#and youre busy going on acting as if its alright to doubt that certain type of people exist

[dyketubbo]

girl help my silly post that got some attention not only has a typo but has also found its way on a blog of someone whose ideologies i fundamentally disagree with

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

hiii!!! can i request a hange x reader fic where they are having a being intimate or having a moment and Levi walks in. and is like wtf. but praises hange on their choice of women? ( could you use a mix of they and she for hange please!)

Absolutely!

I just know Levi would be the type to act disgusted, but internally he's actually really happy for Hange that they finally found somebody :')

Quickly

(Zoe Hange x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: None

Category: Fluff, a little smut but they get caught lmao

Summary: Hange is busy doing work when their S/O comes to visit them, so they let them stay for a bit. But, as soon as they get to fooling around, Hange realizes they forgot to lock the door.

Words: 1.9K

"Knock knock."

You push the door to Hange's office open casually, not even waiting for any sort of confirmation from them that you were allowed in—after all, Hange never said 'no' to any of your visits. It was essentially your office too now, since she had given you a spare key to "come over whenever you'd like and for whatever reason you'd like". You understood the implications of what she was saying, but pushed the thought to the back of your mind, accepting the key graciously.

"Ah, hello Y/n." Their voice echoed through the room, their back turned as she fiddled with some equipment and papers on her desk, working vigorously as usual. You shut the door behind you, stretching your arms above your head as you strolled over to your lover.

Your arms wrapped around her waist from behind the second you got close enough, burying your head in their neck—a cheeky way of getting their attention that never once failed.

"Baby, I'm working." She chuckled in mock protest, but based off of how quickly they dropped their tools and looked up from their papers, you doubted she was planning on stopping you.

"I know," You breathe against her neck, slowly and meticulously luring them further and further from her work. "But I missed you~."

"What do you want?" Hange suddenly asked. It wasn't in annoyance, but a genuine question. "Do you want something in particular?"

You sat there silently against her shoulder for a moment, pondering. What did you come here for? Mostly, you were just bored and lonely—stable duty wasn't the most appealing job—but you didn't have anything planned when you came over.

"I dunno..." You mumble. "Just wanted to see you..."

Hange chuckled, freeing herself from your grasp and turning to face you. "That's fine." They say, hooking their arms around your lower back to pull you up, and you wrap your legs around her waist as she starts walking.

After a few seconds, she'd sat down, and you heard the distinct scratching of the chair against the floor as she scooted forward. You were in their lap now, body pressed up against hers so closely that you could feel the rise and fall of their chest with each steady breath. They'd already scooted the chair up as close to their work desk as they could, and even your lower back was pressed semi-uncomfortably against her wooden desk, you didn't mind at all. Your legs were to either side of her, and you faced the back wall blankly.

"We can stay like this for a while." She muttered, her left hand slowly rubbing up and down your back while her right picked up the pen and started to fill out the stack of paperwork on her desk. You chuckled—Hange's inability to pry themselves from their work was evident as always.

You settled down, your breaths leveling to slow, easy pace as you buried your head in the crook of her neck, finding deep solace and tranquility in her embrace. Your eyes shut against her, and you slowly breathed in their scent. It was very distinct—somewhat musky, yet also smelling of ink and fresh paper. The tension evaporated from your muscles as you sunk further into them, the warmth of their body and the gentle rhythm of their heartbeat lulling you to sleep in her arms.

After a certain amount of time—you weren't quite sure how long—something stirred you awake, and a groan involuntarily left your lips as your eyes peeled open.

You were still in the chair, and in Hange's embrace, but the sound of pen on paper had ceased, and you could only assume that they had finished their a while back.

Her face was now pressed into your shoulder, and both of her hands had snaked under your shirt and onto the bare skin of your back. If you didn't know better, you'd assume she was asleep, but you heard a soft chuckle pass your lover's lips, the exhalation brushing warm air against the nape of your neck.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Are my hands too cold?" She spoke gently and quietly, a stark contrast to her usually loud tone. She didn't want to bother you with her usual loudness immediately after you had woken up.

"Now that you mention it, a little." You mumble, closing your eyes in a vain attempt at getting more rest.

"Sorry. Here, I'll move them." They make good on their words, removing their hands from yours and moving them up to your head, pulling it up from her shoulder. She cups your face in her hands, one side in each palm, and pulls you towards her face for a chaste kiss on the lips.

Finally starting to wake up, you move your lips back to hers after a moments hesitation. They return the kiss eagerly, hands moving to your shoulders, squeezing them lightly. Their lips are warm and soft against yours. Perhaps a little chapped, but you had long gotten used to the feeling.

Teasingly, Hange moves her hands down, letting them slink to your waist, purposefully dragging of the sides of your breasts on the way down. Their tongue left their mouth, dragging up your bottom lip teasingly.

You pull away in shock, wiping the small trail of saliva connecting the two. "H-Hange—!"

They lean their head back, letting out a hearty laugh. "Sorry, I just wanted to see what you would do!"

Despite playing it off as a joke, her hands never left your hips. In fact, their grip only tightened.

"Unless..." She teased, hands slowly riding up, causing your shirt to rise and expose your stomach. "You want to keep going?"

A pink tint rises to your cheeks as your shirt continued to rise up your stomach, Hange's eyes shamelessly staring down at your exposed skin, thoroughly enjoying the view.

"Hange~," You whined, squirming under their grasp and trying in vain to fight off the tingle in the pit of your stomach. "We're on duty, stop being horny!" You laughed, causing Hange to giggle as well.

"What's the harm in it? I've down my work, and so have you... You locked the door on the way in, you nobody'll catch us anyway. I'll be quick about it~..."

You sighed, debating on whether it's really worth it. After all, captain Levi would surely chew you out for it if he caught you and Hange getting frisky. But the door was locked, so you decided it would be alright. Just this once.

"Fine..." You sigh, "Just be quick about it."

Hange's eyes lit up with excitement at your permission, immediately pulling your shirt up, not taking it off completely, but pulling it up enough to expose your breasts, still hidden by your bra.

Hange's lips went to your chest almost instantly, peppering the area with brief kisses. Her hand slunk lower, cupping your crotch in her hand, causing you to hiss in a breath of air.

Her lips detach from your chest with a pop, smirking at you before moving up to gaze at your face—flushed and slight sweating from arousal.

She swooped in to kiss you, lips connecting with yours and moving against each other passionately. Slowly, but deliberately, her hand moved up and down, grinding against your clit through your clothing, making you squirm with impatience.

You whimpered quietly, the sound being muffled by Hange's mouth against yours. The two of you separated for a very brief moment, breathing heavily as saliva connected your lips, before you dove right back in, kissing more fervently than before.

Finally, you two pulled away, catching your breaths amongst the grips of passion. Panting, you put your forehead to theirs, smiling against her.

"I love you Hange." You exhaled, your warm breath teasing Hange's wet and parted lips.

"I love you too." She panted, emphasizing her point by grinding her hand against you a bit more forcefully this time, the pleasure causing you to moan quietly, spurring Hange on. "So hurry up and take your pants off."

You obey immediately, almost as if your body was moving on its own, unzipping your pants, preparing to slide out of them until a subtle noise behind you caught your attention. You turned your head in confusion, and your eyes widened at the sight of captain Levi, clearly unamused, in the doorway.

"L-Levi... Hi!" You sputter, fumbling desperately with the zipper of your pants in a desperate attempt to play off the situation. But it was too late, the damage had already been done.

Levi stared for a moment, his usual dead, unamused face ever so prominent. Finally, after a silence that felt like eternity, he sighed, stepping towards the desk.

He plopped down a stack on papers on Hange's desk, causing a few loose papers to blow from her desktop and onto the floor.

"You're on duty, Hange. You too, Y/n." He deadpans. "Now is not the time nor the place to be doing... this."

You look to the side out of embarrassment, pulling your shirt back down as you refused to meet his eye.

"Hange, Erwin needs these filled out by next week. Stop fooling around with Y/n and get it done."

"I-I apologize Levi, I'll get it done as soon as possible." Hange cleared her throat, trying her best not to sound affected, but her wavering voice betrayed her, clearly slightly embarrassed.

He scoffed as he turned his back, walking out as if this were a normal occurrence. "Yeah, yeah. I don't really care anyway, just make sure this gets done. And don't make a mess, either." He says, eyeing the clear disarray of the room.

He turns to leave, but stops in the frame of the door, turning to give Hange a side-eyed glance. "But, you know, for everyone in the Survey Corps, you chose a pretty good woman." He states, shutting the door immediately after his statement, preferring not to witness the calamity.

Hange breaks out into a fit of giggles while your entire face heats up into a red blush of embarrassment.

"Of all that," Hange sputters in between giggles. "Of all that, he chooses to focus on 'my choice of women'?!"

Meanwhile, you bury your face in your hands, wishing you could just sink into the floor and never be seen again. "I thought I locked the door..."

"I guess not, darling." They tease, planting a purposefully short kiss to the edge of your jawline. This time, you're more firm in your stance, taking a hand and putting it on her forehead, gently pushing them away from your neck.

"Nuh-uh! Not this time, Levi said you have work to do." You manage to regain your confidence enough to push Hange away.

"Ughhhh, fine." They groan dramatically, gently pushing you off their lap as they scoot their chair to their desk.

"You act as if it's your life support. You can go an hour without sex, Hange."

"Impossible." Hange retorts back immediately, a joking tone to her voice.

"Right," You sigh, stretching your arms above your head, "Anyway, I'm gonna take a nap on the couch." You plop down on the cushiony fabric, making yourself comfortable before pulling a blanket up to your shoulders.

"Okay," Hange's voice echoes from across the room. "Just don't be upset if I wake you up later."

You scoff quietly at the remark, rolling onto your side and closing your tired eyes. "You dork. I'm going to sleep. Love you."

"Love you, too." They reply immediately, ignoring the papers on her desk, staring at you instead.

You'd already fallen asleep—your exhaustion from the day catching up to you—and Hange took the moment to admire your beauty as you slept peacefully.

"I'll be waiting right here when you wake up, okay?"

This also isn't proofread, I have an appointment early tomorrow morning and I don't wanna fall asleep halfway through :'D

Hope you enjoyed anyway!

[artzychic27]

To Save a Friend

TRIGGER warning: This story contains a physical, verbal, and emotionally abusive relationship. (Thank you @unmaskedagain for reminding me to put trigger warnings)

It was a fine morning at Dupont. Students waited in the courtyard for classes to start, teachers were setting up their lesson plans, and Marinette was actually early.

There haven’t been many Akuma attacks lately, and she got small commissions, so she was able to get some rest, something she desperately needed.

Ever since Lie-la came back, she became exhausted. Her friends became wary around her, and often shunned her when she tried to call out the Italian’s lies. She still had some allies who caught onto her lies, but the rest were lost causes. And out of all of them, Alya was Lila’s most loyal follower. If anyone pointed out a hole in Lila’s lies, Alya would be quick to attack. And if she was following Lila, Nino had to follow her too.

The two childhood friends haven’t really been talking much. ‘Probably Alya’s fault.’ Marinette thought, but then she realized Nino hasn’t really talked to anyone, not even Adrien. She recalled a rumor about Alya nearly attacking Aurore when she saw the blonde girl talking to Nino, but that was just a rumor... Right? They may not be best friends, but she knew Alya was not the jealous type.

But some other things confused Marinette. For example, she knows that Nino never goes without his signature red cap, she’s never seen him wear long-sleeved shirts, and he’s be fidgeting a lot lately- Something he hasn’t done since they were five years old.

She’s also noticed a change in his personality. Nino was always so chill and laid back, but now he’s just so nervous, and jumpy, and wouldn’t really talk to anyone... Except for Alya

“Nino!”

Marinette noticed the way he flinched when Alya yelled his name. He seemed so content, just talking to Adrien until her voice rang out. He cut his conversation short and ran over to his girlfriend, who was listening to Lila ramble on and on about her “grand adventures”. Something was clearly wrong, Nino never flinched... Was he slouching? He only does that when he’s nervous

“Có chuyện gì vậy?”

Hearing the familiar voice, Marinette turned to around to find her other childhood friend, Kim, leaning against a wall. Because of their play dates when they were younger, she understood some Vietnamese and responded, “I’m just a little worried about Nino.”

Kim nods “Same. He just seems... Out of it.”

“I know!” She exclaims “And have you noticed that he’s been fidgeting? He hasn’t done that since we were kids.”

Kim recalls how he’s only seen Nino fidget whenever he was around Alya, if anyone talked about her, or if anyone just mentioned her name “Do you think they got into a fight?”

Marinette was taken aback at such a question “Nino and Alya? No way. They always seem so happy together.”

“I guess,” He looks back over to Alya and Nino. He notices the latter has a strained smile as he listens to Lila’s tales “but I still think something’s going on between them.”

Marinette had to talk to Nino and get the full story on this, ‘Something Alya needs to do when she posts content on her blog’ she thought.

But Alya would never let her talk to her boyfriend, so they couldn’t talk during school hours, and her parents needed help at the bakery, so they couldn’t really talk after school. Looking back over to Kim, she gets an idea

“Could you try talking to him after school? I would, but I gotta help my parents at the bakery.”

Kim nods “I can do that! Gotta make sure my best friend is okay.” Marinette mock scoffs and flips her hair in a Chloé-like fashion “He was my best friend first.”

Kim chuckles and plays along “Sorry, Mari. First is the worst, second’s the best. And second, would be me.” He states smugly

Marinette pouts and pulls out the big guns “Alright. No macarons for a week. Bye!” She walks away, nonchalantly. Kim realizes what he’s just done and runs after her “Wait! You are his best friend! You’re the best best friend! Don’t do this to me, Mari!”

Classes were finally over, and students were heading home. Kim walks into the locker room, and find Nino putting books into his backpack. He remembers the plan, takes a deep breath, and approaches him with a comforting smile. Kim speaks “Hey, Nino.” He looks up from his bag and smiles when he sees his friend “Hey, dude. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to talk.” He takes a look at Nino’s demeanor. The bags under his eyes, how he’s refusing to make eye contact, and his hand is wrapped tightly around his wrist “Are you okay?” ‘Smooth.’ He thought

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He says quickly then shuts his locker “I-I gotta go. Alya’s been upset for a while, so I’m gonna head down to the bakery and get those macarons she likes for our date later.”

Kim seems confused “Don’t you usually go out on the weekend?”

“She just wants to hang out more. I-I mean we’ve both been pretty busy, with the Ladyblog and my gigs, they’re just cutting into our time together. Heh, she actually suggested I stop deejaying so I’ll have more time for her.” He tries to walk away, but Kim continues asking questions

“She suggested it?” He asks, now getting suspicious

“Yeah...” He sees that Kim isn’t buying it “Well, it was more like she told me to.” Kim notices him tightening his grip around his wrist “She’s not wrong, though.”

Kim places a hand on his shoulder “Well if you need help with anything, Mari and I have your back. Alright?” Without responding, Nino walks out of the room

“... That could’ve gone better.”

Kim nearly jumps out of his skin when he heard the familiar voice of a certain redhead cut through the silence. He turns around and finds Nathaniel walking out of the bathroom.

“Don't...” He pants “... do that!” He should’ve been used to that by now. Not many know this, but Kim and Nathaniel used to hang out when they were six. The redhead artist would always sneak up behind Kim and scare him

He just shrugs “Sorry.” He tilts his head slightly “Is Nino okay?”

“I don’t know, Nate.”

“... Before you walked in, I heard him on the phone with Alya. She was screaming a lot.”

“Did you hear what she said?”

“I did hear ‘Or else’ a few times, but there was mostly just angry shouting.” He grimaces at the memory “I really think something is wrong.”

“Well, he’s on his way to the bakery.” Kim reminds himself “Maybe Mari can talk to him, she’s good at this stuff.”

—

“I’m really worried, Tikki.” Marinette said while pulling a tray of croissants out of the oven “I’ve never seen him like this. He was shy as a kid, but he grew out of that.”

“Well, maybe you could ask Alya if something’s wrong.” The tiny goddess suggested, making Marinette frown

“Alya and I aren’t really speaking right now. So, I doubt she’ll talk to me about her and Nino.” She places the try on the counter and starts placing the pastries in the display case “Y’know, ever since Lila came back, their relationship has been a little... Not great.”

“I know what you mean. They don’t seem compatible anymore.” She places a croissant in the display case “I just hope Alya isn’t hurting him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well... Nino normally wears short sleeves, right?”

Marinette freezes, and thinks about what Tikki is insinuating “Tikki, y-you can’t be serious. Alya would never hurt him!”

“It is possible, Marinette.” She continues “Alya hasn’t been the same ever since Lila returned to school. She’s risking her life going after Akumas, demanding interviews with Ladybug and Chat Noir, and she’s been expecting you to do stuff for her but you don’t get anything in return.”

“Yeah, but that’s just Lila feeding her lies. I know Lila is terrible and is just a flat out liar, but even she’d be against any form of abuse!” She exclaimed “... Right?”

The two hear the bell ring, and Tikki quickly hides behind Marinette. Marinette looks up to see Nino “Hey, Nino. What can I get you?”

“Hey, Mari. Do you guys still have those caramel macarons?”

She thinks and remembers they’re not in stock “Nope. Sorry.” She notices Nino squeezing his wrist “Is everything okay?”

“A-are you sure? Could you check?” He asks nervously “I-I don’t care how many, just-“

“Maman ordered ingredients yesterday, they’ll be here next week. What’s the rush?” She steps from behind the counter “You don’t even like caramel.”

“They’re for Alya.” He explains “She’s just been really upset lately, I-I figured they might ease her up a bit.”

“Well, is she okay?”

“Yeah, totally. I’m usually the one who puts her in a mood. Honestly, it’s my fault.” He notices the look of concern on Marinette’s face and looks away “I just figured-“

“Nino, you’d tell me if Alya was hurting you, right?” She places a hand on his shoulder

Nino frowns “Dude! She’s not hurting me!” He exclaims “What gave you that idea? She’s my girlfriend.”

“I’m not saying that she is hurting you!” She says in defense “But, you haven’t been acting like yourself lately, and Alya’s been kinda... Irritable.”

“She's fine. Alya’s just been a little upset that Ladybug stopped giving her interviews, I-I haven’t exactly been that supportive.” He mutters the last part, but Marinette heard it clearly

“Excuse me?”

“Uh... Ne-nevermind!” He stammers “I’ll go see if that other bakery is open. Thanks again, Mari!” He runs out before Marinette can say anything else.

Tikki flies out of her hiding place with a concerned look on her face

“I really think Alya is hurting him.” Marinette still doesn’t wanna believe what the tiny goddess is saying, but it’s starting to seem like that now.

“I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow.”

—

Being unnoticed by people has its advantages. Nathaniel can see what others don’t, and learn new things about them. For instance, Lila seems to be giving Alya a lot of “advice” on her relationship. ‘You need to be the one in control’, ‘If he doesn’t listen, make him regret it’, ‘So what if he says no? He’s your boyfriend.’ ‘This is how a healthy relationship works’ Bullshit. That is not a healthy relationship. It also works well in the locker room when you see your friend’s girlfriend yelling at him and gripping his arm tightly

“I don’t want you talking to that... That BITCH! Got it?!” He nods quickly “Good.” She lets go of his arm, and storms out the room. Nino sits on the bench and cries to himself. Nathaniel quickly texted Marinette and Kim to let them know what he had seen.

—

Chloe was a lot of things. A sneak, tyrant, and a bully. But at least she had the guts to admit her flaws, unlike that Italian bitch, and that trashy tabloid girl. And Chloe understood abusive relationships. Sabrina told her stories she heard from her dad, and right now, Césaire and Lahiffe’s relationship is looking worse than those.

She was blonde, but she wasn’t dumb. There were signs of abuse, and it all was traced back to Lie-la. She didn’t mind the Italian at first. She let her have her fifteen minutes of fame, then go back to being nobody, but that didn’t happen. That girl had climbed her way up the social ladder, and she lied to do it.

She saw how the liar constantly bragged, made herself look better than others, fed people’s egos, and threatened others to get what she wanted, mainly Marinette. She even somehow managed to get the Eurasian expelled, something Chloe had never done.

But now she was encouraging an abusive relationship. This was something the blonde would not tolerate. She disliked everyone in that class, but even she isn’t that cruel.

When she saw Nino walking out the locker room with a visible bruise on his arm, she took a quick picture before he could pull his sleeve down, then went to find Sabrina. They had to get the word out.

—

Marinette considers herself a pacifist (When in her civilian form). But she has never wanted to hurt someone so much right now. When she saw the text Nathaniel had sent her an Kim on the group chat ‘Nino Protection Squad’, she was livid

“How could Alya do this?!” She screeched “This isn’t right! She doesn’t even care what she’s doing to him!” Tikki tries to calm her down so no Akumas are attracted

“It’ll be okay, Marinette. You can help him!”

“How can I do that when barely anyone in class will talk to me? They all believe that liar!” Her phone buzzes again. She checks and sees that Chloe has created a group chat. Everyone in the class, but Nino, Alya, and Lila was on. Marc, Nathaniel’s boyfriend, was included as well

QueenB

Meet me at the hotel at 4:00

Sk8r Gal

What’s going on??

VogueBoy

Is everything okay, Chloe?

RoseBud

Why aren’t Alya, Nino, and Lila on here?

QueenB

Don’t add them on

Sabrina and I will tell you everything. Just hurry!!!

Not thinking too much about the strange text, Marinette headed over to the hotel and met with her class, plus Marc, in Chloe’s suite

“Okay, we’re here.” Ivan says “What’s going on? And why aren’t Alya, Nino, and Lila here?”

“This is about them.” She notices the worried looks on Kim, Marinette, and Nathaniel’s faces “I’m sure some of you have noticed that Alya and Nino’s relationship seems a little off.”

While everyone looks confused, Marinette, Kim, and Nathaniel nod. Chloe notices Alix looking down solemnly

“And I’m sure you guys have noticed that Nino hasn’t been acting like himself lately.” This grabs their attention “... I think Alya might be abusing Nino, and Lila is causing it.” That statement causes outrage. Everyone on Lila’s side tries to defender her and Alya

“No way!”

“Alya would never do that!”

“You’re just jealous!”

“SHUT UP!” They’re all silenced by Marinette’s outburst “I believe her!” Before they can retort, Kim speaks up

“So do I.”

“... Same.” They turn to Nathaniel. Marc holds his hand “I... I saw Alya yelling at him. She was holding his arm tight, a-and he was crying after she left.” The class is stunned. No one says anything, but after a few more seconds of silence, Alix speaks up.

“I was skating by the park, and I saw them.” She frowns at the memory “Alya was yelling at him, saying he brought the wrong macaroons or something, and I just... I saw her slap him across the face.” She removes her cap and sits on the white couch “I didn’t know what to do or say, I just froze.” Juleka sits down next to her and hugs her

“I believe you guys.” She sighs “I know Chloe isn’t exactly the nicest person, but even she wouldn’t lie about something this serious. The more I think about it, the more I see Alya is hurting Nino.”

“But, why would Lila be the one who started this?” Max brings up

“Because she’s a psychotic liar!” Chloe screeches “For God’s sake, do you honestly believe someone could fall down the stairs and not get hurt, or that a napkin could gouge your eye out when you’re wearing glasses?!” Max cringes at the memory

Mylène speaks up “I believe that Nino is being hurt, but I don’t think it was caused by Lila.”

“You don’t notice how she keeps giving Alya ‘relationship advice’?” Marinette asks, putting air quotes around relationship advice. “Or how she’s been feeding Alya’s ego just a little too much? This is why she keeps putting herself in danger during Akuma attacks! And Ladybug won’t even talk to her anymore!”

“Yeah, but-“

Adrien finally speaks up “Guys, Marinette’s right. Lila’s a liar.” He feels Plagg nudging him in his pocket and comes clean “One day, Lila tried to lie and say that she was the descendant of a fox superhero. But Ladybug called her out, and well... That’s how I knew.”

“So, you knew Lila was lying and didn’t tell us?!” Alix shouts

“Could you blame him?” Chloe replies “You all turned on Dupain-Cheng when she tried to warn you!”

Everyone realizes she’s right. They’re starting to see that Lila isn’t the amazing person that thought she was. She was a manipulative liar, and they fell for every single story she told. They felt like idiots. They remembered Marinette, how she warned them, tried to point out Lila’s lies, but they didn’t listen. A few were about to apologize, but Marinette stopped them.

“You can apologize later.” She says “Now we need to help Nino, expose Lila for the liar she is, and keep Alya away from Nino for good.”

—

Marinette and Chloé used their connections to contact all the famous people Lila lies about. From Jagged Stone to Clara Nightingale, Audrey Bourgeois, XY, Prince Ali, everyone.

Adrien had informed his father of how uncomfortable Lila made him during photo shoots. Constantly touching him, being so unprofessional, and trying to kiss him every chance she could get.

Gabriel Agreste reconsidered his decision on making Lila his new model and decided to give his lawyers a call.

Sabrina told her dad about how Nino was being abused by Alya, and how Lila was causing it. She showed him the picture Chloé took of the bruise on Nino’s arm, and he was on board with the plan.

Kim, Marc, Nathaniel, and Alix gathered more evidence, such as Nino’s bruises, audio recordings of his and Alya’s conversations. They even recorded a few of Lila’s lies, and the advice she was giving Alya on how a “healthy relationship” works. This would be what they showed principal Damocles.

Mylène, Ivan, Rose, Juleka, and Max worked to find Mme. Rossi’s contact info. They eventually found the Embassy homepage where they found her phone number and email address. This information would also be brought to the principal.

—

Alya was pissed. First, her lousy boyfriend didn’t get the right macarons for their date, then she caught him talking to that jealous bitch, and now everyone was avoiding her and Lila for no damn reason! She bet Marinette got to them. That girl was taking her jealousy way too far! She was just so mad... And her boyfriend talking to Rose wasn’t helping one damn bit.

“Nino, please let us help you.“

“Rose, I told you. Alya and I are fine. I-I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.” Before Rose could say more, Nino felt the recurring pain in his arm again. He turned around and saw Alya, a furious look on her face

“Leave him alone, Rose.” Alya sneered as she dragged Nino away.

Nino was hoping she would see this wasn’t his fault, and let him off easy this time. It was Rose who approached him, not the other way around. Alya didn’t believe him for a second. She dragged him into a broom closet, making sure no one saw them and shut the door behind her.

“Babe, please, I-I didn’t say any-“

Alya grabbed Nino by his head and slammed his faces into the wall, and three more times for good measure

“You idiot! You think you can just go behind my back and talk to some bitch?!” She smacked him across the face “This isn’t even half the pain I feel when you betray me!”

“I’m sorry!” This earned Nino a punch to the face, and a hard punch to the ribs, making him cough up some blood. “Stop! Please!” He was crying now

“Shut up!” She slapped him across the face one more time, then she reached into her pocket, pulled out some concealer, and threw it at Nino “Put that on!” Once she leaves, Nino slides down into the floor and continues crying

—

Alya could feel all eyes on her as she walked into the classroom. They weren’t friendly, though. She took her seat by Lila and waited for Mme. Bustier to start her lesson, but to her confusion, she wasn’t there. She turns to Lila “Where’s Mme. Bustier?” The Italian just shrugged

“So, Alya.” She turned around to see Adrien giving her a hate-filled look. Why? She didn’t know “You see Nino around?”

Alya just rolled her eyes “He said he’s gonna be a little late.” ‘He better get here soon.’ Adrien just slumped into his seat, his arms folded

“Sure.”

—

Irene Rossi was beyond livid. She was just filing a few papers and sending some emails to some fellow diplomats when she suddenly received a very disturbing email from her daughter’s principal. When she got to the end, she ran right outside, got in her car, and drove to the school. She was going to have a few words with her daughter

—

Mme. Bustier stepped into the classroom with Damocles and officer Raincomprix. The teacher looked horrified and so pale. But that all changed when she saw Alya and Lila. She glared at the two girls. She had never felt like this towards any of her students. She didn’t want to feel this way, but after hearing what had been going on behind her back, she felt those girls deserved the most severe punishment

“Alya Césaire and Lila Rossi?” Roger asked. The two girls nodded, and at that, he pulled out two sets of handcuffs “You two are coming with me.” He proceeded to place the cuffs on their wrists

“What?!” The two girls screamed

“But we didn’t do anything!” Alya yelled

Chloé rolled her eyes “Oh, so hitting your boyfriend is nothing?”

Alya was speechless at the accusation “You... Shut up, you bitch!

Lila started crying crocodile tears “Marinette, how could you?!”

“Cram it, Rossi!” Kim yelled, “We know you’ve been lying about everything!”

Lila was taken aback “I-I didn’t lie! I swear! Did Marinette-“

“Shut the fuck up Lila!” The students' mouths hung open when they heard Adrien curse “I have dealt with your shit before, but this is way too far! You are an enabler of abusive relationships!”

Lila continued to cry, trying to gain some sympathy, but no one except Alya came to her defense “How could you say that?!”

Marinette stood from her chair “Because it’s the truth, Alya! I saw the bruises on Nino’s arms! Nathaniel saw you yelling at him and squeezing his arm, Alix saw you at the park! You hit him!” Alya was about to retort, until-

“Hey, Mme. Bustier, sorry I’m late. I-“ Nino notices the handcuffs on Lila and Alya’s wrists and the angry looks on his classmates' face. He is about to ask what’s wrong until he sees that look on Alya’s face that says ‘Get the fuck out.’ “I... I’m gonna go.” He’s about to walk out the room until he feels his teacher’s hand on his shoulder

“Nino. I want you to be honest with me.” She says in a caring voice “Is Alya hurting you?” The room goes silent as they await his answer. When he says nothing, she places a hand on his cheek but notices something off about the texture of his skin

“...”

Bustier rubs her thumb over his cheek, revealing a purple mark. She’s close to tears “Nino...” She pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket and wipes the concealer off, revealing multiple bruises and cuts all over his face.

The students gasp at the sight. Marinette, Rose, and Adrien start crying. Ivan, Juleka, Alix, and Kim look ready to murder Alya.

Bustier turns to Roger. “Please, take them away.” The two girls are horrified when she allows Roger to take them out of the classroom, but then...

“Not so fast.”

They were about to thank God for sending them this woman dressed in a red power suit, until “Alya Césaire and Lila Rossi. You’ve been served.” She opens up her briefcase, revealing a stack of papers “Jagged Stone, Clare Nightingale, XY, Prince Ali, and Audrey Bourgeois are suing both of you for defamation.”

“WHAT?!” Alya screeched “But Lila knows them, they’ll vouch for her! They wouldn’t sue her!”

“I beg to differ. According to a few of your classmates, Miss Rossi has been lying about the following...” She pulls a sheet of paper out of the briefcase

“Claiming she saved Jagged Stone’s cat, that he wrote a song about her, Clara stole her dance moves, she visits the Prince multiple times, XY cheated on her, and Audrey begged her to model. And Miss Césaire, they’re demanding that your tabloid blog be taken down.”

Alya looked dumbstruck “B-but it’s all true!”

“No. It. Isn’t.”

Another woman stepped in. Lila immediately paled

“Lila Diabla Rossi, I can’t believe you!” She began to yell in Italian, Lila retorted, also in Italian. It was very confusing for the Parisian citizens, but the two women went back to speaking French

“You lied to me about school being shut down, about Ladybug and Chat Noir! About everything!”

“But, mama-“

“DON’T!” She yelled “You need to learn your lesson. That is why I’m wavering your diplomatic immunity.”

“What?!” Lila was livid. There was no way out of it. Where the hell was an Akuma when you needed one?!

“There’s also the matter of her partnership with the Agreste brand.” Nathalie stepped in, and a small stack of papers in her hand “Lila Rossi, you are fired. Mr. Agreste has also placed a restraining order on you. You are not to get within twenty feet of Adrien.”

Irene looked confused “Fired?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Nathalie asked “Your daughter is Gabriel’s newest model, and muse apparently. Her words, not his.”

Once again, the Italian woman shouted profanities in a language no one in the room, except for Lila understood. Many were wondering where the Akuma was, but Nathalie knew. It would be here in 3... 2...

“AKUMA!”

Now. She hid a smirk when she saw Lila pull out of Roger’s hold, and run for the Akuma. It went into her handcuffs, and she laughed like a maniac as the butterfly symbol appeared over her face

“YOU IDIOTS SHOULD’VE KEPT YOUR MOUTHS SHUT!”

Everyone waited for the black smoke to surround her, and for an Akuma to be in her place. Marinette and Adrien were about to get out of their seats and run somewhere private to transform... But nothing.

“What?!” She yelled “You need me! I was so damn close to getting that stupid jewelry! I almost killed Ladybug! You’d be nothing without me!”

The students were horrified. She was working with a terrorist! She admitted to almost killing Ladybug, their hero! The butterfly flew out of her handcuffs and became white again, much to their shock. Hawkmoth just revoked an Akuma.

“NO! YOU’RE USELESS HAWKMOTH! USELE-“ A black book was thrown at her head, and she passed out onto the floor, much to everyone’s shock and relief. They turn around and see Marc standing at the doorway with his arm outstretched

“Rainbow, did you throw that?” Nathaniel asks as he walks over to his boyfriend

“She was so annoying!” He exasperated. Nathaniel kisses him on the cheek, calming him down

“She... She was lying?” Alya asked herself “She was working with Hawkmoth...”

Marinette sighed, got up from her seat, and walked down the stairs, then walked over to Alya. The bespectacled girl looked to her former friend, hoping she’ll say it wasn’t her fault, and that she didn’t know, but instead, all the bluenette said was

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU THAT FROM THE START!” She yelled, making Alya flinch and look down in shame “But, nooo! I’m a jealous bitch! Well how are you any better?! You abused Nino, attacked Aurore, and spread lies about people I know!”

“But-“

“Save it. You hurt my friend. I don’t ever want to see your face again!” She feels Adrien take her hand in his. She sends him a smile, then heads back to her desk

Alya looks to Nino, hoping he’ll forgive her and see that she was wrong for listening to Lila “Babe, please help me! I didn’t know! I’m sorry!”

Nino just looks her dead in the eye and frowns “Why would I help you?”

—

Alya and Lila’s trials took place a few weeks later. Along with defamation, Lila had also been sued for bullying, sexual harassment, aiding a terrorist, destruction of property, and forging signatures. Nino, Marinette, and Adrien testified against them and showed no mercy. Lila tried to lie her way out once again, but the judge, a no-nonsense woman, was having none of it. They were found guilty of their actions. Alya received twenty years in prison with no bail. Lila received thirty-five, also with no bail.

As for Nino, he was getting better. His bruises healed after a few months, and his friends were there for him. A year passed and Nino found a new girlfriend, Alisha. An American girl who enjoyed painting, and musicals. When she heard about Nino’s previous relationship, she smothered him with hugs and words of comfort.

Marinette got her apologies from the class, and she accepted them. However, it would be a while before she could truly forgive them. They didn’t blame her.

Taglist:

@heaven428 @aestheticnpoetic @marinetteagrestelove @fleur-de-jasmin-fdj @wannajointhecrabcult @starpony999 @its-salty-bug @saltymiraculer

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 46 - Salve

Title: Irreverent Pt. 46 - Salve Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~10K

A/N: Flashback Chapter set between Chapter 14: Superheroes and Chapter 15: Foyet. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

The bar was thrumming with activity and the energy that accompanies people who've all had a long, hard day at work and would like to do nothing besides forget. The team had gotten back from a case in the evening, and with only Friday separating them and the weekend, had all decided to head out for a night of drinking.

You look around, your hands wrapped around a glass of scotch - Derek, Penelope, and Emily were dancing in the makeshift dancing area, JJ was playing darts with some guys, Spencer was cheating people out of their money at a game of pool, and Rossi had long ago excused himself to go sit by some woman at the bar. You'd be dancing too, but the unsub had gotten the jump on you during the takedown and you'd been nursing a sprained ankle ever since. Hotch had stayed with you - whether it was simply to keep you company or because none of the other activities appealed to him, you're unsure. Likely the former - he was pretty good at darts too.

He's sitting across from you in the booth, a glass of scotch in his hand as well. He doesn't make a face when he drinks it, which you have to admire - it was such a man thing. You only drank liquor to get drunk and had been surprised with the drink by Rossi, who had insisted that you needed to drink something stronger than a glass of wine after the day you'd had. You take another hesitant sip from your glass, trying hard not to give away how little you like it. He could've ordered you a mixed drink - something sweet so you didn't taste just pure alcohol.

"What've you got going on this weekend?" you ask Hotch. The case had been miserable all around and you wanted to talk about anything but that.

He looks up at you, the faint hint of a smile on his face. "Haley and I worked it out so that I can have Jack the entire weekend. I'll have to think of something to keep him occupied."

