#and after I finished the fic I even double checked that I hadn’t just missed more detailed warnings in the notes

[hopelesshawks]

Nothing like reading a fic on ao3 and suddenly getting heavy sadomasochist and impact play in almost all of the smut scenes even though the smut tags were only “dom/sub”, “soft dom [insert character]”, and “sub [insert character]” to make me appreciate how well tagged/warned shit on tumblr is

[hauntingcryptids]

Belle Of The Ball

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary - The Master plans on scheming and schmoozing at a masquerade ball he was “invited to”, but he doesn’t plan on you catching the eyes of the fellow guests.

Based On This Request -

Anonymous requested - “The first time Reader goes to a masquerade ball and wears a breathtaking dress with Dhawan!Master, and the first time The Master gets jealous of the Reader. (Hello if you’re not too busy you could write this request, thanks and take care)”

Warnings - Me making up aliens/planets, mentions of canon typical violence

Word Count - 2103

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. Requested by a lovely anon on my old Tumblr account. The reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but they are described as being okay with wearing a dress. Also, I think this could be read as either a pre-relationship fic or a pre-established relationship fic, so enjoy however you wish.

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You strode out of your room in an excited manner, while dressed in the beautiful outfit that The Master chose for you to wear to the masquerade ball he was “invited to”. You say “invited to” loosely. The Master had hypnotised his way into getting invited by the monarch of one of the most powerful planets in the galaxy he was trying to take over, and he made sure to include a necessary plus one on his invitation. The Master hadn’t been able to take you to any majestically royal locations since the two of you began travelling together, so The Master was incredibly excited about getting to take you to this masquerade ball. However, he also had work to do. So, unfortunately, The Master couldn’t just spend all of his time dancing with you.

You walked into the console room of The Master’s TARDIS with your expensive-looking shoes in your hand. You sat yourself down on a nearby sofa and stared, amazed, at The Master dressed in his equally extravagant outfit while he piloted his beloved ship to the desired destination. It was similar in colour and design to your own dress, making The Master’s intent plainly obvious. You were already aware of The Master’s possessive nature, but the thought of The Master purposefully matching your outfits with each other so everyone who saw the two of you knew that the both of you were together made you laugh. To you, this act was cute, not a silent threat by The Master. Though, killing his ego my calling The Master’s behaviour cute wasn’t on the cards for the day. You knew that this gathering was important for your alien host and his plans.

“You clean up nice. You actually look quite handsome minus the blood, engine grease and soot.” You finished tieing up your fancy shoes and sent a sarcastic wink to The Master. He only rolled his eyes in response. If anyone else said something like that to him, with that attitude, he would have killed them, but you were the beautiful exception.

“I’m going to take what you said as a compliment. However, I think I look quite sexy covered in all of those things. Especially the blood.”

“That remains to be seen. You never let me see you right after you destroyed a planet, remember? The only blood I see you covered in is the blood you missed washing away in the shower.” The Master stopped double and triple checking his plans and looked you up and down. You looked absolutely stunning in the dress he had picked for you; The Master wished that you would wear more clothes that he had picked out for you. However, The Master was growing much more interested in seeing you in nothing whatsoever. Or even seeing you in more intimate clothing he picked out for you. 

“Well, if you promise to not argue about how many innocent people I just killed, then maybe we could have a very interesting night in the future. Maybe even tonight?” The Master smirked at you, but you ignored him.

“Not tonight. You said that you actually have to make these people like you, remember? For your ingenious plan to take over this galaxy’s gem mining and trading industries?” The Master sighed defeatedly. Sometimes he wished to not have to go through with some of his plans, not out of a sudden spark of moral righteousness, but more out of a hatred for social gatherings and nosy people.

“Oh right. That. Don’t get me wrong, I love treating you to the most beautiful of treasures found in this universe, love, but I hate talking to people.” 

The Master bowed his head in stress. Through this plan of his, The Master planned on collecting many precious gems to both save and sell. Then he could take you to beautiful places and get you expensive things without having to steal or manipulate all the time. You also, through the many weeks of The Master planning this outing, had convinced The Master to eventually free the overworked “workers” of the mines once he took over and destroyed them. All of these plans were directly reliant upon The Master successfully integrating himself within the royal court of the Azuuill galaxy. If he wasn’t able to do that, then all of this was a waste.

You bounded up to where The Master was leaning against The TARDIS console. You rubbed his back soothingly and placed your chin on his shoulder.

“But you love manipulating people, and hypnotising them, so just remind yourself that you get to do that while having to suffer through all the schmoozing.”

“I do love those things. You know me so well, my little Human.” The Master peered over at you sentimentally. His eyes flickered down to your lips, but you, unfortunately, didn’t notice.

“Care to escort your date to the court of Azuuill, Master?” You separated yourself from The Master and smiled warmly as you held your hand out for him to take.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else, love.” The Master jovially took your hand, and kissed the back of it softly, before leading you out into the alien palace.

The palace and the ballroom were amazing. The whole building was constructed in expensive-looking marble. But a very alien marble; dark navy with rivers of electric blue spiralling through the stone. There were also large pillars everywhere. And there were solid gold vines and leaves snaking around every surface. It looked like something out of a fairy world or a fantasy novel and you were in awe of its beauty.

The Master lead you through seas of people and gestured around wildly gloating about all of the people and their status in the Universe. When you weren’t distracted by the decor of the palace, you saw the eyes of the guests glare at The Master. Though, a glimmer of something unknown would flash across their faces whenever they would catch a glimpse of you. You had no idea what to make of either of their reactions, so you never brought it up to The Master.

The Master, after showing you the entire space of the ballroom, eventually went off to talk to someone important while you relaxed by an open window. Your intent was to catch a short breath because there were tons of people crammed into the dance hall. However, a group of people rushed to talk to you as soon as you were alone. You did talk to the group as a whole for a bit until one of the people asked to dance with you. You agreed, again trying to appear friendly and exuberant for The Master’s sake and for the sake of his plans. 

Once the song ended, you tried to return to your spot by the window in order to wait for The Master, but another person asked to dance with you. With each new song that played throughout the ballroom, a new person would ask to dance with you. You agreed every time, excited about the opportunity to meet various types of alien species and hopefully, the experiences would encourage a business deal with The Master. Eventually, though, you were able to return to the window for a breather. The Master then huffed his way over to you from where he was sulking in a dark corner.

“Why are you so upset?” You asked as he slumped against you.

“Upset! I’m not upset, I’m completely embarrassed. No one is paying attention to me! Their eyes are all on you and I am getting no work done”

“Well, I’m having fun. Why don’t we dance, Master? It might lighten your mood.”

“How about we get some food and drinks first? My anger has made me a bit light-headed.” The Master tapped his forehead four times in a row. You assumed that he did this subconsciously, but you thought that The Master’s Drums were making themselves more annoying by the moment. You went along with The Master’s preference; you loved trying new alien foods and drinks. The Master nodded to you sadly before walking off to get you both some food and you waited patiently for his return by staring out at the interesting landscape of the planet.

You had thought that The Master had returned when you saw someone approach you out of the corner of your eye, but the stranger who stopped before you and stared at you with unblinking eyes was not The Master. They were a tall, extremely thin person with greasy-looking black hair tied in the back to form a low ponytail.

“You are Y/n, aren’t you?” Their voice was slick and dark like ink and, frankly, made you uncomfortable to have to listen to. But you chose to remain polite. You had no idea who the person before you was or if The Master had connections with them and therefore needed to be appeased.

“Yes. May I ask why?”

“I have heard so much about you because of my guests and The Master. You truly are a wonder!” The person smirked at you with a toothy smile. You then recognised who this person was! They were the ruler of this planet and owner of this castle who The Master was talking to earlier in the night.

“Oh! You must be Monarch Alecx Belgoze, the host of this party.”

“Yes, I am.” The monarch looked incredibly smug upon seeing you recognize him, but it might have just been a momentary burst of ego.

“This party is absolutely brilliant. I have never been to a party this extravagant before.” You stated this because it was true. But the monarch to your eagerness as an opportunity to step closer to you, much closer than you expected or were comfortable with. 

“If I were your partner, I would throw a party much grander than this every night in your honour.” You could smell the blackberry wine on their breath. You had no idea how to react to the first part of the monarch’s comment. It was nice to hear such a thing, but you had no interest in the person before you, except to help The Master with his plan. And their forwardness was beginning to worry you. You looked around to the food table in the hope that The Master was there, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh, that’s not - Master! Thank you so much for the food.” The Master finally returned to you with the snacks and drinks. But he didn’t come from the direction of the food table. You assumed that he was stalking around the monarch before making a move to save you. The Master looked incredibly upset, but you decided to not question him in front of a stranger. You did that once before and The Master sulked in his room for days after the fact.

“Monarch Belgoze, I thought that you would be dancing.” The Master questioned while placing the alien food and drink on the window sill. You could hear the strain in his voice, he was more upset than initially thought, but you decided to pay more attention to the food you desperately wanted to eat and let The Master deal with the alien encounters.

“Well, I was, but I saw a better dance partner off the dance floor.” The monarch dripped out a response.

“You must be referring to your betrothed? Correct?” The Master retorted snarkily.

“No, they weren’t able to make it tonight, I’m afraid. Anyway! Y/n, are you having a good night?” The alien monarch dramatically cut off The Master and turned his attention back to you, again stepping closer. 

“Yes, I am.” You ventured a warry look at The Master, who looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel.

“May I say that you look absolutely stunning!” The monarch reached a ringed hand out to touch your waist. 

“Oh, thank you! The Master got me this dress actually. He has amazing taste.” You felt incredibly awkward because of the monarch’s actions, but you had no idea what the customs of their planet were. You didn’t want to risk ruining The Master’s plans just because you didn’t understand.

“If you so desired, I would love to take you somewhere … more private…” The monarch leaned incredibly close to your face.

“Okay … Time to go!” The Master grabbed you by the arm and quickly pulled you out of the monarch’s grasp and through the crowd back to The TARDIS.

“But what about the masquerade!” You shouted in a worried tone.

“We can dance later!”

[covenofwives]

Feather Menace

There's a real feather menace running around the DSMP but Foolish has all the evidence he needs to crack this case. And serve out an acceptable punishment.

This fic only exists because of @fluffallamaful :) Everyone say "thank you Llama" after you've finished reading the fic :) And what a treat that it gets properly finished on our friendiversary! :D

Warnings: There's a lot of intense tickling in this fic, especially with feet tickles. I know some people aren't comfortable with that so please read only if you feel comfortable doing so.

Please Enjoy!

---

Foolish wasn’t sure what to call his alliance with Dream. Even the word ‘alliance’ seemed like a stretch. Dream would come with a list of projects he wanted done and Foolish would give a list of blocks and materials he needed to build it. Foolish would build for Dream and Dream would give Foolish…something. The something hadn’t really been worked out yet, but Dream promised a big payout and Foolish didn’t want trouble coming to his Summer Home, so he’d build for Dream and keep note of what payment was owed.

Dream was fast at gathering materials needed. Sometimes, depending on how big the project was, Dream would be back on the same day with everything, so Foolish made a few chests for Dream to dump stuff in to and Foolish would collect it all before starting his builds.

Usually the golden shark wouldn’t bother checking over the materials. Dream had never been wrong before and he pulled out the blocks out without looking over them. But then Foolish noticed it. Dream hadn’t missed any blocks or materials, but he added a random item.

A feather. A singular white feather lay at the bottom of the chest, covered in all the building materials.

At first Foolish didn’t think much of it. He assumed it was a mistake. Dream must have just accidentally put the feather in because it was in his inventory when he was emptying it all out. But then it happened again. And again. Every time Dream came and emptied his inventory, he left one feather in the chest.

Foolish started to collect them. The first feather he kept without thought. He placed out of the way and got on with his building. When the next feather popped up he placed it with the first, just cause it was easy. Now there was over 20 of the things, practically filling up their own chest in Foolish’s Summer Home.

Dream had to have been doing it on purpose. He did just come out from nearly a whole year in prison so maybe he wasn’t in the right state of mind or feathers were used as a code for something but it had to have been on purpose at least.

Partly driven to not look like a fool, the Demi-God refused to ask Dream to elaborate. Instead he made a plan to confirm in his mind if Dream knew he was doing it or not.

During one of the drop off, Foolish managed to catch Dream as he was loading up the chest. They exchanged peasantries and Foolish made sure he was stood beside Dream as he was loading it all in. He watched all the blocks fall into the chest, and then he saw it. The feather fell into the chest so casually and calmly. Dream must have not seen it, already closing the chest and giving a smile to Foolish.

“All done. You don’t have to start the build today. Tomorrow is good.” Dream spoke so calmly, cementing the idea more in Foolish’s head that he just didn’t realise.

What Dream was doing with a feather always in his inventory, that wasn’t for Foolish to ponder, but he was going to at least get confirmation on it.

“Maybe you want to double check over the materials there. Something looks off about them.”

It was a simple enough excuse, and it worked. Dream looked puzzled for a moment but he honoured Foolish’s request. He stepped back to the chest, looking in over the materials again. It was buried under a few of the blocks but the fluffy edges of the feather were sticking out clearly. He surely saw them.

“Hmm… Nope. You’ve got everything you need.” Dream closed the chest, giving a wide smile to Foolish. “Everything looks in order. Do you think you need extra?”

Foolish was unsure how to respond. He was practically stunned, blinking as his words tried to catch up with his mouth. “Uh… No just thought… Thought you put in some extra stuff.”

“Is there another problem?” Dream asked innocently.

“Uh…n-no. No…” Foolish fumbled. In honesty there wasn’t anything wrong with it. What was he supposed to say? ‘Stop leaving feathers behind’ was probably making too big a deal out of it. It wasn’t harming anything. “Guess I just wanted to double check.”

Dream smiled wider than Foolish had ever seen and left.

Well it didn’t really answer any questions but it was acknowledged between them at least. Maybe that was enough to bring it to Dream’s attention. Maybe the feathers would stop.

The feathers did not stop. The feathers actually increased. In the few days that follow Dream left more feathers. Soon he was leaving two at a time, and then three, and then four.

One night Foolish walked by the chests he’d left out for Dream to use and seeing they were full. He just wanted to check what blocks were left and Foolish opened it up. One chest was full of the blocks needed, and the other was full of feathers. If Foolish added in the feathers he already had, the chest would have been filled to the brim.

That had to be a message. Foolish didn’t know what the message was, but it was a message. Dream was messing with him and Foolish needed to retaliate.

Dream hadn’t planned for this feather thing to go as far as it did, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t fun.

In all honesty the first time Dream left the feather behind it was an accident. He had killed a chicken on the way to the Summer Home for food and the feather slipped into his inventory. It then fell into the chest without thinking when Dream was emptying out all the blocks, and when Dream went back to pick it up he saw Foolish looking over the feather. He was inspecting it in his hands, twirling it around slowly between his fingers. Dream was too confused in watching the scene so he never said anything to make his presence known. Instead he watched as Foolish ran the fluffy feather along his palm, and his golden cheeks lit up brighter with his golden blush as his hand tingled and palm closed.

Dream left quickly before he was seen, but the scene stuck in his head and a smile formed along his lips.

So the tall, powerful Demi-God was feather sensitive. Not only that, but he was intrigued. His first response with the feather was to see how soft it was. To see how much it tickled. Dream could privately admit he was feather sensitive himself, but something about Foolish’s reaction was too cute to not push further.

So Dream left a feather every time, and watched Foolish’s confused reaction each time. He expected Foolish to point it out sooner, but thankfully the shark wasn’t so direct so Dream got to continue his fun game. And he started adding more to it. He added in two and then three feathers each time. He was pretty sure the chicken population in the whole SMP knew and were warned about him, but Dream was pretty sure he’d given at least a hundred feathers now.

It was still too fun seeing Foolish’s confused reaction and subtle blush at each of the feathers and if Dream had his way, it wouldn’t be stopping any time soon.

Dream made his way over to the Summer Home now with an inventory full of the blocks Foolish needed, and five feathers in his back pockets. He felt it made it a little too obvious with the chest full of feathers last time, so back to a few feathers it was.

Dream filled up the chest left for him, carefully putting in the feathers. He was sad Foolish didn’t seem to be around, but that was fine. Just as Dream turned to leave, he saw another chest placed a bit further off with a sign on the front.

Curiosity pulled Dream forward, at least to read the signs.

‘For Dream. A little gift for all the hard work you’ve been putting in. From Foolish :D’

Dream was equally surprised and cautious. He didn’t think Foolish was the kind to leave gifts, but then again he didn’t know the Demi-God that well. While keeping in mind the possibility of a trap, Dream cautiously approached the chest and opened it.

He wasn’t sure what to expect in the chest, but Dream didn’t think it would be the chest full of feathers. He was pretty sure it looked fuller, with the feathers nearly overflowing out of the chest now.

Just before Dream could consider the siltation completely, he was suddenly pushed forward. A strong push on his back as something tripped his ankles and Dream fell forward into the chest.

The chest wasn’t big enough to fully fit Dream in it, but when he was falling forward in a panic through the seemingly endless fluffy feathers, the chest felt bottomless. He managed to catch his hand on on the edge of the chest, and attempted to turn. His legs kicked and tried to gain footing. He tried turning himself around, but it difficult to manoeuvre himself when he was buried in feathers, and all of them brushed along his face and tucking into his hoodie.

Dream pursed his lips to hold in his giggle. The feathers were starting to tickle but with freedom so close Dream forced himself to push out the electric tingling and power through. He grasped onto the edge of chest, and pulled himself back up, only to be knocked back down as the lid of the chest shut on his back.

“Ack!” Dream fumbled back into the chest. It didn’t hurt but the slam on his back was sudden and caught him by surprise. He flailed now, which was not helping the tickling along his neck and face, and turned himself over the in the chest. He pushed through the white fluffy feathers, clearing them off their face and looking up to see the golden shark himself, grinning wildly.

“F-Fohoolish?!”

“You like my gift!” Foolish beamed and brought one of his hands up. He held a singular feather and you’d think being buried in feathers wouldn’t make it so scary, but something about it and the wide grin on Foolish’s face was setting off Dream’s flight or fight instinct.

“Whahat is thihis?”

“Evidence collecting.” Foolish waved the feather in his fingers. “We’ve got a feather menace around this server. I’ve just been gathering up all the pieces to solve this case.”

“And wh-why am ihi in h-hehere?” Dream tried to push up against the lid of the chest and was met with resistance. He expected as much but it was worth a shot.

“Well I have to show off the evidence somehow.” Foolish answered like it was the most obvious thing.

“S-Soho why aham I in the chehest?” Dream couldn’t help giggling at Foolish’s silly mood. His smile was infectious. Innocent but mischievous, but then again it was hard to tell when Foolish was just being goofy and silly or actually planning something.

“Well you can certainly see the evidence can’t you?”

The lid of the chest pressed down just a bit, starting to really trap Dream’s legs. Foolish had pulled his hands away though so something had to have been placed on it, keeping him there. Dream didn’t really feel trapped until he felt Foolish grab around his ankle, then he jolted himself up. He couldn’t push the chest open but at least he could still see Foolish though the gap.

“Wh-Wha-hahat ahare you d-doing?”

“I mean I have all these feathers, gotta use them for something.” Foolish half shrugged. With one hand still holding Dream’s ankle, the other got to work slowly untying the laces from Dream’s boots.

“WAHAHAIHIT!” Dream tried to push himself up, but it was awkward with limited space and the lid still not budging. The feathers crawling in his hoodie only heightened his nervousness too. “L-Lihisten! Ohokay! It was mehehe! Ihihi gahave you th-the feheathers ahas a johoke!”

“Oh I know that.” Foolish nodded. “That was easy to find out. But I had to take a moment to figure out the why. And it seemed pretty obvious.” Foolish had carried on unlacing Dream’s boots even as he spoke. Now with them fully undone the boot easily slipped off. “You want me to use the feathers on you.”

Dream knew he was in danger when his boot was being undone, but having it confirmed suddenly made the feathers brushing along his cheek shudder and tickle more. Almost like they were giggling at him.

“N-Noho! Nooo! Th-Thahat is juhust n-nohot truhue!”

“Well why else would you give me all these wonderful feathers to use?” Foolish grinned. “It took me a while to get your message but I hear you loud and clear.”

“Yohou dohoho NOHOT!” Dream tried kicking out his other leg, only to get it caught with Foolish hooking his arm around it. “WAHAIHIT! J-Juhust th-thihihink ahabout thihis!”

Apparently Foolish didn’t need to think about it anymore. The fluffy ends of the feather brushed against Dream’s foot. It didn’t even make a full swipe along his foot before Dream jumped. He hit the top of the chest with a mix between a whine and barking laugh. It didn’t tickle that much. Foolish made the touch so light he could barely feel it, but he wiggled and jumped and the feathers in his hoodie did all the work for Foolish.

“Fohohohoohossssh!”

The golden shark rolled the feather between his fingers, fluttering it up and down Dream’s sole. It barely touched his skin and somehow that was worse than it fully pressed against him. “FOhohOHOHOLihiIHISH! Stahahap! D-DohoHOhoHOHOn’t-!” He banged his fist on the top of the chest. There was an annoying feather lodged into his armpit, wiggling just the right way to make him squeal with laughter. “FOHOHOHOSH! Stahahap t-tihIHIHICKLING MEHEHehehe lihihike thahahahat!”

“Oh, like this?” Foolish twisted the feather again, grinning at Dream’s laughter. “Sorry, I don’t know how you like being tickled here. Maybe like this.”

Foolish flipped  the feather so the fluffy point of it dragged up and down Dream’s foot, flicking over the heel and swiping over his toes.

“OHOHOHO f-fuHUHUhuCK!” Dream arched his back, beating his hands into the chest’s walls. “FoHOHOhohoHolihihish!”

“Sorry, is this not good either, what about this one?”

Foolish ran the feather back and forth over Dream’s foot, starting at his toes and working his way down. The feather swiped over Dream’s arch, exactly where Dream did not want it to go.

The jump Dream did he swear lifted the chest up off the ground. His words came out in jumbled pleas, between his gasping breaths and harsh laughter.

“W-WahahaHAHahAHIT! WAHAHAHAIHIHIT!”

Foolish did stop, but even when Dream got a singular moment free from the tickling along his foot, the feathers inside the chest burrowed under his clothes, flicking and swiping along his armpits and tummy.

“Ohoho mihiy gohod!” Foolish squeaked with delight. “Yohou wehent insahane!” He nearly doubled over in laughter, struggling to breath between his squeaky giggles.

“P-Pleheahase! Fohoholihish! Juhust-Juhust ohopen the chehehest!” Dream quickly realised the more he moved, the more he shook the feathers. He tired to still himself but it was hard when all his wiggling before placed some of the feathers in the worst spots and they were determined to remind Dream of their position.

“But I can’t use all the feathers without the chest!” Foolish explained, his expression crestfallen as though he hadn’t just made the cruellest torture device known to man. “I don’t have extra arms like XD. Maybe I should have asked him for help with this, huh?”

Dream could feel his face turn red. He’d die of embarrassment if XD caught him like this. Somehow he didn’t want this to be their first meeting out of prison.

“I will need to do something about your feet though. I have to make sure I can get both of them.”

“B-BOHOTH?! Wahait wahaihit! WAHAIT!”

Foolish didn’t hear him, deliberately tuning him out as he started unlacing Dream’s second boot. The blonde runner tried to jump up again, but even the littlest of movements set the feathers off. Wiggling and fluttering inside his clothes. One fluttered down his chest to his stomach. It wiggled too close to the edge of his bellybutton and Dream arched his back with a barking laugh. That proved worse as the feather just tucked further into his bellybutton, and it left him completely unaware to his other boot being taken off, and now both his feet were tied together by the ankle.

Dream tried pulling against the ropes, but they gave no slack. His feet were completely stuck, only allowing for slight wiggling and maybe shuffling one of his feet to try and protect the other.

“Oh this is perfect! Now your arches are lined up perfectly for the feather!” Foolish giggled. Dream was no longer sure if Foolish was putting on this overly excited act, or if he genuinely thought he was helping Dream.

“P-Pleheahase! F-Fohohosh, juhust lehehet mehehe gohoho…”

“Hmm…nope!” Foolish shook his head. “If you want me to use the full feather experience then I gotta get both feet lined up.”

“I dohon’t wahant that!” Dream managed to find a perfect position not to disturb the feathers so much. There was still that one positioned far too perfectly by his belly button but Dream couldn’t move it or the one in his armpits would flutter and then he’d set off again.

“You have to! Why else would you give me all these wonderful feathers to use.”

“Ihit wahas j-just a johoke! Okahay?”

“Oh no-one goes this far for a joke! You must have wanted this a least a little bit, hmm?” Foolish’s voice went high pitched on his hum.

Dream whined in frustration, which turned into a yelp when Foolish raised the feather again. “W-Wahait! Juhust wahait!”

“Time for your ticklesssss.” The golden shark cackled, and brought the feather to Dream’s trapped foot.

He was merciful, at least, and he didn’t go right for the arches. Instead he did as he had before, flicking the feather back and forth over his foot while he went up and down. The tickling was bad enough, but Dream’s nerves came alive when the feather brushed along his arch. When it reached the end of his foot, Foolish ran it down the other foot in the same pattern.

Dream’s plan of keeping still was out the window when the tickling started. He tried his best, but his instincts kicked in and he was wriggling and struggling in the chest again. The feather at his bellybutton wiggled right in. The one in his armpit had fallen, but now it was making a slow fall down his ribs, brushing past each bone. Whenever Dream tried to remove a feather, another took it’s place, or fluttered against his face, or the feather dancing across his heels would send another shock wave through him and short circuit his brain.

Dream tried to plead, but every word was lost in his laughter, and Foolish only response was a  high pitched taunt and coo over how much Dream was loving his feathers.

The feather made a path over both of Dream’s arches and the blonde lost it. He jumped again, battering his fists against the chest and trying in vain to pull his legs back.

“FOHOHOHOLIHIHISH! PLEHEHEHEAHAHAHASE! IHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T!!!”

“Awww you’re just LOVING your tickles!” Foolish cooed. “I think your ready for your next surprise!”

Dream couldn’t hear Foolish by this point. His laughter echoed in the chest and there was a feather swishing by his ear preventing him from hearing a thing properly. He only knew something was happening when the tickling stopped. He still giggled and squirmed as the feathers inside his top shook but he was calm enough to realise Foolish had stopped. He couldn’t really get a good look on the Demi-God though. The only thing he could see was Foolish raised up another feather, and the tickling started again. But this time his arches were being attacked at the same time.

Dream thought one feather was bad enough, but both his feet being feathered at the same time was too overwhelming. Especially on his worst spot. He started laughing again, and pleading, though it was less with words and more just a jumble of sounds and letters. The pleading wasn’t even specifically pleading. The idea that there was a person causing this tickling nightmare wasn’t a concept he could fathom anymore. Every electric shock in his brain was just telling him ‘IT TICKLES’ and ‘ESCAPE’.

Dream jumped again, shaking the chest he was in. The feathers tickling him inside his chest were a minor problem to the fluttering along his arches. He jumped up again and this time the chest moved with him. It fell back down awkwardly, landing on it’s corner and toppling over on it’s side.

Foolish jumped back to avoid the chest hitting him, but it knocked off the cobblestone on top of the chest and the lid went flying open.

Dream poured out of the chest with all the feathers. The moment he felt himself on solid ground, and the tickling stopped, he yanked his legs up and quickly untied his ankles before rolling out of the pile of feathers and shaking out all the one still sticking into his clothes.

“Did I go too far?”

Dream’s head snapped to Foolish, who had noticeably taken a few steps back. A nervous smile tugged at his face, and his eyes were darting back and forth, trying to keep an eye on Dream but also watch for an exit.

“You’re dead.” Dream said calmly and stood up.

“N-Nohowh hold on!” A nervous giggle escaped the golden shark, and he backed up, throwing up his hands in some defence. “You started it!”

