to even bat their hands away, which speaks volumes of his anger.

he stares for a long time, watches as monoma rambles on carelessly. it’s a little unnerving, because by now he’d be yelling. fuck, if it was anyone else, they’d probably be crying by now with how mean monoma is being. but bakugou, uncharacteristically, just stares.

then, so smoothly most of the surrounding students miss it, katsuki’s gaze snaps to hioki’s. said student flinches back at the intensity of the stare, and bakugou just looks at him like he’s dissecting him mentally. then, he opens his mouth. “hioki, right?” he says, words quiet but still managing to cut through monoma’s impassioned rantings like a hot knife through butter.

monoma falters.

katsuki’s lips slowly, ever so subtly, twist up into a predatory smirk that has hioki recoiling instantly.

“u-um.” hioki says.

katsuki sits up in his seat slightly, abandoning the food he’d been prodding at.

“you’ve got an interesting quirk… hioki-kun."

hioki swallows.

monoma, who stands forgotten at the side, looks baffled and somewhat disconcerted at the smile that’s slowly stretching across katsuki’s face. the entire cafeteria has hushed down by now at this new development.

normally, monoma’s interactions with bakugou are easy. annoying at worst, entertaining at best. typically a mixture of the two. monoma pokes, bakugou snarls, the cycle keeps going.

this, however.

this is new.

"say, hioki-kun. would you lend us your quirk for a moment?” bakugou asks. his voice is quiet, musing, and absolutely terrifying in its gentleness. hioki opens his mouth, before closing it again.

bakugou katsuki knows his name, and his quirk, too? they’ve never talked a day in their lives. as far as hioki’s concerned, bakugou’s never even looked in his direction. the guy can’t even remember his own friends’ names on a good day. and yet here he is, looking at hioki with a placid smile, asking for his quirk.

“i-um. what?” hioki says. his voice cracks rather embarrassingly. no one laughs. (they don’t blame him for his fear.)

even bakugou’s own friends have backed off at this point, watching the trio in muted apprehension. the blonde just chuckles softly.

“no, it’s just. monoma seemed so very adamant that he could fare better than me in the real world.” he stresses the word out with an exaggerated pout, turning sharp eyes to monoma, who shrinks back slightly. “and hioki-kun’s quirk seems… very convenient. that is, if you’re willing to put your money where your mouth is?”

monoma seems to consider this for a moment, looking completely out of his depths in this new situation. he knows how to deal with an irritable bakugou, a grumpy one, a furious one. but a calm one? he’s lost.

nonetheless, the clear challenge in bakugou’s tone has him puffing his chest out in indignance. “what, like it’d be hard?” he jeers, stepping forward. “come on, hioki, let’s get this over with!"

he holds his hand out roughly in the other’s direction, narrowed eyes glued to katsuki’s serenely twinkling ones.

"i-i really don’t think-” hioki stutters, looking between the two of them desperately as if waiting for one of them to announce that this is all a big joke.

neither of them do.

“would you, hioki-kun?” bakugou asks kindly, extending a hand to the other, palm upturned in waiting. “you don’t have to, of course. but it would be… ah. entertaining, for lack of a better word.”

monoma seems to grow even more irate at the indirect jab. hioki helplessly steps up to place each of his hands in one of the others’ waiting ones.

“monoma.” bakugou says, eyes going cold and smile fading slightly. “i’m giving you a last chance to back out. don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have.” his words are serious this time, devoid of any of the light humour that had been lacing them the previous few minutes.

monoma, ever the stubborn mule, just scoffs. "calm down, you delinquent. acting so superior, as if we haven’t faced hardships like you.“

bakugou tilts his head slightly, examining the other.

then, he shrugs.

"okay. hioki-kun, if you would?”

hioki nods hastily, hands already sweating in their grasps. the entire cafeteria watches, rapt, as his eyes close and his hands start to glow a faint, silvery blue.

“oh, and hioki-kun? i think it’d be best if you didn’t witness these ones.” bakugou murmurs, eyes already slipping shut. hioki, palms already clammy and trembling slightly, doesn’t question how the blonde seems to know his quirk in such explicit detail. instead, he just nods again.

“okay.” he whispers. the blue turns stronger, until their connected hands glow a bright white, veins visible behind illuminated skin. the room goes pin-drop silent. they watch as bakugou sits, eyes shut and expression serene. monoma is frowning, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a petulant scowl.

they watch as the white grows brighter, and brighter still.

they watch as monoma’s scowl drops, free hand clenching against his side.

as his expression flickers, twisting into something unreadable and ugly.

then, unmistakably, his breath hitches.

his mouth opens slightly, sucking in a ragged, shallow breath. poor hioki’s hand is turning red under his quickly tightening grip as monoma’s entire body seems to curl forward slightly.

the entire time, bakugou sits. expression unchanging, small, bitter smile still lingering on his face.

monoma’s breathing picks up further, closed eyes scrunching and expression twisting further into sheer terror. his free hand is clenched so tightly in his pant leg that his fingers are turning white.

bakugou’s eyes slip open finally. he watches monoma’s trembling form with detached coolness, eyes gleaming with a silvery sheen that signals the workings of hioki’s quirk. “i think that’s enough, hioki-kun.” he says finally, voice impossibly soft. “thank you.”

the glow of their hands fades away, but monoma doesn’t stop trembling. his breaths are coming in reedy gasps at this point, lips curled back to bare his teeth in a picture of sheer terror as he curls into himself.

bakugou just watches, eyes still glinting with slowly-fading flecks of white. slowly, he lifts his hand from hioki’s and picks up the milk carton at his table. he sips from it idly, leaning back to watch monoma’s still-heaving form with an unreadable expression.

it seems that lunch rush had at some point and reported the disturbance to the teachers, because it’s at this point that a teacher finally storms in.

vlad king pushes to the center of the throng. "what is going on here?“ he demands, before his eyes fall on monoma’s shaking figure.

"what happened to him?"

he turns around, scanning the crowd before his eyes land on katsuki, who’s still watching monoma boredly as he sips at his milk.

"what happened?” he demands again. “someone answer me. monoma, what’s wrong?” he turns to his student, whose rasping breaths are growing louder progressively, and touches his shoulder. at the contact, monoma’s entire body jolts away, eyes finally snapping open with wild panic.

then, the entire student body and vlad king watch with bated breath as monoma jerks away, turns around, and throws up over his own shoes.

vlad king curses loudly, turning back to katsuki. the blonde just blinks at him placidly, and the teacher growls, before his eyes fall on a wide-eyed hioki who still stands in the centre of the circle. “hioki. explain.” he says sharply. hioki sucks in a fearful breath.

“um. monoma was. he was teasing bakugou-kun. and then bakugou-kun asked me to, uh. use my quirk. on the two of them. i don’t know what exactly he showed monoma, though.”

he wrings his fingers anxiously, as they turn their attention back to a retching monoma. vlad king turns to stare at bakugou sharply.

“you.” he says furiously. “principal’s office. now. i hope your little game was worth it.”

the blonde seems wholly unbothered.

“it very much was, thank you sensei.” he responds, smiling cheerfully as he pushes from his seat and brushes past vlad king out the cafeteria, still holding his milk carton.

#i didn't want to add the ending here?#bc it's already so long #and it devolved int a mixture of crack and monoma redemption?#but very badly done #and when i say badly done i mean worse than this shit ^^#anyways :|#bunny's drabbles

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