#but yeah the crust is usually fine enough when warm

[ani-coolgirl]

Red Delicious

Red Delicious

Pairing: Wincest

Prompt: For SPN FanFic Pond's September 2023 prompt: apple picking. Read here on AO3.

Word Count: 2,113

Warnings: incest

There’s a dream Dean has and it goes like this:

The car’s parked under a tree and a checkered picnic blanket, complete with blanket and beer, is spread on the grass beside her. It’s like those dreams he used to have about Lisa, back when he still remembered what a home smelled like and it hadn’t been scrubbed away by Hell and time and reality; except it’s not Lisa there, it’s Sam, and he’s got apple pie.

“Hey,” Sam says. He’s leaning against the car, boots and flannel and all. He stoops to take a plate and cutlery out of the picnic basket to carve out a piece. He licks the knife when he’s done cutting and offers the pie to Dean. “It’s pretty good.”

In the dream, Dean knows the pie’s just not good, it’s excellent. The best pie that’s ever been made. Flaky crust, sweet filling, still warm. The works. The idea of even smelling it makes him nauseous.

“Nah,” Dean says. He’s frozen in place, wanting to go to Sam and knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to take even a single step away. “I’m good.”

Sam frowns. “You sure? It’s from that place over by the orch—”

“I’m sure,” Dean interrupts, and his palms are sweating. “I’m... yeah. It’s fine.”

His brother shrugs. “If you’re sure.” And then Sam starts eating the pie himself with gusto even though in real life his opinions on the dessert are middling at best. Dean watches Sam’s throat bob with each swallow and his lips purse as he sucks on the fork between bites and agonizes. He wants some goddamn pie. Wants it so goddamn bad. But he can’t move.

Sam finishes off his piece with a sigh. He drags his finger around the plate to gather up the escaped filling and sticks it in his mouth. “There’s plenty left,” he advises, tipping the pie tin in Dean’s direction. True to his word, Sam had only cut a modest slice. He’s barely made a dent. “You sure?”

Dean wordlessly shakes his head. Sam sighs as if disappointed then takes the fork to the remaining pie, not bothering with knife or plate. He starts to eat and Dean reaches out—

And that’s when he wakes up. Usually.

*~*

But sometimes it’s like:

The car’s missing, which doesn’t alarm him as much as it should. Sam’s sitting on the picnic blanket, but there’s no basket this time—just the pie and a case of beer. It’s a warm day, so no overshirt, or shoes. Sam’s already eating.

“Want some?” he asks. His fork goes directly into the pie tin without worry. And why should he worry? They’re brothers. They share the same genes, the same germs. They’ve shared off plates before. It’s not forbidden. “It’s pretty good.”

Dean starts to sweat.

“Nah. I’m...” He swallows, watching the tip of Sam’s tongue flick around the tines. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” Sam tilts the pie tin. No clean cuts this time, just a jagged hole where Sam’s been eating his fill.

“I’m good,” Dean repeats firmly and Sam resumes eating. Slowly. Savoring. “But, uh...”

“Yeah?” Sam asks. His mouth shines with spit and apple filling and Dean can’t stop staring.

“Save me some?” Dean requests hesitantly.

“Don’t I always?” his brother replies solemnly. He gathers more pasty on his fork. “You know I don’t like eating alone.”

That’s not true. Sam doesn’t particularly care either way, Dean’s pretty sure. They usually eat together, for expediency’s sake, but it’s not a hard fast rule or anything. It’s not like Dean watches.

“Yeah,” Dean acknowledges vaguely. He can’t move. He should, but he’s not sure which direction. He’s stuck. “Sam—”

He’s met with a blinding smile. Sam doesn’t smile enough these days. “It really is good,” he says with a teasing lit at the end. “Why don’t you have some?”

So Dean reaches out—

And he wakes up. And Sam’s in the other bed snoring away, and there are takeout containers on the motel desk, and the lingering scent of Chinese food; Dean silently vows to stop at the next Mom-and-Pop diner they see and order every pie off the menu because this is getting ridiculous. It’s not like there’s a pie shortage. There’s not reason to be dreaming about it.

That’s what he usually ends up telling himself anyway.

*~*

Occasionally though, it starts like this:

No picnic blanket this time, just grass under a tree, Sam down to his shorts and an undershirt. Dean’s not sure either of them even owns shorts, at least not since they were little. Maybe they’re swim trunks? It’s impossible to tell. He’d have to get closer to look. Dean doesn’t move.

“Hey,” Sam says. There’s no blanket or beer but there is a basket, full of red apples like something out of a fairy tale. Sam’s already taken a bite out of one, cutting a slice off with a knife. Not a kitchen knife; one of their Bowie knives. Juice drips off the tip. “Want one? They’re pretty good.”

Sam takes another slice, sliding off the edge of the shining blade into his mouth. Dean watches, hypnotized. It takes a long time for an answer to come to him. “I don’t eat fruit,” he says with as much incredulity as he can muster. He doesn’t. He would never.

His brother laughs at him. “Now, that’s not true,” Sam says, half-teasing, half-scolding. “You did once.”

Dean sweats. It’s a nice day but he’s scorching, the sun too bright and accusing. “I haven’t.”

“Sure you did. I was sixteen, remember?”

Dean doesn’t remember. Won’t remember. Can’t remember, because there’s nothing to remember. Sam’s crazy. It didn’t go down like that. “No.”

His brother shrugs as if disappointed and devours another slice, slow. Savoring. Dean can’t move a muscle. “You sure? They’re from—”

“I said no!” Dean barks. His mouth snaps shut, shocked by his own vehemence but Sam’s unperturbed.

“Dean,” Sam says patiently. He’s almost down to the core but not finished yet. “Come eat with me.”

Dean shakes his head. He won’t. He wants to, wants to so bad, wants the pierce the shining skin with his teeth, let the juice spill over his tongue and down his throat, gnaw until there’s nothing but stem and seed, but keep going until he gets the last bit of flesh—

“I can’t finish them by myself, Dean,” Sam points out.

“I’m good,” Dean lies, wiping his hands on his jeans. No, not jeans. Shorts. Has he been in shorts this whole time? “No, I’m good.”

Sam chuckles warmly. “Now we both know that’s not true,” he says. “Are you sure?”

Dean’s not sure. He’s never been more unsure in his life. He can’t help but reach out—

And Sam’s eyes meet his from across the motel room. The clock radio is on the floor, shoved from its resting place. Sam blinks slowly at him but not blearily. He’s been awake for a little while, at least.

“You okay?” Sam whispers as Dean fumbles the clock back onto the nightstand.

“I’m good,” Dean whispers back even though there’s no one to disturb. His palms are sweating. “Go back to sleep.”

“You were making noises,” Sam says and even in the dark his eyes are too intense.

“Do you remember Virginia?” Dean asks the ceiling. He can’t look at Sam or else he might move. He won’t run but he won’t move either. “You were sixteen.”

“No,” Sam answers after a moment of thought.

Dean swallows hard. “There was an orchard there. You went after school every day for three weeks.”

He can hear the frown in Sam’s voice when he replies. “Why do you ask?” Sam presses.

Dean rolls over and doesn’t answer; there’s nothing to say. Eventually, the rustle of sheets from the other side of the room tells him Sam has given up, situating himself under the covers. No one brings it up the next morning. They usually don’t.

*~*

But sometimes—too often, more often than he’ll admit—it goes like this:

No cars, no blankets, no baskets. Just the tree. It’s an apple tree. Dean’s not sure how he missed that.

Sam’s nude and unashamed. Dean knows he is the same and refuses to think about it. It’s a nice day in the garden, so clothes would be superfluous.

His brother reaches up and plucks an apple from the nearest branch. He brings it to his face and inhales deeply. Dean sweats as he watches. “I haven’t had one of these since I was sixteen,” Sam sighs and Dean disputes this but doesn’t deny it. Neither of them really took a bite that time so it doesn’t really count. “You want one? They’re so good.”

Not just good. The best, the goddamn best. So mouth-wateringly delectable that he’s been dreaming about it for over a decade and he didn’t even get a taste.

Dean can’t even open his mouth to lie this time. He’s not good. He just shakes his head.

Sam takes a bite and the crunch-snap of it is like a firecracker in Dean’s ear but the appreciated moan that follows it is a gunshot to the brain. He can’t wipe the sweat from his palms but there’s nothing to wipe on—there’s only skin. Sam is miles and miles of skin. He tears into the red skin of the fruit like a carnivore and juice dribbles down his chin, down miles and miles of skin. Sam swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs from the intrusion. “So good,” Sam repeats with a groan. Dean tries so very hard to be ashamed of his nakedness.

They lock eyes. Sam holds the fruit out as he licks his lips. “I can’t finish this alone, Dean.”

Dean tries to speak but he only croaks. There’s nowhere to run. There’s nowhere to hide. He wants to take a step but he can’t. He shouldn’t. He won’t. Back then at the orchard and now he promised himself he wouldn’t.

Sam’s eyes are dark and sad. “Don’t make me eat this alone,” he whispers.

“I—” Dean tries and falters. I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want any. I’m good, I swear I’m good.

“There are so many and I want them all, Dean,” Sam continues, voice low and desperate. “I want it all, but not without you.” As if to demonstrate, he takes another bite and Dean whimpers as he watches. Squirms in place. Innocent but not guiltless. Sam sucks his fingers clean and they’re barely out of his mouth when he says, “Please?”

And how can a man be expected to say no to that?

So Dean reaches out and does not wake. He takes a step. Two. Then Sam’s got an arm wrapped around his middle, guiding the apple to his lips.

“Just one bite,” he encourages. “Just one, just a taste—”

So Dean bites down and it’s sugar and sun and sin, and Sam urges him along, runs his thumb along the corner of Dean’s mouth as he devours his prize, chasing spilled juice and he pops the digit between his lips when he finds some and sighs; and Dean’s not sweating, he’s scorching, he baking alive, he wants more, he wants every fruit, every tree, he wants to shove every forbidden piece down his throat until he chokes, and as he chews and swallows, Sam trails his fingers over miles and miles of skin, up and down, down, down—

And he wakes. Sam stands over his bed in a t-shirt and boxers, hair mused, and looking darkly thoughtful. “Apple orchard. Virginia,” he says. Dean doesn’t speak which is fine because Sam is not done. “I worked there after school for some spare change. They paid me in produce but I didn’t mind. You didn’t like me going there. You followed me once to tell me off.”

Dean shakes his head. That’s not why he went here. He Sam was finally starting to fill out and hauling around buckets of heavy fruit all day helped gently tease muscles out of lithe limbs and Dean wanted to see him on one of those ladders, straining to reach—

“You pinned me to a tree,” Sam says. “For a long time.”

Too long. Not long enough. Dean’s palms sweat but he’s calm. They’d both been so hard, like he is now. He doesn’t check if Sam is.

“You ran off.”

There’s nowhere to run now. Sam licks his lips nervously and they shine with spit. Dean’s hungry and he knows what lies before him is so goddamn good. So goddamn sweet.

“Not running now,” Dean replies roughly.

Sam stares. He wipes his hands on his boxers. He reaches out—

[dinomite2]

Female Agent 8 x male reader relationship headcanons

Yay ! Another Agent 8 x reader fic !

also what month do think side order going to release it said that it was going to be released sometime in spring so think March to April is a good time

Featuring: female Agents 4 & 3

● when 8 got out of the surface after a few months after she got out the deep sea metro defeated Commader Tarter she settled in for a new home at inkopolis Square to meet new people and to have fun in turf wars and ranked battles and so far things have been normal for her

● That was until 8 met you for the first time in the middle of inkopolis Square she was about to get a the new Quadruple fried Cosmic Shwaffle Meal from the crust bucket, but she didn't have a ticket for it since it was very rare ticket to get

● But luckily you were nice and lucky enough to get the ticket and share with her and you two ate together ,started to know about each other and what you do and quick became friends

● Your usual activities together would either be mainly just hanging out together and uncommonly at times you'd either see one or both of 8's friends Aka Agent 3 and Agent 4 and both of them are mysterious wonders to see

● we start with who seems to be the most rowdy of the two Agent 4 when she First Met you She was a friendly fellow but at times she'd be strangely and jokingly flirty with you and it mostly happen at random times but Don't worry 3 will take care of her if things go weird

"And that how it takes 6.79 seconds to refill a ink tank with no ink recovery up while it takes exactly 4.19 to fill up with ink recovery up everyone got that? " 3 said questioning 4, 8 and You

"Yep!" 8 said happily

"Yeah" you said giving a smile and a thumbs up

"Y/n would fill up my ink tank in 3 seconds~"

"4!" 8 groaned and covered her face looking down while blushing you did the same too keeping a straight face while blushing wildly while 4 just sat laid back with a smug smile on her face

3 threw her shoe Mach speed at 4 after she said that

● And secondly we have Agent 3 who's not a bad gal herself but she takes care of both 4 and 8 while also keeping a close eye on you, and making sure that your not taking advantage over any of them

●and by that a friend group was made ! And everything had gone swell for awhile hanging out and having lots of fun and doing lots of turf wars Until 8 started to show more "feelings" for you

● she blushed whenever you looked at her she stuttered 8 when was talking to you, when she looked at you from afar she looked at you with a wavy smile on her face and would sometimes do REALLY stupid stuff to try and to impress you

"um 8 are you sure about this this doesn't look safe" you said looking at 8 holding a VERY spicy pepper

"I'm a trained agent Y/n I can handle anything" 8 said with high amounts of confidence as she ate the pepper

.

"See nothing happened im fine" 8 said As her entire body was sweating and slowly starting to turn entirely red

"is sweating excessively and your body becoming red count as normal?" You questioned

"Nope I'm still fine" she said with a strained smile and was now melti- WAIT MELTING!?

"OH COD 8 now you're melting now do you want me to get 3!?"

"don't worryyyy" she said melting into a puddle of herself eyes and mouth separated like 3 cereal pieces in a bowlful of milk

"I'm getting 3 " You said walking backwards looking at the liquidfied agent 8

● and while this frantic loveshowing was in tow 3 and 4 both took notice of this and eventually found out that 8 has a crush on you!

● And 8 couldn't really hold her secret to 3 and 4 as it was eventually found True so they planned to teach 8 how to show her feelings toward you By a beautiful picnic date!

(I took this pic during the start of a big run/splatfest)

It was a crisp night on top of a hill up standing there was a tree plastered with warm colored lights and under there was picnic carpet, basket and a boombox and 8 sitting as she was waiting for you to come thanks the invitation that 3 gave you hiddenly.

"Um guys are you sure this will work?" 8 said questioning 3 and 4 on her hidden mic

"Don't worrrrrry 8 me and 3 will guide you through " 4 said reassuring 8

"And ill make sure she doesn't say anything STUPID "

"Ok ok geez I won't, look! He's coming greet him!"

"Hey 8! What's up you invited me here?"

"Uh-h hello cmon over !" 8 said blushing as you both sat down on the picnic Blanket she then pulled out a disk and placed it into the boombox

(Ost/video not mine) (also new fav music ever man)

"ohh pop 'n' schlock that's my favorite! How did you know ?" You said questioning 8

"I-ii heard from 4, uhm want a drink?" 8 said quickly pulling out a bottle of fruit punch

"Yeah I will !" You said picking up a cup

8 poured the punch into your cup and then you drank it

"Ok you're doing good Now complment him, say that you have pretty eyes " instructed 8

"Ok, um Y/n"

"Yeah?"

"I have pretty eyes "

"Uh yeah they're nice -they're" You said feeling a bit awkward about what 8 just said looking away

"No not yours his !" 3 said into the mic

" Oh! I meant you have pretty eyes not mine ok mine work" 8 Said embarrassingly

"So 8 why did you invite me you wanted to say something?"You said As pop 'n' schlock was playing

"Ok now tell him how you feel"

"Ok uh-m Y/n I like you"

"Yeah and I like you too"

"No I meant a bit more than that I love you Y/n i had a crush on you since we met"

"Oh uh well um uh i" you blushed while looking away until 8 kissed you on the cheek causing you to blush even more

"Well I'm great you showed your feelings to me 8"

And done SORRY MAN for the massive wait it was supposed to be done in the early December but I caught up on school, Christmas and my own laziness a three distraction combo lol

Also requests haven't been coming in for the past few weeks so if can request.... plz i need something else to do for Christmas break

Anyway enjoy!

[yngseung]

yongseung fact of the day! he accidentally went one bus stop ahead of where he was supposed to get off, and had to walk to his shop. it was so hot he thought to himself ‘i’ll have to fend off this heat with bingsu!’ and then he got to the shop and it was nice and refreshing and cool. ‘i’ll fight off the heat w bingsu another day’ was his conclusion

[wearywinchester]

At Last

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a long visit with family, you return home to the one you find yourself thinking about most.

Requested by Anonymous: “If your requests are still open, think you feel like doing something where the reader is visiting with her family, and they get along fine but her family stays up too late partying and drinking meanwhile reader just wants to go home and cuddle with Dean? Thnx hon :) if requests are not open, feel free to ignore”

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, fluff, kissing

You let out a sigh as you sit back against the seat of your car, the bunkers garage quiet as you sat there for a moment. It was just past midnight, your body fatigued from the day you’d had but it was good nonetheless. It was good, but you were happy to be home by the end of it.

Your family had been in town, something they always did twice a year and you were fortunate the get-together’s had been so close to home. You loved them dearly, they were a lively crowd and they always were, but it was a quality you found you couldn’t quite keep up with no matter how much time you spent together.

Once it hit ten o’clock that night, you found yourself growing tired, the hours of socializing having started to wear on you despite how good of a time you’d had that day. You were full from dinner, the Kansas heat having still had its hold despite the sun having gone down. Then eleven o’clock rolled around just as quickly, the group still having been just as full of energy as they’d had been the entirety of that day as a new pack of beers had been tapped into.

You wouldn’t say you couldn’t handle staying up late, you were used to late night trips for hunts and hours of research but you found that to be different now. You were tired, and you couldn’t think of anything better than going home to Dean.

Presently, you found yourself in the very place you’d longed to be, home.

You twisted the key and turned the car off, switching off the lights before getting out. The sight of the Impala sitting pretty in its usual parking spot had you smiling softly, had your heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of the Winchester in particular that it belonged to. He was just paces away now, and you felt you couldn’t be happier.

Hanging your keys on the hook by the door, you stepped up into the bunker, closing the old wooden door behind you. The lights had since been dimmed in the hall, the whole place quiet save for the sound of your footfalls. Quiet save for the metallic clinks sounding loudly when you trip over the trash can sitting by the door in the hall.

Your eyes fall closed as your cheeks burn at the sheer noise, nose scrunched at the echo on the walls as you stand there for a moment. The silence in the bunker was near deafening after that, a huff leaving your lips when you bend over and stand it upright once more.

The first thing you noticed after your clumsy accident was the smell, the burning smell sitting high in the air with a hint of apple and cinnamon mingling in with it. It was something that led you to the kitchen first, your brow raising as you turned the main light on. There were no traces of anything on the counters, nothing on the floor, not even a dish in the sink save for Dean’s mug. It was the oven that initially gave it away, that very same smell wafting your way once you opened the door.

With that, you spun on your heel, eyes landing on the garbage can standing alone by the stainless steel kitchen island. You stepped on the pedal and watched as the lid lifted up, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. It was then that you saw the burnt remains of what looked to be pie crust, the cinnamon coated apple slices having splayed and mixed with it at the bottom of the back. A soft laugh left your lips, your head shaking.

You switched off the light on your way out, your smile still lingering at the thought of Dean Winchester trying, and failing, to bake a pie.

You let the lid to the trash can fall, a voice sound behind you abrupt enough to make you jump.

“Who’s there?”

You spun on your heel, breath hitching in the first second and your eyes rolling in the next. “Your gun, Dean. Really?”

He lowers it and tucks it back in the belt of his jeans, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “What? Gotta take my precautions, sweetheart. Besides, don’t I look cool when I do that?”

Your pursed lips turn to a smile, one very much giving away the fact that something teasing was on the very tip of your tongue. He knows that for a fact, his smile fading in realization. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

There it is.

His eyes roll as his lips purse, an expression he finds he can’t hold with what he’s got next. “I knew who it was. There’s only one person who can trip over that trash can no matter how far out of the way it is.”

Your frown is immediate, brows knit together as he tips his head back to laugh.

“Not funny, Winchester,” you huff, walking into his arms as they envelope you in the very embrace you’d been thinking about ever since you left that day.

It was tight and warm, near bone crushing as he all but lifted you off your feet. Your frown was quick to dissolve in favor of a smile, one that was squished against his chest as your cheek pressed to flannel and Henley all smelling every bit like Dean and a hint like his favorite fabric softener. His cheek rested atop your head, squeezing you even tighter if that’d been possible.

“Did you have a good time?” He asks, voice softer as the teasing in his tone fell away.

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes falling closed for a moment. “Tired is all.”

“You missed me, didn’t you?” He chuckles.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Winchester,” you mumble, your smile in your voice. You could feel his laughter some more then, your grip loosening to look up at him. “‘M serious.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll bet you are,” he hums, dipping down and pressing his lips on yours. It was soft and sweet, something paired with his hug that you found you missed more than you’d ever admit even if you were apart for only a few hours.

He parts for a moment at the feel of your laughter brushing against his lips, kissing you once, twice, three more times before his intrigue gets the better of him. He pulls back to look at you, brow raised in his curiosity as the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“When were you going to tell me you tried to bake a pie?” You ask, your grin teasing.

He lets out a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck, turning his head away from you for just a moment or two. You can see he’s just the slightest bit embarrassed by his blunder and the smell that made it hard to forget, more so when you’re giving him that look that lets him know you’re not letting him live it down. But the look he gives you then softens from the scrunch it once was, his tongue swiping across his lips.

“I uh,” he starts, heaving a sigh, “I tried to bake you a pie for when you got home. Turns out I’m not Rachael Ray.”

“Does Rachael Ray even bake?” You ask, eyes squinting as you pretend to think it over.

“Oh shut it,” he says with a smile, kissing you once more before you can say another word.

You leaned up on your toes and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your smile pressing against his lips and mingling warmly with his own. His stubble was rough against your skin, something that only widens the smile you’ve got as your hand settles in his cheek, another soft kiss pressed to his lips.

“That was sweet, De. I mean it.”

He’s got that smile on his face when you stand flat on your feet once more, that smile that’s all kinds of soft and sweet, that smile that’s been reserved solely for you. The one that he swears is just coincidence because he swears he’s this gruff, tough guy, and while he is—he’s also the softest at heart and that’s something he can’t argue with you on.

He takes notice of your yawn, of the tiredness in your eyes as you look at him and he chuckles.

“Alright, sleepyhead, c’mon,” he says, spinning in his heel and walking ahead with a loose grip on your hand as he turned the kitchen light off on his way out of the room.

It was comfortably quiet as you walked in the hall, the only sound having been the thud of his boots and the quieter thud of yours. It was just that until you approached your room, the familiar golden eleven sitting shining on the wooden door.

You could hear the tv filter out into the hall, muffled until he’d opened the door. The lamp was on as it sat on the nightstand, the blankets on the bed folded back and ready for you to climb under them. Your favorite show had been on, partway through a rerun episode, the show Dean insisted he hated though you knew better than to believe that even for a minute.

You were quick to step out of your boots, and change from your jeans as Dean did the same. He shrugged off his flannel and extended his arm out to you, a knowing smile on his lips. You took the shirt from his hand in an instant, a grin of your own forming as you pulled it on in place of your shirt, fastening a couple of the buttons before getting in bed.

His shirt was warm as it blanketed around you, the faint smell of his cologne having lingered on the fabric. But, it was no match for the man sitting down next to you.

His arm circled around your waist within moments of him getting in bed, quick to tug you in close as you got comfortable on his chest, leg swinging to rest over his waist. He let out a content hum, his smile soft as it sat pretty on his lips.

This was the very thing you’ve been longing for the moment you left that day, the thing you found yourself thinking about more often than not. Because this, moments like these, they were ones that mattered most to you and moments you held onto each and every time they happened.

His arm was heavy around you, the tips of his fingers brushing absentmindedly over your arm as he watched tv. It wasn’t until you looked up at him that he met your gaze, no matter how tired you were. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips, lingering and soft.

“Night, De,” you mumble against his lips, kissing him once more before dipping down to lay back on his chest.

You felt the press of his lips on your forehead, the scratch of his stubble against your skin. “Night, sweetheart.”

After a long day, you were right where you wanted to be at last.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @lanea-1

[unsupervisedpanda]

AFTER after school hours

Void! Stiles x reader

You woke up to the sound of water running. Groaning you tried to push yourself up, only to yelp at the pain that seemed to awaken with you.

   Flopping back down you realized you were lying down on a couch, with a blanket over you.

   Glancing around the room you saw there was a little light coming in through a crack left by the ajar door.

   Grimacing you prepared to get up.

   "One. Two. Three." Breathing out you rolled over off of the couch. You hissed at the pain that radiated from the movement.

   "Son of a bitch." You swore before standing up. The adrenaline was gone so now all you were left with was the pain in your side.

    "Hello?" You called out as you waddled towards the light. When you didn't receive a response you pushed the door open. Now you knew it was the bathroom, and holy hell.

   Inside stood Void, with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

   "Shit! You're supposed to be laying down!" He swore as he turned around.