You knew that Hotch would be content to do nothing as long as it was with Jack, but he liked to make the most of their time together and did his best to plan things out that Jack would like. "I saw a poster that said the Air and Space Museum has some special exhibit on this month. It looked interesting." You knew Jack would enjoy that - his latest toy was a rocketship that went everywhere with him.

"Saturday?" he asks, eyebrow quirked up in question.

"Make it 11, and you've got a deal," you tell him, with a small smile. "I am no longer entertaining plans at 9am."

He lets out a slight huff. "If you just went to bed at a normal hour it wouldn't be that hard to wake up in the morning."

This was an old argument with the two of you. Hotch insisted on always being the first in line to any ticketed event. He hated waiting - he'd start to fidget and get annoyed and keep leaving the line to walk to the front and see what was taking so long.

"Take it or leave it." You were sticking your ground. He could use the lie in too, he'd just never admit it.

"We'll pick you up," he says, bringing his glass to his mouth and taking another sip, eyes meeting yours from above the rim.

It was interesting how you and Hotch had settled into this routine of constantly doing things with Jack. You reckon he likes having another adult around when he's out with Jack - it definitely made things easier to keep a little kid entertained. You'd once mentioned to Emily that you were having dinner with him and Jack and she'd looked at you a little oddly, saying that she'd been on the team forever and had never once had dinner with her boss and his kid. You'd responded by telling her that she probably wouldn't enjoy it all too much - Emily liked kids just fine, but her and Hotch tend to get on one another's nerves a bit after a while. They were far too different even if they did work well together. Hotch would try and fail at limiting her to two glasses of wine with dinner and she'd annoy him by just putting the dishes straight into the dishwasher without caring how she did it.

"Someone sent this over for you." You turn to see the waitress place a drink at your table, and indicate towards a man in a wrinkled suit, seated at the bar, who waves at you.

You can feel your face turn into a grimace as the waitress looks at you expectantly. You avoid looking at Hotch across the way. You didn't need to see his reaction. "Would you mind telling him thanks, but, no thanks for me?" you ask her apologetically.

She nods understandingly, taking the drink back and walking towards the bar.

You turn to look at Hotch, completely exasperated. It was nice. It was a nice gesture - sending a girl a drink. Friendly. Yet, you're just a little at your wit's end lately when it comes to men. It all just feels superficial.

Hotch can read you pretty well by now, so he asks if you're alright.

You look at his concerned face. You know why - usually you don't mind this sort of thing. Hell, you pretty much encourage it with the way you act, flirting with nearly everyone simply because you can. It's like a sport to you.

"Are you asking as my boss or as my friend?" you ask him, eyes cast down towards your drink, following patterns in the wood of the table.

"Friend," he says, adjusting to lean in a bit more towards you.

Sighing, you shift a bit, dropping your leg from where you'd been keeping it elevated next to him. "Lately, I just feel like I can't get guys to see me. Like every guy I meet, they either want to date me or kill me," you tell him, referring to your job. "But beyond that, it's like I don't even matter."

Hotch nods understandingly at your frustration, his face a grimace at your explanation. He's unable to deny that that is very much the case when it comes to women quite often - especially in your line of work. You're all far too aware of the horrors of dating, being called in on numerous cases on dating gone wrong. "Aren't you still seeing that guy - Kensington?" he asks with a slight uptick of his jaw.

"Well, if you can call seeing someone six times over the course of about an equal number of months, then yes I suppose so," you scoff lightly. "Twice we got called in on cases halfway, once he got interrupted by a work emergency, and then most recently I accompanied him to an event at which most of the other dates were the kind that demand a retainer in exchange for services rendered," you say, alluding to the super model types you'd kept company at Cedric's business event a couple of weeks back. You could fit into his world quite easily, but you didn't want to. You'd left that behind for a reason.

Hotch chuckles slightly at that, amused at your tone and manner in which you referred to women who were essentially either escorts or sugar babies. You didn't really fit that mold - of that he was quite certain. For one, you definitely didn't need the money.

"Don't get me wrong, I actually do like him. We get one another and our background and upbringing is similar enough. He makes me laugh. However our schedules - both of ours - are highly unconducive to dating and in his line of business he needs a girlfriend who can leave everything at the drop of a hat to stand by his side."

"So unless you leave your job or he leaves his, it won't work out," Hotch finishes your thought for you, a resigned expression on his face in commiseration.

"Exactly. Which is a shame because he's actually one of the good ones. He's rich but not pompous, educated and intelligent without being condescending about it, and actually shows genuine interest in me and my job. Believe it or not, as basic as those things might seem, they are actually difficult to find all in one man."

He hums. "I can imagine," he says, taking another sip of his drink, a slightly amused expression on his face. You rarely talked to him about your dating life so he was actually very interested in this insight. He wonders briefly if there's any significance to you having listed the fact that Kensington was wealthy before any of his other qualities. From what he knows of you, he doubts you'd truly care if your partner had money or not. More than likely it merely helped establish a commonality, nothing more. However, from what he does know of the men you've dated recently, they all appear to be quite well off nonetheless.

"Anyways, all that is to say that I'm not exactly looking to entertain complete strangers in bars at the moment. I don't trust my luck."

"Probably for the best, anyways," Hotch comments, appraising the crowd at the bar. There really didn't appear to be anyone worth talking to - especially none of your caliber, per his judgement.

"What about you? How's the post divorce dating scene?" you question, feeling a little bolder than you usually might, since the two of you are already discussing the matter. Turnabout was fair play.

He's a little surprised at your forwardness. You tend to do your best to not meddle in his personal business, despite the amount of time you two spend together. He believes it's your way of maintaining some modicum of professionalism to your outings. Your conversations tend to revolve around cases, your classes from college, an article in the newspaper, or the ever present game the two of you like to play of profiling complete strangers walking by. He says its to hone your skills, but really he just enjoys how invested you get - how competitive and passionate, color rising in your cheeks as you defend your assessment, annoyance tinging your tone as you disagree with him, admiration when he notes something you hadn't, and pride when he praises your observations, your cheeks flushed a prettier pink and your eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

"I wouldn't know," he discloses, a slight flush in his cheeks. He hadn't dated at all since the divorce. He hadn't had the time and he hadn't really had interest in anyone. Not when you exist, so overtly present in his day to day life. He knows he's - in some capacity - using the outings with you and Jack as the closest thing he's got to dating again. Not to say that it was that - dating. However the fact that his weekends were typically filled by you and his son made it so he wasn't exactly left wanting.

Your eyes widen a little in surprise. Their divorce had been a while back now - you knew for a fact that Haley was dating, having ran into her with some man when you'd offered to drop Jack off for Hotch when you all got called in on a case last minute. You hadn't mentioned it to him, but you're sure he knew as well. "You're joking. Really? No one?"

"You might recall, I got divorced because I didn't have the time for my existing relationship. A new one requires quite a bit more attention than that," he says dryly, self deprecation dripping from every word.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at him as you stir your drink with the toothpick it came with, spearing the cherry inside and popping it into your mouth.

"You should just go for it next time we're in some whatever town. Every female detective we've encountered constantly gets all moony eyed around you," you inform him matter-of-factly. They're all so obvious too, eyes always drawn to his ring finger in search of a wedding band, and upon finding it empty, hanging onto his every word. Flicking their hair and fluttering their lashes at him, keen on proving themselves to be competent by sticking their noses into the profile.

"That's hardly true," he contradicts, shaking his head, the color in his cheeks having creeped down his neck.

You chuckle at that. "Maybe you're not as good of a profiler as you think you are."

He glares at you, however the lightheartedness remains in his eyes so you know you're in the clear for your jab.

"Anyways, all I'm saying is, whenever you decide to get back on that proverbial horse, I think you won't find a shortage of options," you tell him kindly. After all, Hotch worked harder than any of you. He deserved to find happiness again.

He rolls his eyes at your statement ever so slightly. His right hand was a much less complicated and demanding lover for the time being - he was making do just fine.

"So, on to the next for you then?" he asks, attempting to divert attention back to you and your existent dating life rather than him and his non-existent one.

You shake your head, a humorless smile appearing on your face as you start to feel just slightly light headed from the alcohol. Maybe accepting random pain killers from Emily hadn't been quite the right move. "Nah," you mumble into your drink. "Cedric can stay, if only because I don't have an actual good reason to end it yet. Besides him, the other two on the back burner are quickly losing what little appeal they held to begin with. I might actually take a break."

Hotch smiles as if he doesn't quite believe you're capable of actually taking a break. Your reputation for never being without a date far preceded you.

Truth be told, at first it was simply easier to always be dating someone in the aftermath of the John wreckage. If you could constantly keep yourself occupied and distracted in that area, while you actually gave turning straight a fair shot, then maybe you'd make it through instead of going crawling back to his bed. Maybe you'd stop seeing his broken face when you told him you couldn't be with him. Maybe the memory of leaving him standing alone in front of that tattoo parlor in the Village wouldn't cause your heart to ache and rebel against your own actions. Maybe. Just maybe.

Now, the pain of Julian's death and the subsequent fallout with your family was merely hurtful when you chose to think of it or were reminded of it inadvertently It was no longer ever present. That seemed like progress. Like somehow despite everything - the pain and torture you'd inflicted upon both you and John had somehow been worth it if it meant you could go to sleep without thinking of Julian. Wake up without your father's face looming ever present in your mind.

You and Hotch look up when you see the rest of the team approaching the table one by one as the night drew to a close. It was last call and about time to head home so you could all have a hope of making an appearance at the office the next day.

"You want a ride home?" Hotch asks you, noticing your slight struggle to get out of the booth.

"It's totally out of your way," you protest, yanking your coat on and fishing for your keys in your pocket.

"I insist, come on. You can't drive properly with that sprain right now. He walks towards you and placing his hand at your lower back, guides you out of the bar behind the rest of the team. "Your car should be fine and we can grab it in the morning."

You know he's right, so you allow yourself to lean against him ever so much more, letting him help you out to his car. Hotch helps you in and closes the door behind you, before walking around to the driver's side. You take control of the music, plugging in your phone, intent on introducing him to more modern music. The two of you made it through seven Top 50 songs on the drive to your place, Hotch complaining throughout and not finding anything redeemable in any of the songs you'd chosen.

Aaron looked over at you as he neared your house, your head moving along to the music and your fingers dancing across your thighs to the tune, a large grin plastered on your voice as you tried to convince him that this this one he surely had to enjoy. He actually didn't mind most of the music you picked out to introduce him to - you didn't just pick anything, you always did your best to pick something you thought he'd truly enjoy. However, he worried that if he started to openly like any of them, you might stop trying so hard.

He pulled into your driveway and walked around to help you out of the car, lending you a hand along the path and up the steps to your door. He stands on the lower step as you unlock the door, before you turn around to tell him goodbye. When you turn, you're almost at his height due to the different steps you two are stood upon and you're not quite sure what compels you, but you reach for him and lean in to a hug, tucking your head onto his shoulder. If he's surprised he doesn't react as such, wrapping his arms around you as well briefly.

"Thanks Hotch."

"I'll pick you up at 8:30AM tomorrow. Is that alright?"

"Sounds good. I'll be the one standing right here, holding the cups of coffee."

He smiles, rolling his eyes just slightly, before turning around and walking away.

*------------*

He first becomes aware of only pain. A piercing, stabbing pain that he can feel everywhere, centered around the abdominal area. He can't move, everything feels heavy. Opening his eyes is a struggle and he manages to only open his eyes a fraction, before being forced to close them tight again. It was bright. White and too bright for his sensitive eyes.

He's slowly starting to realize where he is - becoming increasingly aware of the pain and the bandages, the needle connecting an I.V. to his arm - he's in a hospital. He tries to remember what happened - he'd dropped you off, waited until you made it inside and waved him off, before leaving. He'd gotten back to his apartment. It had been quiet. Eerily quiet. Then Foyet was there. After that all he recalls is pain and Foyet's voice - over and over and over.

Do I seem impotent now?

You should've made the deal.

This will never be over.

Aaron finds it too difficult to keep his eyes open and closes them once again, slipping under.

The next time he wakes, a technician was present and the girl quickly hurried out when she noticed him move.

Once the nurses became aware that he was conscious, it had been a flurry of activity - doctors and technicians in and out to ensure he was alright and to up the pain medication. Some talk about internal bleeding and nine stab wounds to which he'd simply nodded along. He tried to ask for Dave - someone who could make sense of all of this. They told him no visitors yet, but that family had been informed.

Once Dave enters, that's when he finds out everything. Foyet had dumped him outside the hospital. After he hadn't shown up to pick you up that morning, you'd raised the alarm and Garcia had tracked him down. Nothing was missing from his apartment from what they could tell, despite the mess. The only thing left out was his address book. Dave had it with him and Aaron looks through it, going immediately to the one page that mattered. It wasn't there.

Haley Brooks.

Rossi had sent you to go get Haley since the Marshalls were getting ready for her. You'd left Jack with JJ, assuring him that you'd be right back. He'd already seen his father and you'd watched from a distance as Hotch had adjusted to sit up, insistent on not letting his son see him as anything but alright, even in the context of a hospital bed. Haley had been with them and you watched as her eyes flitted from Hotch to Jack - fear for her son and what he might have to go through, due to his father's job, her main concern. She was worried for Hotch too, of course. She must be. However, their initial interaction that you'd witnessed hadn't been quite how you'd expect a wife to react to her husband being in a hospital. Though, you suppose, she wasn't really his wife anymore. Not that it mattered to him - you're pretty sure in his eyes, she might as well still be.

You approach, and you can hear Hotch and Haley in conversation about what's going to happen next. Foyet had taken only the page in his address book with her name on it, so his intentions were perfectly clear. Haley and Jack were being targeted by a serial killer. That meant they needed to be protected, and you knew that Hotch would have to break it to her.

"Do you know where they're taking us?" Haley asks. You can hear the uncertainty in her voice. You wait outside, trying not to eavesdrop but it was impossible not to overhear.

"No I don't. And that's the point. I can't know where you're going. If you have any contact with anyone, then he could track you."

"Jack has school, Aaron. He has friends. I have a job now." Her voice is accusing and you want to tell her that none of that matters right now. The only thing that matters is the two of them being safe.

"I know. And I'm sorry. We will catch him. And you'll come back, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you." Hotch's voice comes out low and you can hear the anguish caught in his throat as he speaks to the mother of his child - telling her to take their son and go. Breaking his own heart in the process by keeping Jack away from him. Knowing that that is exactly what Foyet wants. Wants him to suffer.

"Are you sure that we're in danger?" she asks, her voice suggesting that maybe he was overreacting. You feel a surge of anger course through you at that. For her to even suggest that he was overreacting when he was laid up in a hospital bed with multiple stab wounds was simply…you didn't have the words. He wouldn't make her go through this over nothing!

"Yes."

You decide to intervene then. Before she can question it further and agitate him more. He needed to rest. You knock quickly, alerting them both to your presence. "Haley, the Marshalls are ready for you."

She nods and grabs Hotch's hand. You avert your eyes to give them their privacy as Hotch tells her to be brave and strong. He'll see her and Jack after she's met with them.

Haley walks towards you and you point her to the tall female agent standing at the end of the ICU doors, wearing non-descript clothing in order to not garner too much attention. She nods and looks at you, and you see a hint of something pass through her eyes, like she wants to speak, but then seems to think better of it and walks towards the direction you'd pointed her in.  

You watch her go, before turning to Hotch. His eyes followed her until she disappeared around the corner, and then he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. You hesitate for a second, before walking in. Your presence wouldn't be missed for a few minutes, you hope, so you walk towards the bed and take a seat in the chair to his left, waiting until he decides to look at you.

"How're you feeling?" His face is turned towards you as though he's partially surprised you're even there at all. You wonder if he would've preferred you have left him alone instead.

"They're got me some pretty strong meds," he tells you, indicating towards the I.V. drip connected to his arm.

You lean over and read the chart hanging from the side of the bed, eyes glancing over it. "They got you on all of the good stuff - Hydromorphone will get the job done for sure." You try to smile but you know it won't reach your eyes right now.

"How long did it take you to sound the alarm?"

You shift, tilting the chair to look at him better, your teeth worrying your bottom lip and eyes narrowed, trying to work out why he'd ask that. The smell of a hospital was starting to get to you a bit - that odd smell that feels like despair and cleaning supplies. "Ten minutes. At 8:35, I called your cell and you didn't pick up. I called again at 8:36 and 8:37 and 8:38. At 8:39 I told myself I was acting crazy and that the weird feeling I had wasn't anything really. I just needed some breakfast. At 8:40, I called Penelope and had her track you down." You remembered the ten minutes of pure panic you'd gone through when he hadn't been outside at exactly 8:30AM. With anyone else, it wouldn't be a cause for concern. With Hotch, you'd expected him to be there at 8:25AM and so you'd been ready to go by 8:15AM with a travel mug of coffee for the both of you in each hand. He also always texted you when he left his place to come to yours and you hadn't gotten an ETA text that morning. Maybe that's what had originally put you on edge.

He looks at you, an odd look on his face at your explanation as if he's trying to decide what to make of it - the entirely detailed and rambling explanation he got from you, likely catching him off guard a bit. Great, he thinks I'm insane.

A small smile makes its way to his face however, and you're glad he's still capable of that, despite everything. You haven't yet looked down at his bandages. Foyet had stabbed him nine times. You'd seen the notes that Rossi had taken - what Foyet had said to Hotch as he stabbed him. Talking about how Hotch has profiled him as being impotent. The mere act of stabbing Hotch while taunting him with that particular piece of the profile -it filled your stomach with churning acid. It was the closest to sexual assault that Foyet could inflict upon Hotch and you're trying hard not to think about the emotional and mental ramifications of it all for him. The physical was one thing - that's something that people can move past with time. The violation of one's home and one's body however - the toll that takes on ones being and sense of self - that's much more difficult to bury.

Just to even think that he was exaggerating - you're mad all over again at Haley. You shouldn't be. You know that isn't fair at all. She was having her whole life upended. And yet…he was the one in a hospital bed and you're having a hard time recalling her seeming at all concerned for him. She must've been, of course. But…he didn't deserve to be made to feel like shit because of it. It wasn't his fault. Knowing him, he really would spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

You avert your eyes to stare at the wheels at the bottom of the bed. They'd wheeled him, unconscious, past you when you'd first arrived at the hospital, not bothering to go into the office and instead arriving straight from your place via a cab. You'd been the first one there, having Garcia call the rest of the team. You'd called Rossi so that he could be the one to call Haley. He'd known her longer. You'd limped your way into the ICU, bypassing every single security check with a flash of your badge.

Pointless really. They wouldn't let you see him. Family first. You had to wait for Haley and Rossi to arrive - they were his emergency contacts. You briefly wondered if that was because he'd never bothered to update it after the divorce or if that was truly still the case - if she would be the person he'd want to have during an emergency.

"Can I say something?" Your voice comes out small and hesitant. He hadn't said anything in the wake of your explanation earlier.

He nods, looking at you curiously.

You wet your lips, clearing your throat a bit and sitting up straighter. It's not your place, and yet.. someone should say it. Someone should tell him.

"Sometimes, when we love people, we allow them to hurt us. We allow them to ignore our pain in favor of elevating their own. We allow them to bypass our feelings and our needs because we believe we aren't as worthy of having what we need acknowledged. I get why, of course. Especially right now, but.." You trail off, not knowing how to finish what you'd started in a way that didn't complete overstep the boundaries that you'd already crossed. He'd know you had heard. He didn't need to know that right now, you didn't exactly love his ex wife. You liked her just fine. But right then, you didn't appreciate how she'd treated him.

Hotch looks at you, breath caught by your words. He hadn't realized you'd overheard the conversation between him and Haley. There could be no other reason for you to be saying all of that. You'd said it all softly, hesitantly, knowing you were crossing some sort of line and yet you'd still said it because you felt he needed to hear it. We love.. We allow… We believe… You were speaking from some amount of personal experience. Your first question to him had been about how he was doing - unlike both Rossi and Prentiss who had asked him what happened. He's not sure why the distinction matters, yet it does.

Haley was right too, however. He can't be upset with her. This was all his fault. He hadn't made a deal with Foyet and now his family - his son - their lives were being upended. Haley had already put up with a lot during their marriage. The divorce should've meant that she no longer had to bear the consequences of his job. He can't help but feel guilty for that - for putting her in this situation. Especially when he's so overtly aware that he could've kept it from happening.

He watches as you sit in that chair, eyeing him apprehensively, chewing on your bottom lip. You care. He can tell you care. You care so overwhelmingly that it's hard to deny it. Sometimes he wishes you didn't. It would make things a lot easier on him if he could think that he felt something for someone that didn't even think about him - that he never crossed your mind even. However, there's far too much proof to the contrary. So instead he has to live with knowing that you care about him, that you think of him, that you likely - in some capacity - love him. The way one might love a friend or a mentor. Somehow that's worse because he has to then deal with you saying stuff like this. Things that make it seem like only you care.

He doesn't know what to say and he can feel tears forming that he's quick to blink away, hoping you hadn't noticed. He swallows and just nods, not trusting himself to say much of anything that didn't involve asking you to stay - possibly forever, because for the first time since he'd woken up in the hospital, he feels seen.

You try to smile and change the subject, fill him in on the Marshalls' plan with Haley and Jack. Offer to get him ice chips or some food that wasn't from the hospital cafeteria. He notices how at ease you seem in the hospital, and comes to the conclusion that maybe a family member had spent some time in one. You seem to know which nurses to talk to in order to get whatever you needed. You watch like a hawk when they come to do anything with his medications. He's pretty certain you would've slept there overnight had Rossi not asked you to help Morgan with something on the ongoing case.

He misses you as soon as you leave.

*------------*

You catch Jack and Haley on your way out. You know you won't be seeing Jack for a while. The Marshalls would be taking them today. Everything was going to change for them.

You nod at Agent Montgomery - the U.S. Marshall that's going to be on their case for the time being. She shifts, moving to the doorway to give you guys a moment.

Haley is seated at the table, her hands holding onto some paperwork. She meets your eyes briefly and nods before returning to the documents. There's a pen in her hands and you can't help but note that her fingers shake around it a bit.

Jack is seated at another table nearby, Agent Montgomery having cleared the breakroom for their meeting.

"Hey buddy." You kneel down to where Jack has been sitting, coloring a printout that one of the nurses must've provided. Jack turns to you, showing off his work. "That looks amazing, Jack!"

He beams with pride at your praise. "Thanks, Y/N."

"I have to head out, okay. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left."

Jack gets up and hugs you, wrapping his little pudgy arms tightly around your neck, allowing you to sweep him up entirely. You know this is the last time you'll get to hold him for quite a while, so you allow it to linger, hugging him back tight. "I love you, Jack." Whispered into his ear while you blink back tears.

You release him and stand, making sure he's settled back into his activity and occupied, before turning to Haley. She stands, walks with you a small distance away from Jack. It isn't fair, what's happening to her. You don't really hold anything against her. It's awful, entirely awful what's happening - her whole life was about to be uprooted because of your jobs. Because of all of your collective failure to catch Foyet the first time. It was your mistake and her and Jack were going to pay for it.

You look up at her and you can see how entirely scared she is of what's about to happen. To have to do this on your own was one thing. Doing it with a partner, another. To have to do it all alone while supporting a child - she wouldn't have anyone she knew to rely upon. All by herself and unable to trust anyone.

"We're going to find him. We're gonna catch him. I promise." You know words were of little solace but that's all you have to give right then.

She smiles, a watery smile to match the unshed tears in her eyes. There's a shaky nod before she moves forward, hugging you in much the same manner Jack had. She's a bit taller than you, so you try to stand straight, allowing her to lean against you. "Take care of him." Her voice is a whisper against your ear, as though she's entrusting you with something extremely precious. Which she is, you suppose. She's counting on you to make sure that Hotch would be alright. That Jack's father would be fine, awaiting his son's return.

"I will."

*------------*

It had been a week since Foyet had left Hotch outside the hospital. A week since Haley and Jack had been taken into WITSEC protective custody and given new identities in an unknown location. A week since Morgan had become the new acting Unit Chief of the BAU, taking over in Hotch's stead. To the public - to the outside world - and especially to Foyet, it had to seem like his attack on Hotch had left him completely alone and broken - no wife, no kid, no team to lead.

You hated it.

The team had been assigned a new case late Sunday evening after you'd all pretty much spent the past couple of days in the hospital. Hotch was discharged earlier in the day and was under strict orders to stay on bedrest for the time being. You'd all flown out early Monday morning and it was now Saturday evening, the case having stretched out the entire week due to the Unsub's kill schedule.

You got back home after submitting your report, grabbing a water and a pack of the little bunny crackers you keep on hand for Jack. You're pretty sure you won't be seeing Jack before those expire and someone should eat them. You shower and get dressed for bed, thinking about Hotch. You knew he was home and would be coming back to work next week, doing the absolute bare minimum bed rest that the doctor had mandated. You're fairly certain the doctor had been intimidated into it by Hotch's severe face, daring him to say anything longer than a week.

It's fairly late by the time you actually crawl into bed, plugging your phone into the charger by the nightstand and flickering off the lights, plunging the room into darkness save for the red glow of the alarm clock stating that it was now eleven o'clock. You wonder if anyone has checked in on him while the team has been away. Perhaps Jess, but she must also be out of her mind with worry about Haley and Jack.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you've grabbed your phone and scrolled to his name in your Favorites, pressing on it. You hold the phone up to your ear and listen as it rings, once, twice, thrice, until you hear the sound of it being picked up.

"Hotchner." His voice is low but doesn't sound sleepy, so you're at least confident that you hadn't woken him up. Having nothing to do but lay around must be messing with his carefully regulated sleep schedule.

You suppress a laugh at his formal no-nonsense greeting, even though he undoubtedly knows it's you. "Hey." Your voice comes out breathier than intended.

"Is everything alright?" There's a slight edge evident in his voice and you realize that maybe calling him at eleven at night when his wife - ex-wife - and kid are being kept away safe wasn't exactly the right move.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's alright. I'm sorry. I just called to check in. How are you?"

There's a pause where you can hear the ambient sounds of your house settling in along with him shifting - the rustling of a bedsheet and the groan of the frame as he moves to adjust himself. So he had been in bed when you called.

Finally, you hear, "I'm alright. Thank you for dropping off the food."

"Yeah, yeah of course," you respond, your heartbeat picking up a bit for some reason. You figure it's because you're unsure of the call itself still and knowing that Hotch was in bed and you'd likely disturbed him in some sense at least, makes you feel a little uneasy.

For his part, Aaron had been going stircrazy, sitting at home with nothing whatsoever to do. The Marshalls had taken Haley and Jack the very same day. Dave had taken him from the hospital and back to his apartment and Garcia and JJ had dropped by the same day with some groceries and a couple of ready to eat meals for him.

He spent most of Sunday sleeping, the strong painkillers making him drowsy. Monday morning, he awoke to his doorbell and his nurse, Eric, from the hospital was there to help him with the dressage. He didn't think that was covered by his insurance - he could only imagine how much home visits from a medical professional cost - and had told Eric there was some sort of mistake. However, Eric had insisted that someone at the hospital had already worked it out and insurance wasn't an issue - this was a covered service apparently. Since Aaron already knew him, and he really could use the help, he'd let him in. Eric had entered holding a large box of food as well, that he said had been left at the door along with a note. After Eric left, Aaron had opened the box to reveal pre-portioned meals - all homemade, all different, all things he could throw in a microwave easily. The note was just signed with your name, telling him to call if he needed anything else.

He'd slept through most of the days, awakening only to let Eric in daily. He ate only because he had to in order to take his medications. Otherwise his mind was a haze of thoughts and worries - worrying about Jack and Haley, about Foyet being around the next corner, about the team managing without him, and somewhere at the farthest reaches of his mind your face danced around - worried and concerned for him, despite doing your very best to appear otherwise.

When your name flashed across his phone late at night, at first he felt the thrust of panic - that something had happened. And then there's your voice, calm and even, asking him how he's doing. No one else had called him. Dave and Prentiss had texted once or twice over the week, but with a case going on, everyone had been busy.

There's a brush of silence after he thanks you for the food and he can hear you take a breath and shift ever so much. He realizes that you're calling him while most likely lying in bed. It causes his heart to speed up and a tight coil to begin tightening in his stomach. It's utterly benign - he has no reason to feel that way, and yet, yet he does.

"How was the case?" he asks, desperate for someone to speak with, not wanting the phone call to end.

You're slightly surprised but you easily talk him through the details of the case, the profiling process and how the team had approached it. You find yourself babbling on for a while as he asks you questions about the evidence, how the local detectives had been, how the team was doing.

Aaron listens to you, taking it all in. You're good at this, providing all the details you know he'd want. You notice everything, all the little things. How the local detectives had responded to Morgan being in charge - how it had been easier for JJ to liaise with them more closely instead. How Reid was getting much more comfortable with having a weapon in the field. There's a soft, sleepy quality to you despite your obvious willingness to tell him everything. Your voice like a salve, doing more for him than any of the medications the doctors had prescribed.

He's not sure when or how, but the conversation has meandered from the case to something Prentiss had told you once, to a story he had of Dave and Gideon back when he first joined the team, and then to a professor of yours from college who had been particularly invested in the Bundy trials in a near obsessive manner. He finds himself laughing for the first time since that night at the bar with you.

When his eyes next catch the time, it is past 2AM. You'd been on the phone for the past three hours. Before this, the longest phone call he's ever had was fifteen minutes.

"It's late," he whispers, almost as though he doesn't want you hear him. "You should get some sleep."

You glance at your clock and find yourself shocked at how long the two of you had been on the phone together. Who knew Hotch was even capable. Though, you figure, you'd been doing the bulk of the talking, rambling on about something or the other. He must be utterly exhausted of listening to your voice.

"You should too," you murmur through a yawn, your eyes flickering under the weight of your lashes.

"Good night, Y/N." You can hear a smile in his voice and it's almost as though you can feel him - the way he feels when he hugs you, warm and strong, firm against you, surrounding you completely with his being.

"Night Hotch."

*------------*

Hotch had been back a couple of weeks and the team was adjusting. While Morgan was indeed the public face of the team, Hotch was very still involved and working far too much behind the scenes. You've kept an eye on him, looking for signs of him overexerting himself. He is, of course. He's burying himself in work, diving in head first because that's likely easier than focusing on everything else. So far, all you've done is give him looks that say Shouldn't you be going home? and Is this really what you want to spend a Wednesday at 9PM doing? He doesn't acknowledge them openly but you know that he knows that you see exactly what he's trying to do. He'll leave once he realizes that you're staying if he is.  

You're not quite sure how to check on him during the weekends. Before, you used to have Jack as the reason why you saw him. Now, without Jack, you're not quite sure how to go about seeing Hotch and making sure he's alright, without it somehow being seen as overstepping. You nudge Rossi to go check on him one of the days and then another, you invited the entire team over for dinner so that you know he ate. You know he won't let you cook for him if he's no longer on bedrest, even though the way he holds his gun and the sharp inhale he takes anytime he has to put the Kevlar on is extremely telling.

JJ wants everyone in the conference room on the other side of the floor since your regular one is taken and she calls you to inform everyone of the change in venue for the scheduled meeting. You glance up from your desk after having told Derek and Emily of the location change, trusting them to tell Spencer when he returns. JJ isn't expecting everyone for another half hour, and Emily had caught Rossi as he was heading out to lunch, so he's also aware. Emily and Derek follow in his steps, asking if you're going to join them, but you wave them on ahead.

You take the steps up to Hotch's office swiftly, knocking and turning the knob in one motion, only to find him standing behind his desk, no jacket or tie, shirt unbuttoned, a patch of red visible on his skin from one of the stab wounds inflicted by Foyet. He looks up at you and you can feel the surprise in his eyes. It was your fault, you should've waited. That was stupid. Your eyes can't seem to look away from the blood spotting the otherwise white wrappings that sit in a pile on the desk.

"I - I'm sorry," you stutter out, blinking and trying to make sense of the sight in front of you. You notice that his shirt was also equally marred, the blood having seeped through. You'd obviously interrupted him.

He draws a breath, and you can see him try to put on a mask of being unbothered by your sudden appearance. "Did you need something?"

'Um, JJ had to move the briefing to the other conference room," you inform him, still unable to look away. You're staring. You know are. It's dawning upon you how entirely you'd fucked up. Hotch was such a private person. He'd hate having someone see him in such a state of vulnerability.

He nods. "Thank you. Could you close the door, please?"

You don't move from your spot in the doorway.

"Y/N?"

You're not sure what exactly has overcome you, except this overwhelming need to take care of him. Especially now, right then when he's hurting. Bleeding quite literally. Hotch takes care of everyone. Every single one of you. But no one takes care of him. Not the way he needs to be cared for.

You cross the threshold, shutting and locking the door behind you. He seems entirely taken aback as you approach him silently. There's a voice in your head telling you that this, right here, this was the definition of overstepping. Yet, there is a more insistent compulsion residing within you, urging you forward until you've reached him. He looks at you, confusion in his features.

"Let me." You reach for the alcohol wipes on the table, meant to disinfect the affected region.

He doesn't say anything, but he also doesn't move, making it difficult for you to actually reach him as he's standing flush to his desk. He only looks at you, brows scrunched together, the pronounced cleft of his lower lip set tightly.

"Let me." You repeat yourself, moving forward and forcing him to back up a little and make room for you. You deftly move to sit on his desk, facing him, and beckon him towards you without looking up. If you looked up, you might lose your nerve.

You part your legs and much to your surprise, he actually moves forward, coming to settle between them. You can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You're suddenly very aware of the friction between his dress pants and the material of your own fitted ones.

You take the alcohol wipe and tear open the packaging, unraveling the cloth before cautiously moving towards him and dabbing at the area that seemed to have opened up slightly. He releases a sharp hiss and suddenly, his hand is at your waist, gripping tightly. You pause, looking up at his face. His eyes are shut, lips pressed tightly together. After a second, he nods, indicating at you to continue. He doesn't make a sound again as you clean up the area, though he does tighten his grip ever so slightly a couple more times.

You look at the items on his desk and pick up the jar of salve that he must put on prior to the dressings. Carefully, you unscrew the lid, looking up at him with a question in your eyes. He nods again, barely looking at you.

You try to do it quickly. Fingers picking up some of the salve and gingerly spreading it over the region, brushing past raised skin, puckered up as it heals. Slowly. Not fast enough for him.

Aaron watches as your head is bent, teeth biting down on your lower lip in concentration as you gently span the entirely of his chest and stomach. Soft, dainty fingers quickly working so as to put him out of his misery faster.

Of all people, he didn't want you to see him this way. So vulnerable, so exposed, so scarred. You'd thrown him off balance when you hadn't quickly scampered away after you realized your error in barging in. Approached him with such purpose that he hadn't known how to turn you away.

You reach for the fresh roll of gauze next, swallowing as you look up at him once again. "This would be easier if you take the shirt off."

He shrugs it off at your words, placing it on the back of his chair. There's a fresh shirt on the seat of his chair. He'd been prepared, it would seem.

"This might put a dent in the line of women waiting to pounce." He indicates towards his chest, self deprecation dripping from his weak attempt at humor, in an effort to cut whatever imaginary tension he had made up in his head.

You look at his face, seeing the vulnerability and insecurity as plain as can be. He doesn't need to verbalize his thoughts in order for you to know exactly what he's thinking. What he's been thinking.

Who would want someone this grotesque?

Who would want a man as broken as this?

Who could possibly bear the sight of him - marred forever? His very flesh a perpetual reminder of the terror he wades through, the monsters he encounters, the horror that is his life.

"No."

Your answer is simple, straightforward. Yet nothing has ever confused him more as he watches you hold one end of the gauze to the front of his chest near the top of the scarring, and then bring the roll around his back, over it to hold it in place, your small hands ghosting over his skin with the utmost propriety, intent in making this as painless, as easy, as comfortable for him as possible.

"I'm not going to tell you some patronizing bullshit about scars being beautiful."

You control your breath in easy measured paces, forcing him to follow along. One breath in. Pause. Breath out. Repeat. You continue to wrap the dressing around his chest slowly, your eyes fixed on the task at hand to ensure that it was all straight and even, tight but not too tight.

"They do, however, speak to all that you've endured. All that you've conquered. Overcome. Anyone who loves you will see you just as you are. They would think you absolutely incredible. Regardless of anything. Because of it all."

Aaron focuses on your voice, soft and melodic and yet sure. So very sure. How could you possibly be so sure?

"Someone who loves you will see the scars," your fingers press ever so slightly against his chest, "and they will know. They will know all that you've undergone to become who are - how you survived despite the odds."

You take a sudden shuddered breath as you recall the sight of him unconscious in the hospital bed, being wheeled past you. You're quick to shake it away.

"They will be grateful. To have you, scars and all."

You finish, tucking in the end of the gauze firmly and ensuring it wouldn't come loose with just the slightest of motions.

