#i’m scared of being unable to meet the conditions necessary and so i don’t even try

[dundeelemonade]

cause like there’s something screwy with my brain or whatever that makes dying in a game scary, to the point that i can’t even proceed far enough in botw to figure out how to handle my first guardian, and i have a long list of games that i own and haven’t played more than an hour of because i just really don’t like dying! and i just want to know how get over that hurdle.

[morganaspendragonss]

just know that i will be with you

@911lonestarangstweek day 1 - c is for...crutches, cry, care

title from moon by jonah kagen

follow on to the meetings for those in my wake

ao3 | 1.5k | recovery, hurt tk, supportive carlos, brain damage

Carlos chews on his lip as he parks the Camaro outside the 126, glancing nervously over at TK. It’s been six months since the attack that almost took him away from them, three since TK was discharged from the hospital, and the first time either of them have been here during that time. Carlos had wanted to wait even longer, but TK had insisted, and it’s always been hard to refuse him anything.

It’s even harder now; coming within a hair’s breadth of losing him has only made Carlos more willing to give TK anything he needs. Even if that includes bringing him to the place his life had, metaphorically and almost literally, ended.

“I called ahead to tell your dad that we were coming,” he says softly, keeping his tone low so as not to startle TK. “He says the team are looking forward to seeing you.”

TK smiles at that, a little lopsided, breaking his gaze from the window to look at Carlos. It’s clear how excited he is; though the team have been visiting frequently both while TK was still in hospital and since he was discharged, Carlos knows TK has missed being at work and hanging with them at the station. It’s been an adjustment for sure, and it was hard for TK to accept that he’d never be able to return to his old job again. They’d had many a conversation about it, most of them ending with TK getting angry, then breaking down in tears in Carlos’s arms, his emotions harder to control since the incident.

Hopefully, when TK’s more independent, he’ll be able to find something to do, but for now he’s mostly stuck at home, and it’s been wearing on them both. Carlos is glad to get out, even if this is the last place he wants to bring TK.

“You ready?” he asks, smiling as TK nods enthusiastically. He quickly jogs out of the car and runs to the other side before TK gets any ideas about trying to get out himself—yet another ‘conversation’ they’ve had too many times—and grabs TK’s crutches from the back seat. If Carlos had his way, TK would still be using the wheelchair regularly, but on some things, it’s better to admit defeat than to push.

That doesn’t stop him from packing it in the trunk at all times, just in case.

TK scowls at the crutches but accepts them without complaint, slowly levering himself upright with Carlos’s help. He’s getting better at walking now, and Carlos can’t help but smile with pride as he remembers how hard TK has worked to get where they are.

It’s been a long, long road, and sometimes it’s felt never-ending. But seeing TK’s progress these past months, how much better he is compared to those first few days when there was still the fear that his body could give out at any moment… Well, Carlos considers it nothing short of a miracle.

Both the ambulance and the firetruck are parked in the bay when they enter the station and it doesn’t take too long for them to locate the team, all gathered around the kitchen counter. The new paramedic, Lukas, is there too—and this is one of the parts that Carlos had been worried about.

In truth, Lukas has been with the 126 for months, ever since it became clear that TK wouldn’t be able to come back even if he did pull through. He’s a good guy and fits in well, but he’s also TK’s replacement, so this meeting could go either way.

The team call out greetings as they approach and Lukas stands up, a wide grin on his lips. “TK, right?” he says, holding a hand out. “I’ve heard loads about you—man, I’m so sorry for what happened, really. It sucks.”

Carlos winces at the mention of the incident and watches TK carefully for his reaction. He stares in confusion at Lukas’s hand for a long moment before his brain seems to work out what he’s supposed to do. He takes his left hand out of the crutch, Carlos taking it and steadying him as he does so, and slowly shakes Lukas’s, eyeing him warily.

“H-Hi,” TK says eventually, Lukas’s good mood apparently infectious as he starts to smile. Carlos sighs in relief, then helps TK over to the counter and into a chair, fussing more than is probably necessary to make sure he’s comfortable. “Carlos, I’m fff-fine,” TK protests, though he’s grown more than used to Carlos’s protective behaviour by now.

Carlos just leans up to kiss TK’s forehead. “I know,” he whispers, stroking his cheek before sliding into the chair next to him. “I know you are.”

He’s pleasantly surprised by how smoothly things go from there. After all this time, the team are more than used to TK’s condition and Lukas learns quickly, adjusting his tone and mannerisms when he notices TK flinching at the louder noises and sudden movements. Seeing TK’s smile and his obvious happiness at being around the crew allows Carlos to relax too, and he finds himself pulled into a conversation with Paul and Marjan on the merits of chunky vs. smooth peanut butter.

Of course, things can never be simple for them. Carlos is about to suggest they get going—he’s noticed TK starting to flag, though he’s been making a valiant effort for the team’s sake—when the alarm starts blaring through the station and the crew jump into action.

It’s a scene TK has known his entire life, but the blows to the head he’d taken during the attack left him more sensitive to certain things, unable to process them as quickly as he used to. Judging by the panic that floods his face and the way he claps his hands to his ears, this is clearly one of them.

TK’s shock has him scrambling to get off his chair and out of the firehouse, but his diminished coordination and the fact that his hands are otherwise occupied send him pitching forward instead. Carlos is off his own seat in an instant, catching TK and holding him close to his chest, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

Lukas catches his eyes as he runs past and he pauses for a moment, eyeing TK. “He okay?” he asks worriedly, and Carlos nods.

“It’ll pass.”

And it does; five minutes later, after the engines have pulled out and the noise has died down, TK starts pressing on Carlos’s chest, a sure sign that he needs space. Carlos steps back willingly, though not before making sure TK is steady on his feet. A bright flush colours his cheeks and he won’t meet Carlos’s eyes, and Carlos knows what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

“I’m s-s—” TK frowns and breathes slowly, concentrating hard. Carlos stays silent, knowing that this is something TK needs to figure out himself. “I—”

He growls in frustration, his eyes welling with tears. For all the progress TK has made, his recovery hasn’t been linear, and after a scare like the alarm just now, it’s harder for him to connect his brain and his mouth. They’ve been trying to take this one step at a time, but it’s been hard for them both, and TK always feels like he’s failing whenever he struggles to get a word out or when his fingers fumble over an everyday task.

Carlos has tried to tell him that it’s okay, but his husband is so stubborn that sometimes it feels like a lost cause.

TK’s hands are clenched into fists so tight that his nails must be cutting into his palms, so Carlos steps forward and takes them in his own, telegraphing his movements clearly.

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, worming his fingers in between TK’s. “Don’t do that. You’ll get there, it’s okay.”

TK sniffs, still refusing to look at Carlos, and snatches one of his hands back to wipe roughly at his eyes. Too rough, but Carlos isn’t able to stop him before a bright red scratch appears under his left eye—whether it was deliberate or not, he can’t tell, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. Carlos catches his hand again and holds them tight, pulling TK into his side.

“Let’s go home, huh?” he says, knowing that more reassurances will likely lead to more resistance from TK.

Thankfully, TK nods, and he allows Carlos to support him as they walk out the station. He stares despondently out the window once he’s situated, but he looks over when Carlos gets in too, which feels like a win in itself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice clear, and Carlos can tell that the feat even makes TK a little happier.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Carlos says, leaning over to kiss him. “I’m proud of you.”

And, if TK’s bright grin is any indication, Carlos knows that he’s proud of himself too.

[all-things-mlqc]

I‘m not really far in the game but I know that every boy except Shaw, met MC/Us when they were younger. Do you think, they would‘ve love MC even if she wasn‘t this girl from their childhood and didn‘t have the Queen power? And btw what is even the queen power exactly. Like I said I‘m not far in the main story and I saw MC in a black dress etc

Hi there! I will do my best to explain my thoughts without mentioning any major spoilers for you since it’s always nice reading the plot for yourself! (I will be sure to give spoiler warnings before talking about it)

To start off, we should talk about the Queen’s power. It’s a bit confusing to us even to this day but what we can gather from what we have so far, game and anime wise, she has the ability to make other evolvers stronger. She’s somewhat of a battery or power source for all evolvers if that makes sense? Evolvers are still able to use their evols without her but she can “lend” people strength.

As for whether or not the boys would still lover her regardless of her evol, it’s hard to say for a few simply because her evol was the reason she met 2 out of the 4 of them. So if she didn’t have an evol, it’s likely she wouldn’t have met Kiro or Victor in the first place. But, hypothetically, let’s say that they did meet the same way and she did not have the Queen’s gene, then yes, I believe both Kiro and Victor would’ve still fallen in love with her.

Slight spoilers for Kiro’s past (how they met): Kiro and MC were both tested on as kids. Kiro is younger than MC and was frightened and confused at the time. He didn’t know much because he was so young when tested on by Black Swan. In fact, he 100% didn’t know MC had the Queen gene. He was simply way too young to understand or know that. He found a girl close to his age and wanted to get closer to her because she brought him comfort. It was the day he met her that he promised he would always protect her and he has continued to fulfill that promise. She was in a worse condition than he was when they were being tested on but still smiled and comforted him. With that being said, yes, it’s likely he would’ve still fallen in love with her because she brought him so much comfort and happiness during hard times regardless of her being the Queen.

Slight spoilers for Victor’s past (how they met): Similar to Kiro’s, both Victor and MC were together when Black Swan had taken them as “test subjects”. Victor met MC at a park where she was balling her eyes out as per usual. Good job MC and comforted her with pudding. Tbh, baby Victor reminds me of Killua from Hunter x Hunter. Anywho, it seems like Victor knew MC was an evolver just like him and he felt the need to watch over her because of what they both were. While he probably knew she was an evolver, it’s likely he didn’t know she was the “Queen” since he was so young. Well, Black Swan caught up with them and took them both into custody and that’s when the escape we see in game happens as well as how they were separated. It confirms in the anime that Victor’s number one goal all his life was to find that girl again. Everything he had done up to this point was for MC. I’m not really sure if he originally decided to keep searching for her because he felt responsible or if there was more to how he felt for her. Considering she did risk her life for his own, it could go either way. But it is clear that he does care for her whether or not she’s the “Queen”. He did know she had an evol but that’s all he knew.

Kiro and Victor seemed more like a traumatic experience bringing them closer which is a common way of bringing people together. If they had not met that way because MC didn’t have the Queen gene, then I’m not sure what would’ve happened.

On to Gavin, my sweet sweet Gavin. Answer is yes. 100%. Man is head over heels for this girl. He looked at her once, pointed, and said “that’s my wife”. Literally. With Gavin’s high school reputation as the frightening “overlord”, everyone was constantly scared of him. Nobody would talk to him or want to be around him because of the terrible rumors going around. How he’s always picking fights, stealing money, this and that. Long story short, none of that is true. He’s actually a vigilante of some sort but he doesn’t care to explain himself because nobody would believe him anyway. So he lived his life being feared. At least up until he met MC for the first time.