   "I think that's the least of your worries. I think all of my blood just rushed up to my head." You whispered feeling wobbly.

   Turning to face you he sauntered forward smiling.

   "You're not supposed to pass out at the sight of me." He laughed as he steadied you.

   "Yeah well you didn't tell me you were hot." You mumbled putting your forehead to his chest.

   His laughter was a deep sound and shook his chest.

   "Right, because I had the time to be like 'oh by the way I'm hot' and that was my biggest worry." He chuckled pushing your hair back.

   "Yeah I guess, but now your biggest worry is me passing out." You laughed .

   "You passing out would be better compared to what I'm dealing with." Void reassured.

  "Although I would like to get you back to bed." He said pulling you away.

   "Dude, you can't say that when you're practically naked." You hissed as you hid in your hands.

   "Sorry sorry. How about this. You go back to the couch and I get dressed?" He laughed as he tugged the black shirt over his head.

   "Unless you want a full visual of what's underneath?" He teased, the smirk curling onto his lips.

   "I wouldn't complain but I think my brain is fried as is so," you backed up into the door," I'm just gonna go... Get a glass of water." You squeaked.

   You could hear his laughter as you slid out of the bathroom into what you now assumed was the living room.

   Kitchen. You needed to find the kitchen.

   Looking around you realized that you were in a, you guessed, 3rd floor apartment. There was a bay window, pillows and a few blankets that decorated it and the dark curtains were open so you could see the rain drops on the clear surface.

   There was a TV set up and a couch facing it with the blanket you woke up with still on it. The bathroom was about 10 feet away from the couch, to the right of the window.

     There was another, open entrance that opened into a hallway,  with 1 entrance and 3 doors. You walked into the entrance, to the left of the hall, thankful for the nightlight. 

    Walking inside your fingers grazed along the right side of the wall, looking for the light switch.

   "Wrong side." You jumped turning around and swinging.

   Thwip!

  "Shit!" Void swore holding his nose.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry. I didn't, are you okay?" You asked, wincing yourself.

   "Fine. I'm fine. I didn't expect you to hit so hard though." He laughed, sounding muffled from holding his nose.

    "Neither did I. Spinning around like that hurt, too." You whined before turning to the left to switch on the light.

  Click!

Lifting up your shirt you wrinkled your nose.

   "I got shanked?" You hissed looking at the now bloody bandage.

   Wait. Wait.

  "This isn't my shirt." You stated dropping the shirt back down. 

   "No. Your shirt was bloody and gross. I gave you one of mine." He smirked pulling you towards him by the hem.

   "And it looks great if I do say so myself." Looking up at him you suddenly realized just how close the two of you were.

   "Right. Uhm. How long has it been since, y'know?" You muttered under your breath.

   "Two days."

  "Two days! I've been out of it and here for two days?!" You whisper yelled.

    "You did get stabbed. And used some of my power." He explained calmly.

   "I what!" Your eyes widened.

  "I panicked a little when I saw the Pup yank you up and drop you so I did something a little extreme. You're fine though!" He smiled at you.

   "Yeah. You're right... IF FINE MEANS FREAKING OUT!" You screeched.

   He laughed at you before pulling you into his chest.

   "You're fine because you're with me. However we do have some things to sort out. First though you wanted something to drink." He grinned at you pulling your hand as he directed you to the counter.

   Letting go of your hand he turned around and lifted you onto the counter.

   "What would you like? Tea? Water? Soda?" He asked as he poked his head into the fridge.

  "Uhm (drink choice). Please." He nodded quickly pulling it out and grabbing a glass. He poured some out for you.

   "Sorry for scaring you." He smiled handing the glass to you.

   "Sorry for punching you in the face." You murmured taking the glass.

    "We'll just call it a draw." He nodded before pouring himself a glass.

   "How's the pain?" He asked a few moments later nodding toward your side.

   "It could be worse considering. I'm just glad it didn't go all the way through." You said sipping from the drink.

    "Fair enough." He spoke before walking over to you, placing the glass a few inches from your hip.

    "May I?" He asked, and you nodded.

   He pulled up the shirt and took a look at the bandage again. After inspecting it he muttered a few things under his breath.

   "Stay here. I'll be back." Turning around he shuffled back towards the bathroom, returning moments later with gauze, antibiotic ointment, an ace wrap, and anti-peroxide.

   "Oh hell no!" You yelped going to jump off the counter.

   "Y/n chill. I'm not gonna use it unless I have to!" He exclaimed almost dropping the gauze and wrap.

   "That devils liquid hurts." You hissed glaring at the bottle.

   "I know, but would you calm down, please." He laughed setting the items down on the counter beside the sink.

   "Lift up your shirt for me, please." He smiled.

   You gave him a smoldering look before lifting up the shirt. He began by pulling the wrap away, his arms wrapping around you as he switched hand to hand.  When that was done he gave you an apolegetic look.

   "I'm gonna have to pull the gauze off. That will pull at your skin, which will cause irritation." He warned you.

   You breathed a heavy sigh, tucking the shirt under your bra.

   Void gave you a confused look and then his eyes widened.

   "Wait-" too late.

  You yanked the gauze off in a quick motion and then yelped.

   "Just like a band aid." You choked as you laughed in pain.

    He looked at you like you were crazy before inspecting the injury that was now uncovered.

  It was a bright red with crusted blood surrounding it. The bruising around it was yellow and purple. It looked gross. Really gross. Although it did look like Void had stitched it up.

   "You stitch?" You asked as you lightly prodded at the stab mark.

   "Not usually." He admitted before pulling the gauze out.

   "Well looks pretty good to me." You nodded in approval and he laughed.

   "What?" You asked tilting your head.

  "My 'professional' stitching kept you from bleeding out if that's what you mean." He replied smearing the antibiotic ointment onto the gauze.

   "Right well I'm still up and kicking aren't I?" You laughed.

   He nodded before his faced turned somber.

  "I'd like to clean it. Properly." You glanced at him and then at the brown bottle.

   "It'll hurt." You whined.

"You just ripped off the original bandaging and you're worried about this?" He shook the bottle, the liquid sloshing inside.

   "Well.... Ripping off a bandaid is quick. That," you pointed at the bottle accusingly, "isn't quick or painless."

   He glanced at the bottle and then at you, his eyebrows raising.

   "Y/n it'll be quick and mostly painless." He promised before opening the bottle.

   "Void!" You shrieked as he stepped forward.

  He dumped some of the liquid onto another piece of gauze before trapping you onto the counter.

  "Stay still." He whispered before kissing you.

  You gasped when his lips met yours. His lips were warm, chapped, and brushed yours in a way that made your stomach flip.

   Lifting your hands up you wrapped your arms around his neck. You felt his hand move to your waist but didn't notice what he was doing until it was done.

   Gasping you went to pull away, but he held your lips to his with his other hand.

   Then he pulled away.

"See. Quick and mostly painless." He smiled kissing your forehead.

   You reached up touching your lips before glancing back at him. 

   "You sneaky fox!" You exclaimed smacking him.

"Hey it's better to have it cleaned up then let it get infected, trust me." He laughed as he grabbed the gauze from the counter.

"I mean yeah but holy hell." You sighed.

Stepping forward he pressed the gauze with the ointment on it onto your wound.

"Alls well that ends well." He nodded as he began to wrap your waist.

Tugging it tightly he tied it off.

"All better." He approved pulling your shirt back down.

"So we're not just gonna scoot past that, are we?" You asked lifting a brow.

"I mean do you want to..." He leaned forward, tilting your face up to his.

"Trick question." You whispered before yanking him into you.

You both burst into laughter when you pulled him too hard and he fell into you, causing you to slam into the cupboard behind you. Shaking his head at you he pulled you back to him, by your thighs.

Then he kissed you softly and passionately, smiling into your lips.

"Bossy." He chuckled when he pulled away.

"Bossy." You agreed.

This is the part 2 to after school hours. I don't know if it's what you would have wanted but I decided some fluff was in order

[pascalpanic]

The Graveyard Shift (Frankie Morales x gn!reader)

Summary: Frankie works overnight shifts at the local mechanic. Tonight, both of you are awake at a late hour.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, food and eating, talk of not being able to sleep, otherwise fluff

A/N: this idea has been in my head all week I had to! Hope you like it :)

Frankie may be a real insomniac, but tonight you’re feeling like he might have rubbed off on you. Your bed is normally your favorite place, your haven and escape from life. It’s a place to rest and cuddle your teddy bear of a boyfriend, where you can close your eyes and let go of reality.  Unfortunately, that glorious disconnect from reality isn’t finding you tonight. You toss and turn in your bed for what feels like hours. Who knows how long it really is?

You try laying on your side. On your back. On your stomach. Legs sprawled out, with no Frankie in the bed to occupy your space. Still, nothing is comfortable. You’re cold without the blankets and hot with them on. The pillows are flat or too squishy. Nothing works.

Frankie’s on the night shift tonight, leaving your bed empty enough for you to toss and turn. Your boyfriend works as a mechanic at a local 24-hour garage, and every week or so he takes the overnight shift. It’s just part of the job. Of course, you don’t mind; he does what he has to. The only downside is the chill in your bed where Frankie’s warm body usually lies.

You try to avoid your phone, checking your alarm clock for the time rather than looking at the blue light and messing up any more chances you have at sleep. But then an hour progresses, and another, and now it’s 1:20 in the morning and sleep is nowhere to be found. You give in and check your phone, sighing.

Frankie can’t possibly be busy. The shop rarely ever gets a car after the sun sets, but it’s worth it to be the only shop in the area open at night. It means more business when someone’s in desperate need. You know he’s awake, and the odds of a car being in the shop now are slim. Maybe talking with him will help you fall asleep.

Deciding to give it a shot, you call his phone. It rings for a few moments, then continues and finally you reach his voicemail, hearing his gentle voice announcing that he’ll call you right back. You frown and set it down only for the phone to ring again. It’s him.

“Hey, babe,” Frankie’s voice speaks through the phone. He sounds tired. Well, you suppose it’s natural. It’s late at night, even if Frankie is practically nocturnal. “Sorry. My hands were covered in grease so I had to wash them before I picked up. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good,” you inform him, your voice groggy from the lack of sleep you’ve found despite hours of lying here. “Just can’t sleep. How’s work?”

You can hear a metallic clanking as he moves some tools around. “Fine. Just a usual night shift, working on this car that’s an absolute piece of shit. Got oil all over myself.”

The thought makes you smile; Frankie’s grumpy face when something goes wrong, the sigh of exasperation as those dark blue coveralls are stained dark with the car’s oil. “Good job, babe.”

Frankie is rolling his eyes on the other end. You can tell. “Really great job, yeah. How are things at home?”

“Same here. Nothing exciting. Just… can’t sleep and missing you.”

“Missing you too. God, it’s so boring here,” he groans. “I’ll finish this car pretty damn quick then have nothing to do all night. And I’m so goddamn hungry.”

Your eyes light up with an idea and you’re silent as you ponder the idea, long enough for Frankie to be concerned. “What is it?”

“Can I come visit you?” You ask him, a grin crossing your sleepy face. Your eyes are still shut from the weight they carry right now, but your face is clearly happy. “I’ll bring food.

There’s a frown on his face; that much you know for certain. “Babe, it’s late. You should sleep.”

“Francisco, for the love of God. I’m awake right now because I can’t fall asleep. Would you mind a visitor?”

He sighs but you know you’ve won. It makes you smile even wider as you clutch a pillow to your chest. He can barely get the words out before you interrupt. “Great! What are you hungry for?”

There’s another beat of quiet as he thinks. “Let’s order a pizza.”

Late night pizza: Frankie’s biggest weakness besides you. “Perfect. You put in the order and I’ll be there soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too. See you then.” Frankie hangs up.

No one else will be around. You know Frankie works these late shifts alone, so you don’t bother to put on anything nicer. Pushing back the covers and bracing for the chill, you stand and slide on a pair of shoes, allowing your pajamas to suffice.

The air is cold as you leave your shared home, and at the last second you grab one of Frankie’s flannels and wrap yourself in it. The night air is chilly around you, the dark sky contrasting the bright lights as you turn on your car. Teeth chattering from the cold, and turning down the air conditioning in your car, you set out on your route to Frankie’s workplace.

There’s no one else on the road besides a spare car or two flying past, neglecting to turn off their high beams for you. It doesn’t matter; if anything, it wakes you up more. When you finally park outside of the building, you rub your eyes desperately hard in hopes of waking yourself up more. It doesn’t really work, but you pretend it does as you pocket your keys and walk inside.

“Hi, I’m here for an oil change?” You call out teasingly into the large garage, entering through an open bay.

Frankie rolls out from beneath a car on a dolley, eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Don’t even bring that up now.” He sits up, removes his earbuds, and unsnaps the top half of his coveralls, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. He removes his gloves and meets you halfway into the garage, kissing you softly and laughing as the brim of his hat bumps against your forehead. “Hey, cutie.”

“Hi,” you beam, kissing him once more. “You look hot in this. Very Danny Zuko.”

“Mhm, and this piece of shit is Greased Lightning,” he laughs and pats the hood of the car he was previously beneath. It’s ugly, brown in color and rusted with a grungy looking interior. “I don’t know why they don’t just scrap this thing. It’s not worth the money.”

Your arms remain wrapped around Frankie’s middle, resting your head against his shoulder as you admire the crappy car. “Honestly, I gotta agree,” you laugh and nudge his side so the two of you can move closer to a workbench. “Here.” You offer him the crappy blanket you brought to sit on. “Tell me the best place to set up.”

“Right here, really,” Frankie shrugs and unfolds the blanket, laying it down over the oil-stained concrete. “You get comfortable. I’ll go put on a clean pair of coveralls.” He kisses your head as you sit cross-legged on the blanket, pulling his flannel tighter around yourself. “And stop stealing my clothes!” He calls over his shoulder before retreating into the back.

“You know you love it!” You shout back with a laugh, leaning against the side of the beat-up car.

Out of nowhere, the radio in the shop starts playing. It’s loud, making you jump at the sound of the KISS song that starts blasting. With that, Frankie returns from the back, wearing a clean pair of blue coveralls with that embroidered Catfish patch over his heart. His curls peek out from beneath his cap, and he scratches at the scruff of his beard. “Way to scare the shit out of me!”

“Sorry,” he laughs, adjusting the volume back down from the garage control before making his way over to you. “Just thought we could use some music.”

“I guess,” you grumble, though it’s clear there’s no ill will when he sits next to you and you nuzzle into his side, sighing as he drapes his arm across your shoulders. “Didn’t have to freak me out like that though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs and kisses your head, leaning back against the car too and letting his head fall back.

No sooner do the two of you get comfortable, nestled into each other’s arms and taking a breath of relaxation, is there a knock at the glass. It’s the pizza delivery, a guy who looks exhausted, just like most normal people would be at this hour. “Be right back.” Frankie kisses your nose and stands, groaning as his joints creak and his back pops.

“Grandpa.” You tease with a grin.

“Stuff it.”

He pays for the order, giving the delivery guy a generous tip for delivering food at this hour of night. Frankie returns with the box and you shimmy in happiness as he opens the box and the smell of the pizza wafts out of the cardboard.

Frankie pulls over a rolling dolley to set the food on, at least somewhat like a table. “Your fine dining experience, my love,” he chuckles as he sets down the box and a stack of napkins next to it. He sits across from you, once again groaning as he makes himself sit cross-legged to match you.

Taking a hold of the crust, you pull out a large slice, the cheese pulling from the center of the pizza. Sighing happily, you tear the cheese apart and pile it on top of the fully-topped pizza, complete with Frankie’s go-to order. Waiting for him and humming to the song, you finally take a bite when he does.

Both of you moan in happiness, laughing a little as each realizes that the other did the same. Once your mouthful of pizza has been swallowed, you grin at Frankie and he grins back. The shop is quiet, the dull rhythm of the oldies station playing in the background. There are no words, but there’s no need for them.

Frankie finishes his slice at about the same time as you, and your hands bump as you both reach for another piece, the one loaded with toppings. “Back off, Morales,” you laugh and swat his hand away, though your hand instantly moves for another piece.

“No, you can have it,” he says, brow furrowing as you leave the piece alone.

“It’s yours. You’re the one working; you deserve it.”

He knows you inside and out. He knows that there’s no arguing when you’ve made the decision, so he takes the piece with a loving “thank you”.

It takes hardly any time for either of you to finish the second piece. Leaning back against the car, your eyes finally shut and you sigh in relaxation. You have food, you have Frankie, and finally you’re starting to get tired. “What time is it now?”

“Late. You can sleep if you want.”

“I’m not tired,” you bluff, though your body slumps against the car, head falling to the side.

Frankie just shrugs and munches on another piece. He can’t help but smile at the sight: you’re in your pajamas and his flannel, falling asleep on the floor of the mechanic shop. He certainly never expected to see such a sight, but he grins at how cute you look like this.

By the time Frankie’s third slice is gone, you’re half-asleep, barely conscious, body holding what little tension and energy you have left. Frankie just leans back, watching you, still smiling at the sight.

He can see it happen when you finally do fall asleep. The tension in your back drifts away, your body slumping down against the car. Your face, which was scrunched in concentration of trying to stay awake, finally slips into the neutrally peaceful state of sleep.

Frankie closes the pizza box, standing and bringing it to the back. He can have some more later if he’s hungry; if not, he’ll send it home with you- later. For now, you need to rest.

His knees and back scream at him as he bends down, but Frankie squats in front of you and wakes you. “Hey, baby. You fell asleep. Come on, get on up and I’ll take you to the couch in the back.”

Your sleep-addled state doesn’t let you argue. You stand, still half-asleep, using Frankie’s hands to help you up. He wraps the clean side of the blanket around you, almost like a burrito, but leaves your legs enough room to walk. Holding onto your arm, so that you don’t trip thanks to your barely-opened eyes, he leads you to the break room in the back.

The old leather couch is beat up and worn, scratched and occasionally ripped from tools left in back pockets and too many years of careless plopping down after a long shift. Frankie makes sure your blanket is swaddled tightly around you and helps you lay down, chuckling at the burrito you make on the couch.

Frankie bends down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll be here if you need me. Just sleep now, babe.”

You murmur something in response, something that might’ve resembled words if you weren’t already fading out again.

Frankie doesn’t go too far, just across the room to the computer. He fires up the machine to check out the schedule for tomorrow, what the store needs to order more of, the usual. The thing that makes it better, maybe even enjoyable, are your soft snores from the couch behind him.

-

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[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Saturday, 08:10

Song: Her - Five Minutes

The sun comes out.

It had risen hours ago with Sander, but also like him had then tucked itself away, making its ascent behind a flurry of dense clouds. Now Sander watches as the last wisps slither aside and reveal the full circle.

It hasn’t been up quite long enough to warm the concrete roof Sander sits on. He’d thought, rightly, to grab his jacket before slipping out around an hour prior, and he’s grateful for the tough leather now. He hadn’t bothered bringing his camera, so his hands are also safely tucked into his pockets. He doesn’t need any more photographs of this view than he already has.

He likes it fine like this. To just sit and see. He doesn’t need to capture it. To have it exist in this moment is enough.

Being so high up likely doesn’t help with the chill, but this is one of Sander’s favourite spots. He’d been pleased, the day one of his professors took their class to one of the older buildings in the academy and climbed the back stairs right to the top. They’d had to capture this scene that day. The sun glinting amidst the clouds, the clouds obscuring the tops of some of the area’s highest buildings, and all the life going on down below. Even now there are a few students milling around there, heading to their studios early or meeting fellow classmates, and interspersed is the honk of morning traffic, the hustle and bustle of a world just beginning to wake.

Sander is apart from all of it. The sun is slanting a ray solely for him; the beings below are tiny specks of colour splashed amidst the gray; the level of the world he’s entered is quiet, aside from the music lilting lightly in his ears.

He had been even more pleased that day to notice none of his fellow classmates had paid much attention to the roof itself, but simply focused on the task at hand. He had wondered how such a perfect place of solace wasn’t already constantly occupied, especially when it could be so easily accessed by a whole school of art students. He hadn’t thought he would be able to make it his own.

But sitting on the lip of the building, legs hung over the edge and arms resting on one of the lower bars stopping him from falling to his death, it does feel like the rooftop belongs to him and him alone. The thought is enough to bring a smile to his face.

He’s the only one seeing this right now, the only one capable of capturing this exact image at this exact time. It doesn’t—like many things do—make him feel as isolated or small as he expects. It reminds him that he has his own vision and his own mind and his own existence, and this must mean he is meant for something. This eagle-eye perspective of this universe in this exact moment is made just for him.

His smile widens as he ponders on how Robbe-like that thought is.

It’s this thought that eventually draws him away. He slides his legs back onto solid concrete and hauls himself to his feet, wincing at the twinge in his ass and brushing stone crumbs off the back of his jeans. Then he slips back through the doorway and down the stairs and begins the trek back to his number-one solace.

His feet cry out in relief as he quietly lets himself into the house and pulls off his Docs. They aren’t the best walking shoes. His feet feel achy and sweaty and he curls and rolls his toes on the wooden floor as he hangs his jacket back on his usual hook. Then he climbs another set of stairs.

He’s relieved to find Robbe exactly how he left him, only now lit in a more golden glow. The boy is curled on his side, facing the doorway Sander has just crept through, curls splayed on the pillow and mouth slightly agape. Fast asleep. Beautiful.

Sander tugs off his jumper and steps out of his jeans, then rounds the bed and crawls back in next to his boyfriend.

The sheets have chilled since he vacated them, unhelpful against his already-cold skin. He shifts towards the middle of the mattress and already feels warmer. The heat emanating from Robbe beckons him closer, and he doesn’t fight it, slipping right into the dip behind Robbe and sliding an arm over his waist, pulling the boy back against his chest. Robbe moves easily, snuggling back into Sander with a sigh, and Sander’s whole body blooms with heat.

As much as he likes his rooftop, there’s no doubt that this is his favourite place to be. ‘This’ being anywhere within Robbe’s orbit.

He doesn’t quite drift off again, but his body goes pleasantly lax and his mind quiets. The longer he listens to Robbe’s soft breaths the more his own heart eases.

Then Robbe starts to shift, and Sander worries he’s woken him. He wriggles in Sander’s arms and Sander loosens his grip, but Robbe simply rolls over in his embrace, turning to face him and immediately curling towards his chest. Sander’s lips turn up in a smile as he draws him in, pressing his nose to Robbe’s soft curls and inhaling slowly. Robbe’s arm curls over his waist, tucking around his back and denting his skin.

He traces patterns over Robbe’s bare shoulder in the few minutes it takes for Robbe to stir again. His grip tightens on Sander for a second as his eyes scrunch, refusing to succumb to the sunlight as he presses closer to Sander’s chest.

Sander presses a kiss to the top of his head as he lets out a tiny, whiny hum, still half-asleep as he stretches his toes against Sander’s ankles and blinks.

Robbe’s doe eyes, even while squinty and crusted with sleep, are the most mesmerizing things he’s ever seen. The corners of them crinkle as Robbe leans back far enough to smile up at him before burying his face back in the crook of Sander’s neck. “Morning,” he mumbles. Then he kisses the closest patch of Sander’s skin.

Sander hugs him tight and returns, “Morning. Sleep well?”

Robbe hums again. “Wha’ time is it?”

“I don’t know. Still before nine, I think.”

“Okay,” Robbe sighs, giving him a squeeze. “We still have some time then.” After a pause, he pulls away from Sander again and looks up at him curiously. “Did you go out? You’re cold.”

This last bit comes out as a whine, and Sander huffs. “Yeah. Just for a walk.”

Robbe hums, smiling as he snuggles back into him again, pushing Sander onto his back so he can sprawl out over his chest and lock their arms together. “Taking photos?”

“No. Didn’t take my camera or anything.”

“But you took your phone, right?”

“Of course, I needed music.”

Robbe huffs, but accepts this response without further questions, leaving a smiling kiss on Sander’s chest. He repeats the motion, then starts up a lazy trail, mapping his way across Sander’s collarbone until Sander tugs his hair. Robbe tilts his head up and lets Sander connect their lips, shifting up on the bed and pressing a hand to Sander’s cheek. Sander’s hand moves to cup the back of Robbe’s head, fingers tangling in his curls and drawing him closer. Robbe’s hand moves up his chest to settle in the crook of his neck and he feels suddenly warm.

He skims a hand down Robbe’s back, tracing the divots and dents of his spine, breathing slow under Robbe’s lazy kisses. He palms at Robbe’s hip, and Robbe quickly takes the hint, lifting his leg over Sander’s and settling atop him before letting out a happy hum.

“Good morning,” he says, amused and cheeky, and Sander bites his lip in retaliation.

Robbe giggles and Sander swallows the sound down, tucks it away in the lower part of his chest to be dug up later. He has made up a whole portfolio of these precious sounds, along with a plethora of the most stunning images and a sad imitation of Robbe’s touch. It’s hard to beat the real thing.

Sander soaks up as much of it as he can now and still begs for more, splaying one hand over shoulder-blades and letting the other slide down, curling over the curve of Robbe’s bottom, drawing him down while tilting his own hips up. Now Robbe’s hum is lower, coming from a more guttural place as he bears down on his own, only requiring that initial permission.