You look up at him then, finally meeting his eyes properly. Beautiful, deep brown eyes with flecks of gold brought on by the late afternoon sunlight that was filtering through the windows.

Aaron can't help but look at you. He rarely gets to see you this up close. So very close. If he were to just bend down the smallest amount, there'd be no space at all. Your hair bundled back into a professional low bun, soft wisps framing your face. The cupid's bow lips - pouty, pink, perfect lips. The upturned nose and the slight babyface cheeks that accompanied it. He realizes his hand is still gripped onto your waist and he's reluctant to remove it. Not yet. In a bit. Not yet.

"Thank you." His eyes are closed as he says it so he misses it when you nod your acknowledgement.

You lean past him, one hand grabbing his forearm for balance while the other reaches for the shirt on the chair. You'd started the job. Might as well finish it. You unbutton the collar and he takes it from you, quickly slipping it on, and yet not moving away. His hand returns to your waist. Staying where you could easily reach up and start buttoning it for him. So you do.

Aaron knows you don't need a response to everything you'd said. He also is quite certain that you believe it. No matter the entirely shallow world you'd been a part of, he knows that you aren't like that. You might be a little vain - the nice clothes and makeup, the care you put into your own appearance. However, you're not vain like this.

Aaron breathes out a deep sigh that he'd been holding for some time as you dexterously work each button into its proper hole. He really could get used to this. To you.

"Why do you always sit on stuff?" His voice is soft and low, calmer.

You glance up, noting the slight humor dancing behind his eyes while he waits for your answer.

You can't help but smile, a breath of laughter escaping you just barely. "I suppose…because I'm short," you admit, shaking your head as you continue down the trail of buttons. "Makes it easier for me to be at eye level if I sit on higher surfaces."

He laughs. A near boisterous laugh. His chest rumbles underneath your hands, causing your fingers to tremble.

You can't help but laugh along with him, releasing a deep held breath as you do.

He would be alright. He would.

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 5/7 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Summary:

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

(Note: Bold Italic script indicates Nureyev speaking Brahmese) 

Chapter 5

“God Damnit Thief!  Pick up your damned coms when the bloody doctor calls!"

"Again, apologies Vespa, I-" he coughed weakly into his hand, tripoding over his knees.

"Do you know how many times I had to call you?  Do you?"  

Nureyev sighed "Afraid not-"

"Seven !  Seven goddamn times!  Thought you were dead !  Or Steel!  Or captured or whatever!  We're in enough crap as it is without you two adding to the pile!"

“Vespa, I-”

“If you say you’re sorry one more time, Thief; I swear to god I’ll snap your scrawny neck!"

"I'm-" he caught himself mid apology, "Understood-"

"I haven't heard Steel's voice, where is he?"

"Juno's- sleeping." Which is what he himself had been doing up to the moment Vespa rang. Stupid- a rookie mistake-

"Oh?  And how sure are you of that thief?"

Nureyev wiped the sweat off of his face, "I'm sure-" it had been the first thing he checked when the beeping of the comms woke him.  Even from here he could see the frantic rise and fall of Juno's chest.  The lady wasn't doing well.  

"Completely."  He coughed harder into an elbow.

Vespa sniff on the other end of the line.  Plainly suspicious, but that was nothing new.

"Fine, now you're on, we can get back to business…."  There was a clatter outside, his head snapped towards it ".... temperature down, or it can cause…." and another- "gotta make sure he's in the recovery…" and another and confound it all Nureyev, focus!  He shook himself back to the conversation just in time for Vespa to say "Did you get that Thief?"

"Hmm?  I ugh-" he floundered.  No, no he had not gotten it, and was just about to say so when he heard voices-

Lord, not now, please not now-

"Thief?"

Nureyev limped to a window.  Even in the dim light of the street lamps, he could make out the security uniforms of Galactic Stars First Bank.  

No-

Anxiety spiked his chest, making him queasy- or perhaps he already was-

Juno was in danger.  That much, he was certain of.  To say nothing about himself.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping lady.  Even with his features pinched and weary, he was beautiful-  

And vulnerable-

Plans began to formulate in his mind.  His first impulse was to find some crevice to hide in, to disappear.  But even with Juno’s help, he only just managed to get him to the sofa last time-  If they were found- well, he didn’t want to find out what they’d do to him.  

“Thief?!”

He could lure the guards inside, dispatch them quickly and save his leg the trouble-  But no, that would be too messy.  To say nothing of Juno’s sensibilities, inviting guards into their hiding spot introduced more blind variables than he’d care to gamble with.

Which left luring them away- Sharp teeth worried away at his bottom lip.  The injury would make things- challenging.  But he didn’t have to be fast.  After all, it was a fool who thought the best getaway vehicle was the fastest-  

What he needed now was a strategy; and to know how many employees he’d have to contend with.  

“God Damnit Ransom, the hell-”

“Apologies Vespa, I need Rita.”

“What?!”

“Ha-How many guards, am I dealing with- Rita?” Nureyev grimaced, pressing his back tight to the apartment's tinker toy brickwork.  Rita’s voice was going fuzzy around the edges, as though muffled.

It had been harder than anticipated to pick his way past the patrolling guards, yet alone work his way out of the safe house.

“Two, maybe four in your sector Mista Ransom.”

“Which is it? ”

“Hugh?”

“Which is it?  The- er- two, or the four?” there was a throb of pain that made his breath hitch.  Along with that ever present burning, biting its way deep.  

“Not sure but- are- are you alright Mista Ransom?”

“I- am a tad worse for wear.  Which is why I’d like to resolve this matter quickly.”

“Ohhh, ohh right!  Well Rita can help with that!”

“Thank you Rita.  Now- which way to the two or four individuals?”

He allowed Rita to guide him through the quiet streets.  She informed him that a dome wide lockdown had been initiated while the intruders were at large.  Sure enough, when he tried a few doors in passing, they refused to yield under his touch.  The citizens took the lockdown seriously.  

Nureyev made sure to make plenty of noise. He needed a show if he wanted this plan to work.  What worried him was that he was only half acting as he stumbled his way over the cobbles on a stiff leg.  He allowed himself to knock into bins and topple items into cars.  The noise he raised wasn’t loud, per say, but it was conspicuous on the quiet streets.  

“Where are these guards Rita?”

“They’ll be coming up any minute Mista Ransom, you just keep your eyes Peeled!  Make a right up here-” she directed “Peeled, hugh, ever consider what a weird thing it is to say.  That you should keep your eyes peeled?   I mean you do that and your eyes ain't gonna be good no more, least of all you.  Oh!  But there was this one stream where the monster worked its way out of a beautiful man!  Which was such a waist but what do I know about streams?  And its eyes were doing this crazy-”

“Any- minute?” he was starting to have doubts about using his own injured self as bait. He filed that deep in his mind.

“What?  Oh!  Yeah!  You got some baddies commin’ up right behind you.”

“Behind- Are you sure?” he panted.  

“Yeah of course I’m sure Mista Ransom!”

A quick turn confirmed Rita’s intel.  He was indeed being followed.  

They shouted something at his back, and Nureyev picked up his pace to a skip-hop, while his pursuers broke into a run.   A plasma bolt shot past his ear, sending a jolt of adrenaline through.  In answer he flipped over several barrels.  They cascaded into the small space, messing the ally nicely.  That should slow them down some.  It had to.

There was no time to pay attention to the ache of his lungs or the fire coursing through his leg.  Even as each step pushed him that much closer to being physically ill.  

File it away, Damn you- just file it away-

He screwed his eyes shut and pushed forward.  Forcing himself to keep moving, to keep breathing, to keep-

He plowed headlong into an old chain link fence with enough force to knock him to the ground with a strangled cry.  The traitorous links rattled and clinked all the way up to their restraints.  As if to add insult to injury, they stretched maybe ten, fifteen feet in the air.  There wasn’t a hope of making it over before his acquaintances caught up.  

“Mista Ransom?!” Rita sounded scared, she’d even stopped typing.  “What happened?”

“There’s-” he coughed “There’s a- barrier- ” There was another word, a better word, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of it.  It was taking all his effort to push upright on shaking arms, threading his fingers into the wire mesh to haul himself to his feet.  

“A barrier?  Like a wall or a buildin’ or somethin?  None of that is showing up on my schema-”

“A fence- Is there another way round?”  He took a moment to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry but, there isn’t anythin’ on the map.  Ya gotta get to the other side before ya have options.  Can’t you like, break through or somethin?”

Break through, of course, Nureyev could kick himself; it was so simple.  He extracted one of his plasma cutters from a pocket, heat humming through the blade.  In the end, it wasn’t even a good fence.  The blade made quick work of the links, slicing through them as one might margarine.  

Another blaster shot forced him through the cherry red ruin of a hole before it had a chance to cool.  He brought his arm up, shielding his face even as the sharp edges racked along his coat, hitting his leg- he hissed, nausea threatening to overtake him.  

“Mista Ransom?”

He scrambled to the other side, barely keeping upright.  

“Mista Ransom!  You’ve got more company comin’ straight at you!”

“What-” his voice cracked in exhaustion.  Through the gloom, he could just make out the second pair barreling down the narrow passage.  He could hear them barking orders at him now, probably instructing him to surrender or other such nonsense that he had no intention of following.  

“They’ve brought reinforcements!  They’re gonna’ block your escape roots!”

“Reinforcements?”

“There’s at least four more heading straight at you!”

Nureyev glanced back and spotted the first pair shoving through the debris.  Then that would make six-  Six on one, he didn’t like those odds.  A wrong step sent a jolt through him, his weakened leg nearly buckling under his weight sending him into a wall.  Again the world went fuzzy, blood rushing to his ears.

He wondered if the Carte Blanche really would come back for him if he’d got captured.  Something made him doubt it even as he shoved the ugly thought deep into a file.  

Think Nureyev.

Time, he needed time.  A had drifted to the modest arsenal on his chest.  There were a few smoke bombs he hadn’t touched, but the situation called for something more dire-

He plucked a pepper grenade from the clip, lobbing it over the fence with the practiced ease of one who’d spent hours on throwing knives.  Smoke tracked it’s flight through the air.  It struck the ground at the guard’s feet.  They yelled, scrambling back just as it erupted.  The choking fumes swallowed them in seconds.  

Nureyev was no longer paying mind to them, attention bent entirely at the remaining guards.  Four on one were more....manageable.  

He rushed the closest set, drawing a twin to his first blade wheeling them in tandem.  The man was no fighter, as soon as he got into their space, the man shrank back, his blaster forgotten.  

A tingling burn flushed across exposed skin making his heart plummet.  He’d made a mistake.  Nureyev hadn't accounted for the wind-

Spurred by the change in fortune, Nureyev dispatched the man quickly; maneuvering out of the way as he crumpled.  Life’s blood spilled over the cobbles soon obscured by smoke.

Smoke?  

Twisting and contorting, the smoke seemed to grow till it engulfed everything in its path.  Pouring down the cramped space.  The remaining guards tried to run, but were soon overtaken, same as the Thief.

Nureyev's throat closed against the onslaught.  He gagged and coughed over the very air, vision hopelessly obscured by tears.  The only good news was that he could hear his attackers do the same.  Panic began to fog his reason.  

He no longer noticed the burning of his skin or eyes, or the way his nose was running; no longer could feel the pain in his leg.  He couldn’t breathe, he couldn't breathe .  The single thought spun round and round in his brain, desperately trying to figure a way around it.  He clung to the wall with every ounce of strength he possessed.  The coughing picked up even harder now till his chest crushed in like a deflated balloon.

Try as he will, his lungs would not expand.  There was simply no more air.

“Mista Ransom?” Rita, in the coms!  Rita who was still very much with him.  There was hope!  

Just then a hand clenched around a fistful of his hair, dragging Nureyev lower still.  He’d been found, even in a place like this, they’d still found him.  The employees of Galactic Stars First Bank were more like his creditors than Nureyev liked.  Even now she was growling at him in anger.  

Though he couldn’t understand the language, he knew she was asking questions.  Her breaths were short and forced yet still she managed to talk.  Had he not been in the grips of fear, he would have found her admirable.  

“Mista Ransom?!”

Through his bleary eyes, he could make out the cyan glow of a blaster pointed down under his nose.  She meant to shoot him, but was hesitating.  At any other time, he'd wonder why-  Instead he reached up to claw, to cling at her wrist, still with a grip on his knives.  She twisted and he bowed lower, leg quaking, his hand slipped and-

“Ah!” she squealed as his plasma blade bit into her arm, flinging  him back to a wall.  The impact miraculously forced air back into his lungs.  Though as soon as he got it, his body started to cough it back up.  Furiously he clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to hold it in.

It didn't work.

“Mista Ransom!” If Rita had sounded scared before, that was nothing compared to now.  Her voice was small and tentative in a way that would break any heart.  Even so, he latched onto her voice with everything he was worth.  

The light of the guard's weapon danced before him.  She may have been hurt, but she wasn’t down yet.  What’s worse was that she seemed to be calling for backup.  

The blade sang out of his fingers, digging itself into her thigh. This time she screamed and hacked, scrambling for the off switch while Nureyev made his escape.  It hadn't been where he'd been aiming, but close enough.  With any luck, she'd have trouble moving for a time.  

“R-ita-” he choked out, managing tiny gasps, every one a massive effort.

“What’s going on!  Have you been Gassed!!!!!” thank stars he would not have to explain.

“Y-yes-” he gave into a violent coughing fit.

“Oh-Okay, you need me to show you the way out!”

“Yes-” the fight had turned him around, making it impossible to tell which way to go.  He wanted to be free of the smoke as soon as possible.

“Can Do!  Oh!  This is just like one of those Spy streams like- well, never mind that right now.  Alright Mista Ransom, I’m gonna need you to move forwards about a hundred meters.” She instructed conspiratorially.  He obliged, thankful to leave the thinking to her.  Using the wall to keep him straight.  “Be careful when you reach the fork!” she cautioned “The passage on your left has a few baddies, the one on your right is clear!”  

On his right- he could just make out two voids stretching before him.  Stealing his resolve he propelled himself right and mercifully broke through the miasma.  He crashed into a dumpster, nearly running smack into the center of another set of guards.  

It had been the wrong way.  

There would be no time to recover, no time for rest.  Furiously he wiped his eyes and gulped down recycled air.  

Rita shrieked in his ear, “Not your right, my right!” but he had no choice but to tune her out.  

The fresh opponent rushed him, their partner charging their blaster.  Nureyev stumbled back towards the smoke, just managing to use his attacker’s momentum to spin them round into their partner.  Their partner roared, firing shots off at random as they fell.  Blaster spun out of their grip on impact.  A stray bolt savaged one of Nureyev’s coat pockets, scattering it’s contents on the stones.  Hopefully there wouldn’t have been anything important in there.  

Nureyev readjusted his knife grip and threw at the tangle of limbs.  One of the figures stilled.  He hobbled towards them as fast as he could, retrieving the blade.  He’d already lost one and that was one too many.  

It was a mistake.

Pain shot through his leg making him cry out.  He fell hard separated anew from his weapon.  He’d been struck down by the spare guard.  They spat words that were sure to be insults as they disentangled themselves from the motionless body.

Nureyev gasped, twisting away towards the fallen blaster.  It had landed some distance away, but one advantage of long limbs was reach-  The guard growled and caught his foot, drawing him backwards.  He kicked out and the hands clawed higher.  It seemed they both were trying for the same weapon.

"Let go- " Nureyev bit out attempting to dislodge the guard.

"Never, scum- " they shot back in perfect Brahmese.  Before that could sink in, fingers jammed into his bandages, into the wound-  Nureyev keened, paralyzed by the shock of it.  

First rule of thriving Pete, you can't afford to be loud.

Rita shrieked all the louder.  Nureyev was at once hot and cold and utterly overwhelmed..  He knew he was hurt, thank you, he knew it!  He could do without the constant reminders.  

The guard made use of their opportunity by clambering over Nureyev.  Hand planted on his spine, pushing him down.  The thief refused to let it be that easy; scanning for something, anything he could use-

There!

His pocket knife!  

Nureyev’s arm shot out, scooping up the tool and flicking it open.  He twisted, simultaneously throwing them off and swiping upwards.  The blade bit into cloth and flesh.  They reared back startled, leaving Nureyev to wriggle free.  On hands and knees he scrambled to the blaster.  

Nureyev may not have the skills of a certain lovely sharp shooter, but at a distance like this, he couldn't miss.  

The stunner went straight to their chest and all went quiet.  He folded over, resting his forehead on the damp of the grimy street, forcing down bile once more.

"Mista Ransom!!!  Oh Mista Ransom!  Are you there?  Please say you're there, cuz I'm not sure how I could face the boss if I…."

"Rita-"

"....got you blown up or somethin, cuz know I'd miss you oh so much but Boss- oh I couldn't imagine-"

"I'm- ha- I'm fine- Rita-" he tried again, louder this time.  His voice was thick and rough, entirely unlike the persona he’d been so careful to maintain around the crew.

There was a loud clatter from the other end and a sharp intake of breath.  It sounded as though Rita knocked something over "Mista Ransom!  You ought to feel ashamed!  Scaring a girl like that!  Don’t you know that-" she cut off abruptly “Ugh oh, Mista Ransom!  You gotta get out of there, stat!  There are reinforcements on the way and I don't think they are too happy!”

Nureyev groaned and thanked Rita.  He supposed it was a lucky thing that he was so averse to capture.  It had been a long time since cold stone had been so welcoming.  

“What are you waiting’ for Mista Ransom?”

“N-nothing- Rita.  Merely -becoming acquainted with the cobble work.” he murmured.  In truth, he was drained to his core.  His head was spinning, body aching, leg burning and he was just so- thirsty.  There was at least something he could do about the last one, but not for a while, and not without getting up.  The entire distraction had taken far more out of him than anticipated.  

“Mista Ransom, you know I don’t speak nothin but Solar-” she started, but he wasn’t listening.  

Distraction.  His mind snagged on the word.

That was right, he was luring Galactic Star’s First Bank away from Juno.  Juno, gorgeous, wonderful Juno who’d taken a poison dart for him, who needed him right now.  

Nureyev had to get back to him, no matter what.  

In the end, Nureyev had trusted Rita to guide him back to the safe house.  She’d insisted after he nearly ran into another set of guards.  He was too tired to fight.  More than once considering folding himself up into a corner and waiting for the excitement to die down.  Moving in the open like this- didn't sit well with him.  

It took a lot longer to return to the grubby street of the safe house, and longer still to check and recheck he hadn’t been followed or bugged.  

“Thank you again- Rita-”  Privately he vowed to do something nice for her if and when they’d return to the ship.

“Oh and Mista Ransom?”

“Hm?”

“Take care of yourself, alright?  Ya make Mista Steel real happy- and- and I want ya both back in one piece okay?”

Nureyev was taken aback for a moment, mind blanking over the words.  It was- touching, and he had no idea what to do with that.  

He cleared his throat.  “I will do everything in my power to make that happen.” and he meant it.  

[Special thanks to Scarlet_Trust who got me excited about this again.  Please, Please go over and read their wonderful works!]

[antihero-writings]

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch11)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Alright everyone I'M BACK ...And I'm so so SO sorry that I took so long to update. Over the past few months I took my first real break from posting fanfiction overall in a long time.

Before I posted this chapter, I actually ended up heavily editing some of the previous chapters, which I'd like to inform those who read the originals about first. (Currently only the Ao3 version, and the reblog version of this fic with the picture on top are up-to-date.)

* I made Tom overall more polite. I was of the belief that his politeness was not an innate trait, and without memory, he would be a bit more unpleasant, and then we could see him grow with time. I do still believe it's not an innate personality trait, but a couple things made me realize he really should act differently in my fic. * I made Snape treat Tom better in the interrogation chapter. Both at the beginning and end. I liked the ending with the Levicorpus spell, and I do kinda miss it, especially because it informed Harry's reactions, but I think it was just too mean, especially because of something I'm going for later. * I added a conversation with the other boy in the hospital wing. (By the way, if you go back to read that and can think of more things they should talk about, don't hesitate to let me know!)

...I think those are all the big things! Feel free to offer feedback on the changes if you read them!

I'm so sorry to everyone who was hoping for faster updates. I truly do appreciate your comments and support deeply, and hope that you will continue to read and still enjoy it. I would still love to hear what you think!! <3 <3

Chapter 11: The House of Books

“The summer? With you? And Harry Potter?”

Tom had been examining the objects Snape had brought him—objects which had apparently once belonged to him—and blinked, raising his head to look at him.

“Believe me, I am not thrilled about it either.”

“No, it’s not that—well, it is—it’s just…” He paused, running his fingers along the clothes laid out on the bed before him, then squinted up at Snape. “I’m trying to discern why this is a good idea.”

Snape looked away, seemingly wondering that himself.

“I think, with time, you’ll find that our headmaster has a very unique sense of what is good for others. He believes uncomfortable situations often serve for people’s betterment.” He looked off to the side and muttered, “Whether or not they agree.”

“What sort of ‘betterment’ does this serve?”

“I suppose he would like the three of us to…”—He exhaled—“get along.”

Tom raised an eyebrow a second time, as if to say Us? Really?

“Futile though it may be,” Snape added.

Tom bit his lip, internally assessing the situation as he also returned to assessing the objects.

It wasn’t ideal—that didn’t need stating. Tom had a difficult time fathoming why Dumbledore—who seemed to bear him no ill-will—would want him to live with one person who had a rather insurmountable grudge against him, and another who didn’t seem to like him much better. He wanted them to ‘get along?’ `Surely that couldn’t be it. There had to be more to it.

Was Dumbledore really so naive as to think they’d grow closer instead of hate each other more? Not that he quite understood why they hated each other in the first place.

“Is there a reason I can’t stay here over the summer? I wouldn’t mind.”

Clearly Snape would have preferred that as well.

“You no doubt heard at the Feast that there has been some question as to whether Hogwarts is entirely safe. The Board of Governors likely wouldn’t approve of a student staying over the summer until they are able to deny these suspicions. Also, the headmaster wants you to learn magic over the summer, and due to few teachers possessing a proclivity to stay at Hogwarts during this time, we must make other arrangements.”

Tom’s breath bated at the reveal that he’d be learning magic, his mind beginning to buzz. He tried not to let his excitement leak into his voice:

“You’ll be teaching me magic?”

“Do keep up.”

“So…” He sat back. ���What’s Harry going to do?”

“Mister Potter will be…taking up space as usual, I presume.”

Tom stifled a laugh; he hadn’t been expecting such a response from a professor.

“You don’t like Harry, do you?”

“I’m not…particularly fond of him.”

“Is it too forward of me to say it doesn’t appear you’re particularly fond of me either?”

“I pains me to say you’ll have adequate time to learn there aren’t a great many things I feel an extensive amount of fondness for.”

Tom could already see it now.

“Consider it a trial period, of sorts.” Snape swept around the room as he altered the direction of conversation. “If you are able to succeed over the summer, you may continue your schooling at Hogwarts when the next year begins. How much you learn, and how quickly, will determine the year in which you are placed. That is, if you’re placed in any year at all.” He looked down his hooked nose at him like that was both the most likely option, and the most preferable.

Tom could tell hidden behind his words was the idea that this ‘trial period’ was about more than just how adept he was at magic. He’d didn’t need telling that he’d have to be careful in more ways than magical.

“Do you have any other business to attend to before we leave?”

“Wait, we’re leaving now?”

“I don’t come to the hospital wing for pleasant chats if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tom bit his lip. In all honesty he would have liked to stay and explore the school more, but he could tell Snape wasn’t the kind of person one could negotiate such things with.

He turned back to the items that were supposed to be his.

“Is this really all I have?” He asked softly.

Sure all the essentials were there: clothes, books, toiletries and the like, but nothing more personal. No pictures for his nightstand, or even a keepsake to remind him of home, of family. Nothing that could tell him a little more about himself.

Snape paused a moment before he replied: “All of which I’m aware.”

Tom didn’t say anything. Merely put everything back in the trunk and followed Snape to the door.

“Don’t you have anything to bring home with you?” Tom asked.

“Don’t you think a skilled wizard such as myself would have methods of sending it to its proper location?”

They spent the walk across the grounds in silence, which could probably be considered steely, though Tom didn’t mind. The grounds around Hogwarts, and what little he saw of the castle, were altogether beautiful, and empty conversation would only have dulled his enjoyment. He turned around, walking backwards, a smile creeping upon his face upon at the sight of the castle in its full glory. He came to find this wasn’t a school, this was a palace, a haven.

A—

The word home rose to the surface of his chest.

It occurred to him this was the first time he’d smiled since he lost his memory. Really and truly smiled.

The feeling wasn’t half bad.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You like it?”

Tom cleared his throat. “It’s nice I guess.” But he couldn’t stuff the smile down, couldn’t quite figure out what this feeling was.

He must be a student, surely. Otherwise, why would he feel such fondness for the place?

He didn’t think Snape would reply, and was surprised to hear, barely audible, “I always thought as much.”

They arrived at a wrought iron gate with winged boars on either side—(really living up to the name, Tom supposed. All they needed was a decent amount of warts on them). Once they had passed through it, Snape stopped abruptly and held out his arm. It seemed he was expecting Tom to take it.

Tom wasn’t quite sure why he ought to do this, (and was rather offput by the thought of touching this man). Still, he did as he was told and—

He felt like he was being pigeonholed through a pipe. When the journey ended he was in an entirely new location, and wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t feel sick.

"Apparating for the first time can often make one feel unwell,” Snape informed the doubled-over Tom in a way that didn’t signify he really cared.

As Tom regained his bearings, he thought for a moment, in the same way he quite liked the walk along the grounds, he probably would have rather enjoyed traveling across the countryside. It struck him, that, while this sort of travel certainly got the job done, if wizards had a type of travel more like flying; allowing one to see the view, but also get where they needed to go quickly, he would like to learn it.

The new location, however, was far drearier and less pleasing to the eyes. Rather than an enchanting (and probably enchanted) forest, bordering sunny grounds, and a castle whose majesty was unmatched (at least in his current memory), this was a grimy, cobbled street, like a dull pencil: grey, disappointing, and without its sharpness.

He was almost certain the place was non-magical in nature. He couldn’t believe anyone magical would allow their cities to collect this much grime and…boringness. Identical brick townhouses lined those streets, their chimneys spewing smoke into the air, causing a low cloud of what could be either smog or fog to hang over the place, making the air warmer and more humid than necessary. Snape’s house was the last in the row, (at least, he assumed it was Snape’s as it was the one they were heading towards), and across from it he could see a black river winding through the mist.

Snape flicked his wand, unlocking what was presumably his front door.

Often houses have a certain, indefinable smell to them, but when Tom stepped inside this one, he found it wasn’t so indefinable: parchment, and old shoes, and maybe a little bit of neglect.

He could have fooled himself into thinking he’d walked into a bookstore. The walls were lined with books, the sofa and armchair in the corner creating a false sense of coziness—(‘false’ because nothing about this man said ‘cozy’). It had the air of being one of those spaces that is cluttered, but to call it anything but ‘neat’ would be an insult. Like a library of a devout scholar: cluttered with knowledge, yet, despite the fact that the shelves are puking pages, it all seems somehow perfectly in place.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Snape said in a tone that told him he didn’t want him to be comfortable at all. “Take care not to touch anything that isn’t yours.”

Tom’s eyes lidded. “So…don’t touch anything at all?”

“You’re catching on.” Snape smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes, not entirely sure Snape was joking.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

The words ‘your room’ were clipped, like the thought that it would belong to him for even a summer was repulsive. Though Tom could tell that before they arrived.

He opened a small door in the wall, which Tom would have thought another room, or perhaps a closet, but turned out to be a set of stairs.

After journeying up them, a hallway whose wood was in dire need of staining, dusty portraits whose stern eyes followed him as he walked by, and a decorative table with an empty vase upon it, greeted him.

The advertised room was small, and a bit stuffy, and a few of the floorboards creaked, but something told him he’d slept in worse conditions before.

Though it was a small house, they were able to keep to themselves. Snape was busy resettling into his house, and disinclined to give him a tour, and Tom, not having much to get settled in the first place, spent the time exploring his new surroundings.

He wandered around the library that was the downstairs, and the dingy hallways that were the upstairs. He took care not to enter what he assumed to be Snape’s room, as well as a few other locked rooms. He didn’t want to get on his bad side…if he even had a good side.

He quickly found he didn’t mind being around books. He had affinity for them, especially when their contents had to do with magic.

“Are these all about magic?” He asked Snape when he passed by.

“Some of them. It may surprise you to find most of them aren’t.”

“May I read them?” He asked, remembering Snape’s warning not to touch anything, as well as the fact that this was a ‘trial period.’

“If you cannot find ways to entertain yourself.”

“I’m sure I can. But you seem like the kind of man who appreciates silence.” He put his hands behind his back and smiled too pleasantly.

Snape pursed his lip.

They spent their time regarding each other as wolves encroaching on each others territories: they weren’t happy to be sharing the same space, but they couldn’t do anything but growl low until one of them made a move.

Later, when Snape made dinner, the action drew his attention from his book. Tom watched with fascination as Snape waved his wand with ease, and the ingredients floated and melded together of their own accord, like Snape’s wand knew what to say to them.

“Will I be able to do that?”

“A whole world of magic and you want to be able to make dinner?”

“Well—” Annoyance flared in Tom. “Of course I’d prefer to know much more exciting, dangerous things…but yes”

“Children are not allowed to use magic outside of school until they come of age…but, yes.”

The word ‘children’ in that condescending tone didn’t make him feel less annoyed.

“How come I’m able to do it, then? You’re able to teach me during the summer.”

“Dumbledore has his ways.”

Tom could tell he wouldn’t get any more information than that.

While they ate, Tom chanced a few more questions, and was surprised to find that it tasted quite good, and he thought he remembered someone once telling him good food does wonders for the soul.

He was glad to find that, despite Snape’s obvious distaste for him, and seemingly all things his age, he was cordial enough, and he certainly didn’t mind keeping to himself.

Tom was just thinking about asking when he’d start learning magic that evening, when a stack of books almost as tall as him landed on the table.

Flicking his eyes across the titles, he saw that each and every one of them something to do with magic.

“I expect you to have these read before before Potter arrives. Only then will I start teaching you magic.”

Tom leaned to the side to look at Snape and tried not to smirk.

“You sure this is everything? It doesn’t seem like quite enough.”

[peggingtaron]

Spectacle

‘Mad’ Teddy Smith x Reader

The Krays need publicity for the reopening of Esmeralda's Barn. As a famous heiress, it’s important that you’re seen enjoying yourself there; so the Krays assign ‘Mad’ Teddy to make a spectacle out of you.

Contains: Smut, with a capital S

Words: 4.7K

Masterlist

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Echoes of incessant whispers. Stares burning over your every move. These things were only to be expected everywhere you went. You were (Y/N, L/N), the ‘Duchess’ of Haggerston, informally dubbed by South London’s most prominent gangsters. 

Sure, you weren’t out there arbitrating criminal activity or enforcing illegal transactions as the men were. You worked for the mob in your own way. Your value to them was your mere presence and approval. Being the heiress of South London’s most influential mobster, you were an asset to both friends and foes. Allowing yourself to be seen enjoying yourself or purchasing goods and services at certain business establishments was considered an endorsement.

The recent buzz surrounding Esmerelda’s Barn since the Kray twins had taken over, had caught your eye. No doubt, the Krays were waiting for you to make an appearance to attract more attention. To you, they were doing just fine on their own. The casino had been the talk of London’s West End thanks to Reggie and Ronnie Kray’s dealings. Nonetheless, you walked alone into that casino with confidence and that signature enigmatic demeanour that never failed to turn heads. No matter how successful and popular a place was, you carried yourself there as if you were the very foundation holding the establishment together. It was all in the attitude; you could fool anyone into thinking they needed you.

You knew it was working by the way the Krays observed you from their table, glancing at you while talking amongst themselves. Every time you saw them look your way from the corner of your eye, you’d feign boredom just to get a kick out of how it would cue them to engage in a discussion of how to keep you entertained. 

The gentle vibrato of the star of Esmeralda’s Barn had been lulling over the casino. At this point in the night, most people had retreated to a table or a seat by the bar to watch the songstress. She was enchanting enough that you were willing to forfeit the act of seeming bored, to engage in the show. This was not lost on the Krays.

You finally allowed yourself to look their way from across the room. You met eyes with Ron, who greeted your gaze with a slight grimace, stiffening up his posture and turning over to Reggie, a silent yet gruff request for you to carry your eye contact to him instead. You did as he wanted, meeting eyes with Reggie who happily took the responsibility of greeting you. He etched his signature smooth smirk, giving a gentlemanly bow of his head. Reggie turned his head to Ron, whispering something in his ear, and while the two were engaged in conversation, your eyes wandered to where Ron’s arm reached round.

You were careful not to meet eyes with the man by Ron’s side. At least not right away. Looking at someone so intoxicatingly striking as ‘Mad’ Teddy was something you needed to do in doses. Your eyes started at his elbow that rested atop the table, slowly trailing up to peer at his hands, his fingertips lightly tracing the rim of his glass, stroking slowly to the rhythm of the music. The dose from that was intoxicating enough already, observing the delicacy yet precision of how his fingers curled around the glass edge. You lingered your gaze there a little longer before you began eyeing his suit, up his torso and finally resting your eyes on his shoulder where Ron’s arm was wrapped around. 

A cigar hung in between Ron’s fingers, his hand perched on Teddy’s shoulder. Teddy’s lips came into your focus as he turned his head, leaning in towards the cigar Ron was holding and taking a drag from it. Your eyes followed his lips as they pursed around the cigar ever so slightly grazing against Ron’s fingers. He turned his head, leaning back as the smoke escaped his mouth, misting around his face to frame a pair of roguish green eyes that were burning right into yours. You were finally looking at him. All the features you took your time observing individually now came all together in a complete picture.

As you finally let your gaze settle in his eyes, a smirk plastered across his face, one that started off coquettish. Subtle, yet alluring enough to lure the weakness in your centre. Though as Teddy’s ego became aroused by your stare, his grin grew wide and smug, a grin that made you surrender your eyes from him, making sure to roll them before returning your attention to the enchanting songstress on stage.

You and Teddy weren’t unfamiliar with these types of exchanges. This was one of many times you’ve met eyes, many of which ended with you rolling your eyes to assure him of a disinterest — which was ultimately a lie. You engaged in conversation a few times, mere small talk with the occasional flirtatious nickname on his part. Each conversation brief, yet tantalising enough for him to remain on your mind, the lingering image of him keeping you company on the ride home alone, and keeping you warm in the comfort of a lonely bed. 

Pretending your own fingers were Teddy’s each night was a task that grew difficult the more you bumped into him. Your imagination couldn’t do him justice and your own touch was not nearly enough to satiate your need. However, it was all you could content yourself with, as no scenario that you could think of would prompt Teddy to so much as caress you. Entertaining your yearning gazes at him were merely a means to crow in cockiness that he had such an effect on you. 

As these thoughts returned to your mind, you accompanied it by soaking in the image of Teddy’s fingers from across the room, rhythmically tapping along the side of his glass. You knew he was watching the way your eyes scanned him feverishly. Adding fuel to the heat that you felt rising within yourself, he clasped his fingers around his glass, lifting it up to take a sip, guiding your gaze to his lips once more.

As he took one faint sip, you watched as he removed the glass from his lips, giving you a clear view of his tongue teasing its way out of his parted lips to savour the taste of his drink. You found yourself mimicking his actions, your lips parting in a daze. You were so enchanted by every faint move of his, that you failed to notice that Ron’s arm hadn’t been around Teddy’s shoulder anymore, but waving beside you to get your attention.

Your breath hitched in your throat, ripping your attention away from Teddy to see the Kray twins standing beside your table. Ron stared down at you, the light glaring off his glasses, adding a complimentary intimidating tone to the gravelly way he greeted you. 

“Why don’t you crack a fuckin’ smile, eh? Wouldn’ fuckin’ ‘urt, now would it?”

A light chuckle escaped you, his tone barely hindering your composure. “Alright, Ron?” You greeted him sweetly. 

“Either flash a big smile, flash some quid at the roulette table, or fuck off.”

“Allow me to translate, love.” Reggie interjected, placing an affection pat on his brother’s shoulder, before stepping forward to lead the conversation. He helped himself to the seat next to you, turning to face you with a beguiling smile. “Forgive me brother, he’s been down on his luck lately. You on the other hand, seem to have a natural attraction with luck. Considered having a crack at the roulette table yet, Duchess?”

The roulette table was the centre of the casino, and you, the Duchess of Haggerston, were bound to be seen having a good time there. You planned on going there either way, but having that slight bit of attention paid to you by the debonair brothers themselves was the minute of entertainment you needed before you obliged with their wishes. You allowed yourself to show how charmed you were by Reggie, though your eyes shot back at Ron, amused by how he was staring you down. “I quite prefer Ronnie’s approach.”