Slight spoilers for Gavin’s past (how they met): It was a rainy day and Gavin was walking around in the rain in an alley when he suddenly saw a girl squatting down, shielding a box from the rain with her own body. Gavin looked a bit closer and realized there was a kitten in the box. The girl was quietly talking to the kitten when she felt someone’s eyes on her. She turned to Gavin and then gave him a small smile. The only smile someone has given Gavin in years. The only light and comfort he had felt in so long. Not to mention his family situation. There’s a whole lot going on there if you haven’t read about it yet Because this feeling was new to Gavin, he got flustered and looked away, kicking a can on the ground in hope of a distraction. The girl continued to care for the kitten in the box only to feel a jacket being draped across her shoulders. Unable to thank him in time, MC watched as Gavin jogged across the street in only his shirt as the rain came down harder. I. Love. This. MAN. Ever since that day, Gavin found himself looking for her at school. He watched her silently and helped her whenever she needed it he helped grab a book from the top shelf when she couldn’t reach it. Coincidence he is always there when she needs it? I think NOT. He was smitten for her. Without knowing anything about her other than her kindness, he was a little puppy dog following her around to preserve the light in her. He is, what we all know and love, a SIMP. I STAN ONE MAN AND IT IS THIS SIMP THAT WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HER. Anywho, time goes by, he’s her guardian angel throughout high school and then finds out about her identity in the evolver world from his father who is in a law enforcement group that deals specifically with evolvers. I mean, gestures to Gavin. The man wanted a child with a strong evol. After Gavin found out about who she was, he knew he would need more to protect her and that’s why he became a cop. Yes, this man became a cop just so he could protect the girl he loved. SO TO SUM IT UP, YES. He already fell in love with her without knowing she was an evolver so 100% yes.

Slight spoilers for Lucien as well: As for Lucien, I feel as if his position is a bit more complex. He knew MC when she was younger as well but it seemed like they had more of a friendship rather than him caring for her romantically. The reason why Lucien is originally so intrigued by her (grown up) is because he sees her in color. Lucien is color blind so when he was able to see her drenched in bright vivid colors, he was immediately interested in her. Though I don’t know if he was romantically interested in her in the beginning or if he was just curious, he obviously grew feelings for her later when he decided to protect her and somewhat betray Black Swan. In later chapters, he makes it very clear he was in the wrong with how he saw the world and after making “necessary” sacrifices and realized how much he truly cares about MC. So as far as would he love her without her being the “Queen”, I’m really not sure. The reason they are so close in the first place is because she IS the Queen. But being able to see her in color is probably enough for him to want to get closer to her.

And finally we have the himbo punk boy Shaw. I’m not sure how much you know about Shaw but I am warning you now that there are going to be mentions of his past which DO contain some heavy spoilers.

Shaw is the odd man out, yes. He’s introduced later in the story and actually has a very interesting role. You mentioned you saw MC in a dark dress. Spoiler alert: That is who we call “dark MC”. And it seems as if Shaw has ties with her and is possibly(?) working with her. Then again, Shaw is actually a lone wolf himself. He does what he finds to be entertaining and benefits him. He went against his father’s orders (which is very hot because I hate that man. Eat shit military man) and has his own way of gathering information. He is very good at making relationships with people to gather intel and have people he can use if needed all the while keeping his distance. Shaw very likely only has a relationship with MC because of his line of work. It seems as if he’s actually manipulating her in a way to go according to his own plan that involves dark MC. So far, in my opinion, it doesn’t seem like Shaw has any romantic feelings for MC in the main plot. He’s just interested in her because she spices up his life with chaos and he feeds off of stimulation. Though, I am excited to see how their relationship progresses and what he decides to do when he has to choose between the two sides of MC. There are small signs of Shaw caring more about MC in later chapters now but the man is just in denial because hE dOesNt hAvE aNy wEaKneSsEs.

I hope this helps explain a few things as well as my own thoughts on their relationships if MC wasn’t the Queen. Thanks for the ask!

[dindjarindiaries]

Can I get ❛❛ Shh, shh. It’s okay. You’re alright. You’re safe now. ❜❜ with Ezra? I have been feeling so exhausted and sad lately with everything that has been happening so just anything with our favorite space boi. Thank you love!

character: Ezra (Prospect)

prompt: “Shh, shh. It’s okay. You’re alright. You’re safe now.” from this prompt list!

warnings: mild violence, death, anxiety, longer than a lot of my other drabbles oops

rating: PG-13

masterlist

It’s a harvest gone bad.

Ever since you became Ezra’s partner in your harvesting endeavors, you’ve never had a conflict with another group of harvesters. Even on the desolate moon Depitune, where violence was always known to grow, you’d avoided any kind of threats. You two worked quickly together, you becoming the arm that Ezra no longer had as he trained his left to be just as precise, and so you were always able to get out quickly.

But not this time.

You’re only halfway through your harvest when you hear Tiphus’ forest floor crunching beneath approaching boots. You and Ezra both stop, only halfway through an extraction as you look up to see what’s happening. The spacesuits of two large figures quickly come into sight, and instantly you’re in a panic—but you have no idea what to do.

“Birdie, you must hide,” Ezra commands you in a low tone, and you meet his dark gaze to see the severity he holds within it. His eyes usually sparkle just like the plethora of stars and moons that are always visible in the planets’ and moons’ atmospheres, but in this moment, they’re nothing but cesspools of darkness.

“But, Ezra, what about y—.” You’re not given the luxury of knowing more about his own fate.

“Hide.” Ezra then nudges you roughly with the shoulder and stub of his right side, causing you to fall back a few steps in the pit. You know Ezra would never show you violence in any situation unless it meant life or death—and so you oblige. Your breathing comes heavy inside your suit as you flee into the nearby undergrowth, making sure you keep Ezra and the digging site in your vision as you duck behind a large tree trunk.

The figures come into full sight in front of Ezra, and your eyes widen at how threatening they truly are. Both are men of well-built statures, carrying packs full of tools and weapons that you know are deadlier than anything you’ve ever encountered before. One has a long scar across his face, as if he’s no stranger to these kinds of conflicts, and the other has an angry red scratch just above his left eye. They’ve recently been in a skirmish—which means they’re not afraid to get into another.

Realizing you’ll have no idea what’s being said, you tune into a different frequency, waiting until you hear either the voice of Ezra or the ones of the other men. Once you hear something, you keep your breathing minimal, trying not to be picked up on by either of them.

“... this dig site? Didn’t you know that Tiphus doesn’t accept strangers?” It’s the one with the scar speaking as he looks down at your and Ezra’s harvesting setup.

“I was not aware,” Ezra insists, keeping his left arm raised to show that he means no harm. “This is my first endeavor here on Tiphus, and though I have done extensive research to be certain of what awaits me here, I must have neglected to read up on the discontentment for strangers’ presences.”

“You won’t find that in a book,” the man continues, crossing his arms as he stares down at Ezra. “You’ll learn from experience. And I think you could use a lesson.”

“I hardly believe that’s necessary,” Ezra remarks, backing away from your harvesting tools. You can feel the panic climbing in you more and more with each moment, your heart drumming against your chest as you watch the men starting to close in on Ezra. “Your offer does not go unappreciated, but I believe I can make my own conclusions without your aid.”

“I beg to differ,” the man nearly snarls, reaching for his thrusher. You hold back a gasp with great difficulty, turning your eyes away before you have to watch the event unfold. Yet, no fatal sound comes, and you brace yourself waiting for the moment you have to hear the air leave the man you love’s lungs. “Now, where’s your partner?”

You freeze up completely upon hearing that, finally reopening your eyes and seeing Ezra and the man in the same position—Ezra surrendering while the thrusher’s pointed in his direction. “You must be mistaken,” Ezra remarks. “I work alone.”

“You mean to tell me that you’re out here harvesting, alone, with only one arm?” The man scoffs.

“You highly underestimate a man’s ability to adapt to shortcomings.” Ezra says the words bitterly. You hold back a wince, knowing he’s been insecure about the loss of his arm ever since you’ve met him. Hearing someone demean him for it in such a way makes your heart ache for him.

“The only thing I underestimate is your ability to tell the truth.” Suddenly, you hear the undergrowth around you being tread on, and you can barely get out a gasp before the barrel of a smaller thrusher’s pressed against the side of your helmet. You’d been so wrapped up in what was happening with Ezra that you hadn’t noticed the other man’s absence, and now he’s dragging you back out into the open, where Ezra looks upon you with horrified eyes. “And it seems that I’m correct.”

“You can h-have the dig site,” you insist to them, not looking away from the gaze you’re sharing with Ezra. “We don’t mean any harm.”

“I would say the same,” the man with the scar goes on, “but for all the trouble you’ve caused me now... I have to seek something more in return.”

“Well, I offered you both the opportunity to make peace,” Ezra states. “You should have been more advantageous in accepting it.” Like a flash, you watch as Ezra pulls his own thrusher, quickly taking down both men. You collapse onto the forest floor upon being released by the now-dead man, and you find yourself unable to do anything but sit there as you soak in the horrifying feelings and events you’ve just experienced. You don’t even notice when Ezra kneels down beside you, taking your helmet in his hands to tilt it back up to meet his. His dark gaze searches yours, making sure that you weren’t hurt somehow in the quick event. “Did they hurt you?”

You shake your head. You can hear Ezra take a breath of relief as he takes one of your gloved hands in his. He looks down and observes how much you’re trembling, instantly grimacing as he looks back up at you.

“Let’s make our return to the shuttle.”

Your brow furrows. “B-But, the harvest—.”

“We are not going to complete this harvest, birdie. You are in no condition, and I will not allow you to remain vulnerable to any additional circumstances of violence. We are leaving.”

You finally give in, allowing him to help you stand back up as you head over to your work and clean it up. When everything’s in your packs, you make your way back to where your shuttle’s landed. Everything starts to sink in even further as you arrive as you realize just how close you were to losing Ezra—as well as your own life. You’re still trembling with fear, unable to keep the images out of your mind.

As soon as the shuttle’s sealed and you’re able to free yourselves from your suits, Ezra insists on putting all else aside as he sits beside you. “I never would have allowed them to harm you, birdie.” His voice is much softer than it’d been before, as if his own adrenaline’s finally worn off. He takes both of your hands in his, brushing his thumb over the backs of them.

“I know.” Your voice is quiet and full of strain. “I just—Ezra, I thought I was gonna have to watch you d-die.” You close your eyes, trying to will away the violent images you see but instead having to view them even more. “And because I looked away, the other one was able to get to me, and I thought you’d have to watch me die—and it would’ve been all my fault.” You finally reopen your eyes, seeing the blurry image of Ezra through your tears. “I was so scared.” You squeeze his hand tightly, feeling one of the tears escape your eye. “I can’t lose you.”

Ezra shakes his head, dropping your hands to instead ease you against him with his arm. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. You’re alright. You’re safe now.” Ezra coos the words softly into your ear, his hand brushing through your hair as you bury your face in his chest. He continues to tell you sweet nothings, easing you back into a state of peace. Ezra’s hand never stops cradling you softly, grounding you back to the safety of his arms—the absence of all harm. You keep your arms wrapped tight around his middle, never wanting to let go when you think about how close you were to losing him. Ezra doesn’t seem to mind.

After many moments spent in this peaceful routine, you dare to break the silence, keeping your head where it rests. “Ezra?”

“Hmm?”