“And I’ll finish it if you don’t start running!” Dream made a grab for his boots. “You’re dead!”

Foolish quickly ran, giggling all the while as he pleaded for mercy. He summoned a trident and made a jump for the water. Dream followed after him, summoning his own trident. Of course he was a bit behind as he had to quickly lace up his boots and grab a pocketful of feathers.

It wouldn’t be enough to enact his revenge, but it was a start.

[powerfultenderness]

omg halloween fics im so excited! my first thought was the gang deciding to not dress up as anything spooky bc one member is comically afraid of the season, they go the wholesome route and all agree to dress as their heroes. peacemaker shows up in full 70s glam rocker costume. vigilante is, of course, dressed as peacemaker. and you show up in an adorably makeshift vigilante costume! hes saved your life a dozen times, of course hes your hero!!

Don't You Get It?

Rated: T+

Pairing: gn!Reader/Adrian Chase

Summary:  When the Adebayo’s request non-scary costumes at their Halloween party this year, you and Adrian are forced to get a little creative.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2192

A/N: Ah, ty for this suggestion! I liked it so much that it got a little out of hand and I had to cut out a couple of scenes! 😅

🔪[#Vigilante Halloween Masterlist] 🕊

[Masterlist]

[Dividers]

“No. Fucking. Way!” 

“What?” Leota called after you as you dashed further into the clothing section of the store.

When she caught up with you, you spun around with an excited flourish as you held up a black tee shirt. It had Vigilante’s signature chevron pattern printed on the chest. 

“Do you think Adrian gets a cut of the sales?” 

She laughed as you put the shirt back on the rack and grabbed one in your size. 

“How? They can’t just send a check to “Vigilante”. It would be cool though, maybe he'd be able to quit his job.”

You snorted out a laugh and dropped the shirt in your basket. “Can you imagine Vig as a full time crime fighter? You thought he was wanted on multiple counts of murder before?” 

“You’re right. Fennel Fields keeps him humble. I can’t believe you’re actually buying that.”

“I don’t know how, or when, but one day it’ll come in handy.”

She laughed and moved onto the next section of the store.

That was a couple of months ago. “Summer of Super Heroes” the store called their little promotion. There had been clothes based on other heroes, of course. Mostly Batman and Superman, but locations with local heroes also got merchandise based on them. Peacemaker and Vigilante had been hailed as heroes after the whole Butterfly incident, so they also had merchandise. It wasn’t much, it looked like you missed all of the Peacemaker merchandise, but you were lucky enough to snag a Vigilante shirt before it sold out.

Now Halloween was approaching and the Adebayo’s were hosting a party in which they were requesting no scary costumes. 

“I can’t believe I can’t go as Leatherface!” Adrian complained while you stitched him up from his latest recklessness. 

It hadn’t been an official ARGUS mission, but you had a major soft spot for the vigilante, so you gave him a standing offer to help him out whenever he needed, and he needed help often. According to him, even your band-aids were somehow even better than his! 

“I was gonna bring a chainsaw and everything! It’s not fair! I can’t even use a chainsaw on pretend bad guys!”

You finished up, double checking your work just for the chance to subtly run your fingers across his incredibly chiseled abs. “I don’t think there are going to be many pretend bad guys anyways, V.” You started and pulled your hands away from his warmth and removed your gloves. “Remember Adebayo suggested that we come as our hero or something.”

"That's so lame!"

You started to tidy up your med kit while he tossed a shirt on. “Hmm.”

“What?” He asked once his head popped through his shirt.

“Nothing, really. I just thought you’d be jumping at the chance to dress up as Peacemaker.” 

He loudly gasped and his eyes went wide.”You’re right! It’s not lame!” But just as quickly as he had changed his mind, he returned to pouting. “But, where am I going to get a Peacemaker shirt in time?!” 

“Just buy a red shirt.” 

“But it’s gotta have the dove of Peace on it!”

“Paint it on?”

“It won’t look good if I do it!” He huffed, “can you do it?”

“Hmm, probably not well.” You conceded. 

He whined and pouted again, so you continued to spin ideas for him. You couldn’t have your favorite boy feeling all sad, no matter how cute he looked.

“Doesn’t Chris have multiples of that shirt? Just use one of those?”

He looked at you dubiously. “I know you think I’m big and muscly,” he was, “but P’s shirts won’t fit me! It’ll look stupid if it’s all baggy!” 

“Okay. Tell you what, if you can get one of his shirts, I can do a bit of tailoring and bring it in for you.”

“Really?” He gasped and leaned forward on the desk he was sitting on.

“Yea. I’ll even let it back out after the party so he doesn't get mad at you for ruining one of his shirts.”

“You can do that?”

“Pretty easy, actually.” You nodded.

“You’re so cool!” He hopped off the desk and pulled you up into a big hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” He rocked you from side to side as he continued to hug you. 

“Calm down, Vig!” You winced from how loud he was.

He dropped you with an apology and a wide smile gracing his lips, then helped you clean and lock up before leaving Henenlotter in a rush, presumably to borrow one of Peacemaker’s shirts.

-

The next day he texted you saying that he got a hold of one of Peacemaker’s shirts and he was going to drop it off at your place. It was later than you expected when he actually showed up, but considering he was wearing his Fennel Fields uniform, you guessed he just got off of work.

“Hey,” he greeted as you let him in. “Can I change here?” He motioned to the duffel bag in his hands, one you’d seen many times before and knew to contain his Vigilante suit.

“Sure.” You took the Peacemaker shirt from him and tossed it on the back of your couch. Then you grabbed the measuring tape you set out for when he got there. “But before you put your Vigilante suit on, let me take some measurements.” 

“Ok!” He said cheerily, but he walked away towards your bathroom.

“Oh…no.” you blinked, “I meant…” well he was already in the bathroom…

Sure enough, a minute later he returned to the living room in nothing but his tactical pants and socks. Not that you were going to complain.

It surprised you (not for the first time) how soft his skin was. Usually when you patched him up, you wore gloves, robbing you of the feeling of his skin. But now, as you took his measurements, you were reminded of just how soft his skin was. So few scars actually covered his body, despite how often he got hurt. You’d only been around the team for a few months, a more than welcome field medic, and by all accounts, he should have way more scars, but even the wound you stitched up last night was nothing but a light pink blemish that was sure to fade completely rather soon. 

“Do you have a costume yet?” He asked once you let him go. He sat down on the couch and started to slip on the rest of his suit.

“Uhm, not really.” You half lied. You had an idea, and you were pretty certain you could get all the components for the costume from your existing wardrobe. 

“Oh! If you want, I can borrow another shirt from Peacemaker and we can match!” 

His smile was so cute that you almost felt bad for shooting him down. But there was no way you were going to wear a Peacemaker costume! “No thanks, I’ll think of something before the party.” 

“Aww! How awesome would it be if we were both Peacemaker though?” 

 You chuckled and steeled your nerves. Honestly, if he kept that up you might just give in. “Maybe we can wear matching costumes next year?”

-

You were running a little late to the party. A quick text to Adebayo meant that no one was worried, though Adrian kept texting you updates on the party and sent a few pictures as well. (You may have saved the selfies that he sent. He just looked so happy and so good that it was hard to resist!) 

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. It wasn’t just the 11th Street Kids, but some of Keeya’s friends and coworkers as well as some of their neighbors. So it was a bit hectic when Leota answered the door. She was balancing a bowl of candy in one arm and a dog in a doctor costume in the other.

“Hey! Happy Halloween! Come on in!” 

You followed her in with an enthusiastic greeting. 

The dog in her arms started to squirm so she motioned to a room off the side of the entryway. “You can put your coat and hat down in there.” 

“Alright.” You didn’t bother to correct her, that the plain black baseball cap that you wore was part of your costume, as you headed for the room she pointed to.

Before you even opened the door, you heard your name yelled from across the party.

Adrian had spotted you walking in, in fact he’d been eagerly checking his phone for a text from you and watching the door every time the doorbell rang. He quickly caught up with you as you entered what you assumed was a small guest bedroom, if the twin bed tucked in the corner and piled with coats was anything to go by. 

He started to excitedly tell you how everyone, even Peacemaker,  said his costume looked so good. And that because of your tailoring Peacemaker hadn’t even noticed that he borrowed a shirt from him in the first place!

“Wait, you didn’t even tell him you were borrowing his shirt? Adrian, isn’t that stealing?” You teased him as you dropped your coat with the others on the bed. 

“No! It’s not technically stealing because…” he stopped talking as he took in your costume.

Once you had the Vigilante shirt, it was easy to put together a Vigilante costume, as you already owned tactical pants and combat boots. 

You raised a brow at his sudden silence. “Adrian?”

“...Holy shit. You’re dressed as me?” 

“Yea!” You smiled, then pulled up the black neck gaiter you were wearing and popped on a pair of red sunglasses. “What do you think?” 

“...You’re dressed as me.” 

You blinked and started to get a little concerned that he was repeating himself. “Yea..? Not enough? Too much?” 

“No. I don’t think you understood what Adebayo said. We’re supposed to dress up as our heroes.” He emphasized his point by clapping his hands together.

You looked down at your costume before looking back up at him. “Yea dude, I got that. We had a whole conversation about it while I was giving you stitches, remember?”

He gave a little frustrated growl, like you weren’t understanding him, and scrunched up his face. “But you’re supposed to dress up as your hero! And you’re dressed up as me!” 

You took off your sunglasses and pulled the mask down so he could see your face clearly. “Adrian, Vigilante has saved me at least a dozen times, if not more! You saved me. So of course you’re my hero.” 

He swallowed, “o-oh…”

You broke the slightly awkward silence that followed with a quiet cough. “But if you want me to change or something, I’m sure Leota has some-”

“No! No. I just, uhmmm…” Adrian was looking up as he tried to think of something, anything, to say. His blush no longer stained his cheeks because of frustration, but you had just called him your hero. 

“I look that good, huh?” You giggled a little nervously as you copied the Peacemaker hero pose (that you’re pretty sure he just made up) that he kept doing in the pictures he sent you. 

That seemed to snap him out of his stupor and he grinned at you. “Well you are dressed as the second coolest hero!”

“What? I’m totally dressed up as the first coolest hero!” 

He blushed even more, even the tips of his ears were turning pink, and looked down at his feet.

“Which makes what I’m about to do a little weird.” You finished and flipped your hat backwards.

He looked up and tilted his head in that cute way he always did when he was confused. “What are you about to do?” “This.” You quickly kissed him, just a little peck of the lips. 

You meant to kiss him and dash off to the party to deal with however he felt about you kissing him later, but he quickly grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him. 

He dropped his forehead to yours, his nose lightly bumping against yours and he grinned. “Eat peace, motherfucker.” 

You snorted out a laugh, unable to control your chuckling until he kissed you. He was smiling against your lips, laughing with you even as he nipped at your bottom lip. 

“Nu-uh! You guys are not having sex in here!” Leota yelled as she stood in the doorway pointing at the two of you.

You and Adrian jumped apart slightly, but he managed to keep one hand on your back, as you looked at Leota in surprise, neither of you heard her open the door.

“We weren’t going to have sex!” You protested her assumption.

“We weren’t?” 

You coughed quietly and looked at him. “Well, not here, anyways!” 

Which meant that you were open to have sex with him anywhere else! “Awesome!” 

Leota eyed you, though you could see the amusement in her eyes, and ushered you out of the room.

You weren’t sure what was sweeter, the candy you kept munching on, or how closely Adrian was glued to your side for the rest of the night.

Tag list:

@lululandd

[tup-ika-5385]

Summary:

A Sequel to the fic "A Series of Hard Knocks," focusing on Tup and Dogma. Now six months after the trials of Umbara, Tup and Dogma are growing into themselves as well-established members of the 501st. Tup's been training more with Fives and Jesse, set on an ARC trooper promotion, and even Dogma has found a place in medical, where his intense focus and organization are both needed and appreciated. While helping Dogma study for his medic exams, discoveries are made, and help comes from unlikely sources as they unearth a foreboding plot.

Chapter 2 Summary:

Fives, Tup, and Dogma learn more about Tup's condition, and Hardcase makes a new friend.

Chapter 2: Just Sleep Deprivation

Racing down the empty Kaminoan hallway, Kix’s pounding footsteps echoed loudly on the duracrete floors.

He pushed himself faster as he remembered the barely hidden panic in Dogma’s comm.

“Kix, we need you in med-bay. I-It’s Tup.”

The few troopers he’d seen in the hallways knew better than to stop a medic on a tear towards medbay, and the front desk was unmanned when he got there, so it wasn’t long before he was entering the room in question. Opening the door, the first thing he spotted was Tup sitting on the exam table, hand in a plaster cast and tear tracks on his face. There were a few other weirdly-placed bandages visible under his off-duty reds, from what he could see, but the combination of covered injuries made no sense to his medic-trained mind.

“What happened?” He asked, moving closer to take a look at the casted arm. He didn’t know why they hadn’t just stuck it in a bone-knitter if a break was the issue.

Dogma answered first, and Kix was surprised to notice that Fives was present as well. “Tup was helping me study for my junior medic’s exam— he’s not injured, those were for practice. But I was doing the standard assessments, and Tup… he had some concerning results. I thought he was faking at first, for practice.” Dogma wrung his hands together anxiously even as he stood up straight to deliver his report. 

“Can I see?” Kix asked, and Dogma nodded, handing Kix the report before turning back towards Tup to give his hand a squeeze. Tup himself didn’t really respond, eyes worryingly unfocused, although he did lean on slightly to his brother’s touch.

Reading through the results, Kix was quick to agree that something was going on. Troopers didn’t just get… vision deficits and coordination issues without an explanation, and as he shone a penlight in Tup’s eyes to rule out a concussion, his worry increased. 

“Kix…?” Tup asked, wincing at the light, starting to come back to himself a little bit.

“I’m here, vod’ika. Just double-checking some things. How often have you been spacing out like that?” He asked, keeping his tone gentle. If not for these results, he would’ve chalked it up to the late hour, but now that he was looking for it, there were some small differences to Tup’s reaction times, even as he turned towards Kix to form a response.

“I dunno, maybe a couple times over the past few days. Haven’t noticed it myself that much, but I think it happened more when I was stressed.”

Kix nodded in understanding. He’d always worried about Tup’s headaches masking something more serious, given that most troopers didn’t even have headaches, and without Dogma’s exams, it would’ve been easy to miss this… whatever it was, especially because they were supposed to be redeployed in two days, right after Dogma finished his test. But he trusted Dogma’s assessment; something was definitely wrong here, and it worried him.

“Alright, Tup. After looking at the results, I agree with Dogma that something is probably going on, but we won’t know for sure until we take some scans. The Kaminoans like to do stress tests in these situations, but I’ve never been a fan of them personally, so we’ll be doing a more intense brain scan instead. There is a small risk of swelling and worsening of symptoms, but in most cases, it’s relatively minor.” 

Tup swallowed, looking nervous, but after an encouraging nod from Fives, he leaned into Dogma’s silent support and responded. “Okay… let’s do the scan.”

Kix gave him a comforting smile before moving to the control pad on the side of the room to set up the scanner. Inputting his authorization code, he frowned at the panel. “That’s odd. It’s saying that Level 5 atomic brain scans require authorization from either a Kaminoan or a natborn instructor. It’s been a while since I’ve used this type of scanner, I admit, but I don’t remember that being a requirement.”

Kix muttered a curse at the useless machine and Dogma shared a worried look with Tup. Given Dogma’s uncertain status after Krell’s death, they were both uncomfortably familiar with the consequences if the Kaminoans got word of Tup’s unexplained symptoms. 

Thankfully, the anxious silence didn’t last long as Fives stepped in, looking to Kix for permission before getting out a datapad and plugging into the system controls. He wasn’t a natural at programming it like Echo had been, but his hard-won computer skills came in handy more often than he’d like to admit, and it wasn’t long before he bypassed the login, stepping away to give Kix room to work. “All yours, vod.”

Kix smirked, glad that Fives’ ARC training was being used for good, rather than to escape medbay or turn off the bed-alarms like he’d done on one particularly memorable occasion. “And here I thought you ARC troopers were only good for your looks.” 

“What can I say? We’re the full package, vod.” Fives snarked back, moving out of the way for Kix to continue, now that he had access to the scanner. 

After another few seconds, Kix nodded. “Looks like we’re good to go. Are you ready, Tup?”

“Dogma should do it. It’s his practice case.” Tup mumbled, nodding as he laid down on the exam table, giving Dogma a faint smile. 

Kix gave Dogma a questioning look. “You feeling up for it, Dogma?”

Pushing down nervousness and dread, Dogma stepped forward to man the controls. “Yes sir… Fives, could you…?” Almost without needing to be asked, Fives took Dogma’s place keeping Tup company, only letting go of his hand when the scanner started to lower. 

The low vibrating of the scanner whirred unpleasantly as Dogma continued, slow and steady. Kix stood by to assist, just in case, but it wasn’t necessary. He grimaced as he heard a low groan from Tup, but before too long it was done, and the scanner was being removed so they could surround Tup once again. 

Once the scanner had been moved, Tup sat up unsteadily with a grimace. “Well, that didn’t exactly tickle. How long ‘till we see the results?”

“Not long,” Kix responded, waiting for the scans to upload, and finally they did, transmitting to Fives’ datapad so Tup could see them. Now, Tup had never seen a brainscan before, and neither had Fives, but the red circle on the scan didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“What the kriff is that?!” Fives asked.

“I don’t know, why are you asking me?!” Tup cried, still a little shaken from the scan.

Looking between the screen and Kix, Dogma asked in a low tone, “Is that a tumor?” His stomach filled with dread and his heart dropped into his boots, but he knew what the answer would be.

Kix bit his lip, sending Tup a concerned look. “Whatever it is, it’s pressing up against Tup’s frontal lobe. The swelling is probably what’s been causing all your symptoms, Tup.” He didn’t want to cause a panic, but internally he agreed that it didn’t look good. 

“W-What should we do?” Tup asked, looking to his brothers as his anchor. Fives was quick to put a steadying hand on his shoulder, and Dogma didn’t protest when an outstretched hand pulled him closer. 

Kix opened his mouth to respond when all of a sudden, they heard the rattle of supply crates outside the room and a distinct increase in the amount of traffic in medbay. Glancing at his chrono with a curse, he realized it was nearly 0600, and that their unoccupied corner of medbay wasn’t going to stay that way for long.

“We should get out of here before someone comes looking.”

“B-But what about Tup?!” Fives cried in dismay. Dogma gritted his teeth, clenching his unoccupied fist as tightly as he could, but morbidly, he understood Kix’s reasoning.

“I don’t like it, but the thing in his head isn’t going anywhere, but if the Kaminoans get their hands on him… it won’t be good. We’re not going to leave it in there, but we need to strategize, come up with a plan.” Kix sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Looking up at his worried brothers, Tup gave them a half-smile, mustering up his usual charm to reassure them, despite the sharp pain in his head and the weird disconnect he’d felt since the scan. “I’ll be alright, Fives. Like Kix said, it’s been there for a while; what’s one more day?”

And as they snuck out of the medbay, making sure to wipe the main computer first, Tup pushed himself forward even as he started leaning more heavily on his brothers than he had been before. Probably just sleep deprivation.

________________________

Letting out a jaw-cracking yawn, Hardcase rubbed bleary eyes as he made his way towards his morning rehab session. It would be one of his last ones, at least with Patch, since the rehab medic was finally returning to the 104th after a six-month posting with the 501st after Umbara. 

He’d left Dogma and Kix with enough instruction to continue helping the other troopers with their exercises, and he said he’d always be open for a comm if they ever needed help. But Hardcase was finally starting to get used to riding the waves of his chronic pain, between keeping up with his stretches, meds, and recognizing when his Z-6 just wasn’t in the cards for the day. Even the worst of his hypertrophic scarring was doing a little better since they arrived on Kamino, where they’d managed to pester the Kaminoans into allowing laser surgery that would usually be considered cosmetic and unnecessary. 

Walking down the hallways, Hardcase focused his thoughts on the therapy session ahead. Patch had informed him that the group today would be pretty small, given that the rest of the 501st was halfway to Ringo Vinda, but there’d be another trooper there with pretty similar experiences to Hardcase, with an added dose of traumatic brain injury. 

Maybe they’d have some thoughts on weapon modifications; Hardcase himself had gotten pretty creative recently when it came to modifying his heavy gun, figuring out which components were necessary safety features, and which ones were more kilos than they were worth. The thought brought a grin to his face as he entered the room, surprised to find it mostly empty, save one. Patch must be running late.

Hardcase did a double-take when he glanced at the other trooper in the room, if he could even call them that. Even sitting down, the other trooper easily dwarfed the standard issue chair he’d taken residence in, and Hardcase paused for a beat as he saw the other’s facial scar. It was definitely smaller than his own, but he was surprised to see that their hypertrophic scarring was almost worse than his own. Usually, with access to bacta, most scars wouldn’t look that bad, even in the rehab stage, and while his own difficulties were explained by Krell, the traitorous shabuir who’d denied him basic medical care, timely medical intervention usually helped with the worst of it. 

He noticed the other trooper shrink into themselves a little bit and Hardcase sheepishly realized that he’d been staring. Not wanting to prolong the awkwardness, he approached the other trooper, sticking a hand out. 

“The name’s Hardcase! I’m a heavy gunner from the 501st. What’s your name, vod?” Even with the obvious physical differences, he’d recognize a brother anywhere.

“Uh, my name’s Wrecker– I-I’m from Clone Force 99.” Wrecker responded with a lopsided grin. He pushed down some frustration as his voice stuttered, like it had since his injury. Tech told him that it’d get better over time, and it already had, but he hated how it made him stick out even more than usual, and some of the less-considerate regs had taken to teasing him for it. 

Thankfully, this reg didn’t seem to be one of them, and as he turned around to pull up a chair, Wrecker caught a glimpse of a rather large scar on the back of Hardcase’s head and continuing under his blacks.

“Hey, we match!” He exclaimed before he could stop himself. ‘Pointing out other people’s scars is rude,’ Hunter’s voice repeated in his mind, and he grimaced. That was another thing he’d noticed since his injury. He hadn’t had much of a filter before the accident, but it seemed like every other conversation, he’d stumble across another line, earning his brothers’ ire, or worse, the Kaminoans.

Thankfully, this reg– Hardcase laughed with an easy smile before sitting down. “We do! Practically twins, if I do say so myself.” He said, flexing a predictably reg-sized bicep, earning a returning laugh from Wrecker. Unfortunately, this sparked a few more laughs than he’d been expecting, and the reg’s smile turned a little strained and confused by the time that Wrecker finally stopped, panting a little bit.

“S-Sorry. ‘S from my head injury. Once I start laughing, it’s hard to stop.” He explained, and the reg made a noise of understanding before nodding. “Makes sense; I think there’s a Commando in the 212th who’s got the same thing.”

“Really?! I-I’m a Commando too!” Wrecker grinned, realizing belatedly that he’d stated the obvious, given his nonstandard armor, but too excited to care. 

“Yeah; his name’s Gregor. Only met him a few times, but he seems like a solid vod, if a little chatty. Not that I can really complain though.” He grinned self-deprecatingly. “Kix, my batcher, always says that my mouth moves faster than my common sense, but that’s usually just because he hasn’t had his morning kaff yet.”

“Sounds like my Sarg, H-Hunter.” Wrecker offered.

“Heh, well Kix is a medic, which is twice as bad! My trainers always said there was a leak in my growth tube or something, which made me hyperactive, I guess, but I say it’s just my natural charm. Not my fault he can’t handle all this before 0900.” He smirked, leaning back in his chair, earning a returned smile from Wrecker, who was finally starting to relax in the other’s presence.

“Tech says I’ve got bad impulse control.” Wrecker said, earning an encouraging look from Hardcase.

“Yeah? We've probably got that in common, then.”

“Yeah. He says it’s part of m-my head injury, but he suspects it’s always been there, with my enhancements an’ all.” 

“Enhancements?” Hardcase asked, looking intrigued.

“Yeah! I’ve got extra strength, compared to most troopers. I-I can lift a gunship if I try.” He grinned proudly. 

“I’m a little jealous, vod.” Hardcase returned the grin. “I’ve been working on it in rehab, but on bad days, I can barely lift my Z-6.” He was only in his lower armor for rehab, so he didn’t hesitate to shrug off his shirt to show Wrecker his scar. 

Wrecker gave a noise of admiration as he saw the extent of his scarring, as well as the detailed tattoo-work of a Krayt dragon covering most of it. “I got this blowing up a Seppie supply ship! Still gives me trouble most days, but Patch, the rehab medic, he’s got all these ideas to help manage it, which is great. Speaking of which, where is he?”

Wrecker looked towards the door with a shrug just as Patch ran in, panting slightly. “Sorry I’m late, vode! Kix said he’d wake me, but I guess he forgo– Hardcase, where is your shirt?!” 

Patch asked, looking briefly scandalized, prompting an uncontrollable fit of laughter from both troopers. And as Wrecker wiped tears out of his eyes, he decided that maybe some regs weren't so bad.

[le-amewzing]

through and through

Parknight and danger just mix so deliciously in a heart-pounding way and I'm. 83c *Note: This is a combined request by Pinkyeti38 and by Kate on FFN, asking for a Parknight where Parker gets shot and Knight's there to save him, with some Parker whump.

Fic: "through and through" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Alden Parker/Jess Knight, Nick Torres, & Timothy McGee, with some OC villains

Rating: T

Words: ~4,830

Additional info: romance, action/adventure, hurt/comfort, 3rd person POV

Summary: Their team is under fire, gets split, and is in dire straits. But, Parker thinks, there's no one else he'd rather face mortal danger with than [his very own, personal] Knight.

      The MCRT rolled up to the old Mullholland warehouse, an abandoned factory building in Virginia that had seen better days and hadn't been in use for several decades, going by the various shades of green and gray grime on the outside. Hell, even the old Mullholland logo was present but dilapidated, with the script M missing from the sign, along with all the vowels. And yet somehow all the broken windows were boarded up with fresh plywood.

      Parker huffed in the passenger seat while he scanned the imposing scenery outside the window. "Yeah, I think we're in the right place."

      He didn't need to turn or glance at Knight in the driver's seat to know which expression she wore, hearing his tone: brow pinched together accompanied by the tiniest of smiles. It was one of reluctant encouragement, since they were about to head into the lion's den.

      Parker would take any encouragement he could get right now, though, as he caught Torres' eye in the SUV with McGee and signaled for the other pair of agents where to park. Once the SUV and the sedan were hidden in the shadow of two abutting storage pods parked on the dirt lot in front of the Mullholland warehouse, they all clambered out and made for their trunks, exchanging blazers for protective vests.

      "McGee, did you finish downloading schematics for this place?" Knight asked as she pulled her ponytail free after slipping her NCIS jacket on over her vest.

      "Yeah, luckily," he answered, frowning at his tablet. McGee held it out for the other three to view. "I lost the signal a few miles back, but Kasie knew where we were heading and we'd already put in a call for backup. Kasie had said they might be twenty minutes out or more, though."

      "Better than nothing," Torres grumbled. He pulled a face when Parker and Knight settled him with matching looks of reproach. He pointed to the blueprints. "Please tell me I'm not seeing what I'm seeing, Tim."

      McGee gave them all a tight smile. "Afraid so. The Mullholland Company was a machinery factory with three floors. On the up side, no basement. Down side: Yeah…three floors to cover."

      Parker peeked around the nearest storage pod to double-check his count from when they'd first arrived. "And with four vehicles… Even a conservative estimate of two men per car, that's still double our number, McGee."

      "But Durmaz could be here himself," Knight reminded them.

      And there was the kicker. They couldn't delay when the big fish himself, Alim Durmaz, might be slumming it inside. "I miss the days when villains were more predictable," Parker groused as he checked his magazine before holstering his weapon.