He breaks away to gaze down at Sander, tracing light fingertips over his face as he breathes heavily. Sander smooths his hand back up the line of Robbe’s back to tangle both in his hair. This time he makes his way along Robbe’s cheek, feathering kisses against the stubbly skin until he can brush his lips against the shell of Robbe’s ear and nip at the lobe, free of his earring for the moment. Robbe makes a small, mewling noise and tightens his grip on Sander’s shoulders.

“What time are you leaving?” Sander asks, keeping his voice at a murmur so as not to spoil the mood entirely.

“Jens is meeting me here around ten.”

Sander groans. “You can’t make that ten-thirty?”

Robbe huffs gently. He places his hands on Sander’s chest and pushes himself up to sitting, still astride Sander’s hips. Sander would be more upset with the new lack of contact if it didn’t give him such a nice view; Robbe is all clean-cut lines and lean muscle, with skin glowy and soft under Sander’s fingers. “Jens wanted to be gone yesterday,” Robbe reminds him, not unkindly.

“Why didn’t he just go with Lucas, then?”

“Because he agreed to wait around so I could spend the night with you.” Robbe raises his brows. At Sander’s permanent pout, he huffs again, shaking his head. “You can still come with, you know. We’re going to get a break before the end of school. Couldn’t you do with a break, too?”

Sander groans again and pulls Robbe’s pillow over his face. “I can’t,” he moans. “This project is due on Monday. Unless I stayed up all night tomorrow, I wouldn’t have time to finish it.”

Robbe hums. “You’re usually the one begging me to keep you up all night.”

Sander gives him a sour look, even as his stomach flutters.

“I’m sorry,” Robbe laughs. “I really am. But you know Lucas never asks for anything.”

“And you want to go.”

Robbe hesitates, but he never lies to Sander. He gives a tiny nod and an apologetic smile. “I do. And Jens really needs it.”

Sander considers him for a moment, the lovely curve of his lips and the gentle doe-eyes, and blows out a sigh. “You deserve it,” he says softly. He gives Robbe’s ear a tug and allows himself to smile. “And I suppose I’ll survive.”

It only takes Robbe’s grin to prove he’s done the right thing. Robbe leans down to leave him a kiss, light but lingering, and then turns it into a dozen different pecks instead. “You better. Thank you.”

Sander can only lie there and accept the onslaught of affection, laughing as he settles his hands on Robbe’s thighs and squeezes. He meant what he said—Robbe does deserve it. They hadn’t managed to get away over the break as initially planned, so when Lucas invited them back to Utrecht this weekend they had jumped on the offer. Sander had shared the excitement initially, but then had quickly been reminded of his reality, in which he had stupidly chosen to leave things to the last minute.

“I feel more sorry for you, anyway,” Sander mumbles, emitting a low whistle. “I’ll be alone, but at least I’ll have a quiet night.”

Robbe immediately pushes himself up again, wide-eyed. “No. We’re staying at Lucas’s house, with his mom. Surely they won’t…”

Sander snorts, waving at the space around them and raising a brow. “Where are we right now, Robbe?” At Robbe’s blush, he purses his lips together, making his own eyes big in suggestion. “It is a stress-relief getaway.”

Robbe buries his face in his hands and groans. He rolls off of Sander even as the elder protests, peeking through his hands to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m going to come home traumatised. It’ll be worse than the time I walked in on him and Jana.”

“Not if you don’t walk in on them,” Sander laughs. Seconds later, a pillow smacks him in the face. He makes a muffled protest as he’s attacked again, grabbing at the soft material and wrestling it out of Robbe’s grip to whack him back, hearing Robbe make an ‘oof’ sound before breaking out into giggles.

Eventually, Sander tosses the pillow aside and wrestles Robbe instead, getting him flat on his back and moving over him. He slots a leg between Robbe’s and presses their tangled hands down either side of Robbe’s head, and Robbe’s eyelids droop. Then his fingers flex around Sander’s as his lips part. His neck strains as his head tilts up. Sander ducks down, but forgoes Robbe’s lips to lick a stripe up his neck.

“Sander,” Robbe whines, squirming underneath him in protest even as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“What?”

“We haven’t got long.”

Sander hums, pulling the patch of skin he’d been kissing between his teeth to hear Robbe gasp. “We’d have longer if you were going to stay.”

“Sander,” Robbe repeats, this time in sullen protest.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sander soothes. “We still have enough time though, don’t we?”

“Did you hear my mom when you got back?”

“Nope. I assume she’s still sound asleep.”

Robbe smiles at that, pleased, and Sander finally grants him a kiss, slow and sensual until Robbe makes a needy little sound and squeezes his hands. Sander releases his hands and Robbe immediately tangles them in his hair, tugging at the strands.

“How many minutes do we have to make up for?” Sander asks him.

“Too many to waste time calculating now. We just have enough time to make sure you don’t forget me while I’m gone.” Robbe winks at him, and Sander huffs and goes in for another kiss, but Robbe is already moving. Sander half expects to be rolled over again, but instead Robbe just shimmies down, licking and biting his own way along Sander’s neck before heading lower.

Sander’s arms tremble with the effort of keeping himself up when Robbe’s lips close around his nipple. He draws his pillow over to bury his face in it as Robbe works a mark into his chest, rolling the opposite nipple under his thumb. Once he’s pleased with his work and Sander’s mumbling his name, he makes his way further south.

The following minutes are quite memorable indeed.

~^~

next

[candycityy]

Ooh rivetra and 20 or 76 (or both if you want to ;)) for the Drabble prompts pleeeease 🧡🖤

Note: I did both because what can I say, I love a challenge, hehehe. I hope you like it!

References this earlier drabble.

(You can also read this on AO3!)

So here's the thing, right. For all his flaws—and he does have flaws, no matter what the fawning masses think—Levi isn't stupid.

Sure, he's not probably not cut out for the rarefied, upper-crust intelligentsia that Erwin Smith moves in. And sure, certain idiots of the variety of Hanji Zoë might swear on their dying breaths that he's all brawn and no brain, et cetera, but the truth is, he's got enough street smarts and common sense that most people conveniently overlook his awful social skills.

And that means that contrary to popular belief, Levi doesn't totally suck at social events. The Sina elite tend to misread his frosty bluntness and lack of etiquette as a refreshing, man-on-the-street brand of humour. Which, well, whatever works, he supposes.

Unfortunately, as a matter of consequence, that means that even with a hyperactive three-year old at home, Erwin had point-blank refused to let him off for this year's Midwinter Ball. He'd given him leave for the past few since Ava was still far too young to be left alone at home, but judging by the commander's expression, he's just about exhausted his excuses.

"You know the state of our finances, Levi," he'd said, cerulean eyes earnest and entreating. "We need every coin we can get. And, well, you're always quite popular at these balls, being humanity's strongest and all—not accounting for taste, of course—"

"Oi!"

The commander'd smirked, but his expression had faded back to solemnity quickly enough. "We need you there, Levi. I won't make it an order, but consider it...a personal request. Please?"

Levi'd grumbled under his breath. "Whatever. I'll go, I'll go, just stop looking at me like that," he'd barked.

Erwin had smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Levi."

Cut to the present. It's just past six o'clock, the winter sky only now beginning to darken into a somewhat forbidding shade of violet-grey. He's already dressed in his standard black suit, pacing back and forth the small living room, his eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.

Petra, who's in the midst of removing the curlers from her hair, shoots him an irritated look. "Would you calm down," she hisses, "you're driving me crazy. And Ava's going to pick up on it too, you know."

They both glance at their daughter, who's serenely colouring in a picture in crayon at the other end of the room. The three-year-old is Petra in miniature, from her wide eyes right down to her peaches-and-cream complexion. With just one exception: her hair is just a touch darker than her mother's: more cinnamon than honey.

Levi runs a hand through his hair. "Why aren't they here yet?" he says, for the third time that night.

"Because we told them to come at half past," Petra replies, with somewhat less patience than she'd ordinarily have. "Now get over here and help me do up my necklace, would you."

The metal is cold to the touch, but Petra just smiles softly as he clasps the necklace behind her neck with deft fingers. "Remember our first Midwinter Ball?" she reminisces. "That was pretty fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun for you, maybe," Levi says drily. "I was busy dragging Auruo off the dance floor after he puked and blacked out, remember?"

She giggles. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that part. But still, that was when we danced together for the first time." They fall into a comfortable, nostalgic silence, and finally, he sighs.

"I still don't like leaving her alone," he mutters.

"It's hardly the first time," Petra says gently.

"I know, but it's the first time we'll be so far from her. And for so long, too—a whole night." His eyes turn contemplative. "Maybe I could just ride back, after the ball—if the weather isn't bad—"

"Don't even think about it," she says sharply. "The roads aren't safe this time of year, especially not so late at night, there's too much ice. We'll be back in the morning, Levi. Don't worry so much."

He snorts. "Easier said than done. Why aren't they here yet?" he asks again. This time, Petra ignores him, instead turning back to the mirror and carefully applying lipstick with a practiced hand.

After the final step—dusting her cheeks with rose-tinted powder—she rises to her feet, doing a slow turn in her gown, a sleek, champagne-coloured affair with a fitted bodice and fluted sleeves, cut out of satin and embellished with tiny buttons down the front. Her delicately curled hair falls in soft waves to her collarbone, just brushing the front of her dress.

"What do you think?" she goes. Oblivious to his sullen silence, she juts out a hip and flutters her lashes at him coquettishly, an action which earns her an eye-roll.

"You're going to make everyone stare," he grumbles. She giggles.

"I have to keep your fangirls away, now don't I?" she teases, with a toss of her head. He's about to issue a retort when a knock comes at the door.

"Right on time, as usual," Petra declares. Levi just scowls.

He'd had been reluctant to get them back after the first disastrous incident, but Petra had insisted that they'd done a good job—"after all, Ava was perfectly fine, wasn't she?" As a result, Eren and Jean have become their go-to babysitters ever since. Levi's loath to admit it, but their daughter has warmed up to them. She's already toddling over to the door with a ready beam on her face, as the boys troop in through the door, faces flushed with the cold.

"Eren nii-chan! Jean nii-chan!" she chirps, plump arms outstretched. "Pick me up, pleaaaase?"

Eren breaks into a grin and obliges. His terror of Levi has subsided somewhat, although he still occasionally trips over his feet whenever he walks past, but he openly adores the toddler. Jean's a bit more reserved, but as Ava begins to babble cheerfully, his expression noticeably softens—even though he claims he's not a fan of babies, Levi suspects that he's secretly just as enamoured with Ava as his comrade is.

Of course, that only makes sense, considering that as far as Levi is concerned, Ava Ackerman is the cutest fucking baby on the planet.

Outside the door, there's the distant sound of approaching hooves pounding against cobblestone. Sensing a farewell, Petra sighs and leans over to give Ava one last hug, as Levi presses a gentle kiss to his daughter's cheek.

"We'll better be off," she says reluctantly. "Boys, thank you so much for taking care of Ava tonight. If anything goes wrong, you know what to do."

All four adults exchange grim, silent glances; they know what's coming next. Levi picks up his coat and shrugs it on. Petra wraps a scarf around her neck.

And with a sigh, they push the door open, and wait.

Three, two—

"Nooooo!"

Ava lets out a ear-splitting shriek, one that seems far too loud to come from such a small baby. Her eyes well up with anxious tears as she comes to the awful realisation that her parents are leaving without her, and she struggles desperately towards them, her face screwed-up and flushed with fury, as Eren doggedly tries to keep her from wriggling out of his arms. Beside him, Jean attempts in vain to ply her with sweets and toys, but she won't be soothed or distracted.

"No, no, no!" Ava wails. Her tiny fists pummel Eren's shoulder, who, to his credit, doesn't flinch, just hefts her up resignedly. "No go, no go! Stay!"

Petra sends him a warning look. And even as every atom of his body rebels against the thought of it...

Levi steps over the threshold, and into the wintry night air.

==

"Levi," Petra says patiently, "you're fidgeting."

She places a hand on his thigh, which, apparently, he'd been subconsciously jiggling all this while. Calming Ava down had taken about ten whole minutes, but Eren and Jean had finally managed to distract her with a game of hide-and-seek—her new favourite—and they'd quietly snuck onto the carriage before she could realise their trick.

They're barely more than a mile from home, but already being away from Ava feels like a piercing, physical pain in the front of his skull, a palpable anxiety that refuses to fade. Even Petra's presence, usually so comforting, doesn't soothe him in the slightest.

"Sorry," he mutters. "It's just—it's fucking terrifying, being a parent." His wife touches his cheek in silent commiseration, and they both sit in silence.

It's as perfect a night as it could ever be, in all honesty. The moon is full and bright, its silvery light beaming helpfully onto their path. The road is almost deserted this evening—Levi supposes most people would rather be safely tucked in the warmth of their homes, celebrating the holiday season with their own families instead of with dozens of expensively-attired strangers.

Fuck it all. Sensing his blood pressure rising, he takes a deep breath. The air is cool and dry and calming. Turning to stare out at the window, he listens to the rhythmic clickity-clack of the horses' hooves, their huffed pants of exertion, the metallic whine of the wheels—

Levi frowns. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Petra starts to ask, and then stills—this time, she'd heard it too. That high-pitched, bell-like sound, that sounds disturbingly like...

She swallows. "D-did you just make that noise?"

He stares at her drily. "I don't think my vocal chords could physically manage that."

"You don't think..." Her jaw drops, and she almost leaps towards the driver's seat in her urgency, startling the poor old man. "Excuse me! Stop the carriage, please!"

The horses have barely come to a halt when Levi disembarks from the carriage in one swift, fluid movement. He strides towards the back of the carriage, where, he knows, there's a small compartment built in, just large enough for their overnight bags and gear.

As well as—perhaps—a three-year-old toddler, if she were crouching quite close to the floor. Like, for instance, in a game of hide-and-seek.

His expression is grim as he tugs open the lid of the compartment. Behind him, Petra looks frozen, her face a mixture of trepidation and incredulity and just the tiniest hint of amusement.

The lid comes loose. "Daddy!" their irrepressible daughter exclaims, springing out of her crouching position. She giggles again, that familiar high-pitched, bell-like sound almost unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. "Mama! Ava came along!"

For a second, both parents are struck speechless as they stare at their cheerful stowaway in wordless horror.

Finally, Petra opens her mouth to speak.

"You don't say," she deadpans.

==

By the time they reach Sina, the ball has already started.

Of course, considering how they had to turn back around (much to the chagrin of the carriage-driver), tuck Ava very firmly into bed (it goes easier this time, considering how exhausted she is from the very dramatic game of hide-and-seek), reassure a terrified Eren and Jean that they're not mad (although Levi still isn't sure, to be honest), and allow them to resume sentry duty before leaving, he figures they actually made pretty good time.

Other than the very pointed, self-righteous look the doorman shoots them as they stumble into the hall, they manage to blend into the crowd with relative ease. They quickly touch base with the rest of the squad and collect two well-deserved flutes of wine before searching for Erwin, if only to reassure him that they did, in fact, come.

The commander is, of course, easy enough to spot, what with his stature and all. And although he initially looks mildly disapproving, his expression quickly turns wry once he hears the tale.

"That's quite a story," he says, nodding politely at a passing noblewoman, who blushes alluringly and bats her eyes. "Although, I suppose I should be glad you turned up at all, considering."

Petra giggles. "Touché. Although, maybe next year, we can bring her along. Wouldn't that be adorable?"

"Over my dead body," Levi says flatly. "But maybe next year, you'll let me stay home, Erwin."

The blonde man sighs and casts his eyes skyward. Around them, the party thrums cheerfully, soldiers mingling with nobles, careful words and casual touches exchanged over good dance and better drink. But although the atmosphere is thick with holiday cheer and inebriation, the commander seems wearily immune. "Maybe next year, I'll finally resign."

Levi snorts and lifts his wine-glass. "I'll toast to that."

Drabble challenge!

[coldsoupbowl-blog]

For The Sake Of Better Times (Ler Hawks/Lee Dabi)

This has been a long time coming bruh. Hope you like it Eevee my heart and soul was poured into this. Love you and everything that you do <3

When you see big bad villains on TV or on the big screen, you usually see them in the midst of an incredible battle. Guns blaring, fiery explosions, big declarations of their victory over the hero. All of these big productions of turning the world into something that fits their own worldview, even if that worldview is broken and demented. One often wonders what's going on behind the mind of someone who has that worldview; one who sees a perfectly fine place as disgusting and corrupt. Because they've been through the disgusting and corrupt, and they know that not everyone's glass walls have been shattered as theirs has. The big explosions and wide killing sprees and wild maniacal laughter of a textbook villain is nothing compared to the wild currents blurring their mind and storming their heart.

  The League of Villains, a villain organization made up of powerful quirk abusers and double agents had no current agenda as of today. Most of the patrons that made up the alliance were residing in their hideout, a hollowed-out building that was restored to resemble a bar service. One of the villains that participated in the League, Dabi, occupied a bar stool and watched the latest news intently from the flat screen in the corner of the room.

 A new interrogation method against villains was being proposed by the Hero Commission, the spokesperson reported, an interrogation method that would take a sensitivity-heightening quirk and develop it into a mass-produced serum. This serum, once administered, would take the subjects five senses and heighten them to make nearly any stimuli incredibly uncomfortable. Using this, tools and extra manpower would be unnecessary seeing as how the subject would be sensitive to almost anything that would be thrown at them.  

 Dabi rolled his lidded eyes at this. What a pathetic way of saying that the Hero Commission couldn't handle the enemies as they came, they had to power them down as well as they could to get the upper hand. Taking advantage of the villain's five senses just for interrogation purposes seemed inhumane. Another patron to the League of Villains, Himiko Toga, didn't have the same reaction to this news, however.

 "Ehehehee!~ Doesn't that sound so thrilling, Dabi-Kun? Being unable to resist anything the interrogators decide to do to your unwilling body, whether you liked it or not? What if the interrogator is cute, all of your forced reactions will be the product of their actions against you! Ooooh, my heart is pounding!~" Toga smiled dreamily and twirled around like a princess, although Dabi didn't know any princesses who wielded knives with dried blood crusted over the blade. Toga threw herself onto Dabi's shoulders and pinched the spikes that his onyx hair naturally made when it was tousled like this.

 "Say you agree with me, Dabi-Kun~ We can be freaks together!" Toga's voice dropped to a seductive mutter in Dabi's ear, but this had no effect on him. The villain wasn't attracted to girls like Toga, or girls of any nature, now that he was finding out. He was about to reply, surprisingly, before he felt a finger slide down his side. He felt the pressure end at the top of his hip, but to this, he only gazed at Toga's hand to make sure the blonde villain didn't pull anything. Toga visibly pouted when the male villain didn't give her the reaction she wanted.  

 "Dabi-Kun! You're not ticklish? Why nooot? No tickles for big bad Blueflame?" Toga's fingers started to wriggle over Dabi's left side, but he simply watched. Watching the fingers slide over his cotton shirt made a memory flashbang in his mind, but the vision soon slid away once he thought about it. The bored villain slapped away his partner's hand and signaled the barkeep, Kurogiri, for a drink.

 "I don't have time for kid games like those." He said simply. This caught the attention of a certain personality in the room, a personality that not everyone was excited to see, but his presence was necessary nevertheless. The number two hero on the Pro Hero Charts, Keigo Takami, or Hawks, peered up above the couch he was seated on to get a glimpse of the onyx villain. The double agent's amber eyes shone in the dim lighting as something that the villain said piqued his interest.

 "Oh boo. You and Shiggy-Kun aren't ticklish like I want you to be. This place would be so much cuter if you were! Maybe I can steal a few of those serums from the Hero Commission and turn you into my little-" Toga daydreamed out loud, but a swooshing sound interrupted behind her, like a pile of feathers were thrown onto a chair. In a sense, they were. The double agent Hawks had selected a barstool to sit in next to Dabi, which Dabi groaned at. Hawks gave Toga a warm smile despite their different lines of profession.

 "Himiko, Shig-Man needs to see ya in his office. Said it was urgent, and you know he hates to wait. Maybe he overheard your serum idea and wants to play a prank on Twice." At this, Toga swooned and gave a girlish squeal of excitement.

  "Oh, how exciting! I already know the table I want to strap him into!~" The blonde villain skipped out of the room, humming a sweet song despite her knife scraping up the plaster on the walls as she ran past. Hawks watched her leave and shook his head, turning back to see Kurogiri handing Dabi his drink.

  "So, Staples, when you say that you don't have time for certain kid games, what exactly are those kid games? Are you saying that you played different games when you were a kid?" Dabi threw the conniving man a sideways glance as he finished the sip of his darkly colored drink.

  "Staples? The hell kinda name is that? It's Dabi, and nothing more. Secondly, you don't get to know the kid games I played when I was younger. Because I didn't play any of them." Dabi's tone was quiet but forceful. Sometimes that was scarier than being loud and upfront. Hawks, or Keigo, drummed his fingers over the wooden barkeep. Dabi's response didn't scare him, not this time anyway; it riled him up. His crimson wings were puffed up and clearly agitated like an upset bird.

 "So what did you do over the course of your childhood then? You didn't pop up in the gutter at 24 years old and just start blowing shit up." Keigo was needling for something; he didn't know what it was exactly, he just wanted to get any indication that Dabi had been happy at least once in his life. Maybe happy with a childhood friend-

  "Let it alone before I turn you into a burnt chicken wing," Dabi growled and shoved his barstool back to stalk out of the room. Kurogiri watched silently. Keigo's left leg bounced as he thought up an idea to look inside Dabi's past. There was something that the blonde hero was looking for, and maybe with enough pressure, Dabi would give it up. Keigo sniffed and looked up to the television, the Pro Hero Eraserhead speaking on the panel about the developments of the sensitivity-heightening serum.

 "-serum is now being trial-tested against our own strongest participants. This project will put an end to cruel and unusual interrogation methods. The Hero Commission recognizes that these villains are wicked, yes, but they still deserve to be treated with a level of dignity and respect that these new developing methods will offer. Thank you very much for your time." The tired hero stood from his chair and bowed towards the reporters who were all asking their questions at once. Keigo's wings suddenly perked up with an incredible idea.  

 '''''''''''''''''''''''''

 "Yeah, Shig said he wanted us in the conference room. Something about this sensitivity-heightening serum has him rubbed the wrong way." Keigo relayed onto Dabi, who was walking right next to the conniving hero. The hero's heart was racing. Two days after the incident at the bar, the number two hero had pulled some strings with the scientists creating the serum and had them form it into a gas. He had them make it under confidential means. It was the chloroform gas that was the hard part to set up-

 "Whatever it is, let's get done with it. I got shit to do." So short and to the point with him. Keigo was jealous of Dabi's straightforward demeanor. Alright, the room was almost here. Just a little bit further before Dabi realized that they were needed in the conference room that was on the other side of the building.

The golden double agent and the onyx villain walked into a decontamination hallway, the doors on either side locking and bolting shut. Dabi looked visibly confused before it was replaced with his usual bored expression. The villain turned to the hero for an explanation. Keigo shrugged nonchalantly.  

 "You know the boss. Every precaution is not nearly enough..." Dabi had turned his back on the hero as he narrowed his eyes towards the chambers that held the decontaminating spray. There were black nozzles screwed onto the chambers that hadn't been there before. Dabi's cyan eyes flew open as a thin vapor began to seep into the chamber. Keigo had just clamped a mask over his own mouth and nose as Dabi was already losing consciousness, his knees striking the floor and his hands sending out small defensive flames. Keigo relished a quick moment of pride as he watched the hardened villain choke on the powerful gas, his head already rolling to the side in defeat.

 The hero knelt down beside Dabi and held his cheek; the insane murderer looking almost innocent in his peaceful rest. "Poor Dabi. You'll realize soon enough that I'm doing you a favor. You and I both need to find out what happened to Touya Todoroki.."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''

 The room was cold, freezing even, as if the cold air were needles sticking into his skin. He was too aware of his surroundings even with his eyes closed; the biting leather strapped over his arms and legs, his soft cotton shirt now a lead weight on his chest, his soft aerodynamic hair now a dense mat on his forehead. It was incredibly bizarre and uncomfortable; it was like he was feeling everything all at once. And not just feeling; The dim lights in the room were bright enough to him that they stabbed into his shut eyes, he could taste the acrid gas that had knocked him out on his tongue despite it being hours since that had happened, the low buzzing of the generator outside of this holding cell was a high enough frequency to give him a headache. The skin stitched between his scarred skin and pale skin were like live wires sparking against his nerves.

 "Sensory overload, must be absolute hell. I can't imagine what it must feel like. Then again I'm not really interested in finding out. Oh, and don't try to get yourself out with your flames. Not only will it hurt like hell against your sensitive skin, but your quirk has been canceled out anyway. I totally didn't have some guests over while you were konked to help me set this up...and take pictures of you." The voice that was speaking to Dabi sounded like he was fighting back a laugh. It was also damn loud and obnoxious, more so than with this sensitivity-heightening serum coursing through his veins.

 Dabi's lidded eyes opened with a furiousness in his pupils so honest that Keigo swallowed nervously. Dabi had his arms strapped outward on either side of him, his palms face up and clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Leather straps were pulled tight over his biceps, forearms, and wrists. A belt laid dangling by the side of the table in case his midsection needed restraint, and his legs were held down at his thighs, above his knees and his ankles. Keigo couldn't help but look him over a few times; the villain looked like he was made just to be on this table and in these restraints.