You let out a soft breath, finally sitting up from where you are to face Ezra more directly. You see his dark gaze sparkling more in its familiar manner now, bringing even more relief to you. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Your words are still as light as air, hanging there as if a single brush of a hand could wipe them away. “It’s probably been obvious, but after the way I almost lost you today, I need to say it.” One of your hands then comes up to ever so softly brush against his cheek, your thumb running over the small scar there. Ezra’s eyes search yours in a deep manner before you finally confess. “I love you, Ezra.”

Ezra draws in a soft breath, as if he’s been waiting to hear those words for much too long. His gaze sparkles even more, and a small smile begins to form on his lips. “I love you too, birdie.” He pauses, leaning closer to you until your noses and lips are brushing against each others, your eyelids hooded. “And that is precisely why I will never, ever, let anyone or anything harm you. I promise.” With that, he closes the gap between you, letting his lips touch yours to seal the words he’s just spoken—making you forget any anxiety you had leftover and drowning you in the love and comfort you’ve been needing for much too long.

[sondepoch]

Day 10

10 Days (Jumin Han x Reader)

You didn't expect to find yourself locked in an engagement to Chairman Han, but with your own mother forcing you into it, you have no way of denying her. But as time continues and things change, you begin to develop affections for your fiance's son: Jumin Han. But the sad truth is that there's nothing either of you can do to stop the marriage, and you only have these 10 days before your future becomes reality. 10 days with Jumin Han.

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | ✔

MASTERLIST

Jumin's hand never leaves yours.

Not in the morning, when the two of you bathe together for the final time. Not when you check your phones, to learn the details of the wedding. Not when you leave the penthouse, kissing Elizabeth goodbye. Not when you board his private jet, beginning your journey to the private beach in Thailand, where the wedding is supposed to be held. And not now, as the two of you gaze out of the window into the endless expanse of clouds,

You open your mouth to make a comment about the pristineness of Jumin's jet, but before you can say anything, you're both interrupted by the pilot's voice over the speakers.

"Mr. Han, ma'am, I apologize for the inconvenience, but there's been a bomb threat delivered to one of the cities we're supposed to be flying over. All flight units passing through have been instructed to land immediately and wait until Air Traffic Control can process our new flight routes."

"Don't worry about it," Jumin responds, pressing a button as he speaks. "Tell us when it's safe to exit the jet."

"Yes, sir."

When the exchange is over, though, you're left gaping at Jumin, struck by his utter calmness to the whole situation. The man looks almost indifferent.

"What's wrong?" He asks you, eyes raised in concern.

"Jumin, your pilot said someone made a bomb threat to an entire city. Doesn't that scare you?" The very thought leaves your stomach with an uneasy feeling.

"Don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Are you kidding?" Your tone is incredulous. "We might be fine, but think about all those people! They could die today!"

Jumin's neutral expression breaks when he sees your bottom lip quivering, a sudden swarm of emotion hitting you when you think about the prospect of death and pain.

"Don't worry," He mumbles, squeezing your hand. "No one will be harmed. I promise you. Don't let yourself be upset by this."

"How can you be certain?" You ask, glancing out the window. The jet is descending—you can feel it in the change in pressure—and the blanket of clouds you previously saw is no longer visible.

Jumin is silent, opting to not answer your question.

Only then do you notice his suspicious behavior. "Jumin," You say, eyes narrowing as you turn to face him. "How are you so certain that nothing will come to fruition of this bomb threat?"

The man averts his eyes from your hard gaze, sheepishly staring forward while he confesses the truth. "I may have...called in a favor from Luciel."

"Oh my god," You mumble, resisting an urge to facepalm. "You had Luciel threaten an entire city? To postpone this wedding for, what, one more hour?"

"No," Jumin responds quickly, meeting your eyes once more. "That wasn't my reasoning."

"Then, why?"

Jumin is silent, reaching over your body and closing the window cover so that you can't see outside anymore. "You'll see when we exit the jet."

You cross your arms in a huff, your frown deepening when you realize that you and Jumin are no longer holding hands. A part of you can't believe that Jumin, of all people—Luciel's involvement is unsurprising—would go to such dramatic lengths to achieve something. Air Traffic Control will have control of the situation quickly enough, and the two of you only be nothing but inconvenienced with the delay this will cause in arriving at the wedding, so why?

You allow Jumin to guide you out of the jet after the pilot confirms that it's okay, the man subtly slipping his hand back in yours as he slides open the door to the plane.

You gasp.

"Jumin..." You murmur, momentarily unable to think of anything to say other than his name. If you thought yesterday's revamping of the living room was amazing, then this is something else entirely.

Unable to hold yourself back, you pull Jumin's arm forward, leading him out of the jet. "It's beautiful, Jumin. It's beautiful."

You tilt your head right, then left, then forward, then right again—utterly unsure of what to look at when there's so much beauty to take in.

The plane has landed in a field, no trees in sight for as far as your eye can see, and every inch of the ground is covered in color, covered in lovely flowers that beam brightly beneath the afternoon sun.

At your feet, over a hundred daisies surround you. Then further on, there's a patch of anemones, and then asters, and then magnolias, and you can't even identify some of the petalled plants as they stand proudly in bold pinks, bright yellows, rich purples, deep reds, and every shade in between.

"It's amazing," You murmur. "I've never..."

You suddenly remember a conversation you had with Jumin, just three days ago, where you casually mentioned to him that all you've seen of the world has been city life. Your quiet yearning to see a beautiful field like this had been subtle, the two of you moving on from the conversation as quickly as it had been brought up, but Jumin remembered.

"I love you," You murmur, turning around to face Jumin. You already know the words as he repeats them back to you, pulling you in for a tight embrace followed by a loving kiss, but the moment is too sweet to pass by.

"How do you always manage to be so wonderful?" You ask, giggling lightly as the two of you begin walking away from the jet, venturing further out in this field of flowers. You bend down every so often, fingers ghosting over the petals but never plucking them: appreciating but never stealing.

"When you told me you'd never seen a field like this, I thought that it was one of the few tragedies in your life that I could amend." Jumin squeezes your palm, prompting you to stop and face him. "Your smile right now is more beautiful than all these flowers."

You lean up and kiss him again, smiling as the sun beats down on you. You don't even care that in four hours, you'll be on a beach in Thailand committing yourself to Chairman Han until death do you part. Right now, in this field, you and Jumin are untouchable. There's no one to tell you no. No one to pull you apart. No one to deny the most genuine affection you've ever felt.

Here, with only the plants to judge you, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.

In this field of flowers, you can love Jumin freely.

You smile, feeling the sensation of a daffodil rub against your ankle.

"Was a bomb threat really necessary, though?" You ask with an amused smile. "Couldn't you have just asked your pilot to stop here?"

Jumin shakes his head. "Not quite. This is an unregistered landing spot—that's why the natural beauty here has been preserved so well. The only conditions where a plane would be instructed to land here is, well, in the case of something as serious as a bomb threat." Jumin smiles, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. "Few others have laid their eyes on this field, my love. All this beauty is for you."

You smile at Jumin, kissing him even deeper.

In his pocket, his phone vibrates twice: a message from the pilot, saying that the jet has been cleared for takeoff with an alternate route to your destination.

But Jumin doesn't head back immediately. He stays rooted to the spot, hands on your waist, leaning his forehead against yours while a cool breeze wraps around you both.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have given you more happiness," He murmurs, eyes still closed as he stands unmoving and tall.

"No, Jumin." You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, sensing that this is the goodbye he's been waiting for so long to give you. The most beautiful goodbye of them all—surrounded by flowers and fluffy clouds and a blue sky and a bright sun and all things lovely. "You've given me all the happiness I need."

You lean your head upward, a slight movement that barely requires any effort from you, and capture Jumin's lips in the softest kiss you've shared yet. His lips are a ghost on yours, already fading away with the knowledge of your futures pressing down on you both, and all you can feel is the wind as it blissfully dances around your bodies before it slowly, very slowly, comes between your figures and separates you: nature's gentle pull, letting you both know that it's time to part.

You take the man's hand in yours, walking slowly back to the jet, all too aware that you just had your final kiss with Jumin Han. Neither of you have said the word "Goodbye," but there's no need.

The goodbye was the kiss, the warmth, the love. Fleeting in the moment, but eternally longlasting in your memories.

You can't bring yourself to pull your hand away from Jumin's as you two sit down in a comfortable silence once more, suddenly acutely aware that, by clutching his hand, all you're doing is clinging to the memory of the love you're slowly being torn from.

But it doesn't matter.

Your fingers remain interlaced for the next four hours, all the way until the jet has landed on the beach Chairman Han selected for the wedding. Your eyes instantly dart to the large white tent nearby, just a few hundred feet away from where the jet landed, and you lead Jumin there—refusing to let him leave your side until the very end.

"Mother?" You ask, upon entry. But the tent is bare. A small note on a table instructs you to prepare yourself for the ceremony that, according to your phone, is in less than an hour. Will meet you there. Don't pull any funny business. Dress in what we've provided.

You sigh, wordlessly showing the note to Jumin. Of course you wouldn't even be provided with a proper wedding dresser—this whole wedding is exclusively for legal purposes, anyway. You should be surprised that you're not just signing documents.

The whole changing process is rather underwhelming. Your dress is gorgeous, no doubt, so stunning that when Jumin helps you into it, he's temporarily frozen in place by how utterly glamorous you look, the white fabric showing the perfect mix of skin and design. But you can't bring yourself to love the dress, or the shoes, or the jewelry that's been laid out for you. It's all for Chairman Han, when you want it to be for Jumin.

The beginning of the end, if you will.

In the distance, the two of you hear voices.

"It seems that they've arrived," Jumin notes, creeping open the flap of the tent to reveal what looks like your mother, Chairman Han, and a minister, all standing far in the distance. The setup is far from extravagant, but the setting sun in the background adds an element of serenity that you almost resent.

"They can wait," You mumble, wrapping a cover over your dress while trying to figure out what to do for your makeup.

You don't want to look pretty.

No, you want to look ugly.

You want your eyeliner to be shaky and uneven, your foundation unnecessarily thick, and your lipstick four shades too dark for your skin tone. You want your hair to stick up unnaturally as it does every so often, and to ruin all your natural beauty with the sea of makeup and hair products laid out in front of you.

You don't want Chairman Han to have the privilege of a beautiful bride.

But the more time you spend in this tent, preparing yourself, the more time you have to savor the last few moments you have with Jumin.

So you take your time, fingers working slowly as they go through the makeup routine you perfected years ago. You move at a leisurely pace, holding your hands steady as they work, preparing yourself not for the wedding with Chairman Han, but for the final walk you'll be making down the beach with Jumin.

He stares at you the whole time as you get ready, calmly taking in everything you do. You can tell that he's memorizing the deftness of your fingers, the crane of your neck, the posture of your shoulders, as you continue. And you go so slow that, from the corner of your eye, you're able to take in the last of the details about him, too: the rhythm to the rise and fall of his chest, the stiffness with which he readjusts his sleeve cuffs every so often, the bob of his neck as he swallows whenever you switch beauty products.

For once, time doesn't rush the moment forward. It's a quiet mercy, unnoticeable to most, but you can feel it in the slowness of the breeze and the lagging tranquility of the waves as they crash.

It's a final moment of peace.