      "Times definitely have changed," McGee said. "Not that Agah Bayar was a good guy, but…it still bothers me that someone like Bayar, at the top of the food chain in the arms trade, is off the table. Gibbs never trusted him, but Bayar was useful and precisely the sort of contact we needed for our case. But to dig up Durmaz instead…"

      Torres snorted. "Are you trying to say Bayar had a businessman's 'finesse,' McGee?"

      The pale fellow shrugged. "That's one way to put it."

      "At the end of the day, an arms dealer is an arms dealer, McGee," Parker pointed out. "Bayar, Durmaz—they'll be brought in at some point, dead or alive, by us or by another agency."

      McGee still frowned, but at least he nodded, seemingly accepting Bayar's fate.

      After a quick overview of the layout, Parker and the others armed themselves before rounding the storage pods to head in. He had half a mind to delay their approach and ask Knight and Torres to disable the vehicles of Durmaz's men—nothing serious, just puncturing a few tires to slow them down—but then Parker changed his mind, much as he hated to do so. While they were suited up and prepped for the worst, technically they'd come here after sending Durmaz several messages, reaching out, looking for information. It wouldn't do them any favors to get off on the wrong foot before even a simple "hello" had been exchanged, especially with someone rumored to be as aggressive as the young Durmaz.

      Torres led their group inside, with McGee and Parker not far behind and Knight pulling up the rear. There were no surprises for them in the former lobby entrance, save for how wide open the space was, as though someone had torn down a wall or two. That seemed easy to confirm, even, given the debris left scattered across the floor.

      "Hey, watch your step," Parker warned. "Last thing we need is anyone stepping on a rusty nail and catching tetanus." He kicked aside a board with the aforementioned protrusions for good measure.

      "Where to next?" Knight asked. "Left, right, or through the big doors?"

      "Big doors lead to the factory floor," McGee said while he squinted at a flickering light overhead. "Right takes us to the employee common areas, while left diverges. Stairs and some of the management offices."

      "Right then," Parker decided. "Even if Durmaz isn't with them, I wouldn't be surprised if his men set up shop there."

      The other three nodded with his assessment, and once more Torres took point. The closer the team got to the rightmost door, the louder sounds on the other side grew. So, Parker had been correct.

      That didn't mean they'd barge right in, though. Parker and McGee got behind the left side of the door, Torres and Knight to the right. McGee cracked it open on Parker's count, and Torres leaned forward ever so slightly—

      The door creaked.

      The sounds inside ceased.

      Parker held his breath. He swore he heard McGee, Torres, and Knight hold theirs, too.

      And then, the next second, they heard the telltale click of someone shifting a gun, aiming undoubtedly at them.

      Parker didn't waste his breath telling his team to run. They each turned on a dime and sprinted from the door as it fell to pieces, riddled with bullets. Parker ducked and felt a familiar hand on his back, keeping him bowed over while they ran.

      But their team's footsteps now had an echo in this abandoned lobby. It was hard to count how many people chased them, with the bullets spraying all around them, but Parker knew he heard extra footfall that wasn't his, wasn't Knight's, wasn't McGee's or Torres'.

      "Tim!" Torres shouted.

      Parker glanced over his shoulder at the same time Knight looked behind her. But there was no body on the floor, just the swinging doors that led to the factory floor.

      And, of course, two men each armed with an assault rifle still chasing the three of them.

      So now Torres ushered Parker along with Knight. They finished closing the distance, bursting through the left-side lobby door, with maybe three seconds to decide where they headed next.

      Their assailants kept shooting, however, even through the door, once more sending bullets and debris flying for Parker, Knight, and Torres to avoid.

      …or, at least, try to avoid, because either these guys had terrible aim or were enjoying some new toys without care or want for bullets. But even a broken clock was wrong twice a day.

      And even someone with shit aim was bound to hit something at some point.

      Parker hissed as a round pierced him by his right shoulder, just beyond where his vest could've protected him. The blow had the weight of a heavy punch behind it on top of the bullet slicing in, knocking most of the breath from him. Parker fell to his knees, trying to catch himself on either of his fellow agents, in the end feebly grasping Knight's forearm.

      Her tight grip on him signaled she knew exactly what had happened, even before she saw the dark, wet blossom on his jacket. "Parker!!"

      Her yelp made Torres do a double-take. He provided them cover as best he could while Knight dragged Parker to safety around the corner, into one of the nearby offices. "How bad?" he asked, reloading.

      "I—I don't know." Knight kept one hand pressed against the wound, making Parker grimace in pain, and she frowned as her eyes roved over his face. "I know, I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but—"

      More gunfire roared in the hallway, getting closer.

      Knight paled, her brow furrowed as she locked eyes with Parker. He patted the hand that kept pressure on his wound.

      "We're sitting ducks in here," Torres growled under his breath. He scanned the small office…and some of his anger dissolved. "Wait. Knight, look."

      The next thing Parker knew, Knight had his bad arm over her shoulders, her hand still pressed against his chest, and they began a slow shuffle on their knees, below the eye line of their assailants, to an old concealed door in the wall, revealing that these once had all been connected offices. Once they were two offices away, Knight propped Parker up in a mildewed chair to get a better look at him. "Nick, we need—"

      "No, you're gonna have to do this part on your own," Torres interrupted.

      Knight whirled around, and Parker caught sight of Torres' resigned expression past her torso. "Nick, you're joking right now."

      "I'm not." He jerked his chin at Parker. "Any other time, sticking together is the way to go. But they splintered Tim off from us so fast, Jess. And Parker…"

      Parker nodded, partly because he understood Torres' point of view and partly because he agreed it was their best option at the moment. There was also still a tiny part of him, of his old self, that wanted to call himself dead weight and insist Knight and Torres move on without him…but no. He'd been with this team well long enough and they'd been through far too many scrapes and close calls to try pulling that same old crap with them.

      "We draw too much attention together," Torres stated. Then he mustered a grin for the other two. "Besides, it'll help me worry less, knowing Parker's in safe hands."

      Parker quirked an eyebrow at that and Knight spluttered, but Torres was done talking. He checked that the coast was clear and darted out the way they'd come. A minute later, from what sounded like the direction of the stairwell, gunfire rang out, but so did Torres' taunts, and Parker and Knight heard what seemed to be stomps up the stairs…perhaps two armed men hustling after one spry and plucky Special Agent.

      "Remind me to smack him later," Knight growled, turning back to Parker and wheeling him in the chair through another couple doors, through a few more offices, until the background noise was too dimmed to be discernible.

      Parker snickered—and winced, since the movement jostled his shoulder too much. "Ah, you don't really want to smack Torres. It's…" He took a breath, closed his eyes in an attempt not to focus on his injury, and tilted his head up at her. "It's frustrating when someone's right and you know you can't argue with them."

      Knight twisted her lips around but nodded. Then she bent over a little, her eyes lingering on his face before returning to where she pressed just beside his shoulder. "My annoyance with him and my desire to round up Durmaz's men aside—we've got to stop your bleeding first."

      "Yeah, I won't argue with that."

      He smirked a little at the dry look Knight shot him, but she otherwise ignored the prod. Instead, Knight set her gun down within reach on the desk to her right. "All right. I, uh. I'm going to take my hand away, because I need to assess how bad it is… Are you ready?"

      Parker swallowed and gritted his teeth. "Just go for it, Jess."

      He closed his eyes, as if that'd help any, and the last thing he saw were those big, brown eyes of her go all round right before she lifted her hand away.

      The pressure from having her hand there hadn't been pleasant. But taking it away? Sudden pain flowed freely through him, racing like fire, and only the reminder that there were people here hunting them had Parker biting back a scream. He clenched his jaw, didn't care whether he broke any teeth—he needed to stay quiet. But fuck if it weren't near impossible to do just that.

      "I know!" Knight whimpered in undertones. With his eyes squeezed shut, he could only picture the expression she made right now, accompanying that wet voice, as if she'd been shot herself. "It hurts, I get that. But, Alden, I need to see— C'mon, lean forward, just a bit— Your jacket's in the way—"

      He curled around her arm partly, letting Knight shimmy his NCIS windbreaker off to assess the damage. The nerve endings around the bullet hole hurt so bad, Parker felt bile rising in the back of his throat. But he focused on breathing, on keeping quiet, on Knight's fingers along his back, on her voice.

      "Okay… Okay, I think this is good," she said. Her voice sounded so close, inches from his ear. She prodded the wound's exit on his back, quick to apologize when Parker hissed again. "I'm sorry! It's just— Look, I think it was a clean shot. There's nothing lodged in you, Alden. This is good."

      Parker swallowed a little bit of saliva in his dry mouth while she leaned him back against the chair. He sighed. "…it could be worse," he conceded. Then he noticed how red and damp Knight's eyes were. "What?"

      She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, which was clean compared to the fresh red on her fingers. "There's—just so much blood. Your jacket's a mess."

      He glanced down at the white shirt he'd worn to the office today. Even accounting for Knight's handprints, the bloodstains had dyed the thing well. "My jacket's my least concern right now." He tried shifting in the chair, but once more he winced. Slight movements were not helping his right arm, through which pain radiated.

      Knight shed her windbreaker. "We can make use of it, though," she said. She wound her windbreaker up, twisting the thin material and knotting it at the sleeves' cuffs. Knight slipped the makeshift sling over Parker's head and gently got his injured arm into place. Then she balled up his own jacket. It had a hole in the front and was in tatters on the back, but, balled up and tucked into his sling high up, it could apply pressure and keep Knight's hands free for her weapon. "There. That should help."

      Parker got to his feet with Knight giving him a hand up. "You're right, it—" But he stopped and gave Knight a partial twirl. His heart sank. "Jess, you're bloody."

      "What?" Knight finally noticed the red smeared along her right arm. "That's probably just yours…yOWCH! DAMMIT, Alden, you didn't need to press a finger to it to prove your point."

      She scowled at Parker's raised eyebrows. But he pulled away a bloodied fingertip from her right shoulder. "It's more than a graze. We need to tie it off."

      "Well, we're not exactly in their infirmary—"

      Parker didn't need the obvious stated. While he couldn't reach the knot behind his neck, he started to slip his bad arm free from the sling she'd placed on him.

      But Knight grabbed his left hand, stopping him. "Hey! Okay, okay… I hear you…" She moved about the office, checking the drawers and the lone file cabinet for anything useful, to no avail. "…well, maybe it's time to get moving. We might come across something in a different room."

      Parker frowned, but he conceded for now.

      The maze of offices turned out to be a fruitless endeavor. Each room was as empty as the last, with the exception of a broken chair or a desk missing drawers here and there. Eventually they left behind the management offices and found what Parker presumed were maybe research and development. These offices had supplies, but nothing that would help them right now. With Mullholland having made machinery and only machinery, he and Knight were surrounded by abandoned mechanical tools. There was nothing but metal and grease and oil cloths, at best—nothing they could use for a fresh wound.

      And fresh it was. Knight had panicked over Parker's blood, but he kept a close eye on her right arm as they moved throughout this part of the factory. His current worry had been replaced with the sight of the crimson stream that kept trickling down her arm, not stopping, not crusting. "Jess," he said, pausing their crawl by stepping in front of her.

      "We haven't found anything to use," she said.

      But Parker shook his head. "If you're not going to undo part of the sling, then tear my sleeve to use." He held out his left arm. The long sleeve of his formerly pristine Oxford stood in stark contrast with the short-sleeve tee she'd worn today.

      Knight frowned.

      "It's going to be the cleanest thing we find in here."

      She gave a little huff and scrunched her nose up at him. But then she was leaning down to reach into her boot. Knight straightened up with a small knife in hand. "This way at least I don't have to tear it."

      He snickered, which didn't hurt as much this time now that his arm was more secure. "You know, this is not the way I prefer you wear my shirts," he quipped.

      Knight laughed but glared at him all at once. "Do not make me laugh while I've got a knife in my hand…!" she scolded. She punctuated that with a little slap to his good shoulder as further reprimand.

      Parker grinned, in spite of their dangerous reality, and he assisted Knight in wrapping the crude bandage around her gash and knotting it, since it was difficult to do it on her own. But finally the stream of red had stopped, and he and Knight could catch their breaths. He ran his good hand through her hair.

      She rested her cheek in his palm.

      "Never a dull moment with this team. Hell, with this agency," he remarked.

      Knight nodded. "But at least it's not on a boat, right?" Her smirk was small…but it was fragile, too. The jest was halfhearted, at best.

      So Parker kissed her—brief but strong, trying to convince them both that they would get out of this situation. Alive.

      They pulled apart and resumed their scouring of the main floor. It was a nerve-racking process, since McGee's tablet signal hadn't been the only thing dropped once they'd arrived; despite hearing no static, Parker and Knight knew their comms were down. On top of that, though Knight was trained to use weapons with either hand, Parker would be shooting with his non-dominant hand when they next faced an opponent.

      The odds really were not swinging in their favor today.

      On this side of the factory, the main floor came to an abrupt end, culminating in a narrow staircase which Knight insisted Parker take first. They emerged on a short landing that opened up to three large overseers' offices set slightly above, beyond a wide, squat, four-step staircase.

      But Parker and Knight didn't have a chance to go investigate those rooms, because two heads with guns cocked emerged from the nearest office.

      Knight knocked Parker aside, taking one gunman out and nailing the other after the second got off one round and missed. She heaved a sigh of relief, which Parker echoed when she drew him back to her. "I think I've had my fill of excitement for—"

      But their reprieve lasted but a second before Parker saw movement out of the corner of his eye and returned the favor. He shoved his bad shoulder into her bad arm, but Parker blinked the stars from his eyes and sought the third gunman out, taking aim and pulling the trigger.

      The bullet hit its intended target, the previously hidden suspect, but this time groans followed the shot.

      Parker huffed, struggling to catch his breath as he and Knight leaned on each other, half propping the other up. Damn pain was still capable of winding him…

      "Stars in my eyes, Alden—let's try not to do that again," Knight said.

      "Ah, yeah… Sorry about that, Jess." He straightened up a moment after she did, though. Once certain they had their bearings, they shuffled over to the bleeding gunman hiding around the corner near the stairwell that had brought Parker and Knight up here.

      Knight squatted and propped the guy up. "You're gonna wanna start talking, buddy."

      He scowled at them and then laughed, never taking his hand away from where blood spilled in thick, little rivers from between his fingers where he covered a spot on the left side of his torso. "Nothing left to lose," he said, though his voice was raspy, and he was close to gasping.

      Parker frowned at his response. "Why's that? You guys abandoning ship?" Ice ran down his spine as a new possibility occurred to him. "Hey. Is this place rigged to blow?"

      The gunman rolled his blue eyes. "You know nothing," he spat, each word coming out in short spurts.

      "Durmaz," Knight said. "Is he here? Was he ever here today?"

      The guy shook his head. "Durmaz left yesterday. He doesn't take meetings at the crash pad."

      Knight looked up and locked eyes with Parker. "Crash pad?"

      Parker shook his head. "Nothing came up in what McGee or Kasie dug up on him."

      Knight jostled the guy awake. "Hey. Hey. What's the crash pad?"

      "Here," he answered. He looked at her with half-lidded eyes. "Only funny business here…no serious business…just…" He took a sighing breath. "Test runs," he finished.

      Parker gripped the handle of his SIG tighter. "Great. We've walked into their firing range," he mumbled.

      He felt Knight tense beside his leg. But she shoved the gunman, harder this time. "All right, so this is your playground. You've got the upper hand," Knight told their suspect.

      He grinned. "We do…"

      "Yes, you all do. So it won't hurt to tell us how many more of you there are."

      The gunman closed his eyes again. For a brief moment, Parker worried that he'd lost enough blood, that that sickly pallor wasn't for show and they were talking to a corpse now. But then his eyes snapped open. He stared up at Parker as if facing Death—then his eyes refocused when Knight moved into his line of sight. He licked his lips and stared at the ground. "…your friends are gone. There are another three of us. You won't make it out of here."

      It wasn't a threat. There was no heat in the guy's voice, nor any hint of nastiness. Perhaps a trace of pity.

      "…thank you," Knight said, standing up and backing away with Parker.

      The gunman said nothing. Even if he had anything else to offer, he no longer could.

      "While I doubt they got McGee and Torres, I believe him about his own friends," Parker said. They retreated towards the short landing and made their way across after they caught sight of something they'd missed before: a small platform looking out over the factory floor.

      "Ditto," Knight agreed. They descended from near the overseers' offices onto the outlook platform, which had been blocked in by glass windows back in the day. But the glass was long gone, leaving them with a pair of thick beams to hide behind.

      They were right to doubt the dying gunman. From up on the platform, Parker and Knight had a wide view of the empty factory floor and spotted McGee and Torres entering the floor from opposite corners. McGee was a little bloody and Torres was limping, but they each had their guns tracked on an assailant who knelt in the middle of the factory floor with his hands behind his head, offering surrender.

      Parker and Knight exchanged a skeptical glance.

      Knight leaned slightly over the ledge—and then she grabbed a fistful of Parker's shirt and pointed.

      No wonder one gunman was a sitting duck…or acting like it. The remaining two suspects were busy sneaking up behind McGee and Torres.

      Things were moving slowly below them, but Parker and Knight wouldn't have much time to intervene. He pulled her back towards the overseers' offices so they could plan and not risk being heard. "Jess—"

      Her eyes were wide. "No, I know. We can't call out to them. Things would go to hell in an instant."

      He nodded. But, worse than that, Parker made a decision that sat like soured milk in his stomach: "We have to split up—you take the right, I'll take the left."

      Knight's fear was clear as day on her stony face, along with a hint, maybe, of anger in that vein pulsing along her jaw, anger that she had to execute her least favorite tactic for the second time today.

      But Parker respected and admired Knight for not delaying.

      She didn't kiss him. She didn't reach out for him.

      Knight trusted him to know what he was doing, to lead them.

      Parker returned to the outlook platform while Knight ran the rest of the length in front of the overseers' offices. There was a small nook where there had to be another staircase, mirroring the one Parker and Knight had climbed before, but there was also an opening, and Parker could spy Knight aiming her gun from his position.

      The only problem now was that they hadn't determined a signal…no, that and Parker wasn't certain Knight could see him.

      Parker rested his gun on the ledge, primed at Torres' would-be attacker across the way.

      Off to Parker's right, he heard Knight scuff her boot, and a pebble tumbled down the nearest steps.

      Ah.

      So they did have a signal, after all.

      "NCIS!" Parker and Knight bellowed from above.

      Down on the factory floor, the sudden noise caught Durmaz's men completely off-guard. Knight's intended target froze, even. Parker's turned his attention from Torres up to the outlook platform to shoot, but Knight and McGee were quicker. McGee noticed the man behind Torres and popped off two rounds while Knight sent two into the center mass of the one behind McGee, leaving the man pretending to be bait to Torres, who tackled and cuffed him before he could reach the assault rifle lying within reach on the floor nearby.

      Knight's target lay motionless on the floor, but McGee's stirred, so McGee jogged towards him and propped the gunman up, cuffing his hands in front and applying pressure to where McGee's bullets had glanced off his collarbone. "Thanks for the perfect timing," he called up to Parker and Knight.

      "I did say we draw too much attention together," Torres teased, going so far as to cluck his tongue at them. Then he shrugged. "But thanks for keeping my beautiful face intact."

      Knight groaned, but Parker snorted. "Eh, just doing the job." That had McGee beaming up at him, and Torres snickered and shook his head.

      Parker backed away from the outlook platform, the adrenaline wearing off now that the factory was welcomingly quiet…for a heartbeat. The next thing he knew, Knight came running to meet him back out in front of the steps by the overseers' offices. And she didn't slow down one bit, crushing him in a hug when she all but crashed into him. "OW, ow, ow, ow, Jess, ow—"

      "OH, God, I'm so sorry, I just—"

      He winced but tried to muster a smile for her, especially when she helped him holster his gun.

      Then Knight cupped Parker's face in her hands, her brow furrowed even as she ran her thumbs along the whiskers below his cheekbones. "I hate those five words, you know."

      Parker frowned in confusion.

      "'We have to split up.'"

      "…ah." There it was, the sour milk, just for being reminded of his decision.

      Knight rested her forehead against his. "I know the context, and it was a good call, but—" She paused to gather her thoughts, and she managed to smile when she met his eyes. "—it was hard to follow, Alden. Fucking difficult. Just so you know, it'll be extremely hard to get rid of me."

      Parker chuckled, gently, and returned her smile as he wrapped his good arm around her waist. "No one's looking to get rid of you," he assured her.

      At that, Knight relaxed against him. This time, when they kissed, it wasn't so brief, but it still conveyed as much as the one earlier had…

      They had gotten out of this, together, alive. And Parker was glad to have someone like Knight by his side, looking to be here, through thick and thin.

8DDD SO! First off, hello, fellow Parknight fans~ I took a brief break (scheduled but not announced) and I'm v happy to deliver this first new Parknight after said break! :D This is actually the last of my pre-s19-finale ideas, *LOL*; I've had this thing outlined since May 7th (I was so busy with Parknight feels back in April and May, like whoa), and I'm ECSTATIC I finally found the time to fulfill this awesome request, bc the plot bunnies rly multiplied here. For one, the casual flirting btwn Parknight? Nonstop. But for two? My OC baddie, Alim Durmaz, who didn't even make a physical appearance, *lol*—I sincerely wanna write him againnnnn. Like. I have some fleshed out notes for him, folks. He needs to appear…! :3c Now, for my fellow OG NCIS fans, I will say I'm not big on the idea of Agah Bayar being dead…but I never actually said he's dead, so. ;) (Ngl, I always found Bayar to be super interesting, yo…and it's also been a while since I last watched s12, so here I am, debating with my parents as to whether he was killed off then??? Bc idr but if so, then this fic is slightly AU and rightly so, dammit. XD) ANYWHO. Lessee… Oh, this was mostly Parker whump but also some slight Knight whump for me, *lol*—I like seeing them take care of each other…! And I guess I gotta write the Knight whump myself. ;P (I just like the idea of him fussing over her and her being exceptionally stubborn. XD) Also, random, but it feels ironic in some ways and yet ultimately appropriate, that this is the first thing I write after "Zeptosecond." XDD (But also after **and this is a spoiler-free zone** the s20 opener that kinda left me wanting. ;P) Final thoughts: The title is a reference both to Parker's thoughts at the end and to his injury (it was a through-and-through gunshot wound). :3c The song "Lullaby of Birdland" gave me Parknight feels when I outlined this, initially (it feels like a good Parknight theme -w-). Btw, the main joke for me while writing this was every time Knight physically had to move Parker or smthg close—all I could think was, "Manhandling: when you gotta handle your man." X'DDD Also, this was done for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge as well as the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #818: reaper) in the HPFC forum on FFN. AHHHH, this was a lot of fun to write…! I hope you two enjoyed this, Pinkyeti38 and Kate…! ;w; And tysm for requesting. For everyone else: Don't forget you, too, can request fic or art or just come gush about Parknight or NCIS with me, and do check out the parknights tumblr when you need some PK sweetness for your soul~

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[crqelsummer]

Title: the next chapter Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Pairing(s): Jirou Kyouka/Kaminari Denki/Yaoyorozu Momo Character(s): Jirou Kyouka, Kaminari Denki, Yaoyorozu Momo Additional Tags: Baby Fic, this is actually just about them bringing home their new baby, Mention of dead parents, Adoption Language: English Archive Warnings: None Rating: Gen

Published: 2023-02-12. Word Count: 3,661. Chapters: 1/1

Summary: momo never thought that responding to one collapsed apartment call would result in this. but now, she thinks she was destined to meet him.

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Momo thinks this may be the most scared she’s ever been. Or apprehensive at least. Or all of the above. She hasn’t been able to decide for some time now.

Not since they’d woken up, all too early because that’s when the paperwork done and he was ready to be taken home. Not when Momo had gotten the text, grabbing her phone over her slumbering partners and bolted up so quick she’d woken both of them. Not when there’d been such a nervous energy between all three of them as they’d silently gotten dressed, tossed jackets on into the dark early morning in barely cohesive outfits. Not when they’d been in the car, quiet as each person could catch the gaze of another but say nothing. Not when they’d already had the baby’s carseat in between her two partners, waiting for its occupant. It isn’t until they’re actually signing their names on the form for their nametags in shaky handwriting in the hospital do all the words start to spill out of Denki like a faucet.

“Did we fill everything out for him? I mean, I remember going through all the files and stuff, but what if we forgot something? Like they have our IDs right?” He asks, voice quivering and barely at a whisper as they walk down the halls, the click of her own heeled boots on the linoleum punctuated with the far heavier footsteps of Kyoka and Denki barely breaking the silence, “They said it was processed but what if something went wrong?”

“Double checked. And then triple checked, they know who we are, Denks.” Kyoka says to her right, a barely there nervous grin crossing her expression. Kyoka had been the most closed off all morning, playing with her earphone jacks with a terrified air to her as she’d sat by in her plum sweatshirt and jeans. Kyoka had been the most surprised when Momo had arrived home almost three weeks ago with a burning question on her lips. About him, about the baby she’d rescued earlier in the day. The one who had no parents, the one she’d saved from the wreckage and couldn’t stop thinking about. She’d been stunned by the news, and had needed time to process what Momo was asking. She hadn’t known if it was right, if after the heels of her tour that it was even a good idea. 

*“Momo, we all have lives already. Inserting him into it could upturn everything — I need him to feel loved by all of us.”*

But eventually, she’d come back to her with a nervous grin and agreed wholeheartedly to the motherhood she’d soon experience. While Momo had been away on missions lately, she’d been the one taking care of all the paperwork. Done her neat scrawl of writing, Kyoka would know if they were missing anything. Had stayed up some nights organizing everything, had exclaimed proudly one night that their application had been accepted. Her critical eye wouldn’t let anything important keep them back from this, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

“Hard not to worry, y’know?” He chuckles lowly, scratching the back of his neck as Momo glances for the office she’s looking for, “I mean, they’re putting us in charge of a whole *baby*. I didn’t think they just did that.”

“Babies are born everyday, you think they just lock them off before you reach a certain achievement?” Kyoka asks, her grin growing wider at her husband’s indignation. It’s softer this time though, “We’re all he’s got.”

“I know. It’s just…” Denki doesn’t finish his sentence, trailing off. He changes his grip on the baby carrier, scratching the back of his neck. Denki had been the most concerned about their new adoption. Worried about treating him right, worried about whether he’d grow up happy and healthy in a home of three pro heroes. He’d never given fatherhood a second thought, and the word *no* was just about on his lips when Momo had announced to her partners that there was an orphaned baby she really thought they could take in. 

*“I — Momo. We’re pro heroes, I don’t want to be the reason he’s orphaned again some day, or has to live with my name on an urn somewhere. He needs people that can be there for him no matter what.”*

Given that time though, it had been a hesitant yes that Momo had to confirm that it was what he really wanted. She’d sat down personally with him, made sure he wasn’t just saying yes because his wife and partner were. He’d sat across from her, rubbing the back of his head before turning to her with a nervous grin and nodding, sparks jumping off him when Momo had pulled him into a hug. And it was, and through that worry, he also managed to be the one who’d babyproofed their home and bought everything known to man that he thought could help. Momo doesn’t know how many gadgets he’d bought already, coming home with new ones the closer and closer they got to today. He constantly claimed they were necessary and they might need them, even as Kyoka had begun hiding them away, “Wanna do it right. *Hope* we do it right.”

She remembers coming home one night, then realizing the home smelled distinctly of paint. Shucking off her shoes, she’d padded into the little office turned nursery to find her wife and partner laughing with yellow, lavender and rose paint on them. It was more artsy than she’d given them credit for, a deep rose along the baseboards while the sky had been painted purple. Denki had been in the process of painting haphazard stars when the two of them had noticed Momo in the doorway, pulling her in to help finish the project. That was when she’d truly gotten excited, allowed herself to feel properly happy about the prospect of a baby in their home. They’d stepped back together, looking at their handiwork and dissolving into laughter.

