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emospritelet · 3 years

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Heatstroke - chapter 23/24

I was planning on this being the final chapter, but it got away from me, so it's the penultimate chapter instead :)

Last time, Gold and Lacey banged :D

Word count: 3,721

[AO3]

Gold made her dinner, fillet steak with a sauce made from beef stock, red wine and rosemary, alongside soft, creamy mashed potatoes and carrots glazed with butter. They drank wine with it, rich and red, and afterwards carried the dessert upstairs to bed, where they took turns spooning dark chocolate mousse and raspberries into their mouths until their lips were sticky and sweet. Gold watched as Lacey sucked the last of the chocolate mousse from her spoon and dropped it into the glass dish with a contented sigh.

“That,” she said. “Was pretty bloody amazing. You can definitely cook.”

“Thank you.”

He set the dish on the nightstand, handing her a glass of wine, and Lacey wriggled, sitting up against the pillows as she took it. Darcy had curled up at the end of the bed with his tail over his nose, and Lacey gestured at him with a foot.

“You do realise now he’s been up here, he’s probably gonna spend as much time sleeping in your bed as he does mine,” she said, and Gold grinned.

“I don’t mind that too much,” he said. “Maybe he’ll keep the mice away.”

“No sign of that so far,” she remarked. “Not that I’ve seen any mice. Only rats.”

“You’ve seen rats around here?” he asked, surprised, and she shrugged.

“I saw one the day I moved in,” she said. “Standing on his hind legs, bold as brass. Not the best welcome gift, to be honest.”

“I don’t suppose it was.”

“Yeah, Darcy came to get me to chase it off,” she said casually. “So if you’re hoping he’ll deal with any vermin that turn up, you’re out of luck. Turns out he’s a coward.”

Gold laughed.

“Well, he’s a very handsome coward,” he said. “If we get a rodent problem I can always deal with it another way. I can’t say I’ve seen any rats here, though.”

“I guess it might have wandered in from the forest,” she acknowledged. “I was worried there might be a nest of the little buggers, but I haven’t seen any since then. It was definitely male, though. All big balls and unimpressive cock.”

Gold blinked as a feeling of déjà vu washed over him.

“Really?” he asked neutrally.

“Yeah.” She wriggled onto her side, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Have you ever seen a rat’s balls? They��re huge!”

“I can’t say I’ve looked all that closely,” he said, and licked his lips. “Uh - you said his - other equipment - was somewhat lacking.”

“Yeah. Minuscule.” She held up her little finger. “Still, I guess they manage okay, right?”

“Right,” he said, and hesitated. “And this was the day you moved in?”

“As I was carrying my stuff in.”

“Uh-huh.” He sucked his teeth, nodding slowly. “You - didn’t happen to mention this to Miss Lucas in the bar that night, did you?”

“Huh.” Lacey pursed her lips, a vague expression on her face. “Yeah, I did. Why?”

Gold sighed heavily.

“Because I might have thought you were talking about me.”

Lacey stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly open, then burst out laughing. It bubbled out of her, washing over him as her eyes sparkled with mirth, and he felt a little of his awkwardness melt away.

“You thought I was telling Ruby about what you were packing?” she giggled, and he shrugged.

“Let’s just say I overheard your conversation and made some assumptions.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for eavesdropping,” she said, and pushed up on her elbow. “Wish you hadn’t?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Good.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “Because your assumptions were shit.”

“That happens more often than you might think,” he said, and she giggled again.

“Oh, but I’m definitely telling Ruby about your junk now,” she said, and winked at him. “She did ask for a blow by blow description if you and I ever got up to anything.”

“In that case.” Gold put down his wine. “I’d better give you lots to talk about.”

Lacey stretched, eyes closed, mouth widening in a grin as she felt the press of hot flesh against her own. She was nestled in soft sheets, Gold’s arm around her waist and his cool breath on the back of her neck, making her shudder in pleasure. Morning light was shining through a tiny gap in the curtains, sending a shaft of golden dawn across the bed and making the pink walls glow. The bed smelled of musk and sex and the faintest hint of his cologne, and she wriggled, turning in his arms to kiss his chest. At the touch of her lips he inhaled sharply, body stiffening as he woke, and she heard a contented rumble from deep in his chest as his arms went around her.

“Morning,” she said, and sucked at his nipple.

Gold jerked, snickering, and tugged her close against him so that she had to kiss back up his chest to get some air. He pushed her onto her back, one hand sliding down over her hip to squeeze her rear as his mouth found her ear.

“Morning,” he murmured, and Lacey moaned as he sucked at her throat. His hand strayed to her hip again, sliding along the crease at the top of her thigh, and she caught his fingers in hers before he could reach between her legs.

“Really interested in where your mind’s going,” she said. “But I need the bathroom. And coffee, to be honest.”

Gold pulled back immediately, rolling onto his side, and she slipped from the bed, drawing on his discarded shirt. He was watching her with a sleepy-eyed grin, his hair dishevelled and a day’s growth of stubble on his cheeks. It made her want to crawl straight back in bed with him.

“I guess I’ll make the coffee, then,” he said. “You want some breakfast?”

Lacey sighed.

“Does that mean getting up?”

“Doesn’t have to.”

“Well, alright then.”

She winked at him, making his grin widen, and trotted off to the bathroom.

When she returned he had already gone downstairs, and she poked around on his dresser for a hairbrush, dragging it through her curls and teasing out the knots that had formed over several hours of the best sex she’d ever had. Gold had stamina. He was also extremely generous, and wanted to please her, which was a first in her experience. She could see herself falling deeply in love with the guy if she wasn’t too careful, and was surprised to find that the idea didn’t bother her. Glancing in the mirror she shook out her hair and set down the hairbrush, sending her reflection a satisfied grin. Apparently Ruby was right. I do want more than hot crazy sex. Although the hot crazy sex is amazing.

She padded downstairs, following the sound of him clattering around in the kitchen. The scent of coffee was drifting towards her, and she took a seat at the kitchen table, watching Gold in his silk robe as he made scrambled eggs and spooned it onto hot buttered toast.

“Hot sex, great coffee and a delicious breakfast,” she remarked, as he set a plate in front of her. “How is it you’ve been single for so long?”

Gold chuckled, sliding into the chair opposite.

“My son would say it’s because I’m completely dense and have no idea when someone is interested,” he said.

“Well, he’s not wrong about that,” said Lacey, making him grin. “Although I guess I shouldn’t really tease you about it. Pot, kettle, and all that.”

He grinned at her, eyes gleaming, and she felt herself fall in love with him a little more. She turned to her breakfast to stop herself blushing with the thrill of it. The eggs were soft and buttery, seasoned to perfection, and she made a noise of approval and cut a piece of toast, pushing it into the growing pool of melted butter and popping it into her mouth. Gold was watching her over the rim of his coffee cup, and she took a sip of her own and set down her cup.

“Any chance we can finish that interview today?” she asked. “I had other questions to ask and you kind of distracted me with orgasms.”

He smirked.

“I have to open the shop at some point,” he said. “Can it wait until later?”

Lacey pursed her lips, trying to hide her smile.

“You want me to come over tonight, is that what you’re saying?”

“You’re the one that wants to interview me,” he said, one eyebrow flicking. “Maybe I’d be more inclined to open up if we were more - intimate.”

His voice had dropped to a low purr, and Lacey squeezed her thighs together.

“Okay, but no distracting me this time!” she ordered, gesturing with a fork. “I have to get some stuff on tape I can actually use! I don’t want Sidney weaselling out of this pay rise he promised.”

Gold pressed a hand to his heart with a wounded expression, and she wrinkled her nose at him. He turned back to his breakfast, a tiny grin on his face.

“I suppose he’ll have you covering the mayoral election,” he said, and Lacey nodded, chewing and swallowing.

“There’s gonna be a debate next week.”

“Really?” Gold pulled a face. “So maybe that’s why I’m starting to hear whispers against Regina.”

“Whispers?” Lacey sat up. “What are they saying?”

Gold took a drink of coffee, setting the cup back down and sucking at his teeth a little.

“The rumour,” he said, “is that money has gone missing from the accounts. Not a huge amount, perhaps a few thousand dollars, but enough to trigger an investigation. The whispering I’ve heard is that it’s the Mayor herself getting greedy. Trying to maintain a lifestyle she can’t afford on the back of hard-working townsfolk.”

“That can’t be true,” she said in disbelief. “It’s election year. There’s no way the Mayor would risk her position, right?”

“Regina and I have certainly had our differences,” he agreed, “but I don’t believe for one second that she’s been stealing town funds.”

“Me neither,” said Lacey. “I think it’s Zelena stirring shit.”

Gold gave her a slanted grin, cutting a piece of toast.

“And where’s your proof of that?”

“Don’t have it yet,” she admitted. “But a friend of mine gave me some info on her New York dealings that makes all this sound kind of familiar. Given what you told me last night, I think we can guess that there’s a personal element as far as Zelena’s concerned.”

“So what’s your plan?” he asked.

“I guess we could tell Regina what she’s up to,” said Lacey. “Give her a chance to stop Zelena.”

“It’ll just look like dirty politics if it’s Regina against her rival,” he said, and she nodded in agreement.

“Okay, how about this?” she said. “We tell Zelena what we know. Maybe it’ll make her stop scheming and leave town.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we go to the town,” said Lacey. “Let them all know what she’s up to.”

“Difficult to do that without evidence,” he said, and she shrugged.

“Maybe we’ll get a confession.”

“You think she’s going to reveal her diabolical plan to you in some sort of tell-all interview?” he asked, with a grin, and she sent him a flat look, reaching for her coffee.

“Not in a million years,” she said. “She can’t stand me.”

She took a sip of her coffee, setting down her cup.

“But she might tell you,” she added.

Gold drummed his fingers slowly on the counter top, eyes fixed on the shop door. The clock on the wall opposite showed that it was nine-thirty, and he was expecting a visitor. Right on time, the door opened, the bell above jingling as Zelena stepped into the shop, a predatory smile on her face. She strode towards him with purpose, and Gold eyed her with a flat stare as she leaned on the counter, pushing her face towards him as though hoping for a kiss of greeting.

“Mr Gold,” she said, in a breathy voice. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when you said you wanted to discuss my election campaign.”

“Well, before you get too excited,” he said. “I want to talk to you about these rumours against the Mayor.”

“Rumours?” She tried to look puzzled, but it was unconvincing.

“The ridiculous talk of her embezzling town funds.”

Zelena gasped, hand to heart.

“She’s been stealing from the town?” she said, in a hushed voice. “Well. About time someone else took over, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t play games with me,” said Gold, in a bored tone. “You know she didn’t do it.”

“That’ll be for the investigation to determine,” she said smoothly.

“Which you’re hoping will overshadow the campaign and leave you the victor.”

“If the people of this town decide they want me rather than her, who am I to deny them?”

Gold sighed heavily, pushing back from the counter and walking around it. Zelena turned to face him, and he grounded the cane between his feet.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said. “I’m a little unclear as to why.”

“I’m running for Mayor,” she said, showing her teeth in a somewhat manic smile. “As I said, it’s all about wanting to help the town. Family values, that sort of thing.”

“Really?” said Gold. “That’s interesting. Especially as the current Mayor is your half-sister. Perhaps those family values only stretch so far, hmm?”

Zelena’s mouth fell open, eyes wide with shock, and he bit back a smirk.

“Interesting how differently your lives turned out, isn’t it?” he went on. “You raised in England by your adoptive parents, Regina over here with your birth mother. I suppose that must sting, being abandoned. As I understand it, she left you at the kids’ home in Boston with a note saying she had to give herself her best life and she couldn’t do that with a baby.”

Zelena’s eyes widened further, her jaw tightening.

“How the hell do you know that?” she demanded. “Who told you?”

“I have my sources,” he said. “Which I obviously won’t reveal.”

“That slut of a reporter’s been poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong and then selling to the highest bidder, I suppose,” she said bitterly, and he felt his fist clench around the handle of his cane.

“If you mean Miss French,” he said evenly. “Then no. My information predates her arrival in Storybrooke.”

Zelena drew herself up, brushing her hands against her skirts as though ridding herself of something unpleasant.

“Well,” she said. “My tragic history is none of anyone’s business.”

“It’s my business when you try to use it to take over my town.”

“Your town?” she said, letting out a humourless laugh. “Did you become Mayor when I wasn’t looking?”

Gold smiled coldly.

“Regina may have the title of Mayor,” he said. “But I’m the one with the power around here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Disruption, disputes – family drama – it hurts the bottom line.”

Zelena took a step closer, licking her lips. It was repellent, but he made himself meet her eyes.

“Well, if you could see your way to supporting my campaign,” she said throatily. “I’m sure we could - work something out. Help each other, so to speak. Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner.”

She reached out to touch his chest, and Gold stepped back smoothly, resisting the urge to swat her hand away.

“I try not to get involved in politics.”

Zelena looked as though she’d bitten a lemon.

“And yet,” she said. “Here you are. Getting in my way.”

“I know where I am with Regina,” he said. “She may be a little hard-headed at times, but she has fairly good judgement, and a genuine concern for her citizens. You have neither.”

“Perhaps I’m just untested.”

“Perhaps you’re unstable.”

She clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly rude?”

“Usually I get ‘heartless’,” said Gold. “I like to think I’m merely a good judge of character.”

“And you judge the Mayor’s character to be better than mine?”

“I imagine most of this town does,” he said calmly, and Zelena sniffed.

“In case you haven’t noticed, most of the residents of this town are incredibly stupid,” she said. “Small-minded. Stuck in the past and terrified of change. It didn’t take much effort on my part to find bad feelings towards the Mayor.”

“Which you’ve no doubt been exploiting.”

“Well, that’s politics,” she said airily. “Can I help it if the townsfolk have had a difficult year and I remind them that while they struggle to pay their bills, Regina Mills and that wife of hers are lounging around doing heaven knows what on the taxpayer dime?”

“What is it you think they’re doing?” asked Gold, puzzled. “Mallory is a lawyer. Regina is the Mayor. They both earn a respectable living and I’m fairly sure neither one of them is lounging around.”

“Respectable?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not the concern I’ve heard from some of the townsfolk. There’s talk of some seedy club that’s been approved by the Mayor to open next month. Queens of Darkness, or something?”

“Yes,” said Gold patiently. “It’s a gay bar. So?”

“From what I hear there is deep concern amongst the townsfolk about the image of Storybrooke,” she said. “I’m told it could attract all kinds of perverts to the town. Think of the poor children.”

Gold stared at her, then burst out laughing.

“Are you expecting to challenge Regina on some sort of morality grounds?” he asked. “Good luck with that. No one but a tiny, bigoted minority cares that she’s a lesbian. If you think you can win with their votes alone, you’re wasting your time.”

“I think the family values crowd is more numerous than you might believe,” she said. “Something tells me I’m on the right track. Outrage is so easily manipulated and weaponized, don’t you agree?”

Gold stared at her for a moment.

“So you don’t care about being Mayor at all,” he said. “You just want to take it away from Regina.”

Zelena smirked

“Can you imagine the look on her face?” she asked. “Because I have a little scene in my head that I’m hoping will play out on election day. I’m announced as the winner in a landslide victory, the simpletons that voted for me erupt with cheers, and she runs out of the town hall crying.”

“Clearly you don’t know her very well,” remarked Gold. “Why do this? You don’t want this position, you clearly don’t give a flying fuck about any of the townsfolk, why go to so much trouble to take it from Regina?”

Zelena rounded on him, nostrils flaring.

“Because she deserves it!” she hissed. “Because she had everything that was supposed to be mine! Because she was given the world on a silver platter and even that’s not enough for her!”

Gold shook his head.

“You’re saying that like any of this is Regina’s fault,” he said. “She can’t help it if your mother abandoned you. If you have to take your anger out on someone, surely your mother is the place to start?”

“Well, I can’t very well talk to her about it, she’s dead!”

“Then let it go,” said Gold patiently. “Stop blaming your sister for the two of you having a terrible parent.”

“This life should have been mine!” said Zelena, eyes flashing. “She doesn’t deserve any of this!”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said dryly. “You won’t beat her, you know. The town has supported Regina for years because she does a good job. They won’t simply choose you because you bat your eyelashes at them.”

“Well, maybe they’d prefer a Mayor who isn’t corrupt,” she said. “I think you’ll be surprised at what the townsfolk might want, when the truth is presented to them.”

Perhaps so, he thought. Aloud he said: “You know as well as I do that there’s no truth to the corruption rumours.”

Zelena smiled brightly.

“Do I?”

“Yes,” he said evenly. “So unless you’ve planted a bunch of phoney evidence, this vendetta of yours is doomed.”

Zelena had pursed her lips at his words, and he wanted to shake her.

“You’re telling me you have planted evidence?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Gold sighed heavily.

“I don’t even know why I’m trying to help you,” he said, almost to himself. “Why don’t you just leave town? Go and live your life and stop worrying about what you think you’re entitled to.”

“I will destroy her happiness!” spat Zelena. “If it’s the last thing I do!”

She whirled away, red curls tossing, and stomped towards the door.

“If you try to bring her down,” he called, making her pause. “I’ll stop you.”

Zelena swivelled slowly on her toes to face him, a smirk twisting her lips.

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” he said. “I’ve taken time out of my busy day to try to make you see sense, but I can just as easily talk to the entire town.”

She laughed at that, eyes gleaming with mirth.

“The reclusive Mr Gold, whom the entire town distrusts, is going to convince them that their beloved charity queen is really a fraudster with an axe to grind?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

She looked him up and down briefly, pursing her lips, and took a step forward.

“Go ahead and try, then,” she said. “You’ve no proof.”

Gold held her gaze for a moment, then nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t.”

Zelena nodded in satisfaction.

“In that case, I think we’re done, don’t you?” she said. “Unless you want to take me up on that offer of dinner, of course.”

“I think not,” he said coldly, and she sniffed.

“Your loss,” she said, and flounced off, the bell above the door jingling on her way out.

Gold stared after her, shaking his head, and heard the click of heels on the floor behind him.

“Well.” Lacey’s voice made him turn. “That was interesting.”

She was leaning in the doorway, the curtain to the back room draping the curve of her hip, and he smiled.

“Did you get it?” he asked, and she held up her camera.

“Every word.”

#fic: heatstroke #golden lace fic #my fic #golden lace #rumbelle fic #rumbelle

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littlelovelyspiderling · 4 years

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Weaknesses

I watched Avatar: The Last Airbender and my hand slipped oops, I promise I have more spidey stuff coming soon!

Zuko is captured while pursuing the avatar gang. They want to know what he knows about the Fire Lord, but they don’t want to hurt him to get him to talk. A hungry Momo enlightens them on how to do just that.

word count: 6,236

_________________________________

This was not the outcome Zuko had been anticipating. Bond to a chair made of earth, arms pinned behind his back, legs cemented in place, hands and feet encased in rock no amount of wrenching or fire bending could loosen. Caught and subdued by the avatar and his gang when he was certain he’d had the drop on them. Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph stood around him, arms crossed and eyes steely. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t move.

After his uncle had fallen asleep, Zuko had spotted the avatar’s bison flying overhead, and snuck away in the night to track them. When he found their campsite, he moved in to try to capture Aang, being as silent and stealthy as possible. But, much to his surprise, hardly a step and a half into his scheme, an earth bending girl rose from one of the tents and captured him instead, trapping him in his current position. Now, instead of the avatar being in his custody, the banished prince of the Fire Nation was in the avatar’s custody. And he was not happy about it.

“Let me go!” Zuko hissed, pulling at his restraints even though he knew it was pointless. Sokka scoffed.

“We’ll pass, thanks.” He and the others stood a few paces back from Zuko so that he couldn’t reach them with any breath-related fire moves—a threat they had deduced rather quickly.

“Good work, Toph,” Katara said, patting the smaller girl on the back. “That could’ve been really bad.”

Toph shrugged and grinned at Zuko. “You should really learn how to pick up your feet there, princess. You’ve got the gait of a pregnant sloth bear.”

Zuko fumed with frustration, hating the fact he’d been caught so easily. Now he was at the mercy of his enemies instead of the other way around. Meaning they were free to taunt him to his face with zero repercussions. For now, he thought bitterly.

Aang looked at his friends. “Now what do we do? We can’t just leave him here.”

“But we can’t just let him go, either,” Sokka added. “He’s too dangerous.”

“We could knock him out and leave him in a bush,” Katara proposed.

“Or hog-tie him to a porcupig and send it running into the woods,” Toph offered, pounding her fist into her palm.

Aang shook his head. “Come on, guys. We’re not doing any of those things.”

“Wait a minute,” Sokka said, brightening. “He’s the son of the Fire Lord, right? I bet he has insight into his weaknesses, and how Aang can defeat him!”

Zuko clenched his teeth. Aang grimaced.

“What are you suggesting, Sokka?”

“I’m saying, we should interrogate him! Find out what he knows!” Sokka snagged his boomerang from his bag and approached Zuko from behind. Zuko winced in surprise when the edge of Sokka’s weapon dug into his throat, pinning his head to the back of the chair. “Tell us everything you know about the Fire Lord, Fire Nation scum!”

His tone wasn’t intimidating in the slightest, but the feeling of the blade pressed against his neck was enough to send chills down Zuko’s spine. Fortunately, Aang stepped forward, jabbing his staff against the ground.

“Sokka, stop! This isn’t how we do things!”

Sokka griped and grumbled, but eventually stepped away, withdrawing the weapon from Zuko’s throat. “Fine,” he said, pouting. “But think of all the juicy secrets he must know about the Fire Nation—secrets that could help us win the war and put an end to their tyranny! We may never get a chance like this again!”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Zuko growled.

Katara motioned for everyone to step out of Zuko’s earshot. The group huddled together beside Appa’s slumbering form.

“Aang, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think Sokka might be right.”

Aang and Sokka gaped at her simultaneously. “Seriously?” they said in unison.

“We have to get him to tell us what he knows about the Fire Lord. Knowledge like that could help us save countless lives!”

“We didn’t even know he was in the same area as us three minutes ago!” Aang exclaimed. “Since when is wringing information out of our enemies a top priority?”

“It’s an opportunity we’ve never been presented with until now,” Toph said. “We should take advantage of it while we can.”

Aang scowled between his friends, shocked by their sweeping consensus on the matter. He peered around Sokka’s shoulder, eyeing Zuko as he struggled pitifully against Toph’s restraints, then bowed his head.

“No. We’re not torturing someone for information. It’s not right.”

“No one ever said torture,” Sokka said cooly. “Think of it more as...highly effective persuasion.”

“Maybe we could do something really annoying,” Katara suggested. “Like blow your bison whistle in his ear, or have Sokka sing a bunch of Southern Water Tribe nursery rhymes.”

Toph shuddered. “But that would be torture for all of us. Not just him.”

“Hey! I thought everyone loved it when I sang those!” Sokka sulked. “At least, that’s what Gran-Gran always said...”

Aang swallowed and stared at his feet. “I don’t know. I don’t like this at all. Even if he’s our enemy, it feels wrong—hurting someone who can’t fight back so they’ll tell us something they don’t want to.”

Katara could see the weight of the morality at stake clouding over Aang’s eyes. She laid her hand on his shoulder. “Maybe there’s a way we can do it without hurting him. We could negotiate, or try trading something, or—”

“Hey! G-get off!”

Alarmed, the gang spun back toward Zuko. In the midst of their discussion, Momo had pounced on the fettered prince and was eagerly sniffing his midsection.

“Momo!” Aang cried. “Get away from him! He’s dangerous!”

“Get your stupid pet off me!” Zuko snapped. He moved as much as he could to try to shoo the lemur away, but it continued to snuffle around his torso, its nose prodding his stomach. The feeling took him by surprise, making his breath hitch and his muscles seize. He fought not to react, fought to keep his expression cold and his demeanor colder, but the insufferable little creature would not let up. It was after something underneath his shirt.

Uncle’s lychee nuts! he realized. Iroh had a habit of stuffing his nephew’s pockets with the things in case the teen ever found himself lost, alone, and without another source of food. Although Zuko would never admit it, he appreciated the gesture—his uncle’s intuition had saved him from starvation in more pinches than one.

But now was not one of those times.

Zuko’s face began to burn as the corners of his lips twitched, threatening to turn upward if the lemur didn’t stop. He had to get it off!

“Agh! S-scram, flea-bag, before I fry you to a—AH!”