You step back from the mirror, finally finished with the last of your makeup and hair. Slipping your white gloves on and the sheet protecting your wedding dress off, Jumin comes over to you the moment you're done, his hand resting tenderly on your hip as he faces the mirror with you.

He's imagining you as his bride, you know.

Why, in your head, you're doing the exact same thing—the man already dressed like the ideal groom in his elegant three-piece suit.

The two of you really do look perfect together.

But the moment does not last. It never lasts. In the distance, a seagull cries three times, pulling you both from your thoughts.

You turn around, gently clasping Jumin's gloved hands in your own.

"You look exquisite," He murmurs, softly caressing your fingertips. His eyes are filled with love, his grey affection being all you can see as you stare up into the eyes you've grown to love so much.

You feel an urge to lean up in your heels and kiss the man, but you force yourself to suppress it. The current moment isn't meant to be happy for either of you, and you won't allow yourself to forget that truth. The fates have spoken, and your destinies have been written. Along different paths.

Not a single tear slips down either of your cheeks as you prepare to step away from each other for the final time. There are no tears left to shed, nowhere for them to come from. Your hearts are gone, cold and abandoned in the flowery field of peace Jumin brought you to, only to be remembered in your fading memories of each other.

Jumin kisses your gloved fingers, lips ghosting over each of the knuckles as he gazes down at you. Doubtless, he knows as much as you do that the moment you leave this tent, you no longer belong to him.

His gaze shifts to the flap of the entrance, a gentle breeze opening it like nature's whisper that the time has come. The man looks at you, wordlessly offering his arm.

There's only one path forward.

MASTERLIST

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | ✔

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: Wow. I can't believe it's over! This series has been such a pleasure to write, and I want to thank everyone who's supported me by reading this. If I'm being honest, I think I planned on making this chapter a bit more angsty...but I'm content with the way I ended things. Their love wasn't perfect, but it was beautiful - and I think that's what made the journey so passionate.

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

[mlqcconfessions]

Hi I absolutely love your headcanons. I have epilepsy and these can take many forms for me (full on seizures, absence seizures (looks like I've zoned out) and muscle spasms where I drop things and break them (I will cry cause I feel like my body is betraying me). I have anxiety and although I'm 4 years seizure free I always have a fear of 'what if today is the day' and having to remember to take my meds everyday. Can I have a HC of the boys taking care of MC with epilepsy and how they help her.

Although I’m not too familiar with the technical side of epilepsy, I did have a close high school friend who would occasionally get seizures during classes. I did a little research on my own time! Hope you enjoy it!

MLQC Headcanon - The closest one to you

Victor

You weren’t afraid to tell him about you having epilepsy (he didn’t want you to hide anything from him, anyways)

He wants you to describe everything to him (if you feel any pain, what medications you take, what he could do to help, etc)

He hires a professional to be your temporary carer

He didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t the one closest to you anymore

But with the way he is now, he won’t be that helpful to you

And he KNOWS that (that’s what makes it so frustrating)

He spends his free time between work to study up on epilepsy (and how to be a carer)

You’re worried that he’s dedicating so much of his precious time (and you know just how Victor feels about time)

“Have you forgotten who I am?” (he’s so cheeky sometimes)

He finishes clearing documents at a demonic speed (Goldman reiterates, I TOLD you he was an alien)

In the meantime, he does the simple tasks (ones that don’t require extensive knowledge)

He is ON YOU when you’re taking medications (Time is literally of the essence, MC)

He has a chart by his office desk with your details (so he knows what time, how many, how often you need to take the pills)

Because he can’t always be with you, he orders the professional carer to be by your side at all times (but makes him maintain a private distance that won’t make the CEO husband angry)

You haven’t had seizures for quite a while, but it’s always on the back of your mind

Victor knows that you’re worried about this (it makes him upset that there’s nothing he can do about it)

Although he can’t prevent future seizure from happening, he does his best to reassure you that he WILL be by your side to take care of you

“I don’t believe you, Victor” (this is your chance to make him BEG)

He doesn’t say anything for while, but picks up his phone to call someone

You can faintly hear the voice on the other side of the line

“Goldman, gather up all the employees in the building and have them meet at the main lobby” (....sorry sir, but can I ask just why...?)

“Victor, what are you—”

“Well, my wife here doesn’t believe me when I say I’m going to be by her side always” (....and....you want me to gather everyone because.....)

“Because if I actively proclaim my love to her in front of a crowd, she’ll trust my words” (he’s looking at you, smirking)

“Victor, you wouldn’t!”

“Try me”

The line hangs up (Goldman doesn’t get paid enough for this)

Kiro

He’s heard of it, but knows NOTHING about it (except a little about the seizures)

He’s scared when you talk about your past experiences

“And are you okay now?” (he has these puppy dog eyes)

“Well, I haven’t had these seizures for quite some time now” (omg you just want to hug him and kiss him all over)

Savin notices Kiro reading a lot more during schedules

Wait. Kiro. READING????? 

Yes.

Sunshine boy is trying so hard to understand what epilepsy is

So he bookmarked all these articles online to read on his spare time

But God help him, he doesn’t comprehend what these words mean

He figured it was easier to just talk to a professional about it

Later in the week, he wants you to come over to his house on his day off

When you go inside, his entire house has been fortified

No more sharp edges, no more hard floors, security alarms set in every room?

“Ta-dah!” (Kiro proudly shows off his new home)

“Kiro...what....what’s all this for?”

“I think your apartment is too dangerous for you to stay by yourself” (he ushers you to sit down)

“It would be fine if I can regularly go to your house, but Savin said that’s too risky” (and risky it WAS, with all the fans following his every move)

“So I decided the best option was to bring you to MY home!”

Although it’s a little sudden, you can tell that he’s genuinely worried for you

“Haha...thank you, Kiro” (you get up to hug him)

“You’re welcome, MC” (he squeezes you even tighter)

“You’re free to use this house as you please. You can even change the interior here!” (No, that’s okay Kiro)

“When I can’t stay here during work, I’ll send my stylists over to check up on you” (he smooths your hair down)

“But don’t get too along with them! I’m going to get jealous!” (he puffs his cheeks out what the heck, that’s adorable)

You reach out to kiss his nose

“Don’t worry, you’re the only one I can get this intimate with”

He immediately picks you up, and you’re dangling over his shoulders

“Well, I don’t think that’s intimate enough” (sunshine? More like sun-KISSED)

Lucien

If there’s anyone more familiar with how epilepsy works, it’s Dr. Lu Lu

He knows more than you?

He doesn’t think it’s necessary to hire a professional carer (he’s the best carer, wdym)

He’s prepared to the fullest 

You tell him that it’s been a while since your last seizure

“We can never be too sure, MC”

Although you haven’t moved into the same house yet, he frequently drops by your apartment (he doesn’t leave until the next day)

During lectures he always looks back at you (to make sure you’re doing fine)

AFTER lectures he makes sure your........physical form is in top condition (SFW if you know what I mean)

He worries that you’re overwhelmed with work sometimes

Offers to lessen your load by helping you edit videos

He’s actually good at making videos? (Youtuber in the making?)

You sometimes ask him to brew tea for you (it helps you relax)

He has a designated cup in his house just for you (when you’re not there, he places it in the display case)

You’re not actually interested in drinking tea

You just like how elegant he looks when he’s brewing

The soft smell of chamomile and lavender in his room is so calming

You fall asleep on his couch while he’s gathering some materials in another room

He’s slightly startled when he doesn’t hear your voice anymore (he quickly sets his papers down and crouches next to you)

Your cute snores make him laugh (he records it for future reference)

When you wake up, you’re back in your bed

“Lucien?”

He peers inside the door, pushes up his GLASSES, (yes I am a Glasses Lucien freak) and smiles at you

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t plan on dozing off like that”

“No worries, I was able to keep myself entertained”

“Oh? What were you looking at?” (you step out to the living room, finding a stack of albums on the table)

???

“You were adorable in this zebra onesie” (LUCIEN PLEASE)

Gavin

He’s dealt with plenty of rogue evolvers during his missions

Most of them had seizures while their evols were going out of control

How different could it be? (Birdcop has never been more wrong in his life)

He’s so taken back when you explain epilepsy to him

The way you describe it makes it sound so terrifying?

He listens inventively to the first aid procedures

He follows through pretty smoothly, actually (damn right, he’s Agent B-7)

You notice that he’s a LOT more attentive towards you

He was always like that before, but it’s to a greater extent now

If you’re quiet for a minute, he starts to panic

“It’s okay, Gavin! I’m okay” (you have to stop him from busting down the bathroom door)

He doesn’t like it when he has to leave you to go on missions (especially ones where he doesn’t know when he’ll get back)

He assigns Minor and/or Eli as your bodyguard (for all locations EXCEPT your apartment)

Anna is responsible for watching over you when you’re home

He calls/texts you so often (it’s like he never left)

His mind is elsewhere during work (but he never fails the missions, because he’s AGENT BIRDCOP-7)

Something you don’t know is that Eli and Minor are required to send photos of you once in a while (something about him being unable to trust their words)

WORST. PEOPLE. TO. ASSIGN. THIS. TO.

Eli takes photos with himself in it (and the focus is not even on you)

Minor always takes them while you’re moving (he only manages to capture your afterimage)

Anna to the rescue, honestly (that’s an entire photoshoot)

The first thing he does after returning is checking to make sure you’re okay (he hugs you after his checkup is done)

“........Gavin, what are these gashes on your arm?”

“....so......what do you want for dinner tonight?”

F

I don’t know why, but I always make Lucien’s headcanons somewhat nsfw

I can’t help it, he just does that to me

[slightly-nerdy-rambles]

Robstar Week Day 3: A New Life (Prompt: Tamaran)

And now we come to this year’s Royal Family Verse prompt! For those of you unfamiliar with it, this is a special story ‘verse that I set one Robstar Week story in each year; not exactly an AU, but a bit of an unusual interpretation of events that happen post-Tokyo. You’ll see what those events are in this fic (It’s set right at the beginning of the overarching story), but if you’d like to see a bit more, just take a look at the “Royal Family Verse” tag on my blog.

I’d really been hoping for a prompt that would allow me to write something set around the beginning of this storyline, and “Tamaran” ended up being perfect. The following scene is something that had been floating around in my head for quite some time, and it feels good to finally have it set down in the official ‘verse!

A New Life

It was not supposed to end this way.

Galfore was a good ruler. He had spent most of his life in the capital, and he had been one of Emperor Myand’r’s closest confidants. He had taught Starfire – Princess Koriand’r, back then – and her siblings almost everything they knew about guiding, aiding, and defending their people. He was intelligent, thoughtful, loyal, and dedicated, and in the short time since he’d been declared Grand Ruler, he had dismantled the seeds of corruption that had allowed Blackfire to take a stranglehold on Tamaran and brought to it an age of peace and security that the planet had not seen since before the Gordanian invasion.

What he lacked – directly, at least – was an heir.

Starfire had received the news two days ago: Galfore had been attacked by an assassin, and though he’d avoided serious injury, a poisoned blade had managed to cut deep into his thigh. The poison had been discovered and treated immediately, but it was potent, and at the time it was unknown whether he would even survive. The uncertainty of it all was almost worse than the news itself, and she had a lot to think about while she waited for an update. The other Titans had respected her space in this time, while still giving her what comfort and encouragement they could.