“Good, cause I ain’t fannin’ up your dress and kissin’ your arse.” Ron’s eyes wandered, not caring to hide how disinterested he was with talking to you. “Speaking of kissin’ arse… where is that Barney Rubble?” He muttered to himself, turning his head round back at their table, snapping his fingers at an amused Teddy who was watching them from afar. “Oi, Teddy!” Ron nudged his head as an order for him to come over, a gesture that had Teddy on his feet in a heartbeat, making his way to your table and gussying himself up. 

“You see, ‘ere, dear Duchess, I’m not your fuckin’ babysitter. Got better things to do, so this…” Ron gave a firm slap on Teddy’s backside, cueing a child-like giggle from Teddy, “...is my gift to you.” 

“You like ‘im, don’t you?” Ron frowned slightly at your scoff of a response which was prompted upon seeing the pompous grin Teddy had plastered across his face. Waving his hand dismissively, Ron scoffed in return, “Nah, ‘course you do. Can’t blame you — look at ‘im, he’s like a vanilla wafer, you just wanna dip in your tea, doncha?” Teddy was beaming at the compliments Ron showered him in. 

“I don’t mind, be good to get ‘im off me ‘ands for a while anyway.” Ron gave one last squeeze on Teddy’s behind before stiffly walking off, past Reggie. “I’m gonna go find me a cupcake.”

Reggie patted his brother on the shoulder as he passed. “Yeah a’right, Ron, go find yourself a cupcake.” Reggie shook his head and chuckled under his breath, “Tosser. Can’t get ‘im to pay attention to one thing for more than a minute.” 

“Alright, then.” You piped up.

“Alright, what?” Reggie looked at you.

“I’ll give a crack at it, shall I? The roulette wheel.” 

Reggie smiled, holding out his hand for you. You took it and got up from your seat, hooking arms with him as he guided you to the heart of the casino, Teddy following not far behind.

“I think you’ll find you won’t be disappointed.” Reggie let go of you, smoothing his hand around your shoulder. “Listen, love, I’d love to stay and keep you happy, but I’ve got some business to take care of. You be ‘right if Teddy kept you company?”

You bit your lip slightly, avoiding eye contact with Teddy, who peered over Reggie’s shoulder. “I suppose.”

“There’s a doll.” Reggie winked at you, nudging your chin affectionately.

Before Reggie walked off, he made sure to pass on a few words to Teddy on his way. “Ay, Teddy, listen, ‘right? You stay ‘ere. If she ain’t tipping her head back with joy within the ‘our…”, was all you could manage to hear. You let yourself look at the two men. Teddy nodded along to the stream of instructions Reggie whispered in his ear, his smirk etching wider, his eyes dancing up and down at you.

“I’ve got it, Reg. Don’t worry.” Teddy nodded, his eyes trained on you. Reggie excused himself once more before disappearing.

You turned your head back to the roulette table, occupying yourself with watching the wheel spin. “Don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself there, Duchess.” Teddy’s voice piped up, as he stood beside you.

“‘fraid I’m not.” You responded dryly. 

“You could do us a favour and fake it, eh?”

“Never been quite good at fakin’ it.”

“What you doin’ in a bloody casino, then?”

Teddy scoffed when you didn’t counter a response. He turned, leaning his face near yours, beckoning you to look at him. “Come on, how ‘bout a smile for ol’ Teddy Bear, eh?”

“Fuck off.” You didn’t budge. 

“Don’t act all coy, now, babes.” He kept leaning in and arching his head in attempts to make you face him. He was determined to break through that stoicism with an agitating persistence. “What was you thinking about before, looking a’ me like that? Back at the table.” It was already working.

You paused for a moment before countering, “What does Reg want you to do with me?”

“I asked first.” Teddy responded abruptly. “Oh sod it. I suspect both our answers are the same.”

You finally looked his way, furrowing your brows in bewilderment. What you were thinking while looking at Teddy was obvious, so Teddy implying that Reggie had asked him to do something similar was something you couldn’t understand.

Teddy shifted himself closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours as he brought his hand to the small of your back. “To put it vaguely, I’ve been told to make a spectacle ou’ of you. I think I’ve something in mind that’’ll suit all our interests, including yours.” He drew out the last word into a whisper, his breath tickling at your ear.

You stiffened at his touch in an eagerness to veil how flustered you were. “Make a spectacle, how?” 

You could feel him smirking as his lips brushed at your ear. “Could spin my fingers round your cunt like a roulette wheel.”  Teddy’s hand inched lower, smoothing around the curve of your backside, giving it a firm squeeze. You sucked in a breath as his hands dropped lower, fingertips dangling across the back of your thigh and curling around the bottom of your dress. He turned his head in a way that guided you to face the roulette wheel. You felt as Teddy began circling his fingers at the back of your thigh in perfect unison to the spinning of the roulette wheel your eyes were fixated on. 

You bit your lip trying to steady your breaths. You ripped your eyes from the wheel, the sight of its speed accompanying the growing speed of Teddy’s circling becoming unbearable. You subtly looked around behind you, surprised to see that Teddy’s overt groping hadn’t caught anyone’s attention.

“You’ve done most of the work for me, so thanks for that.” His voice beckoned you to face him, and you finally did.

You frowned at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“No need for me to warm you up. Seems like you’ve been doing that for yourself ever since you set those pretty little eyes on my fingers.” You knew exactly what he meant, though you preferred to feign oblivion, staring at him blankly. Half in a desire to continue the nonchalant act, the other half in a desire for him to seek proof. It didn’t take long until his fingers began rising up your legs from behind you, inching up your inner thigh, delicately gracing over your panties. His tongue spilled slightly from his mouth as he looked at you, coating his bottom lip in a sheen of wetness mirroring the dampness he felt through your panties. “This for me, innit?”

Your shuddering breath, coupled with you closing your eyes in bliss, was a sufficient enough response. Teddy stepped behind you, allowing more access to you while also shielding his action from that much view from others. He began stroking you through your panties, and you couldn’t help but tip your head back against his shoulder as you tried to stifle a moan.

Teddy began smoothing his other hand around your waist to your front, curling his fingers to bunch up your dress. “Let’s show everyone that dripping cunt, shall we?”

You lifted your head, grabbing Teddy’s wrists and prying his grip off you. You didn’t allow yourself a second to reconsider, as you walked up to the roulette table, helping yourself to a seat. The dealer asked if you’d be joining for this round and you nodded eagerly, trying to compose yourself and recover from Teddy’s touch.

Teddy chuckled as he took the seat beside you, turning his whole body to face you. “Hm… ‘spose I’ve gotta find another way to make a show outta you...”

As you placed your bet and waited patiently, Teddy’s hand rested on your thigh. You didn’t make an effort to remove it. It was under the tablecloth away from everyone’s view. Teddy beamed upon seeing that you didn’t even pretend to object to his advances this time. “See, now was that so ‘ard?” He chuckled. “This time, Duchess, no need to bite back them moans. Let everyone hear what a dirty littl—”

“I wasn’t moaning.” Your responses were becoming weaker and less effective after every advance he made, your tone withering in its assertiveness. 

“Oh I beg to differ. Plus, you said yourself you wasn’t that good at fakin’ it, innit?” Teddy chuckled as nothing but silence came from you, your mind too occupied trying to formulate a response while attempting to ignore Teddy’s fingers that were inching closer. Swiftly prying his way under your panties, the heat of your clit was washed by the cold of his fingertips. You breathed in a sharp gasp, gripping onto the edge of the table, trying to quiet the moan that shuddered its way out of you. Luckily, those around the roulette table and those passing, misconstrued your moans as an exclamation of anticipation as the roulette wheel spun. 

“This is in the best interest of us all.” Teddy’s voice dropped lower, and his mischievous smirk was replaced with a stormy eagerness in his eyes. His fingers were moving at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“How exactly is this in the Krays’ best interest?” You were surprised you were composed enough to speak again.

Teddy circled your clit, resting his chin on the palm of his other hand as his elbow propped up on the table. That cocky grin returned. “You can pawn off those pathetic moans as excitement for the game.”

“That’s…” 

“Clever, eh?” He let out a light giggle.

You wanted to frown, but your mouth hung open at the feel of his fingers working at your core. “Allow me to offer an example.” Teddy began delving his fingers inside you, your arousal that pooled a while ago allowed seamless access, as he abruptly curled his fingers harshly without warning. You yelped loudly, coincidentally in unison to the cheers coming from the aristocrats surrounding the roulette table, who watched as the dolly was placed on their winning numbers. Teddy spat out an obnoxious chuckle amused at the timing. “Ha! That was too good!”

You scowled at him. “You’re a little shit.”

Teddy quirked an eyebrow at you. “Sorry, what was that, darling?”

“I said— ah!” You moaned loudly, as Teddy picked up his pace, massaging deep inside your walls thoroughly. No doubt, the attention of everyone round the table was caught, so you disguised the moan as a triumphant cheer, smiling through it. The dealer made a humorous comment on your cheer of victory as he swept away the losing bets and made payouts to the winners including you.

The dealer asked if you were up to make new bets, though too distracted by Teddy who had kept his pace steady, you hummed. 

“Is that a yes, miss?” The dealer frowned at you confused.

“Y-Yes…” You found yourself gasping as Teddy picked up his speed. “God, yes!”

Everyone chuckled at your enthusiasm, interpreting it as anticipation towards a winning streak. To your mercy, Teddy stopped. Though to your disappointment, he drew his fingers back from you, adjusting your panties back on and removing his hand from you. You hated the whine that escaped you from the absence of his touch. 

You steadied your breaths. You didn’t have time to process what had happened, as everyone was waiting for you to place your bet. Doing so in a hurry, you had knocked some of your own table chips off the table. You cursed under your breath, urging yourself to calm down. Before you could reach down to grab the table chips, Teddy stopped you.

“Allow me.” Teddy smirked and waggled his eyebrows at you.

Your eyes widened, but before you could object, Teddy was already diving underneath tablecloth under the guise of collecting the chips. Somehow without arousing any attention from anyone else, he didn’t return back out from under there.

The roulette wheel was spinning again, and you bit your lip at what was to follow. Keeping your eyes trained on the wheel, you felt Teddy’s fingers begin smoothing up your legs again. He gripped each one hard, lifting them over each of his shoulders. In a swift motion, he grabbed the legs of your chair, pulling you in hastily towards him, your stomach pressed against the edge of the table. Your body jerked forward, your core meeting with his mouth forcefully. Your fingers were gripping hard onto your table chips, the feel of Teddy’s tongue through your panties driving you insane. 

It was as if Teddy read your mind when his fingers dug underneath the elastic of your panties, pulling harshly until they tore off, the cold air of the casino greeting your bare center. Teddy’s tongue ran the length of you, his voice humming, a rush of vibration running through you. A few thorough sucks of your clit made you bang your fist against the table. “Fuck!”, you exclaimed. As luck would have it, you were losing your bet in the game and your exclamation was interpreted as one of disappointment. 

Your body stiffened. You had to be more cautious. Those first few times were just luck, your next rush of pleasure may not coincide with a moment to cheer or exclaim in frustration about, in the game. Teddy could sense this hesitance from under the table and gave a harsh playful bite at your inner thigh.

You bit your lip to stifle a gasp, and instead clenched your thighs around his head and squeezed as a means to chide him. Though he groaned in slight pain, it only cued another vibration from his voice to surge through you. Feeling a dose of impulsiveness, you wrapped your legs tighter around his neck pulling him back to your core.

Taken aback, Teddy nuzzled against your clit again. You could feel a smirk begin to etch across his face again and you raised an eyebrow curious what was to follow. Teddy delved his tongue deep inside you, turning his head in a way that buried his nose against your clit while his tongue made work against your walls. Your breaths became out of sync with his, as you began bucking your hips around for deeper contact. Your movements were thankfully disguised as a bouncing of impatience by the surrounding people.  

You tipped your head back in pleasure, though as you looked up, you saw Reggie. He took one look at you and fluttered his eyes down, grinning to himself. Teddy must’ve done exactly as he was instructed. You furrowed your brows at Reggie, who greeted your stare with a mockingly innocent raise of his eyebrows, before moving along and disappearing into the crowd. You chided yourself for thinking you had the Krays wrapped around your finger. You had your fun thinking they were worrying over your enjoyment at the casino, all the while they were certain that they could ensure you were having a great time, and profiting off your endorsement while making a fool out of you.

The roulette wheel took its last spin, when you found yourself on the brink of release. Teddy was merciless, not allowing your growing sensitivity to hinder his speed. “Oh… oh… oh…” Your gasps and moans grew louder, coinciding with the slowing speed of the wheel as everyone looked to see where the ball would land.

A loud wave of cheers from everyone took over, as you let out a long moan, Teddy removing his face just in time for your release to drip down your legs. Your breaths grew heavy and quick, your core sore and your head weak from a violent rush of pleasure. You didn’t care that you had won yet another bet. All you wanted was Teddy to lick you clean of the mess he caused between your thighs, before you’d pull him back up from under the table forcing him in a heated kiss. Despite your hunger for him being satiated, you still wanted more. And you hated it. He made a spectacle out of you, and not only did you oblige, but you couldn’t get enough of it.

Before you could allow Teddy to coax anything more from you, you got up from the table, retreating quickly. Paying no mind to the cold rush between your legs, your release dripping down you, you briskly made your way to the stairs leading out the casino. You picked up your pace upon hearing a set of footsteps catching up behind you, but you were too late.

“Not so fast, love.” You gasped as a pair of arms reached around you aggressively. Teddy pulled you flush against him, his teeth grazing against your ear as he whispered, “I’m not finished with you.”

You turned your head slightly to face him, almost moaning at the sight of your juices lingering on his lips. “I’m to make spectacle outta you, ‘member?”

Still weak and disoriented, you muttered. “Reggie seemed pleased with you. Your job is done.”

“Oh, I’ve done that first part for the Krays, sure. This is for me.” He grinned. 

You greeted this with a confused frown. “You’ve no interest in me. I was just a job for you and when I’m not that, I’m just something you love goading to arouse your damn ego.”

“You’re exactly right, darling.” That stupid hope you felt that he would argue against the notion of you meaning nothing to him, was shot down in a heartbeat. His apathetic, blunt tone nearly sparking a rise out of you. “Nothing gets my cock harder than being revered. Being in dear Ronnie’s shadow all the time, I don’t get revered often, y’see...” Teddy grinned against the back of your neck, his breath steaming your tender spot. It took everything in your strength to refrain from shivering at the sensation. 

“Now, you… You are no stranger to it…” Teddy’s hands ran its way up your body, feeling up your curves before pulling you even closer against him, his fingers grasping around your breasts. “If people saw me parading the Duchess of Haggerston around the casino... her letting out those pitiful moans ‘cause of me, cum dripping out her cunt and down her legs ‘cause of me… the stares I’d get… I could wank to that prestige for a whole bloody year.”

You pulled Teddy’s arms off you, turning around to face him and shooting him a brutal glare. Your eyes flickered down, spotting your panties blatantly hanging out the breast pocket of his blazer. He followed your eyes, grinning smugly at the panties, as if it was a medal of honour he wanted to flash proudly. “You’re psychotic, Teddy.”

“Do you object, Duchess?” He flashed a smile. You hated how confident he was, how sure he was that he had you wrapped around his finger. 

You felt a heat rising within you. Whether it was in a rage at Teddy’s intentions to humiliate you to arouse his ego, or in a reluctance to acknowledge the desire for him that still remained, it grew unbearable. You could feel everyone’s eyes on both of you. Your eyes glanced down at Teddy’s lips, and he lifted his head daring you to proceed with what you’ve been pining for since the moment you set eyes on him. 

With everyone looking, it would earn him the kind of attention that could supposedly make his cock hard, but for you, it was a mere case of quenching the mad desire to taste as much of him as you could. You knew by kissing him, he’d of won, and you would’ve surrendered your dignity all for a mobster’s boy toy.

“Fuck it.” You hissed sharply before tugging Teddy’s tie, forcing his lips against yours. You kissed him feverishly, desperate to savour the taste of him and the taste of yourself that still remained on his lips, paying no mind to the stares that burned your way. 

After all those times you would bear witness to ‘Mad’ Teddy Smith being nothing more than Ronald Kray’s toy, it seemed it was time Teddy was granted a toy of his own. 

[follow-your-fire]

In your tender hands

Rating: Explicit/NC-17

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur (Merlin)

Written for bottom Arthur fest 2020

@bottom-arthur

“You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

Freya gives him an incredulous look. “You’re an idiot. Have you never had a massage before?” she asks, and it’s obvious that the question is mostly rhetorical. Which is probably the main reason why her eyes grow twice their size at the lack of response. “Oh my God, Arthur! Seriously?!”

“You did what?” Arthur nearly spits out his coffee, glaring daggers at his assistant.

Freya only rolls her eyes at the dramatic response. “You heard me. I booked you in for one hour when you take your break.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” He rubs at his eyes in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to squeeze a massage in? My break is one hour too, plus the commute, plus I want to have lunch.”

“You’re acting like I don’t know your schedule off the top of my head. How long have I been working for you?”

“Two years,” he replies automatically, taking a moment to appreciate the fact.

All in all, Freya is a wonderful assistant. Arthur knows she’s the only reason why he hasn’t had a mental breakdown yet. She’s punctual and diligent. Stubborn as hell and as ruthless as they come. It’s kind of a double-edged sword though. While she gets the job done - actually goes beyond her line of duty - she also takes great pleasure in bossing Arthur around. And of course, Arthur being the push-over he is, lets her get away with it.

So yeah, Freya is a godsent who saves Arthur from losing it on a daily basis. But she’s also the spawn of the Devil who loves to discover all the ways to drive him nuts.

“And four months,” she corrects. “So cut me some slack, Princess.”

Ignoring the jab - because really, Freya, it’s getting old - he comes back to his previous point of concern. “Then you should know that my schedule is fully packed today.”

“Not anymore,” she announces smugly, walking over to her desk to pick up the iPad before she returns to Arthur’s office. “I moved Masa to tomorrow at 11:15 and Cutforth to Friday at 2 pm, which gives you,” she does a quick count, “two hours and fifteen minutes for your break.” She closes the iPad, smiling victoriously. “Now, stop fretting and make sure you leave on time. I booked you for 12.:15. The commute is about fifteen minutes and you should be there at least five minutes in advance.” She grabs a pen and a post-it-note from his desk, scribbling quickly. “There,” she says, tearing the note off. “This is the address.”

“The enchanted cave,” he reads in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Shut up, Arthur. Merlin is the best there is. He put me back together after I lost my parents. He’s usually fully booked weeks in advance. You’re lucky that he has a soft spot for me and let me squeeze you in.”

Arthur turns more solemn at the mention of Freya’s parent’s untimely passing. It doesn’t make him any less confused, though.

“Sounds more like a shrink to me than a masseur,” he thinks out loud.

“He might as well be,” she laughs, affection evident in her voice, which softens Arthur’s irritation somewhat. “You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

Freya gives him an incredulous look. “You’re an idiot. Have you never had a massage before?” she asks, and it’s obvious that the question is mostly rhetorical. Which is probably the main reason why her eyes grow twice their size at the lack of response. “Oh my God, Arthur! Seriously?!”

“I don’t have time for self-pampering,” he grumbles defensively.

“That’s exactly why you have to make the time!”

“That’s quite an oxymoron.”

“Shush.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Really, Arthur. You need to unwind.”

“I don’t-”

“Arthur,” she groans impatiently. “Go. Get. The. Massage. I’m gonna make sure you leave on time and I will check with Merlin that you actually turned up.”

“I think you’re confusing who’s the boss and who’s the subordinate here.”

“I think you’re full of shit and need to shut up and listen to someone smarter than you.” She turns on her heel and walks out of the office before Arthur has a chance to retort anything back. “Don’t be a prat, Arthur. For once in your life, do something nice for yourself.” And with that, she shuts the door behind her.

Arthur arrives at the place at 12:07, just in time to walk to the door as a woman walks out. He steps to the side, waiting for her to pass.

“Arthur?”

He snaps his head up from where he was blankly staring at the side-walk. “Oh. Hey, Mithian,” he greets when he recognizes one of his long-time friends.

“Don’t hey me and give me a proper hug hello,” she complains and doesn’t waste any time to rise on her tiptoes and wrap him in her arms. Arthur returns the hug with a smile on his face.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been great but how have you been? I haven’t heard from you in ages,” she scolds him gently.

“Been busy.”

“Aren’t you always,” she scoffs, sympathetic. “Nice to see you’re finally doing something for yourself,” she says, getting a confused look. “You’re coming for a massage, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I am. My assistant made me.” Oh, shit. That shouldn’t have come out.

Predictably, Mithian bursts into giggles. “Figures.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, Arthur. Someone needs to look out for you if you don’t,” she explains, her eyes soft and a wave of affection washes over Arthur as he remembers his uni years and their brief but lovely time together as a couple.

Now that he thinks of it, Freya reminds him of Mithian a lot. It occurs to him he’s attracted to a certain type of person. Not necessarily in a romantic sense but more in general.

His sister is like that too. All fiery and strong-willed, calling Arthur names on a good day, but when it comes to it, she’s a protective mother-hen.

So is his best friend. Lance is usually calm and collected but doesn’t hesitate to call Arthur on his bullshit, in the most loving way, though. So does Gwen. Those two really rub off on each other.

What is it with him attracting people into his life who spend most of their time scolding or mothering him? He needs to look into it later.

“I still don’t see how this is supposed to help.” He shrugs indifferently.

“Oh, you’ll see. Just wait for it.” And good grief, she winks at him. “I need to get going. Let me know how it went. You have my number, right?” Arthur nods. “Great. Also, it wouldn’t kill you to get in touch here and there, you know?”

Sighing guiltily, he humors her. “I will.”

“You’d better. Okay, gotta go. Enjoy yourself!” She blows him a kiss and takes off.

He very much doubts he’s gonna enjoy himself but if he’s lucky, maybe he’ll get to nap while the guy gets handsy with him. He could use an extra hour of sleep. God knows the five hours he’s come to consider his routine are not cutting it anymore.

He sighs in relief as he walks through the door to find a rather unassuming lobby. Given the name of the business, he expected the place to live up to its cringeiness but thankfully there are no tacky lights, no magical crystals scattered around, no candles in every corner, nor every surface. The only thing that can be considered a bit spiritual or whatever is the incense perched on the counter, right next to the business cards and leaflets. Thankfully, the scent is very subtle and doesn’t trigger a headache.

“Good afternoon! You must be Arthur,” says a voice to his left and Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin. He didn’t even notice anyone in the room with him.

As he looks over in the direction the voice came from, he finds a man, presumably his masseur - Mark, Matt? - standing in the door leading to what Arthur guesses is the massage room.

“Oh. Hey. Yeah, that would be me.” He turns to face the man, straightening his back. He must look out of place, clad in his suit, still wearing his tie.

The man approaches him with a smile. “I’m Merlin. It’s nice to meet you, finally. Freya talks about you quite a bit.”

Arthur reaches to grasp his hand when Merlin offers it, giving it a firm shake. “Don’t believe anything the little minx lets out of her mouth.” He attempts a joke, hoping his discomfort at being told his assistant talks about him is not too obvious.

He must succeed because Merlin is throwing his head back with a laugh. “She said you would say that,” he teases. “That’s alright. I like to make up my own mind.”

Arthur withdraws his hand and gives him a stiff smile. Outside of work, he has no idea how to make a decent conversation. Not upon the first meeting anyway.

Tilting his head inquiringly, Merlin asks, “You seem quite tense. Is everything alright?”

“It’s just... Look. I know you’re busy, Freya said so. And I appreciate you making time for me. But,” he huffs, knowing he’s gonna sound like a jerk no matter how he phrases it, “I don’t really care for massage much but Freya insisted. She can be fucking scary sometimes. Don’t tell her that though! And I just... I feel really out of place, okay?”

He expects to see Merlin’s expression sour, thinking Arthur is just a pompous douche. He wouldn’t even blame him. But, to his bewilderment, the man’s face is nothing but open, not a single trace of judgement.

“I won’t, I promise,” he says with humor. “If you don’t mind me asking - have you had a bad experience in the past?”

“More like no experience at all.”

For the first time, Merlin looks caught off guard. “You never had a massage?”

“No. I just never saw the point. And anyway, I don’t really have time to spare. The only reason I’m here is that Freya did some magic with my schedule and cleared it up enough to give me two hours off today.”

“Oh.” Merlin suddenly perks up. “In that case, I’d like to show you some of my magic, if you let me.”

Arthur’s brain short-circuits for a moment. Did he just hear what he thinks he did? Or is he so tired he started hallucinating? Plus, his dry spell of six months is probably not helping either.

“Um... I... magic?”

“Yeah, you know...” Merlin sweeps his hand over the lobby. “The enchanted cave? Seems fitting?”

“Oh.” Arthur chokes out. “Right. Right...”

“Oh God, I just realized how cheesy that sounds,” Merlin reflects with a hint of embarrassment. “Anyway, I should stop talking. You didn’t come here for a chat, after all.” He steps to the side, gesturing towards the massage room. “I’d just finished setting it up before you came in, so it’s all ready for you.”

Arthur gets the hint and with a deep breath, he makes his way to the room. Unlike the lobby, it’s bathed in a soft yellow light and.... yup, those are candles alright. No crystals, though.

Merlin is right on his heels. “I’ll let you undress in private, to your level of comfort.You can hang your clothes here, or you can just fold them and put them on this chair.” He gestures to the chair in the corner. “After that, lie down on the massage table, on your stomach, this way around. You see the sheet over there? That’s for you to cover yourself with. I’ll be back in a few minutes when you’re ready. Do you have any questions? Requests?”

So many questions. He goes with the most concerning one. “Yeah, um, when you say my level of comfort...” He cuts himself off. Thankfully, Merlin picks up on it.

“Whatever works for you, really. I can even massage you with your clothes on, although...” He gives Arthur a quick once-over, “I can’t imagine it would be comfortable for you.”

Yeah, no. Definitely not. And he has to go back to work after and he’s sure that showing up in a wrinkled suit would earn him a few judgmental looks.

“But really, it’s up to you. You can keep your clothes on, or just your underwear. If you’d prefer to be completely naked, that works too.”

Arthur hopes the dim lighting of the room conceals his blush. There’s no reason why a man of 32 years should blush at the thought of being naked.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Merlin echoes with an encouraging smile. “Be back soon.”

Arthur releases a relieved breath when Merlin closes the door behind him. This whole thing is even more awkward than he expected. Merlin seems like an alright bloke, if a bit odd but Arthur supposes that comes with the job. He seems nice though, with all the reassurances and effort he put into making sure Arthur is comfortable.

He wonders how many male clients Merlin gets. So far, he knows that Freya and Mithian are swept away by him. Although it’s hard to tell if it’s because of his supposedly outstanding massage skills or his looks.

He groans internally and maybe even a bit out loud. Nope, don’t even go there. No hitting on your masseur. Yeah, that wouldn’t end well. Not with Merlin about to spend the next hour gliding his large hands over Arthur’s whole body.

A shiver runs down his spine and in an attempt to push his thoughts away, he begins undressing, starting with his tie. He hangs his jacket and shirt on the hanger by the door and the rest he puts on the chair, just as Merlin instructed. In no time, he’s standing there clad only in his underwear, debating whether to leave that on or not.

To hell with it. Merlin must have seen it all already.

He ends up ridding himself of his briefs too, face going aflame as he adds them to the pile on the chair and rushes to climb onto the table, settling on his stomach and doing his best to arrange the sheet Merlin provided for him so it covers him as much as possible.

A minute or two pass with him fidgeting in his position. Whether it’s from discomfort or nerves, he doesn’t know, but then Merlin is knocking gently on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah,” he calls hoarsely, grateful Merlin can’t see his face.

The door clicks open and Merlin walks into the room, speaking from somewhere to Arthur’s left. “You probably already figured but one hour allows for a full body massage. Is that alright with you? Or do you want me to forgo any areas? Or spend some more time on a specific one?”

Logically, Arthur knows these are all valid questions but they do nothing to help him relax. More like the opposite.

“Um, no, that’s... you can do whatever you want.”

“Alright. Any contraindications I should know about?”

“I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking.” Oh God, what did I just say? Stop trying to be funny, Arthur!

It draws a boisterous laugh from Merlin, easing some of Arthur’s tension. “Thanks for clarifying,” he says, catching his breath. “Any injuries?”

“No. I twisted my ankle playing football, but that was years ago.”

“Okay, good.” There is some rustling and thumping, then Merlin speaks again. “Do you care for any specific scent? I’ve got a variety of essential oils, energizing or calming. I have a special blend for stress relief if you’d be interested.”

Arthur winces a little at the fact he’s so easy to read. “Um... sure. But maybe not too much? I still need to go back to work after this.”

“Duly noted,” Merlin promises and busies himself with what Arthur assumes is mixing the oils or something.

Thankfully, he doesn’t take long, preventing Arthur from driving himself into a frenzy. He doesn’t know why he’s so flustered about all of this. So he never had a massage, so what? People do it all the time.

It’s just then that he notices that music is playing but it’s so soft it could almost escape his hearing. He focuses on listening in hopes of distracting himself.

“Okay, I’m all set. I’ll start with dry massage, working my way down from your shoulders. That alright with you?”

Yeah, he never had a massage but he’s pretty sure that asking for affirmation every two minutes isn’t how this usually works. It occurs to him that Merlin is doing this only for him.

He’s equal parts irritated and touched by it.

“Yeah.”

Gently, Merlin places his hands on his shoulders over the sheet. It’s just a simple touch, not even on his bare skin, but Arthur swears he can feel the heat of Merlin’s hands seeping into his own body and spreading throughout. He suppresses a sigh.

“I’ll start with medium pressure. Let me know if it’s too much or if you’d like me to go harder.”

Arthur hopes the whimper that makes it past his lips is not very audible. He clears his throat to cover it up.

Merlin doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses his hands into the tense muscles of Arthur’s upper back, finding all the right spots from the get go.

A guttural groan escapes Arthur before he knows it.

“Too much?” Merlin asks, stilling his movement.

“N-no. No, it’s... it’s good. Just didn’t... expect it.”

“Good. Let me know if it changes.”

He stays on that area for a few minutes, lingering when he finds a sensitive spot, working out the kink. It’s a curious combination of pain-pleasure and Arthur is not sure if that’s what it’s supposed to feel like, but he knows it leaves him all pliant and floaty, so it’s probably alright.

Merlin makes his way down the spine, to his lower back, then goes back up and pays the same attention to his arms and hands.

He walks around the table and starts working on the legs.

Arthur releases a shuddering breath. He just had a leg-day in the gym yesterday and damn, can he feel it. Merlin’s touch is like a balm on his sore muscles and he exhales as pain gives way to relief.

It’s not long before Merlin comes back to the head of the table, hands grasping at the sheet.

“I’ll move onto the oil part now, yeah?”

“Okay.” At this point, Arthur will take anything. Why has he never done this before?

Merlin pulls the sheet down to his lower back, folding it over and leaving his back and arms exposed. The air of the room is not chilly by any means but Arthur shudders all the same.

There is a slick sound as Merlin covers his hands with oil before bringing them to Arthur’s shoulders again, spreading the oil over the whole expanse of his back and arms. Although the pressure is not as hard now, with the oil easing the way, Arthur finds this part even more intense, Merlin’s touch nearly searing without any barrier between them.

He glides his palms, fingers and forearms over Arthur’s back with long, confident strokes, then switches to short, firmer ones, alternating between the two.

Arthur’s vaguely aware he’s all but melting on the spot, feeling almost detached from his body despite every nerve ending being on fire.

At some point as Merlin rubs at the tense muscles of his neck, he slides his hands into Arthur’s hair, at the base of his skull, rubbing in circular motions.

This time, it’s definitely a whimper that Arthur lets out, blushing furiously.

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Arthur,” Merlin instructs in a gentle voice. “You carry a lot of tension here. Plenty of people do but you even more so. Just let go.”

Against his better judgment, he does just that. As Merlin’s hands continue their ministrations, he lets out a series of little huffs and whimpers, unable to stop himself when he starts.

“That’s it. Just let go,” Merlin repeats and puts more force behind his touch, making Arthur’s noises grow in volume.

He both welcomes and mourns the loss when Merlin’s hands leave him in order to grab a hot towel and wipe the remaining layer of oil from his back before covering him with the sheet again.

“I’ll move to your legs now, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

He’s surprised when Merlin touches his shoulder, prompting him to lift his head. “Since I’m finished with your back, you can have a pillow if you want. It might be more comfortable for you.”

Arthur doesn’t object in the slightest, taking the pillow Merlin’s holding and resting his right cheek on it, sliding his hands underneath. Yeah, much more comfortable.

“Thanks,” he mumbles almost sleepily and hears Merlin chuckle.

“You’re very welcome.”

Then, Merlin is exposing his left leg, tucking the sheet in the space between his legs and over his hip, revealing his left butt-cheek in the process. He doesn’t even have the strength to feel embarrassed.

Merlin doesn’t waste time before coating his hands with oil again and bringing them to Arthur’s leg. He starts with his feet, then moves to his calf, then thigh until he’s worked all the way to his bum.

Arthur nearly jack-knives from the table as Merlin’s thumb presses into the middle of his cheek.

“Sorry! Was it too much?”

Arthur presses his face into the pillow to hide his flush. “I... ugh... I just... didn’t expect... that.”

“Oh,” Merlin quips. “I can skip that part.”

Jesus, Arthur, stop being such a sissy. It’s just a massage. A professional massage.

“It’s fine. You just... surprised me.”

“Sorry about that,” he says genuinely and resumes the massage, albeit more tentative than before.

Now that the initial shock is over, Arthur begins to appreciate the attention Merlin’s paying to that particular part of his body. He never knew how tense he was in... well.... there.

He whines a little when Merlin presses his thumb into a tender spot.

“Shit. I would’ve thought that going to the gym four times a week would make up for sitting on my ass several hours every day,” he grumbles more to himself.

“I think you’re doing an excellent job at the gym,” Merlin replies with humor, then promptly freezes, Arthur following suit. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. That was... very inappropriate. I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it. Not that you don’t have a nice ass. I mean... oh shit,” he starts panicking, removing his hands from Arthur’s body. Funny enough, witnessing Merlin freak out makes Arthur strangely relaxed.

He responds with a huff. “Take it easy, Merlin. I appreciate the compliment. You can continue.”

“Are you... are you sure?” Merlin asks tentatively.

“I’m sure. You like my ass, so what? I’ve been working hard on it.”

Merlin laughs, a bit nervous, a bit relieved, and eventually listens, resuming the massage on the other leg, starting from his foot again.

Maybe the whole exchange should make everything weird but strangely enough, Arthur is even more relaxed than he was before. The realization that Merlin is only human, with no filter it seems, making it easier.

Merlin hesitates when he works his way up to Arthur’s bum again, but with no complaint in sight, he repeats what he did on the other leg.

When he’s done, he steps to the side of the table and lifts the sheet off of Arthur, holding it in front of himself like a screen. “Can you turn over, Arthur?”

Arthur gathers all his strength to prop on his forearms with the intention to do just that, but stills momentarily.

“Arthur?” Merlin questions when nothing happens.

“I... um....” Well, shit. How did I not notice I was sporting a semi?!

“What’s wrong?”

“I... might have a... situation,” he admits, face burning.

At first, Merlin is silent, then the realization dawns on him. “Oh. I see. That’s fine, Arthur. It happens more often than not,” he reassures but it doesn’t help much.

“But I... God, this is embarrassing,” he hides his face in his hands.

“I understand why you would think that, but I promise it’s alright. It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just a natural reaction.”

It takes some more prompting but eventually, Arthur flips onto his back and closes his eyes as Merlin drapes the sheet over him again, the outline of his half-hard dick painfully visible.

“I can fetch you a blanket if it makes you feel better?”

“If you don’t mind,” he squeezes out without opening his eyes, only doing so when Merlin hands him the blanket and he rushes to throw it over his lower half. “Thanks. Sorry about that.”

He dares a look at Merlin and finds him smiling in empathy. “Not at all. It’s no big deal, Arthur.” He reaches for a bottle of oil and puts his hands on Arthur’s arm. “Just lie back and relax.”

Arthur does his best to do just that while Merlin massages his arm and hand before switching to the other one.

By the time he’s finished with them, Arthur’s calmed down considerably and, thank fuck for that, the embarrassment was enough to have killed any interest his dick might have taken in the situation.

He expects Merlin to announce the massage has come to an end when he finishes wiping his arms with a hot towel, but to his surprise, Merlin slides a chair behind him, sitting himself down, hands coming to cradle Arthur’s head. Arthur lifts it automatically, assuming that’s what Merlin wants him to do.

“You just relax, Arthur. Don’t help me by holding your head up. I’ll manage.”