 "Let. Me. Out. Before I set your skeleton on fire." Dabi growled, and pulled on the restraints. They were tight and unforgiving, no wiggling room here. Whatever was in that serum also made sure to sap him of his strength; the once strong villain felt as if he were made of liquid. Keigo shook his head and tsked, walking over to place a hand on Dabi's belly. The hero's light hand felt like a five-pound weight on the sensitive villain. Dabi watched the hero's every move, although it didn't feel like nearly enough to prepare him for what was to come.

"Tsk tsk, little blueflame. You really think I'd set you free after everything I've done to get you here? Not to mention," Keigo's luminous golden eyes looked up to Dabi's cyan ones, a hardened seriousness in the pupils, "that you're a convicted child abductor." Keigo removed his hand from Dabi's chest, and Dabi took in a deep breath once Keigo had looked away. The villain felt as if a  weight had been removed from his chest. This serum was horribly effective; it almost made him sick.

 Keigo turned back to Dabi and cracked his knuckles. Dabi started to sweat; he had no idea just how elevated his nerve endings were and how they would receive everything, but he felt like all of his nerves were standing on the edge of his skin, just underneath the surface. Despite his anxiety, Dabi cleared his throat and shook his head.

 "I'm no child abductor. That brat from UA was Shigaraki's project. I knew the kid was bad news from the start." His voice came out evenly, thank God. But this didn't convince Hawks. Keigo walked back over to Dabi and inspected his restraints. The fun must be about to start, Dabi involuntarily thought in his head. He took choppy breathes, wondering what torture would be first on the docket.

"Nah ah ah, not Bakugou. I'm talking about Touya Todoroki. He's been missing for about 10 years now. He came from a loving family with siblings and friends alike...but he suddenly disappeared. And you were the last one to have been seen around him." Dabi's heart flipped at the name. He didn't know why, he's never heard the name before. But something settled in his stomach like a fluttering of butterfly wings. Keigo placed his hands flat on the table on either side of Dabi, the warmth of his skin was even felt against Dabi's hypersensitive nerves.

 "You're gonna tell me what you did to Touya Todoroki, even if I have to force you." Dabi looked at Keigo like he was a crazy person. He's never taken a kid named Touya, but his body felt like it remembered the name even if his brain didn't. Dabi cleared his throat and hardened himself before looking back up at Keigo.

 "Whatever you do won't get the truth. You have the wrong guy, and even if I did have any idea what you're talking about, I wouldn't give you shit." Keigo chuckled darkly at this and set his bare fingers up to Dabi's triceps and traced along the muscled lines in his skin. Keigo hardened his own expression, flat gold disks looking into even blue plains, and smirked at Dabi's immediate reaction. The villain had twitched and jolted in his chair, his fists balling up and his muscles flexing underneath the leather straps.

 "We'll see about that. Oh-ho-ho, we'll see." The blonde hero kept his smirk on his face as Dabi tried to worm away from the alien sensations; Keigo lightly tracing his fingers underneath the villain's twitching arms. Dabi hasn't felt a sensation this light in years; he's completely forgotten anything could feel so gentle and tingly.

 "Ya know Stitches, this sensitivity-heightening quirk caught my eye for a reason. The scientists who developed it reported that nerves the subject thought had gone dormant years ago were suddenly reawakened, like the kindles of a dying fire bursting into bright flames in a split second." Dabi's fingers knuckled, his breath hitching as Keigo's fingers skittered nearest to his open armpits, but scuttled back at the last second. Dabi shuddered and let out his breath silently. Keigo however, soaked in every delicious reaction with a sadistic hunger.

 "At first I thought, "There's no way hardened lowlife criminals could be so sensitive to such small stimulus. Bright lights, loud music, gross smells-" Keigo took both of his pointer fingers and circled them around the outer rim of Dabi's armpits, which made Dabi's eyes fly open and suck in his breath. The damn tingles were climbing in his arms and fluttering in his chest, like there was a swarm of butterflies caged in behind his ribs. "-light touches~ Oh don't tell me these light touches are doing anything for you, are they? They're already drawing out such animated expressions from the most stoic man I've ever seen stalk this earth."

 Dabi's stomach was jumping, like he was going uphill on a rollercoaster, just waiting for the descent. The onyx villain's fingers relaxed, however, once Keigo drew his own fingers away from the sensitive spot. Keigo quirked his lips and held his chin, in a thinking pose before the restrained criminal. The blonde hero resembled a butcher standing over a cow carcass, wondering which part of the animal he was gonna slice up first. Dabi swallowed in a dry throat as he chose his words cautiously. As he opened his mouth to speak, Keigo pointed a finger to the ceiling as he thought up what he wanted to say with a delighted grin on his face.    

 "Of course. There just so happens to be a word for this phenomenon, these light touches that feel like they're taking over your body~" Keigo suddenly swooped in close to Dabi and layered all ten of his fingers onto Dabi's raised individual ribs. Dabi's eyes stared right into the double agent's unreadable expression as the fingers started to press in.

 "It's called 'tickling', the kid games that you were dissing earlier. Looks like we have all the time in the world to play them now, right little blueflame? And you're just sensitive enough to enjoy them this time with me~" Keigo's fingers shook into Dabi's ribs, each finger taking up a bone and vibrating into it. Dabi winced instinctively, but instead of pain, he found maddening consistent tingles. Ungracefully, the villain let out a snort and started letting out frantic giggles. His muscled arms pulling on the restraints and his legs hitched up to try and curl into a ball.

 "Pffmmt- H-Hahahawks! S-Stohohop thihihis nahahahaow!" Deep baritone laughs rumbled out from Dabi's chest without his consent. There was no restraining or trying to keep back his giggles. Keigo's fingers were like lead weights scribbling on his hypersensitive skin. Keigo had a proud look on his face; he was half-expecting for something like this to simply not work on Dabi. But it seemed the exact opposite was true. This was working a little TOO well; with the hardened criminals face bright and squinted in a look of happiness.

 "Mmhmm... If you wanna tell me what happened to Touya Todoroki, I'd be more than happy to help you. On the other hand, though, it looks like you're missing some ribs there, kid. Wouldn't want ya walking around with half an empty ribcage, now would we~" Keigo narrowed his eyes with a smirk on his face as he started from the top of Dabi's ribcage and made sure to scritch each bone and count loudly enough for the villain to hear.

 "Ooone...twooo...threee-" "Keihehehego stohohohop!" "Mmmm...I don't think 'stop' is an acceptable number, I'll have to start aaaall the way back at the top~" With Dabi's arms spread on either side of him, every time he bucked to rid himself of the sensation just pushed the hero's lead fingers into his sensitive skin. His skin felt as if Keigo's fingers were actually about to reach inside of him and count the bare bones of his skeleton.

 The blonde hero took a moment, stilling his fingers, to watch Dabi's reactions to his stimulus. A bright smile infused with mirth was spread across his face; his eyes already glittering over with tears, and his fluffy hair crowned his head to make him look like a bashful giggling kid. His cheeks were dusted over with a light pink from all his hard chuckles. Keigo bit his tongue to keep back the truth; he wanted to blurt it all out for Dabi so they could hurry up and reminisce together.

 The hero covered up his torture stopping by becoming all business and suddenly gripping Dabi's chin to force him to look up into his golden eyes. Dabi was woozy from his lack of oxygen, a dumb smile still plastered across his face. It made Hawks' heart do kickflips, but he couldn't speak to that now.

 "Touya Todoroki was declared a missing person 10 years ago on October 25th, 2010. What did you do with him? Is he still alive? When is his birthday?" Keigo threw all of these questions at once at the dumbfounded villain. The villain tried to jerk his head out from the hero's grip but the hero held on tight.

 "I told you already you fucking dumbass birdbrain! I never abducted any kid! The squirt probably got hit by a train or was bullied to death by some bastard schoolkids!" That last yelp of desperation left his chest without him realizing what he said. Bullied to death....bullied?  Something about that doesn't feel right. Like...it's true. Maybe the kid was bullied. It's almost as if... I've experienced it-  

 Dabi's thoughts were suddenly scattered with his own bouncing cackles; Hawks' fingers gripping his slender sides and squeezing into them. Hawks made sure to hold onto his bottom ribs and taze them while his thumbs squished into the criminal's skin. Dabi jerked on his leather restraints as the cords of his neck stood out on the surface of his skin from his insane laughter.

 "GAHAHAHAD!! STAHAHAHAP!! I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOW SHIHIHIT!! I SWEHEHEAR!!' The criminal's eyes screwed shut tightly in his laughter, the vibrations so deep and pronounced that it felt like it was inside of him. Dabi's knees pulled up and slammed back down on the table in an attempt to do anything to get out of this situation, but his restraints were too tight. Keigo had a VERY amused look on his face at this recent development.

 "Swearing already?~ That's cause for celebration, isn't it? Bravo to our modern scientists for creating something so malicious that it made our hardened criminal swear within the first five minutes~ Although, it doesn't answer my question. Where is Touya Todoroki? What color is his hair? What outfit was he wearing on the day you captured him?" Keigo threw nonsense questions at Dabi to see how he would react to them. Of course, Keigo already knew all of the answers, in part anyway, but he wanted to see how this villain would crack under the pressure. The hero's fingers vibrated in Dabi's lowest ribs as his thumbs massaged in two places on his lean belly. Keigo tried not to look for too long at the villain's contracting abs.

 Dabi's limbs were restless in their quest to try and weasel their way out of this situation; his legs and arms squirming and wrestling against the restraints. Dabi's fists balled up to try and fight the maddening tingling sensations, and his hips bucked up like the bronco he was only to slam down on the table once more. Keigo felt like he was tickling the riding bull you find in dive bars and the like.

 "I SAHAHAID I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOW THE FUHUHUCKING KID!! YOU GAHAHAHA!-" Dabi's deep rumbling laughter soon turned into high pitched hysterical giggles. Keigo's crimson wings had accidentally fluttered over the criminal's belly as he had shifted in his place. Keigo looked back at his magnificent wings and soon had a horrible look shadow over his face. The hero's fingers stilled once more as he plucked a feather out from his own wing. Dabi's cyan eyes were rolled to the back of his head as he laid limp on the table; his mouth open and sucking in as much oxygen as possible.

 "I don't think that's gonna cut it, Patches. I want real answers, not this tippy-toe bullshit you keep pulling on me. I'm gonna get what I'm looking for even if it means I have to kill you." His voice was deep and serious enough for Dabi to perk up and look at him. Dabi didn't care about dying; he even welcomed it at this point just to get out of this damn table. Dabi turned sharply towards his collarbone and coughed into his shoulder. A regular cough wouldn't hurt unless it was a virus, but Dabi's hyper-sensitive insides made this cough burn up his parched throat. The villain looked back with a newfound seriousness and tried not to look too terrified at the slim wiggling feather in the hero's hand.

 "Ask the multiple personalities dude or the blonde psycho bitch! They're always up to some random bullshit that doesn't involve me. I only live by Stain's ideologies and live up to the expectations to make the future he wanted to be realized. Child abduction isn't gonna make that future happen!" Even Dabi could hear the desperation in his own voice; he wanted to kill Hawks for making him so vulnerable. Especially while the hero was looking down at him with that damn lazy smirk, like this was all too amusing for him.

 Keigo took a long breath and twirled the feather in between his fingers; his lips quirked in that thinking look once more. Dabi's eyes couldn't tear away from the hypnotizing piece of tickling equipment. The blonde hero could tell that Dabi was getting shrill, and distraught at that. He was getting there; with just a little more pushing Keigo could possibly unlock Dabi's memories and make him see that HE was Touya Todoroki himself. That's what all of this was.

 "Mmmm... not convinced. Sorry, when it comes to child abduction cases like these, pointing fingers won't help when I know YOU'RE the child abductor. Just a matter of time until you wanna admit it to me. But hey, at least it's fun torture and not a messy one, right? A few things I have to do before we get started up again though-" Keigo stepped forward and tucked his feather in the crest of Dabi's ear like he was holding a pencil there.

 "Hold onto that for a second," Keigo said simply as he lifted Dabi's thin cotton shirt and lifted it up over his head.

  "As soon as I get out of these restraints, you're bones are gonna be liquefied inside of your damn disgusting body." Dabi hissed, while Keigo wasn't paying attention to that and staring directly at Dabi's impressive toned six-pack. Dabi followed Keigo's gaze and blushed deeply at the realization. Keigo suddenly snapped out of it and reanimated himself.

 "Oh, well, in that case. I'll just put more on you so that doesn't have to happen!" Keigo flashed Dabi a squinted smile and took the straps that lay on either side of Dabi's hips. Keigo pulled on the leather belt tightly so now his midsection couldn't buck in any direction. The belt also helped pull Dabi's diamond navel taut. Dabi's belly and entire torso were unmarked with his scars; the scars only curving over his sides and disappearing under his pants. Keigo also noted that Dabi's hips were deep and indented, like someone pressed their thumbs into them. They must be really warm and hopefully very sensitive at this rate-

 Keigo cleared his throat and stole back his feather with a wink while he was face to face with Dabi, to which Dabi attempted to headbutt the birdman. It was then that Dabi realized that with the belt now strapped just above his belly button, any wiggling room that he had before had just evaporated.

 "Realizing just how fucked you are? And the effects of the serum don't start depleting until the victim's body has cooled down. The victim's body cooldown tells the serum that the job has been finished and the Hero's have the information they're looking for. Until then, it lasts as long as it needs to." After Keigo's helpful explanation, Dabi then noticed just how hot his body actually was, like he was running a high fever. Which meant that the serum was probably running at it's highest potent capacity to keep him horribly hyper-sensitive to any and all touches. Keigo watched the realization play over Dabi's face as he stepped forward and started circling his wiggly feather over Dabi's belly button.

 Dabi jerked immediately and clamped his teeth down to prevent any giggles from slipping out. Keigo watched with a newfound sadistic hunger; he watched with the sudden drive to make this man shout his lungs out and regret ever forgetting about his childhood best friend.

 "This can all stop if you just tell me where the kid is. Just give me a location and I'll send the heroes on their way. I got a phone right here. I got heroes at my disposal. We're just waiting on you, Patchwork." Keigo continued to circle and even started sweeping his feather across Dabi's strip of belly like he was dusting a piece of furniture.

  Dabi shook his head and kept his laughter caged in his chest. The single feather was so tingly that he wanted to crawl out of his skin. "I mmph- I t-tohold yohou! I- grrmmph- I-I don't knohow ahahanything about the kid! I never heheard his nahame before!" Dabi involuntarily thought back to Touya Todoroki's name, the damn kid that he was being tortured over. In Dabi's haze, he thought he remembered the Bakugou brat having a friend named Todoroki-

 "Wahait wait wait! I-I-I remember something! I reeheemehember sohohomething I promise!" Dabi pleaded, Keigo taking immediate pity and stopping his red wiggly feather. Keigo pointed his feather like an accusing sword towards Dabi's face.

 "If the information is bullshit, you're getting a second dose injected right in your belly button. Imagine that hell burning in your stomach. Think about this wisely." Dabi swallowed what felt like cotton balls in his throat. He didn't know if Keigo was bullshitting or not, but he also didn't know if he could trust his own memories. He's never been able to remember too much of anything past his twenties... Dabi's shaking fingers hardened into fists as he hardened his resolve to get out of this table.

 "Okay okay... The Touya kid has a brother right? Todoroki? What's the half and half kid's name? Shoto? Yeah, it was Shoto. Go fucking torture him for answers instead of me you damn prick! He knows more about his own brother than I do-" At the sound of the repeated use of the word 'brother', a flash of red hair jumped past Dabi's vision. Keigo shook his head and was starting to step forward to tickle the criminal's belly once more before Dabi hurriedly stopped him. "Woah Woah Woah Woah Woah, hold on, hold on! The Touya kid had red hair! Instead of half and half like his brother, he had all red hair." And white hair with red strips, and blank white hair like the snow- Dabi involuntarily remembered this as well, but before he could grab onto it, it slid away.

 Keigo had a pleased look on his face, however. Dabi was starting to remember bits and pieces of the past, and that's what Keigo wanted. Just a little bit further, and hopefully he would remember who he was.

 "Finally, we're getting somewhere. Unfortunately, no cookies for you. We know Touya had red hair, his family comes from a line of gingers. We need to know where the kid is, Dabi. And you're the only one with the answers. So let's hear 'em." Dabi fought the urge to protest as Keigo willed about six of his feathers to detach from his wings and dust over Dabi's belly, while Keigo's fingers gripped his sides and scribbled his manicured nails into them. Dabi pulled on his restraints and cackled loudly into the sound-proof room.

 "CHRIHIHIHIST!! I DOHOHON'T KNOHOHOHOW AHAHAHANYTHING!! LET ME GOHOHOHO!!" Dabi's eyes screwed shut as his mouth was agape with his hysterical laughter. Both Hawks and Dabi were unaware that the reserved and quiet male could produce such sounds. Dabi's veins stood out like cords against his neck as his chest heaved in with his laughter. Such small stimulus is driving him insane, Hawks thought to himself. Six of his feathers from his crimson wings were dusting over his belly and his navel, while his fingers scratched and scraped over the villains pronounced ribcage. Sure, maybe it was a little intense in terms of tickling, but he thought that this would be too easy for the hardened villain. Apparently not; Hawks could see that Dabi was fighting for breath already.

 "HAHAHAHAWKS I SWEAHAHAHAHA-" Dabi cut his own laughter short with a hard snort. One of the fluffy crimson feathers had started twirling itself into Dabi's stretched navel. There was nowhere that the villain could twist on the table to escape its feathery clutches. Hawks cracked half a smile. Even if he were to take his hands off the villain's ribcage to halt his fingers tickling, which he did; Dabi still produced the same amount of crazed hysterical cackles from just the feathers tickling. The double agent stood with his arms folded and watched his childhood best friend laugh an insane amount.

 The villain had tousled his onyx crown all over his eyes; the once fluffy hair now a dense mop against his forehead. Dabi's smile was agape enough that Keigo could see his glinting incisors. His biceps flexed and struggled; the sweeping of the crimson feathers not ceasing for a moment. They traced over his waistline, the deep cavernous dips of his hip indents, fluttering over the small pinch of skin underneath his navel. Keigo stood fascinated by the scene, while Dabi's eyes started rolling in the back of his head.

 "-AHAHAHAP!! I'LL-I'LL TAHAHAHAHALK I PROHOHOMISE!" That roused Keigo out of his stupor. He forgot that Dabi was in an extremely sensitive situation. The agent quickly halted his feathers and lifted them up from Dabi's belly. The feathers had worked so fervently that the villain's hypersensitive skin was a baby pink on the surface of it. Dabi sniffed back his tears of mirth and heaved in delicious clean oxygen. It was ice cold in his lungs, but the villain much preferred it over the sweaty ticklish hell he was just subjected to.

 "Alright, Staples. Get to talking then, or there's gonna be a lot more feathers where that came from. You don't want these puppies all over you in the situation you're in." Keigo flapped his wings and shook them out to showcase his entire wingspan of crimson ticklers, all individually flowing and wiggling delicately in the air. Dabi gave him a death glare, but even the feathers made him gulp. The villain flexed his fingers as he tried to think up of something that this douche didn't already know about the kid. Keigo could see the villain's brain working to think up a bullshit story just to appease him. That just meant more tickles for-

 "He-He was 15 when he went missing. His father had abused him when he was young and he was shunned by his siblings. His mother tried to protect him but-" But she was crazy. And no one protected him. He was the forgotten one, the one who faded into the background. And no one had a problem with that.  

  Dabi choked on his words, clearing his throat and clearing his mind. Keigo watched with interest as Dabi had spilled all of this information from thin air. Even the villain looked confused, he didn't know where this revelation came from.

 "Mm-hmm, quite the truth serum this stuff is, isn't it? Just a little bit more and you can get off this table and get yourself an ice cream." Dabi shot his gaze up to Keigo's eyes and pulled on his restraints.

"N-No! No more I can't handle it! It's too much! Don't do this!" For some reason Dabi didn't even sound convincing to his own ears. Maybe because even he knew that no matter how much pleading he tried, he wouldn't get out of this until he coughed up more information. Keigo looked quite amused by the display, however. That fox's grin was back on his face.

 "Come on now, it can't be that bad, little patch~ It's just some tickling afterall." Dabi's heart stopped when Keigo walked up to him and gently placed his fingers on Dabi's waistline. "Little kid games, right Blueflame? You can handle it." Keigo suddenly gripped Dabi's right hip and squished his thumb inside, making Dabi curl up and giggle like a schoolboy.

  "Gahahahad! Hahahaha-Hahahaow mahahahany tihihihimes?!" "How many times what? How many times do I have to tickle tickle tickle you before you get the gist of your situation? You're not getting out of this until I get my answers, kid. So cough 'em up, before you cough up a lung." Even holding Dabi's hip like this made the villain squeal out. His hips bucked and shook in their binds, which only drove the hero's thumb in further to his divet.

 "I dohohohon't knohohohow anything! I-I cahahan't rehehember!" Hawks could see that Dabi was actively trying to remember something, he wasn't lying in a situation like this. And Keigo wasn't wanting him to remember his childhood trauma or to relive it in any way, he just wanted his childhood best friend to remember him. Hawks took a deep breath in his lungs and decided to up the anty. Hawks sent four crimson feathers up to Dabi's stretched armpits, the wiggling plumes fluffing over the villain's soft divets. Dabi started to shriek, but Hawks suddenly slid his hands down to Dabi's thighs and squished into the soft material.

 Dabi must have unlocked a second quirk along with his Cremate abilities, because Hawks had never heard such an unearthly howl thrash itself from Dabi's chest. Keigo winced from the piercing sounds from the villain as Dabi's eyes were screwed tightly in hysterical cackles with tears budding in the corners of his eyes. The feathers twisting and fluffing in his stretched armpits along with Hawks kneading up and down his toned thighs had the villain in tears. Dabi didn't know which way to buck, to twist, to jump on the table. He was stuck either leaning into the fluffy feathers for more relentless dusting, or to literally push himself into his captors hands for closer and more effective squeezing.

 "Looks like you're in a pickle, bud. I say just cough up the information and be done with the whole thing but, to each their own, right? If you like it, you like it. I won't judge, I'm having way too much fun~" Keigo had his thumbs fixed to the villains inner thighs as his other eight fingers splayed out as wide as they could stretch to squeeze and grip the skin underneath Dabi's jeans. Dabi wanted to tear his hot tingling skin off with how insane the sensations were.

 "SHUHUHUT THE FUHUHUHUCK-GAHAHAHAHAD!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA!!" Dabi was screaming at this rate, the man's throat parched and raw from the yelling. Keigo rolled his eyes at the exclamations of his victim when something silver flashed in his eye. Keigo thought it was probably just the restraints glinting off the light in the room, but it was Dabi's stitches that caught his eye. Keigo suddenly had a stroke of curiosity and reached behind him to pluck a feather from his wings and swiped the fluffy appendage across Dabi's silver stitch.

 It was liked the criminal was electrified, his body jolting like it touched a live current and his insane cackles jumped an octave with the single swipe. Dabi's stitches had already been sensitive to touch even before he had the serum in his body. Now the nerve endings underneath the stitch felt like it was intertwined with the silver itself. Keigo bit his lip at the torture that was to come. Watching Dabi writhe on the table with the feathers in his armpits, Keigo sent six feathers to every visible stitch on the mans body and let the appendages fluff and dust and wriggle all over him. They were twirling in his ears and driving in his collarbones; they were doing figure eights in his armpits and dragging up his triceps; they were skating down his sides and writing nonsense with their quills down the lines of his abs.

 "GOHOHOHOD!! SAHAHAHAVE MEHEHEHEE!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! I-I'M DHYHYHYHYING!!" It was a horribly dramatic thing to exclaim that Keigo should have listened to, but the way the bird saw it, if Dabi still had breath in his lungs to shout, then he should be fine. Keigo's never seen such a contorted face on anyone before. It was a mix of childlike happiness and mirth with pure anguish and torture. But, whatever gets the truth out, Keigo supposed. It was only a matter of time before Dabi choked on the truth. And Keigo could never get enough of the sight of Dabi's abs contracting with every giggly laugh harvested from his chest.

 "KEHEEHEEHEE-KEIGO!! KEHEHEHEEIGO PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! STOHOHOHOHOP!! I-I REEHEEMEMBER!! STAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIHIT!!"  Dabi suddenly erupted his confession once Keigo neared his bucking kneecaps with his own fingers. Keigo's feathers and hands suddenly halted; the villains heart bursting through his ribcage. The poor captured man had aching ribs and a sore stomach, and his limbs were irritated from pulling on them for so long. Hawks stood with his hands on his hips. His entire body shivered with flashes and icicles, his searing hot sweat sliding down his icy back. It was complete hell, but the stimulus was enough to break the barrier of his lost memories. This was it. Dabi just needed to remember where he came from and who he used to be. Maybe he'd be more cheerful, or at least a little more...anything, at this point.

 Dabi's head was laid back on the table, his body slightly curled up in the small defense he had. His eyes were rolled up to the whites in exhaustion. But in the swirling chaotic blackness behind his eyelids that he was used to, he saw something new. Something he hasn't appreciated in a long time.

 Summer, the scalding heat on the back of my neck, the taste of ice-cold popsicles, the sand inbetween my toes. Being the kid with the dad who pushed them the highest on the swingset. My scraped knees and elbows patched up by the smiling boy. The summer festival and the exploding fireworks in the infinite sky above me.  My best friend who stood there to watch when nobody else would. Keigo, my best friend. His toothy smile and his squinting eyes; his untied shoelaces and messy hair. He never left my side. But  I left his.