Now, though, it was time to talk to them. And she started, had to start, with Robin.

The two of them sat facing each other cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom. Robin watched her patiently, waiting until she was ready to speak. Starfire’s knee bounced a little with nervous energy, and she found herself looking almost anywhere in the room but him.

Finally, she let out a low sigh. “I received another transmission from Tamaran this morning.”

Robin nodded. “I heard. Is… Is Galfore going to be all right?”

Starfire bit her lip, still looking a little to the side. “He is… for the most part. He is alive, stable and fully expected to recover, but the poison has already done some irreparable damage. He will never have full use of his leg again.”

Robin winced – he knew how much value Tamaraneans put on physical strength. “I’m glad he’s… mostly okay, but that still has to be hard. I’m sorry.”

Starfire sighed again. Now came the hard part. “That is not all. If it was, I would have simply considered it a blessing for how much he will recover. Galfore is very resilient, and I know that he will handle the setback well. But not everybody is going to view it that way.”

For the first time, she let her gaze meet his. “My people are warriors, Robin, and the Grand Ruler is expected to defend the nation personally. That is why we allow physical challenges for the throne, such as you saw when I overthrew Blackfire. In his condition, Galfore will have no end of challenges, whether from people who view him as weak and unfit to rule or those who simply see a chance to take the crown for themselves. And though the Grand Ruler does not have to accept every challenge, denying too many of them will lose him the support of the council.

“Galfore is very strong and skilled, but he cannot risk a power-hungry fool taking advantage of an obvious weakness to overcome him. To prevent such a thing, he has chosen to abdicate his role as Grand Ruler… and appoint a successor in his place.”

Robin straightened up a fraction, his eyes widening slightly. “…And you’re the successor.” It was less a question than a statement of fact, a realization of just where this conversation had been leading him.

Starfire gave a shallow nod. “He intended to find another suitable candidate to name and train as his heir, but that would require time he no longer has. I am already trained and proven in the people’s eyes, and I am the only member of the previous dynasty still eligible and available. Tamaran has been through so much turmoil in the past several years… I cannot turn down the crown again.”

Again, she found herself unable to meet his eyes. Slowly, regretfully, she unhooked her communicator from her belt and placed it on the floor between them.

“I am sorry,” she said, her voice soft, “but I must leave for Tamaran soon. It seemed only right to tell you first, especially since… we cannot be together any longer.”

Robin didn’t say anything for several moments. From the corner of her eye, Starfire saw him reach for the communicator and grasp it in his own hand. He held it there for a few seconds, as if afraid to do anything more with it, and then he finally spoke up.

“Take me with you.”

Starfire jolted at that, wide eyes snapping up at him. “What?”

Robin’s own eyes seemed to have widened under the mask, and she got the sense that even he was a little surprised by what he’d just said. Taking a deep breath, he set her communicator back on the floor and went on.

“You’ve already had to leave behind the life you knew before. I… I know what that’s like, and I don’t want you to have to do it again alone. I want to go with you.”

Starfire couldn’t believe what she was hearing right now. “I… I will still have Galfore, and accepting the crown will be me returning to my old life. You are suggesting you move to an unfamiliar planet and leave everyone else you know behind for my sake, and I cannot accept that. What of the other Titans?”

Robin let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “They’ll already be losing you – the team’s going to have to rebuild itself either way. And even though you’re technically going back, you know it can never be the same as it was when you were a kid. You wouldn’t have been so openly upset about this if it could. If I have to leave someone I care about, at least let me do it on my own terms.”

Starfire shook her head and stood up. “Robin, you will be an outworlder. You would need to prove yourself on the testing grounds to be considered anything more than a guest who must stay under heavy guard anytime you are in the palace.” She began to pace the floor, running through the scenario in her head. “And you already know that Tamaraneans do not court for as long as humans of your country. If you come with me, my people will expect nothing less than marriage.”

“…Okay.”

Starfire froze in her tracks and turned to stare at him again. Robin’s face flushed red, and he stood up and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, I… You’re right, I do know how Tamaranean courting works. I know how hard it is for your species to give up a loved one and find a new partner. And I know that you’re going to need to get married and eventually… produce heirs of your own, and that you’d want to even if it wasn’t necessary.” The red in his face deepened. “And… I’ve been thinking about it a while, even before Galfore got attacked. It’s a little earlier than I was planning, but I already knew that was the direction we were headed. Both of us.”

Starfire searched his face as his thoughts spilled out in an increasing ramble. She could see no hint of uncertainty or false confidence in his expression, and she murmured a gentle, “Robin…”

With a deep breath, he went on. “I… I know I can’t really propose to the future empress of Tamaran, but if it’s what you want, then so do I. I just… don’t want to lose you.” With a nervous little laugh, he added, “Besides, I seem to remember you saying that Tamaraneans confessing their love to one another is practically how they get engaged, and we’ve already kind of done that.”

Starfire was speechless at first. Of all the responses she’d imagined him taking to her news, this was one of the few she had not dared seriously consider. A part of her, the part that had never lost its ties to her original culture, had been ready to marry since they first affirmed their love for one another a year ago in Tokyo. She desperately wanted to ask – no, beg him to marry her, to join her on Tamaran as consort and be with her always.

But she still wasn’t certain that he would not regret it.

“And… The other Titans?” she asked hesitantly, folding her arms tight against herself. “I know what you already said, but you are their leader, and together we make up nearly half of the team.”

Robin rubbed his arm. “I’ve thought about that too. After you found out about Galfore and I realized you might need to leave, I mean,” he admitted. “But honestly? The Titans have come a long way since our team first came together. I think Cyborg can take over as leader – though that’s up to him, Beast Boy and Raven – and if they need more help, I know a few honoraries are looking for a team to join full-time.”

So this had not been an impulsive decision. Robin had seriously thought about it, and had already made up his mind – and not in that stubborn and single-minded way he could get when chasing some villain he considered his specific responsibility to stop. Even so, some part of Starfire still thought she should say no, that this was her responsibility now and that he would be giving up too much just to stay with her.

But then she remembered when she first came to Earth, scared and alone and lashing out, and the boy who had risked life and limb to calm her down and help her. As a core member of the royal family, she was the one meant to aid and sacrifice for her people. It was one of the first times that someone had gone out of their way for her, not out of duty as a guard or another royal but just because they wanted to help.

She truly didn’t have to do this alone. Yes, the responsibilities of Grand Rulership would be hers to bear – the man she chose to marry would only be an emperor consort, after all – but she could still have someone by her side to support her all the way. And Robin had offered to be that someone. He wanted to.

Starfire didn’t realize she’d started crying until Robin stiffened in alarm. “Star!” he shouted, rushing to her and clasping her arms with a firm but gentle grip. “I-I’m sorry, I came on too strong and you’re already dealing with a lot, I shouldn’t have said anything yet, just forget I –”

But Starfire cut him off by throwing her arms around him and burying her head in his shoulder. Despite all the pain and uncertainty of the past few days, she found herself laughing, just a little, though the tears.

“Do not apologize,” she murmured into his shoulder. “I am… overwhelmed with emotion right now, but for the first time, some of that emotion is good.”

She could feel Robin’s muscles relax as he returned her embrace, and for several moments the two of them just stood there, clinging to each other like lifelines.

Finally, Starfire pulled back and let her forehead rest against his, giving him a watery smile.

“Robin…” she murmured. “…I love you. And in case you are uncertain, I do mean that in the full Tamaranean sense of the phrase.” Her smile broadened. “If you will have me, I believe you will make a wonderful emperor.”

Robin returned her smile with one of his own, and he answered her unspoken question by leaning forward and catching her lips with his own. And for the first time since Galfore’s injury, Princess Koriand’r of Tamaran felt that everything was going to be okay.

[firerwolf]

Tested

The universe was testing Tom, he was sure of it.

Another thing he was sure of was that he was failing that test.

If he were truly honest with himself, he would never be ready for this. The Commander sat alone in his quarters, staring down at the glass of scotch that he’d poured for himself. He’d intended to let the alcohol wash away his worries. Instead it had just brought an aching pain to his chest. The silence in the room was a constant reminder of the day’s events, which Tom wanted desperately to avoid thinking about.

He felt the urge to get up and move; pace around the room to try to relive his stress. But that would be a mistake. If he stood up now he’d be unable to keep himself in his quarters. He’d make his way down to the tram station, and he’d get half way to the infirmary before he’d realize how bad the situation was. Then he would have to decide between a shameful ride back to the officer’s deck or sitting around in the medical bay like a sad puppy and inviting unwanted questions of why he was there.

Tom closed his eyes, trying to block out the world around him, seeking refuge from the emptiness of his room. However this only gave his memories a chance to reassert themselves against his wishes…He hadn’t been in the hangar when she’d been brought aboard. The mission was still active, so his place was on the operations deck. He had been stationed there a little over a year ago when this had first happened. And his reaction wasn’t any better now than it was then. Even after everything that had occurred since Paris.

Tom could still smell the mix of charred metal and blood that came with his recollection. Normally spotless white armor had been a marred by patches of black and smeared red from the efforts of her teammates to keep her alive. Tom could feel the tears collecting in his eyes and he didn’t bother to try to keep them at bay. He knew that she’d be upset with him if she saw him like this, but he wasn’t going to hide away his feelings while he was alone. “Commander Lasky,” a calm female voice spoke up, causing Tom to open his eyes. His vision was blurred from the tears but he still could see the holographic projection of the ship’s AI on a terminal near his door. “You requested that I inform you when Commander Palmer got out of surgery.” “I did,” Tom confirmed, happy to find that at least his voice was fairly steady. “What’s the verdict on her condition.” “Doctor Varin has confirmed that Commander Palmer will make a full recovery. He believes her rehabilitation will be swift enough that a temporary replacement will not be necessary.”   Tom bit back the urge to assert that there was no possible replacement for Plamer, knowing that it would be a pointless to lash out when Annie didn’t mean any offense. “Thank you, Annie. That will be all.” Tom was thankful when the AI’s avatar vanished without another word, leaving him to his thoughts again. Knowing that Sarah would be fine eased the pain in his chest, but he was still facing many days alone until she could be cleared to leave the infirmary. Though even when she would be released, they still had a long conversation ahead of them - which he wasn’t looking forward to. The way he was currently reacting was exactly why he’d been hesitant to get involved with her to begin with. He’d buried enough friends and lovers to have learned as well as any ODST that relationships while in the service of the UNSC guaranteed pain.

When Palmer had been injured badly enough to need a medical evac for the first time, Tom had been just as worried. Of course at that time it was because of how seeing a Spartan - and one of the strongest people he’d ever met - at the mercy of fate the same as any other soldier had shaken him. Now he was upset for a different reason. Now it was because she was the woman he loved. And he’d been faced with the genuine fear that she would die. That he would lose her.

He’d known this would happen, eventually, and he knew he wouldn’t take it well when the time came. What he wasn’t expecting was that, as he sat alone and tried to keep his breathing even so he wasn’t full-on sobbing, he didn’t regret a thing. Well, he regretted that Sarah was injured for certain. But he didn’t regret a single moment of being with her. He loved her, and all the pain and heartache that he knew lay ahead of them couldn’t outweigh all the joy and peace he knew they’d share too.