It’s not an easy thing to trust someone not to drop your head but Merlin is nothing but cautious as he maneuvers it around to get to the spot he’s aiming for and Arthur finds himself giving up control completely. Head massage doesn’t sound like anything special but to his bewilderment, it’s the most relaxing thing ever. At some point, he even starts dozing off. At least he thinks he does because he nearly jumps out of his skin when Merlin says his name.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?” he snaps his eyes open, looking up at Merlin upside down, seeing the other man smiling fondly.

“Did you fall asleep?”

“N-no?” he stutters, cheeks growing pink.

“Of course,” Merlin says in the way that screams he doesn’t believe him but humors him anyway. “Well, I’m all done here. How are you feeling?”

“Weirdly disconnected from my body,” he says with a grunt, attempting to sit up. “Shit, I don’t know how I’ll get any work done for the rest of the day.”

“What time do you finish?”

“Officially? Around five. Actually? Seven. Sometimes eight.”

“God, that’s disgusting.”

“You have no idea.”

“Thankfully, I don’t,” he agrees. “I’ll let you get dressed. Meet me in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s with sloth speed that Arthur puts his clothes on. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of Merlin’s busy schedule and can only hope he’s not stalling.

He squints at the bright light of the lobby when he emerges from the massage room. When his eyes adjust, he spots Merlin walking towards him with a glass of water. “Here, have some water.”

“Thanks,” he accepts without objection, just because he’s barely standing. He doesn’t know what Merlin’s done to him but it feels like his body doesn’t even belong to him. He has no idea how he’s gonna drive back to work without driving himself into a street-lamp.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks when he’s chugged down the whole glass, reaching for his wallet.

“Oh. It’s already paid for. Freya used your credit card when she booked you in.”

Arthur blinks at him blankly. How dare Freya pay for something that Arthur hadn’t even agreed to yet?!

Yeah, as if she would ever take a no for an answer.

He sighs, pulling out a twenty pound bill regardless. “She would, wouldn’t she. That little shit,” he grumbles under his breath. “At least let me tip you,” he holds a hand with the bill to Merlin.

“Actually, she included the tip, too,” he says sheepishly, giving Arthur a crooked smile.

“Bloody hell,” he huffs indignantly, then takes a deep breath. “Whatever. Just take it.”

“But-”

“Merlin. Take. It. You’ve done a great job,” he insists, holding eye contact.

Merlin still hesitates at first but resigns eventually. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Okay. Thank you, Arthur,” he smiles appreciatively as he accepts the money. He bites his lip, seemingly in thought, then turns around and plucks one business card from the pile on the desk, grabs a pen and writes something down. “Here,” he turns to Arthur, holding the card to him. “If you ever feel like coming back for another massage.”

Arthur takes the card, noticing that Merlin wrote another number on in besides the one already printed. “Thanks but... I’m sure Freya has the number.”

“This is my personal number,” Merlin explains and Arthur’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I’m not always able to pick up the phone here but if you text me on my personal number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, that’s very... um... I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Merlin mumbles, fidgety. Arthur finds it both amusing and confusing.

“Well, I should get going. Thank you again.”

“Oh! Of course, don’t let me keep you,” he rushes to say. “See you next time?”

“Yeah.” As non-committal as he sounds, he finds he means it. Something’s telling him he’ll be back sooner or later. Probably sooner.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur,” Merlin calls as Arthur opens the door on his way out and his heart skips a beat at the genuine tone.

He turns around to give the man one last smile before the door shuts behind him.

“So? How was it?” Freya advances on him as soon as he comes back. He slumps into his chair, sitting upright when Freya places a box of takeout in front of him.

“Fine.” Freya is not impressed. “It was good, okay?” he adds, opening the box to reveal his all-time favorite pad thai and all but inhales the food.

“Told you,” she says smugly, ignoring Arthur’s glare. “Gonna go again?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s convincing.”

“Shut it, Freya,” he shoots back. “I got his business card. I’ll give him a call when I feel like it.”

“I can do that for you.”

“Nope, thanks. I’m sure I can manage to make a phone-call myself, even without an intervention of my obnoxious assistant.”

Freya throws a balled-up napkin at him. “Ungrateful prat,” she retorts and stomps out of his office.

“I heard that!”

Arthur lasts exactly four days and two hours before giving in and taking Merlin up on his offer to text him on his personal number to book another appointment. He didn’t expect to snap so quickly but after waking up the next day after his massage, refreshed and chirpy, feeling as though he had a brand new body - who could blame him, really.

Hey, Merlin. It’s Arthur. I was wondering if you had a slot available this week?

There, simple and straight to the point. Freya said that Merlin is usually booked out weeks in advance but asking never hurt anybody.

His phone chimes with an incoming message about ten minutes later.

Hi, Arthur! Nice to hear from you again. :)

Sure thing. Did you have a specific day and time in mind?

Nope, he didn’t. He was willing to adjust his schedule just to squeeze in an hour.

Not really. Freya implied that you’re usually fully booked so I thought I’d leave that up to you.

She’s over-exaggerating ;) I can make time.

Oh, God, he’s one of those people. Emojis and shit.

Oh. Okay, then. Thursday work for you?

It does :) What time?

This is... unexpectedly easy. He should have never let Freya bullshit him. But that’s what she does. She’d do anything to get her way and make Arthur do whatever she wants. No Christmas bonus for her this year!

Is 6pm too late?

As a matter of fact, he never finishes before six. Hell, he never finishes before seven. But maybe his friends are right. Maybe he should make time for himself once in a while. It won’t kill him, will it?

Thought you didn’t finish work until ungodly hour :D

He’s already typing out a reply but Merlin beats him to it with another message.

And it’s not too late. I’ll write you down for 6, then ;)

Oh. That easy, huh?

Thank you, he sends first, then rushes to add an explanation. I can make an exception once in a while. He hesitates with the next part but decides to throw caution to the wind, just this time. It’s worth it.

He regrets it as soon as he hits send, but doesn’t get a chance to wallow in it for too long before Merlin’s reply comes.

Oh no, now there are expectations I need to live up to :O

Jk. Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself last time. See you Thursday ;)

Red to the tips of his ears, he types out a quick see you before pocketing his phone, busying himself with the remaining paperwork in hopes it will calm down his racing heart.

He’s not that lucky.

On Thursday, he wraps up his work just before 5:30, hoping it’s enough time to get through the traffic.

It is, as it turns out.Though he’s cutting it close, parking the car just two minutes before six.

“Sorry, I underestimated the traffic,” he rushes to apologize when he bursts through the door, finding Merlin lounging peacefully on the sofa, swiping through his phone.

As soon as Merlin lifts his eyes to meet Arthur’s, his whole face lights up with a wide smile. “Hey! No problem at all. You’re my last massage for today, so no rush.”

“Thanks but it’s already late. I don’t wanna keep you any more than needed.”

Merlin dismisses his worries with a wave of a hand. “Nonsense. It’s no trouble. Come on in,” he smiles encouragingly and Arthur dutifully follows him to the massage room. It looks exactly the same but Arthur feels much more at ease than last time, now that he’s familiar with it.

“Thank you again for finding time for me,” he says gratefully because it feels like he hasn’t said it enough.

It earns him an indulgent smile. “I was happy to do it. It’s no trouble, really,” Merlin repeats and Arthur takes the hint.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoes. “You know the drill by now, right? I’ll be back in a few.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Merlin nods his head in acknowledgement, leaving the room to give Arthur privacy.

Similarly to last time, Arthur hangs his suit and shirt and folds the rest of his clothes, laying face down on the table and covering himself with the sheet. As promised, Merlin knocks on the door a couple minutes later, entering when Arthur gives him a go-ahead.

“Any requests today?”

He suppresses the urge to crack an inappropriate joke. “Not really. Same as last time is good.”

“Alright,” says Merlin and he starts the massage exactly in the same way he did last time, humming appreciatively when he rubs at Arthur’s shoulders.

“You’re not nearly as tense as before. Both literally and figuratively,” he points out.

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “I felt really good when I woke up the next day. All loose and relaxed.” He clears his throat, cringing at his wording. “And I was just nervous because it was my first time, I guess. Now that I know the ropes, it’s easy to just...”

“Let go?” Merlin finishes for him and... is that smugness he hears?

“Y-yeah,” he replies, feeling silly all of sudden.

“I’m glad to hear that. Glad I could help.”

“Me too.”

They remain silent after that. While Merlin doesn’t do anything out of the ordinary - or rather, anything that would be different to last time - Arthur can sense a shift in the energy in the room. In Merlin. In himself. He might be imagining it but he would swear that Merlin’s hands... linger - which is kinda a stupid thing to say, this is a massage after all, touch is a crucial component here - but... yeah... that’s what it feels like.

Every touch of Merlin’s hands on his body feels amplified, Arthur nearly vibrating in response to... he has no idea what he’s responding to. He only knows it feels good.

It feels right.

When Merlin asks him to flip onto his back, he’s relieved to find that the humiliating experience from last time is not gonna be repeated - no awkward boners today, ladies and gentlemen!

He hisses through his teeth when Merlin presses into a tender spot of his arm.

Merlin’s immediately apologetic. “Sorry! I didn’t expect you to be so sensitive here.”

“ ‘s fine,” he mumbles drowsily. “I might have overdone it in the gym today.”

“When did you have time to go to the gym?”

“Before work. Around five.”

“God, that’s disgusting. Why would you do that?” Merlin sounds truly appalled which only amuses Arthur.

“I’m too tired by the time I finish work. At least this way, I get a bit of a boost in the morning.”

“I’m still not convinced.”

“Shut up, Merlin. Without the gym, I wouldn’t have the ass you like so much.”

He snaps his eyes open in panic and finds Merlin gaping at him in shock.

“I... I did not... ugh...”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that, I swear! I’m just really tired, basically falling asleep. I just talk shit when I’m like that.”

Forget the boner. This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him.

Funnily enough, his stammering helps Merlin fight through his shock and now he’s more entertained than anything.

“No filter, huh? I can relate,” he brushes the whole thing off and resumes massaging over Arthur’s arm, softer this time and Arthur would moan appreciatively at the soothing effect the touch has on his sore muscles but given his previous faux pas, he doesn’t think it’s the right time for it.

Merlin works his way down to his hand, paying special attention to the spot at the base of his thumb that is always so stiff after spending hours and hours every day typing on his laptop.

A weird thing happens after that. Same as the last time, Merlin slides his fingers in between Arthur’s, squeezing and pulling until he hears a cracking sound of the joints. That is all well and good but instead of pulling away, he remains with their fingers interlaced. It almost feels... almost feels like they are holding hands.

Arthur opens his eyes again to give Merlin a questioning look but Merlin is staring at their joined hands instead, an expression on his face that Arthur can’t really decipher but if he were to guess, he would almost call it... longing.

Merlin must realize what he’s doing because his eyes widen as they lock onto Arthur’s, panicked and so blue.

“Sorry!” he blurts out, pulling away and ducking his head as he makes his way to the other side to repeat the process on the other hand.

Arthur feels the air around them grow thicker. He doesn’t know what happened exactly and doesn’t dare ask.

He can tell Merlin keeps himself in check as he finishes with his other side and it’s not long before he moves to the head massage.

After all of that, it’s really hard for Arthur to relax but he does his best as to not make things even more awkward.

He’s equally relieved and disappointed when Merlin’s hands disappear, signaling that their session has come to an end.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?” Merlin asks stiffly.

“Okay,” Arthur agrees, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding when Merlin shuts the door behind him.

Since he knows he doesn’t have to rush because he was the last client today, he takes his time putting the clothes on and mentally prepares himself for facing Merlin in a few moments.

It takes all of his courage to maintain eye contact when he leaves the room, coming to the desk where Merlin’s already waiting for him with a glass of water.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t finish the whole glass, his stomach too unsettled for that and pulls out his wallet.

“I know for sure Freya didn’t pay in advance since I booked the massage myself this time,” he comments in what he hopes is a light-hearted tone. It works because it draws a chuckle from Merlin.

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees, going quiet again but shaking himself off at Arthur’s expectant look. “Oh! Sorry, it’s seventy pounds.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow in surprise. While he wouldn’t know anything about the regular massage price, it doesn’t seem too much considering how popular Merlin is. According to Freya, anyway.

He plucks out two fifty dollar bills and hands them over. Merlin blinks at him in confusion. “Um... that’s a bit--”

“Just take it. You deserve it. You’re good and you went far and beyond to make time for me even at the late hour.”

“It was no tr--”

“Merlin, will you shut up and take the bloody money?” he nearly whines at the man’s stubbornness, relieved when Merlin eventually gives in.

“You’re so bossy,” he shakes his head almost fondly.

“Goes with the territory. I’m the CEO after all.”

“In that case, that was a lousy tip for a CEO.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

And just like that, the tension has disappeared and they are back to their easy banter.

“I’m just teasing,” Merlin reassures unnecessarily, a dopey smile still in place. “Let me know if you wanna do this again, yeah?” He sounds unsure, although why, Arthur has no idea.

“Actually, if you really don’t mind, could we make it a weekly thing?”

“Oh,” Merlin says with surprise. “Sure. Thursday again? Or do you want a different day?”

“Thursday is good. Six o’clock?”

“Yeah. Yeah, works for me.”

“Brilliant,” Arthur smiles back. “I’ll see you next week, then?”

“Looking forward to it.” The way Merlin’s face softens further shouldn’t make Arthur’s stomach do flip-flops but for some reason, it does.

Oh, no. Abort, abort!

“Yeah. See you,” he mumbles and all but runs to his car.

Arthur lets out a girly squeal when Freya slams a pile of papers onto his desk.

“Why haven’t you gone see Merlin again?” she asks accusingly and... wait, what?

“Excuse me?”

“I thought you liked the massage. That you felt better after. I thought you’d go back.”

Well, not that it’s any of her business but...

“I’ve been like four more times since,” he argues back, watching Freya’s furious expression turn confused.

“No, you haven’t. There’s no way you could have altered your schedule yourself without me noticing.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, annoyed that he, the fucking CEO, has to explain himself to his assistant. “Yes, I have. I’m going today, actually. I go every Thursday after work. Well, I finish early, so I can be there at six. Which, by the way, you could have done the first time around. I truly don’t understand why you’d rather mess with my appointments to get me a rushed massage on my break instead of simply booking one in the evening.”

If anything, Freya grows even more confused. “You’re lying.”

Arthur positively bristles at the insult. “I’m not!”

“You so are. Merlin doesn’t work evenings. And he doesn’t work weekends. His last bookings are for 4 o’clock. Hence why I had to book you for your break.”

He’s already preparing a come-back to defend himself when the words finally sink in. He snaps his mouth shut.

Then why... why did Merlin agree to Thursday evenings? That doesn’t make any sense.

“Are you sure you’ve got that right?” he asks instead because... because if it’s true, it puts many things into perspective.

Like the fact that Merlin literally beams every time Arthur shows up.

Or the fact that his touch seems to linger, seems to grow more and more intense with every visit. Like he’s enjoying touching Arthur.

At first, Arthur thought it was just his imagination, but upon checking the time when he got to his car only to find Merlin had extended the massage by at least ten or fifteen minutes, it was obvious that he wasn’t making it up.

Most importantly, it would explain why Merlin started texting Arthur randomly, usually on Fridays to ask how he was doing, if he felt alright and so on.

It would even explain why he would sometimes text on the weekend too.

It did not explain why Arthur indulged in the texting.

It did not explain why it was the highlight of his days.

“I’m sure,” Freya replies, confirming his growing suspicion. When he doesn’t react, she turns concerned. “Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitates. “You’re not lying.” A statement, not a question, but he still answers it.

“No.”

“Oh,” she breathes, out of words.

“Do you...” He clears his throat. “Do you know why Merlin would make an exception for me?”

The glint in her eyes suggests that she might have a good idea about that, but doesn’t say so. “I think you should ask Merlin that.”

Yeah. Yeah, he should.

He will.

“You seem very... serious today. What happened?”

“Why did you agree on 6pm Thursdays?” he asks directly before he loses the nerve.

“Huh?” Merlin blinks at him.

“Freya told me you don’t do evenings. Why would you let me impose on your time?” God, he feels so stupid.

“Oh,” says Merlin. “Well, first of all, you’re not imposing.”

“But-”

“Second, working for yourself has a lot of perks. Like that I can do with my time as I see fit.”

“So you decided to spend it on me.”

“More like spend it with you.”

Spend it with-- oh. Oh.

“What? Why?”

Unexpectedly, Merlin snorts. “You don’t know?”

No. No he doesn’t.

“No.”

“Oh, my, you’re a right dumbass.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, apparently running out of patience. “I simply like you, okay? At first, I agreed because you seemed like you could use some relaxation. Quite a bit of it, really.”

Arthur bites his lip, hesitating with the next question. “And then?”

Merlin sighs, shoulders sagging almost in defeat. “And then I just liked seeing you.”

Arthur takes in a shaky breath, both startled and excited by the admission. “Why didn’t you just ask me out, then?”

Merlin laughs, but there’s very little humor in it. “That’s hardly professional, Arthur.”

“That’s what worried you?”

“Of course it did! It does! Jesus, Arthur, you have no idea,” he shakes his head, “no idea how much I have to hold myself back when I have my hands all over you.”

Arthur swallows audibly, noticing for the first time how dry his throat has gotten. Well, here goes nothing.

”What if... what if I don’t want you to hold back?”

Merlin stares at him with his mouth hanging open, his gaze roaming over Arthur’s face in search of something. Probably a confirmation.

“Arthur, that’s not--”

“It’s 6:02,” he blurts out.

“What?”

“It’s two minutes past six. You should have started with the massage by now.”

Initially, Merlin doesn’t respond, looking as though Arthur’s talking in a different language. When Arthur holds his eyes, hoping to prove his point, he resigns on any further arguments.

“Come on in then,” he instructs tiredly and Arthur follows him to the room. He’s shedding his jacket even before they get there. He hangs it and starts taking off his tie just as Merlin turns around to face him.

“Okay, I’ll let you--” He cuts himself off when Arthur pulls the tie over his head, throwing it on the chair and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t bother,” he says, too pleased with himself when Merlin stays rooted to the spot, openly staring.

“Uh...” Is all he manages when Arthur gets rid of the shirt, exposing his chest (which - it’s not like Merlin’s never seen it before anyway) and begins working his belt and trousers open. Soon, he’s pulling them down together with his briefs, stepping out of his shoes in the meantime.

As he straightens up, completely naked, he takes a few seconds to appreciate the way Merlin looks at him, his jaw practically hitting the floor. Lips twisting into a smug smile, he turns to the table to climb on it, settling on his stomach as he does every time, except now he doesn’t bother covering himself up with a sheet.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he calls with barely concealed amusement when Merlin doesn’t move an inch.

“Uh... yeah. Yeah, let me just...” he stutters, reaching for the sheet.

“Leave it.”

“W-what?”

“No point.”

“But--”

“Merlin,” Arthur says darkly, “leave it.”

Thank fuck, Merlin actually listens and abandons the sheet in favor of grabbing a bottle of oil, pouring some in his hands with trembling fingers.

“Arthur...” he tries one more time, hesitant.

“Merlin,” Arthur returns. “Shut up.”

He hears Merlin exhale shakily and then, the familiar sensation of oil-slicked hands takes over all of his senses. He sighs in relief when the touch causes his body to go completely lax as it always does.

Merlin’s hands are unusually tentative, like he’s still not sure he’s got Arthur’s permission to touch him - like this - after what he admitted to him. It’s for that reason that Arthur starts making deliberate noises of pleasure, humming softly, or outright groaning and moaning when Merlin arrives to a particularly sensitive spot.

Above him, Merlin begins making noises of his own, but he sounds more pained than anything. Out of curiosity, Arthur turns his head to the side to peer at Merlin, just to be able to see what expression is on his face right now.

He doesn’t get that far because all of his attention is stolen by the very visible, very prominent bulge pressing against the front of Merlin’s trousers.

“Shit,” he utters before he can stop himself, feeling his dick twitch helplessly where it’s almost squashed between his body and the table.

Immediately, Merlin freezes on the spot, his breath hitching.

“I... Arthur...”

Arthur lets out another moan at witnessing Merlin’s obvious desire for him and returns his head to the previous position.

“You can do my legs now,” he says suggestively, but it sounds more like an order. For a moment, nothing happens. Merlin doesn’t withdraw his hands but he doesn’t move either. Arthur is about to impatiently prompt him to action but in the end, Merlin goes willingly, moving around the table until he’s standing at Arthur’s feet.

He covers his left leg with oil and proceeds to massage it from the foot up, almost as if nothing unusual is happening.

It’s not until he makes his way past the knee, to the hamstrings and inner thigh, that Arthur feels him falter, the pressure letting off and in a desperate attempt to urge Merlin on, he spreads his legs further apart.

Behind him, Merlin makes a choked off sound, his grip on Arthur’s thigh tightening.

“A-Arthur,” he says like a prayer and Arthur feels himself grow harder the lower Merlin’s voice drops.

“Go on,” he orders and this time, Merlin recovers faster, sparing barely a few seconds before he starts rubbing his thigh in circular motion, slowly working his way up, up, all the way to his ass - his very exposed ass.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers, barely audible, but Arthur hears him all the same. He knows what he’s asking and in lieu of an answer, he digs his knees into the table to push his hip up and back, groaning when the movement provides friction to his now fully erect cock.

“Do it,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please.”

Merlin makes an indescribable sound and then his slick fingers are dipping tentatively between his cheeks, brushing against his entrance.

Arthur feels his pulse quicken, heat spreading throughout his whole body at the single touch.

“Gods, Arthur, the sounds you make...” Merlin praises, rubbing at his opening in tiny circles.

“Merlin,” he returns, attempting to spread his legs further apart. Merlin all but growls at the display and then he’s bending over to pepper kisses over Arthur’s naked shoulders, even as his fingers press against him more insistently.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Arthur,” he mumbles into his skin and Arthur trembles at the soft-spoken words.

“Fuck me,” he moans, hitching his hips up. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Shit, Arthur, you can’t just.... can’t just say stuff like that.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just hurry up and get on with it,” he tries to sound irritated but it falls flat when a whine is torn out of his throat as Merlin enters him with one finger.

“Shit. Shit...”

“Payback,” Merlin laughs, kissing just behind his ear.

“Merlin, I swear to God...”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” he retorts with fondness and starts pumping the finger in and out.

Satisfied when Merlin actually listens, Arthur is able to relax again, offering himself to Merlin’s skilled hands.

He is nothing but gentle as he works Arthur open, adding more oil before a second finger joins the first, then a third one.

Under him, Arthur’s rolling his hips against the table, seeking as much friction as he can because Merlin’s taking too bloody long, checking on him every two fucking minutes. Just as he’s about to call him out, the fingers brush against his prostate, successfully stealing all the words out of his mouth, together with his breath.

“Fuck,” he grips at the edge of the table, struggling to breathe.

Merlin chuckles at his reaction. “You like that?” he asks smugly, totally unhelpful and unnecessary and hits that spot again.

“Would l-like it better if you f-finally got your dick in m-me,” he trips over his tongue, panting.

“Impatient,” Merlin clicks his tongue but before Arthur can tell him where he can stick it (pun intended), Merlin’s fingers leave him.

His breath hitches at the sudden emptiness and in hopes of speeding up the process, he gathers his strength to hitch himself up until he’s on all fours. He expects Merlin to climb up behind him but instead, there’s a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to twist to the side.

“Not like that,” Merlin explains, nudging him until he’s turned over completely, facing him. “I want to see you.”

Arthur wants to crack a joke, call Merlin sappy and whatnot, but he can only blush.

“Oh.”

“Can you sit on the edge?” Merlin instructs, helping him to get into position. He manages just fine by himself, sitting on the side of the table with his legs hanging off. He watches, mesmerized, as Merlin rids himself of his T-shirt and trousers in under ten seconds, feeling accomplished at seeing him so impatient himself even though he chastised Arthur for it only minutes ago.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, hearing the blood rush in his ears. Merlin gives him a dark look, clearly disapproving of his tone, and takes the final step until he’s standing between his open thighs, grabbing him by the hips and pulling forward.

The movement is so sudden that it sends Arthur flat onto his back, hips hanging off the table. Merlin nudges him to wrap his legs around him and braces himself against the edge with his hands.

“You’re such a bloody tease,” he chides with a shake of his head.

“Shut up, Mer-- fuuuck,” he nearly chokes as Merlin’s cock breaches him without a warning, sliding in fully with one push. “Shit.”

“Okay?” Merlin checks with a quake in his voice, proving he’s not as collected as he makes himself to be.

“Y-yeah. Just move already.”

Merlin chuckles. “So bossy.” Then proceeds to do just that. He pulls back almost completely before pushing back in, again, and one more time until he’s settling into a rhythm.

It takes Arthur a couple more minutes to catch his breath but when he does, he focuses on meeting Merlin halfway, although the position barely allows it.

“M-Merlin.”

Merlin snaps his hips almost violently at hearing his name tumble from Arthur’s lips in that tone and Arthur moans loudly when he drives directly into his prostate.

“Fuck! Fuck, Merlin. R-right there.”

“God, Arthur. It‘s so good. You’re so good.”

Arthur keens at the praise, urging Merlin to go faster.

Instead, Merlin halts all the movement, earning a desperate whine from Arthur. He chuckles at the reaction and leans forward to slide his hands underneath him to pull him up until he’s sitting up, their chests close enough to touch.

“Arthur,” he whispers in the space between them before there’s none because suddenly, Merlin’s crashing their lips together, unexpected and so good. He swallows the surprised sound from Arthur’s lips, licking into his mouth.

Arthur moans in agreement, wrapping him in his arms and deepening the kiss.

Merlin grabs him by the hips again and starts a new rhythm, his thrust shorter but harder.

Arthur whimpers against his lips, squeezing Merlin between his thighs. He gives up any effort to help Merlin out and decides to kiss the living hell out of him while Merlin plows his ass.

It works just fine and it’s not long before Merlin’s thrusts grow erratic and uncoordinated.

“A-Arthur,” he chokes out between kisses. “I’m gonna...”

Instead of replying, Arthur takes his lips in another kiss and clenches around his cock, drawing a hiss from him.

“Arthur!”

“Yeah, come on,” he encourages and clenches his ass again.

Merlin manages two, three, four more thrusts before he stills, buried to the hilt and spills himself inside Arthur. He presses his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck, panting against the sweaty skin while his hips continue their subtle grinding motion.

Arthur presses a kiss to his temple, sliding his fingers through the dark locks, marveling at the silkiness.

Merlin lifts his head to peer at him from under his lashes. His pupils are blown wide, overtaking all the blue of his irises. There’s a lovely flush to his cheeks and the way his fringe sticks to his sweaty forehead is almost endearing.

Arthur’s never seen him like this and he wants to appreciate the view but doesn’t get much time because then, Merlin is untangling his legs from around him and slides to his knees in front of Arthur. He gives him a little smirk before opening his mouth wide and swallowing his cock.

“Nngh!” Arthur yelps with surprise, throwing his head back in unexpected pleasure.

“Shit, Merlin.”

Merlin hums around his cock and starts sucking him in earnest. It feels so good he can’t even feel embarrassed when he feels Merlin’s come leaking out of him and to his shock, he also feels Merlin’s fingers slide into him again, hitting his prostate with deadly precision. “Merlin!”

It barely takes another half a minute before Arthur’s screaming himself hoarse as his orgasm overtakes him and he comes in Merlin’s mouth. Still, Merlin’s mouth doesn’t leave him, working him through his release instead until he’s whimpering from over-sensitivity and pulling at his hair to pry him off.

Merlin releases his cock with an obscene sound that echoes in the small room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands up between Arthur’s open legs.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing he asks and Arthur can’t help but laugh.

“Are you for real?” Merlin just blinks at him. “We should have done that ages ago, instead of the massage.”

Merlin groans in annoyance. “That’s not the nature of my business, Arthur!”

His irritation only amuses Arthur further. “You could make an exception for me,” he teases, pulling Merlin closer and Merlin goes willingly, although the scowl is still on his face.

“That depends on how much you’ll tip me,” he shoots back.

“Oh, I’ll tip you all you want, Merlin.”

Merlin slaps the back of his head gently. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Hmm. But I think you like it,” he says smugly, pulling him into another kiss, letting out a moan when he tastes himself on his lips.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who just got fucked on a massage table.”

“You mean for someone who just talked his masseur into fucking him on a massage table.”

“I think manipulated is better-fitting.”

“Or seduced.”

Merlin scoffs. “You did not seduce me.”

“Oh, really?” he teases. “I’d say you gave it up pretty easy after seeing me in my birthday suit.”

“I did not!”

“You did, though.”

“Your mind is misleading you.”

“Whatever you say,” Arthur concludes dismissively, then gives Merlin a wicked grin. “Next time, you’re gonna lie down on this table and I’m gonna ride you.”

Unsursprisingly, Merlin all but chokes on thin air. “That... uh... sounds... agreeable.”

“I’ll say.”

“You’re so annoyingly confident.”

“Just because you make it so easy.”

“Arthur.”

“Merlin,” he huffs. “Shut up. And kiss me again.”

And for once, without a single protest, Merlin does just that.

OMFG, Merlin! You DIDN'T!

Huh?

Don't "huh" me! You know bloody well!

Apparently not.

You fucked my boss!

!!! JFC, I can't believe he told you! :O

I sent him your way so he got that stick out of his ass. Not for you to replace it with your dick!

He didn't. His limp did, jsyk.

He could have hurt his leg or something...

And he brought me coffee. He'd never brought me coffee before! I've never seen him in such a good mood!

Your welcome :-*

*You're

That's disgusting. I'm never getting a massage from you ever again!

Oh, well... it was worth it :-p

*Freya has left the chat*

[joetatoeheads]

i read “if he wanted you he’d make an effort if he missed you he’d make time” and LOVED IT SM its so well written!! could u make an ilya imagine with some pre relationship angst like that one? thank u hehe

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: None that I can think of? But I am so sorry this took so long.

Masterlist

Natalie. It had always been Natalie. Natalie was David’s best friend. Ilya was Natalie and David’s best friend. Y/N was no one’s best friend. A mere side character in everyone else’s story and that was no problem. In Y/N’s opinion it was better to be heard than seen. Y/N had spent almost her entire life surrounded more beautiful, funny, and charismatic people, there was just no room for her to shine.

Life went on for the four and all of a sudden David’s in LA with millions of followers, Natalie joins him as his assistant, and Ilya stayed but it was obvious sometimes he wanted to leave to LA but Y/N was holding him back. Not in a bad way, but she would not leave to go to California out of all places.

“You’re leaving, now?”

“I have some business down there and David is letting me stay at his place.”

“How long are you going to be gone?” asked Y/N.

“Just a week or two. Hey when I can come back, we can go out and have brunch for your birthday.”

“Okay.” Smiled Y/N.

Ilya did not come back in time because David was shooting a bit for his vlog so Ilya missed his flight. Y/N spent her birthday with her mom who baked her some cupcakes and sung her happy birthday alone. It had always been the two of them so friends quickly became family. Y/N always got too attached to friends thinking they were like brothers and sisters but they never felt the same way.

For years Y/N would invite people over or go to the movies. Sometimes they came and sometimes they didn’t. So, the friend group got smaller and smaller over the years. David and Natalie left for LA and Y/N wasn’t too good with keeping in touch some days. Ilya was the only one left, the only consistent one.

“Do you think I should move to LA?” asked Ilya.

“What?”

“Do you think I should move to LA?” repeated Ilya.

“I-I…I don’t know.”

“David said I could crash with him for a bit if I want to get a place over there and I think I might do it.”

“You…you would leave like permanently?” asked Y/N.

“Maybe, I don’t know, I could. You could go to. We could go to David’s also Nat was asking me about you. They said it’s been months since you last talked to them.”

“It hasn’t been months.”

“David said it was and Nat showed me the messages. We should go! It would be good.”

“I don’t do planes.”

“I never said anything about planes,” smiled Ilya.

“Are you- are you suggesting you drive. I can’t drive, you know I can’t drive and…and we can’t drive across the country. You can’t drive across the country!” rambled Y/N.

“I want you to come to California and you have a fear of planes. Seems like the only option.”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! What the fuck Ilya! How long would it be like a week?”

Ilya laughed at her, “It’s a day nonstop but knowing you and your bladder might take us a week,” joked Ilya.

“Are you serious? Because I’ve always wanted to leave the state! Oh my god Ilya. I can’t believe we are going to do this.”

“We might have to bring someone else.”

Things just crashed, “Why?”

“Two maybe three days in a car across the country? Y/N we would kill each other,” laughed Ilya.

“I could not talk. Would that help?” It was a genuine question because this was the most fun Y/N would ever have.

“I was joking. I’ll call Natalie and see how long we are going to stay. Pack lightly my car isn’t that big!” Ilya left Y/N in a state of shock. A road trip across the country with a boy, her best friend, and she would finally leave the state. It was a dream come true.

Two weeks in California was not at all what Y/N expected. It took three days to get to David’s with Y/N wanted to stop to take a picture at every sign as they entered the state, her constant need to go to the bathroom, and wanting to take pictures at every beautiful sunset. At first Ilya was annoyed but it like the smile you would get and how your eyes lit up whenever you jumped up and down ready to take out your phone.

You both got to David’s house around 4 in the morning but you had already knocked out. Ilya was the one to carry you into the house and lay you down on the couch.

“She looks so different,” observed David in slight worry.

“It’s been a rough couple of months. Her mom got sick and…”

“Oh…oh okay. She just- she looks so…I don’t know.”

“The trip really made her happy,” assured Ilya.

“Good, that’s good. I had Natalie fix up the room I thought - I don’t know what – You two are sharing a bed.”

“Are you okay?” asked Ilya.

“Yeah, yeah I just…I didn’t think she would come.”

“Dude you’re acting like she’s dying or something. Are you okay?”

“Does Y/N have a boyfriend?” asked David.

Ilya did not expect that, “Uh…yeah, I think she does.” That was a complete lie. But Ilya didn’t think Y/N would want to start dating in such a hard part of her life.

“Really? Matt thought she was pretty and asked if she was seeing anyone. I told him no, but I’ll have to text him later.”

“Matt King? They wouldn’t work out,” said Ilya.

“Really? I thought they would. Y/N always gravitated toward certain men.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Y/N likes strong men-“

“Matt isn’t strong.” Interrupted Ilya.

“Not like that. Y/N always had you to protect her our entire lives and she just needs someone to protect her.”

“Matt wouldn’t do that.”

“How do you know?” asked David.

“Because Matt would get frustrated easily with her. You know how he blows up on everybody else whenever he is told he’s wrong. Y/N takes time to understand. Remember how you hated her?”

“I didn’t hate her. She was just very straight forward…I wasn’t used to that.”

David and Ilya went to sleep while Y/N was still on the couch. What they didn’t know, Y/N had been awake while they talked. She had heard everything and she didn’t know what to think. Ilya lied to David and she could tell him the truth but what good what they do.

The next day when the four of them were talking before the rest of the group came, David accidentally mentioned a boy when Natalie asked Y/N if she had a special someone in her life, “Sort of.” Answered Y/N.

“Sort of? So are you two friends with benefits or something?”

Y/N briefly looked at Ilya before turning her full attention to Natalie, “I don’t think he wants anything serious. It’s…weird.”

“You don’t deserve to be lead on.” smiled Natalie. She protected Y/N in her own way. A sister type that Y/N never had.

“I don’t think it’s being strung along maybe just... waiting for the right time? Does that make sense?”

“Sometimes there is never a right time. Sometimes you have to make one.” Said Ilya.

Ilya and Y/N looked at each other, almost like the two wanted to say something more but didn’t. Then would have been the perfect time for Y/N to say she has been in love with Ilya ever since David left in California. Y/N only had him left and maybe it was simply a childhood attachment or maybe it was love, either way she knew something was there.

For Ilya she was the first one by his side when things got rough or whenever he got happy news, Y/N had been the first person he thought about. For him, maybe it was his mind tricking him into settling, but to be with Y/N was not settling entirely. If some guy wanted to be with Y/N the only thing Ilya could think about was that he won’t be kind to her. He won’t be patient and understand how picky she is about everything and it’s not because she wanted to be frustrating or complicated but because it made her calm.

Who knew if the new guy was going to understand that?

The conversation changed and it was maddening. To think something but not have the courage to say it… that’s one of the saddest things to happen to a person. Days later Ilya watched as Matt asked Y/N on a date. He kept his mouth shut even though everything felt wrong but she was happy. She could not stop smiling after the date and her face would get all red at the mention of Matt’s name.

All Ilya could think about was it didn’t feel right.

“Does she know?” asked Natalie one night. David was in his room editing with Joe and Ilya was on the couch looking at his phone every ten seconds thinking Y/N was going to text him.

“Know what?”