To his horror, Momo pulled back his collar and darted down the neck-hole of his shirt. Paws scurried across his torso, a wet nose poked and nuzzled his belly, and a long, fuzzy body wriggled between his skin and the fabric of his clothes. Zuko yelped and sputtered, the heat in his face turning to fire, the laughter he’d been battling back suddenly barreling up his throat like a volcanic eruption. To his dismay, high-pitched giggles started slipping from his lips faster than he could stop them.

“Wha—ahack! Hehey! Get out! Gehet out!” He tugged harder than ever on his bonds, twisting and shifting to try to scare the varmint away, but all it did was make Momo weasel faster and wilder inside his shirt. The lemur’s long tail brushed under Zuko’s arms and wiggled against his neck and ears, sending goosebumps shooting across his skin. He squirmed and thrashed, shaking his head from side to side.

“Gehet it off me!” he squealed.

The four friends blinked as they watched the bizarre scene unfold.

“Uh…” Sokka said, glancing between the prisoner and his team. “Should we do something?”

A few moments later, Momo crawled out of Zuko’s collar and perched on his shoulder, purring as he nibbled on a handful of nuts. The flustered prince puffed out his cheeks with a shudder, breathless and wide-eyed, his face tinted pink. He could feel his enemies staring at him, digesting what they had just witnessed, and he started to sweat.

“I—I’m gonna k-kill this thing if you don’t get it away from me,” he stammered, trying to feign some semblance of composure. But Momo’s tail continued to swish against the side of his neck as he spoke, making the task exceedingly difficult. He pursed his lips while straining to evade the feathery touch.

The gang looked at Zuko, then each other, then back at Zuko. The realization dawned on all of them at once.

“Were you laughing just now?” Toph asked.

Zuko cringed, averting his gaze. “W-what? What are you talking about?”

“Oh man! You were!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh before,” Katara said with a snort. “I didn’t think it was possible. And even if it was, I expected it to sound more…I don’t know. Evil?”

“Right? It’s so cute and squeaky!” Sokka snickered.

“I was not laughing!” Zuko shouted. Then Momo’s tail brushed his ear, making him wince and crack a smile.

Aang’s face lit up with delight. “It’s Momo! He’s tickling him and making him laugh!”

In unison, the gang turned on him with wide grins. Zuko bristled.

“What?”

“No way! Prince Zu-Zu is ticklish?” Toph cupped her hands over her heart and tilted her head to the side. “Awww. That’s adorable!”

“Quit patronizing me!” he roared. He tried to knock Momo off his shoulder with his head, but only managed to lightly nudge him. Momo responded by nuzzling into Zuko’s neck, purring loudly as he tucked under his chin and whisked his tail along his collarbone. The prince squawked, hiking his shoulders to his ears.

“Ehaha! No! G-get away!”

Toph crossed her arms smugly. “That’s what you get for trying to capture our friend.”

“Zuko: ticklish,” Aang giggled, as if his brain was having trouble comprehending the idea. “It just seems so out of character for him, you know? It’s funny.”

Katara chuckled in agreement. “I think Momo likes him.”

“No—Momo likes food,” Sokka corrected her. A sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Which gives me an idea.”

He marched across the opening to stand at Zuko’s side. The banished prince didn’t notice him; he was too busy biting his lip in attempt to stay quiet, but couldn’t wipe the silly smile and embarrassing blush off his face. Sokka placed his hands on his hips.

“Zuko, tell us how to sneak into your father’s evil lair, or else!”

The request hardly made sense—his father lived in a giant palace, not some secret underground wolf bat cave. Even if he wanted to offer some kind of answer, he doubted he could speak more than a sentence or two before bubbles of laughter swallowed up his words. Still, he had to try to look unfazed.

“Or ehelse what?” he shot back. His voice came out shrill and brittle, causing his blush to deepen. The stupid lemur would not give his neck a break!

Sokka cocked a threatening eyebrow. Then he extended his arm.

“Momo, look! I think you missed some!”

He opened his hand, revealing another pile of lychee nuts. Before Momo could snatch them out of his palm, Sokka dumped them down the neck-hole of Zuko’s shirt, making him leap.

“Ah! What’re you—w-wait!”

Instantly, the lemur dove back into his shirt, writhing and scampering all over his tummy. Try as he might to fight it, the sensation tickled too much to bear.

“Nohoho!” he giggled, twisting and bucking in protest. Whatever dwindling scraps were left of his facade fell away within seconds. In his hunt for the lychee nuts, the fuzzy little beast pawed and nibbled at Zuko’s bare skin while his ears and tail tickled him like feathers, leaving the poor prince in stitches. His cheeks flushed a shade pinker as he realized how ridiculous and pathetic he must’ve looked at that moment—and in front of his enemies, no less. Zuko’s current disposition was a far cry from his usual grumpy, scowling self, and there was nothing he could do to shake it. The smile spread across his face at that moment was so uncharacteristically bright, the gang couldn’t help but mirror it.

“That’s what, fire boy!” Sokka replied fiendishly. “Get him, Momo! Do your worst!”

“Ahaha!” Zuko cackled. “I’ll—tohorch you!”

Aang laughed along with him, turning to Katara. “I guess this way isn’t so bad.”

Katara smiled fondly. “This is probably the happiest I’ve ever seen him. But I guess that depends on how you define ‘happy.’”

After circling his torso a couple more times in his lychee nut scavenger hunt, Momo must’ve gotten sick of being inside the twitchy teenager’s shirt. With a shriek and a warble, he shot out of Zuko’s sleeve and landed on Aang’s head, gorging himself on his findings.

“Good lemur,” Aang said, giving his ear a scratch. Momo trilled contentedly.

“Don’t let up now! We almost had him!” Sokka dashed toward Aang and tugged on Momo’s tail. “Come on! Do your duty! Your fuzziness is the key to bringing the Fire Nation to its knees!”

Momo hissed at him and took to the skies, winding through the air before disappearing into the woods.

“I think Momo’s had enough,” Katara declared with a grin. The group turned back to Zuko, who was panting and smiling and flushed to his core.

“How about you?” Sokka asked wryly. “Had enough yet?”

Even though he was still blushing, Zuko’s eyes flashed with rage. “Let me go!” he demanded again. “You can’t make me talk!”

“Alright, Appa! Your turn!” Sokka pulled on the flying bison’s foot, grunting with effort. “Go! Get him! Lick him into submission!”

“You know we can do this without animals, right?” Toph said, smirking. She strode toward Zuko, her steps pointedly slow and leisurely. The group exchanged a look.

“Careful, Toph,” Katara called after her. “He can still shoot fire from his mouth.”

“Oh, I bet he can,” Toph said. She stopped a few paces back from him with her hands on her hips, grinning smugly. Zuko glared daggers through the girl even though she couldn’t see him. In the blink of an eye, the earth bender disappeared under the ground then emerged behind him, making the prince start, her icy voice sending a shiver down his spine.

“But I bet it’s hard to control your breathing enough to do so when you’re laughing.”

Zuko’s throat tightened. He hated to admit it, but she was probably right. He could barely perform the move when he was fully concentrated and not strapped to a rock chair.

He almost wished they were hurting him to get him to talk. That would be a far more honorable defeat than succumbing to the childish threat they were making against him now. If he was broken by a bunch of kids sicing lemurs on him, he doubted he would ever live it down. But Toph seemed to have a different plan in mind.

“G-get away from me!” Zuko shouted. He didn’t know what else to do. He hated not being able to see where she was. “Whatever you’re insinuating isn’t going to work! You don’t scare me!”

Toph clicked her tongue. “Insinuating? I thought I was being obvious!” She pounded her heel against the ground, and a stool made of earth rose underneath her, giving her a place to sit right behind the restrained prince. She plopped down with a smile. “I’m going to tickle you.”

Zuko stiffened. She was talking loudly, so the whole group could hear.

“Does that not scare you? Are our assumptions wrong? Are you not ticklish?”

Zuko looked down at his torso. Toph’s hands were hovering a couple inches away from his exposed sides, her fingers spidering threateningly through the air.

“And in case you weren’t aware, I can tell when you’re lying.”

The heat in Zuko’s neck bled into his ears. “IhI’m—” he stammered, nervous laughter already creeping into his voice. He squeezed his eyes shut. “No! I’m not!”

The other three approached, the devious delight in their eyes goading his anxiety further.

“You sure about that, Zu-Zu?” Katara asked. “For someone who’s not ticklish, you were laughing an awful lot before.”

“And blushing like crazy!” Aang added cheerfully.

The teasing was enough to blow his top. Zuko strained against his bonds.

“Y-you’re all insane!” he yelled. “As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll roast every last one of you like a chicken cow on a spi—AGH!”

Mid-sentence, Toph’s fingers started crawling up his sides, dancing delicately along the skin beneath his ribcage. Zuko gasped, his words cut short, an explosion of giggles already amassing behind his lips.

“No, go ahead, Mister ‘I’m Not Ticklish.’ Finish it. You’ll roast us how? Like a chicken cow on a what?”

Zuko couldn’t even try to act poised. He’d always been exceptionally sensitive—a fact that irritated him to no end, one his mother used to take advantage of to cheer him up when he was little. Growing up, she was the only person in his immediate family who had ever been physically affectionate with him. His father barely even looked at him; the most attention he’d ever paid his son was when he’d scorched his face in front of the entire royal court. And Azula would never do anything to intentionally make her brother smile.

After his disgraceful banishment, Iroh had been cautious about showing his headstrong nephew too much affection. He didn’t want to smother him or scare him away. Now, three years into their search for the avatar, he’d thrown almost all that caution to the wind. It didn’t take him long to discover his nephew’s sensitivity, the way he sputtered and flinched when his torso was touched in certain places.

Iroh was kind enough not to exploit his findings in front of Zuko’s crew; the boy already had a hard enough time commanding their respect as it was, being a moody, exiled sixteen-year-old. But that didn’t stop him from tweaking his ribs or tasering him from behind whenever they were alone. The smiles and laughter these actions elicited were always worth it, despite the loud, long-winded protests that inevitably followed.

It embarrassed him how easy and often his uncle poked fun at his weakness. But he never imagined anyone using it against him as a weapon; a torture method to get him to talk.

Yet here he sat, bound and helpless, giggling hysterically as Toph’s fingers scoured the lengths of his sides, already desperate for the tickling to stop.

“Hahaha! Quihit it!”

“But you said you weren’t ticklish,” Toph reminded him, scuttling her hands up and down the prince’s twitchy torso. “If you aren’t ticklish, then this shouldn’t bother you one bit.”

Katara, Aang, and Sokka watched in amusement as the once strong and fearsome Zuko dissolved into a squirmy, laughing mess beneath Toph’s wiggly fingers. The color of his face was beginning to resemble the dark red of his shirt.

“Yohou’re—y-you—” Zuko sputtered, grasping for something scathing to say. Toph didn’t give him a chance to find one. Her hands suddenly curled into claws, and she switched from the soft, gentle tickling to kneading mercilessly into both sides of his tummy, driving her fingers deep into his flesh with all the endurance and ferocity indicative of earth benders. Zuko jolted and shrieked, arching his spine to try to get away, his laughter jumping in both octave and volume.

“AHAHAGH! Wahait—no—s-stohop! I cahan’t—eheeheehaha!”

“Come on, guys!” Toph called, waving them forward. “He won’t bite.”

Grinning, the three friends walked to stand directly in front of Zuko, who was floundering as much as his restraints would allow and smiling as wide as the sun.

“Not so mean and scary when he’s laughing his butt off, is he?” Katara chuckled. Zuko’s laughter was shrill and happy—two characteristics that completely contradicted his usual demeanor. It was also outrageously contagious; she had to cover her mouth to try to contain her own flood of giggles.

“I never knew the guy who’s been hunting me all this time could look so cute!” Aang concurred. Watching the Fire Nation prince crumble so spectacularly from such a kiddy tactic was strangely endearing.

Sokka poked Zuko’s bouncy chest with his boomerang. “Now talk! Answer my question, or Toph will tickle you to death!”

To be honest, Zuko barely remembered what the original question was. Something about fire? And an evil lair? An evil fire lair? His head was too preoccupied with the hands pinching and squeezing his belly to think straight. He couldn’t recall another instance where he’d been tickled this intensely. Being unable to guard himself made the sensation a thousand times worse.

“Goho jump in a lahahake!” he laughed, cursing the cracks and squeaks in his voice. Toph cooed.

“Aw! Fire Lord Zu-Zu’s trying to be tough!” She drilled into the soft spot underneath his ribs, making the poor prince thrash and squeal. No matter how much he squirmed or what way he angled his body, Toph’s hands stayed glued to his frame, exploring every ticklish inch of his defenseless midsection, targeting the spots that yielded the most frenzied reactions. She noticed the higher her tickle attack climbed up his torso, the shriller his laughter became, coupled with increasingly wilder attempts to escape. Moving maliciously slow, she began scaling Zuko’s ribcage with her hands, her fingers ascending each bone like a rung on a ladder, needling on top and around and in between.

“Ahahaha! Cut it ahahout!” Zuko cackled. She was terrifyingly good at this.

“How long you think you can stand it, tough guy? Five minutes? An hour? I could do this all night!” Her fingers were drawing closer and closer to his underarms, teasing and tickling every rib in between. His shirt did almost nothing to dull the increasingly unbearable sensation.

Sokka yawned. “As fun as this is, I’d rather not stay up all night, waiting for him to break.”

Toph shrugged, smiling deviously. “I don’t mind. I’m having fun.” She cracked her knuckles and resumed her conquest, her hands inching higher, higher, higher. “Coochie-coochie-coo! Your laugh is so cute I could barf!”

“Stahahahap it!” Zuko giggled. His whole body sizzled with embarrassment; his face hurt from smiling so big for so long.

“Maybe we could help speed up the process,” Katara said, smirking. “If all of us worked together, I’m sure we could get him talking in no time.”

Zuko was already splitting at the seams from just one person tickling him. If all four of them ganged up on him at once, he would most certainly die on the spot.

“Ooh, good idea,” Sokka said, wiggling his fingers eagerly.

“Plus, it’d be a fun, benign way for each of us to get him back for all the times he’s personally slighted us.” Katara turned to Aang with a grin. “What do you think?”

At that moment, Toph’s hands reached his armpits. She dug in relentlessly, poking and scratching and prodding, her touch sending shocks through Zuko’s entire skeleton. He jerked and sputtered for a couple of seconds, reeling from how intensely it tickled, before exploding into a whole new caliber of laughter.

“AHANOHOHAHA!” he cried. “GAHA—STAHAHAP—IHI CAHAN’T—AAHAHAHAAAA!”

“Uh oh,” Toph said mockingly, kneading diabolical circles into his underarms. “Did I find your weak point? Prince Zu-Zu’s little tickle spot? You’re in for it now, your highness.”

Sharp, squeaky hiccups began punctuating Zuko’s laughing fit. Aang watched the giggly teen squirm and shriek and smiled sympathetically.

“Let’s give him a break first. He looks like he’s about to burst.”

Sokka huffed, letting his arms fall to his sides. “You suck all the fun out of interrogating war prisoners,” he muttered. He pointed his boomerang at Toph. “Don’t let up completely, though. If he’s able to focus on his breathing, he might spew another fireball in my face. And I do not enjoy having fireballs spewed in my face.”

“You got it,” Toph said exuberantly. She moved her hands back down to his belly and started tickling his sides with just her index fingers, changing location and technique every few seconds: wiggling one into his hip while the other poked at his ribs, then swirling one across his tummy while the other fluttered against his midriff, then tasering both into the full length of his torso, lingering in the areas that made him most jumpy, and on and on.

It was much more tolerable than the previous torture, but still enough to keep him twitchy and giggly. He could never predict where her fingers would tickle him next, trapping him in a constant state of jittery nervousness. As soon as he got close to forcing the smile from his lips, another perfectly calculated poke would slap it right across his face again, paired with a yelp of surprise.

As he fidgeted restlessly in place, breathless giggles bubbling in his throat, the three kids in front of him stepped closer, looking smug.

“You ready to tell us how to defeat the Fire Lord?” Sokka asked.

Zuko wheezed. He had to stall long enough to think of a way out of this. Or at least to catch his breath—as much as he could in his current position.

“Whahat...does that even...mehean?” he panted.

“Don’t play dumb!” Sokka snapped. “Your father has a weakness—in his army, his hideout, somewhere. You know what it is. Tell us.”

Toph laughed. “We should try tickling him, too,” she said, giving Zuko’s side a squeeze. “Maybe being super ticklish runs in the family.”

Zuko jolted. “Quihit it! Why would I knohow anything like that?”

“Because you’re his son!” Sokka poked him repeatedly in the ribs. “Evil, Fire Nation, devil spawn!”

“He doesn’t look evil to me,” Katara cooed. “How could someone evil have such a cute laugh?”

Zuko wasn’t sure which was worse: the constant teasing making him blush tomato-red, or the two stiff fingers endlessly probing his ticklish torso. He hung his head to hide his dumb, smiley face. “Sh-shuhut up!”

“Aww, what’s wrong?” Toph asked. “You don’t like being called cute?”

“Who doesn’t like being called cute?” Aang said, boasting a goofy grin.

“Stop wasting our time!” Sokka exclaimed. “If you don’t start talking, you’re going to regret it.”

Just then, amidst her tickling spree, Toph’s hands found the hem of Zuko’s shirt. A smirk touched her lips as she reached underneath the fabric and started scuttling her fingers against his bare sides. The moment her nails made contact with his skin, Zuko yelped.

“Waha! Hehey!”

“You heard the man,” Toph said smugly. “Answer the question.”

She dragged her fingertips up and down his sides, letting her nails skate across his skin. Goosebumps flared along his arms and neck, spreading like wildfire. It was a gentler kind of tickling, but just as maddening in its own right. She started climbing toward his underarms again, this time with no clothing to dull the sensation. He didn’t think he’d survive if she reached her final destination.

“Ahahastahahap!” Zuko giggled. “I dohon’t know, okay? Yohour guess is as good as mihihine!”

“Liar,” Sokka hissed, looking over the prince’s shoulder. “Toph?”

The earth bender laid her palm against the back of the chair and snorted. “It’s kinda hard to tell whether or not he’s lying like this. His heart’s been hammering the entire time.” She clawed at his ribcage with her other hand, making him squirm helplessly. “But from what I can detect, it seems like he’s telling the truth.”

“No way,” Sokka spat. “He has to know something.”

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Aang ventured to say.

Toph’s hand slowed to a stop on either side of his ribcage. All ten of her fingers rested against his skin without moving. Even though she wasn’t currently tickling him, the imminent threat of her nails pressed into his defenseless torso kept him on edge.

“I dohon’t,” Zuko whimpered. He dropped his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, smiling listlessly. “The only weakness he has is one you already knohow about.”

The gang looked at each other blankly. “Which is…?” Sokka began.

Zuko scoffed, nodding towards Aang. “Him, of course. The avatar. Why do you think my family has been searching for him for the past three generations? Why do you think my father has had me hunting him down since I was thirteen?”

The three kids in front of him exchanged frowns. Toph’s hands slipped out of his shirt.

“He was definitely telling the truth that time.”

Sokka palmed his forehead. “Aw, man! So we got nothing from all this? No new information?” He stuck his finger in the prince’s chest. “What’s the point of you being the Fire Lord’s son if you don’t know anything about him that helps us?”

“At least it confirms what we already know,” Katara said, wrapping an arm around Aang’s shoulders. “Aang needs to master all the elements and defeat the Fire Lord to end the war.”

Aang smiled and shrugged. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Fantastic,” Zuko grumbled. “Now would you let me out of this stupid chair? My feet are going numb.”

Katara hinted a grin. “I think I like you better when you’re all giggly and smiley.”

Zuko blushed and stared sideways. “I don’t.”

“If we let him go, how are we going to keep him from attacking or chasing us?” Aang asked.

Sokka tapped his chin, then cracked into a smirk. “Maybe we should give him a taste of what we’ll do to him if he does,” he suggested. “Avatar gang style.”

The four kids turned on Zuko with a mischievous gleam in their eyes. A fresh rush of heat washed over Zuko’s body.

“W-what?” he stammered, his gaze darting between them rapidly. Dread seized his throat as they approached him from four different sides, making him squirm with anticipation. “But—but you heard Toph! I told the truth! You’re not supposed to punish me for that! You’re supposed to let me go!”

“Don’t think of it as a punishment,” Sokka said innocently, rubbing his hands together. “Think of it as...I don’t know...a warning?”

“Plus, only Toph got to tickle you,” Aang added, forming his own rock stool next to Zuko’s right side. “I want a turn!”

Katara joined Toph behind the chair, leaving over the back rest. “And this is probably our last chance to hear your adorable little laugh,” Katara said. “You know, before you go back to being a moody grouch bent on chasing us to the ends of the earth.”

Zuko burned inside and out. There were four of them and one completely restrained him. He didn’t think he could take it. “W-what if I promise to leave you alone tonight? I’ll go back to my campsite and not bother you until morning. That’ll give you a big head start!”

“I thought that was a given,” Toph said, snaking her hands back under his shirt, her fingernails grazing his tummy. Zuko bristled from her delicate touch. It was already too much to bear. What remained of his fiery resolve crumbled away.

“Aha! A week then! I wohon’t mess with you for a weeheek!”

“Aww. He’s trying so hard to negotiate his way out of this.” Katara’s fingers brushed both sides of his neck, making him cringe. “Sorry, Zuko. But this is too much fun!”

“Here, Sokka,” Toph said, retracting the earth up his ankles so that his feet were exposed. “Maybe you should try tickling some feeling back into his feet.”

Sokka grinned and sat on the ground, pulling off the prince’s shoes. “Good idea!”

“Noho!” Zuko yelped. He pulled at his bonds and curled his toes in protest. “Thihis isn’t fair! Guhuys—wait—AHAHAGH!”

Aang started poking around his torso, testing and teasing different spots with his soft but frenetic touch. This cued Toph to jump back to his underarms, her fingers fluttering lightly against the hollows. At the same moment, Sokka began gliding two fingers up and down his arches. All of them were tickling him relatively gently, aware of the fact that if they each gave it their all, Zuko might explode. Regardless, having eight hands prod and stroke the most sensitive areas of his body all at once was absolutely maddening, launching him into a hysterical giggle fit.

“Ahahahaheehee!” He threw his head back, twisting and bucking frantically. “Guhuhuys!”

“This is what we’ll do to you every time you try to capture Aang,” Toph told him, giggling as she tickled the undersides of his upper arms. “Think about that the next time you’re feeling kidnappy.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able take regular ‘ol grumpy-pants Zuko seriously ever again,” Sokka chuckled. “Even when he’s back to shooting fire at us, all I’ll be thinking about is his silly little laugh and goofy smile!”

Hiccups started puncturing his giggles again. So many places on his body were being tickled at once, his brain couldn’t decide which one to focus on. Zuko didn’t care about trying to feign toughness anymore; he just needed this to end.

“Stahahap! No mohohore! Pleeheehease!”

Katara spidered her nails against the back of his neck, making him shrink into himself with a squeak. “He did say please,” she pointed out.

Just then, a twig broke in the woods, followed by a figure emerging from the tree line. The four friends ceased their attack and glanced up fearfully.

Although he was still dizzy from the onslaught of tickling, Zuko lifted his head and spotted the silhouette as well. The person’s shape was oddly familiar. He realized who it was before the telltale voice rang across the clearing.

“Prince Zuko?” Iroh called, stepping out of the shadows and into the pale moonlight. “Is that you?”

“Uncle!” Zuko cried, relief rushing through him. He thrashed in place. “Hehelp me! I’m trapped!”

“What are you kids doing to my nephew?” Iroh asked, stopping in front of the five of them, although his tone wasn’t particularly angry or concerned. It was more intrigued.

“We haven’t hurt him,” Katara insisted. “Toph caught him sneaking into our camp and restrained him. We were going to let him go, but then we thought he might have some information on the Fire Lord. So, uh…”

She felt weird about explaining the rest. Fortunately, Aang jumped in for her.

“So then we tickled him!” Aang said, giving Zuko’s side a couple pinches. The prince flinched and giggled. “We wanted to get him to talk without harming him.”

Iroh smiled at the sound of Zuko's laughter and the happy expression on his face, neither of which had made an appearance in a very long time. They reminded him just how young the banished son of the crown truly was. He shook his head amusedly. “Poor Prince Zuko. It would seem your friends have discovered your weakness.”

“Thehey are nohot my friends!” Zuko cackled. “Just help me, Uncle! Gehet me out of here!”

“He has a very cute laugh, does he not?” Iroh chortled.