*~*~*~*~*

Tom sat at the small desk tucked away in the corner of his room, trying to decipher the recent resupply manifest. Sargent Cother was on bed rest with a small flu-bug, which meant that Lance Corporal Kaft was writing up the reports; and the man clearly had no practice at the job. Tom was trying to decipher the man’s shorthand for how many MA4B rifles that had been in the last shipment, when the door to his quarters opened, causing him to jump. Usually Annie would have informed him if someone wanted a meeting with him. So the lack of announcement at a guest’s arrival was a surprise. Sarah sauntered into his room as though she hadn’t been in intensive care only weeks ago. She wore her casual clothing, and was staring down at the screen of her tablet like this wasn’t the first time she’d visited since her injury. He studied her for a moment, looking for any signs that he could read to get a feel for her mood, but there was nothing. She finally looked up from her screen and saw him looking back at her. A smile spread across her face and Tom felt his fears lift off him. Without really thinking through what he was doing, he stood up so fast that he almost knocked over his chair. Tom crossed the room before he could second guess himself and his hands cupped Sarah’s cheeks as he pulled her down into a forceful kiss. He was all the more relieved when she returned the kiss and her arms lightly wrapped around his waist. Against his will his breath became uneven and Tom found himself trying to suppress his sobs so he could continue their exchange of affection. Palmer pulled away, and for a moment he feared that she was cross with him for how upset he was. But to his relief she still kept him close, guiding his face to her shoulder. Tom didn’t protest, just let himself break down as he wrapped his arms around her neck and she held him against her.

“Let it out,” Sarah whispered, one of her hands starting to rub his back. He felt like a fool for needing to be comforted like this when he was over forty. And he felt even worse when Sarah suddenly lifted him bridal style and carried him through the room. This was certainly not a dignified moment for him. Sarah sat down and she let him settle on her lap as she cradled him. “It’s okay,” she muttered to him. He was ashamed that he couldn’t control himself or his emotions, but he couldn’t hold it back and he was just a crying mess in her arms. Tom wasn’t sure how long it was before he finally calmed down. An odd peace had settled in the room and Tom didn’t dare move and risk breaking it.

“I’m getting some real mixed signals here, Tom. If you’re going to break up with me just do it.” “What?” Tom lifted his head, brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to process what she’d said. “Why do you think I want to break up with you?” “Well you didn’t visit me in the med-bay, or S-deck when I was recovering, and you haven’t been messaging me. Sort of all the signs that you’ve been spooked,” Palmer reasoned. Tom set his head back against her shoulder, this time more in shame. “I didn’t,” he admitted. His first instinct was to make excuses, try to rationalize why he’d failed to contact her or visit her…But he stopped himself. “I don’t want to break up.” “You’re taking this better than I thought you would,” Palmer commented, hugging him a little tighter for a moment.   “You’re coddling me like a toddler after I cried my eyes out,” Tom pointed out. “I don’t think I’ve handled it very well at all.” “You didn’t run,” Palmer countered. “Though I suppose considering how you reacted now, maybe it wasn’t so bad that you didn’t come visit.” “I should have visited, or at least sent you a message. I just…” Tom struggled to find the words to explain what had kept him from reaching out to her. “You got scared,” Sarah offered, one of her hands starting to rub his back lightly again. If anyone else could see him at that moment Tom was sure he would die of embarrassment, but he wasn’t worried about Sarah. He knew she wouldn’t judge him for his weakness. “What matters is that you aren’t bolting.” “You think I’d bolt?” Tom wasn’t sure if he should be insulted by how easily she thought that he would leave her. “I mean, it would be reasonable considering everything,” Palmer said. Though Tom didn’t feel like that really answered his question. “You were the one that was afraid to get involved because you cared. And I get it. I mean you’ve been losing people you care about to combat since you were a teenager, it’s hard for that not to traumatize someone.” Tom sat up and Sarah loosened her grip to allow him to move. He turned to face her and swallowed his fear of her possible reaction, forcing himself to say what he needed to say. “I’m more sure than ever that this is what I want.” He motioned to the two of them. “I love you, and I want to be with you. I won’t run. Yeah, when you get hurt I’ll be scared. I’ll be sad. But you make me happy more than anything else. So it’s worth it.” “If you didn’t run from this, I believe you,” Sarah told him, smiling as she reached up and gently rubbed a thumb along the edge of his eye. “You look like crap right now, so you know I mean it when I say you are the most beautiful man.” She leaned forward for a quick kiss. Tom couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face as he leaned on her shoulder and they settled in to enjoy each other’s company. “Though next time I hope that you at least send me a message if I’m stuck in an infirmary bed.” “Fair enough,” Tom replied with a small chuckle.

Deviantart Fanfiction.net AO3

[withyounct]

What’s wrong kid? (7)

Reader x Single dad!Jaehyun

Genre: Fluff

Words: 4k

Prompt: You notice a child crying at a school playground. You decide to see what’s up and meet an extremely stressed/extremely handsome father.

Prev | Next

A/n: Sorry that this took forever... Enjoy!

Fall flew by faster than you would have ever hoped, and the cold desolate winter reared its head your way. You loved the winter. It was a magical time where you could wear all the sweaters you wanted, drink all the special flavored coffee drinks with Jaemin you could stomach, and frolic around the snow with Mark.

Winter however, brought unbearable stress and pain with her. Mid-terms lightly rustled you up while finals tried to kill you. The week leading up to it you were permanently stuck in the library. Living on the 9th floor designated for all sciences surrounded by rows of books and rivers of silent tears. You were on your tenth breakdown of the week; too tired to even quiet down your loud sobs that rang through the floor when Kun found you.

You looked up at your roommate with tear filled eyes and broke out another sob. His condition wasn’t quite like yours, but you could see that the stress was getting to him too. Wordlessly, he sat down on the floor next to you, taking the book that was in your shaking hands, and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Please sleep.”

You woke up on the library floor alone wrapped in one of Kun’s old sweaters. Sitting up, you found a box of snacks both healthy and unhealthy with a note from Ten.

Kun told me where to find you. I didn’t want to wake you, so here’s a present! I know Kun is the pep talk one, but you’re one of the smartest individuals that I’ve ever met, so don’t stress too much. It’ll ruin your pretty face. – Your fav mom friend <3

“I can’t believe you came into the genetics final looking like the grim reapers bride and made a fucking A.” Yangyang groaned.

“She was legit crying while taking the English one, but was the first done.” Haechan picked up a fry and threw it at you.

“Y/n dramatic nature when it comes to tests doesn’t matter, we’re free!” Jaemin beamed. “What are our holiday plans?”

“I'm stealing Yangyang and we’re going to China with my family.” Renjun informed with a vey happy Yangyang nodding. The rest added that they were doing their regular holiday shenanigans and spending Christmas day with family. You usually spent the days leading to Christmas with them and Christmas morning with Lucas’s family since you went over there a lot as a child.

“What about you Ms. Taken? What plans do you and Jaehyun have?” Jaemin leaned in a smirk ever evident on his face.

“What plans?” You asked confused. Their collective faces fell, and every side conversation was silenced.

“Okay he has to die. What do you mean ‘what plans’? He hasn’t asked you to spend your first Christmas together with him?” There were only handful of times you’ve seen Jeno genuinely upset in all the years that you knew him, and it surprised you every time.

“We haven’t had the conversation. We’ve both been busy.” You murmured playing with your food, unable to look at your friends.

“Well my family and I would love to have you over if plans don’t pan out.” Lucas reassured while swinging his foot with yours.

“Thanks Lucas.”

You were helping Hyunjin put up lights in the living room after dinner. She still had a week left in school, but was through the roof excited for the holidays. It didn’t take much convincing on her part to make you buy stuff early and help her. She batted her lashes, pouted, and suddenly you were ready to sign away your life to her.

You were pinning the last string when she asked you what you were doing for Christmas.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, jumping down from the chair you were standing on. She looked at you confused and tilted her head. You had to bite back a giggle at how much she resembled a little puppy.

“Will you like to spend it with us?” She asked cutely twiddling her fingers.” Daddy wants to ask you, but he's shy.” She told.

“Is that so?” You laughed, kneeling so you were eye level with her. She nodded and looked at you with worry in her eyes as if you would say no.

“Hyunjin, I would love nothing more than to spend Christmas with you and Jaehyun.” You smiled, lightly petting her head. Before you had the time to react she threw herself on you and knocked you onto the floor. You tightened your grasp on her, so she didn’t hit the floor. She pulled up and kissed you on the cheek. Looking down at her smiling face, your heart melted at how happy she was.

You pushed yourself off the floor with her still in hand and the two of you continued to decorate the room. The task seemed to be too daunting for one day and after a few hours Hyunjin started to get tired. You glanced at your phone and decided to call it a day and got her ready for bed. She was out before the first book was finished and you stayed a bit longer petting her while she slept. From your place on the bed, you heard the front door open. Carefully, you exited the room and ventured into the living room.

You were greeted with the presence of Jaehyun being supported by Taeyong and Yuta while they dragged his swaying figure. The three stopped and looked up at your confused face.

“We just had dinner with the other head honchos and shareholders because the university project finished and was revealed successfully.” Yuta informed.

“They kept pouring Jaehyun drinks, so he's incredibly drunk.” Taeyong finished. Jaehyun very cutely raised one fist into the air and yelled in victory. Your chuckling at his cute antics grabbed his attention and his face lit up. He sloppily pushed off his friends and pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

“We did it.” He slurred, kissing all over your face. You giggled, but put no effort in pulling away.

“Yes, you did. Renjun snuck me into the building and it was amazing.” You confessed between the kisses Jaehyun was painting your lips. You held his face still for a second and turned to his friends. “Thank you for bringing him home safe. I got the rest.”

Yuta had to physically stop Taeyong from taking pictures and drag him out the house. You heard a ‘but they’re so cute!’ before the door was closed. You took a second to really observe Jaehyun; how his face and ears had a slight red hue to it and how even though you were supporting him up he was still swaying.

You sat him down on the couch and his lips were on yours again. Laughing into the kiss you pulled away and started to undo his tie, which proved difficult since he refused to be more than two centimeters away from you.

“Jaehyun. Give me a second please.” You asked softly. He pouted, but stopped regardless. You quickly pulled off the tie and kissed him as thanks. He pulled you onto his lap and buried his face into your neck.

“We should get you to bed.” You sighed as he placed sloppy kisses around the back of your neck.

“No, don’t leave me.” He mumbled as he tightened his hold on you. You slightly shifted so you were sitting sideways on him and carded your fingers through his already messed up hair.

“I'm not going anywhere.” He leaned his head on your chest as you continued, and you saw his breathing level out. You stayed like this longer than necessary as you watched him dozed off.

There was a calm wave that washed over you in the quiet of the room, the only noise filling it being yours and Jaehyun’s soft breathing. You were lost in the background hum when a thought ran through your mind.  You looked down at him. He was peacefully drifting off on you, lips curled up in a small smile, and hands tightly wrapped around you with no wants of letting go. Your heart did something it never did before and it scared you a little.