“That you have feelings for her?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N’s on her third date with Matt and you are going crazy looking at your phone. What, you think she’s going to call you and ask you to pick her up from her horrible date?” asked Natalie.

“…Maybe.”

“I doubt the date is going all wrong. Matt spent a week preparing the night.”

“What?! What is he preparing for? What do you think they are doing?” asked Ilya in a slight panic.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No! Nobody tells me anything anymore!”

“He made like a candlelight dinner in the backyard. He went all out with steaks and stuff,” explained Natalie. Ilya laughed. He didn’t know. “What?” asked Natalie.

“Y/N doesn’t eat meat. She’s been a vegetarian for some years now because meat makes her throw up.”

“Really? I always feel like she eats meat whenever we go out?”

“She eats it sometimes but it makes her sick after. Steak makes her sick for a couple days like a really bad hangover.” Explained Ilya.

“I’ll be sure to remember that.” Nodded Natalie as she left him alone on the couch.

Y/N did come back to David’s and she immediately looked for Ilya in a panic. She looked like she was about to cry.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Ilya was panicking thinking the worse possible scenarios in his head.

“I ate steak. I ate meat! I feel sick. I feel like throwing up. Oh my god, I feel like dying!”

“Alright let’s go into the bathroom.”

It only took seconds before Y/N was throwing up and apologizing for throwing up. It was typical for her. Years spent in the background, to be anyone’s center of attention, it felt uncomfortable.

“What do you need me to do?” asked Ilya.

Y/N couldn’t talk. She felt gross, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do after this. Do you take medicine? Do you rehydrate? Do you eat again? Do you sleep it all off? All those questions made Y/N start crying.

“I’m sorry.”

“You really don’t have to say that. It’s a really bad habit.”

“I could not, not eat it. He made it.”

“You have the right to refuse something, especially when it makes you sick.”

“But…what if he thinks that I’m not worth the trouble? What if he thinks I’m too picky about things and leaves?” asked Y/N.

“Picky is one thing, but something like meat making you physically sick is not being overdramatic or anything. You should speak up more.”

Y/N nodded but she didn’t think it was right. It someone took the time to make you something, you can’t just turn it away. That would be bad. Ilya helped Y/N into a bed and took care of her the next day but he was itching to go over to Matt’s and talk to him. David had talked him out of it, but he did go to Matt’s several days after.

Before Matt and Y/N’s fourth date, Ilya went over to Matt. It was an awkward conversation but Ilya was ready to burst out with all this information.

“What’s up?”

“She can’t eat meat! It makes her sick but she likes chocolate. Buy her chocolate and she’ll be happy. It’s one of her favorite’s things in the world but don’t buy her a lot of it. She likes chocolate-covered strawberries but hates chocolate cake because she thinks it’s too much and it also makes her sick. She loves ice cream but none of that fancy stuff with a bunch of flavors or nuts. Y/N likes strawberry flavored stuff the best and her favorite ice cream is butter pecan but that will never be her first choice so you have to pick it out and she’ll love it.

When you take her to new places, you have to be by her side. Sometimes you’ll have to order for her if she keeps on flipping through the menu because she’s indecisive at new places. But if you order for her, you have to be careful because if you mess up and chose the wrong thing, she won’t say anything and make herself sick. And don’t leave her alone or she starts to freak out and might have an anxiety attack or a panic attack. You should learn the difference because she’ll want to be hugged during a panic attack but she’ll want to be alone for hours after an anxiety attack.

And comedy isn’t her thing. She feels awkward during romantic comedies so you should only really watch horror movies, they’re her favorite. But she’s picky about what movies she likes. They either have to be really bad that she can’t stop talking about it or really good that she can’t stop talking about it. If you watch something with a lot of jump scares expect her to come to you because she will get nightmares.

If she’s quiet she’s replaying things in her head and that makes her really sad so you have to watch out for those things. Be careful what you say because she’ll replay the conversation over and over again in her head for months, sometimes even years. It might seem like a lot but it’s worth it. She…she’s worth it.” Ilya took a deep breath and rather than stay and listen to Matt he left and pretended like things never happened.

“Ilya did you… did you talk to Matt?”

“Uh, yeah I did.”

“What did you tell him? He called off our date.”

“I just told him you got sick and you don’t eat meat.” Answered Ilya.

“Is that it?”

“Yeah.”

“Ilya.”

He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t tell her the truth. “We should stay for another week or two.”

“Okay.”

Another week or two for Ilya was only a couple of days for Y/N. She wanted to leave. She wanted to get away from California and return back to her life. California was not for her, it was foreign, it was wrong. Even with her fear of planes, Y/N wanted to leave so a plane was her only option. Years in a big city, she had always relied on public transport so learning to drive never was a top priority.

Waiting for a car to leave in the middle of the night wasn’t what Y/N wanted to do. Only Natalie and David knew she was leaving but not like this. When Ilya woke up the next morning he looked for Y/N to ask her what she wanted for lunch but he couldn’t find her.

“Natalie! Where is Y/N?”

“She left.”

“Left? Left where?”

“Back home. She wanted to leave last minutes and her flight was really early this morning so she left around 4.”

“Flight? She can’t go on a plane she’s afraid of them. How long ago did she leave.”

“She’s probably home by now. It’s too late.”

“Late? No its not! She probably had a panic attack; she needs someone to calm her down. I have to go. I have to go make sure she’s okay.”

“Ilya, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Said Natalie.

“Why?!”

“Because you always being there isn’t always a good thing.”

“You two left, okay! You two left and she couldn’t get out a bed for months! I was there! I was there and she needs me.”

Ilya didn’t mean to yell at Natalie like that but he was upset. Y/N would never just leave without telling him. For years, it was the two of them going through life but now it seemed like he didn’t have Y/N anymore.

When Ilya returned to Chicago, Y/N pretended like LA didn’t happen. Things returned to normal but Ilya didn’t tell her anything. It was a horrible thing to have something to say and not have the courage to say it.

[artistrashofmine]

Ehhh I posted a pwp, KiriBaku fic last night. The one that I posted a little snippet on a month or so back.  Check it out on AO3. Or continue on reading.

Bakugou’s an alpha. His confirmation of that fact came today just like most teenagers in their first or second year of high school.

And Bakugou likes to pride himself on being good at everything he does. Top grades, amazing quirk control, quick thinker, good cook, clean room. But he’s a shitty alpha. A fucking horrible excuse of an alpha.

Because male alpha’s don’t produce slick. Yet here he was, cock hardened and inner thighs coated in the clear substance. An he was an alpha because he had a fucking knot. And people wouldn’t stop reminding him of his stupid scent. He wasn’t complaining, it didn’t matter all that much of what he was, either way, it wouldn’t affect his goal of becoming a hero. Plenty of his classmates were omegas, just as plenty of them were alphas, and plenty of them were betas. It was a pretty even split actually.

Though he doubts many of the alpha’s produced slick . So you could see why he was confused to all hell, waking up in the middle of a rut to find fucking slick running down his legs. That alone was strange enough, it didn’t help that his hole was practically begging for something to enter it.

And it wasn’t like Bakugou hadn’t thought of it in the past. He never went as far as fingering himself, but he thought about it. How it might feel, to have something pounding into him. And maybe that was only because of who he thought of doing it with. And maybe the fact that he was an alpha didn’t matter when it came to becoming a hero, but it did matter when it came to relationships.

Low and behold, the Bakugou Katsuki, talking about the importance of relationships , high school lovers and all that shit as if it were more important than saving lives. As if it mattered in the long run. As if it was even believed that it was Bakugou who was concerning themself with relationships. Bakugou who could hardly admit to having friends.

Bakugou Katsuki who was fucked up, slicked up because the only fucking thing he could think of on this shitty excuse for a rut was an alpha, a strong alpha. Because that’s what he deserved and apparently that’s the only thing his body would settle for - acting as a fleshlight for his powerful alpha. His mind came to the conclusion that no one else was good enough, not some soft omega that other alphas would love, and not a warm body to fuck into - Katsuki wanted to be that body.

Maybe it was his own fault, setting himself up for this kind of shit. But would thoughts alone be enough to warrant a slicked up hole? Thoughts of the stupid alpha’s smile, the sharp teeth as he claimed the blond. of Katsuki’s hands wrapped up in the obnoxious red hair. God, it had Katsuki ready to pop his knot. He wanted to cum all over that body, the fucking ripped body, maybe it’d be hardened, fuck, have the rock hard body under him. Katsuki would be grinding against his face, squeezing it between his thighs - could go as hard as he wanted, wouldn’t have to worry about hurting the idiot.

He squeezed his half-formed knot before giving a tug to his cock, clenching his thighs together, lubed up by the wasted slick. His head thrown back, teeth biting down on his lip to muffle a moan, his hand speeding up, his thrusting up into the heat.

Katsuki came to the thought of the redhead alpha, to Kirishima’s sharp teeth and hungry eyes.    

Yeah, what a shitty alpha he made.

To say he was grumpy two days later was an understatement. He was getting congratulated for fuck’s sake. They could all smell his scent changing earlier, before the rut, and that was bad enough. But now, he reeked of alpha, of post-rut. Everyone knew he was a fucking knot-head. He smelled different and he hated it. He remembered when he first got his quirk, he had gotten so fed up with the sweet scent of his sweat that he had started begging his mom for a bath nearly every hour. Of course he never got that bath, but it was a nightmare. Not only for him, but for those who had to deal with his whiny ass.

At least now he wasn’t a whiny brat anymore, but he knew how to hold a grudge. And in this case, his grudge was with biology. The stupid thing can go fuck its self. Apparently, everyone else thought otherwise. It was a fucking gift that he finally presented, as if he had been reborn or some shit like that. And all Katsuki wanted to do was forget about it. Forget the whole thing happened and go back to when he was blissfully unaware.

“Congrats man!” But no, it was never that easy, “looks like we’re both alphas.”

Yeah, thanks for the reminder Shitty-Hair.

A fucking disaster, that’s what his life was, a fucking disaster.

“You don’t look all that pleased though, what’s going on?” The redhead had his arm slung across the blond as they made their way to school, congratulating him on becoming the exact opposite of what Katsuki had hoped - that’s what was going on.

“Nothing, it’s not a big deal so fuck off with the congratulations shit.” He scowled, eyes averted, not unusual behaviour for the hothead.

“Dude, come on. You might be the oldest in the class, but you're the last to present! It’s a big deal!” Did it matter that much to him?

Katsuki’s eyebrow twitched, “not to me it isn’t. I don’t fucking care. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

He met Kirishima’s confused red eyes, “nothing.“

The redhead dropped the conversation from there, moving on to lighter topics, attempting to trick Katsuki into studying with him again for the test that was coming up. It wasn’t really a trick seeing that the blond could see it from a mile away and wasn’t all that opposed to studying with Shark-Teeth, but he let the other live in his oblivious world.

Besides, Katsuki could only imagine what the other would think if he found out the blond’s dirty secret. No more studying, no more walking to class together or the brightly toothed smiles. It’d be over. Katsuki wouldn’t risk that. He felt sick, living in his fantasy of his friend, knowing how much the other would likely look down at him for it and still selfishly soaking up all the attention he offered, but he couldn’t help it. He craved it, craved the other's attention.

So he could never say no when the other asked to hang out, asked to study. In his room. He liked being in Kirishima’s room. It smelled so strong of the alpha, Katsuki couldn’t get enough of it. Plus his instincts were going crazy now that he presented, and not in the aggressive alpha way. Rather than getting rid of the scent, he wanted to bathe in it. Wanted to combine it with his own.

God, something was really fucked up with his hormones, he should probably schedule a doctor's appointment or something. But it was only with Kirishima, the thought of any other alpha in the room, anyone else covered in the redhead’s scent, had Katsuki burning with anger, possessiveness. He got one alpha reaction at least. Usually, those would be towards omega’s though, sometimes beta’s, but never other alphas. This was giving him a headache.  

It made it difficult to concentrate on the other’s questions and work which was stupid because Kiri was the whole reason he was going through this crisis. He wanted to be here, to have the alpha’s attention, to be near him, not to let his mind wander on how fucked up he is.

“No, Bakugou. Seriously dude, are you alright?” Apparently, the one in question had noticed his absent mind as well.

“Yeah, I’m good. What the hell was your question?” But Shitty-Hair didn’t accept that answer, setting his pencil down and turning his body to face the blond.

“I didn’t ask a question, I finished one. Come on man, we’re friends, you know you can talk to me?” Friends, that was the problem. And it’s not like Katsuki could just talk to him, they wouldn’t be friends after that kind of discussion. At least he wouldn’t think so. Still, maybe he could get some insight on something. And it wouldn’t be admitting his big fat crush.

He took a deep breath, “my biology is fucking wack.”

Shitty-Hair raised an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes, “I mean what I said. I presented and it was fucking weird. All that alpha shit is messed up.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, a flush coming to his checks, “you mean your knot?!”

Why did he think this was a good idea?

“What- no. Just other signs, just- not only signs that I’m an alpha, but ones that omega’s and shit have.” This had to be the most painful conversation he’ll ever experience, “that’s all, alright? Gonna talk to a doctor or something.”

At least it’ll keep the other off his back. Keep him from further worrying.

Only he should have expected that Kirishima wouldn’t simply drop the topic, “you mean like… slick?”

And god, fucking save him. The idiot hit the mark, assumed all the right things. Goddamnit, “it’s none of your business! Jesus. Now show me your work.”

His tries at deflection went unheard, and his nondescript answer was taken for a yes, “so you slicked up… during a rut.”

No longer could Katsuki prevent the flush threatening to overtake his face, “why does it matter? Let’s just do this stupid math question!”

His volume progressively grew, as if that would prevent the other from his prying, “so like... do you produce slick outside of a rut?”

“What the fuck?” He hadn't thought of that, maybe it was just a first rut type of thing that happened some alpha’s for some fucking weird-ass reason, “how the hell should I know?! I just got out of the damn rut!”

So he finally gave up, admitting to his best friend’s suspicions. And now he would drop the fucking topic, as if it were the most fascinating subject on the planet; whether or not Katsuki slicked up outside of a rut. This was a fucking mess. But it was on Kirishima’s mind. Kirishima was thinking about Katsuki slicking up. And if that wasn’t a turn-on, he didn’t know what was.

“Ah yeah, sorry dude.” He averted his eyes, staring down at the paper, and finally - much to a certain part of Katsuki’s disappointment - it appeared as if he were about to drop the subject and continue on with the math work, yet Kirishima’s sheepish mumbling implied quite the opposite, “did you want to find out?”

The blond’s eyes widened, suddenly he was very aware of his growing arousal and the tension between the two of them. Was this Shitty-Hair’s way of confessing? Was he offering to help the blond slick up ? Or was he just being stupid and legitimately curious? No, he couldn’t have been that much of an idiot, he had to know how he sounded.

“Kirishima…” Katsuki’s voice was deep and heavy with warning.

The redhead looked him in the eyes, “Katsuki.”

The use of the blond’s first name sent a shiver up his back - and that was it. He moved, pushing aside the school work to straddle the alpha, to get as close as he could, the redhead surging forward to take the other’s lips in a messy, violent kiss. Katsuki couldn’t ask for anything better. Kirishima's sharp teeth pulled at his bottom lip, god he wanted those on his neck, digging into the sensitive gland located there. And his scent, fuck , Katsuki was going to have it all over him. For the next fucking week he’d be left walking around covered in the alpha’s scent. It had a throaty groan falling from his lips, that ended in a higher-pitched whine as Kiri did just as the blond had hoped, mouth nipping and sucking at his throat. The rough hands feel up Katsuki’s body, tugging up his skin-tight tank to reveal his pecks to the cold air, and squeezing them.

The blond tossed his head back, letting his mouth hang open. He didn’t think that would feel so good. They were so. Fucking. Sensitive.

“Damn,” the redhead cursed, looking up at Bakugou in awe, fingers playing with the hardened nubs.

Katsuki ground down on him, feeling the hardness of cock through the shitty jeans he wore. Not that the blond’s state was any better, god, he was likely making a mess of his boxers already. Still, no slick.

Not until Shitty-Hair decided to put his teeth to a better use - that supposedly being his overly sensitive chest. It had Katsuki hissing as a nipple was taken into his warm mouth, as the alpha fucking destroyed his tanktop, the fabric no match for Kirishima’s quirk, falling in taters onto the floor.  

Only then did the blond notice the sticky feeling between his legs. For a second he wondered if he came. Though he was still hard, his knot only beginning to form. Instead, the sticky feeling came from between the cheeks that the redhead’s hands had come down to grope.

Well, it looked like he had just gotten the answer to their question. Yes, he could still slick up, and no it wasn’t just a one-time thing. Holy shit. He was slicking like some bitch.

With a little bit of a stretch, Eijirou could fuck him so easily. Eijirou would be his first time, hell, if he wanted he’d be the first to finger the blond - Katsuki would be satisfied with anything at this point.

“Ei, Ei-” Katsuki choked on the alpha’s first name, the red eyes from their spot at his chest peering at him questioningly, “Eijirou- Take off my fucking pants .”

Before he knew it, Katsuki was sprawled out underneath the redhead, who growled as he reached for his bottoms. The blond’s own instincts were beaming, because this alpha was strong enough for him. This alpha was strong and rough and everything he could ask for. They knew what they wanted. They wanted the best, and that was Bakugou, and they weren’t afraid to take him. Kiri wasn’t afraid to.

Kind, happy, idiot of an alpha Kirishima. Who looked like a fucking god as he tore off Katsuki’s pants and boxers in one go, the blond’s body pulled forward with the effort. And he let his legs fall open, his shiny, wet thighs on display. His arms stretched comfortably above him. His ego soaking in Kiri’s heated gaze. His sweet yet sharp scent filled the bedroom. Kirishima’s own scenting increased in response.

“Woah, Kat-” The blond blushed as a pair of Kiri’s fingers ran across his inner thighs, through the slick smeared along his skin, “you smell like an alpha but you slick up like an omega in heat.”

Katsuki scowled, kicking out at the other, “I told you, stupid, shitty- hnnnnnh.”

His voice trailed off into a surprised whine as the redhead hiked one of Katsuki’s legs up onto his shoulder, his tongue darting out to lick up the slick he had been so enraptured about.

“Shit!” The hothead didn’t think his thighs were so sensitive, just as sensitive as his fucking tits.

The redhead hiked his other leg up so that Katsuki’s ass was in the air, and he went to town, face buried between the blond’s thighs, tongue lapping up the sweet slick.

“Fuck!” He threw his head back ignoring the ache as it hit the floor, the alpha’s tongue had finally found the other’s hole, urging Katsuki’s body to produce more and more slick, devouring the stuff as if it were his last meal.

Katsuki was tempted to touch himself, his ignored dick swelled atop his abdomen, wetting his navel with pre-cum. He knew the second his fingers wrapped around the member he wouldn’t be able to resist knotting into his own fist. He wanted to feel the other's knot first. Would Kirishima knot him? He hoped so. If the redhead’s mouth was this good - the sharp teeth that teased his rim - Katsuki could only imagine how it’d feel with the alpha fucking into him.

The heat of his mouth was suddenly retracted, causing Bakugou to groan in disappointment. Though it was soon replaced by a rough pair of fingers, massaging the blond’s entrance.

“Think you can take them both at once?” Realistically, Katsuki doubted that, he hadn’t even experienced one finger in his ass, not to mention two. Even if he was slicking up like an omega, he was still technically a virgin.

But fuck it, as long as he didn’t blow his load the second those digits entered him, he’d be fine. He was certainly wet enough, “try me.”

The stretch burned, the pair of fingers pulling his hole apart as they entered. Katsuki was grateful for how slow Kiri was going, allowing him time to adjust, rubbing the sensitive walls of the blond’s insides. Just as sensitive as the rest of his body apparently. And getting over the initial burn, it felt weird, but not bad. Filling - and he didn’t even have a dick in him yet. He couldn’t help but clench on the invading fingers, trying to get used to the feeling of being so open. And as his body adjusted, the more slick he produced so that the redhead's fingers were moving freely, slipping in and out with less and less resistance as they went.

Soon enough the alpha was adding a third one, curling them up into an area that had Katsuki throwing his head back, reaching to dig his fingers into Kirishima's arm and crying out in surprise. His muscles fluttered around the digits, completely plient, practically pulling them in. It sure as hell didn’t take his body very long to fall into this role of taking it up the ass. Maybe that’s Bakugou’s fault for thinking about the stupid alpha’s knot so often. How far were they going to go? Kiri was going to try knotting him, yeah? The stupid alpha better. Else he got the blond alpha all loose for nothing.

“Can I fuck you Katsuki?” Eijirou asked as if reading his mind.

“Fuck yeah.” The blond pushed himself further onto the fingers buried in his ass.

“I don’t even need a lube,” he muttered as if he wasn’t knuckle deep in a sopping wet hole, “such a good alpha.”

Hell yes . Obviously, it made no logical sense seeing that alphas weren’t supposed to be slicking up and that's exactly what he was getting praised for, but in Katsuki’s fucked up mind that didn’t matter. He was a good alpha, able to provide for his partner- he felt fucking proud.

Shitty-Hair wasted no time tearing his own clothes off. His boxers were the last to go, and if the sizable bulge that sat against the thin fabric was anything to go off, Katsuki was in for a treat.

His cock was huge . An alpha’s cock, much bigger than Katsuki’s own, the knot had already started to swell at the base, precum beading at the tip of the hardened member, balls hanging heavy, full of cum. Cum that Katsuki wanted inside him . He was grateful the redhead decided to use three fingers, cause he sure as hell didn’t look like he wanted to waste any more time. Katsuki’s never seen Kiri like this before, so powerful . He could get used to it.

“Katsuki, I can’t hold back anymore. Can I?” His hands trailed up and down the blond’s thighs.

In reply, the red-eyed alpha did his best to further part his legs, allowing as much room as possible for the other, “I already told you, so don’t make me do all the work now, Ei .”

Not that he was against the idea of riding the redhead till dawn. Nor was Shitty-Hair by the contemplating look upon his face. But he snapped out of it as the blond reached up to wrap an arm around his neck. And then the hot member was bumping against his ass, sliding along his slickened hole. The red eyes glanced down, hand lining up his cock to the stretched hole. Katsuki’s body opened up perfectly for the alpha’s cock, twitching as it slid into the wet opening. It went so deep, it filled him up so well. Why hadn't he tried this before? Though even Eijirou’s fingers did feel weak compared to the real thing, would his own fingers just succeed in frustrating himself? Especially compared to the alpha’s cock as it came to rest against the blond’s prostate, setting his body on fire. It felt as if he were going to pass out from the amount of pleasure this was giving him. He had doubts that he’d be able to feel satisfied again, not without Kirishima’s cock.

Both alphas were moaning as they settled, “you good Kat?”

“Never been better.” He rolled his eyes at the shark-toothed grin sent his way, jolting as Kiri pulled his body back, hands leaving a strong grip around his waist. And he pushed back in, bottoming out once again, and again, and again as he repeated the action. The blond’s hands gripping and tugging at the stupid red hair, eyes rolling back at the brutal pace that was so suddenly set. The shameful squelching sound of the excess slick. The gurgles and unintelligent words that escaped the blond’s mouth.

Katsuki’s shaky hand came down to tug at his smaller dick, the knot already half-formed. Ejirou watched the movement with half-lidded eyes, only quickening his pace chasing after an orgasm. His right hand came up to grasp at the blond’s peck. His own knot was already catching on the abused rim whenever he rammed in or pulled out.

God, he felt so close. The way Ei played with his nipple, the way his member hit that spot so well.

“Come- come on… knot me Eijirou.” He demanded, legs wrapped tightly around the other’s hips in an attempt to keep him close, “knot me!”

“So good…” Kiri gaped, “so good alpha.”

Katsuki yelped as his orgasm hit, the redhead's hand quickly coming down to squeeze his knot, earning a low groan from the blond as cum spurt across his stomach. His hole twitched around the alpha’s cock, feeling the pulsing knot as it was shoved into him, stretching his rim, finally growing too big to pull out. Eijirou gave a few more swallowed thrusts into the oversensitive body before he released his own seed. The substance had nowhere to go as the knot swelled to full size, causing an uncomfortable bloated feeling in the blond’s abdomen.

Kiri rested his forehead against the blond’s chest, “Kat, I think you’re the manliest alpha that could ever exist.”

With a knot in his ass, a belly full of cum, his own cum drying on his stomach, the redhead’s hold on his knot, and slick sticking to his thighs; Katsuki felt like he should be offended. Instead, his mouth twitched upwards and he couldn’t help but let out a tired snot.

This slick thing wasn’t all that bad, he wouldn’t mind if it stayed. So the alpha found himself content with dozing away in the other alpha’s arms on the floor of his dorm room, sure to be sore tomorrow but who fucking cared. He got what he wanted.

[writingpaperghost]

There is a Me Who Can Become Strong (Chapter 6)

Chapter 6: A Hollow Beating in the Heart!

Saki's not acting herself today, but there's a Bugster to deal with so... They start hearing a bit more of this black Para-DX.

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/32857183/chapters/82387561

Emu stands outside of Masamune’s office in Gemn Corp, clutching the Gekitotsu Robots Gashat in his hand. He wants to return it, he does, but something about going in there and actually giving it to Masamune didn’t feel right. He’d thought about asking Saki or Asuna to do it, but he figured that it wouldn’t do him any good going out of his way to avoid Masamune. He was doing a lot to help the CR, right? So he shouldn’t feel so distrustful of a man he only met yesterday.

Standing outside, especially since anyone could walk by and see him, wasn’t going to do him much good. But somehow he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Still, he finally steeled himself and entered.

“Um, Mr. Dan?” He called, trying to his best to be polite. After yesterday, he was already hoping that Masamune didn’t have too negative of an opinion on him. Masamune was at his desk, typing away at his computer.

“Hojo,” There’s something in the way that Masamune says his name that feels wrong, “What brings you here?”

Holding out the Gashat, Emu answers, “I’ve come to return the Gekitotsu Robots Gashat that we retrieved yesterday.”

At that, Masamune looks up, “Oh, that’s not necessary.”

“What?”

“Keep it, so you can better fight the Bugsters,” He insists, “That’s a part of what they’re for, anyway.”

Looking at the Gashat in his hand, Emu doesn’t feel quite sure at taking Masamune at his word, “Are you sure?”

“Quite, it will do you more good than it will sitting around here.”

---

Mu and Graphite sit on the couch, Kuroto over at his desk across from them. It’s not clear what Kuroto was working on, but Mu was certain it would be fun and make people smile, like all of Kuroto’s games. Assuming he was working on a game and not a Gashat, of course. He thought that it was always really amazing watching Kuroto work on things, but he couldn’t see what Kuroto was working on from here. Normally, he’d get up and look, or ask, but he couldn’t move much right now.

Mostly because Graphite was situated in a manner that had him curled up on Mu’s legs, arms around him. For some reason, Graphite was oddly more clingy than normal, which was strange in and of itself, because Graphite wasn’t ordinarily what Mu would call clingy. Normally, Graphite only ever acted any way similar to this when… Mu was a little more out of it. But he wasn’t, he hadn’t been forced through… those things, that would make him out of it, since around the time he was started to be allowed to go out. So he wasn’t sure what had Graphite acting like this.

Of course, the most direct way would be to ask, and Mu was comfortable enough with him to do just that. “Graphite,” He began, “Is everything alright?”

“Why?” Graphite asks, raising his head up from its place on Mu’s shoulder, “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re clinging,” Kuroto notes, sounding terribly unimpressed. He glances up from his computer, “Did seeing Brave really shake you up that much?”

“It did not!” Graphite hissed back, gripping Mu tighter.

Mu was confused, though, “What do you mean by that?” He looks at Graphite, “Hey, what was up with Brave?”

After a moment of looking at Mu, Graphite buries his face in Mu’s shoulder again and mumbles, “She was my host’s fiancée.”

“Oh!” Mu cried, “That’s terrible! But was that really enough to make you… upset? Or did you get more of your host memories…?”

Graphite grumbles something.

Dryly, Kuroto says, “I don’t think even Mu can hear you,”

Repeating his words, but lifting his head so Mu can make them out, Graphite says, “It’s also seeing you fight Para-DX. You could have gotten hurt, especially when Para-DX reached Level 3.”

“Oh…” Mu said, “Well, I was fine. He’s pretty strong like that, but it turned out okay.” He reaches his arms out and wraps them around Graphite in a hug, “Besides, if something did seem like it would have happened, then you would have come to help, right?”

“Of course,” Graphite huffed, “As if I would let any of those Riders harm you.”

“So it’s all okay!” Mu chirps, then looks over at Kuroto, “Which reminds me, I’m going to keep using those Gashats.”

The look that Kuroto gives him is enough to know that he’s not happy about that statement, “No.” He says, “It’s dangerous.”

“You’re still recovering from using the Proto Gashat,” Mu counters, “It’s too dangerous for you to keep using it. I’ll be fine, at least until you can find a good solution.”

Kuroto stares at him, then sighs, “Fine, fine, you have a point.”

Mu smiles at him, doing his best to be reassuring, prompting Graphite to snort, “Don’t force it, Kin,” He finally loosens his grasp on Mu, “You look too uncomfortable like that.”

Dropping the attempt at a smile, Mu frowns slightly, “Right,” He sighs, “So are you going to let go of me anytime soon?”

“No.”

“Silly dragon,” Mu sighs, “You’ll have to let go eventually.”

“But not yet.”

---

Alongside Asuna, Emu searches for the person that the Bugster with the Gekitotsu Robots Gashat had been looking for the day before. They’d return to the college of music, hoping to find him.

After a while, Emu abruptly asks, “Why do you think Kiriya lied about that Bugster, uh, Graphite, being the black Para-DX?” Because they all knew that was a lie. He’d said he’d seen Graphite become the black Para-DX. Emu might have considered asking Kiriya himself, but he was still in the hospital and unconscious. Nico carried him back the day before, much to everyone’s surprise. She said she’d had help, but no one saw whoever it was.

Asuna replied, “I don’t know. I doubt he knew that Graphite was a Bugster but…” She shrugged, “I can’t say why he’d lies like that. I guess he just does that sometimes.” That felt far too simple for Emu’s liking, but he didn’t think he’d get a better answer. At least, not from Asuna.

They’re attention is drawn to a pair, “Ah, Yoko, I won’t be so busy soon enough!” The man cried.

The woman, Yoko, just looked at him sadly, “No, no, Seiichi, I think we just…” She trails off and takes a deep breath, “Need some time apart.”

“I see,” The man, Seiichi sighs, “If you say so…” Then, sadly, he walks off.

Watching him leave, Yoko falls to her knees. Some part of Emu thinks that it’s a bit melodramatic, but then he sees her keep falling. Then glitching. Grabbing the Gamer Scope from his neck, Emu rushes over to her. The screen told him what he already knew.

“Game Disease,” He said, though he didn’t imagine Asuna needed telling. The only strange thing was that it was showing two strains. The Gekitotsu Robots strain, and the DoReMiFa Beat strain.

It was about then that Saki arrived. She seemed a bit… out of it, but based on what he’d been told yesterday, it wasn’t too surprising. “I see we have a patient,” She says. She seems a bit distant.

“Saki,” Asuna says, looking at her with concern, “I didn’t think you’d work today.”

“Bugsters,” She says the word with far more venom than normal, “Don’t stop for anyone.”

There was a lot to unpack there. Unfortunately, like many times of important or possibly important information, Emu was forced to file it away for later review. Right now, they had a patient to focus on.

“Miss,” He called, “Can you hear me,”

“It… doesn’t matter,” She says, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Miss-“ Before he can say anything else, a Bugster appears from her. This one has two arms connected to some kind of tail. Given how Saki’s been, both yesterday and now today, Emu was hesitant to ask Saki to deal with it, at least on her own… But he didn’t have access to Level 1 and Nico was nowhere to be seen. Kiriya as still unconscious in the hospital, so he couldn’t help even if Saki would accept it, which he imagines she wouldn’t.

So he had no choice but to trust that Saki would be fine on her own. Unfortunately, he didn’t think that would be the case.

Taddle Quest!

“Let’s hurry this along,” Saki says, sounding none to happy to be there. Emu winces.

Let’s game! Metcha game! Mucha game! What’s your name? I’m a Kamen Rider!

Standing in Level 1, staring down the Bugster, Saki takes her sword in hand. She switches it to fire, only for the fire to cover her entirely. Emu startles, but holds himself still. Clearly she meant to do that. Obviously. Then Saki begins to the attack the Bugster, repeatedly hitting the Bugster. Finally, it’s destroyed, Saki catching Yoko as the Bugster fully separated from her. With the Bugster, it was another Bugster like the one from yesterday, again with a Gashat in its forehead.

“We Bugsters,” A voice begins and everyone turns their attention to Graphite, who’s appeared in his human form, “Have our own goals. My goals, though, are not the same as theirs.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emu asked, “You’ve managed not to tell us anyone’s goals.”

Graphite shakes his head, “Don’t worry about that, just know,” He points at Yoko, “I’ve infected her with both of the strains for those purposes.”

Saki sets Yoko down and turns her attention between Graphite and the Bugster. She seems conflicted. Emu decides that he’ll let her figure that out, instead taking out his Gashat.

Mighty Action X!

Level Up! Mighty Jump! Mighty Kick! Mighty-Mighty Action X!

He was going to focus on the Bugster. Whatever exactly was between Saki and Graphite wasn’t his business. He needed to make sure their patient would be okay.

After a moment of deliberation, Saki finally lands her attention on the Bugster. Emu’s thankful, not that he says anything. Before they can do much the Bugster throws an attack at them.

“DoReMiFa Beat is a dancing game,” Asuna reminds them.

That alone was enough prompt, as the music notes came towards them. Emu’s able to hit each note perfectly, though Saki’s another story. She truly seems like she’s trying to hit the notes, but every time she’s just the slightest bit off. This results in her taking a bunch of damage, while Emu took none.

Emu hoped that Graphite wouldn’t choose to intervene at any point…

“Hey, dragon dude!” Nico appears, already in Level 2, aiming her gun at Graphite, “Don’t think I’m not still annoyed about yesterday!”

Graphite scoffs, but assumes his Bugster form either way.

Annoyed at the damage from the Bugster, if nothing else, Saki is nearly trembling as she flips the lever on her Gamer Driver.

Level Up! Taddle meguru! Taddle meguru! Taddle Quest!

Emu decides that he’ll need to step it up too, taking out the Gekitotsu Robots Gashat.

Gekitotsu Robots!

Buttobase! Totsugeki! Gekitotsu punch! Gekitotsu Robots!

Graphite turns his attention to Saki, “I have a few feelings to sort out, Brave,” He says, giving his weapon a few experimental swings, “I hope you can help with that.”

Leveling her sword at him, Saki harshly responds, “Gladly.”

The other Bugster focuses on Emu and Nico, much to Nico’s annoyance. “Why is the dragon so focused on her?” She wonders, dodging the Bugster.

“I think it’s personal,” Emu answers.

None of their fighting does much. The Bugster lands a hard hit on Nico, knocking her transformation out. Saki doesn’t fair much better against Graphite. Whether it’s that he’s just that strong or whatever is really between him and Saki, he’s easily able to knock her transformation out too.

Emu was half ready to try to take on both Bugsters at once, but then the black Para-DX appears. There’s definitely something off about him that Emu can’t place, but he also doesn’t have time to focus on that.

“Graphite,” The black Para-DX said, same voice as before, “You get the Bugster and get going.”

Oddly, Graphite seems hesitant, “Are you certain…?”

The smile when the black Rider responds is almost visible, “Well, I think I can handle Para-DX… After all, his friends aren’t in any position to fight.” There’s a threat there and Emu isn’t entirely sure whether or not the black Para-DX will follow through.

“Then we’re gone,” Graphite grabs the Bugster and the two disappear.

Tension rises as Emu watched the black Rider. He’s not really sure what he’s going to do, but Emu knew he had to be careful, with Nico and Saki around. He couldn’t trust the black Para-DX not to attack them.

The black Para-DX shrugs, “I don’t know about you, Para-DX… but I- I don’t really want to fight,” He gestures to Nico and Saki, “So why don’t you get your friends somewhere safer?”

Unfortunately, Emu thinks he’s going to have to take the black Rider up on that offer.

---

“Seriously,” Emu says, staring at Saki, who’s sitting at the table in the CR, a slice of cake in front of her, “What is up with you? You’re acting really off.”

Taking another bite of cake, Saki takes her time answering, “I am not acting ‘off’.”

Emu blinks, “Yes, you are. You’re not normally so aggressive. Is it Graphite? Or something else?” He casually leans against one of the chairs, “Poppy wouldn’t tell me much, last night. But if it’s going to effect how you deal with Bugsters, than I think I, as your teammate, have a right to know.”