“Disgustingly cute,” Toph agreed, poking his armpit. Zuko squirmed and squealed.

“And an even cuter smile,” Iroh observed. “It’s a shame I don’t get to witness both more often.”

“Uhuncle!” Zuko pleaded, spiraling into giggly shambles. Iroh smiled at Toph.

“Would you please consider sparing my nephew and handing him over to me? I promise he will not cause you any more trouble this evening.”

Toph turned toward the others, waiting for any objections. When none came, she offered Iroh a nod.

“All right. Stand back, everyone.”

The rest of the group did as they were told. Once they had moved a safe distance away, she punched her fists toward the ground, and the chair fell apart, along with the rock cuffs on Zuko’s hands and feet. He hit the earth with a grunt, flustered and panting.

Iroh approached him and helped him stand. Zuko hugged his midsection with a moan.

“Uhugh...my sides,” he whined. His skin felt tingly and his belly still bubbled with hundreds of giggly butterflies, making it difficult to keep from smiling. He wanted to snarl at the group, to swear they were going to pay for what they’d done to him, but he was too exhausted and embarrassed by the whole situation to summon the energy. Iroh wrapped an arm under his shoulders to support him.

“Thank you for not harming my nephew,” Iroh said to the four kids. “I owe you all a great debt.”

“Don’t...th-thank them,” Zuko huffed.

“But I must,” Iroh retorted. He tweaked the young prince’s side. “They reminded me how to brighten you up whenever you’re being a downer.”

Zuko flinched away, trying to look angry but betrayed by a giggly grin. “Ahagh! Ehenough already!” He whirled around. “You’re all crazy! I’m leaving!”

Zuko stomped toward the woods, smoke hissing from his fists, blush burning through his face and ears. The group laughed.

“This was fun, Prince Zu-Zu. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Sokka waved. “Visit again soon! Next time, we’ll have Appa join the fun!”

Zuko did not like the sound of that. Although part of him found some tiny flicker of release in laughing authentically for the first time in almost three years, he was perfectly fine with waiting another three years for the next instance to occur. After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

FMA:B/BNHA Crossover (2)

Summary: Ed gets stuck in the BNHA world after the end of brotherhood. He starts trying to find a way home and ends up inadvertently working for the league of villains.

Part 1 here

At one point, the ground level of Ed’s building had probably been a nice-looking shopfront, maybe a flower shop or grocers or something more befitting this weird world…like a tech repair store. Now, the ground level doubles as apartment space, large windows caked with dust and grime, curtains permanently drawn to hide its occupancy. Heck, if Ed hadn’t been around to fix the glass with alchemy the ground floor would have been pretty much unliveable. Like many buildings in the area, it was a victim of a villain/hero confrontation which always seemed to generate an obscene amount of property damage. Great for leveraging his repair skills in exchange for free accommodation and about nothing else. Not that the people here saw it as much of a problem.

Ed scowls, flipping his OPEN sign to CLOSED, yanking the door shut, locking up as he goes.

Ed doesn’t quite understand the whole thing, and he had had one of the worst track records for property damage when it came to state alchemists. The difference being that he had always returned to reverse as much of the alchemical damage as he could and if he couldn’t Mustang had some other military alchemist/personal waiting in the wings to see to the problem. Rebuilding here was the responsibility of some external agency or other. Ed is a little hazy on how the system was supposed to work, seeing as the military had little to no involvement with anything hero related. Though, considering how the Amestrian military had been in the process of feeding the souls of its citizens to a loosely defined truth God, maybe that was a good thing. Honestly, researching how this place ran its bureaucracy was low on his priority list.

“Hey! Ed! You’re out early? Off somewhere interesting?”

“Did you see the guy who just came through here,” he asks, eyeing his fellow apartment-liver who seemed to have nothing better to do than loiter outside and yell at people on the street. The greasy-haired man is puffing smoke near the corner of the building with his two equally scruffy friends. They all have a physical abnormally, a lizard tail, claws, bulging eyes, that remind him uncomfortably of chimeras despite knowing it was a result of more quirk bullshit.

The guy blows smoke in his direction, “Big, tall dude? Pretty suspicious looking with the hood and all. I saw him go in. Didn’t see him leave …funny that.”

“Yeah…funny…” Ed mutters, “Did you recognise him?”

“I might have.”

Ed huffs, rolling his eyes and continues down the road. He would leave bribing his neighbours for possible information as a last resort.

He passes the vacant lot holding a near identical half-collapsed block, followed by another nicer looking building, then another, before they gave way to shops and smaller structures. That was something he was still getting used to…the sheer scale of the city. Even Central had barely been a quarter of this city’s size. Luckily, his destination isn’t too far so he doesn’t have to worry about getting lost.

The building he arrives at is taller than the rest and full of office space. The main lift is out of order so Ed trudges up three flights of stairs to the top floor, stomping into the empty reception/waiting area only hesitating for a second before slamming his hand onto the bell sitting atop the front desk.

There is a muffled voice, “I’m coming. I’m coming. No need for that racket!”

The door behind the desk swings open.

“Edward?”

“Hey, old man,” he gives a small wave, “It’s been a few weeks.”

The man, tall, well-built, cropped brown hair, stares at Ed.

“Yeah it’s been a few weeks! You need to check your phone and answer your messages every now and then. You’re giving me grey hairs. More grey hairs!”

“Right…my phone….” He forgot he had it when not using it to help with navigation. Also, messaging was a pain. He had picked up the local spoken language fast enough out of necessity, but his reading and writing were still a work in progress. Lucky for him, this reality had a few languages similar enough to Amestrian that if he really wanted to read something he could get a translation. It still made written communication tricky.

“I'll try and check it more often," he placates, "I’m here for some information about a job I was offered and seeing you know a bunch of the local businesses I thought I would drop by.”

“Information?” Masao Uraraka lets out a long breath, “And there I went thinking that you were going to take me up on my apprenticeship offer.”

Ed shoves his hands into his pockets, shrugging. The older man grunts, “Well come on through. You’re lucky you caught me in the office. I’m usually on-site supervising about this time. But, can’t do much of that until those idiots at HC Construction.co get the go-ahead from their insurance company.”

Ed slips past and into a dimly lit office space which is surprisingly well organised. Across the wall is a collage of family photos, depicting a woman and young girl at various stages of growth.

“…that’s not your problem though. How have you been kid? Hope you haven’t been in too many fights.”

“Hey,” he objects, “Some idiots need a good punch,” and then adds a little less aggressively, “But no. No fights. I’ve been researching quirks....”

“Quirks. That’s different? Weren't you studying chemistry or something?”

Ed shrugs again, unwilling to divulge much else. Uraraka tended to be nosey out of some misguided notion that he could help Ed ‘get back on his feet’ after whatever tragic backstory he had cooked up for him.

“You’re still living at Old Man Watanabe’s right? He not pulling anything is he? Old coot always tries to weasel more out of his deals.”

Ed can’t help but agree, “He’s been trying to get me to re-wire the whole building. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

Of course, this just sets Uraraka off on a round of angry muttering, “Is that right? I can have a talk with him. I’ve told him that he needs an electrician and a proper plumber. He owes me a few favours so I can… ”

“It’s fine,” Ed quickly interrupts. Uraraka had his own problems and family to look after. The guy reminded him of Hughes in that he cared way too much. “One grumpy landlord isn’t worth worrying about.”

Uraraka visibly deflates, “Yes, well, most kids your age shouldn’t be worried about that sort of stuff at all. You should be finishing up your schooling, getting your Japanese up to scratch and studying for college entrance exams. You remind me of my daughter. Stubborn.” He pulls a framed photo from his desk, pointing it at Ed, shaking it for emphasis, “She wants to be a Hero you know. A HERO! Can you believe it! My cute little girl, getting into fights with villains.”

Ed clears his throat awkwardly. Yeah, this guy was definitely this world’s weird version of Hughes. If Hughes had worked in construction and had, you know, not died. This isn’t the first time he has had a picture of Ochako, Uraraka’s daughter, shoved in his face.

“About that information?” He cautiously interrupts and gets another sigh.

“Yes, yes. You kids are always so impatient. What’s this job then? What idiot is going around hiring 16-year-olds.”

“Actually, the guy that came in just mentioned some construction work,” Ed rubs his neck, now slightly subconscious, realising he doesn’t have a whole lot to go on, “he didn’t give me a lot of details, just left this.” Ed pulls out the envelope placing it on the desk next to the assortment of framed photographs and scribbly kid drawings.

With a raised brow, Uraraka pulls it towards him, peering in. The man’s eyes widen and he closes the envelope, frowning, “This supposed to be a down payment in advance of a job, or is it for material costs? Because it’s a bit much for a down payment and nowhere near enough for materials. Not if it’s for anything serious. What sort of work is it? You know I can’t lend you equipment without a licence…but I’ll help you source anything that you…”

“No,” Ed rushes to interrupt, “the guy said it was a sign of goodwill. I take it that’s not a normal thing people do in the, ah, construction business?”

“No. It definitely is not,” Uraraka now looks concerned, “there would usually be a contract for services before any sort of payment. Especially, if you’re going to be working as an independent contractor.”

So that just confirmed what he already knew. Ed continues, “So you haven’t heard about people asking around for under the table construction work then?”

“No. I can ask a few of my freelancers if they’ve had similar offers but I deal above the board with licenced workers only, so it’s unlikely they’ll have heard anything.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He glares at the envelope.

“What did he look like? This man that came in?”

“Oh, he was tall, made of dark purple smoke and had a teleportation quirk…I think. He also asked about my quirk and its limits.”

“I’ll keep an ear out.” Uraraka promises and frowns at Ed, “I hope you’re not considering this offer.”

Ed grunts noncommittally and gets a look of disapproval that reminds him so much of Hughes its almost painful. He tries not to feel disappointed at the lack of answers because coming to Uraraka had always been a long shot. ‘You’re sad, lonely and the only conversations you’ve had this last week were yelling matches with your landlord and neighbours. Uraraka is a nice man. Of course, you would come to him for advice.’ A voice that sounds suspiciously like Al chimes in. ‘I don’t want him to worry. I’m not staying here long. What’s he going to think when I suddenly disappear,’ he snaps back and immediately feels foolish.

Maybe the isolation is getting to him a bit.

“If it's money you need that I’m more than happy to help you get licenced and certified…” Uraraka continues to talk oblivious to the fact that Ed is barely paying attention.

He doesn’t want to settle down and get a popper job or finish off his schooling or talk to youth services or whatever other things Uraraka had brought up in the few months they had known each other. That would be admitting defeat. Also, he had no ID or history and he was pretty sure you needed both to work any legitimate jobs.

“I can handle myself,” he says out loud.

“Yes, you’re worryingly self-sufficient but there is a difference between unlicensed quirk use and aiding and abetting criminals. No self-respecting, above board, organisation hires a kid to do construction work and throws a bunch of money at them.”

“I know.”

Yeah, he knows Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious was probably a criminal of this reality. He knows he is probably getting himself into something dicey and illegal but he needs to follow whatever lead he can to get back home. Finding a quirk with either the ability to transport him between realities or one with the power equivalent to a few thousand souls was his last hope of ever hearing Al's, the real Al’s, voice again.

The older man rubs his forehead, visibly exasperated, “But you’re going to ignore me. Stubborn brat.”

#fma brotherhood #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma:b #bnha #mha #fanfiction #CrossOver #edward elric #Uraraka family #dimension travel AU #my hero academia #fanfic

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 4 years

Text

Concept: RED Spy is down, his watch damaged and the knife blasted from his hand by a clever strike from a BLU. His ribs ache from the force of being hurled bodily into the unforgiving soil of Teufort’s rocky ground, and he grits his teeth into a snarl.

He can fight without his knife, he lived this long as a Spy prior to this whole mess of a contract... but it would not be easy. His ankle feels damaged, twisting as he rolled and Spy curses at the misfortune; still, his arms were hale enough to enact a chokehold when the opportunity arose.

The sun disappears as looming shadows block the light, and hearty chuckles linger in the air, the malice behind the sound sending a shudder through the espionage agent. He understood, this was... well, it was personal to a degree, if he had a downed BLU then of course he would think nothing of enacting some quick revenge for a past death/insult.

But it was also their job. He hoped to take at least one down with him, if possible... but it would not be the end of the world to die here and now, later he could hunt them down and delight in the gurgled screams as his butterfly knife pierced their spinal columns.

Blood dribbled slowly from the shallow indentations in his bottom lip wheren a few teeth had pierced accidentally during the heavy impact. Spy’s tongue darted out automatically to catch it, equally thrilled and revolted by the taste of the coppery substance...

He grunts as a heavy Texan boot digs into his side, and two voices laugh uproariously as if the world’s wittiest joke had just been exchanged. They would pay for tha-...

His vision flashes sharply a second later, pain radiating through his face like an explosion as a steel-capped boot makes contact; without even consciously registering it, Spy knows his nose is broken. That was a sensation he had become all too familiar with in the past.

He cries out as something heavy crunches down on his legs, efectively trapping him.

“Aw, don’t be such a wuss Spah, I manage to carry that around when it’s full all’a the time!” the BLU engineer coos, his expression worryingly unhinged, though not unfamiliar... the RED Engineer had made the same face a truly disconcerting number of times in the past.

Indeed, the toolbox weighed more than one would suspect, and if his ankle had not been shattered before, it certainly was now. There was only one solution, if he could but find it... where was his-...?

“Oh laddie, don’t go looking for your pretty little pistol... our spook went and knicked that when ye blacked out for a second, like the delicate little crossaint ye are.” BLU Demo taunted, crouching down over the RED.

Spy did not recall blacking out, but that’s not generally a good sign...

“You are, as ever, outclassed here, mon frier.” came a smug voice so like his own that it irritated to no end, as the BLU Spy faded into visibility.

If this had been the first death of the day, or even the twelfth, then perhaps he would not have stopped trying to find a solution. Beady blue eyes darting subtly around until some ingenious escape plan came to light and he could be freed from this mess...

But it wasn’t, and he was so, so very tired. Between the Pyro, Sniper and a number of rather lucky swipes from the BLU Medic, Spy had been dying all day long. He would love for this to end quickly... but given the location, and the unlikelihood of help arriving in time to curb the enthusiasm of the currently losing team surrounding him... Spy felt that things were not in his favour this day.

Hovering gently across the room, the intel gleamed innocuously, cruelly. A beacon that lured them all to their deaths day in, day out on these damn capture the flag campaigns; a beloved sight for both the teams’ benefactors.

And so they died, day after day, for nothing more than a glowing briefcase with an ever-changing array of useless paper inside. Why, last week there had been a recipe for some fried chicken with eleven herbs and spices... useless, though Engineer had been eager to try it, as had another fried chicken afficiando on the team.

The week before? A number of magazines, a short story about some science fiction show he was certain may have been written by one of the Pyros, and a crudely drawn map to different households that Spy could not make heads or tails of...

A slap snapped him back to reality, sending fresh waves of sizzling pain through his face as the damage to his nose once again took his full focus.

“Looks as if he’s back with us again.” BLU Spy said, radiating smugness from every pore as he flicked out his knife with unnecessary flourishes. “Good evening Monsieur, seeing as you will be staying with us for some time, I would hope you will be an obbliging guest... and not miss out on the festivities. Such as,” he said, pointing the blade directly at a blue pupil, “when I remove your eye from its socket, hmmm?”

“Hey, I called dibs on ‘im first boyo.” BLU Demo exclaims, swatting at the blade-wielding hand, and trying not to look too pleased as it scored a deep groove across Spy’s face. Spy hisses at him through clenched teeth, loathing the man. “He needs those eyes to see what ol’ eyelander and I are gonna do tae him, aye?”

“Just don’t go hogging him, I’ve had to rebuild a dozen sentries today because of him. Not to mention my back’s achin’ somethin’ fierce from all the damn backstabbing the little red weasel’s gotten away with.” BLU Engie interjected, groaning as he stretched, fingers and spine making awful audible pops. The man flexed his gloved hand and the mechanical whirring sent chill straight down the Spy’s spine. “Now see, I’m thinkin’ that fair’s fair only if’n I get to pull yours right on out of that body of yours. Whatcha think about that, you filthy RED?”

It would technically fall under ‘fair’, but not anything Spy particularly wanted to experience. Before he could open his mouth in his own defence, with a smooth ‘Gentlemen, please...’ the mechanical fist slammed in from the side. Bile rose automatically in his throat at the sensation of a tooth dislodging and blood filling his mouth. The BLUs seemed wildly unhinged today, beyond their normal bloodlust... but they had lost all week long, so they may be getting sanctions and penalties from the Administrator.

His head whirled. When was the last time he’d had more than a few hours sleep this week? The last time he drank some actual water or ate something substantial? Maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d not insisted on skipping the team lunch during ceasefire, in order to do some covert surveillance in the enemy intel.

Consciousness flickered.

There were delighted but angry voices jabbering back and forth about ‘waiting their turn’, and ‘going a little easy to start because the french fry had to last’...

And then, there was screaming.

It was almost like a bad horror movie, with the sounds of screaming, crunching and swearing flickering in and out. Little snippets of a full scene that he could not comprehend as his battered head swam...

In the sudden silence, loud and grotesque for the heaviness of it, all that could be heard was a sharp, angry series of breaths.

Spy blinked frantically, trying to ascertain what had happened, trying to cling to the here and now when all his body & mind wished for was to give in to the swirling darkness.

A figure coalesced before him, eyes seeming to glow with a feral light, body and bat completely splattered with blood and gore, expression half in shadow.

“S-Sco-...?” Spy tried to get the word out around damaged molars and a outhful of blood. Everything throbbed, but the silence was a symphony of hope to his ears.

“Don’t worry, they won’t fuckin’ touch you again, Spy. I got ‘em.” growled an unusually serious Scout, his fist shaking around the bat’s handle. He seemed frozen, a figure in a portrait surrounded by the broken corpses of the BLUs, uncertain what to do next.

A wheezey exhalation from Spy seemed to snap the runner out of it, and he knelt to shove against the toolbox pinioning the espionage agent to the ground. It clunked to the ground with a heavy metallic finality, and Spy sighed at the sudden freedom.

“Ya look like shit, Spook, so we gotta get ya out of here before those guys fall outta respawn lookin’ for revenge.”Scout says, mouth running while his eyes dart over the mess that the normally immaculate espionage agent made. He slips an arm under Spy and they slowly work the man into a sititng position.

Ankle’s definitely shattered, Spy notes with a true lack of enthusiasm.

“Scout... just prop me against the wall there and take the intel. Once it is secured, they cannot touch me anyway, as the humiliation round will keep me safe.”

“And just who the fuck do you think you are ordering me about like that?” Scout objects, eyes never once leaving Spy’s face.

“Someone who wants to win as much as I do?” Spy hazards.

Scout leans back on his haunces, crouched by Spy. He tilts his head, “Ya a real bastard, ya know that? I don’t care about the intel, we gotta get you outta here. But if it means that much to ya...”

In a frankly ridiculously fluid movement, Scout is up, across the room and back again before Spy could blink. The intel snapped to his back like a magnet.

Spy is hauled to his feet with minimal protestations, an arm over Scout’s shoulders and the runner’s other one about his waist. The majority of his bodyweight was resting on the runner, and Spy felt rather despondent about their chances of surviving like this.

He said so.

“The others are coming, don’t worry about it.” Scout grinned.

Heavy machinegun fire could be heard above near the BLU spawn, along with delighted maniacal laughter. The REDs were here, and judging by the beeping of a sentry, they were spawncamping like no tomorrow.

“See? We got this. So don’t worry about it.” Scout shrugs as they begin the slow ascent up the corridor and hiopefully towards a dispenser. Spy lurching along and trying to think of other things as each jostling movement created little discomforts.

In a momentary pause, he looks to the runner. “Merci, mon... fils.”

The words felt too big for such a narrow corridor to hold all at once.

Scout laughed, half in delight and half from awkward nervousness. “Yeah, yeah, you better thank me. I saved ya butt in there!”

They continued hobbling towards the rest of RED for a long moment, before Scout said, looking anywhere but at Spy. “Don’t worry about it... Dad... I got ya.”

Spy could not help but smile through a mouth of bloody, broken teeth. Suddenly, the world felt a little brighter...

The End

#tf2 #scout #spy #dadspy #fic list #random idea i had just now

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luna-jaden-shadow · 4 years

Text

no. 1 Let’s Hang Out Sometime

Prompts - | Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging |

Fluff/Angst

Warning - My bias against Endeavor, Mention of severe burn,

Pairing - Tomura Shigaraki X Villain!Reader

[For the sake of this your given quirk is a wolf quirk that allows you to change into a giant wolf and when you’re not you’re sporting fluffy wolf ears and a tail along with slightly longer canines. It also gives you heightened senses.]

-><-

You don’t remember much from before you woke up, chained up and in a transport van. There wasn’t any time to collect yourself as the memories of yesterday come flooding in. There’s not enough time as the doors suddenly open and a armored guard pulls you out of the van and into the bright sunlight and with no hesitation they’re pulling you towards the prison.

Holding your head high, you listen to their yells, their curses of your name, and the cries that damn you to Hell for all that you’ve done. Despite what they say to you, you find yourself smiling at all the people who are watching you. Your hands are chained up in front of you, connected to the chains that keep your ankles close so you can’t run anywhere. Around your neck was a collar that nullified your quirk and prevented you from shifting in any way and lowered your senses. Even the prisoners that you were passing were yelling at you as you’re dragged into the prison that you were now going to call home.

A low whistle came from you as you’re forced into the building, whistling the monkey chased the weasel. The guards to say the least were terrified of you and the fact that you hadn’t stopped smiling since you were captured and beaten by the pro-hero Endeavor. It wasn’t that you went down with much a fight but when he ended up burning your arm and almost burning down the building behind you down you were forced to give up.

They thought you really were crazy because of all of your time with the League. In the center of an guarded room is a clear box, no doubt indestructible. Your smile cracked wider as they brought you to a solitary cell away from everyone they got more worried. The sharp to the touch canines were on display for everyone you pass to see who you were. They force you into the cell, cautiously undoing the chains and cuffs that had you shackled to yourself. One of the guards glares at you hard. “Enjoy Hell V/N.”

A laugh leaves you as you slightly tilt your head back. The guards share a glance at each other as you turn to fully face them, a murderous look in your eyes. “Whatever you say.” With a shrug you turn back to the only bed in your cell. “All around the mulberry bush.” You suddenly started singing, making the guards jump as they close the clear cell door. “The monkey chased the weasel.” Your tail sways to the almost hypnotic song you sing. “The monkey thought ‘twas all in fun.” You walk closer to the side of the box they put you in before slamming your hands on the glass. “Pop! Goes the weasel.”

All of the guards jumped at your out burst, making you break out into a laughing fit. “Quiet you.” Your gaze switched onto a guard that stands off by the entrance of the room. With a smile, you press your hand to the glass and flick out your tongue across your bottom lip.

When he doesn’t react you pout. “Oh come on now baby.” Your voice fills the room with ease. “You can’t neglect a puppy like this.” They watch as you make your tail drop and hang between your legs. “I’m all collared up and everything.” He doesn’t budge and you give up, opting to sit on the bed until Gods know when.

Hours must have passed and you were getting bored by the time that something actually happened. The lights went dark before they flashed back on, now a red colour. You sit up, your smile ever brighter as the guards start yelling into their coms about keeping the prisoner secure. Once more your whistling starts as they start to panic and stand guard.

Subconsciously, you start to rub your arm where the burn is under the bandage and the sight sleeve of your prison jumper. A flash of pain runs up your arm, making you wince with a hiss. “A fire started.” You could make out one of the guards yelling. Slowly, your tail starts wagging as you walk up to the clear wall that keeps you inside. You press your hands to the glass, watching the doors that lead to the large room burst open with all too familiar blue flames.

The guards start shooting but are quickly cut off when one of the guards suddenly attacks another. You howl out in laughter, it was like watching a movie. “So glad this is amusing to you puppy.” Your ears perk up as you watch Dabi walk in the room, Toga beside him (no longer in her guard disguise) and the rest of the group not far behind. Your eyes drift away from Dabi and to Shigaraki the moment he steps into the room, your tail moving faster as your filled with anticipation of being let out.

You flash your canines to them, hand on your arm soothingly as you watch them take point in the room. “I missed you guys, you know they’re really mean here.” You pout as you follow Shigaraki inside your box as he makes his way around to the door to said box. You two pause for a moment, only a clear door keeping you apart. “Hi.” Your head tilts as you give him a warm smile.