Momo doesn’t think she’d loved the pair of them anymore than she did in that very moment.

They stop behind the door, a little abruptly as Momo catches the numbers as she mulls over Denki’s words. She doesn’t like having second thoughts, they’d certainly gotten her hurt enough times. She has to make a plan and go through with it, and she has her plan. All lined up in a row, and she thinks she’s ready. She’s has to be ready, with both of her partners and now her baby relying on her. How had she even gotten here?

Late in the morning a month ago now, when she’d responded to a call of a collapse of an apartment building. Biting and blustery just days before Christmas, it’d just been her and Shiozaki responding to the call of a minor villain attack, when she’d heard the crying of a child just underneath some rubble. She’d raced ahead while Shiozaki detained the man, careful not to let anything else fall on her as she came across the bassinet, the baby boy inside and miraculously unharmed other than being dirtied. She’d lifted the heavy plank of wood off of the dented crib, then pulling the shrieking child out. Momo had been so scared, so afraid that he was hurt. Pulled close to her chest she’d picked her way back through the ruined apartment, hoping her body heat would’ve comforted him until he quieted. Wrapping her cape around him, she’d carried him out to the paramedics, begging them to keep her updated if he got back to his family.

He didn’t. He was orphaned that day.

And Momo had asked the only thing that she thought to do. Ask if she could take him in. They said they’d get back to her on the legal and medical side of things. Then she’d gone home, still in her costume and had breathlessly asked her partners how they felt about being parents.

She turns to the both of them, in their early morning grogginess and anticipation bubbling out of them through their expressions. Her own smile is already tugging at the corners of her mouth underneath her medical mask, “We already love him so much, Denki. That’s what he needs and what he’ll hopefully treasure for the rest of his life. We’ll make our mistakes, but that’s to be expected, dear.”

His amber eyes twinkle into something hopeful, something soft. Possibly thinking about what she already was. Kyoka reaches out a hand to him, and he threads his fingers through her’s. Rapping twice at the door, a smaller voice calls out, “Come in!”

The same nurse she’d spoken to weeks ago when he was first brought in, still small and unaware, sits behind the desk. She stands all too quick, accidentally hitting her knee in her quick rising, “S-Sorry for calling you all in so early! The paperwork just cleared so soon and he’s ready to go home and everything, we figured it was best to get him out of the hospital as soon as possible.”

“That’s quite alright.” Momo says, itching with nervous energy. The way her hair stands up on the back of her neck says Denki is feeling the same, “He’s alright then? Everything clear?”

“Yes!” She says all too loudly, then lowering her voice with a labored exhale, “Yaoyorozu — that’s what we’re calling him for now — he’s doing great. As far as I’m concerned, you saved him from a month, maybe two month long stay in the hospital. We were really only worried about his skull, but it turns out he was completely safe from the collapse. The dust inhalation was a big concern but that also cleared up pretty quickly. Other than that, the rest of the time was for observation and to let three of his fingers set.”

“They broke?” Denki asks before she can answer, the look on his face being nothing short of heartbroken. Momo hadn’t even known about that part, the infant had seemed okay when she’d dropped him off with her. Still crying, still breathing — he was alive and alright. How had she not noticed? “Is he okay?”

“He’s perfectly fine, Chargebolt. They did break on impact, but one of our nurses was able to reset the bones and set him on an accelerated healing path. No chance of misshapen fingers either.” She smiles brightly in his direction, “Other than that, his other health notes are this file —” She reaches behind her to the desk, handing Momo a thicker manila folder, “He’s already gotten most of his shots, though I’ll likely see you again in the next couple of months to follow up on more. Health history is more dicey though, we don’t have much from his birth parents. Let them and his foster parents find peace, but anything the hospital did have on file is in there.”

She doesn’t move to immediately open it, this can be pored over later. She would have to find allergies and such as soon as they got settled and home, “Thank you.” Is all she says, her mind already spiraling to later in the morning, when they’d be back at the house and able to get him settled, “Is there anything we should know beforehand?”

“Ah,” She stops to think, tapping a finger on her desk, “Nothing that raised any major red flags. You’ll have to be careful with him though, we aren’t entirely sure but we think he might have some hearing damage on his left side. That’s something we’ll have to wait and see on in regular checkups, but I figure it’s something you may want to know.”

“Hearing damage?” It’s the first thing Kyoka’s said to the nurse, a curious but concerned tone in her voice, “How so? Why?”

“During the villain attack, the apartment building he was in with his parents partially collapsed. That sort of noise could be damaging to anyone, but especially to brand new ears.” The nurse answers, tapping her own left ear as if to demonstrate. Momo remembers hearing the building crumble, but hadn’t thought about what that meant for survivors, “We did a hearing screening while he was here, his right is fine but he scored lower on the left. We doubt it will develop to deafness, but it’s a note in his file to watch.”

Kyoka makes a noncommittal sound, certainly already thinking through the new information. 

“Well, if that’s all on the administrative side, why don’t we get you all settled to meet baby Yaoyorozu properly?” The nurse asks chipperly, walking around the three of them back down the hall in the opposite direction. They follow after her dutifully, the excitement and anticipation thick in the air. Pediatrics is emblazoned on the wall when they pass through another waiting area, not sparing the other patients another glance when the nurse pushes through the double doors. She turns another corner, this time greeted by a smaller hallway with none of the doors having namecards except the one on the end. Her surname is scrawled across the notecard in quick ink strokes, and her heart skips a beat as the nurse slides the door open.

It’s a smaller room than her office, as it holds little more than a hospital bassinet and some other machines that have been stored away in a corner. A small sofa and chair round out the corner as well as a bed in the corner closest to the door on the right. The walls are painted a pastel yellow, as if welcoming in the daylight as the sun just barely peeks out from the horizon. The gurgling from the bassinet is what snaps up her attention first, and the three of them take their fair amount of hand sanitizer before growing closer to it.

The nurse is there first, carefully doing a once over before smiling up at all three of them. Momo’s heart squeezes just as it did the first time she saw the infant, but he’s cleaner than he was almost a month ago. Gone is the dust and soot, instead just baby-soft pale skin settled against the white bodysuit he’s in. Deep purple hair wisps not dissimilar to Kyoka’s own peek out from underneath the small hat he wears, and when his eyes meet her’s, its the colbalt blue that’d broken her heart when she’d pulled him out from the wreckage. Held tight against her body to protect him from falling debris, all while he had been watching her with wet blue orbs.

She doesn’t know if he recognizes her. But he holds her gaze, staring. The nurse gently picks him up, cradling him when she looks up at the three pros, “I’m sure you all can shed a few layers? I can turn up the heat a little if it’s too cold.”

They’re all about to trip over each other with how quickly they’re taking off their outer layers, left in longer sleeved shirts. They slip back onto the sofa, almost shoulder to shoulder with Momo in between them. Her hands are quivering as she tries to dry the sweat off of them, the nurse leaning forward to hand the now very-much-awake baby to them. And then, all of a sudden the warm infant is against her chest and Momo is breathing far too hard. Cradling him careful, remembering to hold his head properly, she allows herself to take a small sigh against her mask. The nurse says something, something Denki answers and then she’s gone. And they’re alone.

In that small room, in that hospital, they become parents to this little bundle of joy. 

Momo is only having a *minor* freakout. Very, very minor as she watches Denki rub his anti static wristbands vigorously out of the corner of her eye. The baby, he doesn’t move at first more than squirm in her arms, but nestles into her arms well enough. He’s bigger than he was a month ago too, how much growth he’d had is near astounding. Kyoka is the first to reach out a tentative hand to the baby, her own hands shaking just as much as Momo imagines her own are. Careful, ever so gently, to rest on his hands that her’s dwarf. His eyes dart over to Kyoka, a small noise escaping him as he reaches his tiny fingers to wrap around her index. Something strangled escapes her wife’s throat, something akin to a sob but she can’t tell. 

“He’s…God he’s so small.” Denki whispers, as if he’s scared too make too much noise. He leans against Momo’s left shoulder, body shivering as if there’s a draft in the cool room, “How old is he?”

“Only a few months. Suzuki had said according to records just about three,” She responds, remembering when the nurse had sent over the few records that she had in an email. She frowns down at the infant, suddenly hit with a wave of sadness, “So early to be among the destruction of villains.”

“And he doesn’t have any living family left?” Denki asks, with a comforting hand on her thigh.

“No. They did everything they could to place him back with a family member, but they couldn’t find anyone,” Momo responds, watching as he looks around at all three of them. Soaking in their appearances perhaps, committing them to memory. She briefly wonders what his foster parents were like. She hadn’t seen them, hadn’t found them. Later on someone else had reported them among the dead in the rubble, with an obituary on the newspaper website only days later. Momo hopes she and her partners can treat their little one with same love they would’ve given him. She’s already committed their names to memory, with the intention of telling him one day whenever he asked, “He was placed with a foster family around a month old, but those details I don’t know anything about.”

“So…we’re really the only ones he has?” Denki’s voice cracks, as he leans his head deeper into the crook of Momo’s shoulder. If she’s right, his eyes are damp at the thought. Kyoka does the same against her shoulder, now playing with the boy’s tiny fingers. He coos at her lowly, blinking a few times as he snuggles closer into her arm, “That’s…I don’t even know. I mean, what’s his name?”

“Seiji.” Momo says, remembering the characters that had been on the document in one of the many emails between her and the agency. Lawful and just, when she’d looked up what the name meant. She thought it would be fitting one day, “It’s what was in his files. I don’t know if that’s the name his foster parents gave him or the one his birth parents did. But that’s what it is. Our dear Seiji.”

As if recognizing his name, Seiji blinks up at her, gurgling as his grip slips on Kyoka’s finger. His eyelids are growing heavier, as he eventually lulls off into a light sleep, just barely shifting enough to grasp onto Momo’s shirt. The small, barely there tug makes her eyes water. Her baby. Their baby. *Their son*, and she doesn’t really know how to process it yet. It’s as if all of her emotions are slamming into her at once, and she just wants to do everything she can to protect the little one she has in her arms. He looks so content there, barely aware of the the things that’d happened only a month ago. She thinks he must be so thrilled with the idea of not spending any longer in the sterile pediatric ward and instead in his own crib in their room. Just as they’d prepared so meticulously as soon as their papers were submitted. Onesies ready to be worn and grown out of, a stroller ready for long walks in the park. Enough of their friends’ merch and their own for him to make a life out of.

She leans back into the sofa, exhaustion creeping into the corners of her subconscious. It already feels like it’s been such a long morning, and it feels like a great weight has been taken off her shoulders with the arrival of Seiji. Kyoka and Denki move to lean back against her. They’re so close together, the warmth of each person on either side of her easily making up for the drafty room. Denki’s the first to speak, his voice cracking ever so slightly, “I think…I’ve fallen in love all over again. No offense, Kyoka”

Kyoka hums in agreement, “I think you might have some competition as my favorite boy, babe.”

He chuckles, a nervous but greatly amused laugh on his lips. He turns to press a kiss to Momo’s cheek. She knows it’s mostly friendly, just affectionate enough to make her smile against it, “Thank you. For giving us this chance, Momo.”

“Thank you both. For everything.” She takes a shuddering breath, watching their future breathe as he naps. They squeeze a little closer as she dares not move to wipe away the rogue tears that dare to escape and roll down her cheeks. It clicks into place, in that little room on the far side of the hospital that she’ll do anything for this beautiful baby boy. The glint of her wedding ring against the light, gold and silver bands on top of one another. Her family, her Denki, her Kyoka, and now her Seiji.

She’d be here for him, with a tissue if he cries and a hug when he needed it. Denki would surely be able to make him laugh, comfort him when things went wrong. Kyoka with nothing short of giving him the confidence to do whatever he ever desired. Momo could already see it, and it fills her with so much warmth she thinks it might explode out her chest.

“Welcome to the family, little man.” Denki says, raising a hand to gently cradle his head, “We’re so happy to meet you.”

[mrsbrekkers]

Bestie I had an idea can I plz request some Jesper x Reader with the only one bed trope and maybe include dancing in the rain? Imma leave everything else up to you because you have an amazing imagination. Once again no rush! 🤍🤍🤍

BESTIEEEEEEEEE hi :) so, i left out the rain bit bcuz my brain went; part two? i can write part two muhhahahahAHHAHA. but yes here's one bed trope tehe

pairings! jesper x reader / kaz x inej, nina x matthias + wylan being the bad bittie he is and making flash bombs

reader is gender neutral per usual in my jesper fics!

warnings! none? mention of a flash bomb, swearing, sexual t e n s i o n, kaz being a shipper of reader and jesper, kaz also being a simp for inej, jesper being H O T, anyways here it isssssssssss

word count! 2296!

WHAT IS IT ABOUT HOTELS?

“So, we’re going to be staying in hotels? Seriously Kaz?” Inej spoke. She’d been the first to speak after Kaz had announced their newest job. It presented the chance for twenty million kruge, which split among the seven, was about three million each. It involved crashing a merchant’s party and killing a few people, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t done so before. No, what irked the team was the necessity to stay in hotels.

“Wouldn’t that leave a trail behind, Kaz? You know, the way to find who did what we’re planning on doing?” Jesper asked, raising a brow. but Kaz simply shook his head. The Crows should’ve known that Kaz had his weird, out of the box ways to cover up his trail. Especially when it involved murder. Sure, people could suspect the Dregs, but they could never pin-point anything big that they were involved in unless Kaz let it be known.

“It won’t. I paid under a different alias. A dead one, but it works all the same,” Kaz responded, looking over at Jesper, who simply laid back into his seat and nodded in understanding.

“What will be the rooming arrangements?” Wylan asked. His eyes were set on the flash bomb he was working on. One to help blind everyone at the party before the killing was done.

“Nina and Matthias will room together. Inej, Wylan, and I will all have our own rooms, and Y/N and Jesper will share a bedroom,” Kaz responded, making Y/N and Jesper slowly turn their heads to look at their boss.

“What?!” They said in unison, making all of the Crows excluding Kaz laugh. Yes, because the suffering of two friends is so funny! Y/N’s eyes didn’t leave Kaz, who shrugged.

“I need my own room, Inej needs her own room, Wylan also does, he’s working on a bomb after all. Nina and Matthias were a given, so that leaves you two, and I wasn’t paying any more than I had on the rooms,” Kaz reasoned, but he did have underlying reasons. Inej and him had a bet on whether the two would get together or not, and for once, he was putting effort into winning a bet. Which explained Inej and her glare thrown his way.

“You can’t switch Inej and Jesper around? Inej and I are good friends! I’m sure she’d love to share a room with me,” Y/N said, looking at Inej, who nodded.

“The issue is not the room itself, but the amount of beds,” Kaz said, smirking just slightly, one that Jesper nor Y/N caught onto since they both looked at one another, realization rushing over their faces.

“There’s only one bed?!” They both said in unison once more, making the Crows all laugh once more, even louder this time though.

“Yep, it was cheaper, and I want to make as much profit as I can from this,” Kaz said, his eyes lifting from the drawing he was now working on with Wylan, who’d set the bomb aside for the time being. His eyes had that look in it. No room for discussion.

Y/N and Jesper sighed, their heads falling to the table.

Inej looked over at Kaz then, her eyes narrowing. “You set this up. Unfair, you’re cheating in the bet,” she accused. Kaz said nothing though, simply going back to the drawing that he’d been doing with Wylan, nodding as Wylan spoke.

“This is bullcrap,” Inej murmured, rolling her eyes as she looked at Jesper and Y/N, who now bickered over who would get the bed and who would lay on the ground.

“No, that isn’t fair Y/N and you know that. You don’t get to claim the bed because you're Kaz’s favorite! One, that’s a lie, Inej is. Two, I have to have a bed! It is that simple!” Jesper argued back, but Y/N shook their head.

“No, no, no! It isn’t that simple! I won’t miss out on a hotel bed because you so desperately need a bed, Jesper Fahey, that isn’t fair!”

And Inej let her head fall to the table, a huff being heard from her. Children.

The day came then. The day for the Crows to arrive at the hotels, and before Kaz could even fully check them in Y/N and Jesper were running down the hall, full sprint. They both stopped at their door, Jesper trying to open it despite needing the key card - which a smirking Kaz had down the steps.

“You imbecile, it needs the key card, which conveniently you forgot downstairs! Cheater!” Y/N yelled. The Crows walked up the steps soon after, seeing the two doubled over, catching their breath. Nina couldn’t help but laugh, walking into the room her and Matthias were assigned. Inej was the next into her room, Wylan across from her. Finally, Kaz arrived in front of the two.

“I didn’t cheat! You started running before Kaz-” Jesper pointed at their boss, who stood with a roll of his eyes. “-finished checking in, and I wasn’t going to give you that head start. Who’s the cheater now, huh?!” The bickering had been quite the site for the past few days. Most of the other Crows found it amusing, especially Nina. The bed hadn’t been brought up since the day Kaz announced sleeping arrangements, so to remedy the problem? The two put their bickering into everything else.

“I’m going to have to buy earplugs from downstairs,” Kaz murmured. He was half sure he’d lose his mind with these two.

“Tell him I get the bed!” Y/N pointed at Jesper now, looking at their boss.

“Tell them I get the bed!” Jesper retaliated his pointed finger shifting to Y/N.

Looking between the two, Kaz had to compose himself to refrain from laughing. He’d really done this. He’d caused this and he wasn’t half mad about it. “Here,” was all he said before dropping the key card between the two, watching both of them scramble to grab it. If only the other Crows were here to see this. He then walked to his room across the way. Of course the room was right next to Inej’s.

Y/N managed to get their hand on the keycard first, standing and opening the door before running towards the bed, hopping onto it. Feeling the comfort as they landed, they smirked. “I win-” but Jesper had also jumped onto the bed, now on top of Y/N, cutting the latter off as they were suffocated.

“Jesper!” Y/N squirmed underneath him, pushing the taller boy off of them. Jesper simply chuckled, rolling over to now lay next to Y/N, glancing over at them as he laid there. He smiled, seeing how they’re chest rose up and down, hair a mess. Their breathing was irregular, but it reminded him of the run up the stairs, full of pushing, laughing. Even if they bickered, Jesper couldn’t help but admire everything about Y/N. How their lips were so perfect. Their skin looked soft to the touch, being lit by the setting sun outside. They glew in the light. They lit up the room they were in. Because even if the sun disappeared, there’d be them. They were the sun. His sun.

Y/N turned their head, seeing Jesper staring at them. “Jes?” They whispered. They watched Jesper shake himself from the trance he’d been in, sitting up and running a hand down his face. They followed him, sitting now.

“Nothing,” Jesper said, standing and walking into the bathroom, leaving a confused Y/N. Humming a bit, Y/N stood and grabbed the keycard and wrote a small note that they were going to Inej’s room. Walking out of the room and knocking on her door, Y/N bobbed back and forth on their heels.

Confusion laced their features, unsure what Jesper had been thinking. Y/N normally was a phenomenal reader of emotions, but it appeared they’d overestimated said ability. Jesper had been staring, but it wasn’t like they had a problem with it. They had stared longingly across the room at one another dozens of times - not that they considered it longingly, more in a friendly manner. Even if it definitely wasn’t in such a way.

Inej opened the door, smiling as she saw her friend. She stepped to the side, letting Y/N in. “What brings you here?” Does Jesper like me? Was the first thought that came to mind to ask Inej. Weird question to ask, but Jesper tended to tell Inej a lot. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had told her. Even then, Inej was the most observant person Y/N knew.

Y/N sat on the bed, glancing around the hotel room, trying to find something to focus on. The two talked for a good hour, playing whatever games they could think of to pass the time. “You know you can stay here if you’d like. Even with the one bed,” Inej offered, smiling a bit. Over the course of a few years, the two had become close. They told one another everything.

“No, no, it’s alright. I saw the double bed in Kaz’s room though. He didn’t get the room just for himself,” Y/N said, glancing up at Inej. A way to be near one another without having to cross boundaries both may not be ready for. A way to watch over one another. Y/N thought of Jesper then. How they looked over one another without meaning too. Whether it be on jobs, or in general around the Barrel; they looked after one another.

Inej kicked Y/N in the shin, raising a brow. “When are you and Jesper going to admit those little feelings for yours?” She asked, making Y/N’s head shoot up.

“I don’t have feelings for Jesper-”

“Denial,” Inej said, crossing her arms. Maybe it was denial. Maybe that’s why Y/N had been so apprehensive to share a room with him. Much more, only one bed. Because they feared their feelings would ultimately be revealed.

“I did not come in here to be told I’m in denial about my feelings, Inej. I was going to offer up potentially going down to the pool, having some time off before this giant heist we’re going to try and pull off, butttttttt not anymore,” Y/N said, standing. A smile was still on their lips though, a small laugh being heard as they walked towards the door.

“I know that offer is still up!” Inej called as Y/N left the room, heading back towards their shared room, they entered, seeing a now showered Jesper. They stopped dead in their tracks, eyes scanning Jesper. He was shirtless, a towel wrapped around his torso. It was a sight to see, and Y/N was receiving a front seated view.

“I-um…” Y/N spoke quietly, tilting their head, trying to take this all in. Jesper’s head lifted upon hearing the small words from the door, seeing his roommate for the night.

“Your note said you were going to spend time with Inej, I expected you to be there longer,” Jesper chuckled, leaning down and grabbing a shirt and pants for the night, but upon heading towards the bathroom, Y/N stopped him, hand on his chest. His eyes shifted down to their hand, then lifted to lock on their lips.

“You wanna come down to the pool?” Their voice was quiet, their own eyes on Jesper’s lips as well. Jesper said nothing, his hand moving to Y/N’s hand on his chest and pulling them to him, his lips connecting with theirs. While Y/N had been gone, Jesper had time to think of his feelings. His apprehensiveness to the one bed. The shared room. It was all because of fear. Fear his feelings would be revealed, but after what Nina had told him days before - “Y/N looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world Jesper.” - He knew he could finally take this step.

Y/N’s eyes shut immediately, fingers moving through Jesper’s wet hair as they were pulled back towards the one bed. The kiss was demanding, needy. Like neither of them had kissed someone in years. Centuries, even. Desire coursed through the two of them. That intimate desire to be close. “Screw the pool,” Y/N murmured, giggling a bit as the two of them fell back onto the bed.

“Screw the pool indeed,” Jesper agreed, his hands finding Y/N’s waist, holding his hands there as they fell back. His lips reconnected with theirs, preparing to flip the two, Jesper wrapped his arm fully around Y/N’s waist, but the knock on the door stopped them.

“Inej,” Y/N murmured, pulling away and walking to the door, opening it and seeing the other Crows there.

“We’re waiting on you!” Nina exclaimed, excited to relax for the night, even if it was just for a few hours. They all needed it. Y/N nodded, entering the room once more with a scoff. So much for screwing the damn pool. There was someone else they wanted to screw though. Clearing their throat, they grabbed their swim stuff, looking down at Jesper who was still on the bed, clearly upset.

“Come on, we can make them pay for that later,” Y/N offered, raising a brow. Jesper rolled his eyes, but nodded in agreement, taking Y/N’s hand as they extended it. When they arrived at the pool, the other’s had already begun their fun, Kaz sitting in one of the chairs, drawings of the heist in front of him, glasses on as if he was watching over his children. His crow children. Inej being the only exception.

[triptuckers]

Two Homes (part 2/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: nope Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader  Summary:  after receiving an invitation to a ball in os alta, you have no intention of attending. however your father has other plans Warnings: none Word count:  1.6K A/N: part two of the mini nikolai series! enjoy reading :) PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting @im-constantly-fangirling @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha add yourself to my tag lists here 

You wake up to the sound of your father pounding on the door. You don’t even have to get up to check if you’re right, the servants would never knock so loudly. Especially not this early in the morning. Did you forget something? An important date? Was today a birthday or anniversary?

While you’re still wondering if you’ve missed something, your father barges through the door, completely ignoring your privacy. He’s beaming at you, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him this pleased about anything.

He doesn’t even wait for you to acknowledge him. Instead, he pulls out an envelope similar to the one you received yesterday night. You look at the double eagle seal on the back of it, and force yourself not to roll your eyes.

‘We’re going to Os Alta!’ announces your father. ‘You have been personally invited by King Nikolai to attend a ball!’

‘I’m not going.’ you say as you lay back down. ‘I got a letter yesterday, and I already made your choice.’

‘Nonsense!’ he says. ‘This is too good an opportunity to miss. Now get up, we leave within the hour.’

Just as you open your mind to protest, three servants enter your room, carrying an elaborate new dress. Before you can say anything else, your father has left the room and the servants start to dress you and do your hair. 

Barely half an hour after you were rudely woken up by your father, you are out the door and on your way to Ravka.

You’re silent as you follow your father on his way to the docks. You had tried to convince the servants to let you wear a pair of pants instead of your heavy dress, but they told you your father wanted you to look your best when you left for Ravka. 

So now you’re trying not to trip on your dress as you miserably follow your father. Maybe you could jump off the ship and swim back to Ketterdam. But you fear your heavy dress might sink you to the bottom of the sea before you could make it back. 

As you get closer to the docks, you see two other merchant’s daughters who had received an invitation as well, and are happily chatting away. They seem very happy about it, which only causes you to get more annoyed. To top it all off, they don’t even spare you a glance as they walk past you.

When you get to the docks, you see a small crows has assembled to see you off. News travelled fast in Ketterdam, especially the news of three merchant daughters who were invited by the king of Ravka. You wished the docks were empty. All this attention was not something you wanted. 

You look at the crowd as you board the ship. Among them, you spot a few of the crows. They wink at you and all have smug looks on their faces. Apparently, they thought you changed your mind.

But you shrug and lightly shake your head after pointing at your father, indicating you didn’t have a choice. You wave at them as the ship sails away. Unlike the others who are looking out at sea, you keep looking at Ketterdam until it disappears from the horizon. You barely left, and you couldn’t wait to go back already.

The trip to Ravka takes a couple of days, and when you finally get off the ship, you travel for another few days by carriage before you finally make it to Os Alta. The others are looking out the window of the carriage, pointing at everything they see. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to get excited or curious. Os Alta looked like any city in your eyes. All you wanted to do, was to go home to Ketterdam. The last thing you needed was to attend a ball. It all seemed so ridiculous. A waste of time and money.

But when you’re dreading something, time seems to go faster, instead of slowing down. The day of the ball creeps closer and way too soon, servants enter the room you’re staying in to help you get dressed.

All day long, you had been thinking of ways you could get out of the ball. You had tried leaving the Palace grounds, but if you wanted to do so, you’d need to be accompanied by a handful of armed guards. You could fight, but not fight off five tall guards with arms. 

Climbing over the fence was not an option either. They were too tall, and you couldn’t find a spot where no one could see you.

Even if you did find a way to sneak out of the grounds, you’d still have to deal with your father. Even though you were far away from Ketterdam, he still followed you around like a shadow. Probably because you had made it very clear you didn’t even want to be there. 

You even tried to pretend to be sick. But your father had called for a healer, who told you that you were in perfect health. You tried to pretend you fell down the stairs and couldn’t possibly dance all night long. But again, your father had called for a healer who confirmed your good health.

So, you had no choice but to attend the ball. No matter how much you dreaded it, there would be no escaping it. 

When you’ve finished dressing, you feel like you might fall over because of the weight of the jewels. Apparently they thought it would be best to look like a shiny insect. Or maybe they just thought the weight of the jewels would prevent you from running away. 

Your hair is put up with more jewels, and they had yet again refused to let you wear pants. Instead, you wear a simple but elegant silk gown. They wanted you to wear heels as well, but you had told them if they wouldn’t let you wear pants, the least they could do is have you pick your own shoes. You were pretty sure if you had to walk on heels all night long, your feet would be numb by the end of the night.

Your father had put on his best suit and is beaming with pride as you make your way to the ball room. He introduces you to anyone he walks into, keeping a firm grip on your hand on his arm, so you couldn’t slip away. Your cheeks already hurt from smiling so much. 