 Suddenly I don't feel so heavy. I don't feel so alone, so burdened with this weight on my chest. Because I know Keigo is there. He always was.

 "And I always will be, Touya." Dabi slowly looked up to see Keigo with a gentle smile on his face. Dabi hadn't realized that he was speaking aloud. Hawks turned to Dabi's right arm and started setting free his aching wrist. But after this newest revelation, Dabi didn't feel hurt anymore. He felt like a completed puzzle; the lost piece that made him whole was finally inserted. Dabi held his wrist to his chest and rubbed over his tingling body to rid himself of the leftover sensations.

 "T-Trauma's a bitch, huh? It...Itmade me forget my best friend, the only one who was truly there for me. I'm...I'm sorry about that, Keigo." Keigo shook his head, his bangs swaying back and forth. "Please, don't be sorry. It's your dad that should apologize. I just wanted you to remember everything that was bright in your life, and not live in this bleak purgatory. You have friends and people who care about you. And you used to smile all the time, you know. I know it's not your fault that you forgot who you were and you forgot how to smile. But now at least, maybe you can put your past to good use in the future."

 Dabi nodded, understanding Keigo's words better than he would have thought. Keigo extended his hand out to Dabi to help him off of the table. Dabi hesitated for a moment, a good second passing before he grabbed it and hopped off the table. Dabi was still slightly curled and hunched even as he walked, his defenses still not lowered after that episode.  

 "Don't worry, it's all over. No more tickles, I promise. Unless you kinda liked it, then I can give you more. I thought I saw you leaning in for some more now and again on the table. You also remember how ticklish you used to be and you still are, right? I mean, I thought something this childish was gonna work on ya dude, but your vocal cords must be thrashed-"

  "Yeah, you know what, Keegs, I think I remember just how ticklish you used to be as well when you were a kid. Care to test it out?" Dabi picked up one of the syringes off the table filled with the swirling blue sensitivity serum with a horribly antagonizing look in his eyes.

 Keigo gulped and ran for dear life.

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

Part 3 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, artist!reader, establishedfwb!jisung, skz side characters, explicit language, conflicting feelings angst, reader has past trauma/trust issues (implied), fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms (implied), fluffy n’ intimate body touching (this is a thing I think lol), lil bit of nipple play, seo changbin being the soft soft dom of my SOUL 

Word count: 4.6k 

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

ding-ding-diNG! 

Your teeth chattered, battling the early morning frigid air. White wisps of your shaking breath vaporized in front of you. Your arms were tightly wrapped around your chest and your knees bounced with a little dance to keep your blood flowing. 

[02:29] CB

me: where the hell are you? are you coming down? 

Your dry and cold fingers typed out the words hurriedly on your phone screen. One more time, you smashed your finger on the buzzer button. You figured that if he had fallen asleep after inviting you over, you would kill him. 

“Come on, come on,” you hissed into the open air. 

Thick footsteps came clomping down the stairs from the other side of the frosted glass door, and your attention quickly whipped over. 

As expected, he had adorned himself in nearly all black clothing. Nevertheless, he had thought to pull out his silver chain over the padded coat with white stripes down the arms. 

“Took you long enough. Let me in, I feel like my toes are frozen.” 

Changbin’s eyes cast down to your thin canvas sneakers you had put on in your haste, which were now covered in snow. 

“You should have worn better shoes then. Lets get going.” 

“--Get going??” 

He swung the door behind him closed and it locked with a little click. 

“We’re going somewhere?” 

“I’m hungry.” Changbin simply announced, then took off walking down the block. 

“I thought that--” 

“--Keep up. It’s not that far.” 

He led the two of you onward, and you snuck one more look up at him and the way that the snowflakes got tangled in his hair. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Here, be careful, it’s hot.” 

After brushing off the ice crusted bench, Changbin presented to you a giant bowl of steaming noodles so large you guessed you could keep live fish in it. The smell of the broth was dreadfully nostalgic and was full of all of your favorite ingredients, almost as if he had known exactly what you would’ve ordered. You couldn’t help but feel giddy while the steam wafted up your nose. 

You wondered with full eyes, “Oh my god, what is this?” 

“-The best thing that you’ll ever have in your life. You might as well thank me now.” 

You pulled the little heater closer towards the two of you with radiating orange coils. Changbin didn’t skip a beat sitting right down next to you, letting the fabric of both of your coats intermingle. 

“This is my favorite place in the city. Their recipes really remind me of my mom and grandma’s.” 

“Well I’m really excited to try.” You blew off a handful of noodles steaming into your nose while Changbin expectantly watched you hork it down. 

“So?” 

You covered your chomping mouth with your hand. “So, so good.” 

“Hmm.” He scoffed, then there was that smug little smirk of his. 

You thought to yourself that it was kind of cute. 

The two of you sat quietly together, watching the silent sounds of the snowfall on the road in front of you, following the cars that passed. Over time, your body seemed to gravitate: bit by bit and piece by piece, closer to the boy next to you. 

Changbin set down his metal chopsticks with a tiny clink on the table. “So, are you going to tell me about yourself now?” 

“Me?” 

“Didn’t I say last time I wanted to know?” 

You remembered, but this time you couldn’t as easily kiss away the questions on his lips. 

“How do you mean? There isn’t too much to know.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. What is it that you study?” 

“You want to know what I study?” 

You nearly laughed in your surprise at the mundane question considering that the person sitting across from you had seen you turned inside out, a moaning and muttering mess upon first meeting, and he wanted to know what you studied? 

“Why does that matter?” 

“Matters ‘cause I want to know.” He simply returned, and gave you that look. 

Normally his eyes were stormy grey, like the way that the sky would sizzle with energy before lighting would crack. They clouded with severity that seemed dangerous when he was angry, or when there was something that he wanted. But, looking at you like this, there was no danger that they held. 

“Are you going to tell me or just keep glaring at me like that?” Changbin nodded to your nearly empty bowl. “Finish that. Don’t let it go cold.” 

You did as you were told--at least it wasn’t answering the question. 

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me. But tell me something else at least. Why were you at that show?” 

“My friends took me? My friend Chan is really into underground rap and stuff like that so he usually drags me and Felix with him. I don’t mind.” 

“See? Was answering that that hard?” 

You had forgotten, then laughed a little to yourself. “Chan actually was there to see you. He had heard about you from whatever those circles are. He was really excited.” 

“I’m actually glad you were there for that reason. For a second there I thought you might’ve said that you were there to see Han Jisung.” 

You nearly spat out your bite of noodles, and choked a little on the broth. 

“Guy’s a fuckin’ showboat and a cocky asshole. The girls at the shows are usually there for him.” 

“What the fuck? You didn’t just say that.” 

Anger bit like acid in your throat. 

“What? He is!!” 

It should have hurt more that he had assumed that you were one of the masses that would fall over their feet for Han Jisung, but it didn’t. Your chest twisted in knots knowing that the assumption was right--that hurt the most. You felt sick knowing now how he would look at you if he knew where you would stoop. 

“I’m complimenting you!! I’m glad that you don’t waste your time on assholes like him.” 

“Since when do you get to pass judgement on who I do and don’t spend my time with? -And aren’t you one of those same assholes? Up there on that stage, what makes you think that you’re any different from the rest of them?” 

“I mean...I like to think that I’m not--” 

Your eyes rolled back so far it might’ve hurt a little. 

“You’re all the fucking same. I’m so fucking stupid.” 

The words quietly fell off your lips like venom. 

“We’re all?” What are you talking about?” 

“And what the hell is this with trying to get up all in my business? We fucked once Changbin, what more do you want from me? You think I owe you something now? I’m not falling for that again.” 

The crunch of your footsteps padded the snow when you turned out of your seat to speed away from him as fast as you could, and as far as you could. 

He was the unbelievable one. 

“Stop! I don’t get what you’re talking about. Falling for what again? You’re not making any sense! And no, I don’t think that you owe me something. I’m sorry if you thought that. I’m just--” He grabbed at your arm. 

“--WHAT?” you tore his hand away. 

“Is it a fucking crime to fuck someone and then give a damn about them? Ever heard about that happening?” 

In your life? 

Something terrible and suffocating rose in your chest that felt like a sob that you had held in for much too long. 

“Listen.” Changbin approached you closer, carefully, that look softening. “It’s freezing out here, it’s late. We...don’t have to talk about it any more. I’ll take you back to my place, I’ll call you a cab, you can go home? Okay?” 

Changbin poked out his arm looped in his pocket for you to link up to. 

You didn’t need his help when you knew the way. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝ 

Rosemary and cedarwood again. It was like it was everywhere. It was in the hoodie that he insisted that you put on and all entangled in the fabric of that blanket that he draped around your shoulders. Had you remembered what it was like under the covers of his bed, it was likely there too. 

“Warming up?” 

The bed bounced a little where he sat next to you with the tips of his ears pink. As cold as you were, you were certain that he must have been colder. 

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You crossed up your cold feet under your legs. 

“20 minutes? Then I’ll call them?” 

You nodded, pulling up the blanket hem to your nose and covering half your face. 

Changbin breathed out a little laugh. “You look like a marshmallow.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“Not a bad thing.” 

His smile fell, and he focused on the silver rings twisting around his fingers. He fiddled with them, and you watched, neither of you knowing really what to do with the silence. After some resolve, he crawled over next to you, to lay facing your bundled up face.

At last, he sighed, “I could tell you about me. If you care.” 

Rather than respond, you merely kept on looking at the way the silver would glimmer in the dim yellow of the light. 

“Everything that I do, I do to rap and to perform. My parents never supported me doing this kind of thing and said that if I wanted to do it, I would loose their support. After a while, I realized their support wasn’t that valuable anyway if it was going to be over something that didn’t matter to me. I moved out after high school, I’ve been doing this ever since.” 

“You like it that much?” 

He cracked his fingers, “Sometimes you just know what it is that you’re gonna spend your life doing. For me, it’s this.” 

Your eyes fell to your own hands which still were speckled with little flecks of acrylic. 

“I know what you mean.” 

“You do?” 

“I...paint. And stuff like that. It’s not my major, it could never be, but I feel like that when I’m mixing the colors together and it’s just right. Helps me get the thoughts outta my head.” 

“Yeah...it’s exactly like that.” 

In the warmth of the blankets, you felt a yawn escape your lips and your eyes grow heavy. Your vision had grown blurry, and your dry eyes begged for sleep, but you could still see the way that creeping little smile tugged at his lips. 

You thought to yourself that it was kind of cute. 

“Thank you for telling me something about you.” 

His voice was some kind of dreamy watercoloring of pale pinks and blues. You thought you had likely imagined it. The weight of his hand on your arm felt weightless too, why was it lingering here? His fingers tickled your ear while he swept your hair behind the skin. 

The way that he whispered, “You’re making me want to kiss you.” must have been some kind of dream too. 

Laying like this, right by your side reminded you for before, and the way that your brain had gone cloudy--you could’ve kissed him like that for hours. 

“You...didn’t stop yourself before.” 

Your challenge was all that he needed to take both sides of your face into his hands connecting himself to you incessantly, but gently. He spilled into your mouth kisses of sky blue and lavender, every single one more dedicated than the last. He kissed like he was dizzy and that you would make it all right for him, and like you were the one that he could find over and over. His mouth was blazing hot with warmth and he missed no part of you, moving on to kiss you in places you didn’t know needed the attention: over your bottom and top lip, in the corners of your mouth and the tip of your nose, carefully on the peach fuzz on your cheeks and the bone of your jawline. Each one was purposeful and sweet and melted into your skin snowflakes. 

His wandering hands were cold under the blankets, but you didn’t mind the sensation against your bare skin where he crept his way in, smoothing over the curves of your body. 

Changbin cascaded is way down, pulling you in by the hips closer to his own body. Your core tightened feeling his hands trickle over your waistband. 

“Can I?” He whispered into his kisses. 

You nodded: your exhaustion mixed with some state of unconscious desperation that you had entwined together, and you were completely at his mercy once more. 

“Yes. I’ve...wanted you to.” 

He popped the button and unzipped your pants with little effort, slipping those same cold fingers into the heat of your folds. You shivered with the two temperatures mingling and the pressure of his fingers on your slicked bud in little circles. 

All you could manage were a couple of attempts at forming some kind of words that would eventually get caught in your throat. With one hand, you clawed at the fabric of his tee, hoping just a little that he liked the way that your nails would dig into his skin. His digits mingled all in your arousal, and brought it back up to your clit to make it twitch. After a while he would let you throw your head back into the pillows to feel every little bit of it and focus only on the way that he would press his fingers in harder and faster, then tease you over with barely touching you at all. He would remove his fingers too, to admire the way that it would string between them, leaving you a writhing mess without him. 

“Bin, please, just wanna--” 

You didn’t need to finish your sentence before he granted your wish. He sped up for you, rubbing in perfect circles for your clit to throb under his touch, closer and closer... 

“Can I--?” 

He didn’t answer you, but instead, leaned down to fill your mouth with more kisses and maintained his pace with forearm muscles flexing slightly. 

Your orgasm was faster and much harder than you had expected: it rocked your whole body, from top to bottom where your legs thrashed and your toes curled. The muscles of your stomach tensed, and you felt your whole core spring upward as you came. Luckily, you remembered to be quiet and kept your breath short and sharp, letting only the tiniest of moans meet the air. 

Changbin helped you ride your orgasm out until you could take no more sensation, then stopped, snapping your underwear hem a little on the way up. He held you close as you caught your breath, snickering a little when your body would shake. Your euphoria calmed you down into an even more exhausted state, but the way that the endorphins coursed though you felt like a high. Greedily, the closeness and the way that your head spun made the word slip out of your mouth. 

“More?” 

Changbin said nothing while he indulged you and peppered your skin with kisses in all those places that you didn’t know needed the attention. He would smile into your lips each time that you would come undone; slipping deeper and deeper into him. 

“M-more. I just want...one...more.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Just skipping one class isn’t the end of the world. You know that you look like a mess right?” 

Minho, your assigned seat partner turned friend-in-suffering poked his pencil at the baggy black hoodie that you had forgotten to return. On the bus ride to campus, you had realized that you hadn’t taken it off. 

“I know, alright? You don’t have to remind me.” 

“You gonna tell me about it?” Minho poked at you once more with his teasing grin. You retaliated by raising your phone up as if to chuck it at his head. 

Behind the two of you, a group of two ambitious girls hushed as they organized their plethora of colored pens and highlighters. Minho bowed a little sorry in apology. 

His voice dropped to a whisper, “I’m assuming that this isn’t yours.” 

“I-it’s new. I just haven’t worn it before.” 

He scanned over the fabric and the little white brand on the left sleeve. “Huh. Must be a popular one I guess. I’m pretty sure that my one of my friends has the same one.” 

“--Will you lend me something to write on...and with? I...didn’t bring my stuff with me.”

“Really.” Your classmate tore out a piece of his notebook paper--a little extra loudly as well--just for those eavesdropping girls behind you. “You should’ve just not come.” 

To your left, your phone vibrated with the screen illuminated: 

Low Battery: 20% 

[10:39] 

felix: I can’t believe you. You went over there again? Didn’t you say that he looked at you weird or something like that?? What happened?? 

Your heart dropped a little remembering how you had pardoned Felix’s worried nagging and turned on the Find My Friends feature in your phone. 

“shit.” 

Your phone screen lit up the underside of your table as you frantically tapped through your settings to turn off the slide bar. In the corner of your eye, you had seen Minho take his phone under the table as well. 

[10:41]  

CB: good job leaving your keys at my place 

i can’t get them back to you until much later. i’ve got work. 

“shit.” 

me: i have work until later too 

and sorry 

CB: my roommate said that he could get them to you at 5. you’ll be at the library then? 

me: your roommate?? 

CB: relax. he doesn’t give a shit. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

You read over the messages over and over, refreshing the little chat nearly every two seconds. Over the time waiting, your hand had grown embarrassingly damp, and your foot nervously tapped at the floor to the same tune that your chest thumped with your anxiety. 

This was fucking humiliating. 

Granted, you were no stranger to unsavory behavior, but somehow, this felt even worse. Furthermore, it all could have been avoided: 

What the hell had happened last night? 

It was becoming all too a common theme for you: you didn’t remember falling asleep, only waking up to the blaring of your alarm to those obnoxious Tardis sounds that were just a little too out of date...considering that you had long past all that Dr. Who stuff. 

Changbin had actually left the bed all to you, waking up some time a little before you from sleeping on the couch and offering you some horribly cheap tasting coffee. You still drank it. 

CB: just stand somewhere by the front door. i told him that’s where you’ll be. 

The library overlooked the main quad of your university. In the wintertime, the trees that encircled the usually grassy circle were reduced to craggy and bare fingers powdered in the white snow. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” You scolded yourself though clenched teeth. 

“--Y/n?” 

He had snuck up on you, coming from the right, rather than the front of the entrance. 

You squeaked out, “Oh fuck.” 

Minho twisted your jingling keys around his fingers. 

“This is...” Minho laughed out incredulously, “...a coincidence.” 

You clawed your keys from his hand with a hasty “Thanks.” 

His eyes scanned you up and down as if he was meeting you for the first time, which he certainly wasn’t. 

“The hoodie. Dammit. I should’ve known.” 

“I-I really need to get back inside, they might need me in th--” 

“--So you’ve been screwing him?” 

Your heart thumped even more painfully. 

“Wait, and you’ve been inside my apartment before and I didn’t even know?” 

“Well I didn’t know that you were his roommate!! I didn’t even plan on meeting any of you if I could help it!!” 

“So what is he, like, your type?” 

“HEY. I don’t mean to stay over, it kind of just happens...I didn’t even want to see him after the first time--” 

Minho scoffed then shoved his pink hands into the pockets of his navy and white striped bomber jacket. 

“Will I be seeing you around there now?” 

“--No.” You cut in. “You won’t.” 

Your classmate huffed out a visible breath, “You say that now, but I know that you don’t mean it.” 

“What the hell do you mean?” 

Minho rolled his eyes, then gave the top of your head a chastising pat. 

“If you’re gonna be over, you might as well bring snacks or something. No one in that damn apartment knows how to grocery shop for themselves besides me.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Too many fucking coincidences. 

You had sat yourself at the exact same table that you had sat at the night before, but this time, you watched as it was Changbin who was standing behind the counter of the noodle shop, taking orders, and smiling much too widely for it to have been normal. He was even wearing one of those cutesy little aprons that the rest of the employees had: there was a little chicken embroidered in the corner next to his nametag. 

To anyone else, it made no logical sense why you had decided to show up there: but your frazzled brain still working off your embarrassment from earlier thought this was the best thing to do. You felt like yelling just to get something out of your body. It wasn’t even his fault that his roommate happened to be one of your friends. Your head however, made it his fault. 

He had clocked you from where you had sat fuming, not even looking phased at all. In fact, he had dished out for you one of those smirks. One of those stupid, cute smirks. 

“See you tomorrow.” He clapped his coworker on the back while he took off his apron. 

The shop door creaked out when he opened it. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here. You really wanted to see me that soon already?” 

You shoved the bundle of his hoodie from your hands to his. 

“Here.” 

“You came all this way just to give me my hoodie back? That and I’m assuming Minho told you that I work here.” 

“How come you didn’t tell me that before?” 

“Didn’t seem that important--” 

At last, you let yourself snap. “--You made a fucking fool of me today!! Do you know how awful it was??” 

“Ahhh Minho did say something about knowing you.” 

You had expected sympathy, but rather he teased you with that little cocky grin. Had you known any better, it was almost like he was admiring how flustered you had become. 

One, two, then three fat raindrops fell from from the sky and onto his parka, then the rest followed all at once. The bits of slushy and freezing rain barreled in suddenly and fell sideways. It slapped against the sidewalks and pattered on the shutters and gutters of the buildings lining the road.

“Great! This is just great!!” You pulled your coat over your head. 

Changbin grabbed at your hand without hesitation. “Come with me.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Open the door!! Open the door!!” 

Frozen bits of snow and rain matted your hair and dripped off into your collar; meeting your bare skin. Your entire body felt as if it had been plunged into a freezing cold ocean, and you shook with ferocity. By now, your jeans had completely soaked through with with water and the denim stuck to your legs. 

Changbin fumbled with his wallet and wet fingers, finally unlocking the door with that same, 

ding-ding-diNG! 

The heater in the little vestibule blasted you with heat upon your entrance: a welcome feeling to your drenched body. He had reached out for your hand to guide you to the elevator even though you knew the way. 

Water dropped off your bodies into the linoleum floor of the elevator and it got all muddled too by prints from your shoes. After, you followed him further into the apartment building, to the very place you had sworn up and down that you would never see again. You didn’t know how many more times you would have to say it out loud before you would actually obey your own words. 

“Fuck--it’s so cold.” 

Changbin clinked his keys into the brass keyhole in the long and dank hallway that had matted red velvet carpeting. There was an odd and old-looking stain in front of his door that you had noticed last time. 

“It’ll be warmer inside.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

He didn’t need to, but he reached out to you once more to pull you through the doorframe. A sense of determination seemed to sweep over him, and you could just barely see that stormy expression cloud over his eyes. 

“Ah! Y/n! How nice to see you here officially at last!” 

Minho perked up from his book where he was cuddled up on one of those pleather couches in the living room. 

Changbin didn’t give you a chance to to respond, but rather tugged you away down the hallway to the bathroom at the very end nearest his room. 

“Changbin, what are you--” 

He slammed the door behind the two of you, then flicked on the lights at the exact same time as he crashed his whole body into you, flattening your back against the door and scooping up both sides of your face to run his cold lips over yours. His hands were just as cold, and the tips of his bangs dripped tiny droplets of water onto your forehead. 

In your shock, your hands were suspended in the air, but he just as quickly took them to wrap them around his sides. 

The wooden door rattled a little behind your back, but the sounds faded when he deepened his kiss: floating his tongue over your bottom lip and letting out a breathy little gasp along with it. 

“Fuck. You’re really good at making me want you.” 

His voice had turned grave with his want, and he never broke your gaze while he peeled off every single piece of your soaked clothing. His eyes ravished your bare skin riddled with goosebumps, and he immediately took to kissing into your shoulders and collarbones once he had access. You tried your best to help him take his clothes off too, but instead he pushed your hands away to do the task himself. Once he had finished, he connected his lips with yours. 

“Touch me.” He commanded of you. 

You found the request odd, but you still obliged him, starting by running your hands down this pecs then to his abs and around his waist where you scratched at the skin of his lower back. He did the same to you: tracing gentle fingers down your breasts, then going to kneed at them, tweaking the buds just slightly. It wasn’t for long until he encapsulated you completely into his arms, then drew a line into your spine with his ring finger. 

Your body warmed by the second: skin now set ablaze by his teeth grazing the skin of your neck. 

He drew you along with him, then turned on the water to the shower with a metallic sounding groan. Within a couple minutes the whole room filled with a dense steam. He lead you in to the small compartment, stopping too for a moment to watch the way that the water flowed down your body in little transparent veins.

“You’re perfect.” He whispered into the nape of your neck. 

The showering of water was too loud for you to hear, and it wasn’t like you were paying attention anyway. Your phone vibrated where it at fallen in your mess of clothes on the tiled floor. 

[23:27] 

jisung: what the hell’s been up with you the past few days? 

phone break or something?? 

you didn’t see the other texts I sent you? 

are you doing anything right now? 

...

are you 

ok? 

[perlukafarinn]

Sweeter Than Roses

happy holidays @galaxystiel​ from your @destielsecretsanta2020​ secret santa! sorry this is late but since i didn’t know i would have to pinch hit until a couple of days after posting date, this was the quickest turn-around i could manage. i hope you like it!

Dean loved the holiday season. Of course he did, he made about a quarter of his annual income in December. People liked to eat baked goods on Christmas, go figure.

But he hated the holiday season, too. Every single day was busy, every hour was rush hour. Sometimes he didn’t get the last orders done until an hour after closing. He had seasonal hires, of course, but in the three years since he opened Rolling Scones, he’d always ended up underestimated how much extra help he needed.

Thankfully, things quieted as soon as Christmas was over. The last week of the year, while still busy, was a calm oasis compared to what came before. This meant that for the first time all month, Dean wasn’t busy with twelve other customers when Cas dropped by.

Cas had been coming to Rolling Scones twice a week, like clockwork, ever since he took over the flower shop next door a few months ago. Dean had been sad to see Mildred, the previous owner, go but he’d been prepared to welcome his new neighbor. He’d even set aside a complimentary piece of pie for him, because who didn’t like pie?

The first time Cas had come by, Dean had been so dazed that he almost forgot not to charge him for the pie. Dean hadn’t even thought he had a type when it came to men but here Cas had been to prove him wrong, handsome and charming and weird in the exact right way to come across as endearing rather than awkward. 

He always came about half an hour before the lunch rush, ordering a cup of coffee and a new type of pastry every time. Then he hung around while he ate, talking with Dean if he wasn’t with another customer. 

And yeah, maybe Dean treasured those quiet moments with Cas, learning about flowers and their symbolic meaning and explaining to him how to make the perfectly flaky pie crust. Maybe he looked forward to the days Cas would come by the rest of the week. Maybe he’d added a few items to his menu since Cas started frequenting, just to give him the incentive to keep coming. 