Shigaraki gives a small smile under the hand that covers his face. “Hi.” Pulling off his two finger glove, he presses his hand to the key card, both of you watching it disintegrate and the door click open. Before he can slip his glove back on you’re hugging him, head buried in his neck as you take in his scent for the first time in what seems like weeks for you but was really two days.

He wraps his arms around you, one gloved hand fully on you and the other with a pinky up as to not risk hurting you. “Could you do me a favor?” You mutter into his scratched up neck, pressing a kiss to one of the recent ones, no doubt caused by the stress of you being locked up.

“Anything my love.” He whispers to you, stroking your back. You pull back from him and gently place your own hand on the collar round your neck. Shigaraki hesitates for a moment, looking at the device and how close it is to your actual throat. “Damn heroes.” He growls before reaching out and gently gripping the device and watches as it disintegrates and shows off your neck and just barely shows off some of the burn from your arm showing on your shoulder and just a little on your neck. Shigaraki narrows his eyes, reaching up his gloved hand and moving your shit collar to the side a bit, becoming angry at the sight of the bandages that wrap most of the burn on your arm.

You place your own hand over his, frowning at him. “Let’s just go home.” You whisper, tilting your head down almost in shame. “Please?” You look up at him with puppy eyes. He gives in with no argument, commanding everyone to move out as he leads you with his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him just in case.

Later that night you’re finally home at the base and wanting nothing more then to go to bed. You laced your fingers with Shigaraki’s as you two walk into your room. “Let me see the mark.” He suddenly speaks up as you go digging through the closet in search of a change of clothes. You perk up, looking at him over his shoulder as he has already removed the hands from his body, leaving you able to finally get a good look at him.

You give a small nod, tugging off the jumper and pulling on a pair of sweat pants before you fully turn to face him. He almost curses at the sight of the bandage wrap that takes up a majority of your arm. “That bad huh?” You muse at the look that crosses his face. You walk over to the bed and sit down, hanging your head low as he walks to stand in front of you. “I swear I hate that hero.” You mutter as he reaches out and gently peels away some of the wrap, seeing the deep red burns on you. “Are you okay?” You look up at him.

Shigaraki looks down at you and sighs, pulling the bandage back up. “You’re the one that’s hurt.” He states, pushing your hair back from your face and petting your ears back, smiling softly at you as you let out a relaxed sigh. The amount of trust that you put in him to not hurt you was amazing to him. Suddenly, you let out a yawn, a small noise coming from you, making him laugh a bit at you.

He’s almost surprised when you grab him by the arm and pull him with you into the bed. “I’m tired.” You lay down in the bed, smiling lazily when he lays down beside you. Giving in to your childish mood to cuddle him. “Tomura?” He hums, arm wrapping around you. “I love you.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead just looks down at you as you snuggle close to him, pressing your face into his chest. He runs a gloved hand up and own your back. “I love you more, player two.”

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flufflebones · 4 years

Text

some more fun hcs about delphine [mc 1.... closest 2 my heart since ive used her in various settings for a While]! it’s a little long so im slapping it under a cut but its all sfw and all very much in good fun.

you know, mostly. i only really got two headcanons down and one is brief/about michael and the other is about pets in the devildom

- can and will fight michael do you think they saw the angel/anni event and were ok with it? yeah? no! just going to kick him hard enough in the shin to....... probably bust their own foot but its FINE

- has an approximate accumulated f*ckton of devildom native and possibly (definitely) magical pets

[The list:

Sosig / Sausage - Hellhound - Gift from Beelzebub!:

A beast of considerable size and [reportedly] god awful temperament, bearing charcoal fur and the lingering [faint] scent of sulphur. More vulpine than canine, their frames are typically gaunt, with the flames that fuel their bodies licking out from the ends of their tails, their ankles and wrists [on their normal quadrupedal legs], the inner portions of their ears [leaving them at a disadvantage when it comes to hearing], their somewhat visible / open ribcage, and the corners of their mouth.

Despite this general introduction, hellhounds are wildly varied and have a number of breeds and variations in recent history, typically intended for one of three purposes.

Companionship - These hellhounds are typically smaller in stature and less sturdy, with a tendency to bond strongly to one or two masters [with some consideration/leeway for those close to their master: See- Cerberus]. Arguably the most docile of any class of hellhound, they are still dangerous if not raised correctly, and have a nasty bite. Though not a true classification and with no formal means of training a hound to do so naturally, some companion hellhounds serve as a psuedo service dog, heavily attuned to the needs and potential problems unique to their primary master. This isn’t to say that they are an alternative to service animals, or anywhere near as well trained, *of course*, but the devildom is hardly the safest place for a regular human realm animal; And sometimes, you’ve just got to work with what you’ve got.

Sport / Show - Typically very much breed standard. While raised to tolerate handling and grooming, these traditionally built hellhounds are temperamental at best and borderline terrifying when their willful nature comes in direct conflict with a demonic handler who bit off more than they can chew. Heavily regulated, and typically owned by the elite.

Protection - The devildom is dangerous, and nobody is questioning that. Demons with a knack for animal handling [or demons who can afford to hire someone skilled with animals, of course!] breed and train these creatures to guard many things; People, places, objects, etc. They’re typically territorial and hard to train as a rule, as one cannot allow for a beast such as this to be tempted by treats or good petting from *anyone*, yfm?

Sausage is a bit of a mixed bag. Born from protective stock and bought by Beelzebub after overhearing Mammon trying to convince Lucifer to get Delphine/my mc a pet [who lays eggs, we’ll get there, that he can sell for a massive profit]. Being the youngest present brother at the time, anything capturing his interest other than food is both welcomed and encouraged in an attempt to positively reinforce him to not put the devildom at risk of a famine.

Delphine unintentionally raised this brick house of a hellhound puppy into a sort of in-between of companion and protector, with him being very social, very sweet, and *fairly* defensive and willful if things aren’t going his way. He’s typically the one to step in most successfully to motivate her to move around [yes, moreso than the brothers!] and do her day to day tasks, and is probably the best way to find out if something’s wrong with her-- Past being able to just kind of drag her off due to their size differential, his general wit and ability to communicate his needs and wants have led to unexpected food deliveries, blankets spread over her shoulders, and human world medicines arriving a few days before she shows any real signs of illness that she can see.

He’s also spoiled as all get out. If you’re sharing a bed/couch/blanket/etc with her, you can bet Sausage is soon to follow. Sorry, Mammon! He loooves table scraps and is almost as bad as Beel when it comes to eating things he shouldn’t [and looking too cute to be scolded about it too heavily].

Rocky - ... That’s just a rock, dude. - Gift from Belphegor:

It’s really hard to tell if Belphegor is messing around when he presents Delphine with a rough hewn black rock bearing two googly eyes, a pair of hilariously out of place crystalized horns, and a pair of similarly out of place crystal wings, but I swear on all things unholy, he’s doing it for a reason.

Though not... Really sentient, initially, Rocky just needs a good, possibly year long charging. Soulstones are sort of... Weird, in that they are inert and lifeless for as long as they remain with the boulders from which they are harvested. but typically-- After being exposed to a single party’s magical runoff and signature for a year or so-- absorb enough energy to come to life, their coloration and mineral makeup adjusting to fit the nature of the being they owe their life to. Delphine’s takes the form of a celestine and blue goldstone peryton; A winged stag. With crystalized wings and antlers, Rocky would almost look majestic; If it weren’t for the fact that the googly eyes have remained a feature that she has never been able to figure out how to remove. Soulstones are typically quiet observers, not requiring active care to thrive but delighting in contact [especially immediately post spell casting or magic use]. They are attuned to the needs of their magic bound masters, and typically exude an air of-- if not positive-- reassurance.

In Delphines Little Canon Divergence Corner, it’s likely that rocky coming into her care is one of the first of many attempts at reconciliation that Belphegor makes with her post chapter 16; And it honestly really, really sets him back, like, even when she returns to the human realm. Forgotten but included in her luggage, it’s a few weeks into her settling down on Earth that she finds the dinky little stone, and an overload of magic-- Possibly emotionally sourced, possibly due to unresolved tension/a discussion that never got to happen because he was being a little jerk about it-- sets off the transformation, which occurs overnight.

She recognizes the little stone figure when it approaches her in the morning, and one of her first texts about it is a simple, succinct “WTF” + an image attachment sent to Belphegor, specifically in the dead of night with the intention to wake him.

Henry “Pogchampion” 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0, A.K.A: “Pip! Minette! Beans!” - Infernal rats - Gift from Leviathan:

A note: If you don’t care for rats or you’re more familiar with their popular association with illness or disease/classification as vermin, and are only capable of thinking of them in that context, I don’t care. I am specifically talking about rats in the context of them being pets-- And good pets, at that. If you want to talk about how much you wish they were dead/didn’t exist, thats not my problem. Just don’t do it on a post discussing them as a pet, or I will block you!

Anyway!

Leviathan is probably the most appropriate person for them to get pet recommendations from, but her asking never winds up a necessity; When he finds out that he’s got another pet enthusiast in the house, he’s *all* about it, and when he finally [very unsubtly] weasels his way into the information he needs, he gets them to come along with him to what’s supposed to be a routine supply trip for Henry that just *CAN’T* be accomplished online. It’s a trip to *a* shop, but not what she’s expecting, especially when she gets to meet a handful of very curious, very playful, larger than a medium sized dog mice and rats. These guys are very much pests turned pets, with a small niche of hobbyists raising them and breeding them for temperament and overall health and disease resistance. Very social and very intelligent, they tend to thrive best in groups if one is not devoting all of their time to them as an individual. The type Leviathan recommends are on the smaller side, with cloudy, soft fur and sweet temperaments. And massive teeth, nubby horns, spade tipped tails, and very large, typically bony or leathery wings.

Levi is... Probably the one who wanted them, really. They get a little big, and tend to like to roughhouse, and they chew like nobody’s business-- And while he can’t risk his figures or merch or other Otaku Trappings or wires for everything in his room, he *CAN* risk Delphine’s. Plus, Sausage needs a friend, right? Or three?

They pick up three, all of whom are sisters, and all of whom on paper are named Henry “Pogchamp”, 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0, since he *is* technically the one paying for them and at least gets to do that much. Even when they start being named Pip, Minette, and Beans, in casual conversation, he can still hold on to the fact that they’ll always be Henries in his heart of hearts.

Sausage loves them to bits, for the record, but their interactions tend to be supervised/very brief even without the worry of him being able to harm any of them due to the general (and very appropriate) ill advisement of large predators interacting with smaller prey animals. It’s cute, sure, but it can be dangerous, and Delphine (and Levi, to a lesser extent, because he’s using the excuse of them being friends to keep Lucifer off of his ass for adding another animal to her menagerie) isn’t about to risk it.

Sweets - .... A black cat? That glitters? - Gift from Satan and Asmodeus:

Small, sleek, and independent, Sweets is probably the pet people see the least of all of Delphine’s little collection-- Though that doesn’t mean she’s not well loved. A pet project between Satan and Asmodeus, Sweets isn’t *technically* a cat; They’re a being comprised of shadow, somewhat similar in nature to a familiar without the connotation of them technically being a demon slash demonic. Who just so happens to have been enchanted to appear like and generally function in their day to day life as a cat. That sparkles, the only concession Satan was willing to grant Asmodeus in return for his help obtaining the materials necessary to create the little beast (and in return for him taking the heat when Lucifer inevitably got pissy about it). Given its unique nature, very little is actually known about the little being of shadow past basic care and assumptions based on its generally feline behavioral patterns. The rats scare the hell out of it, however, and it tends to be out of sight except when called, hiding in shadows and only occasionally emerging on its own.

... Oh, and be careful. Satan hasn’t told Del yet, but it seems that the belly rubs this shadowy kitty offers tend to bite off more than they can chew if they’re not careful. Asmodeus thinks its horrible. Who wants a pet with a massive maw of teeth in their stomach? Satan desperately wants to use this quirk in Sweets’ nature for a prank. Delphine already knows, but is playing dumb for the sake of faking surprise when its formally revealed.

Elysia - Gilded Crow - Gift from Lucifer and Mammon:

SO, i”M going to keep this short because i’ve been writing this for several hours at this point on and off and i really really want to be ready for my dinner when its ready, but!

Elysia is a sort of... Special circumstance. Literally. Devotees to Mammon-- And yes, there *are* people who think he’s a legitimate demon lord, the only people really allowed to treat him like garbage are his brothers and a few choice officials too strong to be eradicated as any lesser demon might have been-- with a background in magical augmentation specifically enchanted this line of crows to reflect that which is most valued by their Lord; Riches. They’re technically not legal due to their status as something of an organic money generator, but a select few in a small flockare kept under the watchful eyes of the Demon Lord and his immediate family, and those who have been trusted by his family members. This is where Lucifer comes in.

Understandably, Mammon is not allowed to have care of his flock, though he certainly wouldn’t be the worst at caring for them. He’d just also be selling their products illegally, and you can’t have that!

Elysia wears a small enchanted band comprised of dull, unimpressive iron-- The kind of thing Mammon would neither notice nor have interest in. This band is enchanted, and serves as a sort of storage space for any of Ely’s dropped organic components. Talons, feathers, eggs-- Everything is automatically absorbed into the band, rendering the bird borderline useless outside of being a gorgeous pet, and a gigantic nuisance.

Lucifer hates to admit it, but he really is a fan of the large, intelligent, gorgeous creature; And Mammon thinks it’s really funny to teach her to take shiny things (like grimm, loose jewelry, gum wrappers, etc), even past the sentimental value of the bird itself and what her kind represents to him.

Delphine adores her, too, and is about as good an influence on her as Mammon is-- Teaching her to speak, in some capacity, simply by repeating certain words or phrases to herself as she does things in the day to day, especially during feeding time. It’s all fun and games, until this pretty golden bird calls Lucifer a ‘motherf*cker’ while she thinks he’s out of the room while visiting with Diavolo for an update on her health.

#long #obey me #obey me mc #obey me mc headcanon #obey me headcanons

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

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Jae’s Divine Intervention ||| Wonpil x Reader, Jae & Reader