It looked for a moment like Saki was going to protest, but finally she sighed and set her fork down, “Six years ago, my fiancé died,” She said and Emu hadn’t exactly expected that as what she’d open with, “He’d been infected with Graphite’s strain of Game Disease. Taiga was his doctor, and…” She shakes her head. He thinks that she means the man who was supposed to be Snipe when she says Taiga. “He’d been working to help people injured when he was somehow infected. He hadn’t wanted to tell me, because he knew I would worry and he hadn’t thought he was deserving of that worry. He’d been very distant, he always had been. Hiro was… reserved and it had frustrated me. But when I’d found out what happened, when I finally got Haima to tell me…”

Saki takes a deep breath, “I guess being faced with death was enough for him to really feel the need to get his feelings out. He expressed so much to me that day, I knew for certain afterwards that I truly loved him and he truly loved me, even if he hadn’t been the best at expressing it. But he knew he wouldn’t survive and I knew the chances were slim. I’d fallen asleep at his bedside that night. When I woke up… he was gone. Almost like he was never there at all, no body, just an empty bed. Taiga and Haima came in after they heard me scream, apparently. They didn’t need me to explain what had happened. Haima… was his father. He looked so devastated.” She’s not looking at him anymore. She’s looking down, at her lap, “That day, I swore to become the best surgeon I could, for Hiro. So that no one had to lose their loved ones. So no one would have to go through what Haima and I had gone through that morning.”

“Now,” Emu realized, “You’re faced not just with someone with his face, but also the one who was responsible for his death.”

“And on the anniversary of it, to boot,” Saki shakes slightly. Emu’s not sure he’s ever seen her quite so emotional. Not like this. “So… pardon me if I’m not myself. It’s… hard, even six years later.”

“Of… course,” He assured, “I’m not going to… hold it against you.” How could he? He understood the feeling far too well. Just around four months ago, on the anniversary of it, he shut himself away and broke down crying, realizing just how close he was to achieving Emu’s dream.

He realizes, belatedly, that she’s crying, now. It’s quiet, that’s why it took him so long to notice, but it’s there. He’s not really sure what to say. He wants to try to say something reassuring, but he’s not really sure what. He’d dealt with his grief alone. He supposes Saki probably at least shared it with the director.

“I’ll…” He began, “I’m going to go talk to the patient.” He just needed to get out of there, before he said or did something stupid. He felt bad about just leaving Saki like that, but he honestly wasn’t sure what he should do. He wanted to help, but…

Ugh, he hated feeling helpless like that.

Well he might as well go and actually talk to Yoko, like he said he would. He recalls Asuna’s conversation with her earlier, when Yoko had first arrived at the CR. According to Asuna, Yoko hadn’t wanted her now former boyfriend to know that she was sick. Which might have made sense, if they hadn’t literally just broken up that day. Obviously he cared and would want to know about it, so why hadn’t she wanted him to know?

Not to mention how her Game Disease only flared up while she was watching him leave. Even though she was the one to say they needed to be apart, she was getting stressed by it. Which, while Emu certainly wasn’t an expert on relationships – as in he knew very little – he didn’t think would be normal.

Entering the patient’s room, he hesitates for a moment. He’s not entirely sure he’s the best suited for this… Then he shakes his head, no, he had to do what he could. Saki certainly wasn’t in the position to, and Asuna had already tried as much as she probably could.

“Ms. Horiuchi?” Emu called, catching her attention. He begins to walk over, “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Oh, what is it?” She asks, “Is something wrong?”

He smiles, “No, nothing really. I was just wondering…” He pauses, taking a deep breath. This is definitely not his strong suit, but he’d just have to treat it a bit like with Alhambra. Engaged couple breaking up is sort of like a couple just. Breaking up normally. Close enough. “Nurse Asuna mentioned that you specifically didn’t want us to inform your boyfriend – or is it former boyfriend? – well him, that you were sick. Is there a reason why?”

She hesitates, before answering, “Oh, no real reason…” Emu hopes the look his gives her is enough to show that he doesn’t really believe that. “Well, if he knew I was sick, Seiichi would drop everything to come be with me. But he’s working so hard to try to get into the orchestra, I don’t want to distract him from that.”

Somehow, that sounded a bit familiar. Not exact, but he wondered if Graphite chose Yoko on purpose, or if it was just coincidence. He really didn’t know what the Bugsters were after, and Graphite had declared his goals were not the same as other Bugsters. Still, it seemed that he’d found the source of her stress.

“If he’s worried about you,” Emu begins, “Then shouldn’t he know?”

“He’ll worry more,” She sighs, “He’s so dedicated and I’m just trying to keep him from getting distracted.”

Emu wasn’t sure how well that would work, but he also wasn’t really sure what else to say. Matters of the heart were a complicated thing for someone who’s had no romantic relationships and limited skills with people in general. Children were easy, adults were not.

“And if you die?” Emu’s startled to hear Saki, standing in the doorway. She seems to have recovered from earlier rather well, but Emu wasn’t really sure what people usually looked like after those sort of things anyway. Regardless, she did not look like someone who’d just been crying less than ten minutes ago. “He’d be heartbroken to find out you were sick and he never even knew.”

Yoko looked down at her lap. “I just don’t want him to get hurt,”

Then, Emu came to a realization, “If the Bugster attacked Seiichi, it would stress you.” He stands up and looks at Saki, “Saki, we need to find him.”

Saki purses her lips before responded, “Yes, we do.”

---

It didn’t take long to find Seiichi, and predictably, the Bugster was there too. And alongside the Bugster was Graphite, watching from afar. Emu can see Saki tense when she sees him.

Pulling out the Mighty Action X and Gekitotsu Robots Gashat, Emu tells her, “Focus on the Bugster,” When it looks like Saki’s about to protest, he adds, “I’ll keep Graphite from interfering.”

“Intern,”

“No, Saki,” He insists, “Focus on getting the Gashat so you’ll be stronger. As it is you don’t stand a chance. I might be able to at least hold him off.”

She still looks like she wants to protest, but at last pulls out the Taddle Quest Gashat and her Gamer Driver, “Fine, but only because you bring up a valid point.”

Both transforming, they set their sights on the Bugsters they’re ready to fight. Hopefully Emu’s Level 3 might be enough to stand against Graphite, at least for a bit. Immediately swinging at Graphite, he gets blocked by the Bugster’s weapon. Then thrown back a bit. Okay, this might be a bit harder than he thought it would be. Or rather, he could understand why Graphite was able to shove away Saki and Nico so easily.

Saki changes the stage that they are on to a forest and begins to fight the Bugster. Because the Bugster attack rhythmically, it quickly became easy enough for her to dodge the attacks. She’s able to counter with a few of her own before her opening arrives. With her sword in ice mode, she inserts her Gashat.

Taddle Critical Finish!

Slashing at the Bugster, it’s quickly destroyed and Saki now has the DoReMiFa Beat Gashat in hand.

Game Clear!

As Emu attempts to block one of Graphite’s attacks, only for it to knock him back and out of his transformation, Saki activates the Gashat.

DoReMiFa Beat!

Do-Do-DoReMiFa-So-La-Ti-Do! Ok! DoReMiFa Beat!

She dodges out of the way of Graphite’s attacks, countering with her own, each in the beat that the Gashat had begun to play. Though it clearly wasn’t doing much more damage than Emu had been, if more at all, it was still enough to push Graphite back. Finally, Saki takes the Gashat and inserts it into her sword, now in fire mode.

DoReMiFa Critical Finish!

The attack, despite landing clear on Graphite, doesn’t seem to do much. Still, he staggers back a bit. “Brave,” He says, “I doubt this will be the last we see of each other. Don’t think you’ve beat me yet!” And then, Graphite’s gone, just like before.

---

Watching through the window in the CR into the observation room, Emu and Asuna see that Yoko and Seiichi are reconnecting. Yoko seemed to have explained her thought process while Seiichi simply seemed relieved.

“Well that went pretty well,” Emu says, wondering if the two had sorted out everything. They couldn’t really hear the pair. He looks around, noticing that only he and Asuna were in the room, “Where’s Saki?”

“Oh,” Asuna responds, “She had somethings she wanted to do. Don’t worry, I think she’ll be fine.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Emu decides to take her at her word, “If you say so,”

---

“Haima?” Saki calls, entering Haima’s office. He’s at his desk, the only place he is when he’s at the hospital and not out and about or at the CR. She knew she’d find him here. In her hands, she holds a box with a cake inside.

“Oh, Saki,” Haima looks up from his work. He smiles at her, “How have you been?”

She laughs a little, like he doesn’t see her daily, “I’ve been okay. You know how today always is.”

His smile falls a bit, “Yes, it doesn’t seem to get much easier,” He regards her for a moment, “You had a Bugster today, too.”

Choosing not to respond to the last part, she holds up the box, “I brought cake,” She said, “This is the one that Hiro always liked.”

“Of course, I guess you haven’t been here the past few years,” Haima moves aside some papers, “I always make sure to put a piece out for him,”

“Yes…” Saki says sadly, “But now we’re able to save people. So no one else has to leave out a piece of cake for their loved one.”

“And you’re all doing a great job,”

---

“I wonder what mo – Kujo, said to that black Para-DX to get him so beat up, yesterday,” Nico wonders from her perch on a hospital bed in Taiga’s clinic. “I mean, that was pretty bad.”

Taiga sighs, “I don’t know, Kujo’s always been sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong,” He shuffles some papers then takes a moment, looking at the room that Nico had commandeered. “I’m really not getting you out of here, am I?”

“You want my help?” Nico stretches, wincing slightly, “Then you let me stay here. It’s cheaper than a hotel.”

“You have plenty of money,”

“That’s not the point, old man.”

“I’m not old,”

---

“Graphite?” Mu asks, looking up from the game he’s playing. Previously, one could hear the sounds of DoReMiFa Beat and some cheerful pop song playing. “Why does Brave want to fight you so badly. Your host was her fiancée, yeah, but…”

Over in the corner, Graphite is adjusting some pillows and blankets on a mattress, forming what Kuroto has more than once referred to as a nest. Mu watches warily, hoping not to get dragged in, because then Graphite would make him sleep again. “Because she’s hurt,” Graphite answers, “And she blames me for his death. It’s easier for her to blame me and for her to take it out on me, in hope that it might do something to lessen her pain.”

Mu frowns, “Does she really think that’ll work?”

“Do you?”

He doesn’t answer.

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

When tough times occur with:

This is my last fanfiction as I start my vacation. I wrote this for someone who needs to hear (in this case read) some words of encouragement. Life itself can be a pain and with its oblsicates, it can seem impossible to overcome it but that’s what makes us stronger as people.

This is for you. Enjoy!

Victor Creed

Victor isn’t really the type to express his emotions for the better but when you are having some challenges he is there to help, he will drop everything he is doing or will be doing in the future.

A blood vicious mission he wants to go? Canceled.

Having a beer with his brother? Heck no.

Going for a drive on his Harley Davidson? That fucker will wait.

Victor isn’t the best with compassion but he is willing to stop everything in his life just to be there for you and give you all the help you need. 

‘Come on, kitten, it’s time to show your ferocity.’

Loki Laufeyson:

Loki completely understands the unfairness in life so with that being said if something happens in your life he will be there to give tell you one of his stories about his obstacles and how he has overcome them. If he sees an opportunity to be of any help he will give his 200% to defeat the ‘battle’. 

‘I’m here... I know it’s hard but I need you to overcome this like the hero I know you are.’

Thor Odinson:

Thor sometimes doesn’t understand how life on Earth is since he is a God and a prince in Asgard so with him it’s really hard to see you sad and down. If that happens he will try to make you laugh by telling his stories while he ‘acts’ out the tale by himself. It does make you laugh and by the end of it Thor thinks that he did it that by making you smile you overcame your challenge but as you explained him your troubles carefully he will listen carefully and takes your hand into his saying

‘I’m sorry that life throws at you this sort of challenge but I know for certain that you will overcome it and I will be here with you.’

Steve Rogers: 

For Steve, he can practically tell by your expression that something isn’t going well but he won’t just stand there and be quiet, no sir. Steve will walk to you rubbing your shoulder as you tell him about your ‘thing’. And as you finish he will kiss your forehead and wipe your tears away saying slowly and surely

‘I know it’s hard and tough but you are a fighter and there is no one that can fight this as well as you, Y/n.’

Bucky Barnes:

With Bucky, you don’t really need to tell him what0s going on because thanks to his intuition he helps you in seconds he just waltzes next to you and gives you a tight hug telling you ‘It’s alright.’ After you explain it to him he does everything to help you solve it fast as possible pushing himself to his limit. I mean... he IS Bucky, the Winter Soldier, a.k.a. the stubbornest person you ever met. And he won’t give up because his one and only goal is to see you smile happily again.

‘Come on, doll, we’ll survive this together.’

Bruce Wayne:

Dating a billionaire it has perks of course at the financial spectra helping you with every debt, business venture he is here. But on the emotional side, he is kinda flimsy about it. So when it happens he will shy away from you just because he knows that this kind of problem money can’t solve. After some persuasion from Alfred, Bruce is just your shoulder to cry on. It breaks him to see you like this but he knows that if anything will help you it’s his consistent support. Bruce will hug you, kiss you and even hold your napkin while you blow your nose (I know such commitment) and he will encourage you to overcome your issue promising you to take you away from this ordeal when it finishes.

‘Just a little more Y/n I know it's hard but you can do it.’

Clark Kent:

He IS the definition of a soft boy, Clark will help you with literally anything you need if you don’t feel well or weak to take on a task. Clark will call off any arrangement he has with the Justice League taking the first-ever vacation. He will be there for you to have someone to vent to and hear his opinion on it. But every single time it will end with him saying

‘I know this will sound crazy but I think that everything happening in your life the good and the bad it’s just a means to make you stronger.’

Joker:

With J it’s straight forward no doubt about it. He despises seeing you sad and weak, he simply does. He won’t ask you what’s wrong but he will grunt and huff for days straight giving you a nod to say your issue. So when you tell him your problem he will kiss your knuckles saying 

‘I will take care of the problem you just tell me how to solve it.’

Arthur Curry:

Arthur hates to solve problems in his life but the second you cry to him about your own he isn’t the Aquaman he turns to Artur Private Investigator, he won’t rest until he solves your case and hands you a satisfying answer. Arthur becomes a different person just by how hard he tries to help you. 

‘Don’t worry babe, I will solve this you just take a seat and watch some of the shows you like.’

Orm Marius:

This dude is also a prince so with that being said he is clueless when life hits you in the face he doesn’t understand it. Meaning he will only depict that something is wrong when you break down in tears in front of him. The second that happens he will jump to your rescue and ask what’s wrong. After the explanation, he yells a little at you for not telling him sooner about it. 

‘You are the most important in my life and seeing you sad it breaks my heart so please when something like this happens again, tell me.’

Duncan Vizla:

Duncan will dish it out like it is. Which hurts a little but he says the things you need to hear. He won’t tiptoe around it he knows by saying something you don't like to hear you will be saddened by him but after a while, it will give you a new perspective on it. 

‘That’s how sadly life works but I’m with you until my last breath. You are not alone.’

[sukarabia]

Cater x Mary-Ann - Birthday Present

Disclaimer: a little something I wrote in a rush for Cater’s bday, but happy birthday bby and thank you so much for coming home so quickly <3 + sereia is Kirs’ OC, not mine ~

“.. Haaa... finally, this is over... ugh, that teacher just wouldn’t stop rambling, I couldn’t focus on my quest..” Idia sighed as he exited the classroom. “Can’t believe I got forced to attend... Well, time to go home, and-”

“Idiacchi!!!”

“... Huh?” Idia stopped in his track. “N-no... that can’t be...”

“Ah, I got so scared I wouldn’t make it in time ~” As he prepared to rush towards the exit, Idia felt a hand grasp his shoulder. N-Not again... he thought as he turned around.

“... Mary-Ann-shi, I am busy with something today, so I cannot help with the class content. If you-”

“You got it all wrong Idiacchi, I’m not here to ask for a cramming class- although...” Mary-Ann saw Idia’s disheartened face, and waved her hands. “I mean it!! I’m here to ask for another favour.”

“A favour...? This sucks... The quest ends in 10 hours, so I don’t have time to waste-”

“Please!!!” Mary-Ann bowed, clasping her hands together. “I promise I’ll login daily on any game you want to send you login bonuses ‘n stuff!!!” She looked up to see Idia’s expression. Perfect, she thought. He baited. “I’m here because I need your help with online shopping.”

Idia took a few seconds to process what his classmate had just told him. Online shopping...? Not that he cared, but Mary-Ann seemed like the type who’d spend her spare time browsing online for fashion items, or whatever stuff those extroverts do- why would she ask him of all people for help?

“... Mary-Ann-shi, I’m not sure why you’re even asking me... I doubt we shop for similar items, you know.”

“I’m not asking you for recommendations ~ but for websites. You see...” Mary-Ann’s shoulders suddenly dropped as she let out a sigh. “... It’s Catercchi’s birthday in a few day, and I’m really struggling finding stuff for him.”

“... Cater? Aah, why are you even asking me this... Aren’t you both the extrovert duo? Wouldn’t you know better than I do? You’re wasting my time here...”

“.. Well, that’s the thing. I should, but...” For a split second, Idia thought he saw a glimpse of sadness in his classmate’s eyes. What a weirdo... “.. But no matter how hard I think, I can’t think of anything- and we’ve been friends for 3 years now, I don’t wanna get him some impersonal gift, y’know! Would you happen to know any websites with a wide range of choice?”

“W-What? Ah, I do, but... Well, I’ll just send them to you by text.. Here you go.”

--

“... Mary-Ann-san, could you please stop sighing.”

“But Sereiacchi, I just can’t find anything ~”

“Regardless, we’re in a library, so would you please keep quiet.”

Sereia sighed as she closed her book. From what she understood, Mary-Ann was present browsing for Cater after pestering Idia about online shopping websites, but judging from her friend’s expression, it wasn’t going well. For the past hour, Mary-Ann kept sighing and mumbling about how none of this was what she was looking for.

“How come you’re so lost about this?”

“Huh?” Mary-Ann looked up from her phone, startled.

“I mean, Idia-san is right. You two do spend a lot of time together, after all. As friends, shouldn’t you know what to get him?”

“Well, that’s the thing...” Mary-Ann rested her chin on her hand, looking far into the distance with a pensive expression. “... Y’know, Sereiacchi, I think Catercchi and you are more similar than you’d think.”

“And why is that?”

“... Dunno. You guys might act a certain way but sometimes... I don’t know. Sometimes, it feels like you’re both rea~lly sad inside... or something? Ugh.” Mary-Ann suddenly banged her head on the table, startling Sereia. “I hate this... I’m not good at perceiving things, or understanding how people think... But I have this feeling that if I get Catercchi something he talked about, like this new popular jacket ~ or this trendy bracelet ~ it wouldn’t be what he truly wants...”

“... You’re more perceptive that you give yourself credit for, Mary-Ann-san.” Sereia whispered, closing her book.

“Huh? Did ya say anything?”

“... No, not at all. But if he told you that he wanted something, why don’t you get him that? It would avoid wasting your time browsing online when we have a test tomorrow.”

“... Aaah, that sucks, I completely forgot about the test tomorrow... ugh, what am I gonna do...”

Mary-Ann returned to her phone, browsing with a worried expression. What would he even want... She had asked Trey about it earlier, but her childhood friend just replied that instead of getting him a gift, they should cook him some of his favourite foods. Which she agreed with- but hearing Trey talk about that made the uneasy feeling inside her swell even bigger. For two years, she kept dragging Cater to her favourite bakery to try out the cakes together. She thought he liked them too, as he kept snapping pictures, and assumed that he would never finish them simply because he didn’t have much of an appetite. But when Trey told her that it was most probably because he just didn’t like sweets, she felt incredibly guilty about it. If only I was more perceptive like Trey... It might be dumb, but she really wanted to redeem herself with that gift- to prove to Cater, and to herself, that she could be considerate, too.

--

“.. Oya, Mary-Ann. What brings you here?”

“Liliacchi...”

“Oh? Why the long face?” Lilia’s eye widened at the sight of Mary-Ann walking into Diasomnia, eyes surrounded by very dark eyebags. “Did you not get much sleep because of today’s test?”

“Nah, wish I took my education that seriously to begin with.” She sighed as she plopped to the seat in front of Lilia.

“Then, is it perhaps some internal trouble at Heartslabyul?”

“... Well, you could say that, kinda. It’s about..”

--

“... Oh, I see. You’re worried about getting a gift that wouldn’t make Cater happy, yes?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Mary-Ann threw her head back, closing her eyes. “It’s like... He did tell me what he wanted, but... Kinda felt like he didn’t mean it, y’know? And, I don’t know...”

“.. Yes?”

“... I kinda feel like I haven’t done enough for him... As a friend? I’m not as dependable as Trey, neither am I as smart as Riddlecchi, but just this once...” Her voice trailed off as she opened her eye, glaring at the light above her. “... Just this once, I wanna do something for him, too.”

“... Oh-oh, it seems like there is a misunderstanding here.”

“Huh?” Mary-Ann jerked back into a seated position, looking at Lilia with a startled expression.

“The fact that you are worrying about this in the first place shows that you are dependable as a friend, doesn’t it? Not a lot of people would..” He gestured to the young girl’s eyebags with a chuckle. “... Obviously stay up all night just to find a gift. That, too, is your strength as a friend.”

“... Mmh, I suppose you’re right.” For the first time in a while, Mary-Ann felt a smile creep up to her lips. “But no matter the intention, it won’t do any good if I can’t find something in time...”

“I see. So you thought, coming here, that I would have a more precise idea about a present that would make him happy, correct?”

“Yeah, exactly. Dunno, you guys spend a lot of time together in music club, sooo...”

“.. Well, I am sorry to disappoint, but I don’t.” Mary-Ann sighed for the umpteenth time today. Why was this so hard... “... However, I may have advice for you.”

“Huh? Advice? Well, any kind of help is welcome, at this point...”

“Ahah, very well. I like your fighting spirit. Well then. You worry about not being dependable like Trey, or smart like Riddle- in short, you worry about taking things at face value, and not being perceptive enough, am I correct?” Mary-Ann nodded. “That, too, can be a strength in its own right. In your three years of friendship, has there been any time that made you realise that Cater might not be honest, despite you not being aware of things that easily?”

“Well... Yeah, you’re right, there were a handful of times like that.”

“Very well, then. Please think about those times as precious- because that means that what he had hidden was so painful that it shone through even to someone as oblivious as you. I assume you see where I am getting at? If there is anything that could have made those times less excruciating for him...”

“... Yeah, got it.” Mary-Ann got up, a confident expression on her face. “Thanks, Liliacchi. I think I finally have an idea!”

“Well, I’m glad to have been of help.” How troublesome these humans are... he thought as he smiled at her.

--

“Waaah, you guys prepared everything for me? Yay ~ I’m so happy, thank you everyone!”

“You’re welcome. Trey and Mary-Ann insisted that you have ramen instead of cake, which breaks the Queen of Hearts’ rule to only have cakes for birthdays, but I’ll let it slide just for this once.”

“Ahah, Riddle, as serious as ever...” Trey let out a small chuckle as he placed the ramen in front of Cater. “Cater, please dig in, it’s going to get cold.”

“Alright, I will ~ Huh? Mary-Ann-chan, what’s up? Whatcha looking all worried about?”

“A-Ah, nah, it’s nothing ~” Mar-Ann faked a smile, ushering Cater to eat. “Just, when you’re done, err... Could you come with me to the courtyard real quick?”

“Oh, sure, sure ~ Well then. Let me snap a pic... and... done! Happy bday to me ~”

--

“So, what did ya want? ~”

Cater and Mary-Ann strolled through the Heartslabyul gardens, as the blonde hid a small packet behind her back, nervously playing with her hair with her spare hand. Pretending not to notice, Cater marvelled about how the garden looked especially pretty during his birthday. They walked side by side for a while, with just Cater’s occasional interjections to occupy the suffocating silence. ... I gotta do this. Mary-Ann took a deep breath as she stopped in her tracks. Confused, Cater turned around, expecting her to say something.

“... What’s this, what’s this? Nee, Mary-Ann-chan, are you confessing to me? ~” Cater’s voice sounded confident, but there was just a falter of nervousness betraying his own state of mind. ... Did she notice?

“Don’t be stupid, Catercchi.” Thankfully for her friend, Mary-Ann was way too preoccupied by her own nervousness to realise what just happened. “... Well, y’know, it’s your birthday and all, so I thought I’d get you something, but...”

“... But?” Dusk was just setting as a gulf of wind brushed by Cater’s cheek.

“... Dunno, when you told me about what you wanted, it just... Kinda... Didn’t feel right?” Cater remained silent, waiting for her to continue. “... Like you were... forcing yourself to come up with something? Aah, this sucks, I can’t explain this properly...” Frustrated, Mary-Ann ran a hand through her hair. “... Well, my point is, sometimes, it feels like you’re... Not honest with yourself? And I had this impression that that jacket you asked for wouldn’t really make you happy, yknow... But I’m not like Trey or Riddlecchi, and I couldn’t come up with anything worthwhile because, I like, really suck at figuring people’s thoughts....”

She took a step closer to Cater, who just stood there in silence, surprised. He knew Mary-Ann was dense- in all senses of the term, so he was definitely not expecting her to notice that he had just said whatever as a present idea. Not knowing what to expect, he waited for his friend to continue.

“.... But I thought long and hard about something that would, you know, truly make you happy. And, I, uh... kinda came up with this... It definitely isn’t anything big, and it might not even mean anything to you, but....”

She handed a small red packet to Cater, slightly blushing as she adverted her eyes. Her hands were slightly trembling as he took the present from her hands. Slowly, he began unwrapping it- only to be met with a small silver keychain with a bright blue gem at the end of it. Confused, he looked up to meet her eyes. Not that it was ugly- quite the opposite actually, it was definitely his style, but..

“.. Ah! Maybe I should explain what it is... Ugh, sorry.” Mary-Ann sighed. “D’you remember, during the Stargazer festival? When Trey and I came to your room to ask for your wish, you wished to enjoy your school life and stuff, right?” Cater nodded. “Well, I kinda felt like... You were hiding your true wish, for some reason? And I’m definitely not perceptive enough to know why, so... I just thought I’d give you another chance at it.”

“Another... Chance?”

“Uh-uh. That keychain is a replica of a wishing star. It’s kinda not a magic stone, more like a good-luck charm, but...” She looked up to meet Cater’s eyes. The setting dusk made his emerald eyes stand out even more, as she nervously twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “.... I wondered if, maybe, this time, you could wish for what you truly wanted... without us knowing.”

Cater remained speechless for a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Mary-Ann. Ugh, I knew it, he doesn’t like it. Maybe I should have just asked Kalim-

All of a sudden, she felt Cater’s arms surrounding her, as he pulled her into a tight hug. She was used to his displays of affection, and it definitely wasn’t the first time they hugged, but for some reason, this time... It felt different. Not knowing how to react, Mary-Ann remained still, nervously waiting for Cater to say something.

“.... Thank you, Mary-Ann. I’ll treasure it.”

Mary-Ann smiled, humming a small “It’s nothing” as she returned her friend’s embrace. But while she rested her forehead on his shoulder, what she couldn’t see was her friend’s moist eyes, as he fought to hold back tears- and how red his cheeks were as his hands slightly trembled.

[justanotherdumpingground]

Rant on RCD

Normally I don't rant about stuff because doing so feeds negativity, but Red Carpet Diaries continues to nag my mind. I know it's a story most people, including me, hate, but I also think it had potential. Note: In this post, I'm using the name Jessica to refer to the MC, as that's her default name. Also, this post is pretty much personal opinion.

Initial Expectations

For starters, I don't mind the concept about being an up-and-coming actress trying to work her way up to stardom, the underbelly of the film industry, and the relationships she builds up from the bottom. In fact, it has the potential to have some variety if it focuses on building up one's career from the ground up properly, like gradually climbing from the bottom and learning a lot from experience along the way.

Reality

The execution, however, destroyed my expectations. Even though my interest in this story started decreasing since about Chapter 5, Chapter 8 is when I officially dislike this series because of Markus von Groot upgrading Jessica's supporting role to a lead one in Tender Nothings without much effort shown. This reeks of Mary Sue vibes that also makes me dislike her as quickly as I dislike the series, which dragged too long with little substance along the way. After all, it shouldn't be easy to get a lead role, and to see Jessica doing it without getting through so much of the trouble actors go through sends a bad message that you don't have to do much to get to the top. This applies to all professions instead of just acting.

I also notice people's complaints that the HWU characters are sidelined, but since I've never played the game, I wouldn't want them to hog the story. What they could've been is having the same level of significance as the HSS characters from the original app: supporting characters at the most while the new cast continues to dominate the spotlight, just like the HSS series in Choices.

One character I utterly despise is Markus von Groot. He shows unprofessional behavior towards others like attacking them for their insecurities, wasting resources and other people's efforts by rewriting scenes at the last minute (hypocritical of him because he claims to value practicality), and valuing property over people. I also hold him responsible for making Jessica a Mary Sue and singlehandedly ruining my enthusiasm for this series. He's also a pretentious snob who looks down on others for not having the same level of "intelligence" as him, which points out to his massive ego. Not to mention that his disorganized way of directing the movie shows how useless he is in the end. It was good riddance that he never came back for Tender Nothings.

The last scene of Chapter 12 is, without a doubt, controversial. Thank goodness the writers changed Victoria's reaction from a physical attack to a verbal one, but the damage had already been done, and I blame Pixelberry for daring to write such a scene like this in the first place while not doing so to acerbic male love interests. Now, this comes as a shock to others, but when I first played the scene, the person I was angriest at wasn't Victoria, but Markus. Honestly, Victoria has the right to react angrily at betrayal, whether real or suspected, though having her physically assault Jessica is too much. As for Markus, there's trouble brewing among the cast members, yet he gets mad not because of a quarrel breaking out but because a priceless painting gets destroyed. I get that such a painting is valuable, but diffusing tensions, which he never did, is a much higher priority than a broken painting. Can't he just take a good look at the mirror and realize all the blunders he committed towards other people? It doesn't help that he insulted the actors and studio executives evaluating his work, which he has no right to do. That makes him the ultimate asshole in the scene.

Inner Circle, particularly the Love Interests

I like that all of the love interests are unique in their own ways. Each have their own personalities, backstories, and struggles. Matt wants to prove Hollywood that he can be a versatile actor. Seth talks about getting rejected for his ideas. Teja has to put up with feeling unappreciated for all the hard work she has done. Victoria struggles with sexism and ageism in an industry that treats women as expendable despite the skills they've built up. All these prove that they are much more than meets the eye.

As for which love interest that fascinates me, that would be Victoria Fontaine. She's the best LI in the series as well as the only one I like, though moderately. Look, I know she started with a rocky relationship with Jessica, but that doesn't mean I excuse the bad things she has done. In fact, I disapprove of her mind games during Jessica's audition. Even if characters are supposed to be flawed, they should make amends for their mistakes, and she's no exception, such as burying the hatchet, which is what she did (albeit in a premium option). She also acknowledges her own shortcomings, such as criticizing the tension between them as unprofessional. She even apologized immediately for the verbal assault when she had the chance. What seals her as the only love interest I like is that she's aware of reality's harshness and gives good advice on celebrity life and some scenes for Tender Nothings, in part because she has a good amount of depth in many of her scenes, whether free or premium. For example, she works in an industry where women are treated as commodities with a short shelf life. Directors and tabloids judge her by her appearance and disregard her acting skills, prompting her to prove them wrong, swallow her pride when working with Jessica, and surprisingly make efforts. It doesn't justify her initial hostility, but what it does is that it gives sense to her actions. It's far too easy to demonize her just because of personal bias against certain character "types", but doing so is a disservice to her character by assuming she's a one-dimensional character, which she isn't and shouldn't be. After all, she provides the harsh reality of the film industry looking down on women.

Knowing Pixelberry's disregard for its female characters, my anger's directed at the writers for doing her a grave injustice, such as giving her a very negative first impression, delaying the progress of her storyline in favor of unnecessary screen time with Matt, and paywalling her, up to and including her involvement in the movie. All because of her gender and Pixelberry's blatant pandering to their target audience without regard to the story's quality. This post essentially sums up Pixelberry's mishandling of such a well-crafted character. I get that Pixelberry is ultimately a business, but in an app explicitly titled Choices and focused on telling stories, nothing can justify this mistreatment of a character with a good deal of depth in her just for the sake of pandering to your target demographic.

Unfortunately, all love interests have uneven screen time. Matt continues hogging the spotlight even though most of his screen time is pointless fanservice. Seth and Teja don't have a lot to offer, while Victoria has the least, and not enough to progress the story in a meaningful way. Honestly, Pixelberry made a mistake by adding too much screen time for Matt without addressing him as a character. Sure he's nice, but most of that screen time should be given to other love interests, particularly Victoria because of her story having a slow progress. By lavishing all attention on him at the cost of other love interests, Pixelberry has created a self-fulfilling prophecy that discourages players to pursue other love interests not favored by Pixelberry, and this has been going on in various stories.

As for Chazz, he's the only member of Jessica's inner circle that I dislike. For a best friend, he comes across as unreliable, such as lying about his house and job to his own best friend. I get that there are times that he's helpful, such as giving moral support to her when she was down, but his job as her agent means he has to be sincere at all times, even if it means giving the unflattering parts of his life and career.

Book 2

Fast forward to Book 2, and we get a warning about mature themes in this book. Sounds exciting that RCD will tackle serious issues in the film industry inspired by the #MeToo movement, yay?

Unfortunately, it's badly executed. At first, it seems alright. Viktor Montmartre established himself as a threat by attacking Jessica and using his power to make her career and even life as miserable as possible. After all, that's what a villain should be portrayed as. However, he more or less remains on the background while using Tommy Phelps as his proxy to do his dirty work, which makes it hard for me to think of him as a real threat throughout the story. Even worse, the last third of Book 2 turned the book from a mildly interesting plot regarding an important issue into a nostalgia filler for characters I don't know. Not only does this left me confused, but disappointed. In the end, it irritates me that Viktor Montmartre receives a mere slap on the wrist by being hounded by paparazzi. Why can't he be put in jail instead? It's a huge disservice to people who have experienced this kind of stuff, considering the amount of effort and pain they went through to get their story heard.

Even the love interests were done dirty. Matt, who spent Book 1 proving his versatility as an actor, ends up in an action movie again, even though he's playing the villain this time. Look, I get that action movies are his specialization, but would it be better if he tries something that doesn't throw his efforts to waste for once? It doesn't help that him starring in the same movie as Jessica means he ends up hogging the spotlight again until Chapter 10. Seth finally gets to work with Teja, who gets to direct her own movie. Unfortunately, they end up bickering like kids while expecting Jessica to take one side over the other. This is a far cry from their personalities back in Book 1, where they were sensible and addressed serious issues of their respective careers. It's like the writers decided they no longer cared for both of them and screwed their personalities. Victoria is shoved aside to a movie of her own and given no storyline, rendering her superfluous, which is another huge disservice done to her, especially since it's revealed that her experience resembles Jessica's the most. That could've given her some opportunity to help Jessica in a major way while not imposing her as the main love interest. All this happened just to build up Thomas Hunt, a character from the HWU app, as a love interest. As someone who has never played that game, I wonder why he should be a love interest even though he already has a story that paid its due, especially since he may already have a love interest to someone who isn't Jessica in some people's games, which made me uncomfortable. Not to mention that she never knew him on a personal level in Chapter 10. It was a no-brainer for me to reject him.

Chazz does yet another thing that proves how much I dislike him. Instead of quitting when his own best friend got attacked, he quitted when Matt got injured even though he wasn't responsible for Matt. If he is really Jessica's best friend, he would've quitted right after she got attacked. Some friend...

As for the HWU characters finally becoming supporting characters during the last third of Book 2, it gets ruined by the Viktor Montmartre arc, which addresses an important issue, getting sidelined. It gets worse with Thomas Hunt becoming a love interest just to pander to nostalgic HWU players while ignoring the important issue that is sexual harassment in the film industry. Look, I get that there are people who have played HWU who want to see more of them, but it shouldn't be done at the cost of the storyline, especially one that addresses an important issue.

And what about Apricott Persimmon and Chadley Fortnum? Honestly, I agree with this post that Apricott's insecurities should've been hinted at early during her debut and developed throughout her screen time instead of dumped at the last moment possible as a buildup to a premium option. Doing so would've given another perspective from a sheltered individual, especially one serving as a foil to Victoria, who clawed her way to the top instead of being born and raised in fame like Apricott. I also think her method of "I'll help you if you help me first" makes it hard to understand and sympathize her or even convince players to pick the premium option to accompany her. Chadley's okay, though I think he can be a better friend by standing up to Tommy and Apricott.