It was called being a good business owner. 

This past month, Cas had come by for his coffee and pastry and taken them to go. He’d been busy, too, so stopping wouldn’t have been an option even if the bakery hadn’t been crowded and Dean hadn’t been on the phone with some asshole who absolutely needed sixty-four macarons in eight different flavors for a holiday party that same evening. 

Today, though, was just a slightly-busier-than-average Monday. For both of them, judging by the foot traffic outside that Dean could see from his spot behind the counter. 

Cas even arrived a little bit earlier than usual, carrying a huge bouquet of red roses.

Dean watched him, amused as Cas navigated his way past the chairs and tables, head just barely poking up past the flowers in his arms.

“What’s this?” he asked as Cas finally arrived at the counter. 

Cas placed the flowers down, giving Dean an abashed smile. “Cancelled order. A young man was intending to propose on Christmas Day but apparently, his girlfriend had different plans.”

“Yikes, poor guy.”

“Yes,” Cas said. “But I felt the bouquet should be enjoyed by someone, so I thought of you.”

Dean grinned. “You’re not planning on proposing, are you? ‘Cause I like you but I don’t think we’re there just yet.”

“For the bakery,” Cas clarified, cheeks growing pink. “I - uh, I thought they might look nice in your window.”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” Dean picked up the bouquet. It was heavier than it looked and up close, the smell of them was almost overwhelming in its sweetness. “Thanks, Cas. I don’t gotta feed them, right?”

“Only water.” 

Dean looked around for some free space for the flowers then, failing to find one, put them back down on the counter. “So, what’ll it be today?”

Cas placed his order - a cup of coffee and a festive peppermint eclair Dean only offered around the holidays - and stood at the counter as he ate, talking with Dean in between customers. As soon as he left, Krissy walked up to Dean and smacked his shoulder.

"He gave you flowers?” 

Dean rubbed the spot she hit - kid was getting stronger by the day. Maybe he should stop making her knead the bread. “Yeah?”

“And you didn’t take the hint and ask him out?” she asked.

“They weren’t for me, they were for the shop. It wasn’t a hint.”

Krissy crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Was it?” Dean asked faintly.

“I know they say your mind starts to go as you grow older but, wow.”

“I’m not that old,” Dean protested. “You’re… young.”

“Nice one, boss.”

“Shut up.” Dean scratched the back of his neck, observing the roses still sitting on the counter. “You’re not messing with me? You really think that was a hint?”

“He gave you red roses. Dude couldn’t have been more obvious if he walked up to you and shoved his tongue down your throat.”

Dean shoved at her. Krissy danced out of reach, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Go man the register," he told her. "You've got customers waiting."

She rolled her eyes but did as told. Dean picked up the bouquet, getting it out of her way, and went to the back to find something to use as a vase. As he looked, he thought about what Krissy had said.

Had Cas meant that gift to be romantic? There were times when they talked that Dean thought his feelings might not be unrequited but then, he usually dismissed it as wishful thinking. Cas had never asked him out. He usually responded to Dean's more overt flirting with a confused but polite smile. That had to mean he wasn't interested and was just too nice to say so, right?

But then again, red roses. Those were objectively the most romantic flower, even Dean knew that. Sure, Cas had said they were for the bakery, but he'd also said I thought of you. He could've thrown them out or donated them or done whatever he did with flowers he couldn't sell. But no, he'd brought them to Dean, because he'd thought of him.

And Dean had gone and screwed it up by making a bad joke. 

He needed to make it up to him. Just asking him out wouldn’t be enough and it wasn’t like he could give Cas flowers back. But, Dean considered, an idea forming in his mind, he could give him something else.

 It took a couple of tries. Dean’s first attempt ended with a soggy middle. His second in burnt edges on the carefully crafted apple/rose petals. His third was perfect, the apples sliced not too thick and not too thin, curling up beautifully in the oven as they dried while still retaining their vibrant red color.

He stared down at his creation, cooling on the counter in his bakery’s kitchen. It was an apple pie and a rose bouquet rolled into one, the apple slices serving as petals arranged on top, sweet and tart just the way Cas liked best. 

Cas wasn’t due for another visit until tomorrow but Dean was too nervous to wait. Both Krissy and Kevin were working today and the lunch rush wouldn’t start just yet, he had the time to drop by next door and deliver his gift. And possibly ask Cas out, put his heart on the line for what might just be a simple misunderstanding of intentions.

No big. A couple of minutes, in and out.

He put the pie on a plate, covering it with cloth for the short trip over to Cas' shop. Krissy dryly wished him good luck on his way out, to which he responded with a raised middle finger.

("Good luck? He's just delivering pie."

"Oh, Kevin.")

Dean had only been inside the flower shop a couple of times since Cas took over. A lot had changed since Mildred left, most noticeable of all a window in the ceiling that let in the pale morning light, shining directly down on the counter where Cas was working alongside a dark-haired woman. He smiled as he spotted Dean at the door, turning to the woman to say something before leaving her alone with the customers and making his way over.

"Hello, Dean." God, had he always looked this beautiful? "What brings you here?"

Dean opened his mouth, then realized that he had no idea what he was going to say. Wordlessly, he shoved the pie at Cas' chest. Cas looked confused but accepted, pulling the cloth away.

"Oh, this is lovely!" Cas looked back up at Dean. "You made this for me?"

Dean shrugged, his ears growing warm. "Just- since you brought me those roses yesterday. Thought I'd bring you something nice in return."

"Thank you, Dean, but there was no need. It wasn't any trouble for me, I had the roses by chance and no one else to give them to."

Dean's stomach sank. So it hadn't been romantic after all. Krissy had been way off and Dean had been desperate enough to believe her.

“It’s, uh, no big.” Dean cleared his throat. He needed to get out of here, quick. “I was gonna test out this technique anyway, so I figured I might as well try it on someone. Anyway, I gotta go back. Busy time, you know how it is.”

Cas nodded. “Thank you again for the pie.”

“No problem.”

 Krissy had the good sense not to say anything when Dean returned less than two minutes after he left. She must have explained to Kevin what was going on because for the rest of the day, the two of them were model employees, quiet and helpful - in other words, nothing like their usual selves.

Dean sent them home early, figuring he’d use the time it would take him to close up by himself to stew in his disappointment and get it out of his system before he got home. He hadn’t lost anything, after all. He and Cas hadn’t broken up. It was just a stupid crush, a passing infatuation, and Cas would still be his friend once he got over it.

He’d be fine.

He’d almost managed to convince himself he believed that whole crock of shit when someone knocked on the door. Dean looked up, ready to tell them off when the bakery was so clearly closed, but stopped short when he saw Cas standing outside, giving him a small wave.

Dean was tempted to pretend he hadn't seen him, or to wave him off under the pretense of needing to close up quickly. 

He'd need to talk to Cas again sooner or later, though. He closed the register, walking up to the door and swinging it open. A cool breeze greeted him. Dean now noticed snowflakes lazily drifting from the sky, covering the ground in soft, powdery snow.

Dean stood aside but Cas remained in the doorway, looking nervous.

"I think I may have misunderstood you earlier," he said. "After you left, Meg told me that the pie was- that it might be a romantic gesture?"

Dean stared at him, his face on fire. Great, so Cas had been completely clueless and this Meg chick had to go and rat him out? And now he was here to, what, make sure Dean knew nothing was going to happen?

"Was it?" Cas prompted after a long silence.

Dean looked away. "Does it matter? Look, I promise I'm not gonna make things awkward if that's what you're worried about. Nothing has to change, I'll get over-"

"There was no proposal," Cas blurted. "I just wanted to give you flowers."

Dean blinked. "You-?"

"I intended to be honest with you but when the moment came, I lost my nerve." Cas smiled sheepishly. "So I made up a story about a botched proposal. The truth is I like you and I've wanted to ask you out for a while."

Dean laughed. He couldn't help it, this situation was beyond ridiculous. 

"I wasn't testing out any new techniques," he admitted. "I just wanted to give you pie."

Cas' smile widened and if he'd been beautiful before it was nothing compared to now, beaming and pink-cheeked, eyes sparkling in the artificial glow of the streetlights. Dean wanted to kiss him so bad and for once, he had no excuse to hold back.

Cas must have been thinking the same thing because they met in the middle, noses bumping in their excitement, before Cas cupped Dean’s cheek and tilted his head, bringing their lips together. It was a sweet kiss and Dean smiled as he could taste the apples and cinnamon on Cas’ lips. 

Dean’s heart was pounding as they parted, stomach fluttering with what felt suspiciously like butterflies. 

“I know offering pastries to a baker might be as useless as offering flowers to a florist,” Cas said, “but I have some pie left over if you’d-”

Dean cut him off with a quick kiss. “Baker or no, I never turn down pie.”

But even with the promise of pie Dean was in no hurry to move and neither, it seemed, was Cas, because they lingered in the doorway, trading kisses until their noses had gone cold and Cas’ dark hair was dusted with melting snowflakes. 

[kasienda]

Right Behind You - Ch 2: Friends

Chapter 1

The silver limo pulled to a stop outside of Adrien’s building. His luxury oversized studio apartment was on the top floor. Adrien didn’t move from his seat, his eyes locked onto the white van parked across the street from the entrance. He couldn’t even come and go as Chat Noir as long as the media had him on stakeout. He wasn’t sure if they’d assume Chat was his lover, or if they’d piece together his identity, but neither possibility was remotely appealing.

He turned to Nino, who was seated beside him, popping the last chouquette into his mouth.

“You sure you want to be seen with me?” Adrien asked. “They might assume you’re my boyfriend.”

Nino shrugged, licking the crumbs off his fingers. “People have assumed far worse about me.” Nino turned to him with a grin. “We could make a show of it if you want?”

Adrien smiled in spite of himself. He couldn’t resist the boyish playful look on Nino’s face. “What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing major. We could hold hands! Just play it up, like we are together.”

Adrien laughed, feeling more than a bit tempted if only to turn the whole situation into a joke, but he didn’t want anyone else swept up in this scandal. Especially not Nino who already did so much for him. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t want you or your family being harassed by reporters if it’s not even real.”

“We could handle it,” Nino insisted, his grin never fading.

“I’m not saying you couldn’t.” Though Adrien wasn’t sure if that was truly the case. Adrien knew that Nino wasn’t out with his family. He wasn’t going to force Nino to have that conversation before he was ready even if he did have the option of saying it was all for show. “I just… if you have to handle it, I want it to be for real.”

“Fine. Be that way,” Nino said, pouting.

“It almost seems like you want to be mistaken for my boyfriend,” Adrien teased.

Nino’s gaze turned towards the window. “If people think you’re taken maybe they’d be less likely to think they can get away with scamming you on the street.”

Adrien’s chest bloomed in warmth, and his lips stretched into another smile. He was never sure what he had done to earn Nino’s friendship, but he could no longer imagine what his life would be like without Nino’s warm, and often forceful, support.

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Nino undid his seat belt, leaned forward, and clapped a hand onto Ezra’s shoulder. “Thanks Big G! Hope you have a good one!”

His bodyguard nodded acknowledgement, but didn’t smile. Ezra never smiled while on the clock. Adrien had no idea how he managed it.

Nino opened the door and exited the vehicle.

Adrien undid his own seatbelt. “Thank you, Ezra. You don’t need to stick around. I’m planning on hiding away all day. I’ll text you if that changes.”

The large man nodded, pointed his large index finger at Adrien’s chest, and signed an okay sign with raised eyebrows.

Adrien shrugged. “I’m… better than I was. I’ll be okay. Thanks for asking.”

Ezra pushed a knuckle to his own chin, flicking it upwards.

“I need to keep my chin up?” Adrien guessed.

The gruff man nodded. He still didn’t smile.

But Adrien did. “I promise I will try. See you tomorrow, Ezra.”

Then he exited the vehicle, and broke into a trot to catch up to Nino who was waiting at the top of the stairs in front of the double doors that led into the building. One short elevator ride later, they arrived at his front door.

The door swung open and they were greeted with the amazing smell of raspberry and flaky crust. Adrien kicked off his shoes, and glanced across the open floor plan towards the kitchen. Sure enough, Marinette was there, headphones in either ear, facing away from them as she wiped down the counter, which was dusted in flour.

When he had signed a lease, the elaborate space with marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and an island prep space with a built in gas stove had all seemed remarkably excessive for him when he barely knew how to use a microwave. To this day, he ordered out more often than not. When he had first moved in four years prior, Marinette and Alya both refused to let the amazing set up go unused. And he was often spoiled with five star dinners from Alya, and baked perfection from Marinette. But Alya had left Paris for university, and Marinette had started coming around less and less often unless the whole gang had plans.

But she was here today and he was grateful.

Nino settled onto a high stool in front of the island, opposite Marinette.

“Marinette?” Adrien called loudly, hoping to be heard over whatever she was listening to.

She whirled around immediately, her blue eyes jumping up to his face. She tore the headphones out of her ears and threw herself at him. Her slender arms were quickly around his neck. He closed his eyes and basked in her comforting warmth against his chest.

“I came as soon as Nino texted me. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he assured her, letting his chin rest on her shoulder. “It’s really good to see you.”

She pulled away, and stared into his eyes. He felt like he was being measured, but he couldn’t help the soft smile that grew on his face watching her so intently focused before she pulled him into a hug again.

“It’s been too long,” she agreed. It hadn’t been that long. Maybe two or three months, but once upon a time he had been unable to go a week without her dropping by at least once. “How can I help?”

Adrien let her pull away. “Tell me what smells so good and tell me it’s ready to be devoured right now.” He and Nino had just polished off a box of chouquettes from her parent’s bakery, but today felt like the perfect day for total self indulgence.

She laughed. “What you’re smelling is a raspberry torte, but it has to refrigerate for at least six hours. Papa says it’s better if you leave it overnight, but I’m never patient enough for that. It’s for round two later this afternoon. I was going to start on a batch of snickerdoodles next. Should only take about thirty minutes before we can partake!”

“Can I help?” he asked.

She grinned. “Absolutely!”

“The usual cookie ingredients?”

She nodded, “And cinnamon! Oh and do you happen to have cream of tartar? I already took out butter earlier.”

“Yeah, I keep all your baking ingredients in stock. I’ve learned I miss out if I don’t!” He grinned as he handed her a mixing bowl, and a large wooden spoon.

Nino had buried his head in his arms resting on the counter. Adrien poked him as he passed by with baking soda in hand. “You know there’s an extra bed right there,” he said, gesturing past the living area filled with leather sofas and ottomans to the guest “bedroom”.

It wasn’t really a guest room, as it didn’t have any walls. But the lack of walls was the whole reason he had elected to go for the studio over the three bedroom flat. He never felt trapped when the whole living space was one giant room. Even the wall to the balcony was made entirely of glass giving the illusion that the room extended into the open air around the building, but it was higher than any of the surrounding buildings meaning no one could really get a good view inside unless he was standing right at the window. A necessary consideration for a part-time superhero.

“Too far away,” Nino grumbled into his forearms. “I’m fine right here.”

“Suit yourself.”

A cell phone rang, and Nino immediately bolted to a sitting position, pulling out his device from the pocket of his green hoodie. He grinned at it, flashing the screen towards Adrien.

Nathalie Sancoer was calling.

“Mlle. Sancoer, I was expecting your call!” Nino answered, his voice positively gleeful as he mimed towards Adrien’s pocket.

“M. Lahiffe,” was the dry response on the other end, loud enough that Adrien and Marinette could hear.

Adrien pulled up his missed call log. Four missed calls from Chloé, one from Kagami, another from Marinette, and six from Nathalie. He held up the device to Nino with a resigned sigh.

His friend fist pumped in silent victory. Adrien supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to lose the bet. “Ms. Sancoer, give me just a moment.” Nino muted the call. “I’m going to head out to the balcony. I might be a while.”

Negotiations apparently took time. Adrien seriously didn’t know what he had ever done to deserve a friend like Nino. “It’s all yours!”

Nino left out the back, and Marinette turned puzzled eyes toward him. “What was that all about?”

“They’re negotiating over me,” he explained, as he fished out white and brown sugar from his cupboards.

“What,” she said, her voice flat.

Adrien chuckled. “Father wants to talk to me, but he is unwilling to call himself. He makes Nathalie call me, and I’m not taking or returning her calls. My father apparently doesn’t find that to be an acceptable excuse for her being unable to get through to me, so when that happens she calls Nino and bribes him to get me to call her back.”

“That is awful.”

Adrien retrieved a couple eggs from the refrigerator. “No, it’s good! He gets her to take away a photo shoot here or there, or frees up my schedule so I can hang out with you and the gang.”

“That is still terrible! Adrien! I knew your father was strict and controlling and insufferable in so many ways! But Nino having to serve as your union representative? That is a new low! How long have you had to bargain this way?”

He ignored the question. He didn’t know the answer. It had been going on long before Nino started making it easier. “It’s how I got to have more control over my studies without being disinherited. For reasons I don’t understand, Nathalie listens to Nino more than she does me. And father listens to Nathalie and no one else. These are the tools I have, and I’m not going to be ashamed of using them. Fancy physics degrees don’t pay for themselves after all.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “I never said you should be ashamed. I just… I wish none of it was necessary.”

He shrugged. “That makes two of us. We never planned to do this. She just called Nino once when she couldn’t get a hold of me. I never asked him to go to bat for me.”

“Nino’s just awesome like that.”

“He most definitely is!” Adrien agreed enthusiastically, placing a bag of flour and the cream of tartar on the counter next to Marinette’s mixing bowl. “So… is that everything you need?”

Her eyes scanned over the items, as she silently mouthed the ingredients while counting them off on her hands.

“Just missing salt,” she concluded.

“Salt. Of course.” He retrieved the condiment from the third cupboard to the right.

“Are you really okay?” she asked him as he handed her the last ingredient.

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’m mostly just embarrassed.”

She frowned, her eyes shining with concern. “I imagine it hurts too though. To think you’re having a moment only to find someone is lying to you the whole time?”

“I only knew him for a day,” he insisted, but he couldn't meet her eyes.

”If you say so. I’ve managed to fall in love in a day before,” she admitted softly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’ve done that before, too. It hasn’t panned out for me though. You?”

Her eyes avoided his, intent on scraping the butter off its paper wrapper and into the stainless steel bowl. “Not as of yet.”

Her sadness hit him in the chest. “We make quite the depressing pair, don’t we?”

She scowled, her lips pursed to the side of her face. “No! Not today! Today, we’re indulging ourselves in baked goods, and maybe Chloé will bring some good wine and we can get tipsy.”

He laughed. “I like your plan. How much sugar?” he asked, holding up the bag.

“Umm… 150 grams.”

And quickly they fell into a rhythm almost not needing words. It was strange to him how easy it was to follow Marinette’s line of thinking, but as they had gotten older, it had only gotten easier.

Now, what she was feeling? He had no idea. She was as much as mystery to him now as she had been their first year of college.

“Did you ever hear back from Dior?” he asked into the silence.

Her whole form slumped, and he wished he hadn’t brought it up.

“Not good news, I take it?” he asked as he added the last portion of flour into the mixing bowl.

She growled. “The worst part is they left me glowing feedback. Practical and fashionable at the same time, they said.” Her stirring took on a furious pace, and flour burst into the air between them. He chose not to comment. “They had no criticisms to offer except that it wasn’t what they were looking for. I just wish they would tell you what they were looking for so that I could design with that theme in mind.”

“I don’t think they want to give away to the competition what they’re thinking.”

She groaned. “That makes sense. I just… I think I could deliver what they wanted.”

“I could talk to my father if you wanted?”

She dropped the wooden spoon and jerked her head towards him. “Absolutely not! You will not owe that man any favors on my account.”

“I bet New York would still take you, if you reached out. They seemed really excited about the possibility of you on their team. And you seemed so excited with their design philosophy.”

Her eyes turned glassy, threatening tears. “You’re probably right,” she whispered. “They probably would still take me…”

He turned her away from the counter and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. She trembled in his embrace. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he told her softly.

She shook her head. “I-It’s not your fault,” she stammered through her tears. “I was… already a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off.

“I’m not pressuring you to leave Paris if you’re set against it. I would miss you if you were gone,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

She pulled away and offered him a watery smile. “I would miss you, too.”

The front door clicked open. Adrien didn’t spare it a glance, knowing it was likely Chloé. Kagami always knocked despite the fact that she had a key. His attention remained on Marinette.

She wiped her tears away. “Enough about me!” she exclaimed. “Today is supposed to be about cheering you up!”

“Maybe if I could make you feel better I would feel better,” he told her, his lips quirking upwards in a sideways smile.

Marinette giggled. “That’s sweet. But I’m a bit of a lost cause at the moment. Maybe it would make me feel better to make you feel better!”

Chloé’s heels clicked definitely as she stepped into the tile floor of the kitchen.

“Are you two seriously arguing about who gets to make who feel better?” she growled out in exasperated greeting.

“Uh… maybe?” Marinette hedged, turning away from Adrien’s comfort and back towards the cookies in progress. She soon was rolling out little balls of dough and lining them up on a baking sheet.

Chloé shook her head, mumbling something under her breath. But she didn’t comment further on how ridiculous they were. Instead, she wrapped Adrien in a tight embrace. “Are you okay, Adri-kins?” she whispered.

He nodded into her shoulder. “I am with you here.”

She squeezed him harder. There had been a time when she would have scoffed at such a statement. But a random off topic tangential lesson on recognizing abusive relationships in tenth grade Literature, a fortune spent on intensive therapy, and time spent in self reflection, his oldest friend had become someone he could rely on again.

She pulled back, and scooped out a spoon of cookie dough from the bowl, and began licking it.

“Hey!” Marinette objected. “Those aren’t done yet!”

“I hate to break it to you, Dupain-Cheng, but they are better this way.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but didn’t comment as she dipped a cup in a sugar cinnamon mixture and then pressed the cup gently into each ball of dough.

Chloé turned to Adrien again. “So, what can you tell us? Who are we plotting revenge against?”

Adrien groaned. “No! No revenge.”

Chloé patted his shoulder consolingly. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to be a part of it at all. I’ll take care of it. I’m sure Tsurugi will help. You in Dupain-Cheng?”

Marinette cocked her head, her gaze considered the ceiling. “Yeah… I think I am.”

“Marinette!” he hissed.

“What?!” Marinette exclaimed. “Someone goes after my friend? After you? And you want me to just let it go?”

“Yesss!” Chloé grinned. “Welcome to the dark side, Dupain-Cheng.” She offered a fist, which Marinette reciprocated.

“No,” Adrien repeated firmly. Chloé remained unmoved while Marinette shifted more nervously from foot to foot. “I’m serious. No revenge! That won’t make this go away any faster. And it won’t make me feel any better.”

Chloé stared at him, her face a mask of stoicism. “Is it so bad that we want to protect you?”

“Chloé, please,” he begged. “Promise me. No revenge.”

Chloé pouted, glancing down at her nails. “You’re absolutely no fun.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, very aware that she had promised nothing. “Oh, I’m so sorry to ruin your day.”

Marinette threw her arms around him again. “We’re so sorry.”

“Speak for yourself,” Chloé said. “I have nothing to apologize for.”

Marinette and Adrien shared an eye roll, but a knock at the door suppressed any comeback from either of them.

Adrien shook his head. “I’m going to go remind Kagami for the thousandth time that she has a key.”

He swung the door open revealing Kagami in a deep red business suit. She always looked good in the color. He was more than a bit envious.

She stepped forward and they exchanged the formal la bise greetings before they stepped back into the entryway of his studio.

“Coming from the office?” he asked, as he took her coat and scarf.

“An interview. A potential psychologist to add to our founding team. She is somewhat an expert on assessment and screening for red flags that could be indicative of current or past trauma among children and adolescents.”

He grinned. “That’s fantastic! I know I’ve already said it a dozen times before, but I think this foundation for neglected and abused children you and Chloé have started is amazing. I just can’t help but wonder how much better off she and I would have been if someone had caught us earlier in our lives.” And maybe Kagami too, even if her situation could be classified slightly differently.

Kagami lips stretched into a fond smile. “I don’t know that you could be better than you are. You have so much integrity and resilience. I have always looked up to you.”

Adrien felt the heat burning to the back of his neck. He really needed to get better at taking compliments.

“I have always looked up to you, too, Kagami.”

She nodded in formal acknowledgement. “Before I forget, my mother wishes you good luck in light of your scandal, and offers the use of her PI if you want to check this guy out.”

He groaned. “Not you, too.”

She chuckled. “I told my mother you likely would not make use of her offer.”

“I’m sure that went over well,” he commented, his voice flat.

Kagami laughed. “She said you were foolish and naive to not go out of your way to protect your family legacy and honor from those that would besmirch it.”

“I wish I could say she was wrong, but it sounds like she has me pegged.”

“Would you two stop standing awkwardly in the doorway and come in?” Chloé called. She was sprawled elegantly across the corner of the black leather couch nursing another spoonful of cookie dough in one hand, and a glass of red wine in the other. Nino sat in the recliner, his red hat over his face. Adrien hoped he was actually asleep, but he had his doubts. Marinette remained in the kitchen, sliding her first sheet of cookies into the oven. He knew she would prepare a second before joining them in the living area.

Kagami took a seat on the opposite side of the couch of Chloé leaving the space between them for Adrien.

“Tsurugi! The suspense is killing me!” Chloé whined. “That report you just gave to Adrien was carefully neutral. How did it go?”