Glancing at the led clock across the room and realizing that it was well after midnight, you shook Jaehyun awake and convinced him to let you drag him to his room. After several close calls and sorrys on your part, you sat Jaehyun down on his bed. You stood up to catch your breath and scanned the room. You walked into his closet and picked out a random t-shirt and returned back to him.

Kneeling in front of him, you started to unbutton his dress shirt. It was weirdly intimate, and you glanced up to find him smirking in his drunken state. You quickly finished, flicked him on the forehead, and threw his shirt at him. As he pulled on his shirt you contemplated your options. You had no intentions of staying the night. You and Haechan had plans in the morning, but Jaehyun’s ‘don’t leave me’ played in your head. Quickly deciding against going home, you told Jaehyun that you were going to take a shower and would be right back. You got back a muffled okay as he wormed his way under the covers.

You took the shortest shower of your life and stole one of Jaehyun’s shirts to change in. You set an alarm for the morning and found your usual place under the covers next to Jaehyun. You expected him to be asleep, but was proven wrong when arms wrapped around you.

“You smell like me.” He whispered eyes still closed.

“I think you meant to internally monologue that, but yeah I used your body wash.” He let out a weak laugh and kissed your forehead.

“Love you, goodnight.” He kissed your forehead one more time before pulling you to his chest.

“Goodnight.”

Curses filtered out your mouth at how loud your alarm rang. Scrambling to the side table you practically threw your phone across the room. You buried your face in your pillow and softly groaned. The arm that was still on you moved and you saw Jaehyun stir awake.

“Ugh my head.” He whined moving his hand to cover his eyes.

“Morning handsome.” You chimed.  His head cocked to the side and the surprised was evident on his face.

“Whoa y/n.”

He told you that the last thing he remembered from yesterday was getting into Taeyong’s car. You nodded and informed that Taeyong drove him home and Yuta brought his car. Nothing much happened after, but Taeyong probably has blackmail photos of him now.

A string of apologies spilled out and you hushed them with a kiss.

“Don’t worry, you’re a very cute drunk.” You laughed. “Hyunjin outed you by the way. Christmas?” You waited for the confusion to turn to horror.

“She betrayed me.” There was a comical level of disbelief behind the statement that was followed by a visually nervous movement of the lips. “So, um you probably already said yes because who could say no to her, but if you’re not doing anything would you like to spend the holiday with us?” He asked shyer than he need to be.

You held your chin as if you were giving it some thought before breaking out into a smile.

“I would love to.”

You told Jaehyun to stay in bed and not leave until you said he could while you went to go make breakfast with Hyunjin. Her constant excitement when she sees you in the morning had to be one of your favorite things ever. After she was done brushing her teeth and washing her face, you gave her a piggyback ride to the kitchen. You told her that you needed her art expertise for the breakfast plans of the morning. While you were making pancakes, she was getting the colored icing assorted. You gave her one and she got started drawing a building. She took her time and was meticulous about every detail, so you took your time making the rest of breakfast and decided to try your hand at making Jaehyun’s coffee with the French press no one touched.

Hyunjin announced that she was done, and you applaud her on her work. You topped it off with ‘Congratulations’ written around it and Hyunjin went to retrieve her father. You just finished setting the table when they walked in. Hyunjin ran to you and you both screamed ‘surprised’.

Jaehyun had to hold a hand over his mouth to stop the chuckled that came out. He removed it and a smile was plastered wide. He walked over to you both and scooped his daughter up, kissing her cheek before placing one on your lips.

“How did I get so lucky to have such wonderful and beautiful girls?” The love that poured out the statement made your insides go soft.

Breakfast was filled with its usual banner along with Jaehyun whining about the great betrayal his daughter inflicted on him. You were laughing at how cutely Hyunjin called her dad a softie when you got a text from Haechan.

‘Eta 15 mins.’

“Oh shi- snap I gotta go.” You hissed. You placed your plate in the sink before kissing both Hyunjin and Jaehyun on the cheek. Jaehyun yelled that he was off, so he would pick up Hyunjin. You yelled okay before leaving and hopping in your car.

“Wow twenty minutes late. I thought you stood me up.” Haechan deadpanned while handing you the matcha latte he bought you.

“Sorry. I had to run home to change.” You said apologetically. Haechan sighed, but wrapped his arm around yours regardless.

“Forgiven. Let’s go we have shopping to do.”

You both did your annual Christmas shopping together every year. You both agreed long ago that doing it early and getting it out the way was adulting at its best and became a yearly ritual. You were browsing a store Haechan pulled you into when a yellow polaroid camera caught your attention.

“New hobby?”

“No. Hyunjin said some time ago that she wanted to start taking pictures.” You smiled. “Jaemin might have some competition.”

After another hour of shopping you decided to stop for snacks. You told Haechan about Hyunjin inviting you for Christmas and drunk Jaehyun over your shared cinnabons. As you recounted the night you saw the look in his eyes soften.

“I know me and the guys make you happy, but I’ve never seen you this happy before Y/n. I'm not going to lie other than Lucas, I was probably the most worried about you and Jaehyun, but I'm glad you guys are a thing.” He confessed. Your eyes widened at how sentimental he was since it was out of character for him.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” Your eyes matched his and the air around you was disgustingly sweet.

“Okay gross. Come on we have more shit to buy.” He cleared his throat, tossed the trash, and pulled you to the next store.

 “Someone’s gotta die.” You sighed as you looked at the pile of wrapped boxes in front of you. You spent way more than you needed and refused to look at your bank account. While you sat on the floor and ponder on what friends you could possibly kill to spend less, Ten and a dying Kun walked into the apartment.

“Y/n do me a favor and kill Ten. When I feel my feet again I’ll hide the body.” Kun panted stepping over boxes and crashing onto the couch. You looked between the two and thought about it; Ten’s gift was pretty expensive, before deciding against it.

“What happened?”

“I tricked Kun into going to an intense Zumba class with me.” Ten said proudly.

“You probably shouldn’t be so mean to the person who makes the majority of your food.” You laughed picking up another box to wrap.

“It’s cool. He loves me too much to actually kill me.” Ten waved off.  

“No, I don’t.” Came a muffled reply from Kun, who had his face into the cushion.

You let them do their usual back and forth banner and continued your task. Ten picked though a few boxes and you informed him that you weren’t keeping his or Kun’s in the apartment, so to keep his hands off.

“What did you get Jaehyun and Hyunjin?” Ten asked.

“I got Hyunjin a camera.” You pointed at a small box to his left. “But I didn’t get Jaehyun anything because I don’t know what to get him.” You sighed putting the last wrapped box in the pile.

“Well you still have time. Ask his friends.” Kun offered. You glanced down at your phone and decided that since it was still early in the day that you would make a stop. You turned and kissed Kun’s forehead before jumping to your feet.

“Thanks, favorite mom friend.” You sang and saw the look of betrayal on Ten’s face. “Going out, I’ll be back later. Ten stop trying to kill Kun please.”

When you got in your car you looked down at your outfit and pondered on if you should change. It was similar to the one you wore the first time you entered the corporate building, just winter approved. Shrugging, you turned on the engine and drove. The seriousness of your mission might have been conveyed as confidence as you walked through the lobby and flashed your badge without looking at the receptionist. When you arrived at the top floor Jaehyun’s secretary, who thought you were the cutest thing, told you that they were hiding out in conference room two.

Knocking only once you entered the room and was welcomed with shocked faces. You walked up to the round table and sat yourself down. The atmosphere was tense and ominous.

“I need your help.” You stated simply.

“This is terrifying. Please continue.” Sicheng implored. You glanced at them and pouted, successfully ending the tension.

“I need help figuring out what to get Jaehyun for Christmas.” You whined slipping down in your chair.

“You could have texted.” Johnny snickered.

“I have a lot of time on my hands today.” You waved him off.

“Sorry Y/n we’re not much help.” Taeyong sighed. “Jaehyun never really wants anything. It’s a struggle every year for us.”

“One year I asked him what he wanted and he said my love. I almost punched him in the face, Johnny had to hold me back.” Doyoung rubbed his temples obviously irritated.

You groaned and let your head hit the marble table. You were a bit disappointed that they didn’t have an answer for you, but happy that you weren’t the only one suffering. You were thinking about possible gifts to get him whilst visualizing how scared Johnny must have been when he had to hold a rage filled Doyoung back, when Taeil offered some advice.

“Simple is best when it comes to Jaehyun. He's the type that prefers to give than receive.”

You left as disheartened as you came and groaned at how slow the day was going by. Since you didn’t have anything better to do you drove to Jaehyun’s place and waited for him and Hyunjin to get back.

It was a weird feeling, letting yourself into the empty house. Bored, you went around turning on all the lights you and Hyunjin put up and went to get coffee and hot chocolate brewing for them since it was freezing outside. You made yourself tea and took a seat on one of the stools. You were mindlessly browsing through amazon when the front door opened.

“Y/n!” Hyunjin called when she entered the kitchen. She was submerged in her puffer jacket and looked like a marshmallow.

“Hyunjin!” You yelled back, getting down from your chair to help her out the jacket. “Jaehyun!” You yelled when he entered the kitchen as well. He laughed at your silliness and sent Hyunjin to change out of her uniform. You told her that you would have her hot chocolate ready for her when she came back.

“How was your day?” Jaehyun asked as he handed you the bag of marshmallows. You told him about the shopping adventure and confessed that you stopped at his office to ask the guys about ideas for a gift for him, but turned out with nothing. So, deciding to cut out the middleman you asked Jaehyun what he wanted for Christmas.

“Umm, I don’t really want anything.” He declared after giving it some serious thought.

You saw why Doyoung almost punched him.

“Hyunjin, sweetie!” You shouted, turning to go find her. She had just exited her room when you scooped her up.

“What should I get your dad for Christmas?” You asked as you slowly traveled down the hall.

She thought about it with the same serious matter as her father before confidently saying she didn’t know. You stopped dead in your tracks and fake wept into her chest.

“Oh no.” She said and started petting your head. “He doesn’t like getting gifts, so when I ask he says my love is enough.” She pouted. You wiped your fake tear and told her that was very cute.

“What do you want?” She questioned suddenly as you continued down the hall.

“All the kisses on the cheek in the world.” You said with no hesitation.

“I can do that!” She smiled and gave you an early gift. You melted at how cute she was.

Jaehyun had her drink ready on the table when you arrived back in the kitchen, you placed her down and she ran to it. Jaehyun handed you a cup that he prepared for you and you thanked him.

“Did you get any help from the bean?” He smirked.

“You’re enjoying my suffering a bit too much. I might mess around and get you nothing.” You threatened.

“That would be preferred.” He retorted sipping on his coffee. Thoroughly done with him, you placed down your drink and did the same to his before chasing him. With the help of Hyunjin you cornered him and hung onto him. Hyunjin returned back to her drink feeling parched while you hugged Jaehyun.

“Give me something to go on.” You mumbled softly into his chest.

“God why are you so cute.” He smiled. “Okay. Something practical and simple that I could use daily if I wanted too, but has a hint of you.” He smoothed out your back.

“Thanks, I can work with that.”