You were told at the beginning of the ball, everyone would be introduced to the king, and the ball would start. Everyone else was excited to meet him, but you couldn’t care less. Your father had done his best at controlling you his entire life. And now, if he had it his way again, he’d marry you off to some royal you had never met.

Sure, you heard the stories. According to them, Nikolai was a war hero, charming, handsome. The boy king loved by his people. You didn’t care for stories. You wanted to go home, back to Ketterdam. Have a drink with the Crows, laugh at their jokes, play cards. 

No matter how much you loathe the palace, your jaw still drops when you enter the massive ball room. It’s elaborately decorated and you have to admit, it’s gorgeous. You didn’t see a lot of this in Ketterdam. Still, you’d rather be in the Crow Club where the floor always seems to be sticky. And you keep looking around you, still trying to find a way out.

You’re waiting for everyone else to arrive and soon, the people around you start to move as everyone starts to introduce themselves to the king. And that’s when you see it. A door to a balcony, slightly open. You take a look at the people around you. 

All of their eyes seem fixed on the king, your father as well. He’s got a weird sort of smile on his face as he looks at the king in the distance. It’s like he totally forgot you were there. It’s now or never. You hang back a little and slip between the people, making for the balcony door.

You open it and quietly slip onto the balcony. The cool air outside feels more welcoming than anything else you’ve encountered on your trip to the palace. It’s not a big balcony, and you’re still visible from inside the ball room.

But the ground is not that far, you notice as you look over the edge of the balcony. You’ve once jumped from a windowsill about the same height as the balcony, when you were on a job with Jesper. You take another look over your shoulder. Your father hadn’t even noticed your absence. 

You take a deep breath and swing your legs over the balcony. Another deep breath, and you take the leap.

You had been right, it wasn’t that far. Still, you land rather clumsily. You’re not used to wearing silk dresses, and curse softly as you try to get up without tripping on it. Once you’re standing, you look up at the balcony, then ahead. In the distance, you see the palace gardens. They look beautiful in the dim light of the setting sun.

Smiling to yourself, you start walking towards them. 

Meanwhile up in the ballroom, your father had reached the king. He’s hopelessly looking around him. All eyes are on him.

‘I swear she was right here, she must have slipped away. She was right here, I’m telling you!’ he says.

Most of the guests are sending him disapproving looks, but king Nikolai is the only one who looks amused.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[harryhandstan]

so..I hate that this is so late but happy to finally have this done and be posting it for y’all! hope you enjoy! thank you to my betas @tbslenthusiast, @serendipitystyles, and @summertimestyles​ you’re all angels!! also sham was so kind to help me create a playlist for this fic which you can find here!

this is for @taintedwonder​‘s Styles Valentine’s Day fic challenge and most of the photos from the header were my inspo along with prompts 3. Can you just hold my hand? and 6. Let’s run away together.

as always any likes, rbs, replies, and feedback is welcome and very much appreciated!

word count: 4.1k

writing tag | masterlist

You can read his face before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“You have to leave again, don’t you?”

He doesn’t answer at first, just joins you where you sit on the bed, an arm around your waist to urge you closer to him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, as if that will soothe the sting of what he’s about to say. He buries his face into your neck before he speaks.

“Only for a little while, angel.”

You don’t respond by returning the kiss like you normally would, narrowing your eyes down to where he’s hiding his face, “How long is a ‘little while’?” 

“You could always come with me, y’know..” 

He’s avoiding the answer and he knows it, eyes darting up only briefly to look at your face. 

“How long, Harry?”

He’s fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt now, focusing on the loose thread hanging instead.

You nudge him lightly, pulling his attention back up to you, “Just say it! How long?”

He sucks in a big breath before releasing it and then the words come out in a rush, “A few weeks, possibly a month.”

You have to take your own deep breath before asking, “When do you have to leave?”

“Promise you won’t be mad?”

“Promise.”

“My flight’s on the 14th.”

“February 14th? As in we don’t get to spend Valentine’s Day together?”

“M’so sorry, love, I really thought we were gonna get to spend the day together.” 

He’s pulled back from where he was hiding his face, studying yours now. It hurts him to see the disappointment written there; the pinch in your brow, the downturned corners of your mouth, the way your eyes have temporarily lost their shine and fallen misty.

“Ya really could come with me, y’know. Take a bit of time off, would do you some good to take a break.”

He knows better, knows it’s just a fantasy that you would ever be able to get that much time off from work to be able to travel with him.

“C’mon, love, let’s run away together.”

The way he’s looking at you know, it really wouldn’t take much more convincing to turn his fantasy into a reality.

“What am I gonna do when I’m cold and don’t have you as my personal heater to help me get warm?”

“S’why I left you my pillow to snuggle with. There’s a ton of extra blankets too, use as many of those as ya need.”

How could you explain that no amount of warmth from any blanket would ever compare to his? A blanket wasn’t capable of softly brushing your hair back from your face or tenderly pressing it’s lips to yours as you drift off to sleep. You open your mouth to try to illustrate such facts, but you close your mouth just as quick. You aren’t trying to be difficult or clingy, and you don’t want your last bit of time together to be filled with your complaints.

That thought only lasts for a moment, your anxiety building with each mile closer to the airport, “Well what do I do when your pillow doesn’t smell like you anymore?”

“I’ll try to be back before that happens, deal? Besides, you’ve got a whole drawer of my t-shirts to sleep in too. They all smell like me, right?”

“They do, but, Harry..what if..”

“Shh, hey, we’ve been through this before, right? S’gonna be hard for me to be away from you too, but I promise we’ll be alright. You can call me anytime you’re missin’ me, remember?”

His voice is that of someone trying to pacify a small child just before a tantrum, and you feel as though you’re being whiny and unreasonable. Missing him when he was away was almost unbearable though; everything seemed heavy and dimmer and you know it would feel like an eternity before you were together again. 

“Promise we’ll make up today the second I come home. You plan the whole day and just tell me when and where to show up, okay?’

The fact that it was Valentine’s Day didn’t matter so much to you. You and Harry made it a point throughout your days spent together to express your love to one another whenever you could, so today was really just..another day to spend together. So it’s missing him that has tears forming in your eyes again, just as they had the night before.

“Can you just hold my hand? Until..” You don’t finish the sentence, letting your voice trail off so he won’t hear it break.

“‘Course I can, baby.” He offers his hand, never taking his eyes off the road even as he lifts your hand to his mouth to place a kiss to the back of it.

Though you know he would never admit to it, you swear you feel the speed of the car slow just the tiniest bit, Harry wanting to add as much to your limited time together as he can.

Despite it still being light outside, coming home to the space you normally share together alone makes you want to do nothing but crawl right back in bed. It’s mid-afternoon and with Harry not home to motivate you to do something more productive, that’s exactly what you aim to do.

After dropping your purse and keys near the door and double checking the locks, you’re startled by the sight of a bouquet of bright pink roses adorning your dining room table. They definitely weren’t there when you left, and you pluck the small card nestled between the flowers with your name scrawled across the front. It’s Harry’s almost illegible handwriting and the sight of it makes your heart soar with excitement before you flip it open to read the message. 

It’s simple and small, more of his writing scratched across the cream colored paper in bold, black ink. Love, love, love, H. There’s a badly drawn heart underneath the note, and that makes you giggle out loud, filling the silence. If Harry were here, he’d have some cheeky comment about how adorable your laughter is, how he loved the sound of it.

“Don’t want you moping around the whole time m’gone, yeah? Promise me y’ll do more than just sulk around the place until I get back?” This reminder was given just before he’d had to rush off to catch his plane, giving you no time to offer him much more than a quick peck and a sad smile as an agreement. 

So technically what you plan to do would not be considered breaking a promise, just..catching up on the sleep you would’ve gotten if you hadn't had to wake up so early to ride with Harry to the airport. Normally that was something you would decline to do, preferring to sleep in, which Harry usually was fine with; but this time he had insisted on you accompanying him on his drive, wanting to get as much time with you on this day as he could. 

Just as you're about to venture down the hallway to the bedroom, you spot another item you’re sure hadn’t been on your coffee table earlier that morning when you’d left. It’s a medium sized box, messily wrapped with red paper and tied with purple ribbon and a bow. It’s quite heavy when you lift it, so you sit on the nearby couch to avoid dropping it. You waste no time tearing the paper away, lifting the lid to reveal a candle surrounded by tissue paper. 

There’s a pack of two lighters wedged next to the candle, and you curiously pull it from the box first to see more of Harry’s handwriting on a red sticky note. 

Baby you light up my world like nobody else...

That pulls another laugh from you, this one is bigger and echoes through the dimly lit space. The candle itself is a scent he knows you love, and you bring it closer to your face and inhale deeply. The smell of it helps ease even more of the unease and sadness of him being gone. You dig your phone out of your pocket to check the time and try to calculate whether his plane has landed and he would be able to answer a call from you. 

You ultimately decide to nap first and give him a chance to get settled. He would most likely be calling you later anyway, missing you just as much as you missed him and wanting to hear your voice. You could thank him then for the flowers, candle, and the laugh. So you continue your journey to the bedroom, slipping out of your clothes and sliding open the drawer of Harry’s t-shirts. He’s right, they do all smell like him and you run your fingers along the soft fabrics before selecting one. 

It’s plain white, one of his undershirts normally tucked beneath his expensive button ups and ruffles, but today it’s perfect and comforting attire to doze off in. It’s loose and just long enough on you that you don’t feel the need to put on a pair of your pj shorts with it, The bed is still messy from the morning, and you swear you can still see the outline of where Harry’s body normally tucks next to you on his side. You pull the blanket back and crawl into your usual spot, but it doesn’t feel right; it’s too empty and quiet without Harry. 

You grab his pillow from his side and try your best to replicate the way you would curl yourself around him if he was here. It takes a bit of time to adjust, but eventually you give up and just try to relax into the mattress as much as possible, covering your head slightly with the blanket to surround yourself with warmth.

You peek through the space uncovered to the alarm clock on the bedside table on Harry’s side, the bright red letters read 12:32 p.m. and you let out a deep sigh before drifting off to sleep. If you weren’t so tired, the thought that crosses your mind might just make you laugh again.

Alone in bed in the afternoon on Valentine’s Day. What a shame. 

You wake with a start, bolting upwards at the sound of your phone ringing loudly from somewhere near the bed. You don’t even bother to open your eyes to see who it is, just following the motions to answer and plop back down onto your spot as you let out an almost breathless and groggy “hello?”

“Not missin’ me too much, I see, took you a whole minute to answer,'' You know he’s joking by the hint of amusement in his voice and relief floods through your chest before any other feeling at the idea of him making it safely to his destination, “You alright, love? Sound a bit outta breath. Having some fun in our bed without me?”

“I..no, I was napping, promise, your call just scared me awake..how did you know I’m in bed?”

“I’m only teasing. Just a guess, figured you’d find your way back to the bed not long after you got home.”

“Found the flowers and the candle. Your note on the lighters made me laugh, thank you. How’d you do that though? They weren’t there when we left for the airport and you didn’t come back in.”

“Had one of my assistants drop the flowers off, and the candle’s been stashed in the closet for a week so she set it out for me while she was there. Wish I could’ve been there to see your face and hear that laugh,” He giggles at the thought of it, “S’that all you found? The flowers and the candle? I assume you found the one in the bathroom too, right?”

You’re more alert now, sitting up again to try to process what he’s saying more easily, “What do you mean? There’s more? The bathroom?”

“A few more, yeah. Hid here and there for you to find.”

“You left me a scavenger hunt? Do I at least get clues to help me find them all?”

“I’ve just given you one, haven’t I? Might be persuaded to give you a few more later.”

You’re up off the bed now, making your way to the bathroom where another surprise awaits. You hesitate for only a moment, stopping just as you reach the door.

“What’s in the bathroom? More flowers? One of those big, fluffy teddy bears?”

“M’not gonna tell you! You gotta go in to find out!”

Flipping on the light switch has you gasping at what you see. A heart, entirely made from more red sticky notes, each one embellished with reminders of his love for you. You stumble over words, trying to form a coherent response.

He senses your shock even through the phone and graciously gives you a moment before asking, “S’the heart all wonky or does it look nice? Told them to make it as straight as possible.”

“H..it’s beautiful! How did you have time to write all these before you left?”

“Finished up most of them last night after you fell asleep. They came to me a lot easier with my muse snoring next to me.” 

You truly don’t know what to say to that. You’ve never had someone be so bright and loud with their love for you and just this simple expression makes you feel so incredibly special and loved.

You know that emotion is flowing through the phone when he speaks again, softer and lower, “Y’sure you won’t let me fly you out here to be with me?”

There’s the sound of another voice before Harry barks out another laugh, “Jeff says m’proper miserable without you. He said he’d pay you whatever your salary would be for the next month just to have you here.”

“Tempting, but..” Harry knows how much you love your job and how such a long absence would jeopardize the career you’ve built, so you know he probably won’t mention it again.

“Technically it was gonna be part of my present for you, so..I’ll give you another clue.”

“How very generous of you, H. Will this one make me cry too?”

“Maybe. Knowing you, probably,” You roll your eyes but listen for further instructions, “Just remember I had to rush and there’s still a few I didn’t get to add but, go get your laptop.”

“What’d you do to my laptop?”

“Would ya just go get it? C’mon I’ve gotta hang up soon and I wanna hear your reaction before I hafta go.” 

“Alright, I got it. What now?”

“Go to your music library.” He gives you a moment to navigate through your programs, “Should be a playlist there with your name on it, lovie. Wait, are you already crying?”

“Shut up! Yes!” You wipe at your eyes with the hem of his t-shirt you’re still wearing as you try to read over the list of songs, “This is so sweet! The flowers, the candle, the heart and now this. Harry..I didn’t get you anything and you did all this for me. Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you more,” You can just picture the smug smile on his face, pleased that he’s done a good job of surprising you, “You can make it up to me later.” 

“Don’t push your luck there, H. You’ve just been forgiven, I still have time to change my mind, you know.” 

“I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” You hear what you assume to be Jeff’s voice again in the background, “I gotta go, babe. I’ll try to call again later, alright?”

“Wait! I don’t get any more clues? Can you at least tell me how many more are left?”

“S’no fun for me if I give away all my secrets now, is it?”

It’s only a day later when you find yourself in the kitchen, uncertain about what to make for dinner, eyes scanning over the ingredients in your pantry. Your laptop sits on the counter nearby, and you hum along to My Girl playing through the speakers, a song selected for you by Harry for the playlist he recently made for you.

You’re about to give up and heat up your leftovers from the Italian take-out you had treated yourself to the night before, when you spot the pack of Haribo gummy bears wedged in the corner. You almost have to stand on your tip-toes to reach it, and when you run your hand along the shelf you find another bag of sweets not far from the gummy bears. You smile down at the two bags, his favorite candy and yours sitting side by side.

There’s another of Harry’s red sticky notes on the pack of gummy bears: Being away from you is unBEARable. More of his cheesy jokes you’re sure he thought of himself. Your candy is void of any words, just another messily drawn heart, this time with your name in the middle. 

You decide to FaceTime him this time, wanting to see his face. It only takes 3 rings for him to answer, a tender “Hi, baby.” falling from his lips. The room he’s in is dimly lit, but you can still see him well enough to notice his hair is damp. His curls are more pronounced than usual, which was a sign he’d been too tired to much more than probably run his fingers through after his shower.

“Found another of your surprises.” You hold the candy up for him to see and he smiles.

“Better save me some of those Haribo, and not just all the colors ya don’t like either.”

You tear open the bag, sticking your tongue out at him before popping a few into your mouth, “I might, if you tell me where all the other surprises are.”

You can see him temporarily consider it, biting his bottom lip and meeting your gaze before he shakes his head, “Nah. I will tell you there’s only one more though..well, depends on how you look at it, but to me they only count as one.”

“They?”

He mimics locking his lips, and you decide to drop it for now, knowing you would most likely have to trick or beg him to tell you later. You’d let him think he won. For now.

You roll the top of the bag of candy down, opening the cabinet to tuck them back into the same corner you found them in. They just didn’t taste the same without him there to enjoy them with you. Plus you still had a still had leftover garlic knots and mushroom ravioli you planned to dig into later.

“S’that the playlist I made for you? Sounds like it.”

The song has changed to At Last, Etta James’ voice filling the small kitchen, “Yeah. I love this song.”

“Me too. Reminds me of you now..my love,” You sway a bit to the music before stopping, leaning forward to where your phone is propped on the counter, “Wish I was there t’dance with you.”

You try your best to hold back your emotions of missing him, but you imagine how he would rest his hands on your hips if was here. How he would spin you to face him and move his hands to rest on your back while he led you around in a slow circle across the floor. It wasn’t just his hands you longed for, it was the way he would bend to your ear to sing along to whatever song you were dancing to, especially one like this he knew you loved. You missed his voice in person, the way it would surround you with a comfort and peace you’d never be able to replicate with anything else. 

No matter what you do you can’t stop your thoughts from trailing to how when the song was over, he would lift you to sit on the counter and kiss your forehead. You’re wearing one of his hoodies tonight, and you pull the sleeve down over your hands to use to try to quickly wipe away any tears before he sees them. Once you feel you’ve reined in your emotions to the best of your abilities, you clear your throat before speaking again.

“I miss you, H.”

“I miss you too, angel.”

The music has changed again, Don’t Worry Baby by The Beach Boys lifting the mood enough you don’t feel so heavy and overwhelming with your yearning for him. You take a deep breath, planning to ask him about his day, but before you have a chance he says, “Go to your bedside table. The top drawer.”

“What?”

“M’tryin’ to tell you where your last surprise is. Go to our bedroom and look in the drawer. I’ll wait.”

You flash him a smile before turning to make your way out of the kitchen, through your living room and down the hall to your bedroom. It takes a bit of searching before you uncover a stack of bright, pastel colored envelopes tied together with the same purple ribbon as the candle from the day before. You work quickly to untie the knot and turn the lamp on so you can read the front of each one. There’s 4 total; open when you need a laugh, open when you miss my hugs, open when you need a reminder of my love, open when you miss me.

You tear into the final one immediately, setting the others aside for later. It’s not very long, the perfect length to boost your spirit even further. Just the thought of him taking time to sit down and write his expression of love for you makes you grin, and has that same feeling of being loved spreading through you as it did the previous day when you saw the heart on the bathroom mirror.

You had almost forgotten leaving him on hold in the kitchen until you hear, even from 3 rooms away, the sound of him singing along to whatever song is playing now. You close your eyes, picturing for a moment that it’s a typical night when he’s home, darting around the kitchen while he makes dinner or puts dishes away.  

You make your way back through the house to him, envelope in hand. Each one had been a different color so the second he sees which one you have his eyes brighten, his smile growing bigger the closer you get.

“Of course you opened that one first. Did y’like it?”

You shake your head no, breaking into a laugh when you see the look of disappointment on his face, “I loved it. Very charming of you to do all this just for me, H.”

“Yeah? I did a good job surprising you then?”

You roll your eyes. This man and his need for praise was too much, but he was yours, and you were his and you would do anything to assure him that you loved him just as much as he loved you.

“You did an amazing job, really, Harry. I never expected you to be able to do so much so last minute.”

His mouth drops open in mock dismay, looking down and shaking his head, “I can’t believe you would ever doubt me!”

You don’t say anything, just shake your own head at his teasing, sharing a look of adoration before you look away.

“Hey, did I leave my lip balm there? The coconut kind I use before bed? Thought I had it in my duffel but I couldn’t find it when I got here.” 

“Yep. I used it earlier when I got out of the shower. Want me to send it to you?”

“Nah, you don’t have to, but..you could bring it to me in person if you wanted.” 

“I would if I could, Harry.”

The tone of a new text from your phone startles you, and you try to suppress your elation as best you can at who it’s from. It’s Jeff, confirming the time of your flight he’d helped you schedule for the following day. Harry knows you too well, would instantly be able to read your face and be suspicious of what you were up to. You step away from his line of sight to let the thrill run through you, to let it fully wash over you so he wouldn’t see. You return as quickly as you can, brushing it off as if you’d just gotten a text from your boss or a friend. He was oblivious, none the wiser at what you were planning.

It was your turn to surprise him. 

[sjmsstuff]

Light and Dark

Chapter 3

A/N: back at it again, this time with a slightly shorter chapter, I’ve been swamped with work, don’t hate me x. Small bit of angst but like not loads.

Warnings: major warning for sexual abuse if you want to skip it just stop reading at <~> and start when you see it again, just know Gwyn had a nightmare.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6,

Gwyn was entirely sure she was an idiot.

A fool, an imbecile, an utter buffoon.

She could hardly look at Az all morning at training and then she could hardly think of anything but him as she worked in the library.

Nesta came down an hour after they parted at training, looking flushed and happy.

It was astonishing the difference between who she was when she first arrived and the female who stood before her now. Happiness radiated from Nesta when it used to disapate in her presence. Her slender frame was no longer thin and skinny but toned and full. Her eyes looked less weary and the bags had disappeared.

The two friends chatted as Nesta completed her duties for Clotho and Gwyn scampered through the jobs Merril had given her.

Thankfully the cranky priestess was cloistered in her office for the evening, meaning Gwyn could talk without needing to look over her shoulder every few minutes, like a guilty man waiting to be apprehended.

Merril was still researching the idea of multiple worlds layering on top of each other. To be completely honest Gwyn had no idea what she was on about half the time but nodding and scurrying hadn’t failed her yet.

She left Nesta hours later to return to the dreaded office with an assortment of copied and highlighted texts that Merril had requested, each organised and double checked to avoid any scenes.

Though Gwyn had thoroughly enjoyed the first clash of her friend and her superior, she was not especially eager for a rematch. Clotho may be upset if one of the cleverest priestesses could no longer write.

Or breathe.

Merril was sitting with her back to the door when Gwyn entered, so she quietly deposited the books on a small table. Merril waved her off without looking up and Gwyn took that to mean she was dismissed.

Dinner was a dismal affair. She was close with a few of the other girls but shared nothing like the connection she, Nesta, and Emerie lived for. Probably because she hadn’t killed and nearly died for her fellow priestesses.

They were missing out.

Gwyn returned to her dormitory that night, resolutely not thinking about hazel eyes, soft mouths or slender, scarred fingers.

Instead she drifted off to sleep, humming a quiet melody.

<~>

Hands grabbed her waist, her heart. Someone was screaming, it sounded like her sister but she wasn’t sure.

She wasn’t even sure how she could hear anything over the pounding heartbeat in her ears.

How could Gwyn have a heartbeat when she was dead? Maybe she wasn’t dead yet, maybe she was just dying. It would be over soon.

Men laughed around her. Bile crept up her throat.

Her skirts were around her waist.

Cold wood bit into the back of her bare thighs.

Her thighs were forced open. There was a speck of soot on the ceiling.

Someone should probably clean that off.

She thrashed but it was no use when her wrists were locked. They felt trapped in stone.

Stone that smelled of death and stone that dug it’s nails into her wrists, biting like the teeth of a hound.

His sweat dripped down onto her face. It felt too similar to blood. The children’s blood, Catrin’s blood.

He robbed that special occasion from her. She wanted it to be important, it was supposed to be important, that moment in a woman’s life and it was stolen.

He was finished.

More lined up.

She stopped thrashing. She couldn’t move.

Broken.

Another unbuckled his belt.

A slash of red, then glowing blue siphons and-

<~>

Gwyn woke with a gasp.

She was out of bed and tugging on a dressing gown before she could even think about what she was doing.

Out of the dormitories and up into the library. It was quiet, fae lights burned low and sleep hung heavy in the silence.

It was probably hours away from dawn.

Up the stairs and there, a door. She swung it open and Nesta stood before her.

“Gwyn? What are you-“ Nesta looked concerned, Gwyn probably looked a state.

Cassian stood behind his mate, blade in hand, scanning the hall.

Nesta reached for her but she jerked out of reach, she needed-

“Gwyn?”

A smooth, deep voice. She almost collapsed in relief.

Instead she turned towards the warrior standing at the foot of the stairs.

Gwyn fell against his chest before she realised she had moved. Strong hand wrapped around her, then quickly withdrew. Soft shadows encased her instead. Singing soft words of comfort and they soothed her.

Azriels chest rumbled as he spoke to Nesta and Cassian. Then he attempted to guide her up the stairs but she clung to him.

He was the only solid thing in the raging sea and she wasn’t going to let go of her lifeline.

Instead Azriels strong arms wrapped around her legs and waist and she was softly carried into a room that smelled like home. ***

Gwyn woke hours later as dawn filtered through large windows that covered one wall. She was curled in an armchair, a softly moving pillow rising and falling beneath her head.

A pillow that smelled a lot like Azriel.

She shifted slightly in his lap to look up at his sleeping face. Dark eyelashes that shadowed high cheekbones, fluttered slightly. Gwyn shifted some more, readying to get up, but strong arms wrapped around her, tucking her in close, burying his head in her hair.

She sat there, comfortable in Azriels arms for minutes or hours until the sun rose fully, bringing with it the realisation of where she was, and what had brought her to this comforting embrace.

Embarrassment shifted her weight again, waking Azriel fully. His arms loosened, hazel eyes filling with concern, no doubt from the memories of the night before.

Gwyn rose fully, “Thank- Thank you for that,” she gestured vaguely to the chair they had been tucked in on, “But it really wasn’t necessary for you to sleep with me in your arms, your neck probably hurts and you would’ve been more comfortable in your own bed, not that I’d want to be in your bed,” Gods what was she saying? “It’s just that you probably would’ve been-“

“Gwyn.” Az still lay prone in the armchair, wearing loose bottoms and a thin sleeping shirt. Gods he was pretty in the early sunlight.

“Ye- Yes?”

“It’s alright,” He smiled softly, “I’ve slept in worse conditions and you didn’t really want me to let you go.”

Mother, could she get any more red?

“And, well,” he coughed slightly, “it didn’t really seem proper to bring you to my bed.”

Yep, she definitely could get more red.

“Oh, well, em, thank- thank you, again” she was making it worse.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No. Yes? No, she wasn’t ready to relive that experience before breakfast. She had only told two people what happened. Nesta and Emerie. Azriel knew because he was there but she wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“No, I’m fine.”

His expression was unreadable, but he rose, “Come, let’s eat breakfast. Cass and Nesta might join us, if they can separate for long enough.” ***

Nesta and her mate were indeed sitting next to each other at the table when Gwyn entered.

Nesta smiled kindly at her and Cassian winked in greeting before returning to the conversation with his mate. Gwyn took in the easy nature with which they chatted, Nesta occasionally leaning back to laugh at something Cassian said, the way Cassian’s eyes seemed to flare with pride every time.

She glanced over at Azriel who sat across the table from her and realised he had been watching her.

She resisted the temptation to look down, instead keeping his gaze and smiling back when he smirked at her.

Gwyn realised belatedly that Nesta had said something to her.

“What?”

Her friend’s eyes flickered between Gwyn and Azriel, “I said ‘you and I need to get Emerie and go to Velaris’. Rhys kindly agreed to winnow us and he’ll be here in about an hour.”

Gwyn’s brows furrowed, “Why are we going to Velaris?”

Gwyn had been to the city of starlight only a few times, but enjoyed each excursion immensely.

Nesta smirked, “We’re going dress shopping for Starfall.”

Chapter 4

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list for this fic or my writing in general

Tag list: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @princessofmerchants @princessofmerchants-reads @azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @illyrian-valkyrie @lovelywordsandwine @thron3ofbooks @velaaaris @gwynkyrie @acourtofmidnightsnacks @simpforfictionalmenandwomen @bittermuire @mirubyai @velvetrays

[drabbles-mc]

Unfinished Business

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, sex, oral sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I haven’t written smut in so long, but I’ve read so many good fics in the fandom that it inspired me to give it another shot. So, enjoy some dominant, angry Angel Reyes 🤤

It had been well over a week since you had spent any real quality time with Angel. You understood why he was busy—between the club and his family he hadn’t had more than a few spare minutes here and there to text you, or stop in quickly on his way home to say goodnight before taking off again. You weren’t mad about it, but you weren’t happy about it either.