What could've been done to make it more interesting

Make the protagonist a veteran actor trying to disprove the tabloid rumors about being washed-up a la Victoria, or even make her the protagonist: I know the latter's controversial because not everyone likes Victoria, and doing so means altering her character in some ways, but I find the idea of a veteran defying the odds a more interesting story than that of a newbie rising to the top. To be honest, I prefer playing as a character who starts out having flaws in behavior and skills and doing their best to overcome them.

Work with the HWU crew since Book 1: I admit that working with the HWU characters in the last third of Book 2 was fun because of how helpful they've been, especially Holly Chang. Then it struck me: Why wasn't this in Book 1, where Jessica could've been at least content to get a supporting or minor role and sticking with it? Having her work with the HWU characters alongside the love interests would've been a better way to use them, like with the HSS old guard. That would've at least pleased HWU players who expect to see more of them. I think their lack of real involvement in Book 1 is one factor in the series' failure, which contributed to demands for more of their appearance in Book 2. Unfortunately, their growing prominence derailed the #MeToo-inspired plot by sidelining it. Since I prefer having the protagonist being a veteran instead of a newbie, have her work with them as a last resort to prove the tabloids wrong while addressing important issues of her time.

Get rid of Markus von Groot: The previous point brings me to the conclusion that Markus is ultimately unnecessary, in addition to being loathsome. I've already mentioned the reasons why I hate him, though I started disliking him when I first played the last third of Book 2. Ironic because he doesn't appear on that part.

Do not make Thomas Hunt a love interest: No offense to those who are romancing Hunt, but his setup as a love interest raises too many red flags on creepy older men taking advantage of younger women. A mysterious note in your room telling you to meet that person in a dark, secluded area? What could possibly go wrong with that? Another factor is that Jessica didn't know him on a personal level during the bridge meeting. Look, I get that he's not a bad guy like Viktor, and he's a capable director, but Jessica was still suffering from the attack, and Hunt hates Viktor as well, so the latter should've known better than to meet Jessica in a secluded place. Not to mention that as a HWU character, Hunt has no business hogging the spotlight, let alone as a love interest.

Stick to one tone: After reading this post, I couldn't agree more on the weak points of RCD. The weak execution of the harassment issue and the shift in tone despite its original presentation as a light-hearted take on Hollywood is proof that Pixelberry is desperate to keep making it lucrative no matter the long-term results and costs.

My thoughts on Book 3

Honestly, I was furious at the announcement that there will be a third book and Pixelberry continuing such a horrible series just because it was "popular" with the "silent majority". If this book eventually gets released, I'll just play it as a diamond mine and for Victoria Fontaine and the ocelot. If I'm feeling optimistic about it, which I'm not, all the love interests have equal face time, I get to see more of Holly Chang, and Markus von Groot never appears. Unfortunately, the more I think about RCD, the angrier I feel, bringing me to the conclusion that it's a lost cause and irrefutable evidence of Pixelberry's mismanagement of time, resources, and effort. If it weren't for the few characters I like in this series, I would've shunned Book 3.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #56

UPDATE 56: Your Friendly Neighborhood Supervillain

Last time Taylor was getting settled into her new building, where she’d have her headquarters for the work to come. She also encountered Dad Hebert, who was glad to see her but they couldn’t really talk. Let’s continue.

Well, last time the chapter ended when all the men she asked Coil to get her arrived. So I suppose it’s time for work! What’s there to do when you’re trying to take over an area of the city? It doesn’t seem to me like Coil left her any kind of instructions on how to do it, so I guess it’ll be improvising time. About the only thing I can think that definitely needs to be done is make sure the Merchants and any other groups get the heck out of the Docks area. How to do that, though? Through sheer force? Threats? Physically hauling them out of the Docks like they’re yesterday’s trash? Physical harm seems like a necessary thing, I don’t imagine they’ll be getting out without some of that.

Skitter has to give an image of power and confidence, for that reason she doesn’t make any small talk with Coil’s men, nor helps them to carry the stuff into the vehicle. The henchmen are dressed like workers from the city, their identities concealed by their jumpsuits and masks. Good, just as expected of Coil, only the best stuff for him.

If it weren’t for that, I’d think Coil was trying to be funny, giving the hazmat crew to the bug girl.

Golly, Skitter, really? You think Coil is the type to prank people or try to be funny? I mean, I don’t know Coil that well, but he really doesn’t strike me as someone who’d bother to do such a thing. I mean, he does do unnecessary stuff, but that’s in the form of…torture or something like that, whatever Coil does for pleasure in the timelines he deletes. He’s not going to play practical jokes on anyone.

Since she can ride in silence, Skitter focuses on gathering bugs. Sometimes she gathers from the immediate area, sometimes she goes around and selects the right bugs for her purposes. She had done it for her important battles, and now that she has to make herself look like an important villain, intimidating and fearsome. She needs everyone to know she’s here, doesn’t she? Yeah, a few clouds of insects flying towards one same location may be a good way to do that. When she does, the clouds are large enough to cast shadows onto the surface. I hope Dad Hebert doesn’t see this, because he’s going to get worried about Taylor if he does.

They weren’t the only bugs I controlled.  I had others on separate tasks.  With a number, I created barriers, heavy clouds in alleyways and across streets. My motives here were purely selfish – I laid these barriers between the southmost end of the old Boardwalk and the Docks because I didn’t want my dad entering the area.  My gut told me that if he got a good look at me in costume, he’d know who I was.

Dad or not, I think he’d think it twice before approaching the converging insects if there’s no immediate signs of Taylor being in danger. He’s not an imprudent man, he’d be careful. I think maybe he’d try to get in contact with Taylor, though.

The great thing about being able to feel through bugs is that she can find out how many people are in the Docks areas. There seem to be many small clusters of people, no clue if any of them are related to the Merchants – there most likely are. Using her bugs to form shapes and letters, Skitter directs everyone to go to a place, and wakes up those who are asleep by biting them. Hm. She planning to gather everyone and tell them they’re all in her territory now? I don’t think everyone will simply accept it without complaints. I hope she’s prepared for a possible attack or at the very least some heated words.

Once the supplies are placed in a way everyone can see them, Skitter has her bugs ready to ward off anyone who tries to approach them without permission, and a sizable enough crowd gathers – a fifth of the total she tried to get, which makes sense. Not everyone would dare to follow the bugs’ indications, everyone in the city must know Skitter can do that – she gets ready. Also!

I’d known this move of mine would attract people of all types.  If they were Merchants, I was okay with that, I’d accounted for it.  Above all, I knew that this offering of supplies would attract the people who were hungry enough to venture out into the outdoors with the oppressive cloud of bugs looming above them.  I would also attract the people who would want to confront me, Merchants included.

I have to wonder how she’ll know who is a Merchant. They do have a logo, but I don’t think they’d be wearing them or have it drawn on them. What’s the difference between a very desperate civilian unaffiliated to anyone, and a Merchant?

I was taking a risk, here.  Gambling. It was like betting someone a million dollars that you’d hit a bullseye, when you’d barely played darts before. It wasn’t that I was confident this would succeed.  It was that I really needed that million dollars.

In short, I needed to get underway with Coil’s agenda, and I needed to do it fast.

This is making me curious how the rest of the Undersiders are doing. Grue would have no problem being intimidating and subduing people, so I’m not really worried about him. Tattletale...well she may have a bit of a hard time controlling a crowd, so I think she’d rely on Coil’s men for that. Heckpuppy...hah! You’d have to be insane to fight a few dogs the size of a truck! She’s going to have no troubles at all. Regent, hm, I’m not entirely certain how well he’d do. Not as difficult as Tattletale’s situation, but he’s also not as intimidating as Grue or Heckpuppy.

Once Skitter judges there are enough people in the crowd, she makes her triumphant entrance. She’s hiding near the supplies, without being seen, she makes a swarm of bugs approach while being shaped as a human. Of course people step away from the swarm, nobody notices anything...and then it dissipates. All bugs go to the supplies, where she climbs onto them and makes it look like she teleported there! Impressive! I must say, I like how since some time she has been using her power to make some illusions. It’s a clever use of insects.

I kept the bugs swirling around me, tightly packed together so they would be moving in tendrils and loops.  Like Grue habitually did with his power, I was aiming to use my own abilities to make myself look bigger, more impressive.  It was like a dog raising its hackles or a cat arching its back.

Hey, it has been effective before! Sure, maybe with some thought people would realize this is a trick, but Skitter has managed to fool people with her swarms before. The bugs swirling around her afterwards is also a nice touch. All in all, I think she made a quite good entrance, it’s guaranteed she’ll have everyone’s attention on her now!

“Some of you know of me!” I called out, and the noises of the swarm accented the words, gave an eerie, strangely loud echo to my voice.  “My name is Skitter!”

After everything the Undersiders have done, is there really someone in the city who doesn’t know of her? A bank robbery, an attack to the PRT, the party they crashed...those weren’t small incidents, and the rumor mill works rather quickly. Sure, maybe people wouldn’t know the full extent of what their powers can do or their names, but I think everyone at least could have heard about someone controlling bugs.

Oh, civilians and gang members aren’t the only ones listening right now! Looks like a hero is here too – a heroine, staying in the back and listening. The costume description doesn’t sound familiar, I’m not sure who she is. All I know is that she isn’t anyone in the Wards, nor she is Miss Militia.

There come the words of the day!

“I am laying claim to this area!  From this moment, I rule this territory!”

Skitter may have expected jeering, but I didn’t – at least right after saying that. Crowds may be impulsive and not very smart when it’s about taking decisions, but usually they don’t reject someone who has their attention.

“I am not the ABB, I am not the Merchants, the Empire or the Chosen!  I am acting in your interests!”

Actions speak louder than words, and that’s why Skitter brought supplies. You know...I don’t know how people will react to living in a villain’s territory. Would they consider themselves minions in some way? No money is needed, no tributes are needed...at face value this does seem like quite the good deal, really. To them someone protecting them wouldn’t be a villain, that’s for sure.

Maybe giving portions of the city to a heroic cape to protect and deal with the community inside could work, if it’s about maintaining order and keeping the civilians content. I don’t know if it’d work, but hey, if the villains can do it successfully, so can the heroes, right? Especially because they wouldn’t have the word ‘villain’ branding every single action.

Rules, huh. Alright, what is it?

“No gangs will operate here.  Merchants? Chosen?  I know some of you are in this crowd.  Consider this my declaration of war.  I will not permit you to sell drugs, to hurt my people or steal from them, or to seek shelter in my territory!”

Reasonable enough. She also proceeds to do a show of intimidation to show she means business, and bluffs in an attempt to get enemies to think twice before causing trouble. I don’t know...I think anyone from the Chosen or the Merchants wouldn’t be allowed to leave, and any civilians will have to rely on Skitter to keep them safe. I don’t doubt those enemy groups could intimidate civilians and others to do their bidding, so yeah, Skitter has a lot of work ahead of her if she wants to keep people safe.

“To everyone else!  If you assist any of these groups, give them food, shelter, or business?  If you sell drugs, steal or prey on people in this area, you lose my goodwill.  You will receive no more supplies, and you will earn my attention, with eyes on you for every waking hour.  That’s strike one.  If I catch you doing it again?  I treat you as one of the enemy.”

24/7 surveillance? I can’t say I imagine Skitter can do that, but hey, if the civilians and the enemies don’t know that then great! It’ll be effective. Better hope none of them will think in testing Skitter’s limits...they totally will, won’t they?

Before giving supplies, Skitter lies down one last statement:

“If you want more?  Work for me. This work does not have to be criminal, for I need people to pass on messages, to act as spokespersons for these neighborhoods, and to clean up or rebuild.  For anyone who does assist me, them and their families will have access to some of those foods you miss, to showers and electricity, and generous payment.  You and your loved ones will be dry, clean, and you will have fresh clothes.”

Hmmmmm...maybe...that will work? I’m not sure. It depends on if people would view themselves as henchmen or not. There are many that wouldn’t want such label on them. It’s an appealing exchange, though, being safe in exchange of work that doesn’t have to be criminal – does that mean there is the option for it to be criminal? I wonder how many civilians will join Skitter...

Now that her monologue is over, Skitter is ready to hand out the supplies, one for each family. It takes a moment for someone to approach because, well, would you immediately trust a villain giving you supplies while there are clouds of insects flying around, and knowing people from other villainous groups surely are watching you and what you do? I think I would be rather afraid. Kudos to the first person to approach!

There aren’t enough supplies for everyone, so it seems Skitter’s first duty will be to decide what to do with that problem. It could be her chance to show she can be reliable. Before she can do anything, more trouble happens. Ah, there it is! The enemy groups are making their appearance! Or at least it seems the man who just pulled out a knife and is swinging it around is a member of the Merchants. Bright move to do this right in front of Skitter, buddy, this is not going to end well for him.

Just as expected, Skitter isn’t scared of some knife. The guy – who is definitely high, judging by how his tics are described – keeps blustering and saying he’s not scared, until Skitter challenges him to use that knife on her, to stab her. Uh...well, I’ll trust she knows what she’s doing. I do remember her costume was resistant to blades, since I remember it didn’t let Shadow Stalker slit her neck, but I’m not sure how well it’ll fare against a whole knife being pressed against it, tip-first. Skitter isn’t made of jello, that’s likely to hurt, even if the knife doesn’t stab her.

He lunged, holding the knife with both hands to drive it into my stomach, just beside where I had the armor.  I resisted the urge to bend over, but I did have to step back for balance, and I had to put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.   I clutched his shoulders, digging my nails in for grip. I could feel pain radiate from my stomach and into my lower abdomen and chest.  That was despite the fact that the fabric of my costume had kept it from piercing my flesh.

Oh, great, just her luck. He stabbed right beside her armor. At least it seems the spider silk resists even that. I wonder how fast something will have to go to pierce through it? She’s not immune to bullets, that’s for sure.

More attempts to stab Skitter fail, she effortlessly pours insects over that man. Capsaicin infused insects, that is. Looks like those will be part of her everyday arsenal from now on, it seems! Since this hasn’t been enough demonstration of how she’ll treat her enemies, she also stomps on his hand with her heel, and would have stabbed him if Battery hadn’t intervened. Ah, the heroine was Battery.

She spent the accumulated charge of her power and caught the knife out of the air by the handle. “How does this tie into the stunt you helped pull at the HQ?”

“The Wards’ building?  The intel we got from there was valuable, and that kind of money buys a lot of things.” I looked at the remaining pile of supplies.

A believable enough lie. With some luck the Wards and the PRT will try to find out to who the Undersiders supposedly sold the information. The more time they spend on a red herring, the better.

As expected, Battery doesn’t approve of this whole thing, but she’s not going to do anything about it because the Undersiders are a lesser evil. Yeah, that adds up. Weld’s files listed other teams as priority, the Undersiders weren’t among them. I suppose once the PRT finishes dealing with the aftermath of what happened in the headquarters the Undersiders will be much higher priority, and then they will try to stop them from taking over parts of the city. Add one possible plotline more to the growing list of plotlines future arcs may use.

You know, I’m glad Skitter doesn’t hesitate about lying to the heroes’ face like that. True, the supplies were obtained through a vaguely legal medium, but I doubt the Wards and the PRT will take it at face value. Someone will try to snoop where they got supplies from.

Trying to find out Skitter’s agenda is a failure, because no way she’d tell her she’s doing this to help Coil take over the city. I wonder if they’ll ever make the connection between Coil’s rising influence and the Undersiders? At some point they will, won’t they? The conundrum is what will happen first: will the heroes find out about the connection between the Undersiders and Coil, or will Coil triumph? Personally, my bet is on the first one.

Credit where credit is due: Skitter is doing rather well in her first public speech to her territory! Once Battery left, everyone seemed to approve her a bit more, maybe because Battery not trying to stop her was like a tacit approval. Can’t say I don’t understand why they’d leave her alone even though the thought of a villain taking control of anything is a bit nerve-wracking. The city is a big bundle of trouble, if heroes can have less stuff to worry about, the more they can deal with the rest of this whole city. I don’t expect them to just step aside and let any of the Undersiders continue controlling territories unchallenged once the city is in an acceptable state, though. Controlled territories are like ticking time bombs.

So yes, there aren’t enough boxes, so before everything devolves into chaos, Skitter takes control of the situation.

“Each of you now has three ladybugs in your hands.  Keep them, and I will use them to find you later today to drop something off for you, with a small gift to each group of you for being patient.”

Hohoh, bribing the unlucky ones with a small gift! Skitter sure knows how to keep things from falling apart! It’s going to be a bit hard to knowingly keep insects on your hands, though. Instinct when having bugs on you isn’t to let them stay for a few hours, it’s to swat them away. Makes me wonder how many will have ladybugs on them when it’s time to give more boxes.

When Skitter was about to leave, her power lets her notice there’s someone nearby, staring at her – one of her new vassals, so to say. Skitter tries to dismiss her gently, but she’s not here for a box of food, although she has ladybugs on her hand. There’s something else she needs help with...

...and here it is! Looks like the plotline for this arc has been found!

“My kid brother.  I- he needs help.  My parents are sick and they’re in the hospital and I can’t tell them because I told them I’d take care of him, um, and I asked the cops but they’re so busy and there’s no way they can help, and I was going to ask that hero, Battery, but then she disappeared so fast-”  The words spilled out of her mouth, less and less intelligible as she kept talking. She only stopped when her voice cracked.

I think I see where this is going. Skitter is going to be in charge, and she promised to help and fight other groups. This gal here even asked confirmation about that last part. Does that mean she’s going to ask Skitter to bring that kid brother back? A hostage, or a minor grunt in a different group, perhaps?

“The Merchants took him.  My kid brother.  I want you to get him back.  Please.”

A hostage, alright. Well then! This can be a good way to show goodwill from Skitter to everyone in her newly claimed territory. The word will get around fast about how Skitter rescued a relative of someone who lives here.

The problem I see is that Skitter may have to do it alone or with some of Coil’s men. The rest of the Undersiders are going to be busy with their own territories, they won’t have time or manpower to help Skitter with this, uh...comparatively minor problem. I have faith on Skitter’s ability, but still, this won’t be easy to do all by herself. There’s a chance of failure.

I hope she succeeds, though. If she succeeds, then people here will have more reasons to believe she does have everyone’s interests as her goal, and the other groups – or at least the Merchants -- will see her as a threat. Compared to other arcs, it doesn’t seem like there’s much at stake, but the end result here can have repercussions and make Skitter’s goals reachable or unreachable.

My interest has been piqued, but I’ll continue next time.

Next update: in two updates

[goldenscript]

morning glory.

park jimin | 4,140 words | hockey au / fluff ↳ mornings have always been the bane of your existence until a hockey player by the name of park jimin is involved.

author’s note: welp, this came out longer than i thought... lol. also, bless bts’s “as i told you” cover for inspiring this <3 (you can watch the performance here!)

It goes without saying that waking you up in the morning is like asking for a death wish. You actually enjoy sleeping until noon and waking to see sunlight streaming past your curtains. It’s your own therapy after a long, gruelling weekday of waking up early, studying, and working at as a campus barista, so you refuse to let anyone disturb your weekends. Especially not when your only responsibility on those two days are working from 6 PM to closing. The very act of waking you before 11:30 AM is a downright sin that you would never subject yourself to, ever, and yet—

You’re awake on a Saturday at 7:30 AM. Because to every cloud in which you are never to be woken before a reasonable time is a silver lining that comes in the form of a man named Kim Taehyung. You see, being awake before the sun’s rays hang from high in the sky is a result of your godforsaken family friend asking—well, more like begging—you for a favor that had you known would entail the involvement of the school’s prized dual-playing center forward and right wing defenseman, none other than Park Jimin, would have you rejecting any offers of free milk teas and hot pot for the rest of winter quarter. 

Though as much as you curse at the brunet for tricking you into this ordeal, you can’t say you’re complaining too much. Despite the niggle of a doubt that doing this may screw over your small infatuation with him further, you’ve actually come to enjoy said mornings with the blond. The first of them began bumpily but that can only be expected when Taehyung had to drag you to the ice rink where he regrettably told you that there was indeed no more coffee in the nearby vending machine and a rather snippy Jimin got you on you both for arriving late; but, despite this inconvenience, you managed to film Jimin with little to no trouble as promised and he even rewarded you with some much needed caffeine afterwards. It wasn’t long before this first practice recording melded into the second to the third to even the fourth, where each interaction became increasingly more and more comfortable than the last.

Between the flirty repertoire to even the witty banters that ensued, you began to grow comfortable with the ever-so-popular, Park Jimin. You learned that he was from a beach town where many of its people cared for one another, never ceasing to wane in their united front. You learned how he came to love hockey, thanks to his father and a game that played on his television screen at seven in the morning when he was eight. You learned that over all else that he was the type of person who worked hard for what he wanted and it showed, not only in his athletic performance but his academic one as well. Most of all, you learned that he was indeed a morning person, and because of his early wakings as a child, he can only celebrate this discovery by continuing this tradition every morning.

You don’t like it, but you certainly can’t demote its importance. In fact, you can’t help but admire him for all of it, for his hardworking ethics, for his charming demeanor, and for his attentive nature, because since that day you replaced Taehyung as Jimin’s recorder and proved that you could do the task well, he’s been nothing but sweet to you. From the cheeky smiles he’ll throw over his shoulder to his habit to lend you an extra sweater to the way he once let you onto the ice and he was right by your side the entire time.

Since your time as his recorder, you can’t help but admit that the small infatuation you had for him as bloomed tenfold with each Saturday you’ve spent with him making it grow even more than you thought possible. It’s alarming to say the least, but of course you show no signs of it affecting you too much.

On this particular day, you come to the rink just a little bit earlier than usual. It’s only your fifth time recording for him, but it’s the day before his big game and he practically begged you. And you do so with little protest; after all, this game means the world to him, because one game just isn’t ‘one game’ to him. As you stated before, Park Jimin was a big baller, an all or nothing type of person.

So, with a resounding sweep across the scratched surface, a sharp thwack! can be heard echoing throughout the empty ice rink. This very man with tufts of blond hair slick against his forehead graces across the ice to retrieve the puck from the clutches of the well-weathered netting. Though he is on the ice in a pair of compressed shorts and white long-sleeve sweater, you can see the material of his sweater cling to his chest. You zoom out of his form as he turns toward you, effectively ending this practice video.

Once he returns to you in the box, removing his skates, you begin to scold him, “You’re not even playing, and you look like you just played a shit ton of scrimmages.”

“Actually,” Jimin says in a matter-of-factly tone, “that’s an all-day scrimmage.”

You roll your eyes at him, shoving the Hydro Flask to him with a grumble, “Same difference.”

“Well—”

“—Okay, okay boy genius,” you sigh, shaking your head. “Go dry yourself off before you catch a cold or somethin’.”

Taking the water bottle from him, you hand him a towel from the adjacent bench and watch as he dries the top of his head. “Y’know,” he says with a smile curving on his lips, “you probably wouldn’t get worked about me getting sick so much if you stopped stealing my clothes.”

“It’s one hoodie, you’ll live,” you huff, allowing one of the long sleeves to go over your hand and effectively hit his arm a harmless smack. “Plus, you said I could use it. Still beyond me that you don’t get cold being in this freezer.”

“Not if you’re gonna use it as a weapon!” he scoffs, grabbing onto the loose sleeve. “I may need to ask for it back.”

You pout, “After everything I’ve done for you!—”

“—All you’ve done it wake up early, Y/N.” he deadpans, giving the sleeve shake. You unwisely decide to use the other sleeve as a weapon, but the same result occurs and you’re trapped within the oversized confines of the soft cotton material. His half-moon eyes meet yours and you swear you hear your own heart skip a beat. And, fuck, did your breath just hitch? You try not to bring notice to it by meeting his eyes with half-narrowed ones. 

“For the record, Jimin, waking up early is a cruel hell.” you shake your head, trying to pry yourself from his grasp. “It’s still a miracle that Taehyung convinced me to do it for you.”

Jimin’s lips are pulled together as he tries to suppress his own giggles at your meager attempts, tilting his head to the side to ask, “It’s ‘cuz you love me huh?”

Your nose merely scrunches in response before you quip, “Do you have a concussion or is your head just getting bigger from your ego?”

He laughs, sending more stutters to your poor heart. “I’ll just take that as a yes.”

You scoff with your own smile, “In what world was that jab against your ego an ‘I love you’?”

“Because it’s coming from you,” he replies, shrugging off your inquisitive look. Still he maintains his hold on you. Funny how it’s almost akin to a physical representation of what he’s doing to your heart. Even as you struggle from him, just for the sake of your own burning cheeks, he still manages to keep you in place. His visage seemingly even a little closer than you last remembered. Or is your brain playing a cruel joke on you?

You almost want to deny it, especially when you’re certain that your heart wants to have any excuse to be beside this golden boy but you feel his breath fan across your chilled cheeks. The mint radiates off him in waves even with the dried sweat on the side of his face.

When you feel his warm breath significantly closer against your cheeks, you recoil back with cheeks flushed than ever. “What are you doing?!”

He laughs again, scooting forward as he replies, “Your cheeks looked cold! I was warming them.”

This time you don’t move away though your screaming appendage is telling you to do so. He’s practically a hair’s breadth away, moving his grip on your sleeves to cover your poor reddened cheeks. He frowns at the sight, “Jeez. I might need to bring two extra sweaters if you’re gonna get this cold.”

“Wha—”

“Free of charge, of course,” he says, keeping his unsurprisingly warm palms over your visage alongside the sleeves. The way this guy managed to maintain heat even in this arctic environment was a skill you wished he could bestow upon you. Not that you minded this treatment very much.

You can barely contain yourself the longer he seems to stay there watching you warm up. With Jimin, there’s always been a lack of personal space. He’s understanding when you tell him, but since you two breached comfortability after the second week, it’s almost impossible for him not to be this way. You just can’t help but kind of hope there’s more to the lingering touches and the thoughtful gestures—okay, really hope there’s more to it than just him being him, though you’d be damned to bring up any of this to Taehyung.

Jimin then says, “Hey,” You look up just as he asks, “are you busy tomorrow night?”

He’s still close as ever, and it’s almost hard to think under that kind of pressure when a part of you just wants to press his lips to yours. Regardless, you try to rack your brain even as you almost immediately know the answer. It’s a Sunday, after all. But you decide not to answer the question completely, “I might have work… why—”

Is he going to ask me to come to his game? I mean… I’m going already.

“—oh, nevermind,” he says with pink cheeks, gently releasing your sleeves. “So, um,” he coughs, “did I do alright?”

Oh. Nevermind. You let out a breath of relief, hoping it just came off as an exasperated sigh . That’d ruin the surprise.

You pretend to give him a funny look at the sudden change in topic, adjusting the sleeves back to your wrists before showing him the video.

In your own flushed embarrassment, it seems you overlooked his own flushed cheeks and pounding heart. But that only comes as a relief to Jimin.

By the end of the practice, the two of you wind up parting ways after a cup of coffee and a few pastries from the bakery. It was becoming a tradition to going together, and the more and more time you two got to spend together, the more he was beginning to feel the effects of a mere infatuation bloom into actual feelings. From the small anecdotes about how your love life has been nothing but failed experiences after failed experiences to how much you adored the Harry Potter books so much you’ve read them at least four or five times since you purchased them at the age of nine.

He enjoys the fact that you’re so kind and hardworking, even more so at your timeliness to his Saturday practices. He loves how cold you get from the frost on the other side of the glass and from the outside world, seeing you bundled up when you enter and bundle even more after he’s lent you his oversized black sweatshirt. In truth, he finds you so fascinating and so beautiful, it’s almost sad that he never tried to get to know you sooner. And considering he’s best friends with your family friend, it seems like your paths would’ve crossed sooner (or perhaps that’s him wishing you two had).

He can’t help but throw himself onto his bed after discarding of his practice clothes into his hamper, his backpack a little lighter because he didn’t have to lug that extra weight with him. Just knowing that you have it is enough to make him smile at the loss of one of his favorite sweaters—

“—Dude, you are so whipped.” Taehyung says, plopping down his own backpack and laying on his bed.

Jimin retorts, throwing a pillow, “You hush. Am not.”

His best friend grins, catching it before placing it on his bed. “Are too. You’re practically grinning from ear to ear right now, and I know for a fact that there isn’t a hockey game playing today so there’s only reason why you’re smiling that big.”

He then groans in response, laying flat on his back before craning his head to the brunet, “She’s not coming tomorrow.”

Taehyung’s brows scrunch together as he asks, “How do you know that?”   

“She said she was working tomorrow night.”

“Did she say that word for word?”

Does he know something?

Jimin sits up and looks at the engineering major with narrowed eyes, “Why?”

Despite how nonchalant he tries to look with a simple shrug, Jimin sees the slight panic flash across his eyes. “Well…” he pauses for a second, “It’s important to know what she says verbatim. Leaves chance that she might show up if she said might or maybe or somethin’.”

The hockey player considers this, knowing that you were the type to do things you set your mind on. From working during the school week to pursuing an English major despite the doubt from your family members to waking up early to help him out despite how much you valued that time to sleep in and relax. Of course, the last thing was a result of Taehyung needing mornings to help tutor Jungkook in physics but still you made it work in your schedule because you hated not keeping your word.

So, Jimin took that moment to nod, “Alright. Yeah. You’re right.” He takes a deep breath before admitting, “I just… don’t want to have that expectation that she’ll show and then she doesn’t, y’know?” 

“Don’t worry about it so much! Have a little faith, why dontcha?”

Jimin can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he says, “Ever the optimistic, aren’t you?”

Without another word, his younger friend merely tosses his pillow back to him, “Of course! Now stop brooding and help me study for this midterm. You owe me~”

And it’s true. Taehyung has played a detrimental part in bringing you and Jimin together. The moment Jimin actually voiced how cute you were, the brunet took it upon himself to set up this a little arrangement. Always sending winks and knowing grins between the two of them whenever he could because this was something pretty new for Jimin.

Having feelings for someone else, even as an infatuation was something new. All Jimin has really ever focused on since his entrance into the university was hockey and school, because juggling a sport and a degree in business was important, and to have a relationship meant adding another priority onto his rather packed list. Yet with you, there was no hassle, just ease. He didn’t need to think so much about his feelings for you when you started filming his practices, rather you slipped your way in like an opposing defense man catching him off guard. He couldn’t find it in himself to fight you off, not the same way as he had with Jooheon last season, but he let himself slip and he hasn’t regretted it since.

By the time tomorrow comes, Taehyung is more than well-equipped to take on his midterm on Monday and Jimin is up bright and early for his well-awaited first game. His own nerves have shaken him to the point where the jitters can’t stop permeating across his limbs. Even his simple walk to breakfast in the kitchen has a spring in his step, and there’s little he can do to help it.

His routine is a normal one where he does nothing else but take careful bites of the Cheerios. Something light to keep everything down. He even goes for a cup of coffee at the downstairs café, smiling to himself because he’s begun to associate all things caffeinated with you. The smell of roasted coffee grounds and the softness of the shop sends his heart in stutters.

His smile can hardly be contained when he receives a text from you. A simple one that says:

[7:34 AM] y/n <3: good luck today, super star!

He replies:

[7:35 AM] me: you coming today?

But he can only feel his heart sink a little when you respond:

[7:35 AM] y/n <3: can’t. Got work :( kick ass for me alright?

You look over at Taehyung as he rests himself upon the counter, waiting for his caramel macchiato. His knowing smile makes you want to roll your eyes, but he shoves over your iced coffee as the two of you make your way out of your shop. Namjoon, your manager waves you off with a wink. Courtesy of Taehyung’s big mouth about the events that are supposed to transpire today.

Of course, you felt bad for telling Jimin you wouldn’t be able to come to his game. It was almost too cruel from the way he responded with a simple, “Oh. Alright, thanks! Wish you were coming.” All of which was tied together with a small little frowny face that made you frown in return. But before you can mull on it further, your own thoughts encircling you in a shroud of doubt that maybe surprising him was a mistake—after all, the only significance you held in his life was his practice recorder—Taehyung wraps an arm around your shoulders and informs you that there is a good thirty minutes until Jimin is playing and you can quote, “There’s no way in hell we’re missing it.”

And so, you allow your giant of a friend who used to be your height until high school came around, guide you to the familiar rink where a mass of people seemed to be entering in their own garbled excitement to see people ram into each other for a small, plastic puck. The next half-hour passes with ease and it isn’t long until you’re inside. The line itself was quite long so by the time you and Taehyung find decent seats, Jimin’s on the ice, facing off against a school from the next city over. It’s like second nature to him as he eases across the scratched ice, going between the opposing team’s defense to score.

When the puck flies past the goalie, you find yourself screaming next to Taehyung and the rest of the supporting crowd. You feel your own endorphins releasing as if you can feel the excitement of others, and suddenly your chest is on fire as you catch Jimin’s eye because in your own daze, your hearing had forgone Taehyung’s screaming of the hockey player’s name.

The moment you meet Jimin’s eyes feels like magic—as if in slow motion, they seem to form those glorious half-moons, meeting yours to remind you of how much you wanted to come see him. It feels like he may feel the same; the way he meets your gaze and sweeps over you in that split second. And despite the brevity of the contact, you can still see the way he lights up, practically feel it. You’re certain that he’s shining more than ever now that he’s seen you and Taehyung, and you almost want to brush it off as nothing but an elbow to your side suggests other things.

He beams at you, obviously overlooking your glare, “Look! Did you see that? He’s freakin’ elated that you’re here!”

You want to scoff, but you hear another roar of cheers as Jimin rams into the center to keep them from scoring. Instead of answering your family friend, you opt to cheer for the boy on the ice. He continues to shoot and score, some of which were assisted by his teammates Jungkook and Seokjin, and it isn’t long until they’ve won and the crowd’s gone even more wild. 

Taehyung ushers you toward the front, now at the entrance of the rink as you find yourself face to face with the gloriously sweat drenched boy which was apparently his first thought over celebrating with the rest of his teammates. But you hardly have time to acknowledge them when you see that his smile is wider than it’s ever been as he practically hollers, “You made it!!!”

“Ye—”

But you barely manage a word as he wraps his arms around you lifting you from your spot. You can barely even hear the roar of cheers from his teammates or even your own shrieks at the sudden contact but you deny the way you smiling broadly at him. With your hands at his shoulders, he sets you back down and perhaps it’s the adrenaline pumping through both of you or the way he’s looked between your eyes and lingered on your lips longer than normal but you firmly grip his jersey and pull him over to meet your lips.

You love it. You love the way the taste of cherry Gatorade and mint intermingle on your lips, the way he seems to pull you in closer, and even the way he pulls away to his forehead to yours and says, “Holy fuck…” in a low, guttural sound. He blinks for a second to ask, “Was that okay?”

With a grin, you manage a nod and a whisper, “Congrats, super star. It was perfect.”

“You told me you couldn’t make it,” he then says, pulling away to raise a brow at you though his hands remain firmly planted at your hips.

You shrug your shoulders and reply sheepishly, “Surprise?”

He throws his head back and laughs, a sound akin to bells or chimes (whatever is the most beautiful, really) before nodding. “Consider me surprised then.”

“Why? ‘Cuz I’m just that breathtaking?” you say with an ever-growing smile. Your heart is swelling to the size of the moon, and seeing his half-moon eyes is making it even larger.

He nods once again, unable to fight back his own elation as he responds, “Damn right you are. Hell, you’re even up before noon. What a miracle.” After a moment, taken from his need to laugh from the small pout you’ve just given him, he says, “How about I hit the showers and afterwards I take you out?”

“Like on a date?” You blink, heart now thudding louder more than ever. Holy shit...

He nods simply, “Can I...?”

“Of cour—”

“—Of course you can,” Taehyung quips to your left, his boxy grin is more prominent than ever. “Have her home at a reasonable time,” he says with feigned sternness though that soon passes as he pats you two on your shoulders, “and you two are very much welcome.”

Before you or Jimin can get a word in, he’s already disappearing past the double doors and waving you two off. And from the looks of the ice, the next game should be beginning soon so you look to Jimin and formally say, “Well, to answer your question: yes.”

“Great,” he says, pressing a kissing to your nose, “How does boba and hotpot sound?”

“Absolutely wonderful.”

—

It isn’t long until he’s out of the showers and dressed warmly for the outside weather, you glance down at your watch and note that it’s barely breaking eleven. Looking up to see Jimin smiling at you, he even offers you a hand that soon interlaces with your fingers. Whether Taehyung set you two up fully knowing both of your feelings or not seems to be a topic you two decide to discuss later. It goes without saying but you can’t help but thank him for that and for showing you just how nice mornings can be.

The chill air hit your cheeks but the warmth at your side makes you feel contentment. He’s chatting about the best things on the restaurant menu, and when he looks at you, you feel yourself even more grateful for the cold because you’re not sure how much teasing you’ll get from the blond-haired man at your side. (Albeit a small part of you can’t wait to hear it come from him.)

And ultimately, though you’d hate to admit it to Taehyung or even Jimin himself, waking up early isn’t so bad after all.