Summary: Jae finds out about your crush on Wonpil and naturally takes the mick out of you. And when you get to play detective, you find out he’s perhaps more supportive than you would normally imagine. Genre: Humour, fluff [if you guys dont find this funny then i... its just me] Warning(s): Some cursing all done in jest (2x sh*t) Word Count: 7735 Theme Song: Tonight - The Solutions; Dive - iKON; Hold - Winner AN: A request from anon, hope you enjoy! I’m sorry it took a while, it’s a lot longer than I usually write tho so I hope that makes up for it gender neutral reader

~~~

“Wonpil?!”

“Jae, I swear to christ—”

“Wonpil?!” Jae’s voice was rising in pitch by the second, a look of astounded horror on his face.

“Yes, Wonpil, what’s so—”

“Our keys? The snake? Our snake that plays the keys?”

“Really, you’re still using that? That’s like, three years old Jae—”

“You—you took one look at the pink sweater and went hmmm, yes, this is the hot stuff, real sexy—”

“Jae!”

“—any man that wears this I will date him on the spot—!”

“Jae!”

The man cackled, leaning right back into his gaming chair with his head tipped over the side. “Oh my god this is just...!”

You pressed your tongue to your cheek, waiting for the grown man to gather himself up. Though, knowing Jae, it could well take a while. “You finished?”

He swung back, elbows coming to his knees with his eyes incredulous. “Kim Wonpil?”

“Yes.”

“Not Brian?”

“Why would it be Brian?”

He inhaled through his teeth, tutting. “It’s always Brian. And then, of course, yours truly.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “I regret ever talking to you.”

He sat back, sending you a smirk. “Nahh, you would never regret me.”

“Can we just go back to discussing like, dinner tonight?” you glanced distastefully around at his room, taking note of the pile of laundry abandoned by his wardrobe. “Like I came into your lair for in the first place?”

“Hey, easy there—!”

“Honestly Sungjin would have a fit if he comes in here,” you announced, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Well it’s a good job he isn’t coming in here.” Jae easily met your stare, pursing his lips, knowing full well that starting a battle with him would be the hardest you could try to win in the dorm. You backed down, but didn’t shy away from his stare as he pressed his fingertips together, taking on the role of a faux mastermind, “But no, dinner can wait, because this—this—is much more intriguing.”

Taking in the nod of his head, and the smug grin on his features, you realised that you weren’t going to escape as you’d hoped. Might as well be comfortable.

“Now,” he began once you took a seat on his bed, flicking a rogue sock to the floor, “start from the beginning. When did you realise that you were hopelessly in love with this, Mr Kim.”

“Since when was this an interrogation?” you interjected. “Also I am not ‘hopelessly in love’!”

“Infatuated?”

“No!”

“Lovesick?”

“Not a bit!”

“Helplessly inclined on the edge of your seat to hang upon his every little word?”

You didn’t even answer him that time and merely glared at him.

He nodded pensively, patting a finger against his chin as he murmured, “In denial, interesting...”

“What?!”

He changed tact. “Do you not know the exact time for your realisation for your deep feelings?”

“Even if I did I wouldn’t tell you,” you sulked, folding your arms crossly. He let out a quiet ‘aww’, which you ignored to the best of your capacity. “What has gotten into you?”

“I’m just trying to work out if you are,” he cleared his throat, “fit for my closest colleague and good friend. After all, we’ve been through so much, I wouldn’t want any harm to come to him—”

There were many things wrong to his wistful, jesting sentence, but there was one thing that you had to refute: “Last week you told Sungjin you would sell Pillie out for half a churro.”

His smart mouth stopped for a few seconds, and you figured briefly that you’d perhaps won and could leave. Alas, you were mistaken.

“Refers to Mr Kim as ‘Pillie’, indicating a very special degree of endearment, interesting...”

You groaned, falling back onto the rest of the mattress, asking the world what you’d done to deserve this.

Truth be told, Jae wasn’t worried for his bandmate or you in the slightest. Hearing your accidental slip of your feelings, everything seemed to come together at once and fit like two missing jigsaw pieces. You both had traits that accentuated the other, and you got along so well. If you two got together, he discerned, there would be few power couples that could compete.

He didn’t understand shipping culture, but this was perhaps his one exception. It just made sense! His soft charms next to your harder ones, your sense next to his sunny optimism, the both of you still sharing much in common.

“Six months,” you suddenly admitted.

“Hmm?”

“My, you do delight in my torment,” you grumbled before shooting him a look that softened as you continued, the memory trickling to the surface and making it impossible for you to not smile. “I’ve liked him for six months. It hit me when he fell asleep on my shoulder on our trip up to Incheon.”

One of those shared things being bouts of shyness.

He decided in that moment that it was time for some divine intervention.

“That’s a long time ago,” he mentioned, “and you haven’t done anything about it?”

“How could I?” you countered, though it was more sad than feisty. “How do I confess to the gentlest, happiest soul? How am I supposed to even know if he likes me back? He’s cuddly with everyone, you know.”

One glance at your crestfallen eyes that shone through your little chuckle lit a spark in his head.

“Don’t you worry, Y/N. God works in mysterious ways,” he reassured, sending you a wink.

And so began the grand unravelling of The Great Jae’s plan.

Step 1: Establish if the Feelings are Mutual

The first step, as Jae understood it, was crucial—nothing else could be done until he knew if the keyboardist also had a whopping crush on his friend. And they had made some fair points about how hard it would be to calculate whether Wonpil was just being friendly affectionate or more than that.

So, to get the answer cleanly without collateral, Jae concocted a plan so cunning he could put a tail on it and call it a weasel.

The next day, Jae slipped into the practice room, after locating his whereabouts through a super secret and effective method dubbed as ‘asking Sungjin’. He strode up to the keyboard set where the younger was staring intently at one of the keys, swiftly adopting a confident stance—he would not be swayed by any sneak attacks, and especially not attempted deflections with puppy eyes: a weapon he knew his bandmate was highly proficient in.

Hearing him mumbling about whether they should invent a H note, Jae made the choice to enact Step 1, taking advantage of the possible surprise characteristic.

“Wonpil, do you like Y/N?”

Peering up with his classic bright smile, Wonpil answered him swiftly, “Yeah!”

Jae frowned, the response seeming too quick. He had to comprehend it as a misunderstanding of his question. He pressed the charge. “Well, yeah, I figured you liked them, but I meant it as in more of a—”

“I know how you meant it, hyung,” he looked back at the keys, testing a C tentatively.

“Oh.” Jae was surprised to say the least. “How did you...?”

“I’ve been waiting for one of you to ask me,” he explained poutily, “you always seemed to tease me about it when I didn’t have someone, and then as soon as I actually fell, not a peep.”

Jae had to admit that the entire exchange had caught him off guard, as he became distinctly aware of how slowly the cogs were turning in his head. “You were... waiting?”

He nodded urgently at the sound board, twisting a dial as he held his ear closer to the instrument.

“You know the sound isn’t on right?”

“The key is squeaky.”

“Oh.”

“Of course I was waiting,” Wonpil replied simply, taking a simpering pause, “aren’t you going to ask me?”

Jae watched as the younger suddenly sat up and swung himself to look at the legs of his keyboard stand, giving them a good wobble. There was no doubt a squeak then.

“Ask what, about what you like about them?” he suggested, not really sure himself.

“Finally!” The younger threw himself back out from underneath the instrument. “Everything, hyung, I think I’m actually in love! Their laugh, their kindness, their eyes, their jokes—I feel like I’m going to burst whenever I see them, like into just, laughter, I can’t stop smiling, I just want to hug them and kiss their nose...” When he knocked his head back up to him, his smile was even brighter, his cheeks lightly blushed. “Is this what Younghyun-hyung means when he says that love hurts?”

Jae was more than happy to hear proof—it meant Step 1 was a success after all—but hearing the sap did mean he had to hide his grimace. But now he was presented with a more severe problem, as he knew full well that wasn’t what the bassist, who could dip into the realms of emo territory, meant at all by that phrase.

It didn’t mean he was going to explain it. Especially seeing those eyes brimming with adoration for his closest friend—he cursed at himself giving into the puppy eyes after all.

“Yeah, probably,” he answered vaguely, opting to change the subject, “well, I’d better be off, thanks!”

“Hey, hyung, where do you think you’re going?” Wonpil called after him as he attempted to make a tactical retreat, having gathered the information he needed.

Jae turned around, lying through his teeth as his brain searched for an excuse. “I... well, I need to go and do...”

“Without wishing me good luck on fixing my keyboard stand?” he enquired, pouting childishly from the other side of the room.

“Good luck...?”

“Ok, you can go!” he announced, sending a wave. “Bye!”

And with that, Jae exited the practice room, frowning at his reflection in the glass of the window as he passed through. Wonpil was strange sometimes, that was for sure.

It didn’t matter in the long run though, it was going to be your problem soon rather than his—a thought that elicited a snicker from him—and with Step 1 complete, he could proceed to Step 2.

Step 2: Create the Confession Arrangement

Jae had figured that the third step would have required the most work, but he had be drastically wrong. He’d presumed coming up with the perfect scenario for a confession would have been easy, but once he’d sat down in the living room to think in peace, an hour later he found himself lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, without a single idea in his head.

Chasing the tails of all the ideas that taunted him and skipped just out of reach every time in his head, he barely heard the sound of someone else entering the fray. And he would have continued to have done, had the newcomer not come to stand beside him and peered over his sprawled body.

“Hyung, are you ok?”

The deep voice snapped his eyes from where they were transfixed on the ceiling to the cherubic face of Dowoon, currently in the process of devouring a pretzel.

Jae snorted, still barely comprehending his presence. “Of course.”

The younger tilted his head to see him somewhat the correct way up. “Are you sure? You’re laying on the floor.”

“I am aware, and yes, a hundred percent,” he answered, putting on a confident front as best he could, “this, young padawan, is the sight of a master at work.”

Dowoon hummed in an agreement of sorts, “Oh, right.” He took a deep bite of the sweet dough. “What are you working on?”

Jae finally recognised the notable rustling of a paper packet, his eyes falling to the treat. “I am devising the most wondrous plan the world has seen to—is that my vanilla pretzel?”

“No.”

He said it so quick and devoid of emotion there was no way to tell whether it was a lie or not. Jae was left peering up at the man as he took another bite, who sent him a thumbs up as a form of endorsement. “Right. Well... I am devising a plan that will get Wonpil and Y/N to admit their feelings for one another and finally unite as the planet’s best ship and sail off into the distance together!” A victorious grin on his lips, he looked like a man that had already found success. “I have already completed Step 1 with peak success, now I must move to Step 2 and—”

“What was Step 1?”

“Finding out whether their feelings were mutual, of course!” Jae guffawed, surprised that Dowoon could not connect the two dots.

He peered over to him again to see him frowning as he angled himself to take the final bite of the pretzel. Before he could ask what the matter was, he preempted him, stating, “You didn’t know?”

That caught the eldest off guard. “What?”

“You didn’t know that they both like each other?” he glanced towards him, eyes expectant as he shoved the dough past his lips. “I thought everyone knew.”

“Well, I...” Jae coughed, quickly covering his back, “...there’s a difference between assumption and ascertaining proof, maknae. Now that I have evidence I may move onto Step 2.”

“And that is?”

Jae caught the tone of curiosity this time in the intonation of the man’s deep voice, making note to take advantage of it as soon as possible. “Create the confession arrangement. I must make a scenario where the only possible eventuality is that the two confess to one another their true feelings.”

Dowoon nodded, licking his fingertips free of leftover sugar.

“You wanna help?” he enquired, angling his head to get a better view of his band mate’s features, waiting for the smile to arise.

“Sure.” Discarding the paper bag on the coffee table nearby, he lowered himself to the floor, laying on his back and mimicking his elder.

“Good choice,” Jae clapped, turning his attention back to the ceiling.

“What ideas have you got so far, then?” Dowoon began, drumming his fingers against his stomach as he followed suit.

“Well...” Panic filtered through Jae’s system, as he suddenly realised he didn’t have even the tiniest beginnings of a thread to follow, let alone a part of a suggestion. “We could lock them in a room,” his mouth said before his brain could catch up. He cursed to himself in his head. No, that was stupid. It was so inhumane!

“What, like an escape room scenario?”

Jae’s head immediately tilted towards the man lying beside him. Yoon Dowoon, as things turned out, was a secret genius.

Without warning, he laughed, getting to his feet and grabbing the younger by his hand to pull him up after him. “Yes! Exactly like an escape room!” He held him by the shoulders and asked, “Do you have any ideas for any puzzles? Or riddles? Could be an anagram, or a pattern somehow, maybe general knowledge based?”

Dowoon thought long and hard for a moment, and it showed on his face, his dark eyes going wide as his jaw dropped. “No, but I know where to get the keys to the locks on the doors.”

Their eyes met for a good few seconds as Jae mulled over the decision of whether to bring up how he had obtained such knowledge. He finally rationalised he’d ask at another less frantic time.

“Great!” he exclaimed, before ordering, “You go sort that. I’ll go get some pens and paper. Be quick!”

And so Step 2 was in motion.

Step 3: Organise the Confession Arrangement

“Ok, listen up soldiers,” Jae declared, “because here’s the plan.”

He was stood at the front of the work room beside a board that he’d stolen from the marketing block, proudly displaying a rudimentary plan of the dormitory and accompanied by several haphazard arrows drawn in a dying pen. He overlooked the rest of the room courageously, eyeing up his gang of abductees volunteers, who merely stared at him confusedly in return.

“Why am I here, again?” Sungjin suddenly enquired, glancing around the room. “This surely is one of those Things-We-Don’t-Tell-Sungjin-About things, right? I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to know about this.”

“But none of us do...!” Jae uttered, rolling his palms to encourage the others to catch onto his meaning. They didn’t. “None of us know about it, yeah? Because none of us did it!”

“But that makes no sense,” Sungjin rationalised immediately, “because someone will have had to have set all the puzzles up?”

Jae didn’t have an answer to that. To both a blessing and a curse, however, he didn’t have to reply to that question. He just got another one in its place.

“I’m sorry, wait, what are we even doing?” Younghyun interjected, glaring at the hastily dictated plan with a curled lip.

“Getting Wonpil and Y/N together, we’ve been over this, Brian.”

“Surely they can just... do it themselves though, right?” Sungjin countered, squinting at the header of the board. “It really doesn’t require an all-out, multi-step plan—is this Step 3?”

“Good to see you’re checking the diagram,” Jae retorted.

Younghyun’s voice was incredulous, “How many steps are there?!”

“Four.” It was Dowoon’s turn to interrupt, it seemed, and he piped up fluidly before Jae could try to regain any control upon the late night board meeting.

“What were steps 1 and 2?!”

“Step 2 was inventing this beautiful idea,” Jae started.

Only for Dowoon to finish, “Step 1 was him working out if Wonpil liked Y/N back.”

It was their turn to eye Jae up in disbelief, a chorus erupting:

“You didn’t know?!”

“How can you’ve not known?!”

“All he does is pine after them...!”

“Alright alright!” Jae called, pleading for the three to settle. To his fortune they did, but most likely only out of the prospective joy of him further making a fool of himself. “The past steps don’t matter, I need your help now to complete Step 3. You will all reap the benefits of Step 4, when this is all a success because—as you said—all Wonpil does is pine after Y/N. This,” he pointed assertively to the diagram, “will put a stop to all that!”

Silence settled over the room as the three all glanced at each other, all nodding in some form in agreement.

Jae took the chance and continued, his hand laying out the directions on the board as he spoke, “So, all we have to is move Wonpil to Y/N’s room, and set up the puzzles in there. Sungjin, Dowoon, you’re on set-up, Brian you’re on lift duty. It is all objectively simple, but one wrong move could wake either of them up thus exposing the entire ploy and I’ve yet to come up with an excuse so you’ll be on your own.”

“Of course,” Younghyun muttered, not even bothering to look Jae in the eye to convey the sense of how done he was.

“You’re not helping?” Dowoon piped up, his soft features portraying a slight hue of hurt.

“I can’t, Y/N already expects me. If I’m caught then there’s zero opportunity of a follow up plan—at least one that features me,” Jae explained, ignoring the mumbles of ‘perhaps it would be better that way’ that echoed around the room. He shot a look to the one he suspected the most of being the owner of said grumblings, watching as he leant back in his chair.

“Can this not at least wait ‘til tomorrow?” Younghyun requested, emphasising his point with a yawn.

“No! Y/N is out Saturday, and regardless we must strike while the iron is hot!”

This sent the energy of the room from benevolent boredom to startled flurry.

“It’s happening right now?!” The leader desperately looked to the eldest for reassurance that this was most certainly not the case, only to find none.

“Yep,” he stated, a shrug on his shoulders and a smirk on his lips. “Once you’re done, you make sure you leave no trace of yourselves and lock the door. Leave the key on the living room table and then you may return to your own rooms and do what you wish—as long as there is no noise. If their sleep is interrupted, the plan could quickly go south,” he finished with a clap, “now, positions everyone! And good luck!”

With only a few groans, the three practically sprung into action, much to Jae’s surprise. Dowoon piled up the props and prompts riddled with such in his arms, Sungjin holding the door for him and Younghyun who both head out in quick succession.

“Thank you, Sungjin,” Jae called to the door. He received an expression of many emotions—disdain, disbelief, bemusement—all around a set of very bright eyes. He exhaled abruptly in what was a laugh that demonstrated that mixture, before leaving with the shake of his head.

It was showtime.

You awoke gradually to the sun streaming through the wide gap between the curtains. Groaning, you cursed to yourself about how you’d forgotten to close them the night before.

After admitting that if you wanted to go back to sleep or even just lay in your bed in peace for a bit longer the curtains would have to close, you sat up, only to swear you had shut them the night before.

Rolling out of the covers dozily, you hobbled over to the window, squinting against the light, where upon the curtain tie you found a piece of paper dictating a series of hand-drawn triangles in shades of pink, grey and white. Rubbing your eyes you tried to detach it, only to find it secured with string.

Feeling confusion flush through your bones as quickly as the sleep left them, you looked across the room to see another sheet of thin card this time, roughly torn at the corner and branded with a giant, rounded, crimson splodge adorned with a malformed triangle of green.

Both thoughtless and speechless in entirety, your eyes frantically searched the room for further signs of intrusion. To your disturbance you found your room littered with rudimentary placards, decorated with strange arrows directing to one another, or strange looped calligraphy. One was stuck crudely to a Star Wars shopping bag, and as much as you enjoyed The Rise of Skywalker, you definitely did not have a bag for it. Another was blatantly an anagram. Making the mistake of looking up you were confronted with a gigantic poster of a film with the title and cast heading covered by MS Paint swirls. The image depicted seemed familiar, but it didn’t make their staring faces any less intimidating as they glared at you from your ceiling. It was as if you’d walked into a nightmare that was haunted by puzzless.

“What the actual, ever loving f—” Your voice cut off as soon as your gaze finally rested back upon your bed. Only to find someone else in it.

Thoroughly creeped out, your brain ricocheting through thoughts and questions like they were caught in a hurricane—who is that, how long have they been there, they were sleeping right next to me, they snuck into my room, is it a sasaeng, did they do anything—you were ready to charge towards the door and yell your lungs out for help.

Until the figure shifted in their sleep, their arms thrown up cutely by their head which peaked out from behind the duvet. It was Wonpil.

Breath catching in your throat, your hand clasped itself to your mouth in an effort to not shriek in surprise more than anything.

You’d shared your bed with Wonpil. He’d been right beside you, his beautiful face just inches from yours, sleeping peacefully with his hands sweetly gripping the covers and his adorable little snores—

Your heart lurched at the image your mind conjured, for it to then crash over the fact that he had the audacity to sneak into your room. The conundrum before you left you in turmoil—you couldn’t believe that you’d fallen so hard for a man who would break into your room in the middle of the night and disregard your privacy so blazonly.

It didn’t make any sense. You’d known Wonpil for a while, and he showed so much respect the entirety of that time. Yes, he was clingy, but you could think of multiple occasions where you had told him to back off and give you space, because you were stressed or angry with someone else or even just too hot to let him lay on your shoulder, and every time he did. You couldn’t think of a single time when he came into your room without knocking either.

But was that enough to discount the ‘first time for everything’ rule?

Given the circumstances, perhaps it was.

Regarding the mess of your room again, it was plausible that Wonpil could have put up some of the weird pieces of card, but he couldn’t have done it all—not without help at least. Taking in the height of your ceiling, he was too short to reach it. Had someone stood on your bed you would have woken up, there was no doubt about it, and you didn’t have a desk in your room, so there was no chairs to stand on. The nearest ones were in the others’ rooms, but it seemed too far of a stretch—especially since you knew that there was one person that could reach.

Jae.

You glared in disdain at the corner of your room as if you were on The Office, until you remembered that you weren’t alone in the room.

Taking a deep breath you silently made your way across your rug to the side of your bed. Kneeling in the soft cotton you took in the sight of Wonpil closer this time, resisting the urge to stroke his soft cheek that he’d puffed out as he pouted in his sleep. Perhaps it wouldn’t be long before he woke.

“This wasn’t you, was it,” you murmured to him, taking gentle delight in how he wriggled towards you in his sleep at the distant sound of your voice. He looked so sweet, and the concept of being able to wake up to him beside you every morning made heat rush to your cheeks like a tsunami.

He was so good at making you smile, he could do it without even trying. The thought reminded you of when he had gone out of his way to somewhat try to, making you his chosen target for the only ‘prank’ he’d ever performed. He’d decided that he would for his prank debut place tiny plastic dinosaurs around the place for you to run into. You’d been bemused, but only for a day, quickly finding him out after catching him placing one in the fridge.

It was fortunate that you’d been reminded of the memory—even if you were primarily focused on how angelically he’d giggled a threadbare excuse that neither of you believed for a second but only made you fall in love further—as it that had been a while ago, and filling your room with strange and distastefully carried out puzzles was not what you figured his prank comeback would be. He would at the very least make them look nice.

“I’m sorry for doubting you,” you whispered, tucking the blanket further to his chin to keep him warm before getting to your feet again. You had to admit, you got a bit of a rush out of playing detective, and with a theory hot on your mind, you knew it wouldn’t be long before you found evidence that proved it.

First you checked the door it discover it locked as you had expected. Then you moved to the puzzles. Staring intently at the placards, you found that they all pointed to someone who was either awful at editing and drawing alike, or had simply done it in haste and didn’t care for the visual outcome. However this was not as concrete as you’d imagined. You definitely couldn’t see it being anyone other than Jae but after checking several puzzles and not seeing a single bad joke or reference in sight, you were beginning to doubt your first impressions.

Hearing the bed creak and a groggy whine muffled by a yawn, you flicked your head away from your wardrobe. There you found Wonpil sat up in a nest of your duvets at his waist, with dishevelled hazel tresses endowing him with faux cat ears or sorts. He was barely awake and hardly functioning, blinking lethargically while he slowly returned to the world of the living.

“Morning,” you greeted with a stutter, clearing your throat sheepishly straight after.

His lips spread cutely into a grin. “Morning...!” he sang.

It took several minutes of you trying to maintain your gaze on the messy art piece that was sleepy Wonpil, before giving up and disappointedly returning to the barely-legible riddle in your hands, for the man to finally speak with up with a frown.

“Wait, why are you in my room?” he enquired, rubbing his nose. “Did you sneak in...?”

“Actually you’re in mine,” you corrected, squinting at the calligraphy so as to let him come to terms with the situation.

His eyes opened in a flash, glancing around the room in astonishment. “Oh my god why am—I’m in yours?!” He gushed with apologies. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t sneak in I promise, I don’t remember coming in here! I don’t understand... did I sleepwalk...?”

“If you did it would be a first,” you stated, chucking the paper to the bin near your closet and staggering to your feet, “it’s ok, Pil, I’m not mad. Besides, I think you were carried.”

“Carried?”

“You always were a heavy sleeper. But that does mean that Younghyun or Dowoon are in on this, which means I don’t understand what this whole thing is,” you explained, glancing up at the ceiling and sighing exasperatedly, “do you recognise that movie?”

Following your line of sight, he jumped at the sudden pair of eyes that he found staring at him. He shook his head. “N-no. Y/N... what’s going on?”

“Apparently the guys decided that for their latest prank they were going to make an escape room of sorts, and then stuck you in here with me for double the fun.”

“But why?”

You shrugged. “I guess they’ll open the door if we figure out all the puzzles of something. Problem is these puzzles are like, stupidly hard.” You pointed over to his right. “Like, why is there a mutant tomato on my wall?”

“Ew,” Wonpil said with a grimace as he beheld the visage of the red splodge.

“I know right. Whichever one of the did it should never consider art school. Like, ever.”

Silence fell over the two of you as your eyebrows knit together, once again thinking over the possible answers to any of the dozens of puzzles. Wonpil meanwhile slipped out of your blankets and headed towards the door.

You had half a mind to call out to him and say it was locked, but you figured he’d already worked that out, so instead you watched him out of curiosity.

He came to the door with a stop, rattled on the door handle once, then twice, before pressing his face close to the wood. “Sungjin!” he wailed, before pressing his ear to it to listen.

For several moments there was complete utter quiet over the room and the dorm outside. The only sound that could be heard was the birds outside, and even they broke into quiet when they heard an unusual absence of chatter.

Then out of the blue Wonpil stiffened in his place, before leaning in even further, his features alert.

After a few seconds you enquired mimicking the quiet, “What is it?”

“I think I just heard someone tell Sungjin that he ‘needed to remain strong’,” Wonpil looked at you quizzically, “what does that mean?”

“Sungjin’s in on it too?” You were hugely surprised by that, so much so that you couldn’t hide it in your voice, the volume tipping out of the realms of a murmur. You’d thought it was a certainty that Sungjin was not aware of what was going on, because he was too mature to play along. But you’d clearly gotten him wrong this time around. “Th-that must mean this is serious,” you continued, slipping into a slow pacing motion across to the window and back, “that it’s super funny, or that he goes to seriously gain something from this.”

“But how is this funny, I’m not laughing...!” Wonpil said with a pout audible on his lips. He wondered if there was a funnier side that he was missing out on due to his concern for you overpowering it. He didn’t like how you stepped back and forth, even if it was only slow and steady and hardly impulsive. He didn’t want you to be stressed, he wanted you to be happy. It dawned on him that it was becoming increasingly harder for him to hold himself back from meeting you part-way and bring you to a stop, his hands brushing your shoulders and squeezing them gently in reassurance as he met your eyes— He shook his head, sending him hurtling out of his imagination just in time to hear you agree.

“Exactly, unless he wrote some of the riddles and his sense of humour was not what I thought it was—what we thought it was.”

“But Sungjin would never use stuff this bad!” he cried, hand motioning to the poorly executed diagrams while his eyes trailed away from you and onto the tomato on the wall. “He would be much more careful than... that—I don’t think he ever could make something that ugly!”

“Exactly!” you echoed his tone of urgency. “Which means he stands to gain! But what the hell does he get out of locking two people in a room with a bunch of evil puzzles?”

Watching your form become gradually tenser by the second, Wonpil’s resolve against his desires loosened before unravelling entirely.

He strode unusually powerfully across the floor, his body blocking you and your pacing in your tracks. His proximity startled you, but as his hands came to gently held your shoulders you realised how tense your body had accidentally become. Taking a deep breath as best you could with the biggest crush you’d ever had standing right in front of you, you slowly began to calm down. It was just a stupid prank, there was really no reason to get worked up to that extent, or anywhere near it.

Your thoughts drifted from the circumstances you were currently trapped in however, supplanted by the feel of Wonpil’s touch, and the way his eyes met yours. His eyes were so pretty you felt yourself sink head over heels in them whenever you accidentally made contact. And the emotion that filled them to the brim at that moment and let them glimmer even more than normal in the radiant sunlight caught you even further off guard. You’d seen it a lot, even in large doses, and how it made him look even softer, even more adorable, made you almost spill words from between your lips. However like this, you could barely handle it.

“Sorry,” you said, willing your voice to remain stable unlike your heartbeat.

“No, don’t be sorry! We’ll get...” It felt like he didn’t want to end his sentence but forced himself to. “So, they’re all in on this?”

His hands fell away from you, just as you looked away from him, unable to catch your breath otherwise. As it turned out it was a lucky move at the right moment. “Yeah, it seems so. N-now why? That’s the question. I don’t know, but what I do know is—”

Having pulled away, you’d begun to walk back to the door, thinking up the words to perhaps call out and talk them into freeing the two of you. Though as you did, your peripheral caught the odd transformation your closet door had done.

After performing a ridiculously overplayed doubletake that would have appeared to any onlookers out of context as fake, you noticed that there was a nearly full-sized image of a deep chestnut archway with the poor illusion (due to the angle) of a small opening inside. Drawing nearer you were able to make out a speckled grate suspended in the right wall of the wooden box.

What the image printed over three sheets of paper was sprung to your head immediately, much alike the jigsaw pieces jumbled in your head slotted together.

It was a confession chamber.

You had to confess, but not to a priest. To Wonpil.

“God works in mysterious ways...” you remembered from the previous day, uttering the words as you replayed them in your mind. “Jae, you shit.”

Wonpil came to your side, peering round to take in your features, searching for an explanation in the sheer beauty he always found there. “What’s wrong?”

“I know how to open the door!” you announced proudly, the sense of victory washing away as you came face to face with what you had to do however.

Wonpil’s characteristic sunny smile rose to his cheeks, all while you sat there barely able to stomach your anxiety. “Yay! What do we have to do?”

You didn’t know how to go about it. You didn’t know whether to tell him, to ramble, to keep it simple, or to just kiss him like you wanted to for however long it had been. “Confess,” was all that tumbled from your mouth, and you immediately regretted speaking at all.

The subject of your affections stood as silently as you did before him. You could see the rush of thoughts in his head, his cheeks flushing as he finally spoke up, “Confess our... sins?”

“Not sins, no...”

It was at that moment you realised your feelings were mutual. He wouldn’t look you in the eye like he always did, he was skipping over the obvious conclusion,and he wasn’t drastically denying a single thing. He didn’t run, nor hide, in fact he leant towards you. It was only a fraction of an angle, but with a small bite of his lip the air fled your lungs.

“Do you...” you breathed, taking a tiniest step towards him—you’d been so close already, but now he was practically against you, just not quite—as your fingers twitched at your sides, “do you want me to do it?”

His nod was strong compared to his voice which was so delicate, as if he couldn’t believe what was unfurling before him. “Please!”

With his encouragement you let those ready fingers ease up to the edge of his jaw, gracing the fine stubble there as you sank you palms against his cheeks and held your dreams in your hands. “Wonpil, I’ve liked you for so long... I fell for you, more than anyone I’ve ever met before. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Don’t say sorry, I didn’t tell you either,” he reminded with a chuckle, his dark eyes bright and shining and wide at you coming ever closer, “and not being near you makes my heart ache so please, just kiss me and make it stop forever.”

You didn’t have to be asked twice.

His hands barely had enough time to snake around your neck as you bridged the gap and let your lips meet at last. And it was like the whole world sighed in relief.

His lips were so warm, the softness etched with all his thoughts and his moments of anxiety and sadness. You wanted to kiss them all away, so that the only ones remained were the ones out of happiness, out of his smiles and playfulness.

It had been so long since you’d began dreaming of this moment, and now it was at last happening you never wanted it to end. But it had to end, and though you felt more than ready to deepen it, there was a click from the door behind you.

Springing away from each other in surprise, you immediately both looked over to the origin of the sound, your hands meeting in place of your lips.

“It worked?” Wonpil asked the air more so than you, his free fingers extending to the handle tentatively.

You drew to him, letting go of his hand to place your own on his shoulders a you peered over them. “I think it did!”

Taking a quick glance at you, he twisted the brass and pulled gently, his jaw dropping as a gap formed.

You were free. Though a small part of you was disappointed, probably completely interested in staying in close proximity to your crush without disturbances for as long as possible.

Except he was no longer your crush! Your heart lurched as the awareness dawned on you. Completely disregarding the situation, you mumbled so only he could hear, “Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?”

Wonpil turned his attention back to you, giggling as he stroked your hair. “Of course dummy. Did I not convince you?” He squished your cheek. “We can do it again if it’ll help!”

You had to laugh, wanting to roll with his suggestion entirely, though seeing a shadow approach through the gap in the doorway you had to turn the offer down for now. “Real soon I promise!” After noting his pout that very nearly overwrote your decision in one fell swoop, you continued, “Not when the person who organised this is right outside.”

Your boyfriend threw his head over his shoulder to see a head duck out of sight. You watched as his eyes swept the room before falling intently on the bed—more specifically, the pillows. “Do you want revenge?”

Catching onto his idea and grinning at how childish and petty it would be—in context that the plan had actually worked—you didn’t hesitate, wanting to get a piece of that ‘divine intervention’ that had thrown your morning into disarray when he could have at least warned you. Besides, it wasn’t like you could turn down a man so precious twice. It would be akin to heresy.

Grabbing both pillows you handed one to Wonpil and came to a halt by the ajar door. “Remember, play dirty when it comes to Jae. He deserves it.”

Sporting his characteristic sunny smile, your boyfriend let out what you had to discern was a cackle as he slipped through the door and led the charge. “You don’t have to tell me.”

A thwack resounded through the dorms from just outside your door and you had to stifle a laugh at the scream that followed.

Perhaps Wonpil didn’t need your help as you had admittedly first expected.

But where was the fun in that.

“I’m telling you we could’ve put the movie on the side of her wardrobe!”

“And I’m telling you it wouldn’t have fit!”

“...You’re never lifting me again.”

You gathered your breath after your surprise revenge assault, sending Dowoon and Sungjin an incredulous look as you passed. Clearly not all your deductions had been correct. Oh well, things had still played out correctly, and catching sight of Younghyun bringing your boyfriend into a side hug as he gushed about how you managed to save them both—clearly playing up the drama but hey, who were you to stop him, you had no qualms with being a knight in shining armour—made a proud blush rise to your cheeks.

Coming further into the living room, you intercepted Jae who had returned from your room after clearing everything up all by himself as you’d ordered.

“I still have no idea why you made me do all that!” he protested as soon as he caught your eye. “This had nothing to do with me! It was, hundred percent, Dowoon. Just Dowoon. He got sick and tired of your pining and...”

You folded your arms, expression proving just how much you didn’t believe his bullshit.

“You don’t believe me!” he exclaimed, hands flapping. “What have I done to deserve this! Am I not a good friend? Loyal? Like a brother—”

You sighed, shaking your head as you walked over to him, before slipping your arms quickly around his chest. He was startled by the sudden display of affection, but hugged you back nevertheless. “Of course I don’t,” you chuckled, “but we wouldn’t be friends if I did.”

He scoffed at your words, but tightened his arms around you with a smile. He couldn’t have felt prouder in that moment, especially with Younghyun being dragged by Wonpil out of the room [to head out and fetch groceries?] who was delightedly babbling about how soft his best friend felt to cuddle with for real this time. Sungjin meanwhile rolled his eyes at the exchange, padding away and back to the kitchen.

“Ok this means I can ask what made you work it out.”

You sputtered, though immediately gave in. “The confession chamber on the closet.”

“Ahh that was a good one,” he sighed happily, only to change tact soon after as the realisation sunk in, “wait that wasn’t even mine!” You laughed against him, you head tipping back as he searched the room for the true culprit. “Dowoon was that yours?”

You didn’t hear an answer, though hearing the curse that fell from Jae’s mouth offered enough indication to know that the response was in some shape or form affirmative.

Laughter bubbling away into the air, you slowly pulled yourself away from the friend that had practically become an older brother to you. He let you go smoothly, but before you parted from him fully, you stood on your toes and whispered, “Thank you,” a smile on your face that was almost as bright as the ones Wonpil always received.

He sent you a grin, followed by a wink, as you followed after your new boyfriend. Leaning so he could see round the corner, he laughed quietly at how you subtly shoved the other man out of the way so you could take Wonpil’s side.

His heart swelled as your hands naturally found each other’s, linking as if you’d been together for years. It came with a side of a dull ache, as that was what he wanted for himself too.

He wasn’t dismayed for long however. You now owed him after all, and you were well aware of it.

He couldn’t wait to see what you’d come up with.