But things were finally starting to calm back down for him. And yet, he had yet to reach out and ask to come over, or ask you to come and see him. You were patient and understanding but you were also needy. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew that everyone was going to be at the clubhouse tonight, a miniature celebration of making it through a stressful couple of weeks, and you were going to make a guest appearance.

You leafed through your closet, deciding on a low-cut black tank top and a tight dark green mini-skirt. Angel loved it because it matched his bike, and you liked it because Angel’s pupils would double in size every time he saw you wear it. You slipped on a pair of black Converse and set off to do your hair and makeup.

You rolled into the scrapyard before the guys were back, which was exactly what you were hoping for. You parked your car, grabbed your purse, and made your way over to the clubhouse. It was sunny and silent, a very different vibe than what it was going to be in a couple hours when everyone was back home and ready to decompress.

Chucky was the only one to be seen when you strode in. He smiled and waved to you, “Hey, Y/N. No one is back yet.”

You smiled, nodding, “I know. I just got here early to take care of a few things. Plus, I can help you set up! What do you need me to do?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I can’t ask you to do that. Angel would—”

“Angel isn’t here, is he?” you cut him off with a smile, “So, how can I help you, Chucky?”

He shifted on his feet, trying to figure out how to navigate these waters, “I need to go and get a liquor delivery. Can you stay here and keep an eye on the clubhouse for me? I should be back in less than an hour.”

You nodded, “You got it. Go do what you gotta do, Chucky.”

He gave a single nod, “You are the real Angel.”

You laughed to yourself as you watched him walk out of the clubhouse. You loved all of the guys, of course, but there was something so enjoyable about every exchange you had with Chucky. You never wanted to see him leave.

You took advantage of Chucky’s absence to set your plan in motion. You slipped off to the bathroom. It was tight quarters, which was the thing you hated most about the clubhouse, but you could make it work. You locked the door and set your phone up to record yourself. You set the phone on the one shelf in the bathroom that held a couple extra rolls of toilet paper, and then perched yourself up on the sink counter, feet resting on the closed toilet lid, making sure the camera got just enough of an upward angle to see clearly up your skirt. You dug around in your purse for a moment, smiling evilly to yourself as your fingers landed on your small bullet vibrator. You tossed your purse to the floor and hit the self-timer on your phone to start recording.

The bathroom and clubhouse were both silent. You smirked into the camera before making a show of slowly hiking up your skirt, exposing the small piece of pink fabric that was passing for your underwear. You turned on the vibrator, the sound seeming so loud against the silence of the small room that you were in.

You lowered it, lightly tracing it over the outside of your panties, gasping at the initial contact. Your body instinctively moved to grind against the vibrator, letting out a low moan. You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out for very long—you hadn’t been touched by Angel or yourself in ten days and your body was screaming for a little bit of release.

You turned the intensity up on the vibrator, letting out a raspy, “Fuck,” as your body began to tremble. Your panties darkened and dampened from your arousal, and it was taking every last bit of self-control to not let yourself come right then. You bit down hard on your lip, “Mmm,” you threw your head back, “fuck, Angel, I miss you.”

It had only been a couple minutes but you knew you were going to have to tap out. You looked straight into the camera as you pulled your panties to the side, “Too bad I’ll have to cum without you,” you slid the vibrator inside of you and moaned loudly.

What started off as a tease for Angel vey quickly turned into some overdue relief for yourself. Between the feeling of you pumped the vibrator in and out, and the vibrations themselves, it was only a matter of moments before your eyes were rolling back in anticipation of your orgasm. You fought the urge to scream as your core tightened, legs locking up as your body finally got a sweet sense of release. You felt light-headed as you turned the vibrator off, trying to catch your breath as you slowly pulled it out of you.

You looked back into the camera, repositioning your underwear and sliding the vibrator in and out of your mouth, tasting yourself. You leaned forward with a satisfied smirk, “I’ll see you soon, Amor,” stopping the video.

Before watching it and sending it, you wanted to straighten yourself out first. You hopped down, fixing your skirt and checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still okay. You washed off your vibrator, putting it back in your purse with a chuckle. You grabbed your phone and left the bathroom, no one would ever know you were in there.

You took a seat at the bar, and after a quick rewatch of the video to make sure he would be able to hear you, you set about sending a text to Angel. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, “Since you haven’t been around to take care of business, I had to do it myself xo” you attached the video and sent it on its way. Your whole body was trembling for more than one reason now as you anxiously awaited an answer.

About five minutes later your phone buzzed, a notification for a text from Angel appeared on your screen. Your hands shook as you opened it, wondering what you were getting yourself into, “Better make sure those panties are off by the time I get home if you want me to fucking take care of business”

You let out a shudder, but didn’t respond to him. It’d be more fun this way. In the meantime, Chucky returned and the two of you got the place set up for everyone’s return. There wasn’t a whole lot to be done, but between the two of them it all got finished rather quickly.

Another hour or so ticked by, and more people had filtered in to be part of the action once everyone was home again. The music was on and people were already drinking, but you were scrolling through your phone when you heard the deafening sounds of the whole club arriving back at the clubhouse. You tossed your phone in your purse, placing the bag behind the bar where it wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle. You stood up, straightening yourself out before the guys all walked in.

Everyone was all smiles as they crossed the threshold of the clubhouse. You greeted all of them with smiles and hugs. You had caught Angel lingering at the back of the pack and you were wondering if that was calculated or not.

You stepped over to him to give him a hug and a kiss, but didn’t even get the chance. He spun you around and began firmly guiding you across the expanse of the clubhouse, “Bathroom, now,” he growled. Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from those two words.

He pushed you into the small room, closing and locking the door behind the both of you. You laughed, “Not even a hello?”

“Yea, you think you’re real fuckin’ funny, don’t you?” he backed you up against the sink counter. He had at least a foot on you, a height gap you usually tried to close with heels. You craned your neck back to look him in the eye. His expression read as angry but you could see the look in his eyes—he had been fighting the urge to take you right in the middle of the clubhouse. His hand crept around your throat and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, “You think I can’t take care of you?”

Your knees were already weak, but you weren’t going to give in that easily, “You certainly haven’t been.”

His grip on your neck tightened, “Better watch that fuckin’ mouth, Y/N, it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you smirked at him, loving every second of this game.

He let go of your neck, using both hands to yank your skirt up and heft you up onto the counter. The speed and ease with which he was able to toss you around never ceased to amaze you, and turn you on. His hands strayed down to your now-exposed hips. His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of your underwear. “What’d I say about these?” he leaned in and growled into your ear.

Before you could respond he ripped them off, tossing them to the side, causing you to gasp. You reached for his belt but he grabbed your wrists, able to hold them both tightly with one hand. He leaned in, taking in your scent as his other hand cupped your face. The feeling of his beard against your neck made you break out in goosebumps. He kissed and sucked on your earlobe for a moment before asking, “You want me to take care of you, Princesa?”

You knew you were in for it when he started calling you that—that pet name was reserved for when you were being especially bratty. “Yes,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

Without another word he dropped to his knees, pulling you close to him by your hips. You braced yourself on the counter, whimpering in anticipation. His breath was warm against your thighs and core. You gripped his shoulders, pushing him into you. He let out what you assumed was a laugh as he pressed his tongue and lips against you. You moaned, nails digging into him as his tongue repeatedly went over your clit.

“Make me cum, Angel,” you begged.

He reached up, sliding two fingers into your mouth. You moaned, wetting them for him. He brought his hand back down, sliding his fingers in and out of you as his tongue continued to work you over. Your cries grew louder, and there was no doubt that the clubhouse was hearing you call his name, and Angel loved it. He slowly rose to his feet, still pumping his fingers into you. He pressed his lips hard onto yours, stifling your moans with a kiss for a moment before straying to your neck and leaving marks there for the rest of the world to see.

“Cum for me,” it was an order, and one that you were happy to oblige to. You gripped the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a heated kiss as you came.

“I love you, Angel,” you were trying to catch your breath still.

“Mmm, I love you too, Y/N, but we’re not done yet.”

“You said you wanted me to take care of business,” his hand was back at your throat, “We’re only halfway there. You still gotta pay up for that little stunt earlier, you know.”

He let go of your neck, guiding your hands to his belt buckle. You were still seated on the counter, hands shaky from everything you just experienced. You fumbled for a moment but were able to get the belt undone. You also undid the button and zipper on his jeans, nearly salivating as you tugged them down slightly. You lightly traced his erection through his boxers, causing him to gasp.

He pulled you off of the counter and spun you around so you were bent over it instead. He leaned close to your ear, “Enough teasing from you.”

You heard the sound of his jeans and boxers hitting the floor around his ankles. He lightly traced his fingers between your legs, your pussy still dripping. He let out a low chuckle as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your breathing wavered in anticipation. He slowly started to push into you, both of you letting out moans of pleasure.

He started thrusting into you slowly, pulling out almost all the way before filling you up again. You could hear him cursing under his breath about how good you felt, and it made your knees weak. The slow pace was torturous but you loved it.

Then, just as you were adjusting to the pace, he slammed into you. You yelped in surprise and he quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, applying pressure. “This is what you wanted, right?” he grunted as he continued fucking you over the counter, “Isn’t that right, Princesa? You wanted me to come home and take care of business?”

He let go of your throat and you coughed, trying to catch your breath. You were lightheaded from a mixture of the overstimulation of him fucking you and also the lack of blood that was getting to your brain while his hand was around your neck. Your hands gripped the edges of the counter as his fingertips dug into your hips, pulling you back against him over and over. His hold on you was the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor.

He smacked your ass, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” it was half-whisper, half-moan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was raspy, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

You felt his grip tighten even more as he continued to pound you. He let out a moan as he came inside you, making your knees finally give way. He was able to brace and keep you somewhat upright. He let out a chuckle as he pulled out of you, lifting you so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. You sank back against him with a shaky sigh.

“Is ten days too long, Y/N?” he whispered in your ear. All you could do was nod in response, earning another laugh from him. He spun you around and kissed you hard on the lips before letting go of you and pulling his pants back up. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh and between your legs, “Better clean yourself up, Amor. We still have a party to go to.”

[iliveiloveiwrite]

A Reader Lives a Thousand Lives // D.M.

Summary: How could you describe your affinity for books? How could you explain what they mean to you? Draco tries to understand; he’s tried to understand for years.

A/N: I’m going to be honest: I’m struggling. I don't have writer’s block, but I am so busy atm that I feel awful about not being so active. I’m a key worker in the latest lockdown and my workload has tripled. On top of that, I have be tested twice a week and that’s enough to drain you completely. This isn't a long fic, and it probably isn't my usual standard, so please forgive me.

Warnings: book talk, lots of fluff, dates, friends to lovers, pining, mutual pining, dialogue heavy

Word count: 2.1k

How could you describe your affinity for books?

They had been there for you in times where not even your closest friends could offer you the best advice. They were there for you with every shift of your mood; you knew that you could turn to your shelves and somewhere, nestled between paperbacks and hardbacks, there would be the perfect read for your mood.

Put simply, books were your life.

Friends and family would fondly chuckle whenever they saw you, nose deep in whatever book had caught your attention. They knew not to disturb you. Instead, they knew to be there when the inevitable end would fall upon you, dragging you through its cliff-hanger or perfectly wrapped up ending.

Draco Malfoy had known you years, and he had never known you not to have a book in your hands or in your bag. On occasion, he had known you to carry a book in both, wanting something there in case you finished your current read.

He’s tried to understand your love of books. He’s a reader himself, but he has never understood how you could lose yourself in a fantasy world so quickly. Magic runs through your veins, yet you find it easier to read of fae and vampires instead of the witches and wizards of old.

Draco gave up trying to understand you long ago; deciding simply to admire you from afar. He cherished the friendship with you; adored it even, and if that meant he had to spend his only free weekend from work in a book shop with you, then so be it.

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

In Wizarding London there weren’t many places that catered to the publications of both muggle and magical authors. Flourish and Blotts was an excellent bookshop, but only housed books by wizards and witches. If one wanted something written by a muggle but did not want to wander into muggle society, they were best off wandering down a cobbled side street in Diagon Alley to Page Turners.

Draco knew the moment that he opened his front door to you this morning, that he was going to wind up walking through the front door of Page Turners. He had just finished his first chart review when his doorbell rang, and your knocking began. He made sure to put the lid on his fountain pen before answering the door to you.

Dark brown shelves line every wall, bordering the shop before giving away to shelves centred in the middle of the room. At first glance, the books seemed chaotic – hardbacks tucked in between smaller paperbacks, but upon closer inspection, it was clear that the books were doubled. For every paperback, there was its hardback equivalent. It looked like it shouldn’t make sense, but the further you walked into the shop, the more sense it made.

Every reader is particular. There are those who will only exclusively read paperbacks, preferring how portable they are. But there are those who much prefer hardbacks, wanting nothing more than to admire the foiled covers and sprayed edges that one can only get on special editions. The set-up of the shelves perfectly catered to that.

“Draco,” You gasp, trying your best to keep your hands to yourself until you found the books you wanted to take home with you, “Have you ever seen a place so wonderful?”

Draco’s eyes don’t leave your form as he answers, “I don’t know, I’ve seen some spectacular sights in my time.”

You don’t respond to the light flirtation, but Draco doesn’t miss the smile that crosses your face. You refuse to admit just how he makes your heart race with comments such as that; they fall from his mouth so easily that you often find yourself tied up in your emotions, wondering when on earth your feelings had turned from platonic to romantic.

Inhaling that all too familiar smell of worn leather and paper, you feel Draco’s presence behind you as you potter through the store, taking in the sheer amount of choices before you. “What’s your favourite book?” You ask absentmindedly, eyes still pouring over the surnames of authors.

He shrugs, shamefully admitting, “I haven’t read anything other than a medical journal in years.”

“Still,” You argue, “You must have a favourite book.”

He’s silent, pondering your words as he thinks back to the last time he was able to relax and read something that wasn’t for work. He thinks back to his childhood, practically hearing his mother’s voice in his ears as she recites her favourite fairytales before sending him to bed.

“It’s been so long,” He whispers, casting his gaze across the shop, in awe at the sheer amount of books he has not read.

“Then we should find you a new book to read,” You decide, stating your words with conviction as you reach for the blonde’s hand, beginning to pull him through the stacks of shelves like a woman on a mission.

“When would I have the time?” Draco argues, refusing to let go of your hand as you stop in front of a shelf filled to the brim with books.

You arch an eyebrow, “I think if I were to ask the nurses at St. Mungo’s, they would much prefer it if you would read a book instead of taking work home with you every night.”

“How do you know I do that?”

You snort, laughter brightening your eyes, “Because I know you, Draco.” Your expression turns more serious, “You need to take some time for yourself, Dray. You can’t work this hard all the time and not expect some repercussions.”

“I’m taking time for myself right now,” Draco counters, gesturing between you both with his free hand. He wasn’t going to let go of your hand until he had to; he enjoyed feeling your skin against his too much.

You roll your eyes, “You would be sat at home finishing charts if I hadn’t have shown up on your doorstep demanding your attention.”

Draco refuses to answer; knowing full well that you’ve caught him out. Before you showed up at his front door this morning, he had in fact been planning on spending the day in his office, finishing charts and then reading the latest journal on healing potions.

It hits him like a freight train then – how much time he has dedicated to his work, how much of his life had already given it. Draco adores being a Healer; much preferring this job to what was expected of him from his father. He walks into St. Mungo’s with anticipation and excitement settling deep within his bones because no two days there are the same; he doesn’t know what cases are going to land in his lap.

Yet, he gives so much of himself over to it that there is little left for him to enjoy. It happened slowly; Draco supposes. Taking a few charts home here and there, for him to finish in the comfort of his office, but then it spiralled into staying hours after his shift had finished, working on budgets and chart reviews, making sure everything is up to the standard it should be for the only magical hospital in the British Isles.

Before long, he hadn’t had a free weekend to himself in close to a year. If he wasn’t working at the hospital, he was working from home. If he was at the hospital, he was taking case after case. It wasn’t until Mary, the Head Nurse, had cornered him that Draco agreed he would take the weekend to himself – no charts, no reviews, no nothing. Mary even checked his bag before he left the hospital.

“You’re right,” Draco admits, the words rushing out of him in one breath.

“I usually am,” You tease, a wide smile on your face, “But what am I right about this time?”

“I don’t take time for myself. I don’t do anything for myself.”

Your gaze softens as you squeeze his hand, “Let’s find you something to read. If we don’t find something here, we’ll think of another plan.”

Draco nods, squeezing your hand in return. “Lead the way,” He offers, curious as to what books you would choose for him.

It doesn’t take long for you to find what you think Draco would like. You stick close to his interests, knowing just how much they have changed from your shared time at Hogwarts.

Offering him three books, you explain, “One is written by a muggle doctor, he explains twelve cases that he worked on specially as he battled an illness he didn’t know he was going to survive. The second is a classic novel, also written by a muggle author that I think you should read when you have more time on your hands – it’s Victorian so longer sentences, longer headaches. The third book is a mystery book that I enjoyed, and I thought you would too.”

“Thank you,” Draco murmurs, taking the small pile of paperbacks from you, holding them close as he gazes over their covers, wondering what exactly what is about him that drew you to these three particular books.

“What do you think?” You ask, a note of vulnerability in your voice. Choosing books for others had never truly been your strong suit despite how much you read.

Draco remains silent for a moment as he flips the books over in his hands, reading the blurbs. You chew on the inside of your cheek, worry settling in your gut. There had been an ulterior motive to you showing up on his doorstep this morning; he needed to leave the house and go out. Having known him years, you knew that Draco would spend his only free weekend of the month working, and you were not standing for it any longer. He didn’t have to choose the books you had picked out; Merlin, he didn’t to read at all, but he needed to do something else other than work.

“Well?” You prompt before sighing, “You don’t have to read a book, Dray. We can find something else; I just don’t want you to spend all your free time working.”

Draco looks up from the books, a small smile on his face, “I’ll take them. I like the sound of the first one you described.”

The smile that graces your face at Draco’s words tells him that he had made the right choice. The anxiety leaves you in a rush, leaving nothing but relief behind.

“What about you?” Draco asks, turning the subject back to you, “What are you going to buy?”

You shrug, “I’ve already picked a few but I wouldn’t mind looking for more. That is, if you’re okay with that?”

Draco is more than okay with that. He follows you around the shop, taking the basket of books from you when it looks to be getting too heavy.

“Why do you read so many books?” Draco asks before he can stop himself.

“A reader lives a thousand lives,” You murmur, flipping through the pages of one particular paperback. Draco resists the urge to roll his eyes when he sees the cover: a half-naked man wrapped up in a passionate embrace with a scantily clad woman. Romance novels were your current obsession, reading through dozens of them and still not getting your fill.

“Let me take you on a date,” Draco asks suddenly, the first notes of shyness creeping into his voice.

It’s as he watches you flick through the pages of the book in your hand that draco realises he has done this for years. He has watched you for years fall into fictional worlds and come out the other side with a new part of you for him to discover. He has watched you fall in love characters only to feel foolish once he realises the keen sting of jealousy is over a person who does not and will not exist.

Draco has watched this for years, and as he watches you add the romance novel to your basket, he realises he could do this for a lot longer. He wants nothing more than to ignore his work for the weekend if it meant he could troll around bookshops with you, watching you find more fictional worlds for you to fall in love all the while loving you just as intensely.

“What would you have in mind?” You counter, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, giving in to the butterflies raging in your gut.

He smiles, nonchalantly leaning against one of the bookshelves, watching as you reach for spine after spine. Draco knows exactly what he would plan for your date, but he would be damned if he was to tell you. Instead, he crosses his arms and leans forward, “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

----------

Books mentioned:

Twelve Patients: Life and Death at Bellevue Hospital by Eric Manheimer

Dracula by Bram Stoker

The Glass House by Eve Chase

**********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @probably-peeves @big-galaxy-chaos @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @awritingtree @haphazardhufflepuff @stupxfy @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @slytherinsunrise @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @sarcasticallywitty15 @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleysredhair @theonly1outof-a-billion​ @phuvioqhile​ @moatsnow​ @storyisnotover​ @himooonlight​ @missmulti​ @amourtentiaa​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell​ @obxmxybxnk​ @obx-beach​ @dracomalfoyswifey​ @sycathorn-slush​ @kashishwrites​ @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @aspiringsloth20​ @just-a-belgian-girl​ @lahoete​ @minty-malfoy​ @fallinallinmendes​ @ravenclawbitch426​ @ochrythum​ @beiahadid​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @dracosathenaeum​

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Among Us idea: Because I'm a little bit obsessed with game mechanics and glitches in fic...how about a round where one of the Hermits gets left behind? The game ends, and everyone but them is transported to the lobby, but they're just left on an empty ship flying eternally to some destination it will never reach... All the tasks are done. There's nothing left to do. So why is the game still keeping them there? And how do they escape? (It could also be two people left, if writing just one alone would be boring. Your choice who!)

SKSKSKSKSK HOW DO YOU DO THIS I’VE BEEN PLANNING OUT AN IDEA IN MY HEAD FOR THE LAST FEW DAYS IN WHICH TWO PLAYERS ACCIDENTALLY GET LEFT BEHIND HOW DO YOU KEEP READING MY MIND (/lh)

also i had a kind of idea to expand the concept a little bit and i hope that’s okay :)

also also i too love the ideas that utilise glitches or kinda ignore game mechanics; they're always so interesting to write! :D

…

Having finished his tasks a long time ago and not being teleported to any meetings lately, Skizz wanders around the whole ship, trying to find a friend. A buddy. Or literally anyone. But the ship seems deserted.

Finally, Skizz wanders into admin and checks the special table.

To his shock, he finds only two yellow faces on the screen: one in admin and one in cafeteria. So he rushes into the cafeteria and literally bumps into someone coming the other way.

“Oh my gosh, FINALLY,” Impulse breathes. “Where IS everyone?”

Skizz glances away, unable to meet his best friend’s gaze. “We have a problem.”

Impulse frowns. “What?” he asks warily.

“Um…” Skizz rubs the back of his neck. “So… it seems we’re the only two people on the ship.”

It takes a moment for Impulse’s brain to process what his friend just said. “...what?”

“I looked around the whole ship and then went to the admin table. There were only two yellow dots: me and you. There’s literally nobody else anywhere on the ship, dude.”

“But… I…” Impulse blinks. “How is that possible? Did the game end and leave us behind, somehow?”

“I feel like that’s the only possible explanation, but at the same time, it makes no sense.”

“Well, if this IS what happened, it’s gotta be a glitch, right?” says Impulse.

Skizz nods. “Gotta be. But now the question is… how do we get outta here?”

Impulse gazes around the room. “The game always automatically puts us back in the lobby when we’re done, so… I don’t think there’s a way of manually doing it.”

Skizz stares back at him with wide eyes. “You mean we’re stuck in THIS particular ship forever?!”

“W-Well, hopefully not FOREVER,” Impulse responds nervously. “I’m sure they’ll have realised we’re missing by now and they’ll be trying to get us back.”

“But what if they can’t?!” Skizz yelps. “We’ll be trapped in this purgatory forever!”

“Not helping, Skizz,” snaps Impulse. “We’ll be totally fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, like I can have ANY faith in your words anymore,” mutters Skizz, turning away.

Impulse glances sharply at him, sensing that his best friend’s words aren’t about Among Us. Not entirely. “What do you mean?”

Skizz just rolls his eyes and walks off.

Impulse watches him go. Looks like Skizz hasn’t been so quick to forgive and forget after all. Now the way Skizz was acting around him earlier makes sense.

After making a quick trip around the ship, Impulse discovers Skizz sitting leaning against the wall in admin, tossing a stack of ID cards at the wall one at a time.

“Still no way off,” Impulse reports. “Looks like we’re stuck here until they rescue us. Flying through space. On a ship heading to nowhere. An endless journey. With nothing except-.”

“Yes, okay, I get it!” Skizz snaps at him.

After a moment, Impulse leans against the admin table. “Skizz, you’ve been acting weird around me all night. I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk.”

“C’mon. We’re stuck here on a ship on our own for the foreseeable future. There’s no better time to talk than now.”

“Okay!” snaps Skizz unexpectedly, jumping to his feet. “FINE! You wanna talk?! I don’t care! You did a LOT of talking back there on 3rd Life and not a word of it was true!”

Impulse frowns. “Is that what this is about?”

Skizz’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “WH- WHAT DO YOU MEAN “is that what this is about”?! You say that like I’m mad at you for stealing my sandwich! Impulse, you LIED to me, BETRAYED me, and then watched Grian KILL me! You told me over and over again that you were on my side and you were loyal to us but you planned to betray us from the start! Y-You planned to betray ME. Do you-” He breaks off with a bitter laugh. “You know what, I was gonna say “do you have any idea how much that hurts?” but you DO, don’t you? Because your own ally turned on you. And murdered you. And you know what? YOU DESERVED IT!”

Impulse can only stare at his best friend with an expression of guilt and sadness.

“I wanted you to go far, dude! I wanted you to win at one point!” Skizz’s voice cracks. “I thought you were the best of us but it turns out you were nothing but a dirty liar and a traitor! I thought “oh, his strategy of playing all sides is pretty smart, actually, but he’s gonna have to pick a side at some point” but I didn’t realise that meant pretending to pick a side and then STABBING THEM IN THE BACK! Of all the- the jerky things to do! You pick the worst one! I-I just don’t understand how you could do that to someone you’ve been a brother to for A QUARTER OF A CENTURY! GOD, you SO deserved to die and the biggest regret of my life is that I didn’t get imposter tonight so I could stab you in the FACE!”

Skizz finally stops talking, breathing heavily. He takes in a deep breath, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Wow… I did not expect to yell that much…”

“I…” Impulse searches for something to say. But he can’t find anything. “I don’t…”

“You don’t have to say anything, Impulse.” Skizz gives a weak smile. “I-I think I just needed to… to let my feelings out.”

“You just needed to yell at me, huh? I get that.”

“Haha, yeah. Remember that time I snuck onto Hermitcraft and did a bunch of reckless things and then died, and you didn’t know if I was gonna respawn or not?”

Impulse nods, a small smile appearing on his face. “That’s what I was indirectly referring to. I think my throat hurt from yelling at you for, like, two weeks after that.”

“Are we even now, then?” asks Skizz.

“Well, I mean… Probably not. I still have a lot to make up for.”

Skizz shakes his head. “No, it… it’s okay. We all did things in that place that we’re not proud of.”

“Even the great Skizzleman?” teases Impulse weakly.

“Oh heck yeah. I still have nightmares about how I violently murdered two of my friends and how bloodthirsty I felt for so long. It freaks me out that I got to that point, man. Even in Among Us when I murder people, even you, I never got THAT bad.”

“Yeah, 3rd Life was…” Again, Impulse searches for the right word. “...an experience. In more ways than one.”

“It really was,” Skizz murmurs, letting out a long breath. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have let it affect Among Us so much.”

“No, it’s okay. And we can-.”

Impulse breaks off Skizz suddenly disappears in front of him. Blinking, he just has time to take a step forward before the admin room vanishes and he finds himself back in the lobby.

With eight people staring at him.

“Oh my gosh, finally!” Tango gasps, grabbing both Impulse and Skizz in a hug. “Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine, dude,” laughs Skizz quietly. “We just yelled at each other a bit, that’s all.”

Impulse chuckles. “Well, it was mostly Skizz doing the yelling.”

“Yeah, true. How did you guys even manage to get us out?”

“The insane genius that is Etho hacked into the code and managed to force the round to end again,” Tango responds. “Somehow. I dunno how. Took us a while to figure out what’d happened, though.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen that glitch before,” Etho chimes in. “There was six left, Grian and Ren double-killed me and Pungence to win, and that should’ve been it. The rest of us respawned in the lobby but we realised you two were missing.”