Kagami grinned. “I do enjoy giving you a hard time, but that was not my intention this time. I think it went really well.”

Chloé literally squealed and threw her hands up in a miniature victory dance without spilling any of her wine.

“You’re awfully excited,” Marinette commented with an amused grin. “Who were you interviewing?”

Chloé spun back towards the kitchen island where Marinette was dusting another twelve cookies in her cinnamon sugar mixture. “You don’t understand!” Chloé exclaimed. “This woman was amazing! It’s like she could have written our mission statement! She had so many ideas for how children in abusive situations could be identified earlier, for what type of education is needed for children to recognize harmful situations themselves. And she somehow projected this aura of such gentleness. She would be so approachable. And yet, it didn’t diminish her passion at all!”

“You fell in love didn’t you?” Adrien smirked at her.

She turned back to him, and held up two manicured fingernails a centimeter apart. “Only a little bit.” Her blue eyes immediately shifted to Kagami. “But that’s not why I want to hire her! She will be an asset in getting the foundation off the ground!”

Kagami nodded. “No, I agree with you. She’s a good fit. I would like to make her an offer.”

“Tsurugi!” Chloé whined. “Why haven’t you already done that? I already told you I wanted to hire her! She’s going to be snatched up so quickly!”

“No, you didn’t. You told me you wanted to date her,” Kagami countered matter of factly.

Chloé spluttered, and then blushed. Everyone else laughed, including Nino, which definitely meant he wasn’t asleep. Adrien would have to fix that. “Can we talk about something else please?” she begged.

As if the universe had heard her, a siren blared right outside the building. Chloé immediately bolted for the window. She pushed aside the curtain and peered down into the street below, her lips stretching into a smile as satisfied as the cat who had found the camembert.

“Chloé?” Adrien asked, his voice dripping with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“Mwah?” she asked, her painted nails flared out to her chest dramatically with complete innocence. “I only did my civic duty by reporting someone that looked exactly like the wanted poster down at the precinct this morning hanging out in a creepy unmarked van.”

“Chloé!” Marinette scolded, but she was grinning as she peaked through the drapes over Chloé’s shoulder. “That’s terrible!”

“Efficient,” Kagami disagreed.

“He was doing nothing wrong,” Adrien said.

“Nothing illegal, maybe,” Nino said, replacing his hat onto the top of his head, revealing his face once again.

“Did he really deserve to be arrested?” Adrien asked, but it was clear that he was the minority in this debate.

Chloé’s blue eyes pinned him in place. “Do you really want them to have you under surveillance like that? That kind of trash understands only one thing! Power.”

Adrien sighed. “No, but there were other ways to take care of it.”

Chloé shook her head. “Adrien, you are amazing, and I love you! But you are way too nice! It’s not like he’s a journalist speaking truth to power! It’s not like he’s going after some corrupt asshole that profits off the plights of others while not paying his taxes.”

“You’d sick righteous reporters on your parents like that?” Nino teased. He was clearly trying to deflect the subject. “Harsh.”

“Though not undeserved.” Kagami added. She and Nino exchanged a fist bump across the open expanse between the sofa and his lounge chair.

“Can it, both of you!” Chloé snapped, shooting a glare towards both of them from the window.

Nino chuckled. He rolled out of the recliner and took over Chloé’s vacated seat next to Adrien.

The oven timer went off, and Marinette scurried from the window back into the kitchen. “Who wants cookies?”

“Just bring a giant plate!” Chloé called back. “We’ll eat everything.”

Seconds later, there was a crash, and a scream from the kitchen. Adrien bolted to his feet and ran to her side, Kagami less than an arm length behind him.

Marinette’s hands wrapped protectively over her head, she was surrounded by broken glass.

Adrien tread carefully around the largest fragments to put a hand on her shoulder.

She peeked out from under her hands to him. “I’m okay,” she said.

“What happened?” Adrien asked.

“Just me being my usual clumsy self,” she said, her voice dripping with self deprecation.

Kagami handed him the broom and he immediately started sweeping up the glass, starting with the area closest to Marinette.

Marinette sighed, dropping her arms completely to her side. “I just was reaching for another wine glass, but I couldn’t quite reach it. In trying to urge it closer, I overdid it, and the two glasses went flying.”

Kagami tisked in disapproval. “Perhaps, next time you should just ask for help?”

Marinette nodded in agreement. ”Yes, I’m sorry for being stubbornly independent.” She turned her gaze back to Adrien. “And I’m sorry for breaking your glasses. I will replace them.”

Adrien shook his head. “Please don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay. And I do wish you let us help you when you need it.”

Marinette snorted. “You’re one to talk.”

He grinned. “Touché.”

Kagami held the dustpan and he swept the glass into the tray.

“Do you have a mop?” Kagami asked.

When he handed her the requested item, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Would you mind letting me do this part? I wanted to talk to Marinetted about something.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind helping.”

“I got this,” Kagami insisted.

He nodded, and turned back to Marinette who hadn’t moved since the glasses had fallen. “Are you okay?”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m… I’ll be fine. You should get back to your party. Kagami and I can finish cleaning this up.”

It was obvious he was being dismissed. “Okay, well, let me know if either of you need help finding anything.”

Adrien let himself fall back onto the couch next to Nino. His head flopped back onto the couch, his gaze locked on the ceiling.

“Marinette okay?” Chloé asked. She had taken Nino’s former seat in the lounge chair.

“Just rattled, I think,” he reported. “They kicked me out. Kagami wanted to talk to Marinette about something.”

“Ooh!” Chloé leapt to her feet. “I think I want in on this conversation! Excuse me!”

Adrien sighed again.

“If all the revenge talk really bothers you, I will get them to stop,” Nino told him softly after a moment of silence.

Adrien smiled. “Thank you for the offer. I do appreciate that everyone is all protective. It’s really nice to have you all on my side. I just… I also want this to be over. Ideally, I never want to have to think about it again after I talk to my father.”

Nino nodded. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. You do get why they want to go after this guy though, right?”

Adrien shrugged. “Maybe?” He understood it intellectually he supposed, but emotionally, revenge had never made sense to him.

“Imagine it was you mystery girl on that tabloid instead of you. Where you can look at the picture and she looks happier than you’ve seen her in a long time.”

“Is it really that rare to see me smile?” Adrien objected.

“Have you seen this pic?” Nino asked, whipping out his phone, swiping through his apps. “It is not just a smile!”

“Please don’t make me look at it,” Adrien begged, turning away from Nino’s phone, towards the kitchen.

Marinette giggled at something Kagami had just said, and Adrien found himself smiling fondly at the pair.

“Yeah, fine,” Nino continued. “But again, she looks amazingly happy, and you now know that the person who was kissing her was lying. That in fact, the whole image is a lie. And she’s hurting somewhere after the fact because of it. Wouldn’t you want to do something?”

“Yeah okay,” Adrien conceded. “I get your point. And for the record, that would be the case if it had been any of you.”

“Good! So, if you’re willing to stand up for others, why won’t you ever let us stand up for you?”

Adrien hadn’t really thought about it in those terms. Was he just being stubbornly independent? Thinking he should be able to manage everything himself? Or did he believe deep down that he wasn’t worthy of being defended.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. That was a therapy session for another day.

“How did the phone call with Nathalie go?” Adrien asked, intentionally changing the topic.

A grin bloomed across Nino’s face.“Pretty good for you, I think? We managed to get five am fittings until you complete your masters degree. She wouldn’t commit to an indefinite change.”

Adren didn’t know why Nino used the “we” pronoun in his summary. His friend was the one doing all the work in negotiating out a deal. If Nino wasn’t already running a successful DJ business, Adrien would have pushed his friend to become a lawyer.

“Nino, that’s literally a year or more. Thank you. When do I have to talk to my father?”

“Eleven tomorrow morning. At the mansion.”

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. He may have wanted to do his fittings first thing, but it would be nice to have time to mentally prepare in the morning before seeing his father.

“You’re the best.” It felt like a weight had been lifted from Adrien’s shoulders. With an appointment on the books with his father and his friends all in the room, his phone would finally stop blowing up. He could almost pretend it was a normal day.  

“Anything for my best bro,” Nino said, offering a fist bump. He yawned in the middle of it.

“You should get some rest,” Adrien suggested.

Golden eyes turned toward him with eyebrows raised. “You didn’t get any sleep last night either, mec. Want to follow your own advice?”

Adrien barked a laugh. “I would love to, but I don’t think my brain shut up long enough to let me yet. It’s better to be distracted by all of you until I’m bone-dead tired. But you got everyone here, so if you want to take a shift off, I’m good for a while.”

Nino started to nod when there was a knock at the door. He jumped up to answer it.

“Isn’t everyone here already?” Adrien called after him.

“Not everyone,” Nino reported and answered the door. Alya Césaire stood on the other side of the threshold, and Adrien grinned at her unexpected presence. Last he heard, Alya had been chasing some International drug cartel in Italy.

“Hey Al,” Nino greeted as he enveloped her in a warm hug.

Adrien smiled at how well they fit together. He still didn’t understand why they had broken up. He rose to his feet to greet her, but a squealing Marinette came running from the kitchen, tackling Alya the second Nino had pulled away.

“I didn’t know you were in town!” Marinette exclaimed, a huge grin lighting up her features.

“Yeah, I honestly didn’t think I’d have time to see anyone so I was trying to keep it hush hush, but then I saw that headline…” she trailed off, her hazel eyes landing on him with a sympathetic smile from over Marinette’s shoulder.

“Say no more! You are totally welcome to be an honorary member of the “protect Adrien Agreste squad!” Marinette squealed happily as she pulled away.

Alya swept him up in a hug next, with Marinette and Nino joining in from behind him. He let himself melt into their protective holds. Once upon a time, the four of them had been as thick as thieves, and he had missed their dynamic.

“I called Nino as soon as I saw,” Alya confessed as they broke apart. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you myself. I just figured you would be more comfortable hearing from him, but if you ever need to talk about anything, please reach out.”

Adrien’s gaze landed on Nino who was grimacing over Alya’s shoulder. “Liar! I knew there was no way you were up that early.”

Alya laughed, her sparkling eyes flicking back toward Nino. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was getting anyone in trouble.”

Nino waved away her apology.

Marientte quickly ushered them all inside and back to the leather sofas. Soon, the six of them all sat around the plate of snicker doodles and with glasses of wine in hand.

“Spill Césaire!” Chloé demanded.

“About?”

Chloé rolled her eyes. “Stop. I know you’ve already done your research on this bastard that landed Adri-kins in the tabloids, and have a half formed plan for vengeance. So tell us what you’ve discovered so we can get it on it.”

Alya set her glass of wine on the center coffee table with a sigh. “You don’t want to know.”

Chloé scoffed. “What do you mean? Of course I want to know!”

“He recently graduated university,” Alya reported. “Majored in theater and minored in physics.”

Huh. Adrien hadn’t expected that. Maybe the conman hadn’t feigned his interest in Adrien’s research after all. He frowned. Or maybe, he had been hired specifically because he had the expertise to feign interest.

Nino’s head fell onto Adrien’s shoulder. His golden eyes had finally fallen victim to Nino’s sleep deprivation. Adrien couldn’t help the fond smile that stretched across his face as he adjusted his arms to make his lean form a more comfortable pillow.

“He hasn’t landed a job in about six months,” Alya continued, “and apparently he has some crippling debt.”

“That doesn’t justify…” Marinette broke in.

Alya barreled over the interruption. “Medical debt. For his… kid sister.”

“Ugh! Just stop!” Chloé cut in. “You’re right! I don’t want to know if you’re just gonna make me feel sorry for this guy.”

Alya smirked. “The trashy tabloid that hired him, though?”

“Now we’re talking!” Chloé exclaimed gleefully. Even Kagmai leaned forward with her elbows on her knees to listen to Alya’s research.

Adrien let his own eyes fall closed and he leaned into Nino’s warmth only half listening to his friends as they plotted and schemed.

Soon he was dozing in and out, finding comfort in the familiar righteous voices that spiraled around him.

Alya wanted to sink this online tabloid that had a reputation for going after easy personal scandals of celebrities and regular people alike. Chloé had connections that could crash the server for a solid week. Kagami has strategies and clout to encourage divestment from the organization. And of course Marinette’s crafty mind worked to tie it all together in a plan so bizarre, it was worthy of Ladybug so it couldn’t be traced back to Adrien or any of them.

Despite his own misgivings, it felt really good to have them all so willing to pour in hours and resources to come to his defense. And if the tabloid couldn’t hurt anyone else, Adrien definitely could get on board.

“I’m so glad you’re all on my side,” Adrien interjected, sleepily after about an hour. These were four women you did not want to cross. “I’d never survive your combined wrath.”

Their laughter melted together in the best kind of harmony.

A second later his phone buzzed in his pocket. He slowly fished it out, careful not to disturb Nino who remained on his shoulder - still as a rock.

Marinette had sent him a picture. He opened it to reveal him and Nino curled up on his black leather couch seemingly asleep with the tagline “I slept with my best friend” scrawled across the bottom in elegant cursive. He flashed her a smile and she grinned back.

Thank you, he texted. I’m going to frame this.

yw. The two of you are too cute.

Before he could craft a response, all their phones went off at once, and Adrien’s contentment evaporated like liquid nitrogen on a laboratory floor. The simultaneous alert could only mean one thing.

Nino sat up, his thumb and forefinger rubbing at his eyes.

“Shit!” Chloe muttered. “It’s at the office.” She glanced at Kagami. “We have to go.”

Kagami gave a stoic nod and rose to her feet gracefully.

Alya was only a second behind her. “I should probably go, too. To make sure the twins stay out of trouble.”

Adrien nodded and waved her away with a smile understanding completely. Alya’s twin sisters running the Ladyblog were somehow more reckless than Alya had ever been.

Marinette didn’t even offer an excuse. She just gave him a hug, grabbed her purse, and ran out the door.

Nino stood as well, but he lingered. “You going to be okay, mec?”

Adrien nodded, grateful that his friends had learned over the years to make themselves scarce during an akuma attack. They believed he was contacting his bodyguard for added protection under his father’s orders. He wished he could tell them the truth.

And within a minute, Adrien stood alone in his lavish studio save for Plagg who came out of hiding the second the front door had closed behind Nino.

“Stupid akuma,” Adrien muttered under his breath. His friends would have stayed until two in the morning had the alert not gone off.

Adrien called for his transformation and stood on his own balcony with his eyes closed for a second, letting the chill breeze whip his hair around. A moment later he activated his baton and vaulted into the Parisian sky.

A hero’s work was never done.

…

Chapter 3: Akuma

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Dew Covered Rose

A/N: So we’re ignoring the fact that I haven’t written in like......two, three months. I honestly just haven’t felt like it, and my brain has been busy thinking about writing, or getting back to my daydreams, or thinking about Midnight. Comfort character tingz. But yeah, I’m bringing Topazi back (i also forgot when juneteenth was, I was supposed to do something for her then, I missed the day, but here I made up for it :) This is mild hurt/comfort, except my OC is tired, not hurt. Also this is probably time to mention that Topazi is a gardener, and goes to clients houses to plant things for them! Enjoy!

Tag List: @joz-stankovich, @misskittysmagicportal, @badsext, @super-unpredictable98, @the-freckled-luba, @magic-multicolored-miracle, @ghouls-buddy, @maerenee930, @frogs--are--bitches, @neuroticpuppy, @forenschik, @bisexualnathanyoung, @robert-sheehan, @firstpersonnarrator, @salvador-daley

Warnings: kinda unsafe driving bc sleep deprivation, brief mentions of nudity, swearing

  Topazi had a bit of a tiring day. The house that she’d been working at had almost no shade. The customers were as nice as they could be.....but it seemed as though every tulip that she planted correctly, they would request it to be put in a different place. Even though there was an extremely limited amount of space that she had to work with. It was very frustrating to her, to be honest. However, she got the job done. It took hours of her digging things back up and wiping sweat off of her face to be happy with the result. She was sure to make sure that everything was as good as it could be before the left for home. Even the thought of having to get back in her car and do something other than cuddle up and or sleep was killing her.

  It was late into the night, and the owl in the front yard stared at her as she pulled into the driveway, eyes barely open. She took multiple deep breaths and rubbed a calloused hand over her face before stepping out of the car, not even bothering to take her tools out of the trunk. She trudged her way into the house, carefully unlocking the door, as to not disturb Klaus, who should’ve been close to sleep, or in bed at that point. She tossed the keys into the bowl by the door, and hung her coat up, silently grimacing at the soreness already developing in her arms. 

  Not having the energy to call out to Klaus, she walked into the kitchen, finding one of the cats on top of the kitchen island, fast asleep. A small smile found its way onto her face as she gently pet it, smoothing down the fur on top of her face. She made her way over to the fridge, which she opened, very slowly, to find leftovers of spaghetti that Klaus had cooked for himself. She could never stand the noodles and sauce together, so she looked around for more things. Canned soup in the pantry....she’d have to heat it up, and she needed something instant. Juice wouldn’t be filling enough. She began to nod off, looking at the fridge once more, and she found a solution that she’d looked over. A sandwich.

“Thank fuck for bread.” she thought to herself as she grabbed the bologna, mayonnaise, and cheese slices from their respective spots before grabbing a knife and paper towel. By the time she put the bread back, her sleep levels had reached almost the maximum, and she began nodding off, head on the side of the fridge. She quickly came to her senses, and trotted back over to the island, joints creaking.

  She sat down on one of the stools on the kitchen island. (”Klaus, I need the stools, if my legs don’t look like a pretzel, I’m not sitting correctly.”) As she took a bite of her sandwich (crust first), her brain decided to shut down temporarily, and she almost fell asleep eating. The suds episode of Spongebob Squarepants, however, prevented her from doing so. She slowly ate the sandwich, grateful for the purpose that it served. After she finished her first bite, however, she completely knocked out. The cat woke up, looking at her owner, before hopping off of the counter, and walking up the stairs.

  Klaus had heard Topazi come home, but it’d been a while since he heard her open the fridge last, so he went to check on her. He avoided Minnie on the steps (as in Minnie Riperton, not the mouse) and walked into the kitchen, to find his lover fast asleep, small snores coming from her mouth. He smiled, almost letting a chuckle past his lips when he realized his task.

 “She looks fucking wasted.” he thought, before gently shaking her awake, resulting in a groan of annoyance.

“Come on T, you gotta get to bed.” he whispered, rubbing her back. She leaned against his chest, and shook her head into it, too tired to utter a rebuttal.

  Klaus chuckled lightly, and put Topazi’s used paper towel in the trash can, and her utensils in the sink, to be washed when he eventually came back down for his late night (and sometimes morning) snack. He gently picked her up, leaning down to press a small kiss to her forehead. He thought back simply how much he just loved her. He didn’t know how, as he said that “I can’t fall for someone completely. At least not again.” but he did. Although, it wasn’t completely all at once though. 

 Klaus made his way up the steps (once more avoiding Minnie), and into their shared bedroom where he gently laid Topazi down on the bed. He figured that she may want to be clean when she slept as well, but was somewhat confused how he was to go about the entire “my partner is half asleep and I’d hate to disrespect her boundaries”. So, he settled on simply getting rid of her outer clothes, and bra, then placing nightie over her form. It was one of the newer ones she’d bought. She would go on and on about how “there’s tiny flowers on this nightgown Klaus, I need to buy it”.....ah he loves Topazi with all of his heart.

  He gently tucked his lover into bed, making sure that she’s close enough to her phone that she won’t be grouchy about having to move from her spot in order to reach it. Topazi stirred in her slumber, but only a bit, and Klaus went down to the kitchen for his meal, which was going to be a good old fashioned lover boy nutter butter. Klaus thought back to when he first met Topazi as he ate his sandwich. It had been right after he met his....other siblings...like other other siblings. She was quietly sitting in a coffee shop, where she had her knees to her chest, reading a book. She was deep in concentration, but when Klaus found nowhere to sit, he had no choice but to ask her. (or to leave the shop and drink his hot chocolate elsewhere, but nah)

“Um, can I sit here?” he asked, pointing to the seat. She nodded her head without looking up, making a small noise of affirmation at the back of her throat. Klaus sat in the booth across from her, his shoes making a squeaky noise on the tile below. He awkwardly crosses his legs, taking small sips of the drink.

“What are you reading?” he asked, eyebrows quirked upwards. She gently lifted her book, and it read “The Human Anatomy, Down to the Bone Cell” He hmmed in acknowledgement, and resorted to looking out of the window. 

 The drops of rain raced each other on the windowsill, determined for few seconds at a time, only to puddle together in the end. Klaus stared at a single corner outside, where nobody seemed to be walking over. It was the crack where the sidewalk met the much smaller border of the sidewalk. He watched the rainwater trickle into it, and he felt himself start to zone out. But that was alright...he needed time to think.

  This, in turn, was perfect for Topazi to stop reading her book and stare at this stranger. New people aren’t really her thing, as they’re usually below her standard of who she liked keeping in her circle. She peered at the way his curls were somewhat tussled, like he’d been caught in a windstorm of some sort. (Although it’s been rainy all day, no wind whatsoever.), she thought to herself. His eyes were beautiful, but so tired, it seemed. Wonderful shade of green, she thought, too. She pondered the different shades of green that she could remember, which lead to her thinking of the floating diamond of Sims’ characters. (plumbob, she repeated, overenunciating the first syllable). She went back to the thought at hand, and looked at the hand clutching the cup of hot chocolate, still seeming to be warm to the touch, judging by the steam coming from the mouthpiece of the top.

  His hand was veiny, somewhat red, (maybe because of the heat). His fingers looked very pale though, almost as if they’d recently been subjected to extreme cold, or flashes of it. (the rain, she thought) His chest was partially exposed due to the.....vest that he was wearing (maybe he’s some sort of performer, he does have a cowboy hat) She paid more attention to his face, also tired, and glanced at his lips, but only for a moment, as she didn’t need to get exceedingly horny in a public space over a complete stranger.....again. She softly gasped when he looked back at her, and she softly smiled, getting back to her book.

“Were you just staring at me?” Klaus asked, looking back at her.

“Yes.” she replied, eyes skimming over her paragraph on metacarpals. She had a fleeting thought to wiggle her hand in front of her face in order to properly label everything, but she could do that back at home.

“Why?” he asked, his tone giving off the fact that he wasn’t in fact upset, just curious.

“Eye contact isn’t my favorite thing, neither is small talk, especially if I’m preoccupied, so I sometimes stare at people in order to get a better understanding of them.” she explained, glancing at Klaus.

“Oh, well, don’t mind me then. I won’t bother you.” he said, looking at the table. Topazi put her book facedown on the table, apologizing.

“You’re fine! You didn’t try to talk to me, and you respected me when I didn’t reply with the name of my book, verbally at least. I like that.” she replied, deciding to look Klaus in the eye.

“Oh, thank you. Care to tell me why you’re reading about human cells?” he teased, a smirk coming to his lips. Topazi panicked for a moment, because she thought “fuck....he’s a charmer”

  She did tell him about why she was reading about human cells. And why she kept scratching a portion of the book as she read. He even noticed how she bit her lip when she read, which lead him to think that she was actually reading some sort of cell erotica, only to remember what she had previously told him. They talked for hours, it seemed. For once, Topazi found someone that she could talk to and not get tired. Interests, parents, everything (maybe a bit too much). They eventually had to separate, but not after giving each other their numbers, and Klaus found a small feeling of joy in his chest as he walked out of the coffee shop. He walked back into the Hargreeves (uh.....Sparrow) mansion with a small smile on his face. His face hurt, not from too much sun, or biting his lips too much. From pure excitement and joy, he found. Bubbling out of him, steamrolling its way out into the open. His fists shook in glee, and he squealed, and he didn’t care. For once. He needed something good, and she was it. Beautiful Topazi. Wonderful Topazi. That’s the answer.

  Klaus came back to his senses as he realized that some of the marshmallow fluff had leaked its way onto the counter where he scooped it up with a finger, tempted to put it into his mouth. A few moments of thinking gave him his decision. He imagined Topazi’s look of disgust when she caught him doing that once, and stuck his finger under the tap for a few moments, wiping the water off on his bare thigh. He finished his sandwich, and went back upstairs (once again avoiding Minnie). He snuggled next to his partner in bed, breathing in deeply. Yeah....she’d need a bit of a shower when she woke up, but that’s alright. That’s alright though. She would spend the rest of the day at home, to rest from being on her feet and knees for hours the previous day. And he’d tell her how important and beautiful she is, and think about how he’d almost went to the pizza shop across the street. But he didn’t. And he chose right, so right. With no regrets, for the first time he could think of in a while.