~~~

AN: no one can stop me from referencing my own work lmao

also a blackadder reference for anyone who knows!

also in germany there is actually an H note apparently so... fun fact.

Masterlist

#wonpil x reader fluff #wonpil #wonpil day6 #wonpil fluff #platonic jae x reader #jae & reader #day6 x reader #day6 #wonpil oneshot #wonpil x reader request

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wolfpawn · 4 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 122

Chapter Summary - Danielle is under considerable pressure with work and a small incident with the dogs causes her to react badly, much to Tom's concern.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

Danielle exhaled anxiously as she stared at the notes she had woken to that morning. It was clear that an insurance company as trying to weasel its way out of paying for something that had happened on one of the US sets and a “Blame Game” had commenced between the client and the insurance company, and both thought they could pin their issues on Safeguard and sue them for the damages, meaning their legal team were gearing up to fight back, but once again, the slack fell on Danielle to sort.

She groaned in frustration as she tried to make heads or tails of what Lucas had sent her. She was used to her own way of doing things, which, as she had learned from many of those that made up her team, was identical to how they did things, and even though his method differed from her own, she was used to how Lucas laid out his work, but what was in front of her made no rhyme or reason as far as she could see. She could see how errors could be made if this is how they organised things, not that she would ever acknowledge that publically.

After three hours of head-wrecking attempts to decode and decipher someone she did not even know to see’s shorthand, she rose from the kitchen table and went to make herself a cup of tea. As soon as she did that, Bobby and Mac began to watch her. ‘Bathroom for you boys, I left you too long as it is.’ She insisted as she ushered the two dogs to the back door. Both dogs walked into the back garden and had begun to consider where to alleviate their bladders when Danielle turned to turn on the kettle, only for her phone to begin to ring. Looking at the number, she swore and cursed the caller before answering. ‘Hello, Lucas.’

‘I see you are just as cheerful as myself regarding the whole situation.’

Danielle scowled at the phone. ‘It is one thing having to clean up mine and my crew’s mistakes, though to date, my worst mistakes have been not dressing as though there is a chance of a northerly wind, not dating paperwork as you want, month, then the day and forgetting my own fax number. This is tidying up the mess of someone I don’t know and who seems to write in a code that would take Alan Turing three years to decipher the work of and I am curious as to why something regarding the US office is once again finding its way to mine.’

‘We have double the workload over here, Danielle, you know that.’ Lucas stated defensively.

‘You also have almost double the staff.’ Danielle countered. ‘I have four guys, all of whom are on jobs at the moment, leaving me to deal with the office paperwork, the managerial work I have to do anyway, my own personal workload and this, Lucas. I cannot delay the paperwork or the Legendary project and I have the next part of the Branagh project due soon and in case it has slipped your mind, having a scene where they effectively bomb a city and shooting the chaos that ensues from such bombings, is not an easy thing to sign off on.’

‘Look, Danielle, I know you are incredibly busy, I do, and I cannot thank you enough for the immense volume of work you have put in over there, really. We never thought we would have a British office up and running this quickly, much less so considering having it as efficiently as you have it. There is a reason why you were able to name your price, you are able to see things that no one else can, you were able to tear apart my work so easily because you are brilliant at what you do. Unfortunately, that also makes you the best person for this job. Your abilities are both your greatest attribute and most cursable one.’

‘Except I don’t even know Matthew’s shorthand, so this is taking far longer than it should.’

‘Because of the legal aspect of things, this office was asked to keep away from it all, especially Matthew, he cannot be seen to be involved in this in any way and we, as his close teammates are deemed to be bias. We have proof via receipts, according to the legal team, that the company paid for low-quality equipment.’

‘It is all Safeguard though, why don’t they want an independent contractor to look through it.’

‘Yes, it is all Safeguard, but we have nothing to hide, so we are going to show them that and the legal team knew you were the best for the job. We also need to be ready to countersue for defamation for trying to ruin our name. That is part and parcel of this, and unfortunately, when the shit hits the fan over there, it will be us cleaning up your mess, myself or Zamir in their office, it is all fair exchange at the end of it all.’

Danielle wanted to snap that thus far, there was little work coming from her side and to not hold their breath on the British office giving them any major work anytime soon, but she knew if she started, she may not stop, and her work relationship with Lucas was tethering between cold and barely courteous at that best of times, so instead, she swallowed back her anger. ‘Have those receipts faxed to me, and I will look at them too.’ she ordered. Looking to the window, her eyes widened as she realised what she was seeing. ‘Shit, Lucas, I have to go.’ she did not wait for a response before hanging up the phone throwing it on the counter and rushing outside. ‘What are you two doing?’ she snapped. Immediately both dogs looked at her, Mac had his ears down, knowing that they were in some form of trouble, Bobby acted as though she was simply coming out to join them, and rushed over to her. Danielle was so busy looking at the destruction site her dogs had created in front of her, she did not realise that Bobby had forgotten his manners in the excitement of having her out with them and that he jumped up on her leg. When she looked down and saw what he was doing, her eyes widened more. ‘No.’ she snapped earning a confused look from Bobby. ‘Bold.’ Having never been chastised in such a manner by her before, Bobby whined, not understanding fully what was going on. ‘Bold dog.’ he lowered his head. When she turned and looked at Mac, he was looking at her guilty. ‘You actually know better.’ He too lowered his head. ‘Bad, bad dog.’

‘Elle?’ She turned to see a very concerned looking Tom behind her in the doorway. ‘What’s happened?’

‘What do you think just happened, these fucking dogs just wrecked the place and to add to that, I am trying to deal with complete and utter fuckwits that are trying to weasel out of acknowledging their own faults and are trying to sue the fucking company, I am taking the slack yet again because of Lucas’s fucking office and what does he say about it, that they’ll have to cover my ass someday like I am on some sort of borrowed fucking time before I fuck up, and while I am trying to deal with all of that shit, these two decided to re-enact the Great fucking Escape,’ She ranted.

Tom looked at her, paying attention to how she was speaking, the sheer number of times she swore and her general mannerisms. ‘Darling, have you eaten or drank anything today?’

Danielle gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘Tom, when the fuck in the whole of that do you think I have five minutes to eat? I left the bedroom and I heard the machine whirring to inform me of the sheer level of fuck ups I have to deal with today, I have not had five minutes.’

Tom went over to her and put his arms around her. ‘You need to take a small break, just an hour or so and get something to eat and a little headspace,’ he insisted, his voice low and his tone soft.

‘I have too much to do, Tom.’ She dismissed.

‘No, Elle, you are getting some food and you are taking a break, you’re incredibly stressed, you need to take a step back.’ He kissed her head.

‘Tom, I don’t have time for this bullshit.’ She growled.

‘Elle, you know I love you, I do, but you are being incredibly horrid and bitchy right now and we both know it is because you are terribly stressed and quite hungry.’

‘I am not….’

‘Elle, you just called Bobby and Mac “these fucking dogs” and you are ignoring the rules you set down for their training and shouting at them, you have Bobby looking as though he is scared of you. You are scaring them.’

Danielle turned and looked at Mac, who was looking at her as though he was expecting her to start giving out again and then she looked at Bobby, who had the appearance of an animal that had just been kicked. She said nothing and her throat began to feel tight and she felt the guilt begin to seep in. She inhaled and looked down at Bobby, who had been clearly happy by Tom’s return but was unsure as to whether he should move or not for fear that he would receive another telling off. Danielle knelt down and scooped the puppy into her arms, kissing his head, then she looked at Mac and called the dog over to her, he obeyed immediately and she hugged him against her too. Mac nudged her chin and wagged his tail slightly, smearing the mud that had been on his snout from his digging efforts onto her, while Bobby ensured no part of her clothes were left clean and he began to wriggle around as he licked her face. ‘You two need to be cleaned up.’

‘I’ll get changed and I will do that.’ Tom turned and went to walk into the house.

‘No, I’m destroyed as it is, I’ll do it. I need to step away from work, anyway.’

‘You need to eat.’

‘I will, in a minute.’ She insisted. ‘Keep Mac out while I do this guy, I will do them one at a time.’ She carried Bobby through the house to prevent him from wrecking the place.

She washed him quickly enough, talking to him as she did, apologising for how she acted, keeping her tone soft and rewarding his good behaviour with affection and attention. As she dried the excess water off him, she cuddled him to her. When that was done, she placed him on the dog bed and went and got Mac. Though he was significantly heavier than the other dog, she carried him through too to prevent too much cleaning, repeating the process with him, though taking longer due to his two layers of fur. When he was dried and she brought him back to the dog bed too and the pleased dog curled up with his smaller partner in crime as Danielle placed the dirty dog towels at the washing machine before stripping off her wet and muddy clothes and choosing to grab some clothes she had planned on washing but were not too bad and walked back into the kitchen, where Tom watched her pick up the paperwork again.

‘You still haven’t eaten.’

‘I’m not hungry.’ She dismissed.

‘Do you have a headache?’ Tom asked, already knowing the answer. She nodded. ‘Take a painkiller, get a wash and I will have some tea, soup and a nice sandwich waiting, no arguing.’ he insisted.

‘Work…’

‘Can wait. Elle, I know you’re busy, you made that very clear earlier, but you were the one that told me you never wanted me going too far for a role, especially if it was going to harm my health. When I am at my busiest, you always make sure that I am fed and watered and here you are, dealing with more than that and you need me to tell you, stop and take a step back, and that is what I am doing, like it or not.’ Tom walked over and kissed her head. ‘I am worried about you. I have never seen you act like that before.’

‘I…’

‘Talk to me, Elle.’ He pleased. ‘Take a few minutes in the shower, and when you come out, we will talk. I want to help, but you need to tell me how.’

‘Sure.’ She nodded, going over to the press and taking out a painkiller and taking it before she walked off.

When Danielle returned to the kitchen, Tom, she realised, had not simply cooked her own soup for her, but had run to the shop for her favourite wrap and a nice strong coffee. ‘Sit and eat.’ He ordered.

‘Yes, Sir.’ She joked.

Tom watched as she sat down and looked at the food. ‘Elle?’

Danielle looked at the counter she had thrown her phone onto unceremoniously and got to her feet and retrieved it before going to the call log and finding what she needed. As soon as she pressed the call button, Tom frowned in disapproval. ‘Hi Lucas, Danielle here, I’m sorry about earlier, the dogs decided we needed a make a pond feature in the garden. Have Matthew send on a key of his shorthand, that is not “assisting” in any way, but it will mean that I may actually decode that damn thing. Thank you, goodbye.’ she hung up the phone and placed it down before smiling at him. ‘Thank you.’ She smiled before taking some soup. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What’s going on, Elle?’

‘I am so stressed with all of this, and then our dogs act like dogs and I...Jesus, I was so horrible to them, but with the Branagh job, all the office work and everything with….’ Tom walked over and put his arms around her. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You need to step back.’

‘Tom, I can’t, you know that.’ She argued. ‘I cannot just pull out of this contract and I cannot just back off because it is shit for a few weeks, I worked my ass off to get here.’

‘I know, but you’re not you and you need to relax a bit. Elle, you have to look after you.’

‘I know.’ She leant in against him.

#I Hate You I Love You #Chapter 122 #tom hiddleston #Tom hiddleston fic #wolfpawn

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 5 years

Text

To Live For, To Die For (Bucky X Reader)

This is the second one I picked for Sea’s 2k milestone XD Gotta say...not nearly as sweet to write this one as it was the other. But I hope you guys like it!

Song: Somebody to Die For

Sequel is up: “Just Like This”

@geosaurusrrex - official congrats on hitting 2k man XD

P.S. There is a reason your last name is “Potts”.

I could drag you from the ocean I could pull you from the fire And when you’re standing in the shadows I could open up the sky And I could give you my devotion Until the end of time And you will never be forgotten With me by your side

The two of them fit.

It was odd, like nothing any of the Avengers had ever seen before. Bucky had spent so much time living to kill, he forgot what it was like - what it meant to simply live. Then he met her. The mutant friend of T’Challa’s wife, Orroro. Shuri told him bits of her history, but refused anymore, forcing him to ask the young woman himself.

“Hey Sarge,” this new woman teased, beaming smile and amused gleam forcing a rose blush on his cheeks.

“Call me Bucky.”

He remembered the way she looked at him, as if seeing through every hardship he’d ever endured and then some. She tilted her head, an emotion he couldn’t place mixing with that clear amusement. Rather than arguing, Y/N merely nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” she smiled. “Bucky.”

The woman had brought him back from the edge in a way Steve couldn’t. Steve kept pressuring him, asking for the friend he once had. No, the words never actually left his lips. Steve wasn’t that kind of guy. But she never expected James Buchanan Barnes or the Winter Soldier. She merely asked for Bucky. All the woman asked for was the ability to understand. And in being so simple, so innocent and kind, she managed to do something no one else could.

Y/N Potts taught him to live for something.

And now they had spent every waking moment together, tending to his goats, helping him with his memories. She was still an enigma to him, something he felt he would never fully understand. But that was okay. He could wait for her.

And I don’t need this life I just need...

Y/N hadn’t expected Bucky to weasel her way into her heart. He wasn’t supposed to. She had only meant to visit Orroro, to update her on the mutants back home, and be done with it. Then she’d be going to New York to visit her sister and that weird genius she continued to date. But there was something about the man that she couldn’t get out of her head. T’Challa said it was normal, that Bucky had that reputation back in the day. Shuri immediately shut him up, reminding him that Bucky was a different person. He wasn’t James Barnes or the Winter Soldier anymore.

And it left her wondering - who was left in their wake?

He was so kind and gentle. Quiet and withdrawn, as if he deserved to live a life in misery. Y/N had never fallen for someone so good. He didn’t see it. All he saw was the blood on his hands. Even so, she saw past it and to the man within. It wasn’t someone for him to become, no, that standard wasn’t something she could hold him to.

But she could help him find who he was - the man past the guilt and regret and shame.

Back home, Y/N was a teacher. She taught mutants of all ages and had a family to love and care for within those youthful faces that had been cast out. She knew what it was like to live for something, for someone.

It wasn’t until Bucky that she learned what it was like to have that person. The "somebody” that Logan had warned her about all those years ago.

Somebody to die for.

I’ve got nothing left to live for Got no reason yet to die But when I’m standing in the gallows I’ll be staring at the sky Because no matter where they take me Death I will survive And I will never be forgotten With you by my side

“You’re my person.”

Bucky looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. The clear confusion was evident in those bright baby blues of his, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain the meaning behind her words. When he realized she wouldn’t explain, he stroked her forehead, where skin met hair, and whispered, “What does that mean?”

She smiled, squeezing his hand before placing a gentle kiss against his knuckles. No, she didn’t need to tell him. Not yet. “You’ll figure it out, Buck.”

“Wait, why won’t you --”

The sound of footsteps outside caught both their attention. They shared a look before Y/N lifted her head off Bucky’s lap. No one bothered him out here. It was almost an unspoken rule that his only visitors be Y/N and Shuri.

So what was going on?

Bucky stood, keeping Y/N behind him as they walked out of the hut. Outside stood King T’Challa, Queen Orroro, and Princess Shuri. So many royals, so many guards, and a case that neither had seen before. Still, they didn’t need to know its contents. Bucky knew. He always knew.

Walking forward, he kept Y/N close. She calmed him in a way no one else could. As he approached, T’Challa opened the case and revealed a brand new vibranium arm.

Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. Instead, she placed a calming hand on his back, lighting tracing the old scars through the course fabric. She didn’t need to look at Bucky to know what he wanted to ask.

“Where’s the fight?” His rough voice held back fear and a bitterness Y/N hadn’t heard before. She hadn’t seen Bucky as a soldier, but she was scared. What would become of her Bucky if he went back to that life?

“On its way,” T’Challa explained before looking to Y/N. “We’ll need both of you.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t answer to you, T’Challa.”

“Y/N. Please.” Y/N shifted her gaze to Orroro. The woman that had helped her when she had first sought help from the X-men. She owed the weather witch everything.

And knowing that, she nodded.

“Is Steve Rogers on his way,” Y/N asked, knowing Bucky would want to see his old friend.

Orroro nodded. “Him and more of his team.”

Y/N didn’t see the way Bucky looked at her. She didn’t see the pain in his eyes or the fear he hid behind a clenched jaw and tense shoulders. No, instead Bucky hid those feelings away as she turned to look at him. She couldn’t see him worry about losing her.

He was her person. Whatever that meant, he had to be strong. For her.

Cause I don’t need this life I just need...

Bucky had never seen Y/N’s powers in action. He’d heard stories, sure, seen her scars like she’d seen his, but this was different.

She was beautiful. She fought like it was a work of art.

Y/N had the power to manipulate water. She could turn it into a solid, liquid, or gas and manipulate its purpose even further.

How had he never seen this before?

Y/N used the water to lift her in the air, keeping close to the river that ran through Wakanda. She froze it, sliding around as if she were creating her own roller coaster. Slicing the water through the air, she decapitated aliens left and right as Bucky ran others down with bullets. Their abilities weren’t suitable for working alongside. One stray bullet, one alien falling at the wrong angle, and she’d fall into the mess.

But still.

She was something else.

However, both stopped and shared a look when they heard Bruce over the comms. “Guys! Guys, Vision needs backup now!”

Bucky opened his mouth to say he was on the way, but Y/N beat him to it. “I’m on it.”

She took off on the ice, knowing she was best to go. She heard the water in the background. Wherever Bruce and Vision were - a waterfall was nearby. Y/N could at least buy them some time until Steve or Wanda got there.

Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for When I’m lonely

The trees were difficult to maneuver around on ice. Y/N knew she needed to save what water she had access to if she was going to get to the falls. She dropped to the ground, ducking and weaving around the massive trunks until she heard the familiar sound of crunching metal.

She screeched to a stop as saw the scene taking place just over the ledge. Bruce was struggling against one of Thanos’s henchmen, a bigger brute. “Bruce?” she called before hearing a cry from behind her.

Y/N spun fast, the water from the falls moving in front of her and catching the weapon in a squishy sort of a shield. She looked up, eyes wide as she came face to face with another one of the aliens. It was tall and slim, scales covering its body with long pointed ears that reached high towards the sky. A massive tail flicked behind its back. Which alien was this? Y/N didn’t care. She didn’t need to know.

“You’ll die,” the alien promised, its voice a low hiss. If it weren’t for the promise, she would have believed the voice was almost soothing.

“Not right now,” Y/N muttered, flipping the blade with a jerk of the water. The alien spun in the air, landing with a thud. Immediately they jumped up, growling at her and sweeping the large weapon low to the ground.

The two circled each other, studying the opposite for weaknesses, for a break. “I saw your little human with the metal arm,” it hissed, tilting its head as Y/N’s shoulders tensed. She flexed her fingers, the water around her spinning faster. “His head is cloudy. Lost, isn’t he?” The alien cackled as Y/N clenched her jaw. “I’ll make him my pet, share the memory of your death with him over and over until his mind is nothing but sludge.”

Y/N knew there were some aliens with abilities similar to mutants. But telepathy? “Let’s not make this personal.”

“Death always is.” The alien grinned, fanged teeth forming a perfect row that sent a shudder down Y/N’s spine.

Y/N refused to let this...thing get the better of her. It leapt in the air, raising its weapon as if ready to strike before Y/N could move.

But Y/N? She was a mutant.

She was an X-man.

She knew how to fight.

With a flick of her wrist, the water lashed forward. It froze in midair, just in time for the ice pick to pierce through the alien’s temple. Y/N sidestepped, looking away as the alien fell to the ground and slid past her. She always hated the sight of death. Grimacing, Y/N walked away from the body and searched through the trees for any sign of Vision.

“Vis!”

The sound of Wanda’s blood curdling cry made Y/N stop dead in her tracks. The sound was heart wrenching. It made Y/N feel more sick than any number of dead bodies or any amount of food. She had to get to Wanda. She took off, running as fast as her legs could carry her.

Leaping over a massive root, Y/N landed in a crouch and her eyes widened when she saw Vision’s body on the ground. Thanos was here.

When I’m standing in the fire I will look him in the eye And I will let the devil know that I was brave enough to die And there’s no hell that he can show me That’s deeper than my pride Cause I will never be forgotten Forever I’ll fight

Y/N heard voices behind her. She turned and saw Steve face to face with Thanos. Her stomach clenched. Bucky couldn’t lose Steve. He couldn’t.

Steve grunted, teeth clenched as he tried to keep Thanos from snapping his fingers. Thanos grimaced, looking at the soldier as if he was nothing more than an insect. Pushing down, he amused himself with Steve’s struggle. This Captain America...so small. So...

Weak.

Thanos threw his arm with a force stronger than his best henchman. He sent Steve flying through trees and landing with a loud thud. Y/N stepped forward, the snap of a branch signaling her arrival to Thanos. Everyone had one goal.

Don’t let him snap his fingers.

She swept her arms, the water she had constantly running around her now rushing forward and freezing around his hand. He kept clenching his fist, flexing around the ice and cracking it. Layer after layer of frozen water appeared. Y/N repeated the process over and over, circling Thanos as he eyed her. He was studying her, she knew it. He was waiting till she ran out.

However, the sight of the clouds rolling reminded her of one particular weather witch on her side. Slowly, rain started pouring from the sky. She used the droplets to form needles. Thanos rolled his eyes. The needles were merely an annoyance.

“Enough of this.”

Thanos clenched his fist, shattering the ice once more. He went to snap his fingers, stopped when a fist of ice hit his palm. He clenched the gauntlet around the fist, eyes slowly traveling down the arm to the mutant before him. There was fear in her eyes, he could see it. But with that, a resilience, a determination similar to that he’d seen in Gamora.

The titan had studied many faces of the Avengers. He learned of them, wanted understand their strengths and weaknesses. She was not an Avenger.

Who was she?

He clenched his fist ever so slightly, letting the ice crack, but not shatter. This was a game.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N Potts.”

He cracked. She saw past that passive facade and saw genuine surprise in those piercing eyes. He’d heard of her.

“A mutant.”

“Clearly.”

“The sister of Tony Stark’s redemption.”

Thanos raised her fist, lifting her in the air. She had yet to see him kill anyone other than Vision. With Vision there was a purpose, a reason. Thanos only killed when there was a reason.

She’d get back to Bucky.

And I don’t need this life I just need Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for I just need...

“Humans. You always think you know best. That you’re better than a universe you have yet to even comprehend.”

Thanos shattered the fist, his hand clenching around her much smaller one. She cried out as she felt her bones shatter underneath his strength. Flipping her free hand, the rain formed into rushing water. A spear found its way to her hand up to her elbow, ready to swipe at his head. Thanos smirked, grabbing her upper arm and twisting to the point where it was just about to break.

“Ungh -” She clenched her jaw, seeing Steve stand out of her peripheral. She glanced his way only for a moment, the faintest smile curling her lips. Steve wasn’t dead. Bucky would be happy.

“Y/N.” Steve muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t hear it.

“Do you kill for the hell of it?” Y/N’s voice came out trembling, tears from the pain slipping down her cheeks. “Step on anything that crosses your path?” She needed to reason with him, to remind Thanos that he didn’t kill for the hell of it.