“Whoa, that’s so weird.” Skizz exchanges a look with Impulse. “Cuz for us, it was like the round just hadn’t ended.”

“Yeah, we’d both done all our tasks and we had no idea anything had happened.”

“What did you guys do?”

Impulse and Skizz shoot each other another look, silently making a mutual decision. “Just talked a bit and tried to look for a way out,” Impulse replies. “That’s all.”

Tango frowns, clearly picking up on the slight tension between them, but he doesn’t mention it. “Okay. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yeah.”

Skizz thinks back to the way he’d exploded at Impulse, and the way Impulse had looked at him with fear in his eyes. All the fury, the despair, the hurt… It had all spilled out at once. Skizz never wants to feel that way again.

“Let’s hope not.”

[combat-wombatus]

Crimson Snow

Pairing: Hawks (Takami Keigo) x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst :’) (a lil bit of fluff thrown in here and there)

Warnings: mentions of blood, character death. 

WC: 7.8k. am i sorry? no.

Summary: Childhood friends doesn’t always equal lovers in the future. You wished that was the case, but ever since Keigo disappeared, you found it hard to believe in love again. 

(A/N): this was. i had to write this. it wasn’t up for debate. finishing this at 4am in the morning aldksjfhajshd. spent a grant total of 2 days brainstorming & writing this fic. not proofread at all. heavily inspired by the song 小幸运 by Hebe Tien. i strongly suggest you give it a try and listen to it as you read this :p (for all my chinese speakers out there...let’s see how you deal with this heartbreak :’) so yeah. i’m actually...really really proud of this fic. i tried a new format with this, and i think i kinda like it. also i left the ending up to interpretation if you don’t read the epilogue. enjoy! 

credit for this au goes to @wafflesandkruge​

here’s the link to the music :)

The one constant in your life.

The boy who’d always been there for you, through the dark days and the cold nights, holding your hand through it all.

The one who’d held you when you broke down.

The one who’d tucked you under his wings as the skies crackled with energy, rain pouring from the heavens, and told you that no matter where you went, he’d stay with you. He’d keep you nice and dry, snuggled close to his body as he shielded you from the storm.

The one constant in your life.

He’d left quietly in the night, not stopping by to say farewell.

In his place, he’d left a lonesome letter, tucked away beneath a boulder on your special hill.

“I’ll come back for you. Wait for me, okay?”

And from within that plain white envelope, a single red feather floated out, carried on the autumn winds, drifting aimlessly.

Almost as if it were lost.

And in that moment, you felt as if you’d lost a part of yourself, a little piece of your soul.

You weren’t sure you were ever going to get it back.

Years passed. You waited. There was no sign of him

Not in the skies, not on the land, and even though you’d sometimes see him in the reflection of the water, sitting next to you as you told him about your day, he wasn’t really there either.

I won’t give up on him.

I’ll stay strong.

He told me he’d come back for me.

Against the test of time, your resolve never withered. It only grew, strong as steel, taking over the crevices in your heart where he’d left his mark.

I’ll wait for you, Kei.

But please…come back to me.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend called out enthusiastically from her position on the couch. “Come look!”

“What?” You stepped out of the kitchen, only to be greeted by a familiar face, smirking on the TV screen.

“Look at him! He’s this new hero, and he’s only 18! (Y/N)! He’s our age! Isn’t he hot?” She pointed at his flickering image. “His hero name is Hawks!” Squealing, she turned to you. “Isn’t that so cool?”

You stood in shock, the glass of water that you had been holding slipped from your fingers and shattered onto the floor. Liquid pooled around your feet, soaking your slippers, but you made no move to step aside.

“Woah! (Y/N), are you okay?” She jumped off the couch, rushing towards you. “Hey, (Y/N)? He’s cute and all but…this is a little bit much, isn’t it?” She looked at you with concern, eyebrows drawing tighter when you didn’t respond.

“(Y/N) …what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Shaking yourself from your daze, you averted your eyes. “Ahh, I’m sorry. Uh…I just, I never thought I’d see him again.”

“Wait, you know him?” Your friend looked at you, surprised. “(Y/N) …did he do something to you?” She asked softly. “If he did, I don’t care how cute he is, I’m gonna kick his ass to high heaven if need be. Someone like that shouldn’t be a hero.”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “No…no, there’s no need to do that. It’s just…it’s been a long time, and I just didn’t expect to see him.”

“Ahh. Well, step out of that puddle! Come on, let’s grab you some paper towels.”

Hey!

It’s me, (Y/N). I…I saw you on TV today. You look…different. In a good way, I suppose. You’ve bulked up a bit.

You never used to smile like that though. Not like…like you were smiling for others. Seeing you smile for the camera, well…it made me sad.

But I’m happy that you’re ok. I think it would probably be hard for you to find me, since obviously I’m not on the news. So I’ll come find you instead, yeah? What do you say we catch up sometime?

I miss you. I’m in college now. I’m doing pretty good. You’re an overachiever, aren’t you? 18 years old and you already have your own agency.

Not that I’m complaining. Thanks for making it so easy for me to find you :)

So…let’s meet up sometime, when you have time? Maybe for some coffee? I know a quaint little place. It’s not too far away from your agency, three blocks to the right, turn left, and walk to the next intersection. It’s the corner shop. You can’t miss it.

I’ll wait for you there this Saturday, okay? I’ll do my work there. You can walk in whenever you have the time.

Your chicken, (Y/N)

Saturday came faster than you could prepare yourself. You checked your reflection repeatedly in the mirror, double-guessing your outfit decisions.

What if he doesn’t like it?

Is this too formal for a coffee date?

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend barged into the bathroom. “I saw all the clothes on your bed! Are you going on a date?”

“Uh…just a meeting with an old friend. To catch up,” you explained.

She looked at you suspiciously. “Old friend…is it that guy on TV? Hawks?”

You grew flustered. “Err…yeah. If he got my letter.”

She looked you up and down, then dragged you into her closet. “Good thing I just went on a shopping spree last weekend then!” She pumped a fist excitedly in the air. “I’m giving you a makeover!”

Two hours later, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror once more. Your friend had put you through every single possible combination of outfits using both your closet and hers, and you had to agree that she had impeccable taste.

“Come on, you’re going to be late!” She shoved you out of the bathroom.

“I didn’t set a time!” You protested, laughing.

“Well, get your ass out of here! My boyfriend’s coming over!”

“So that’s the real reason you want me gone, hmm?” You teased her.

“Shush! Get out!”

Hawks was on patrol. You had been on his mind the entire week. Ever since your letter had reached his desk, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Thinking about you brought back happier times, and he wasn’t masochistic enough to give himself false hope.

No, it would be better for you to forget about him, and vice versa.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself. His body flew of its own accord, ignoring the sensibilities of his mind that screamed at it to stop.

Go back! The reasonable voice inside his head yelled.

Fly back!

His body refused to listen.

He found himself gently landing on a rooftop, right across the little café you told him to meet you at.

He even debated going inside. Just for a second. Just for a cup of coffee, to warm myself up in the chilly late-afternoon breeze, he told himself.

Then, he scoffed. Who was he kidding? If he went inside, he wouldn’t have the resolve to step back out before he saw you.

Shaking his head, he flew away as quickly as he could.

If he’d stayed a moment longer, he would’ve seen you walk down the street, humming a little tune to yourself.

Maybe then his resolve would’ve cracked.

Too bad he’ll never know.

Sitting alone at a table for two was an unpleasant feeling. Especially when you’re on your third drink, the waitress keeps eyeing you with pity, and you couldn’t concentrate on your work.

“Miss?” The waitress stopped by your table again. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re closing in 15 minutes.”

You checked the time on your laptop. Crap. It was already 5:15.

“Oh yeah, uhh, sorry to bother you!” You chuckle awkwardly. You quickly packed your books and laptop, dropped a $20 bill on the table, and hurried out the door. Walking home in silence, you tried your best not to feel too disappointed.

Maybe he just didn’t have time?

It’s ok. You’ll just ask him again, another time.

Another time.

You sent him countless letters. For the first year, at least. When he ignores all of them, you visit his agency in person.

As you walk through the glass doors, there’s a man sitting behind the reception desk.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you today?” He asks in the customary polite tone.

“I’m looking for Keigo. Hawks,” you answer, trying to hide your nervousness.

He looks at you suspiciously. “How do you know his first name?”

“We…we were childhood friends,” you tried to explain. “I…well, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

He took a closer look at you. “Can I ask for your name, miss?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He sighed. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to leave the premises, Miss (Y/L/N). You’re not allowed to be here.”

What?

He hadn’t kicked you out before you told him your name.

“Why-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Miss (Y/L/N). I’m afraid that I have to ask you to leave, and don’t come back. Should I call security to escort you out?”

Holding back tears, you clutched your purse close to your chest and hurried out the glass doors, wishing nothing more than to shatter them into pieces.

You didn’t send any more letters after that.

Years pass. Every year on your birthday, Keigo gave you a feather.

“So I’ll always be with you,” he joked.

His feathers are extra durable, but time can wear down even the strongest things.

The last feather you got from him was ten years ago.

It can barely be considered a feather at this point, and you keep it in a special glass case so it can’t get any more worn down.

Ten years.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow.

Ten years of waiting around for him turned into ten years of watching him date other women. Ten years of hiding your pain every time another picture of him kissing a new girl graced the covers of the tabloids.

The first time, you cried yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t the last time.

Again and again, he breaks your heart.

By the third year, you convinced yourself to stop looking at the tabloids and the gossip sites.

By the fifth year, you scold yourself. You vow to stop crying over a stupid childhood crush.

By the seventh, you told yourself that you needed to forget about him. Step back into the dating ring, make out with someone else, and remove his presence entirely from your mind.

That didn’t work out.

Ten years.

It killed you to finally harden your resolve, but you told yourself that you couldn’t spend your whole life waiting for someone who was never going to love you back.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow, and you’re going to go on a date.

He’s watching you. He always is.

It makes him feel like a creepy stalker, but he can’t help it.

He watches you as you step into the restaurant, decked out in formal wear that looked amazing on you.

Going on a date. With someone who wasn’t him.

He stays on the rooftop, watching you through a window as you ate and laughed.

He wishes that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one helping you order food from the menu, that he was the one sharing a dessert with you.

He’s selfish like that. It never does him any good.

He’s scared, really. Scared of commitment, tarnished by his time spent in the work program.

He sees you as the one thing in life that they can’t take away from him. You have this innocence, this purity that you always carry around with you, because you’re a part of a time when his life wasn’t so complicated.

He doesn’t want to shatter that illusion.

He never reached out to you because he’s scared.

He’s scared that he’ll break you.

He stopped sending you feathers, heart splintering every time your birthday comes around, hoping you’ll eventually forget him.

You don’t.

It’s not that you didn’t try.

No one else really interested you.

That is, until Masaki came along. He was bright, happy, always upbeat. He could find the words to cheer you up, to make a bad day that much better. He was attentive, caring, sweet.

He was everything that most people would look for in a partner.

And slowly, you began to open up to him too.

You fell into his embrace easier. You got a little happier when he came over for dinner.

You felt just a little safer when you were wrapped in his arms, a luxury you never thought you’d have.

Two years later, during a picnic date, he proposed.

You always had a love for picnic dates. Maybe because your first date, with Keigo, was a messy picnic affair during the spring, on top of a little hill where wildflowers bloomed and birds pecked at your leftovers.

“Stop!” You giggled, whipped cream smeared all over your cheeks. “You’re going to get it on my clothes!”

Keigo laughed, then popped another strawberry in your mouth. “You can wash that off later, silly! Just have fun!”

“It’s not fun when my clothes are all sticky,” you whined. “You try it! It feels gross!”

He smirked. “Oh really?”

Taking a strawberry, he dipped it in the container of cream you had brought, then stuck it down his shirt.

“Ha! Take that!” He gloated.

You stared at him in shock. “Did you just–”

“Yes I did! And it’s not gross at all, see?” He plucked the strawberry back out and shoved it in his mouth.

“Eww! Kei, that’s disgusting!”

“No it’s not, it still tastes like a strawberry! Mphm!” He chewed, licking his fingers.

He regretted that decision later, when bees swarmed the front of his shirt.

“Eek!” He shrieked, hopping backwards.

“Kei, take off your shirt!”

“It’s so sticky!” He yelped, trying to peel the front of his shirt away from his chest.

“I told you!”

“Hey, now is NOT the time for the ‘I told you so’ speech, okay?” He finally ripped his shirt off.

You couldn’t help it. You cackled.

“What now?” He looked at the bees feasting on his ruined tee.

“I told you so,” you teased him.

Taking one look at the devious glint in his eyes, you scooped up the picnic supplies and raced down the hill.

He followed, wings beating, taking off into the air. He reached you within seconds, tacking you to the ground.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” You struggled against him. “You know you’re fast when you fly!”

He looked at you mischievously. “And what about it?”

“You can’t race me like that when I’m on foot!”

“Who said we were racing?” His eyes locked on your lips. “I was just trying to catch up to you.”

You blushed, suddenly realizing how close his face was to yours.

“Kei–” you started.

“Can I kiss you?” He interrupted you, then quickly blushed. “I mean, only if you want to-”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, interrupting him with a kiss.

He tasted like the remnants of strawberries and cream, sweet honey on a beautiful spring day.

And it was a beautiful spring day.

Perhaps the last beautiful spring day you’d ever have, for the next spring, he was gone.

Beautiful spring days were few and far between. You’d learned that the hard way.

But today…you were inclined to think that it might be another one of those days.

Your boyfriend of two years had proposed on a beautiful spring day reminiscent of one long ago.

You supposed that this marked a series of firsts.

First date. First kiss. And now…a proposal.

You accept his proposal, tears in your eyes. He thinks that they’re tears of happiness, and in part, they are.

You don’t tell him that this was the one thing that you never thought you’d do. You feel like you’re betraying Keigo.

You have to remind yourself that he betrayed you first.

Half a year later, you have a wedding. It’s a small wedding, with only your families and close friends. You considered reaching out to Hawks’s hero agency, but decided to spare yourself the pain.

He’d moved on. So would you.

Unbeknownst to you, when the ceremony rolled around, Keigo was standing on a nearby rooftop, the wind blowing away his tears.

He couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.

He knew that he couldn’t have you, but didn’t you know that he was a sucker for pain? Watching you repeat the vows was like getting punched full-force in the gut, but the wind never returned to his lungs.

He felt empty inside. Something essential was missing, and he knew what it was, but he also knew that he couldn’t ever have it. Not if he wanted you to stay alive.

As the ceremony finished, he flew away into the sunset, and you caught a glimpse of his crimson wings, purely on accident. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Now I’m hallucinating too,” you muttered to yourself.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you imagined the whole thing, that final view made it so much harder for you to forget him.

Another year passed, and the seasons changed as they did. Spring flowing into summer, summer fading into autumn, autumn slowly drifting into winter.

Gradually, your new life engulfed you, the comfort of it all slowly draining away your doubts. Your husband was a good man. A faithful man. A caring man.

He held doors open for you and snuggled you on the couch. He played with your hair and made you breakfast in bed. He made it difficult for you not to love him.

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to resist, anyways.

One night, you woke up in your shared bed, screaming in pain. Your lower back burned, almost as if you were getting branded.

Your husband woke up to the commotion. The bedsheets were stained with blood. Fresh, crimson, blood, all of it coming from you.

Whimpering, you laid limp as Masaki set you on your belly, trying to figure out the source of the injury. Taking a clean paper towel, he gingerly wiped the blood off of your raw skin, showing a tattoo emblazoned in gold ink.

Written in elegant cursive were three simple words.

Three words, but they hurt to look at.

(Y/N) …I’m sorry.

Your husband stared in shock. This didn’t happen. This couldn’t happen, could it? The only way someone got a tattoo like this was if their soulmate died, and, well…he was still very much alive.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

In this world, quirks weren’t the only strange thing.

Soulmates existed. But most never found out until it was too late.

When your soulmate died, their last words would be tattooed permanently on their other half’s skin in a bloody and painful process.

Their last moments would flash before the other’s eyes.

Nothing you could do. Nothing you could be sure of, until it was too late.

Fires blazed everywhere.

Building after building, it ate away at the crumbling city, tearing down everything in its path.

“Help!” A voice choked out, raspy from smoke intake. “There’s a beam—ugh—on my leg. I can’t get it off!”

A winged figure crouched on a burning rooftop, out of breath and utterly exhausted.

Backup wasn’t coming.

The whole city was burning.

Standing shakily, he sent the last of his feathers off to help the trapped woman.

“That’s it for me then, I suppose,” his smile wobbled slightly. “My work here is done.”

He couldn’t risk jumping off of the roof. His wings were stubs on his back, and only a single feather remained.

“That’s not enough for me to fly off, now is it?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, if only you could see me right now, (Y/N). You’d be proud. Saved more than 500 people today, you know that?” He sighed, sitting down on the roof. “Lost count somewhere around there. You were always proud of me, weren’t you? The only one that believed in me when I told myself I couldn’t fly.

You’re the one that taught me to fly, remember, chicken? Those were the good times.

Look at me now. Talking to myself. Don’t even have the strength to fly down anymore.” He coughed into his hand, blood staining his palm. He grasped tightly onto a keychain around his neck, smearing the metal with crimson.

“I never did thank you. Guess it’s too late now.” He stared up at the sky, hues of orange and gold dancing across the horizon.

“Never did treat you right.” He plucked his last feather off of his back, twirling it around in his fingers.

“You were always too good for me. Too good for anyone, really.” He laid down on the roof, back no longer sensitive to the burning heat.

“I lost the right to love you a long time ago. I’ve got no business crying over you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But is that going to stop me?”

Letting go of the keychain and his feather, his hands went limp.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The roof collapsed, the hungry flames licking at the bottom finally swallowing him whole. His comms fell out of his ear, the plastic melting in the heat.

A single red feather floated down to the ground, charred and blackened.

The only remains of his body they’ll ever find.

You were sobbing uncontrollably. Keigo.

He was your soulmate.

The boy you loved.

The one who’d abandoned you.

The one who you tried to forget.

He was your soulmate.

Your soulmate, who was dead.

“Turn…turn on the TV,” you whispered weakly. “Turn it on. I need to see.”

Masaki reached for the remote, flipping it on to the news channel.

“Earlier tonight, a bomb was detonated in Nagoya prefecture. Top heroes were on the scene, including Endeavor and Hawks, but their quirks are ill-suited to fight the conflagration. Endeavor has resorted to using brute strength to rescue people from the rubble, while Hawks hasn’t been seen since the beginning of the night. We are now reporting his status as MIA, and will continue to look for the Winged Hero, along with updating our reports on the status of missing civilians–”

You shut the TV off. You’d heard all you needed to.

Throwing on a mishmash of clothing, you sprinted out the door. Hailing a taxi, you hopped in before it had even screeched to a full stop.

“Hawks Hero Agency.” You told the driver, not bothering to mince your words. You hadn’t bothered to wipe all the blood off of your back either, so it was gradually staining your coat a deep crimson, a mocking parody of the way that Keigo’s feathers used to lay against his back.

His feathers that were burnt, charred, turned to ashes, no longer able to bring you the comfort they once had when they wrapped you in a warm embrace.

The driver looked concerned. “Miss, do you know what happened today? Hawks isn’t–”

“Yes, I know. Drive.”

You pressed your forehead against the window, breath steaming up the glass. It reminded you of one winter, when the two of you had been building snowmen, and your mother called you in for dinner.

“Kei, I have to go,” you tugged at his hand.

“Aww, (Y/N),” he kicked at an unfortunate stone with the scuffed toe of his boot. “Why can’t you stay a little longer? We haven’t finished his head yet.” He pouted.

“I can’t, Kei,” you tried to make him release his iron grip on your hand. “Mama’s gonna get mad.”

“Then I’ll make you stay!” He boldly declared, wrapping his little arms around your frame, tackling you to the snow-covered ground.

The two of you giggled, engaged in a tickle war, your mom’s voice fading into the distance.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” Your mom yelled, marching over to where the two of you lay, tangled in a heap. “Do you want to get a cold?”

“No, Mama,” you said, slowly getting up and dusting the snow off of your parka. “I’m coming.” You turned around and poked your tongue out at your friend, letting your mom drag you back into your house.

Keigo sat in the snow for a while longer, not exactly excited to go back to his house.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

He beat his little wings as fast as he could, half flying, half stumbling to your kitchen window.

Sneaking a peek inside, he saw you staring questioningly back at him. Not bothering to hide his mischievous grin, he puffed out a breath, steaming the window, took his little glove off, and started writing.

“D O  Y O U  W A N T  T O  F L Y  W I T H  M E ?” He painstakingly wrote out.

You shook your head, and his grin quickly dropped from his face. Looking down, he almost missed the words you mouthed out.

“I can’t read it!” You tried your best to sign. “It’s backwards!”

“Oh!” He tried his best to write the mirror image of what he had just written, making sure that you could read it from your point of view this time. You read his little message, a grin taking over your face.

“Y E S!” You mouthed. “YES, YES, YES!”

Quickly scarfing down your dinner, you waved a hasty goodbye to your mom, racing out the back door, only to get tackled into the snow.

“Come on, let’s go!” He took ahold of your hand. “Race you!”

“You can’t race me if you’re holding my hand!” You shrieked in delight. “Stop it!”

He paused, turning around. “Hmm. Well, maybe I don’t want to race you then,” he looked at you with a small smile on his face. “I wanna try something new!”

“Oh?” You asked, seeing the way his eyes lit up with delight. “What is it?”

“I wanna fly! With you!”

Giggling, he turned you around so that your back was facing him. He circled his arms below your armpits.

“Hang on!” He flapped his wings as fast as he could, kicking up a storm of snow around you. To his surprise, he actually managed to lift the two of you off the ground for around 3 feet or so. He wasn’t expecting it to work on his first try, but the two of you really were flying!

Sighing, you turned away from the window.

Happier times, you chuckled mirthlessly.

Isn’t it sad that I’m only remembering them now?

The car screeched to a stop at the front door to the Hawks Hero Agency.

You stepped into the lobby, the fluorescent lights blinding.

It’s the middle of the night, but they don’t seem to mind, you thought. Everyone was bustling around the place like it was normal.

The receptionist had changed since you’d last been here.

She spotted you and hurried over, most likely because of the blood staining your clothes.

“Miss, are you hurt?” She gave you a once-over. “Can I help you?”

You stared at her in shock for a moment. What were you here for again?

“Oh…uh,” you wrung your hands nervously. “I’m here for Hawks.”

Her expression of concern melted away into one of annoyance. “Another fangirl. This one appears to be married too,” she scoffed at the band adorning your left ring finger. “People these days…” she muttered underneath her breath, already hurrying back to her desk, where the phone rang incessantly.

“No. I’m not a fangirl.” You lifted your head. You might be in pain, but damned if you were going to let a stranger strip you of the remaining shreds of your dignity.

“I’m his soulmate.”

The way you said that phrase with such conviction made the lady pause.

“Soulmate?” She questioned. Girls had tried this trick on her before, but…when asked to prove themselves, they merely responded with “oh, it’s just a feeling,” or “I just know it.”

Never once had anyone said this phrase with such confidence.

“Yes.” You shut your eyes, defiantly holding back tears. “You have comms, right? What did he say before the comms died?”

The lady stared back at you, a pang of sorrow shooting its way into her heart. You weren’t joking around, were you?

“I…yes, yes we do. What’s your name, miss?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

She stared at you for another moment, then quietly pulled out her comms.

“He said…” she choked a little. “He said, ‘(Y/N) …I’m sorry.’ We weren’t sure who he was talking about. We assumed it was a civilian he wasn’t able to save,” she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “Oh God…”

Quietly, she choked out another question. “Was it…was he talking about…you?”

You didn’t want to reply. You’d heard enough.

The lady didn’t try to stop you as you ran to the elevator, your fingertip pressing the “up” button so hard it bruised.

Quickly looking at the directory, you found his office.

“420.” You choked out a pained laugh. “He always did like messing around with people.”

Collapsing against the corner of the elevator, you wrapped your arms around your knees and lowered your head. You felt so goddamn tired.

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn’t he break someone else’s heart?

Someone who was stronger?

Someone who could take this in stride and move on?

Why did the universe choose you?

The elevator bell dinged, rousing you from your thoughts. You stood up slowly, a trail of blood staining the place where you once sat.

Crimson, like the trail of feathers he’d (perhaps intentionally) shed during that game of hide and seek.

You buried your face into your hands.

Goddamnit, Keigo! Why does everything have to remind me of you?

You made your way into his office, most likely the messiest of all the top pro-hero offices. Paperwork was scattered everywhere, jackets strewn across the floor. You even saw a shoelace string laying on the carpet next to his desk.

It’s almost as if he’d always expected to come back.

Stepping cautiously over the objects that littered the ground, you came face-to-face with a cabinet next to his desk.

Snowglobes. So many snowglobes.

Snowglobes occupied every shelf of the cabinet, and the glass doors made it easy to examine the contents.

You squinted closely at them. They were all…different angles of the same scene, you realized.

The snow park above your houses.

He’d had snowglobes made.

They immortalized the place where the two of you played all day in the snow.

The place where he first learned how to fly, gliding off the hills like a paraglider.

The place where he’d picked you up and learned how to fly with another person’s life in his hands, hugging you close to his chest, reveling in your warmth.

In the spring, it was the place where he took you on your first picnic date.

The place where the two of you shared your first kiss.

The place where he left you his goodbye note, tucked away under the grounding weight of a boulder you used to lay on, basking in the sun’s warmth.

He’d had 12 snowglobes made. Your lucky number.

12 different angles that showcased the same scenery.

Suddenly, your legs wouldn’t carry your weight anymore. You leaned back into his chair, still smelling faintly of his scent.

How can someone’s scent not change over 13 years?

You closed your eyes, and quickly opened them again when you saw a pile of letters on the corner of the desk.

You weren’t sure why they caught your eye. They weren’t anything special, really. Plain white envelopes addressed in plain black print.

You took a closer look.

That was your name on the envelopes.

You leaned closer, quickly shuffling through them all.

Each and every single one of them was addressed to you.

Each and every single one of them was dated a year apart.

Each and every single one of them was marked for your various addresses over the years, his handwriting steadily improving.

You couldn’t resist your curiosity. Taking a paper cutter, you tore through the seal of the earliest envelope.

A single red feather, beautifully preserved, floated out.

You stared in shock. He…he didn’t forget.

He never forgot.

He just chose not to send it.

Hurriedly opening the remaining envelopes, you acquired more feathers, each fresher than the last.

By the end, you had a pile of 13 crimson feathers, right next to 13 shredded envelopes.

You looked around, confused. Why hadn’t he left a note? Any note?

Did he…did he never write letters?

You knew that you had sent him letters.

Maybe they did throw them out as spam.

Your curiosity piqued, you pulled open drawer after drawer, but none of them held anything of personal importance.

Finally, you came upon the bottom right drawer.

It was locked, you realized.

You carefully place the feathers back in their respective envelopes. Sealing them up once again, you carry them in a stack, making your way downstairs.

The agency workers saw you with the letters in your arms, not sure if they should stop you or not. When you looked to the receptionist and murmured a quiet “thank you”, they stood their ground. If she was okay with you walking away like this, then there shouldn’t be a reason that they wouldn’t be.

The taxi driver who took you here was still waiting outside. Seeing you arrive, he stomped out his cigarette butt and opened the backseat door for you.

“Rough night, miss?” He looked at your back, pity obvious in his expression. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital with that?”

You shook your head. “They can’t fix that. Do you remember the way we came?”

“Aye, yes I do,” he stepped into his own seat. “I’ll take you there right quick, miss. Don’t you worry.”

As you rode back home in silence, you couldn’t stop thinking about the cabinet in Keigo’s office.

The feathers, folded away safely in the envelopes you were holding.