Masterlist

[y0itsbri]

it's pizza night at the gallagher-milkovich household!

word count: 2k

usually they order a couple pizzas from some local joint: thin crust chicago supreme for ian and deep dish meat lovers for mickey, though they steal pieces of each others' all the time (even if mickey has to pick off all the onions from ian's chicago supreme.)

but tonight ian wanted to do something different. the tomatoes and bell peppers from the garden were finally looking ripe. ian, with his green thumb, had spent most of spring and summer nurturing a row of plants in the community garden of their apartment complex. mickey had thought it was boring as fuck at first when nothing seemed to be changing, but eventually seeing the plants shoot up and seeing ian excited about all the new growth gave him a paternal kick somewhere from deep inside him. he even found himself wondering how the plants were holding up after a particularly bad thunderstorm one night. for fuck's sake -- was he a plant dad now? when the fuck did this happen?

and if they were going to make their own pizzas with ian's fresh vegetables, they sure as hell weren't going to cut any corners with the store-bought dough. though mickey would never admit it, he was getting pretty good at baking, which was something ian was both a little jealous and very proud of. at this point, mickey was basically a pro specifically at making orange cranberry bread (which ian had become immediately hooked on for a few weeks after jill brought over a loaf as a 'sorry-my-boyfriend-pissed-off-mickey' gift) and also at his favorite peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (mickey has such a sweet tooth, and ian has no idea how he hasn't had more cavities.) surely pizza dough couldn't be too much different than the rest of mickey's pretty impressive baking skills.

after work wednesday evening, mickey emerged from the shower with just a towel wrapped around his waist. he peeked out into the living room expecting to see ian zombified on the couch with the usual two boxes of pizza balanced across his legs. however, mickey was thrown off a bit as he spotted ian behind the kitchen counter rummaging through cabinets, occasionally opening the fridge, and proudly wearing his "i like to get high (quality ingredients)" apron, which had been a very appropriate birthday gift from lip.

"what's with all the ruckus in here, big bang," mickey teased. ian's wild eyes calmed a beat after they had finally noticed mickey standing in the doorframe. he checked out his husband up and down once over as a mischievous smile blossomed on his face.

"it's a surprise, but i'm gonna need you to put some clothes on," ian announced, even though his darkening eyes were saying quite the opposite.

mickey was rather hungry and curious about the shitstorm of a mess in the kitchen, so he decided not to push his luck with ian's lustful gaze and instead obediently turned around to pull on some sweatpants while mumbling something about "can't be too good of a surprise if i have to put on clothes." ian smirked from behind him.

mickey swaggered back to the kitchen wearing one of ian's old rotc t-shirts, hoping it would get enough of a rise out of ian for him to enthusiastically take it off late in the night. as if ian needed a reason.

"alright, alright, tough guy. what's the big surprise?"

ian slid his arm around mickey's waist and pulled them flush together as they stared at the array of ingredients sprawled out.

"Pizza," he stated as if it were a simple fact.

mickey's brow furrowed. there clearly wasn't any pizza on the counter. "where's the fuckin' pizza? or did you get too high," he teased, poking at ian's apron.

"ha. ha. very funny, babe. just high quality ingredients, remember?" ian winked and mickey smirked, musing at his dork. when mickey didn't counter him again ian cleared his throat and continued, "no, but for real. ya know how i've been growing vegetables in the garden here?"

mickey nodded. as if he could forget.

"well, for pizza night i was thinking that we could make our own with some of the vegetables and i was hoping," he dragged out the word and squeezed mickey's waist, "that you would make the dough, seeing that you're the star baker of the house."

mickey rolled his eyes. he didn't know where ian got the impression that he was the next best thing to a professional baker when he would usually just take the easy way out. especially when he was hungry and it came to pizza night. but he was secretly very excited to try the food that ian had spent so much time cultivating.

"yeah, man, let's get it." mickey leaned over the counter to turn the bluetooth speaker on and connect his phone, 'wait by the river' by lord huron playing. he grinned as he allowed ian to slide his hand down his arm and lace their fingers as they swayed together for a moment before pulling away and promptly getting to work on food prep.

ian hummed while he washed and chopped the vegetables, occasionally making comments about how he can't believe how colorful they are or how they had grown from nothing. mickey entertained his comments while he made the dough, "well not quite nothing. there was the seed and the sunlight and the shitty ass soil and you watered it a bunch and stuff. all that love ain't nothing." ian warmly smiled at how casually his husband talked about all forms of love now.

once everything was cleaned and diced and the dough was divided into two equal slabs, they got to shaping their crusts. mickey, being the little shit that he is, had extra flour on his hands and wiped some across ian's cheek. he took off behind the counter and into the living room before ian was able to even get out an agitated "what the fuck, mick!" ian was soon on his heels though and tackled him into the couch, wrestling and straddling him and pinning mickey's arms above his head with one hand and smearing flour from his own hand across mickey's cheek as he struggled.

"payback's a bitch," ian teased through his fits of laughter as mickey's face was twisted up in utter disgust, "oh c'mon, mick, can't take it?"

"you know exactly what i can take, asshole," mickey wiggled his eyebrow as he grumbled lowly. ian's face dropped in complete shock as he was taken off guard, and his grip loosened. mickey used that moment of weakness to flip ian off of him and straighten up his shirt as he stood, no mind to the floured handprints placed haphazardly all over himself, and definitely not entirely from his own hands.

"great, so pizza, then?" he smiled over his shoulder at a disheveled ian as he went to go shape the dough, innovatively using a can of beans as a rolling pin.

ian joined him behind the counter and smacked his ball of dough. "hmm"ed and paused. mickey turned to investigate the curious glint in ian's eye when he heard and felt a similar smack on his own ass.

"oh my fucking god, ian. we're never going to get anything done. i'm fucking starving," he groaned.

"as if you didn't start it!"

mickey paused for a moment. sure, fine, yeah. ian had a point with this one, "whatever." he poked ian in the side and then turned back to his pizza. after they were rolled out enough, ian picked up the spoon to put sauce on.

"nah, man! what the fuck are you doing?" mickey snapped, more with urgency than actual agitation, "we gotta cook them for a little bit first before putting all the shit on there, ya know?"

ian put his hands up in innocence and slowly backed away from both the pizzas and the oven, "my bad, chef, carry on."

mickey flipped him off before slipping the two crusts into the oven for a couple minutes. while they waited, ian picked up mickey's phone and pulled up a youtube compilation video of gordon ramsay 'critiquing' his chefs.

"hey mick, this is you in the kitchen."

they watched for a couple minutes as ian laughed his ass off.

"oh fuck off, you'd burn the place down without me," mickey retorted, carefully pulling the crusts out of the oven. ian just rolled his eyes and resumed playing the music from a spotify playlist that mickey totally did not have named 'date night🥀.'

they took turns spooning sauce with chunks of fresh tomato onto their half baked crusts and then sprinkled on some grated cheese and pepperoni, which they had picked up at the farmer's market on their last trip with a couple of the women in their complex they had accidentally befriended.

as much as mickey ate like a broke college kid when he was left to fend for himself most days, he really didn't mind vegetables (except for fucking onions -- those could rot in hell.) despite this, ian still looked on astonished as mickey piled on the veggies just as much as his pepperoni. that was really saying something.

mickey glanced up, "what, popeye? like you're the only one that gets to enjoy the shit from the garden? i gotta taste for myself all the hype that went into this!"

a look of pure adoration flashed across ian's face as he laid a smooch on mickey's forehead. mickey's felt fucking butterflies in his stomach. he thought that being married to the guy would make those feelings simmer down, but as if it was even possible, the flames burned even stronger.

as they waited for their pizzas to cook in the oven for the final time, they giggled like lovestruck teenagers as they wiped the flour off of each others' faces, making an even bigger mess than they started with, as mickey's hair was now dripping wet. they then cleaned off the countertops and packed the extra ingredients in some blue-lidded tupperware set that debbie had recommended.

ian got two beers out of the fridge, "special occasion," he reasoned. mickey scoffed. as if they needed a reason to get fucking smashed.

soon the pizzas were done, and only slightly burnt at the edges, "adds flavor," mickey reasoned. as if anything mickey actually put effort into cooking would be less than perfect.

ian sliced the warm pizzas as mickey grabbed a couple plates, pausing in his steps to not-so-subtly stare at his husband's biceps flex with the force of the pizza slicer.

they didn't even bother to put on a tv show in the background as they ate. mickey's phone was still playing some chill, lowkey romantic music, and they were just excited to dig in. at this point mickey was fucking starving. mickey quite literally moaned as he took his first bite. ian snapped his head to stare daggers at mickey, watching his throat intently.

"shiiiit. that good, huh?" ian murmured.

all mickey could manage to do was nod as he swallowed.

"might have to do this more often," ian suggested as he took a bite of his own slice. shit. this was good.

"good job growing this shit, man," mickey praised through a mouthful. he swallowed, then added on teasingly, but actually oh-so-serious, "might wanna try growing some mary jane next year if you keep it up with your green ass thumb."

"sure, mick." ian took a sip of his beer. ian would agree to anything mickey would ask of him right now, tipsy on both his beer and his fondness of his husband. as if he could read his mind, mickey reached his hand out to rest on ian's thigh, squeezing once before resting it there for the remainder of dinner.

they finished off the beers and pizzas in bliss, leaving the dishes near the sink to be tomorrow's problem. they didn't even make it out of the kitchen before ian started to tug on the hems of mickey's shirt.

[dadsbongos]

Mommy Issues

Movie/Game/Show: Umbrella Academy Dynamic: Five Hargreeves/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: you’re a mom of two, maybe might be sad? Summary: Five has to pay a visit to the old lady. ~~~

“Come on,” she held out the can of beans, shaking it around slightly when the boy refused, “You have to eat, Five.”

He shook his head, continuing to mark up the book in his hands, “Too busy.”

“You’re never too busy to fucking eat,” (Y/n) huffed, grabbing the book from his hands and replacing it with the can of beans, “It’ll all be here when you’re done.”

Five pursed his lips but decided to not argue with the woman, “You’re lucky you’re the only person left in this hellhole.”

“How so?” (Y/n) crossed her arms, desperately attempting to hide her starvation, “I get to take care of a little boy?”

“I’m not a little boy, first of all. I’m thirteen, technically a teenager.”

The woman snickered, “What’s your second point?”

Humming through his chewing, Five quirked a brow, gesturing for her to continue.

“You said ‘first of all’,” she shrugged, reaching for the bottle of wine settled amongst the rubble of an old library, “Did you have a second point to bring up?”

When the boy didn’t respond, (Y/n) quietly laughed before looking at the book Five was so focused on since he found it. Extra Ordinary by Vanya Hargreeves, her brows furrowed as she picked it up and began flipping through it. Five nearly choked on his beans, “Careful with that.”

“I will be,” she calmly replied, tone softening at the shared surname between the two, “Was she your mom?”

Five shook his head, taking the book back, “Sister.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” (Y/n) forced on a smile, reaching into her tattered pants’ pocket, “If it’s any consolation, I lost some people too.”

Just as he went to retort, a picture of two children was forced into his hand. A boy his age and a much younger girl, and suddenly he regretted every time he mockingly called her mom. Her sad smile was still painted on her lips as realization sunk its claws into Five, “Your kids?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, sitting up straight, “I took all the pictures in the house before packing up.”

“Since we’re learning about each other,” he held out Vanya’s book, “I think you should read this.”

(Y/n) nodded, opening up to the first page, “If you want, for whatever weird reason is in your genius brain, you can keep the picture. I have a lot.”

“Thanks,” he pressed the photo into his blazer pocket, “you can’t keep the book. I want that back when you’re done and don’t write in it.”

“Naturally.”

Silence broke over the pair until (Y/n) spoke again, much quieter than before.

“What?”

“Stop zoning out, creeper,” she ruffled his hair.

“Don’t baby me, (Y/n),” the thirteen-year-old boy snapped, still clutching his mannequin companion to his scrawny body.

In response, the woman rolled her eyes, “I’ll baby you all I want, Five, because in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a wasteland and I’m the only adult alive.”

“So far,” the boy glared, “There could be some lonely Australian man across the ocean and we have no clue.”

She shook her head, “Well until we find him, I’m still going to baby you - because that’s what you are to me. A little baby in need of mothering.”

Five grumbled under his breath, “You’re more annoying than anything else at this point.”

(Y/n) didn’t verbally reply, only pulling up the scarf acting as the boy’s mask before continuing down the road. She turned when Five didn’t follow, nudging her head down the way, “Come on, I think there's a wagon we could find to carry supplies!”

A wagon there was, but only one. At least at that point. The grown woman huffed while looking around, “Put Dolores in, you’re rolling the thing with you.”

“What?” Five looked up at her, “But you’re the adult, aren’t you?”

“Which means I get to tell you to roll it around.”

The wagon would go to him then. The boy.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Five’s brows furrowed as he walked, lugging the dirtied thing behind him, “What are you talking about now, (Y/n)?”

She simply stared at him, a blank, empty stare, “What are you thinking about?”

Her eyes made him nervous now, they were devoid of any kindness and warmth they usually held when looking at him. Less like a loving mother-figure and more like the mannequin he held close at night. But even Dolores smiled every so often.

“Five!” she suddenly shouted, no longer walking. She rushed over, grabbing his shoulders, “Five!”

There were no hands on his shoulders, just the old, wrinkled one between his own hands. He blinked a few times, shaking his head before looking down to the elderly woman on the floor, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“As spacey as ever,” (Y/n) chuckled dryly, coughing a few times between the laughter, “I asked what you were thinking about.”

“Oh, nothing much,” he lied easily enough, “Just how much I’ll enjoy you not bossing me around.”

The dying woman shook her head, using what little strength she had to smack his arm, “You’ve been a rude little boy since we met.”

“Well,” he shrugged, letting a soft silence fill the heated air, rubbing his thumb over the weathered bones in this old woman’s hand, “What about you? What are you thinking about?”

“My kids,” she smiled faintly, “I’m excited to see them again.”

Little Joan and Lacy, he’d heard about them countless times. Joan was about his age when the pair first met after the Apocalypse, dark hair and light eyes with freckles spread across his cheeks. Lacy was on the younger scale with little curls sprouting from her head and brown eyes like honey pots with a birthmark right on her forehead. Adorable kids, from what few pictures survived the fall of humanity.

“I wish I could’ve met them,” he grinned down at the faint woman.

(Y/n) nodded weakly, eyes fluttering shut every now and again, “You three would’ve been so cute together. Them trying to make you smile and you just being grumpy; like something out of a sitcom.”

Five’s eyebrows rose at the sentence, “Now I’m not so sure.”

“Stop,” she wheezed, patting at her chest, “You would’ve loved them…” it was quiet for a few more moments, “I’m worried about you too, you know? Being all alone after so long, I don’t want you to go completely crazy.”

“I won’t be alone,” he attempted to reassure, nodding towards their plastic friend, “I have Dolores, don’t I?”

“God, don’t get me started on that…”

“I really will be fine,” he gripped her hand a little tighter, “Don’t be worrying about me, I can handle myself, old lady.”

“One day you’ll be an old man, and then who’ll be laughing? Me, from the afterlife.”

Five wouldn’t admit it, but the thought of (Y/n) still being somewhat around comforted him, “I’ll be counting on it.”

“Better be.”

. . .

Five rubbed at his temples, stopping the Apocalypse built up a headache worse than surviving it. He pushed the doors to Griddy’s open, not having had one of their coffees since his first night into the present. He slid onto a stool at the counter, giving Agnes a nod when she waved at him.

Agnes went into the back and after a few murmurs, he assumed a new waitress would be serving him.

Looking to the right, two familiar faces came into view. His eyes widened, hands fumbling for the photo in his blazer pocket. After (Y/n) died he made a habit of keeping it around; felt wrong to go without it. He looked between the picture to the children.

The doors from the back opened up and a painfully familiar woman stepped through. She smiled at two kids, ruffling the boy’s dark hair and pinching at the girl’s cheek before going over to Five. 

(Y/n) shot him a grin, pulling a pad of paper from her uniform, “What can I get you today?”

Five didn’t answer immediately, stare fixated on the living, breathing, not-dead woman in front of him. Unlike in their years together, her skin was less dirt-covered, hands less crusted in ash and soil, hair more well-kept. She seemed healthy, happy. After realizing he was staring for far too long, he cleared his throat, pocketing the photo, “Sorry, I’ll have a coffee. Black.” 

“No donuts?” she teased, “I know they’re not top-of-the-line, but I never miss an opportunity to snag a few for my kids,” she pointed her pen in the kids’ direction.

“Well, I suppose I could get…” he looked over the menu before continuing, “a lemon jelly donut.”

(Y/n) wrote down the order, “Funny, that’s my son’s favorite.”

“What a coincidence,” of course, he knew that. He knew it fifty times over.

Nodding, she tore off the paper before walking towards the back, stopping at the two kids. The tiny glances from both child in his direction made it obvious he had been mentioned. Giving Joan and Lacy each a kiss on the forehead, (Y/n) made her way to the back kitchen.

Lacy looked between her older brother and the strange boy before getting down from her stool and skipping over to the brunette. She gave him a broad, pearly smile, “Hi.”

Five smiled slightly, turning in his seat to look at the girl properly, “Hello.”

Joan followed after his sister, smiling apologetically to the boy about his age while taking the girl’s hand, “I’m sorry about her.”

“No, she’s fine,” he waved off the other boy’s sympathies, “She's pretty adorable.”

(Y/n) returned from the back, carefully setting down the steaming coffee followed by Five’s donut, “Hope my kids aren’t bothering you. They like making friends with the customers.”

He shook his head, “Not a problem.”

Joan slid onto the stool beside Five, holding his baby sister in his lap, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Five nodded slowly, wrapping both hands around his warm cup, already feeling his headache begin to dissipate, “I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”

[crashingmeteorz]

rich kid runaways (ft. yuexzukoxtoph friendship)

for my 100 Followers Celebration - credit to @aroacebitchboi for this amazing idea!

zuko faces his father in the agni kai, and when he is told what he must do in order to be welcome in his homeland again, he just says “fuck this” and runs away.

he’s not sure where he’s gonna go, just that he has to get out, and fast, because his dad’s gonna kill him. like. for real. so he stows away on a fire navy ship headed Literally Anywhere Else (and maybe the soldiers don’t care! because he’s 13 and hurting children is a disgrace! maybe they sneak him food and blankets idk!)

yue, meanwhile, in the north pole, has just been told she is going to enter an arranged marriage for the good of her people when she turns 16. respectfully, she asks her father what exactly this marriage will do, politically speaking. the north isn’t at war with itself, in fact they’re more united than ever. maybe if it were a southern water tribe boy, sure, but no, it’s going to be a northern boy.

her father just tells her it’s imperative to the stability of the tribe that they uphold tradition. yue, realizing this is bullshit, even at the tender age of 13, says “fuck this”, and runs away.

she is all but screwed without waterbending or any practical survival knowledge - except, she’s been chosen by the moon spirit. when she steals a boat and heads south, the moon takes pity on its ward and keeps her safe, at least on her waterbound journey. once she lands on the northern shores of the earth kingdom, yue depends on the kindness of strangers to survive.

zuko, meanwhile, is angry and mistrustful and afraid when he ends up on the western shores of the earth kingdom, and he depends entirely on his determination to survive. he learns to live off the land the hard way, and avoids major cities and towns for fear of being found out as a firebender. of course, if he’s ever spotted, he’s regarded with pity and empathy because of the festering burn on his face, but zuko doesn’t realize that.

yue never stays in one place too long, bouncing from family to family and learning more skills in a few months than she was ever taught in her whole life up north. she cooks and cleans and sews, yes, but she also farms and skins hunted animals and does house repairs. she is happily taken into homes because of her ability to heal - though never a waterbender, yue still learned basic healing with the other northern women, and can manage even bad wounds all on her own.

afraid she’ll be recognized by her vibrant hair, however, yue continues her journey south, considering running to the south pole for sanctuary. she wonders how their women are treated. zuko, meanwhile, lives alone in the wilderness most of the time, and moves very slowly up the west coast.

they’re 14 when their paths cross. three fire nation soldiers harass yue while she’s journeying along a rural road, asking her for a made-up toll. usually trading in work, yue has no money to speak of. the soldiers threaten violence, and, though he is afraid of being caught by his countrymen, zuko was never one to let bullies have power over the innocent.

he emerges from the forest, swords in hand, attacking the soldiers. at first it seems like he has the upper hand - and then he stumbles, and the soldiers laugh and pull him up to beat him. zuko panics and relies on instinct - firebending at the soldiers and burning them badly. they run away yelling, and zuko panics, certain that he’ll be caught out. he goes to run, but yue stops him.

“you’re hurt,” she says, pointing to where he’d been cut by the soldiers’ swords. “please, let me help you. it’s the least i can do.”

“you’re not scared of me?” zuko asks in confusion, looking around wildly, afraid his father will pop out of the trees and strike him down.

“you saved me,” yue says, just as confused, because between the rescue and the obvious burn mark, she doesn’t really think this boy would have any reason to hurt her. also he’s kinda shrimpy, and yue, who has built up some strength through hard work, is pretty sure she could take him. “come on, i have some herbs. is there clean water nearby?”

shocked that anyone in the earth kingdom wouldn’t call for zuko’s arrest on the spot, zuko leads yue to a stream in the forest. yue silently patches his wounds, and then eventually asks if she can get a look at his eye. apart from the initial work of the fire nation healers, zuko hadn’t really done much to treat his eye, and it’s so badly crusted he can barely see out of it. when yue reaches for him, he jerks away.

“i don’t need your help!” he snaps, standing and shaking himself off. “if it weren’t for you, i wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.”

“excuse me.” says yue, standing as well, because who is he to talk to her that way? “i didn’t ask you for help, you chose to do that. and you’re mad at those soldiers, not me, so why don’t you try being a little nicer?”

they stare at each other furiously for a moment. then yue sighs and says “i think i can help you with your eye, so that you can see. let me do that and i’ll leave you alone.”

it’s painful, and a very slow process, but with water warmed by zuko’s bending (”just heat up the water.” “someone could see!” “we’re in the middle of a literal forest! who’s spying! the frogs???”) and a few medicinal herbs, yue manages to clear away most of the crust and dead skin over zuko’s eye. when he finally opens it again, he’s shocked to find that he can see.

“well, i won’t bother you anymore,” yue says huffily, moving to leave the forest. as she does, she realizes she doesn’t know where the heck she is. zuko’s still marveling at how different the world looks with two eyes.

“umm, which way is out?” yue asks him. zuko snaps back to reality and says “oh, um. i’ll show you.” because he is, admittedly, grateful.

of course, when they try to leave the forest, they run into bandits and barely escape. then yue reccomends they take a country road, and zuko reluctantly agrees, except they run into more bandits. after the fourth round of bandits in two weeks, they’re convinced they’ve been cursed with bad luck.

“can we just go to a town or a city?” yue asks, panting from their desperate escape. “we’re not having much luck living in the wild.”

“i was fine until you showed up!” zuko retorts, panting as well. “fine! then i’ll leave!” yue yells back.

“wait,” zuko says, and yue turns, tapping her foot impatiently. “i’m sorry,” zuko says, to yue’s shock, because if her few weeks with this kid who calls himself lee has taught her anything, it’s that he does not apologize. “i don’t really...understand, um, local people and-“

“let me do the talking,” yue says, gentle as always, reaching for zuko’s arm. he smiles at her, a real, happy smile, and they make their way to the nearest earth kingdom town.

after that, yue and zuko are inseparable. they argue a lot, naturally, but they become good friends, too. yue says she always wanted a sibling, zuko says he always wanted a different sibling, so it’s nice, to have each other. without going into too much detail, they bond over their shared experiences of pre-determined destinies and overbearing parental figures (“my father said i have to get married for the good of the people! what does that even mean?” “tell me about it, my father got mad that i talked out of turn, so he tried to kill me.” “...he what?” “hahaha just kidding that’s not a normal thing that happens.”) no matter how scary it gets, they agree, the earth kingdom makes them feel freer than they ever have before.

does the food they cook suck because they’ve never had to cook in their lives? yes. do they sometimes put all four feet in their mouths because of how they speak to the poor people of the earth kingdom? yes. have they ticked off a lot of fellow teenagers for acting bratty? yes. (“what, so, you don’t have palaces around here?” yue asks. “yeah, where are the royal gardens?” zuko asks. “leave before we rock your shit.” says Every Teenager They Meet.) but at the end of the day, they’re happy.

at 15 they reach a city called gaoling. by now they can both do enough odd jobs that they always have some pocket money on them, although yue still struggles to behave in a way that isn’t dainty and delicate, and zuko still struggles with basic social skills.

they’re getting ready to move along, when they’re stopped by a girl. she’s young, about 11, and entirely blind. she’s being chased by a loud crowd, who seem to be just around the corner.

“please!” the girl says. “help hide me! they’re after me! i think they’re going to kidnap me!” yue and zuko, who are the captains of the child-protection-squad, immediately move to protect the girl.

“this way!” zuko says, and the three of them run down narrow streets and alleyways, in and around shops, until they’re stopped at the city gate by the mob going after the girl.

“alright, kid,” the leader, a tall, buff man with long greasy hair says. “you’ve stolen from us for the last time.”

“how many time do i have to tell you?” the girl bellows, much different than her sweet and innocent pleas from before. “i won fair and square! you’re just mad because you got your butt kicked by a little girl!”

before zuko and yue can even react, the girl pummels the mob of men with an avalanche of rocks, and then launches the earth they’re standing on into the air, landing them far outside of the city limits in a dizzying display.

“woo! that was awesome!” the girl says gleefully pumping her arms. zuko and yue are both trying to wrap their heads around what just happened. “thanks for the help. not that i needed it, i just didn’t want my parents’ guards to see me bending...i wasn’t really planning on running away, but, i mean, i doubt they’ll even notice i’m gone-”

“just a second,” yue says, collecting herself. zuko’s jaw is still hanging open. “who are you?”

the girl grins smugly. “name’s toph. who are you?”

i cannot fully express how much i love this idea. top-notch. god-tier. thank you again!