She had to try to live for Bucky.

“No, I don’t kill for the hell of it,” Thanos answered. Swinging her feet, she pressed them against his chest in an attempt to get away. He jerked her arm, the twist causing a shriek to tear from her throat. Her feet slipped. Y/N hung in the air as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. “I only kill the weak.”

Y/N moved to say more, but the words died on her lips when she saw a familiar face running up behind Steve. More tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw those piercing blue eyes, that brow furrowed in confusion.

Bucky.

“Y/N.” He said her name. She knew he did, but his voice was so low, she didn’t hear it. She saw his mouth move, saw his lips form her name, and her heart sped up. Her stomach erupted in butterflies.

Even with Thanos ready to kill her, she still had butterflies.

Steve held Bucky back. At the moment, Y/N was distracting Thanos. She was alive and keeping him from snapping his fingers. It was buying Thor time. Any sort of distraction and Thanos could and would kill her. Her injuries could be fixed. She could heal. “Buck,” he whispered, voice cracking as he stared at his friend. “Buck, she’s going to be okay. She’s going to live, I promise.” But Bucky wasn’t looking at Steve.

He was looking at Y/N.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking.

“Is that him?” Y/N looked back to Thanos, brow furrowing in confusion. Her nose was runny from crying, her eyes red and puffy. She was in more pain than she had ever been. Normally the fights with the X-men went in her favor. It seemed the Avengers didn’t have their luck.

“What?” she asked, voice trembling.

Thanos watched, pity in his eyes. “The man you’d live for. Your redemption.”

“No. No, I wouldn’t live for him.”

Thanos furrowed his brow, confused.

“But he’s the man I’d die for.”

Thanos nodded, allowing himself to respect that. “I won’t kill you.”

Y/N smirked. “Thanks, but I can’t promise the same to you.”

Ice picks formed at her toes and she kicked up. Her foot connected with the underside of his arm, the one that held the gauntlet. He grunted as she twisted her body. The ice pick tore away from her foot, remaining lodged inside his arm. Thanos dropped her and she landed on her shattered arm. Bone piercing through her skin, she felt something tear through her side.

The smell of blood made her want to throw up.

And I don’t need this life I just need... Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for When I’m lonely

Steve and Bucky took off. Thanos had been playing with Y/N, enjoying someone trying so hard. Now he had all the Infinity Stones. It wasn’t a game. Bucky started shooting at Thanos as a distraction for Steve. He slid in, grabbing Thanos’s hand and keeping his fingers pried apart. He shook, body trembling once again as he used his strength against the titan. While Y/N could distract him with words, with fascinating powers and tear filled eyes, they didn’t have that luxury.

Bucky’s mind wasn’t on Thanos or the people. It was on Y/N. He slid to her side. The arm Thanos had twisted, cracked. The bone had pierced the flesh and dug into her ribcage. He wasn’t sure what was pierced, but judging by her pale complexion, her barely open eyes, Bucky felt his heart clench and contort with an onslaught of fear.

“Y-Y/N,” he whispered, brushing her hair back. “Y/N, stay with me. S-Stay, you gotta stay with me, doll.”

“Bucky -” Steve grunted, forcing himself to stand and push Thanos back. He only got two steps in.

“No,” Bucky growled, his voice low and rough. Thanos said he wouldn’t kill her. He said that, he practically promised it. So why - He cupped her clammy cheek in his flesh hand, stroking her temple. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

She seemed to be looked just past him, her eyes searching for something. Y/N’s lips murmured his name, so low he couldn’t even hear it. She was searching for him. “Y/N,” he whispered, lip quivering as a tear slipped down his cheek. It disappeared in his bear. “Y/N, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Bucky didn’t hear the fight going on behind him. He didn’t hear Thor’s lightning crackling through the sky. All he could hear, all he could see, was her.

“Y/N, please,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. His tears slipped from his cheeks, falling onto hers. Her breathing was shallow, faint. “Please, we can get Shuri. Come on, doll. You can do this. She - She can...Please, Y/N. Don’t leave me.”

Faintly, he heard Thor’s voice say, “I told you...you’d die for that.”

Bucky ignored whatever was going on behind him. Instead, he listened to her breathing. His hand slipped around her back and he cradled her against his chest, soft sobs making his shoulders tremble. “Please,” he whispered, “You’re my person.”

“What did you do!?” Thor’s angered shout broke through Bucky’s pain. He looked down at Y/N, her breathing still...so shallow, so close to something he couldn’t bring her back from. “I’ll be back. I’m going to find Shuri,” he promised, standing up. He looked back, his gaze landing on Thor and Thanos through the tree line. Bucky clenched his jaw, searching through the trees.

He didn’t have time.

“Shuri!” His voice was loud, booming as he tried to find the brilliant princess. She could save Y/N. No matter how many bones were broken or how much blood was lost. Shuri could help her. “Shuri!”

But then he felt...off.

He looked down at his fingers, watching them blow away and turn to dust.

“Bucky?”

Bucky looked up, his gaze landing on Steve. But Y/N. She - “Steve?”

He stepped forward, collapsing to his knees as Steve ran towards him. He watched his oldest friend swoop in and try to catch, but it was too late.

They were too late.

Don’t go gentle into that good night Rage on against the dying light

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jflashandclash · 4 years

Text

Tales from Mount Othrys

Fidget Spinners V

The farthest Cerberus mouth lunged towards Pax. Probably because Pax was now armed with the very item that had caused this puppers so much pain.

Pax assumed he was going to die. He said a quick prayer to his Mayan gods and Catholic overlord and cowarded away as best he could.

Instead of having three heads calls dibs on his own, the one that had hovered over the paw snapped at the others. It made a whining noise, disrupting the attack.

Then, it leaned down and licked Pax from foot to hair.

In the best of cartoon fashions, his hair stood up from the line of drool. If he hadn’t smelled like a corpse before, he did now. Normally, it took a lot for Pax to be grossed out. All he wanted to do was wipe off his face. Considering the rest of him was covered in the same gooey substance, that would do little good.

“Good boy? Boys?” Pax said uncertainly. He slowly set the sword onto the ground, calming the growls of the other two heads.

“Ajax..?” Alabaster’s voice hovered behind him. The relief in Alabaster’s tone made Pax want to hug the Witch Boy. It showed potential for Alabaster to look at him as more than a meat shield. Then again, this relief could come from Pax being a highly successful meat shield—a reusable one.

When the friendly head lowered back towards Pax, Pax hesitantly reached a hand behind the dog’s ear. The dog made a face like it needed to sneeze. But, in good news, it didn’t rip his arm off. He reached up both hands two hands to rub behind the ears, realizing one might feel more like a flea.

“Lou Ellen, stop!” Alabaster scolded.

Lou Ellen giggled, rushing over to Pax’s side. She joined in the petting.

Cerberus’s tail thudded the ground again, sending up little clouds of black dust.

The middle head looked like it wanted to investigate Lou Ellen for more sausages. The furthest glared jealously at the pets.

“Such a good boy!” Lou Ellen cooed.

Alabaster made a sound of annoyance.

Lou Ellen waved him off. “Could you take us to our friends?” she asked, “Would you be a good boy and do that?”

Pax perked up at the idea. He put himself right under the friendly head’s snout. “One smells kind of like me,” he said.

“If Axel was the one that stabbed him, is that such a good idea?” Alabaster asked. Pax suspected Alabaster was preparing a spell to make dogs vomit demigods. He had so little faith in them.

“Axel did not stab him,” Pax said to Alabaster. He turned his attention back to Cerberus. There was a mini-dust storm from all the tail thumping. “How ‘bout it? Take me to my brother?”

“Ajax, what makes you think it can understand you?”

Pax could tell Alabaster had folded his arms by the skepticism in his voice.

As though enjoying the challenge, Cerberus answered on his own. The friendly head leaned down to lift Pax up by his belt. The middle head got Lou Ellen. The angry one snapped up Alabaster by the nap of his shirt.

Cerberus, tail wagging cheerfully behind him, began to trot down along the River Styx.

So close to Cerberus’ mouth, all three of them gagged.

“Can we please at least ride on your back!?” Alabaster shrieked.

***

They didn’t need to ride for long, which was fortunate: Alabaster sounded ready to behead at least one of Cerberus’ heads when the dog stopped.

In retrospect, they didn’t need Cerberus to sniff out Axel. All they needed to do was follow the riverbank. Regardless, Pax was pleased they would arrive in style. And that Cerberus had a scent to follow. Part of Pax was terrified of what Alabaster would do to him and Lou Ellen if they got into the Underworld and found out that Luke, Axel, and Jack were already topside, celebrating a successful quest. Pax suspected that Alabaster wouldn’t pick weasel transformation as the punishment for having them unnecessarily picnic to Hades.

He heard their friends before they saw them. The frantic trill of Jack’s angelic song was eerie in the black cavern, bouncing haphazardly off the stalactites and stalagmites, making it sound like a choir of dead church children.

That type of singing was a bad sign. While Jack loved to hum aimlessly, that type of panicked song meant someone was hurt.

When Pax saw the three figures—definitely too lively to be undead unless the Z or T virus was about to break out in the Underworld (something Pax would both pay to see and not to be part of)—Pax’s hopes sank.

Jack’s red hair spiked like a flare in the gloominess. Axel’s height was the next obvious silhouette.

Once they got close enough to see that Axel had withdrawn a sword at their approach, Pax noticed there weren’t three people here, but four. Luke was a crumpled heap in one of Axel’s arms.

Standing alongside their friends was an Ancient Greek dude that Pax had never seen before. This fourth guy was, in fact, a ghost, making Pax reconsider the stereotypes against ghosts.

Axel’s muscles relaxed when Pax yipped, “Axel!”

Pax meant to wait and let Alabaster lessen the blow for them. Until he saw Axel here, Pax hadn’t considered the asswhipping he was going to get once they got topside.

Cerberus stopped three yards away, growling deeply.

That’s when Pax remembered that, presumably, one of their friends had stabbed Cerberus’ paw. Pax crawled further up Cerberus’ neck to pet behind his hear and keep him calm. “It’s okay! Good boy! Nice boy! Thank-you-for-not-eating-us boy! You can let us down now, boy.”

Lou Ellen must have been doing some similar cooing. Either Cerberus respected that Pax had helped him and really liked their pets, or he didn’t want to risk another stabbing. The Rottweiler let Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Pax jump off, gave one last snarl towards their friends—which sent Jack squealing—and dashed back upriver.

Worry and anger flashed over Axel’s face upon recognizing Pax. Despite the chill of the Underworld, sweat soaked his shirt. His sword arm shook. The skin there was pink like he’d just withdrawn it from a vat of acid. Whatever scolding Axel might be preparing shattered when he saw Alabaster. Axel’s golden eyes softened with relief.

“You brought Alabaster,” he said, shoving the sword back into its sheath.

“I assure you, Pax and Lou Ellen had no intentions of being helpful,” Alabaster said. “What happened here?” His emerald gaze flicked suspiciously to the ghost.

“Luke is hurt!” Jack cried. Without the echo of Jack’s eerie singing or the low thrum of Cerberus, the Underworld felt quiet, their sentences uncomfortable punctures in a natural silence.

Axel must have felt this too. His muscles tensed. He lifted Luke’s limp body for Alabaster to examine.

Pax swallowed. Luke looked like a new born baby or a cartoon piglet. His skin was pink, similar to Axel’s, except it looked way worse, because—you know—pasty white people. Jack would have slapped Pax upside the head for that one. Flynn would have agreed.

“He lost sight of what kept him mortal, so the River Styx started to burn him to ashes,” said the helpful, mysterious ghost, “I told him not to bear my curse.”

“Achilles,” Alabaster said, nodding his head absently towards the spirit. He withdrew some latex gloves from a pouch along his waist and reached to lift Luke’s arm. “He looks pretty good for the River Styx trying to burn him.”

Pax thought it was both terrifying and cute that Alabaster’s cold, scientific curiosity was triggered by their wrinkly friend. Pax and Lou Ellen fell silent on either side of him, staring in confusion at Luke’s marred skin. Mercedes would have scolded Pax for the awful job he’d done gathering information to hunt Axel down. All he knew was that Luke wanted to bath in the River Styx to become shiny or something. He didn’t understand the ghost’s presence or how skinnydipping could hurt someone.

“He didn’t look like this a minute ago,” Axel said, clenching his jaw.

Jack tugged at his hair. “I had to sing him back together! Alabaster, what went wrong!? And why isn’t he getting better?! I healed him—I—I made all the blisters go away—and his skin regrow—”

Achilles shook his head. “I told you. His anchor wasn’t strong enough. I warned him—”

“What does that mean?!” Axel demanded of the ghost. “And how do we fix him?”

Luke’s breath came in shallow, sharp gasps. Shivers wracked his limbs. His eyes would open partially to reveal lazily listing whites. Similar to Axel, his body was soaked in sweat or—or likely River Styx water. Pax saw how polluted that thing was. Axel and Luke were likely to sprout even more super-human powers. Either that or become villains. It’s what happened when you swam with three-eyed fish.

A pang of terror ran through Pax when he realized Axel must have reached into this acid-water to drag Luke out.

“He’s in shock,” Alabaster said. He frowned, turning Luke’s hand over. The witch boy fished along his belt. Pax expected him to withdraw some ambrosia or some other healing substance.

Instead, Alabaster withdrew a scalpel and stabbed Luke’s palm. That, Pax had to admit, was not in his Traditional Methods on How to Heal.

Axel flinched and dragged Luke back.

Jack shrieked, lunging to put himself between Alabaster and Luke.

“What the Hades?!” Axel snapped.

“Torrington!” Jack cried, sounding near actual tears. Probably because Jack knew he couldn’t beat someone as terrifying as Alabaster. Pax loved his surrogate father, but, uh, Alabaster could kick his ass.

“The curse took successfully,” Alabaster said calmly.

He rubbed the scalpel onto his sleeve before putting it away.

When Pax squinted at Luke’s limp hand, he saw what Alabaster meant. There was no blood. There wasn’t a mark at all, even though Alabaster had put enough force to cut open a hell hound.

The River Styx didn’t just make people shiny, Pax realized in awe. It made them invulnerable. Or maybe invulnerability was the original myth…. Pax was bad with myths.

“You had to fish him out,” Lou Ellen said, pointing at Axel’s arm. “Like Achilles’ mom did for him.”

Alabaster brushed off Jack’s whines and panic. “It was more time efficient to stab him than explain I was going to stab him and have you protest.” Alabaster shifted his gaze to his half-sister. “Now, Lou Ellen, astute observation. Axel had to pull him out and Jack had to sing Luke back together, which means the River Styx should have killed him and it means he was in immense, horrific pain when you pulled him out. Jack healed him physically, but…”

“He’s still in shock,” Lou Ellen cheered like she’d gotten the right answer on a test. When Axel and Jack gave her bewildered glances, she dropped her eyes to the black sand. “Sorry, got excited,” she said.

Pax reached around Alabaster to pat Lou Ellen’s shoulder. He understood how exciting it was to meet Alabaster’s impossible expectations. “Can shock kill someone?” Pax asked, unsure why everyone was freaking out. Luke was out of the water, right?

Jack paled. His fingers clutched at Luke’s soaked shirt. He squeaked when his fingers came back blistered. “Circulatory shock—he’s not getting enough blood—oxygen! That explains the weak pulse, the cold hands and feet, the—the—”

The stutter broke into a song. Jack hovered his hands on either side of Luke’s sweaty, pale face. Luke’s shallow, rapid breath mixed with the fluttery, echoing words. “This is where the healing begins, oh, this is where the healing starts. When you come to where you’re broken within. The light meets the dark—”

His frantic, bright eyes flicked desperately to Axel and Alabaster, as though to communicate a message.

“But he’s supposed to be invulnerable,” Pax said, feeling small. At the sight of Jack’s renewed panic, he felt some of his own, contagious like a yawn.[1]

“My curse makes one’s battle prowess beyond that of any mortal and will make one physically strong,” the ghost in ancient armor said, “However, it heightens all of one’s weaknesses. I know not of this circulatory shock, but—”

Alabaster snorted, looking both scornful and bitter. “He was too weak-willed to handle this and the curse only intensified his weakness. We need to get him to the River Lethe.”

Axel looked as confused as Pax felt. It took Pax a moment to realize Axel’s skin must be burning everywhere he touched Luke. Axel’s jaw clenched against it. “But—he’s not in the river anymore—”

Alabaster motioned them away from the River Styx. “You’re talking about someone prone to vicious nightmares. Either his nerves are fried and he’s still in all of that pain, or he passed out and is stuck reliving the nightmare of it. Either way, his body is trying to give up and all that’s kept him alive is Jack’s singing. Unless any of you have morphine..?”

Alabaster held the word in the air, like he genuinely expected someone to lift the drug.

Axel scowled at him. He hated it when people insulated that he or Pax might have access to illegal drugs. Alabaster didn’t know why and likely meant nothing by it, but Pax could feel Axel tense in offense despite the circumstances. Pax could see the resemblance between Axel and their real father in the way Axel went still with rage.

“No?” Alabaster surmised. “Very well. Then let’s get to the River Lethe. If we do a quick splash, it’ll hopefully erase just enough to make him forget the pain without forgetting who he is—”

“His healing pow’r this very hour—Hopefully?!” Jack said between verses, “Shall give new life to thee!”

“Unless you have a better idea?” Alabaster said. His emerald gaze flicked to the ghost.

Achilles shook his head. “This lack of mental fortitude is beyond my knowledge.”

Pax was pretty sure this famous hero just called Luke a bitch.

“There’s no other option then. Let’s go,” Axel said. He grunted and lifted Luke over his shoulders in a fireman carry.

Pax wanted Axel to put a fire blanket between his body and Luke’s, or like, turn Luke into a bubble boy with a full hamster ball that they could push to the River Lethe, but Pax figured they didn’t have time for that.

When he heard someone shout behind them, he realized they had no time at all.

“There they are!”

The shout belonged to a demented grandmother with wings and a fiery whip. She looked like something out of the weirdest porn links that Matthias had dared he open, thinking Pax wouldn’t take the challenge. He wished he hadn’t. It haunted his nightmares for weeks.

Their pursuers were a soccer field away. Two more of those winged, leathery grandmothers flanked the first. Behind these scouts, a chariot rolled across the black sand.

Pax felt his skin go cold. There was a small army of ghouls behind that chariot.

Alabaster released a string of curses. Lou Ellen paled. Jack’s voice cracked in panic. Axel went to withdraw his sword again.

“No, you idiot,” Alabaster growled. “The pit to Tartarus isn’t that far. We’ll be safer with my siblings down there.”

Axel shoved Luke’s limp body into Alabaster’s arms. Fortunately, with the latex gloves, long sleeves, and whatever barrier Alabaster had put between himself and the earlier sausages, the residual Styx water didn’t seem to bother Alabaster.

“They’ll overtake us,” Axel said. Once Luke was with Alabaster, he gave the Witch Boy a harsh shove down shore.

Alabaster’s jaw dropped, in offense or disbelief, Pax wasn’t sure.

Jack’s lips quivered. He stopped singing for a moment. “Axel..?”

“Even with Lou Ellen here, you can’t create a Mist shield that could hide all of us without them seeing someone was here,” Axel said. “If they’re looking for someone, they’ll see through your Mist shield. Mist cracks under scrutiny. If they’re distracted because there is someone in front of them, you can sneak off. You’ll need you and Lou Ellen to keep the Mist shield up and Jack to keep Luke alive. Keep Ajax safe.”

Pax shook violently. What was Axel saying?

“You stubborn, stupid, arrogant—” Alabaster seethed.

“Each insult is costing you a second that could be taking your to Tartarus,” Axel said. That voice was too calm, too accepting, too final. “Go.”

Axel ruffled Pax’s hair with a forced, calming smile.

When Pax glanced back up the shore, he saw why.

That chariot radiated power. It wasn’t just a platoon of level-one fodder. That was a boss fight. An Underworld boss fight. One Pax was sure Axel wasn’t a high enough level to win.

Not that anything could beat up Axel, Pax assured himself. It just didn’t follow a proper storyline. They hadn’t been at this war long enough. Not enough people knew how awesome Axel and his clever shirts were. He hadn’t even had a proper girlfriend yet, and Pax would be damned if he let anything happen to Axel before he got a proper girlfriend. Would he already be damned if they were in the Under—

Focus, he told himself as Axel shoved Pax to Lou Ellen. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” Axel said.

Pax’s heart choked in his throat when Lou Ellen’s hands caught him. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t about to let this happen.

“Fine!” Alabaster spit. “Get yourself killed.”

The Witch Boy chanted in Latin, either casting a massive invisibility spell, or something to crack Axel’s will. Lou Ellen jumped into the chant, making Pax think it was an invisibility spell, since he doubted the children of Hecate had been practicing to subdue Pax boys in rhythmic harmony.

Like earlier that day, sparks sputtered near Lou Ellen. She must have been nervous or at least upset at the concept of leaving Axel. Her voice broke once. At least the Mist shield wasn’t blinking like it had been.

Now, at least, Pax knew one of Alabaster’s secrets for sure: he actually liked the Pax brothers. Either that, or they were too good a lab specimen to waste.

“Oh God,” Jack whispered in horror. “We’re really doing this. B—”

“Go!” Axel growled, his voice getting impatient. He took several steps away from the invisibility shield.

Pax wanted to think everyone was weeping at the sight of this beautiful hero, but he couldn’t tell. Everyone had vanished. The only part that looked odd was the occasional spark drifting down from above his head.

Vaguely, Pax wondered how Jack was going to keep singing to heal Luke. Maybe Alabaster could maintain silence and invisibility at the same time?

“Come on, Ajax,” Lou Ellen said. Her voice cracked again.

Pax wasn’t going to wait to see how they planned to save Luke without Jack’s singing. He felt her hand and jammed his thumb into the pressure point in Lou Ellen’s forearm. He figured, if he couldn’t see any of them, they couldn’t see him. That meant, if he ran far enough from their group—

“Ajax!” Alabaster’s voice hissed.

Okay, so maybe they could guess that he had run from Lou Ellen’s squeak of pain.

By then, Axel was a few yards away and the furies were fast approaching, the chariot and army not far behind.

Axel’s tufted ears twitched at Pax’s approach. Maybe it was the fact that the sand still shifted under Pax’s invisible feet. Maybe it was the fact that Pax smelled amazing or that Axel could usually see through the Mist. Whatever it was, Pax could see the instant Axel realized Pax had broken away from Alabaster, Lou Ellen, Jack, and Luke. It almost looked like Axel’s courage faltered.

But neither of them could turn back now. Hades, Lord of the Underworld, was already descending upon them with his army.

***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D You’re about to hit the reason why this short story exists, and it is for a very stupid reason. Stay tuned next week to see Hades’ hospitality with our Pax boys!

I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!

[1] I yawned every fucking time I edited this paragraph, which, unfortunately, had a lot of mistakes.

#PJO #HOO #TFMO #Tales from Mount Othrys #Fidget Spinners #Axel #Pax #Luke #Lou Ellen #blackjack #fanfiction #The next chapter was so much fun to write #The Pax boys=wonderful idiots #Hades is even dumber #I hope you guys end up liking it #I also hope you guys are staying safe!#My cat is in love with out housemate so she's thrilled about him being stuck at home #She follows him around screaming #He's threatened to kill her many a time

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eeyore101247 · 5 years

Text

His Love Chapter 1

Warnings: Violence and mentions of illegal activities.Ya know, mob stuff

2,067 words

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

| Next ->

Knock knock knock.

Tom scowled as he looked towards the door of his office. He had told Harrison and his men not to bother him until later that day - he had a lot of paperwork and last minute planning to finish. He watched as Tessa's ears perked up when the person knocked again. He sighed, setting down his pen and turning his attention back to his office door.

"Come in." He said, his tone laced with his irritation. The door slowly opened, revealing his best mate Harrison. He visibly relaxed, his irritation fading away as he looked at him. "What's up mate?"

"Hey, thought I would come see how you're doing. You've been hiding away in your office since breakfast."

Harrison walked over to Tom's desk, sitting down in the chair in front of it. He kicked his feet up on the desk, earning a glare from Tom. If it was one of his other men, he would have had their head by now, but it was Haz. His best mate and right hand man.

“I’m fine.” He said, continuing to glare at Harrison until he removed his feet from his desk. Once they were off, he turned back to the papers spread across it, picking his pen back up and letting out a sigh. “Tonight’s going to be risky. You ready for it?”