If he never forgot, why did he never reach out?

The car door slamming shook you from your daze. “Miss, you’re back home.”

You stared at the man, realizing that you didn’t have your wallet on you.

“Do you mind waiting a second? I’ll go get my wallet now–”

He shook his head. “I know where that blood came from. See here?” He rolled up his sleeve.

“Got mine when I was 22,” a melancholy smile framed his face. “Rare, right? I never did find out who she was.

But the hospital staff helped me that day. Looked for deaths around my age, and then when I tried to pay ‘em, they refused. Said ‘twas only the right thing to do. Now I finally get to repay the favor. Don’t you go tryna pay me now. Won’t ‘ccept it.”

He leaned back against the hood of his car. When you opened your mouth to object, he merely saluted you, hopped back into the driver’s seat, and drove off into the night.

You turned to your house. The lights were still on inside, meaning your husband was still up. He probably couldn’t sleep, not after what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him.

Stepping inside, you heard muffled sobs coming from the kitchen.

“Masaki?” You leaned on the doorframe. He looked up at your voice.

“(Y/N)?” He rose from the table. “You’re…you’re okay,” he wrapped you in a hug.

You cleared your throat. “…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you hugged him back.

I’m okay, you tried to convince yourself.

“Where did you go?” He looked at you curiously. Finally seeing the envelopes in your arms, he paused.

“Babe?” He asked softly. “Did you…did you know him?”

You buried your face into his chest. “Yeah…yeah, I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

“Not really…not now…” you replied.

He patted your back lightly. “That’s ok. I understand.”

The rest of the night went by in a blur. The letters were scattered on your nightstand, your husband helping you into the shower. He’s changed the bloody sheets already, but the stains on the mattress were stubborn and refused to come out.

Crimson stains, in the shape of wings.

Days later, some people from the agency stopped by your house.

“Is there a (Y/N) (Y/L/N) at this address?” The receptionist from your earlier encounter knocked on the door.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, that’s me,” you answered, not bothering to change out of your bathrobe. Your complexion had grown waxen, face shallow. Your hair formed an unkempt nest, spiraling around your face.

She gave you a smile, pity etched in her face. It disgusted you, really.

All anyone ever gave you nowadays was pity. Pity cards from your coworkers, although you weren’t sure how the information leaked out. Pitiful glances from your husband, who insisted on doing all the chores around the house.

Pity, pity, pity.

“What is it?” You asked her.

“We have some…documents for you.” She waved over two guys, each lugging a large crate of…paper?

“Wait…all that? For me?” You were confused. There was no way that that bottom drawer, even if all it contained were letters, had that much paper in it.

“Yes, (Y/L/N)-san. It’s all for you.” The men dropped off their crates at your door.

“What’s going on?”

“These were stored in the records house. Hawks filed them. They were all addressed to you, so we felt that this was the proper treatment.”

“We’ll leave you to go through these in your own time.” She started down the steps. Then, as if remembering something suddenly, she paused.

“You know…he was a good man,” she smiled gently. “We all knew he had a secret someone. We just didn’t know who they were. I’m glad he found you. Hero work is dangerous, especially for top heroes like him.

I hope that you find joy in those letters.” She turned back and finished her journey down the steps.

You turned around and looked at the crates.

Found me?

You smiled bitterly, a brittle coldness taking over your heart.

He never really did find me, did he?

Sighing, you sorted through the crates, looking for the ones that were dated the earliest. You carried the oldest set of letters into the bedroom and tore open the first envelope.

Hey, (Y/N). It’s me, Kei.

I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I mean, I’m not an easy person to forget, I suppose, but it has been a while. Three years, to be exact.

Three years can do a lot to a person.

I should know.

How are you doing? I hope you managed to keep Timothy alive. You were always prone to overwatering him.

I’m not sure how long cacti live, but…if you nurture something, anything can happen, right?

I’m a hero now. I’m sure you know. My debut was broadcasted all over national television. They just can’t resist making themselves look good, can they?

At least now I’m allowed to write. I hope you understand why I haven’t written to you in so long.

I didn’t forget about you. How could I? Even though we were only 15, how could I forget someone like you?

I missed you. I don’t think you understand how much. It felt so empty, living without you by my side. Like…like I wasn’t ever warm enough, even bundled in the tightest blankets. I was always missing you.

Sounds like a curse, eh?

But don’t worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wanted you to know that.

Yours, Kei.

Ripping open letter after letter, you realized that you held his entire life story in your hands.

Hey chicken. It’s Kei again.

Realized I’ve been treating these letters as a kind of diary. I guess it’s…therapeutic? Even though I know I’ll never send these. I don’t want to put you in danger, you know?

Do you remember when we were kids?

We had all the time in the world to do whatever we wanted.

I miss that time.

Not as much as I miss you though.

I check in on you every so often, but I make sure you never see.

False hope is a dangerous thing. It shatters your soul into pieces, and when you try and piece them back together, it cuts your heart so badly you wish you’d never started.

But, you see, you’re like a drug for me.

I can’t seem to stop myself. No matter how bad it hurts, I…I still come back.

You wouldn’t know, of course.

I suppose there’s a reason it hurts when you stare into the sun.

I’m already broken, yeah? I don’t want you to break with me.

The thing is, I know you’d want to. I know we promised we’d always come back for each other. We promised we’d always be here for each other.

But some promises were meant to be broken.

You can’t be here for me, birdie. You’ll get hurt.

That would hurt me more than anything else, (Y/N).

So for my own safety, and yours…

This is the last time I’ll write to you.

I have to move on, or else those pieces of my soul?

They’re already in splinters, but if I keep going like this, they’ll be nothing more than powder, and I don’t think I could go on like that, yeah?

I love you, forever and always.

Kei.

Ha. Guess what.

What I said in the last letter?

A fucking lie.

I physically. Can’t stop.

The thought of not writing to you breaks me more than the thought of never being with you, and that’s a milestone I never thought I’d be able to pass.

So here I am again.

You’ve already heard my entire life story.

I wish I could be there to hear yours.

I saw you tonight, standing on your balcony. You know, the stars were so bright tonight. Reminded me of your eyes the first time I flew with you around the whole field, yeah?

Sparkling. You never stop sparkling, do you?

You know…do you ever wonder who your soulmate is?

I know that the world is cruel. I know that we don’t know exactly who our soulmates are until one of us dies.

But…do you ever think about it?

Who’s out there, just waiting for you?

Because I do.

And sometimes, when I’m at rock bottom, I’ll imagine that we’re soulmates.

I’ll create scenarios in my head. We’d be happily married. I’d spoon-feed you ice cream.

We’d play tickle wars with my feathers, have pillow fights, binge TV shows.

We’d watch horror movies, and you’d hide your face in my chest the whole time.

But…those scenarios always make me feel worse after I wake up. Because they’re not real.

And I…I so desperately want them to be real.

But you can’t always get what you wish for, yeah?

Going on a big mission soon. Undercover. Cool, right?

You’d be proud of me, I think, if you saw me.

I have to go now. But I’ll come back safe for you, yeah?

I know you won’t wait for me. I want you to wait for me, but…I know it’s not in your best interests. Probably not in mine either.

Sometimes I try and convince myself that it’s okay to be selfish. I want what I want, and you only live once, right?

But then I realize that you’re the one I’d be putting in danger.

And that’s when I realize you can’t ever stay with me.

It’s okay. I’ll watch from afar.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you.

Yours,

Kei.

You put the letter down and rummaged through the second crate, desperately trying to find the last letter that he wrote.

Hey birdie. Long time no see. Ha.

13 years and I still can’t forget about you. Doesn’t seem normal, does it?

I’m convinced that we’re soulmates, but then again, I may have convinced myself. You know…I used to hate the idea of soulmates. Sharing your life with another person, seen as incomplete without them?

Sharing my soul?

Bunch of crap, right? I like making my own decisions. Wasn’t ever much of a rule-stickler. But…you know…I’m starting to warm up to that idea.

But only with you.

And that’s why I’m convinced that we are, in fact, soulmates.

You don’t know how my heart breaks every time I see you. Manual is a good guy. I know he’s treating you well.

That’s the only reason I’m letting you stay married to him, really. If it was anyone else, I would’ve busted their ass.

But…you deserve someone like him. Someone who can give you their all.

Someone who, if you date them…they won’t lead you into danger.

Soulmates are a finicky concept, yeah?

So…I guess we’ll never know ‘till one of us dies.

Yours,

Kei.

Epilogue

Rainy winter days were the saddest days of the year.

Especially today.

Strolling through the park, you held a black umbrella in one hand and clutched a glass case tightly in the other.

You stopped in front of a marble headstone.

“Hey there,” your voice cracked.

“Miss me?”

A whistling wind, scattering powdered snow and frozen rain across the landscape, was your only answer.

“Kei, I–” You collapsed onto your knees, uncaring of whether or not the cold would seep in. It couldn’t get colder than your soul now, anyways.

“I…I didn’t go to your funeral.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving a silvery sheen in their wake. “There were too many people and I…I couldn’t handle it.”

“But…Kei…” You choked out an ugly sob. “Why didn’t you send me the fucking letters?”

“I don’t care how dangerous your work was. You can’t get anywhere without taking risks in life, Kei!” You screamed at the marble façade, willing it to crumble.

“You can’t–”

“You can’t make my decisions for me!”

“I should be the one who gets to choose who I love!”

Your screams attracted the attention of several bystanders, who quickly averted their eyes and walked away when they saw your distraught state.

“You shouldn’t have tried to choose for me!”

“And now–”

“You’re dead, Kei! What am I supposed to do now?” Your tears pooled on the frozen ground, marking little dents in the snow.

You slammed your fists into the ground, the glass case in your hand cracking.

Another ugly sob made its way out.

“Kei–” you whimpered.

The glass shattered, splintering into thousands of tiny pieces, each fragment glittering like diamonds.

Slivers found their way into your palm.

Crimson blood, the color of the worn-out feather freed from its enclosure, splattered the snow-white ground.

“Kei,” you whispered, carefully placing the feather on top of the chiseled marble.

“Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy.”

Masterlist

[sunshineandbnha]

Unexpected - Denki x reader (Valentine’s Day)

Word count: 3,978

Warnings: none, aside from a case of “Did not edit, just finished this this morning”

A/n: HOW DID THIS END UP SO LONG?? I swear, I started it with the idea and intention that it would be 1.4k or 1.9k words. How did I accidentally write two thousand more words? Anyway, I hope this is a good valentine fic for Denki boy. I thought of it due to a prompt on tumblr. If I can later remember who it was who made it, I will edit this and have a link to that post.

Edit: Found it. The prompt was made by @love-me-a-good-prompt

~

When was it you started to look at him differently?

"Hey!"

You looked over your shoulder to find Kaminari making his way past several students in the cafeteria to get to you. You turned your body to face him. Though, you felt awkward about still holding your lunchtray, as if it was a barrier between you and him.

"Do you got a date for tomorrow?" he asked with a grin.

Your heart gave a weep at the reminder of Valentine's day. As if the hearts and commercials all over the place weren't enough. "What do you think?"

"Just checking." He dashed to get his lunch tray he had set down, and sped walked to your side as you picked a table to sit at.

Kaminari had been your friend for several months. One day you had simply overheard him talking about a manga, the same one you had read, and you jumped into the conversation. After that, the both of you became easy friends, and frequently had lunch at the same table.

"Why would you even ask?” You slid into a seat at the table. “You know there's no one I'm really interested in."

"Except for fictional characters," he added while getting into his own chair across from you.

"Yeah. Unfortunately they aren't available for me to ask out."

He leaned back in his seat. “We’re really missing out on these things. I thought by the time I was in high school training to be a cool hero, I would have tons of girls who like me by now.”

“And I, for some reason, thought I would magically manifest a special someone. But that’s clearly not happening anytime soon.” You stared down while absent mindedly stirring your food.

He suddenly sat straight and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. The kind that told you he had an idea. "What if we did all of that classy Valentine's day stuff together?"

"I think you meant cliche."

"Banana, ba- ... oh wait, that's not how the saying goes."

You let out a large laugh and nearly choked on your food.

"Something with tomatoes or potatoes," he continued with a wave of his hand as if throwing away the topic. "Well, what do you think? You wanna do it?"

"You just want the chocolate, don't you?"

"No! I would never!" He waved his arms around. "... Well, that too."

"I knew it!" You lifted your fork/chopstick of food into air in triumph. "Just make sure you get my favorite chocolate once White Day rolls around."

"Sure thing!" He gave a thumbs up. "I'm sure I can get enough money by then!"

"You've been using all of it on manga and snacks again, haven't you?"

"What else would I use it on?"

"Okay. Just don't use the money for my chocolate on manga."

"If I did, It would be a great manga and be worth a lot more than some chocolate. Actually, that should be a thing. Instead of getting girls chocolate, get them manga! And we should get manga too. ... So, are we doing it?" he asked when he paused long enough to think.

"I don't know,” you shrugged while taking another bite.

He slammed his hand on the table. "But you said it like you did! I just agreed to get you chocolate next month!"

"I was saying if I agreed. If I agreed then you would have to get me chocolate.” You internally laughed at his response.

Kaminari slumped in his chair. "Okay, but my point is, how long have we been single? And it doesn't look like it's going to change anytime soon, so I was thinking why not we experience some of it while we're still in high school?"

"Hmmm," you tapped your finger against your lip. "Well, you have a point. And I guess I got nothing better to do tomorrow."

“So it’s a yes?” his eyes lit up.

“I guess so.”

“Yes!” He jumped up and some heads turned towards him. “I got a—!”

You hastily pulled him back down and got a hold of his ear. He yelped in pain before you shushed him. The attention he had gained was beginning to die down after doing that, much to your relief. You released a small puff of air, grateful that you didn’t feel like you were in a spotlight anymore.

“Kaminari,” you whispered into his ear, an edge present in your voice, “Don’t go announcing it to the world, especially if it’s not an actual date. Do not ruin it for me.”

You let go, and he got out of the awkward position of being pulled half way onto the table. Thankfully, he hadn’t landed in his food when you pulled him down. He settled back in his chair and rubbed his ear.

“Okay! You can count on me!”

 Maybe it was a bad idea to suddenly agree when that meant you had to make chocolate for him that night. You already had some chocolate you bought from the store for family and friends. One of those giri chocos was originally going to be his, but now you would have to actually make him honmei choco if you were going to have the whole Valentine's Day experience. You considered skipping on that for a brief second, but you had already agreed to do it. Plus, you weren't sure if you would ever get to do this during high school at this rate. And you wanted to at least have done it once.

You'd have to run to the store to get better quality chocolate, a cute wrap for it, and a heart shaped mold. In order to save time, you went directly to the nearest store after school. It would save time, which you didn't have much of it. You didn't know how long it would take to make them, and you wanted some extra time in case you make a mistake and had to do something over again.

It was more crowded than you thought. You also didn't realize how many stares you would get just for being in your U.A. uniform. Thankfully, everything you needed was there and you made your way to the counter to pay. As you were weaving your way through the people, you thought you saw another student. You did a double take. Uniform. Pink skin. Ashido.

You tried to duck and hide, but it was too late.

"Oh, hey!" She waved you down and ran to you. A bag of purchased goods was hanging from her arm. "What are you doing here? Are you getting last minute giri choco too!"

“I, uh.”

“Hey, isn't that stuff to make chocolate? Wait a second… OMG! Who’s the lucky person!”

You nervously held the items close to you. This was why you didn't want her seeing you. "No one, really. I'm just... making it for the experience." You put a smile onto your face and did your best to make the last half of the sentence sound cheery.

It wasn't technically a lie. You just hoped she bought it. Because if she kept prying and learned it was for Kaminari, you would never hear the end of it.

"Okay. Can I have some when you're done?" She joked and bumped your arm with her elbow.

"Only if I didn't eat it all first." You internally high fived yourself for the quick reply.

"Okay. Well, see you at U.A." She waved before dashing out the door.

"Bye!" You watched her go. When she was out of view, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding.

 You stood nervously in the park. You wore a Valentine Day themed outfit you had put together, with the help of some ideas from the internet. It was 5:45 pm, the time you agreed on meeting. You had honestly expected him to be slightly late. Though it did nothing to make your feel less jittery.

There were quite a few people who also had the same idea of going to the park. Some friends playing Frisbee. A family walking by. And some couples. You scanned the area for him, multiple times, but still couldn't see him.

Why were you even so worried? This was your friend. It’s not like it was an actual date with someone you liked. If he forgot or something, you could just chew him out later. Then that 'what if' situation made you sick to your stomach and you forced yourself to stop thinking about it.

"Hey!"

You head turned up within a split second and you saw him. He wore a dark blue button up shirt. This plus his smile and hair... somehow made him look nice. A smile spread on your face, yet your nerves didn't completely calm down just yet.

"Hey!" You greeted back.

"You look nice," he commented.

"You too." You nodded. "So, what were you planning on doing first?"

"I thought we'd walk around here first, then go to this one restaurant. And after that we can wander around shops." he shrugged.

"Okay, sounds nice." You began walking side by side with him.

Your brain tried to sabotage the moment by beginning to make you feel awkward. You did your best to push it away. But were you supposed to be walking in silence? Or talking?

"You wanna hold hands?" He offered.

"Hmm," you joking held your finger to your lip in deep thought. "I think no."

"Oh, come on!" He acted upset, but there was a big grin on his face.

You laughed and he joined in. A few more jokes were thrown back and forth as you passed trees and other people. Though within a seemingly short amount of time, the conversation hit dead end. You pulled on your sleeve and look in any direction but him.

"Okay, this is getting boring,” he said. “Can we go to the restaurant now?”

"Lucky for you, I think we're almost at the end of the park, and I'm hungry."

“Yes!” he cheered. “They always make walking through the park look more fun in the movies.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a laugh.

Kaminari led you to the place he picked out. Well, more like he tried to go there, then got lost and had to give up on relying on his memory. He made the brilliant move of pulling out his phone, setting the location on his map app, and he following it. But you both realized that he had gotten the point where you going mixed up with your location.  This resulted in having to backtrack and ignoring your growling stomach as it took even longer to get there.

Finally, you found it. You entered through door with him. Inside were tables placed around a large circle. The conveyor belt had several plates of food with different types of sushi and other dishes. The chiefs in the middle of the circle conveyor worked hard to keep the food coming. Almost every table was filled.

“Aw, man. We should have gotten here earlier,” Kaminari grabbed your hand. “C’mon.”

You both ran until you spotted a free table and slide in. It took a second to catch your breath after the sudden sprint. Sitting in the chair, you looked around more closely. It was a nice place. There were people chattering, some clanking of plates, and mouth watering food slowly passing by you. You reached up to begin to grab one, but then you stopped yourself.

"Wait, am I paying for myself or where you...?"

"You can have whatever you want. My treat," he replied with a ish eating grin. Probably meant that he thought what he just said was very cool.

You laughed to yourself and picked one and he did the same. It was good. You were pleasantly surprised, though you weren't sure why. Maybe it was because he had only learned of the restaurant while looking up ones online to take you to. And it was only yesterday that you agreed. Then again, you had made honmei choco the other night...

You suddenly remembered something and nearly choked on your sushi roll.

"You okay?" Kaminari said, unfortunately dismissing any hope you had that he didn't notice.

"No, I'm good. I just need to make a phone call. One second." You excused yourself and walked outside while pulling out your phone.

It was an uncomfortable change to suddenly be greeted by the chilly February air. Was it really that cold when you  were with Kaminari? You dialed your mom's number and resisted the urge to pace.

As soon as you heard the other end being picked up, you began. "Mom, I need you to get something for me. If you look in the kitchen, somewhere on the counter is where I left a bag of chocolate for Valentine's day. Can you bring that to me?" You had been so busy trying to get ready and be on time, that you had accidentally left the honmei choco you made.

"Uhh, okay. But where are you? It’ll be awfully hard to give it to you if I don’t know where you are."

"In a little bit I should be..." you tried to think of a good point to meet up, "near Takoba Municipal Beach Park. Probably close to that one gazebo. I'll text you that so you don't forget after I hang up."

"Okay. I hope you appreciate this. I really don't feel like going all the way out there to give you something you forgot."

"If I could go back and un-forget it, I would. Thank you. Bye."

With that, the call ended. You took a deep breath to calm your heart, which seemed to think forgetting chocolate was a catastrophic event, and went back inside.

When you caught sight of Kaminari again he was dunking a chunk of seaweed and fish into soy sauce, before shoving it into his already full mouth. He stopped  and paused upon seeing you. He chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could and finished by the time you sat back down.

"So, what was that about?" he started it off as a joke, but his voice seemed shaky for whatever reason.

"I just forgot something and asked Mom to go get it for me." Technically wasn't a lie.

"Oh, okay." He began eating more. He started counting the plates and you could see his face pale a tad.

"Is everything alright for you?"

"Huh? I mean, yeah, everything's great." He smiled at you.

You shrugged and focused your gaze on the conveyor belt. A particularly delicious looking morsel. It was clearly more expensive, with a nice layer of tuna in it. You reached out your hand, considering getting it when you saw Kaminari flinch at your action.

You turned to him. "Do I need to pay for my own meal?"

"No, no," he tried to retain the coolness he built up, "I can pay."

You sighed. "No, you are not going broke because of expensive fish."

"But, that's not-"

"What? It's not cool? Denki- oops.” You realized you accidentally used his given name.

His face turned the slightest bit pink, though you hardly even noticed in your own embarrassment. “That’s fine. You can call me Denki. We’ve known each other long enough.”

“Thanks,” you nodded and continued, “Denki, you are my friend," why did the word 'friend' leave a different taste this time 'round? "and I don't want you doing something stupid because you think it makes you look cool."

He struggled to make a comeback and ended up blurting out, "Doing something stupid that makes me look cool defines me."

"Look, let's split the bill between us, that way you pay for some of mine, but you don't spend up the money for the chocolate you promised me."

"Wait, you didn't care about me, you just wanted to make sure you still got chocolate." He faked an offended expression.

You exhaled a laugh. "Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you feel better. As long as you agree."

"Fine."

"But don't purposefully buy more just because I'm offering to pay half."

"Can't make any promises~"

"You little-"

Eventually, you became full enough, or rather reached the maximum to what you were willing to pay. Then you left. You blinked when you stepped out. You hadn’t expected it to become this dark. Kaminari began walking off, probably to some store or the mall, but you grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Is it alright if we stop by the beach?"

His eyes lit up, like the stars in the sky. "Great idea! That'd be much more romantic."

You expected to roll your eyes, but what you found was your face growing warm and your mouth being lost for words. Thankfully, he didn't notice and just started running for the beach, pulling you along. Buildings loomed over you in the dark, until they finally cleared and the beach came into view. The sea seemed to become the night sky. It gently washed over the sand in a rhymic pattern. The sound of it filled your ears and your senses listened. A sense of calmness washed over you.

You both walked up to the gate that separated the beach from the road. Kaminari leaned against the metal gate, resting on his arms. The two of you stared at the view in a comfortable silence.

“Wow, this is nice,” he commented.

“Yeah.” There was a weird feeling, somewhat reminiscent to a flutter or squeeze, in your chest. Something that made the moment seem more magical. You could almost feel this feeling rising and beginning to climb up your throat.

More silence, then a movement caught your attention out the corner of your eye. Your mom was waving to you and held a small bag that slightly reflected in the small amount of light there was.

“One second, I need to go get something,” you let him know and ran to your mom. “Thank you so much.”

“Just don’t make this a habit,” she handed it to you. Then she glanced to where Kaminari was and squinted. “Is that your date? Is that why you were making chocolate?”

“No,” your voice came out more unsure for some reason, “well, I… was just making that for myself. This is just giri choco.”

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Don’t stay out much longer.”

“I won’t.” You quickly ran back. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Hey. What was that about?”

“Noting important,” you shrugged and leaned on the gate. “Oh, and here.” You held the bag out to him, trying to act cool and nonchalant, but you knew you had a big smirk on your face.

He gasped and snatched it out of your hold. He wrestled with the bag, trying to get it open. Once he succeeded, he looked inside. A big smile spread across his face and he pulled it out. He held a large chocolate heart on a stick, almost like a lollipop. You thought that would be fun to make. Of course, now that he held it, you could see all the tiny imperfections. Like where a small air bubble had been, or how some chocolate had gotten on the stick. But Kaminari didn’t seem to care at all. He stared at it in awe. Like he had just been given something he wanted for years.

“Wow! Wait, did your mom just give this to you? Did you forget?” he looked over to you.

“What, no, I would never…” you laughed nervously. “But I did make it. You better like it, or else,” you joked.

“I’m sure I will! Wow. You made this?”

“Yep. Last night.”

“Thank you!” He took a bite out of it and began happily chewing.

You smiled. Your eyes locked onto the gazebo on the beach. It looked really nice. The thought of you being in it made you want to go even more. Currently there was a couple there, but then they walked out and started going down the beach. Your eyes lit up.

You looked to Kaminari, tugged on his sleeve, and pointed to the now empty location.

He grinned. “I think I know what you’re thinking and I think we should do it too.”

With a couple of small laughs you both hurried down to the beach was fast as you could. The sand made you slow your pace into a walk, but you didn’t mind. The sea air on you felt refreshing, chilling your skin. The moon was beautiful and the water reflected slivers of the moonlight that danced.

"It looks really nice." You smiled.

"Yeah... wanna hold hands?" He offered his free hand to you.

To your surprise, this actually sounded nice. And to your greater surprise, you accepted. Your hand slipped in his perfectly. Almost like it found its home. The second you skin touched, it was like electricity ran through you and jump started your heart. You were about to ask if he was using his quirk, but quickly realized that it didn't feel exactly like electricity. But the strange feeling in your heart continued. You couldn't tell if it felt nice or if you wanted it to go away.

Your feet kept sinking in the sand until you reached the pier and had to get used to walking on concrete again. You made your way to the roof on the end of the pier, hand in hand. You stood by the edge. Staring at the water.

Kaminari took the last bite. “That was delicious.”

“Thanks.”

“So…” he looked around. He put the stick back into the bag and placed it in his pocket. “Wanna dance?”

Instead of your usual joking reply, you felt flustered, but shyly accepted. He pulled out his phone and started some music up. You put your hand in his and the other on his shoulder. He held you by the waist. You tried to regulate your breathing and calm down. The two of you began spinning in time with the music. He twirled you around. You even did that one move you would see in movies. When you’d spin out, like a door opening, while still holding his hand. The he’d pull you back to him. It all felt simple, and fun.

Right as the fourth song was ending, you had an overwhelming urge to ask him something. “Umm,” then you stopped yourself when you realized exactly what it was you actually wanted to ask. But why did it feel like it was rising out of your throat, desperately wanting to be said.

“Yeah?” he looked at you. His yellow eyes made you feel like melting, an effect they never had up until that point.

“I… it was nothing.”

“Really?”

“No.” You cursed yourself for automatically saying the truth.

 “Then what is it?” He looked at you more intently.

Your mind was doing somersaults trying to figure out what to do or say. “Date, please,” you blurted out.

“Huh?”

“Well, um.” You really wished you had kept your mouth shut. You stared down and said in the most quiet voice possible, “I think maybe I kinda like you and maybe, kinda, want to go on a real date with you. Maybe? If you’d be fine with that, maybe.”

“Wait,” he stepped back as if in surprise. “You. Want to date… me?”

Your face was burning to the point you wanted to stick into the water like an ostrich. “Yes?”

He threw his arms in the air and jumped around. “Yes! I got an actual date! I’m finally dating someone! They said I couldn’t do it!”

“You don’t need to announce it to the whole world.” You laughed.

“Well, you are m—”

“I swear, if you say finish with ‘my world’ I will knock you over the head.”

He let out a big laugh. “Why? You don’t want to be my world?”

His laughter was contagious. “No, it’s cheesy, and this literally just happened a minute ago.”

You both started to walk back, and hardly even noticed when your hands slipped perfectly into one another.