Harrison nodded, a smirk on his face. “More than ready. It’s time we teach those dumbasses a lesson for creeping into our territory.”

Tom’s smirk returned, and he pushed the finished pile of paperwork aside.

“Well, let’s run over the plan once more, shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tom cracked his knuckles as he stood outside the cell, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders back. His men had finally caught the little weasel who was shorting Tom a couple thousand dollars, after Tom had generously agreed to help him and his family find a home during desperate times. But when Tom had sent his men for collection of his debt a few hours ago, the weasel turned tail and ran.

With a push of the door, he stepped inside, face cold and emotionless as he stared down at the man tied to the chair. His black hair was a mess, his shirt and shorts muddy from hiding in the dirt. Tom didn’t even blink as he walked up to the man, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up. His emerald eyes shone with fear, lower lip trembling as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Look, look…. I-I-I’m sorry Mr. Holland, but I just don’t have the money yet! Please! Please just give me another month a-and I’ll have it for you! I promise!” The man begged, his tone desperate as he stared up at Tom. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, arms straining against the rope. “Please, I’m begging you.”

Tom’s lips turned up into a sadistic smirk, letting go of the man’s chin. He turned his back on him, walking over to the table covered in various weapons. His fingers brushed across a pair of brass knuckles, debating whether to use them or just use his bare hands.

“I’m sorry, John. But we had a deal. And I never break a deal.” Tom said, his voice dripping with ice as he slipped the brass knuckles on his right hand. He turned back around, moving over to John, fingers curling into a fist.

“I don’t give second chances.”

The bare knuckles of Tom’s left hand met flesh as he punched John in the jaw, the satisfying feel of adrenaline pumping through his veins. He brought his other fist down, hitting the other side of John’s jaw with the brass knuckles.

John grunted, nose scrunching up in pain as he turned his attention back to Tom. Tom could see the pleading look he gave him, but it wasn’t going to change his mind.

“But… but what about that information I found out for you! About that… that other mob! Ya know! The, um… the, uh…” John stuttered over his words, lips trembling as he tried to remember their name. Tom didn’t give him time to speak another word, his fist meeting the side of John’s face once more.

“I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to get my money back.” Tom grunted, his voice monotone. “Don’t think I haven’t seen what you’ve been up to. All the cocaine and heroine you buy behind your family’s back...you didn’t spend all of my money, did you?”

Tom’s other fist met the side of his face, the satisfying crunch of John’s breaking nose under the brass knuckles echoing through the cell. Tom bit back the grin that tugged at his lips, keeping his composure as he stared down at John. Blood dribbled down John’s lip, and Tom clenched his jaw as he slammed his fist across the side of John’s face once more for good measure.

“I want a list of every guy you’ve bought from in the past three months since I loaned you the money to house your family.” Tom said as he turned away, slipping the brass knuckles off and handing them to one of his men. He leaned in, whispering in his ear. “Fact check every one of the names with the list we have. Every false name, pull out a fingernail and make him suffer.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tom’s fist hit the desk as his anger threatened to boil over. One of his men had messed up a drug deal and now Tom has to pay for it.

“What do you mean, Brian? We had agreed on the price and you let him get away with giving you laundered money!” Tom yelled, his jaw clenching as he glared at the man in front of him. Brian’s brow was lined with sweat, his hands shaking at his sides as he looked back at Tom.

“I-it looked so real boss. I… We didn’t know it was fake until we got back.” He said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. He tried to keep his composure, but his fear was slipping through the cracks. Tom snarled as he shoved papers off his desk, turning his back to the goon and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You have 12 hours to find him, kill him, and get my merchandise back before I kill you myself.” Tom hissed, nostrils flaring as he let out a breath.

“Y-Yes sir!” Brian stuttered, quickly making his way out of the office and shutting the door behind him. Tom huffed as he turned back around, slowly sitting down in his chair as he looked at the papers on the floor. Tessa looked at him from her spot on the bed, ears perked and squeaky toy in her muzzle.

“C’mere Tess.” He said softly, letting out a sigh as Tessa trotted over to him. His blood was still boiling over Brian’s stupid mistake, but he needed to clear his head and get ready for the night ahead.

“Hey girl.” He cooed as she laid her head in his lap, her eyes filled with adoration as she looked up at her owner. He gently scratched behind her ears, a smile tugging at his lips as she started to lick at his arm. “You’re such a good girl Tess.”

She let out a small yip in response, tail wagging as Tom continued to shower her in affection. He pulled open one of his desk drawers, producing a doggie treat out of the small container he kept in there. He gave it to her, Tessa gently taking it out of his hand before making her way back over to her bed, laying down and happily munching on her treat.

“Come in.” He sighed as a knock was heard on his door, turning his attention towards it. One of his men slowly stepped inside, dressed down in normal civilian clothing, slipping his hands in his pockets. His piercing green eyes stared back at Tom, his stance relaxed as he stood there.

“She called and wants me to come over early, so I’m headed out.” Garrett said, his face blank and emotionless as he stared at Tom. Tom gave a small nod, crossing his legs under the desk and leaning back.

“Make sure she stays safe. I don’t need her getting hurt tonight, of all nights.” He said in reply, his gaze cold as he watched the man standing at his door. Garret gave a nod before he turned around, shutting the door behind him. Tom let out a sigh as he looked down at his wrist.

(Your initials)

Tom smiled as he looked at her initials, his heart fluttering at the thought of her. He had been keeping an eye on his soulmate for the past year, but he never knew when the right time to step into her life was. He had always been in the background, keeping an eye on her when he could. He had learned so much about her through Garret as he played the part of her dog sitter.

He wasn’t even sure when he had completely fallen head over heels in love, but he had. He hasn’t even met her in person yet, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Maybe it was because of how perfect she was for him or how gorgeous she was in the pictures he had seen. Maybe it was her immense love for animals and her fierce desire to help pets in shelters. He didn’t know, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either. All he knew was that he needed to see her as soon as their plan tonight was finished.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door, his gaze lifting from his desk.

“What is it?” He asked, his voice cold as he stared at the door. Harrison peeked in, an excited smile on his face.

“We’ve got the debriefing meeting in a few minutes. I was coming to get ya mate.” Harrison said as he pushed the door open a bit more. Tom nodded as he stood up, straightening out his dress shirt before walking towards the door.

“Let’s get this started.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to the guest room swung open, Tom’s face red with anger as he saw the girl curled up on the bed. He could tell just from glancing at her that she was in pain, her muscles stiff as she huddled underneath the covers. As he walked in, Tom narrowed his eyes at the men in the room, clearly furious. Harrison was stood by the bed, hands in his pockets as he waited for Tom to arrive.

“Why wasn’t I informed that Y/N worked at that specific bar?” He growled, turning his attention to Garret. Garret looked back, locking eyes with the mob boss.

“She never told me where she worked, sir.” Garret replied, voice even and emotionless. Tom scowled, making his way over to the bed. His gaze softened as his eyes scanned over the woman lying there before him. His heartbeat quickened, butterflies filling his stomach as he took in her beauty. This was the first time he had gotten to see his soulmate in person, and it definitelyit wasn’t the meeting he had hoped for.

His jaw tensed as he swiveled around, glaring icily at David. “Why did you think it was a good idea to hit her?”

David shifted nervously, fiddling with the edges of his jacket. “I… I didn’t know she was your soulmate, sir! She was in the way and you said no civilian casualties.”

Tom clenched his fist, striding over to David and stopping in front of him. “So you decided to just knock her out - instead of just pushing her out of the way.” He hissed. “Now you’ve made this much more complicated than it had to be.”

David stuttered through his apologies, Tom staring him down as he did. Barely a moment passed before Tom’s fist met David’s jaw, not even flinching at the pain that radiated through his bruised knuckles. David let out a weak whimper, but he stayed still, staring at the floor in front of him. Satisfied, Tom cleared his throat, turning to Harrison.

“Call a doctor to come check on her tomorrow.” He said, voice cold and emotionless as he walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

#His Love Her Curse #tom holland fanfiction #mob!tom holland #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom x Y/N #mob!tom x you #mob!au #Mob!Tom #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland series #thomas stanley holland #soulmate au

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quickeningheart · 4 years

Text

Twenty-Three

“So … lemme get this straight.” Alley sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, lips pursed, arms crossed, one foot tapping against the cabinet door below her as she stared Stoker down. “You want me to march into that snake pit completely unarmed, all by my lonesome, and hand him a bunch of fake plans. And then expect me to waltz on out again with all of my body parts still intact?”

“You don't have to waltz. Walking's just fine,” Stoker teased, chuckling at her dirty look. “You won’t be by yourself,” he added patiently. “Charley’ll bug you. I’ll be listenin’ in, and if anything goes wrong, I’ll go straight in and bust you out of there.”

“How come we don’t get to go in and bust her out?” Vinnie whined.

“Because I’d like to get her out with all her body parts still intact,” he deadpanned. “I doubt that’ll happen if I let you three anywhere near the tower.”

Alley huffed an exasperated sigh. “I don’t see what could possibly go wrong with this idea,” she exclaimed sarcastically. “Except for … well, everything.”

Stoker chuckled. “You’ll be fine, honey.”

“How do you know he’ll even do what he says and sort my records out?” she complained. “What if I give him these plans and he just turns around and shoots me on the spot?”

“Ain’t his style. He’ll do what he says, ‘cause I’m guessin’ he might be keepin’ you in his sights. If he thinks you pulled this off, he might consider makin’ you a permanent mole an’ have you do other jobs for him in the future.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh, swell. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life being blackmailed by this jackass?”

“Nah.” Stoker waved off her concern. “He might proposition a legitimate job. I’m sure he’ll make offers you can’t refuse.”

Modo released a derisive snort. “Ol’ Lard Butt does have a pretty way with words when he wants somethin’,” the big mouse grumbled, fingering his bionic arm and earning a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Charley.

Alley pursed her lips, recalling the conversation in the limo. “He did try pretty hard to convince me how rich and influential he is,” she muttered.

“There. You see?”

“But I am not going to be his mole.”

“Aw, why not?” Charley teased. “Sounds like a fun time. Hey, you could act as a double agent!”

“Yeah, our own, personal James Bomb,” Throttle put in, grinning.

Alley clapped her hands, face brightening. “Hey! You know what would also be fun? Dunking me in a bucket of chum and tossing me into a tank of hungry sharks!”

“Awwoooo! Now you’re speakin’ my language!” Vinnie exclaimed, giving her a hearty clap on the back that sent her straight off the counter and onto the floor with a startled yelp. “Eh … whoops.” He offered a sheepish grin, using his tail to pick her up. “Dunno my own strength.”

Alley just glared, limping to a safer corner of the kitchen.

“So? Will you do it?” Stoker asked, catching her hand as she passed and smiling up at her. “Think of it this way. Not only will you help save your own planet, you’ll also help finally put an end to the decades-long war on Mars. You’ll be a hero.”

“I don’t want to be a hero,” she grumbled, fidgeting. “Besides, even if this does work, as soon as Limburger figures out the plans aren’t real, what’s to stop him from trying to pull the same crap all over again? Or come up with some new way to ruin my life?”

“Because he’d know then that even blackmail won’t make you turn against your friends and family,” Charley replied firmly. “He’s not one to waste time and money on a scheme that he doesn’t believe is a hundred percent foolproof.” She stopped to consider, smirking. “Even if he does turn out to be wrong a hundred percent of the time, thanks to my boys here.”

There were cheers and the clinking of root beer bottles all around. Alley proceeded to look unimpressed.

“And if it makes you feel better, the plans you’ll be handing over won’t be fake anyway,” Stoker said, grinning slyly.

She blinked at him. “What, I’m gonna give him the real thing?”

“Well … sort of.” He tapped the pages on the table. “I’ll be making a few … tweaks to these, and handing over the new set. All it takes is a minor change here and there, and my Regenerator can be turned into something else entirely. If the Plutarkians succeed in building it, it won’t create. It will destroy.” His smile was grim and hard. “It’ll have the power to set off a chain reaction that could cripple their entire planet, and hopefully turn the tide of this war, possibly end it for good.”

“You’ll do to them what they did to Mars,” Throttle guessed.

He nodded. “That’s the idea. If it works. There’s a chance they’ll actually study the plans closely enough to figure out the discrepancies and realize they’ve been altered, but my hopes are the Plutarkians are desperate enough for resources that they’ll cobble something together in haste and test it without double-checking.”

“What if they cobble and test without double-checking here?” Alley asked.

Stoker hesitated, frowning. “Hmmm. Suppose that’s always a possibility,” he muttered, scratching his chin. “His pet mad scientist probably wouldn’t be able to resist tinkering around with the plans…” He leaned back with a shrug, linking his hands behind his head. “Guess you’ll just have to convince Limburger that it’d be more beneficial for him to take it straight to Plutark.”

“Oh, sure! Piece of cake!” Alley threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “How am I supposed to do that? I don’t know anything about anything about these guys!”

“From what I know of them, getting promoted is a definite life goal,” Charley said thoughtfully. “The higher up the ladder, the better, and they’ll step all over each other to get there.” She nodded at the plans. “A tinker toy like this would probably earn Limburger a boot straight up to the top rung and all the benefits that come with it. All you gotta do is drop a hint here and there… He’ll be all over that bait like stink on a dung heap.”

Alley slumped. “What happened to just handing him the plans and walking out?”

“So, there’ll be a little negotiating in between,” Stoker teased, waggling his hand in a so-so gesture.

She huffed a sigh, raising her hands in defeat. “Well, seems like it’s all been decided,” she grumbled. “Just point me in the direction of the firing squad, and we’re good to go.”

~*~*~*~*~

Three hours later, Alley couldn’t help thinking she’d have been better off facing a firing squad. “I still fail to see,” she called over the roar of Stoker’s motorcycle, “how you talked me into getting onto this thing. It did try to kill me, you know!”

He turned to her with a grin, plopping a spare helmet over her head. She recognized it as the one she’d worn when Throttle had taken her out, and a twinge of guilt shot through her. She shoved it aside, annoyed with herself. After all, it wasn’t like she and Throttle were dating or anything. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her for most of the day. She felt just a little peeved about that. What happened between them had been just as much his fault as hers, she thought grouchily. Why was he even mad about it, anyway?

A husky chuckle piped into her ear, distracting her. “My girl here didn’t try to kill you.” Stoker sounded far too innocent. “She was just playin’, that's all.”

Alley rapped on the back of his helmet with her knuckles. “Do I look that gullible to you?”

Another laugh answered her. “She’ll behave herself, I promise. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” His bionic tail coiled around her waist. It was surprisingly warm, but a lot harder than Throttle’s tail had been, the metal links pressing uncomfortably into her sides.

She shifted. “Don’t hold on so tight. You’re gonna suffocate me,” she complained.

“Sorry, honey. Hard to tell sometimes.” The links loosened a bit. “Better?”

“Yeah.” She moved closer, slipping her arms around his chest as he roared out of the garage. “So, explain again exactly how taking a ride with you fits in with the plan?”

“Your original job was to weasel information outta me without my knowledge, right?” he reminded her. “Turn my head with your ‘feminine wiles’?”

“I guess…” she muttered, wishing she’d kept that part of Limburger’s harebrained scheme a secret. It had been embarrassing enough to admit it, especially with all the guys sitting right there, looking way too amused by the idea. And of course Stoker wasn’t about to let it go.

“Well, it’d look pretty suspicious if you showed up at the tower with all the info he’s lookin’ for just like that,” he continued. “We need to take our time. I figure if we want to pull this off, we’d better give Limburger a show. He’s probably keepin’ tabs on us both. He sees you ridin’ around with me, he’ll be more likely to take you at your word when you finally show up and hand over the plans.”

She harrumphed. “You sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to get me alone with you?” she accused.

He chortled, clearly amused. “Well … there is that,” came the sly response, and she retaliated with a hard pinch to his ribcage and a yank on his fur that made him yelp and jump in surprise. His torso shook as he laughed. “Best we save that kind of play for later,” he teased, far too amused for her liking. “This is only the first date.”

Alley groaned and thumped her head against his back.

~*~*~*~*~

They rode around the city for two hours, indulging in the age-old tradition of sightseeing, and Alley had to admit it was kind of enjoyable. She hadn’t really had a chance to explore downtown Chicago, and at night the view was exceptional, with everything lit up and glowing like a fairyland. Stoker seemed to know exactly where he was going, and she wondered how often he had been through the city to be able to navigate so easily. He drove slowly, giving her ample time to look, and eventually parked the bike, where they continued on foot.

He led her on a walk through the streets, along the waterfront, and through a number of parks, waiting patiently whenever she paused at points of interest to snap pictures with her phone. They eventually reached a large lake with a well-lit, cobblestone path. Ordering her to take a rest, he headed for a nearby street vendor to order her a soft pretzel. The vendor did a triple-take at first sight of the large, talking mouse, but otherwise didn’t react as he intoned the amount owed and handed over the food.

Alley mumbled a thank you when Stoker sat on the wooden bench beside her and handed over the pretzel. She watched the vendor watch them, casting furtive glances in their direction as he turned hotdogs on a spit. “I can’t believe he's not reacting,” she whispered. “Did he not notice the mousy features and antenna?”

Stoker chuffed a short laugh. “Humans are funny that way. When confronted with the strange and unexpected, they tend to concoct rationalizations to explain it away. Maybe I’m from a late-night party or one of those costume conventions or somethin’.” He leaned in to snag a bite of her pretzel at the same moment she was about to take one, making her blink, her cheeks warming at his proximity. He winked as he sat back, chewing thoughtfully. "Of course," he continued after he'd swallowed, "pretty sure that guy’s one of Limbuger's spies."

Alley started. "How do you reckon that?"

He hummed. "Made brief contact when I paid him. Got a sense of unease but not a whole lotta shock. Also.” He tapped his nose. "Got a real faint whiff of Plutarkian, which means he’s been in touch recently.”

Alley shifted uneasily. “How recently?” she muttered, glancing around.

Stoker reached down to squeeze her hand resting on the bench between them, offering a reassuring smile. “Don't worry. It ain't that surprisin', really. Limbuger's probably got stool pigeons all over this city, keepin' an eye on things for 'im."

Alley's appetite was suddenly gone. She sighed, handing him the rest of the pretzel. "He’s that influential? How can people work for a guy like that? Don't they realize what he's trying to do?”

Stoker shrugged. “Money and blackmail will buy almost anyone. He's got a lot of influence in the upper-class.”

“And by upper-class, you mean the cops and stuff, right?”

“Sure. But not just them. Take a look. Downtown Chi Town. Gorgeous, right? But the further out you get, the worse it is. Goin' from glitz to condemned in just a few miles of pavement.”

“Yeah. And?”

He scratched his chin, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Well, if you think about it, the whole setup's a lot like one of those medieval kingdoms,” he explained. “All the wealth and power presides in the center of the kingdom, within the highest walls. The royalty, the aristocrats and lords … all of the ones who hold the power over everyone else all live there. Outside those walls is everyone else. The commoners who depend on the overlords for their livelihoods, who don't get much of a say in what goes on, or much knowledge that anything does go on. Even if their king is a black-hearted bastard that would sell out the entire kingdom to an enemy for a quick buck, they might not realize that until it's too late.”

Alley thought it over, nodding slowly. “That … makes a lot of sense,” she murmured. “And lemme guess. Limburger is the king of Chi Town?” She gazed at the towering skyscraper in the distance, with two large Ls emblazoned on the side. “And that's his castle.”

“Yep.” Stoker nodded, looking disgusted. “That ain't far off. To most of the city, he's a friggin' saint. Take a look at some o' those charity lists sometime. His name appears on almost all of 'em. But don't be fooled; they ain't donations, they're bribes, and they're what goes a long way to keepin' everyone with any influence under his thumb, and all his secrets safe.”

Alley eyeballed the vendor again, who continued to watch them discreetly even as he served up food to two more pedestrians. The more she found out about her foe, the more uneasy she became. “So, if he really has eyes and ears all over the place, how do we know he hasn’t already figured out this is just a setup?"

"We don't. But I figure since nobody's come roarin' up and opened fire on us yet, it’s safe to believe he still thinks you’re on his side. As long as we keep up the charade, of course."

She glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “And just how long are we supposed to keep up the charade? I mean, we drag this out too much and he's eventually gonna realize something’s up.”

“What, you’re not havin' fun? Guess I need to step up my game a bit. Gotta impress the lady,” he teased.

“…I kinda think you're missing my point.”

He chuckled, getting to his feet and offering a hand. She reached to take it, allowing him to pull her up and lead her further along the cobbled path surrounding the lake.

They approached a large gazebo that was strung with twinkling fairy lights. A number well-dressed couples were dancing inside, with more mingling on the lawn, talking and laughing with food and wine in hand. Most likely a late wedding reception, Alley mused, watching them. Her suspicions were confirmed a moment later when the crowd parted in the gazebo, and she caught a glimpse of white satin and lace. Strains of music reached her ears from the small orchestra playing on a makeshift bandstand, as a dark-haired man in a sleek black tuxedo crooned into a microphone.

“Care for a dance?” Stoker asked, nudging her.

She shot him a droll look and crossed her arms. “I dunno, Stoke. I don't usually make a habit of crashing other people's parties. It's generally considered impolite.”

“Aw, they won't even know we're here,” he scoffed, moving closer to the gazebo. She huffed and followed him off the lit path, into deeper shadows cast by the trees. His eyes gleamed as he smiled down at her. “Don't worry, honey. I promise not to complain when you step on my feet.”

“Uh, excuse me, sir, but I think it's your big clodhoppers we gotta be worryin' about,” she sniffed with a haughty toss of her hair.

He laughed. “Well, seems like there's only one way to solve this disagreement, eh?” He held out his hand in invitation, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

She hesitated, then rolled her eyes and accepted it. “Oh, why not? Lead the way, Astaire.”

“Who?”

An unexpected laugh bubbled out of her as he spun her into an easy dance, just as the band kicked into an upbeat version of Van Morrison's Moondance. “Fred Astaire is an old time actor. One of the greats. Not surprised you never heard of him, though. He never starred in a James Bomb movie,” she teased.

Stoker laughed and spun her out, then in again, catching her effortlessly. Alley had to admit that she was impressed. His dancing was definitely better than she'd expected, and so far her feet remained untrampled. She couldn't say that about the last guy she'd danced with. Chaz might've been handsome, but he'd been born with two left feet, which she'd discovered the hard way at her senior prom. “I’m amazed,” she commented as the song wound down and the next began. “Looks like you’re not just talk, after all.”

“Hush,” he scolded lightly, slowing their pace. “I’m tryin’ t’ listen.”

She tilted her head, realizing that the new song was a cover of Bon Jovi’s You Had Me from Hello. She closed her eyes and Stoker pulled her closer, and the dark-haired singer crooned into his microphone:

When we walk into a crowded room it's like we're all alone Everybody tries to kidnap your attention You just smile and steal the show

You come to me and take my hand We start dancin' slow You put your lips up to my ear and whisper way down low

From the first time I saw you it felt like coming home If I never told you I just want you to know You had me from hello

Alley had heard this song dozens of times, but had never paid such close attention to the lyrics before. The melody was lovely, the words soft, romantic, sensual… It was the perfect song for a pair of newlyweds. Or two would-be lovers dancing in the shadows.

Her heart kicked in her chest, and she was suddenly aware. Of his breath soft on her neck. Of his hands firm at her waist. Of her arms looped loosely around his shoulders, fingers buried in his soft mane, and bodies pressed so closely together that she could feel him breathing.

H-he isn't the one I should be doing this with, she realized, uneasy. She removed her arms and slowly stepped away, gaze lowered.

Stoker let her go, but she could feel his eyes on her; she knew that he'd sensed something, but to his credit, he didn't push the issue. “Um, w-we should probably get back to the garage soon,” she mumbled, unable to meet his knowing gaze. “I'm sure we gave Limburger enough eye candy for one night.”

“Sure, honey. Let's go home,” he replied easily.

When she chanced a peek at him, his expression was carefully neutral, but he reached out to snag her hand, threading their fingers together as they walked. His palm flush to hers was warm, a bit calloused, his grip firm and comforting. And she couldn't seem to make herself shake it off the entire walk back to the bike. She told herself it was strictly for appearance's sake, desperately ignoring the warm, fluttery butterflies swarming her belly.

She was afraid to admit that she knew better.

*You Had Me from Hello (c) Bon Jovi.

#Biker Mice from Mars #bikermice #bmfm fanfiction #date night! Sort've...

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