“Christmas sex.” Jaemin announced. You and your friends were hanging out at Mark and Haechan’s apartment for the evening; surrounded by assorted snacks and Mark’s playlist softly playing in the background. You were laying down, head resting on Lucas’ back.

“Jaemin isn’t allowed to speak for the duration of the night.” You declared.

“I got to agree with him though.” Haechan added.

“And just like that Haechan has lost the ability to speak.” You sighed. “I had that thought for half a second before I murdered it.” You confessed.

“There’s one thought you haven’t brutally murdered yet.” Mark said. You shifted your head to look at him and bit your lip.

“Yeah.” You muttered. “But other things have to go with it.”

“Not necessarily true; it’s more about the moment than anything else.” Jeno advised.

There was a collection of confused faces and Mark and Jeno told them if they didn’t know then not to worry about it.

You stared at the ceiling as your mind ran around letting the side conversation fade.

“Okay. Haechan lets go.” You sprung up suddenly and dragged him out the apartment before anyone could ask.

“Y/n what the hell?” Haechan had his best ‘I'm judging face’ on as you held up ties.

“Navy or black?” You asked.

“You dragged me to the Men’s Warehouse to get the lamest gift ever and you expect me to help you.” He hissed. You looked at him and nodded.

“Navy.” He sighed putting the black one back on its rack.

You smiled and went to find an associate.

The older gentleman was very kind and patient with you as you drew the design for a tie clip that you wanted to special order.

A simple gold bar with a moon crescent on the end.

[gaycrouton]

You're wonderful. I love the viagra fic and I want more please🍆🍆🍆

Aaaaaaannnnnnddddd THE FINAL PART IS HERE! Thank you so much for your support! And another thanks to @admiralty-xfd for being my love!

Side note, not to toot my own horn, but this is spicy

Clinical Detatchment II

She’d been doing good, in fact too good, at shutting her mind off to ignore any sounds coming from the other room. She tried to read her case files, get some work done, she even meditated. Aside from a few gasps, she was pretty confident she was doing a good job. Which is why the knocking startled her so badly.

Scully glanced at her watch, amazed by Mulder’s stamina, when she realized the lifetime that had passed had only been six minutes. Walking to the door, instead of relief, she was met with the biggest kicked puppy dog look she’d ever seen from him - pouty lip, glossy eyes, and all.

“Scully, I can’t focus because I’m anxious and I’m scared and I can’t get out of my head, but I don’t want to go to the doctor,” he rambled in a single breath. 

Sighing, she opened the door for him to come in and he waddled in holding the towel to his still prominent bulge. 

“What if you tried watching TV, just charge the Pay-Per-View to your card?” she asked.

“No TV,” he replied, his intonation implying he’d considered that option as well.

She was already mid-scoff when she looked around the room and realized that he was right. Of course they’d be in the one motel in America without a television. 

“What do I do?” he asked in one of the most desperate tones she’d ever heard. She couldn’t blame him, if the situation were reversed, she’d be in a panic by now.

“First, I want you to take a deep breath. You need to calm down,” she commanded, taking a deep breath to lead by example and repeating the motion to get him to mimic her.

“I would have tasted it if it were too high of a dose right?” he asked.

“Not necessarily,” she replied honestly. His brows furrowed and he took a step back, pacing lightly out of stress.

“I’m sorry, I know this is awkward and please don’t think less of me. I just really don’t want to lose my dick,” he confessed, looking at her apologetically.

“Mulder, you’re not going to lose your dick,” she replied. “How does it look now? Did being jostled aggravate it?”

“Is that what you call it, Scully? Being jostled?” he teased before looking down, taking the towel away from himself just a millimeter to try and peek. 

“Mulder, there’s no need to be shy right now,” she reminded him.

He looked at her with chagrin before acknowledging that. Wordlessly, he pulled the towel away and the motion caused his penis to bob once against his stomach before resuming its normal stance at attention. 

She took a step closer and grabbed it lightly, moving it gently to look at it fully. “Fuck, Scully,” he gasped in surprise and something that sounded much more relief than displeasure.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she bit back a gasp. When she’d brushed it with her palm she undoubtedly felt him twitch in her hand. “It still looks normal,” she assessed before taking a step back. 

As she did this, she noticed the way his eyes had been locked on her face hungrily, something she’d been too distracted to notice before. His eyes were dilated and his jaw was clenched, a sight that might appear like anger to others - but looked like unadulterated lust to her. 

Scully swallowed and, aside from his gaze flickering to the hollow of her throat, he came back to himself and looked away, covering himself once more. “Why don’t you call one of your 1-900 numbers?” she asked.

“First of all, you shouldn’t know about those. Second of all, I cancelled my accounts a few months back,” he replied.

“Why?”

He shrugged non-committedly and murmured “I didn’t feel like I needed them anymore.”  If she was gauging correctly, he looked shy at this admittance. She knew for a fact he wasn’t with anyone, so the timing just felt oddly coincidental to when they started hanging out after work more often. Part of her wanted to think it was directly related to their increased time together, but the rational side told her it was more likely that he just didn’t have as much time for it.

“You know, some say when the prostate is stimulated just right that orgasm is almost involuntary-”

“No judgement, but I don’t think the first time I want something in my ass is under these circumstances,” he deadpanned.

She wiped her face as if to rid herself of her stress and contemplated the situation. Really contemplated the situation. They’d been teetering on this line between being platonic and more for a while now. That back massage she’d given him a few weeks ago involved way more touching than necessary, him kissing her cheek was a given after a night hanging out and cheek had slowly been wandering into side of the mouth territory, and she’d dare to go so far as to say they’d even been cuddling without calling it cuddling during movie nights. 

All in all, their platonic relationship was a camel with two thousand straws on its back. This would be the one to break it.

She let out another long breath before looking him in the eye. “Mulder?”

He met her gaze and furrowed his brow, alarmed at her severity. “What?”

“I want you to know I’m only saying this because I trust you and if we want this can eternally remain a secret,” she started. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with prying eyes, trying to decipher her meaning. Keeping her hands firmly planted at her sides, lest she give way to her nerves, she stated, “If you think there’s anything I could do to help, I’m willing.”

His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened, scanning her to make sure he was understanding her correctly. “Scully, I could never ask-”

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering,” she clarified.

He continued to stand there stunned, still holding the cloth against himself,  and she started to feel self-conscious. “You even mentioned earlier in your room that you were afraid you’d come in front of me. And earlier before at the restaurant you seemed to get flustered when I touched yo-”

“Yeah, Scully. I’m obviously attracted to you, but I don’t want you to do anything like that out of pity,” he explained. He paused for a minute before adding, “And I don’t want you to think I came in here under the assumption you’d help.”

She sighed and wished anything could be easy or simple. “I’d never think that, Mulder. And I’m not doing it out of pity. Again, I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t comfortable with the idea. You know me better than that.”

Her final words seemed to really strike something in him and a look of understanding started to cross his face. “But I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you and your condition either. Just because I find you attractive doesn’t mean I would ever expolit-”

“Really?” he asked, astonished, his sincerity almost laughable with the straining erection pressing the thin fabric held in front of him.

“W-what?” she asked, feeling like the room was a hundred degrees hotter than it had been earlier.

“You’re attracted to me?”

She rolled her eyes at how juvenile this all was. “Mulder, I think we both know we’re attracted to each other,” she declared honestly, unable to meet his eyes.

He was silent for a moment before chuckling lightly. “I never thought it would come out this way,” he stated quietly, almost to himself.

“Part of me isn’t surprised,” she admitted with a small smile. Conventionalities had yet to find a place in their partnership. 

“I know this,” he gestured to his erection, “-says differently, but I’m nervous. I feel like a teenager again,” he laughed.

She offered him a reassuring smile to let him know the feeling was mutual. “It’s just me,” she whispered shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” he murmured. 

She took in a deep breath, feeling her heart continue to beat rapidly in her chest. The words were out there now, but that was only the beginning. “Do you think I could help you?” she asked, posing the question to him with a lilt.

It wasn’t meant to be seductive, but her question caused him to lick his lips and his eyes to roam to her chest before they shot respectfully to the wall art. “Can I be honest?” he asked.

“I’d be offended if you weren’t,” she replied.

He chuckled as he raised a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I’d always thought we’d take things slow.”

“We still can,” she told him in earnest, playing with the nail of her middle finger.

He cocked an eyebrow at her and stated uncertainty, “How?”

“Well…” she thought and looked around as if inspiration for how to get your partner off would manifest in the wallpaper. She was rewarded by an idea coming from a glance at the motel phone. “You talked to those women to get off before.”

“Yeah…?” he questioned, uncertain of her intent with that statement.

“What if…you talked to me?” she asked coquettishly.

It was a minute gesture, but she saw him squeeze himself through the hand towel. “So, we talk while I…?” He made a gesture to his crotch and she nodded. “It feels vulgar to jack off in front of you.”

Deciding honesty might help the situation, she admitted, “I wouldn’t be appalled if that’s what you think.” He cocked an eyebrow in surprise and she did the same in response. “But, what if for now, you sat on the bed and I sat in the chair by the adjoining door facing away from you?”

He nodded in understanding before meeting her eyes. “Are you sure?”

She nodded before walking over, grabbing the chair and dragging it to face the corner of the room, realistically only ending up three feet at most away from Mulder, but it gave the illusion of privacy. 

She sat down as she heard him get comfortable on the bed. They stilled for a moment in their positions, as if both really realizing what was going to happen. The only sounds in the room left were their pounding hearts and their shallow breaths. “I’ve never done this before,” she laughed nervously, breaking the silence.

“We don’t hav-”

“I want to,” she interrupted. “I promise.” She did too, despite her nerves, the thought of getting him off was one she’d entertained on countless lonely nights and the idea of finally fulfilling the fantasy was turning her on.

Deciding to begin, she asked. “So, what do you and the call girls usually talk about?”

“Um, sexual fantasies normally. Just like, verbally acting them out,” he admitted with hesitancy.

“Your fantasies specifically or one either of you just makes up?” 

“Mine. I’d tell her what I liked and she’d improv from there,” he explained.

Curiosity was burning in her as to if he was already touching himself. Was he waiting? Was he looking at her? “Tell me one.”

“You promise you won’t get mad?” he asked.

She wanted to send him a curious look at his choice of wording, but didn’t want to break his trust by looking. “Yes.”

“Um, usually, I’d ask her to pretend to be my coworker,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” she breathed. She’d never imagined his sexual habits as a conduit for relief of their own sexual tension, but the newfound knowledge stirred something deep inside. “What else would you tell her?”

“I’d describe you,” he admitted, the sound of his voice resonating slightly differently and she realized he was, indeed, facing her. “Your hair, your face, your body type.”

“Give me an example. What would you say to her,” she requested. She just wanted to hear him say it.

“She has short, auburn hair - enough to grab but not enough to get in the way; she’s beautiful, stunningly so, with intense blue eyes, plump red lips, and an aquiline nose; she’s very short-”

She let out a little huff of laughter and he paused to chuckle alongside her. “As I was saying, she’s very short, with a very lithe build - athletic but graceful.”

She was stunned at the delicacy and precision of his words, clearly all of the sentiments expressed were ones he was confident in and it gave her a boost of confidence. “What am I wearing?” Present tense. First person point of view.  He recognized that change as well and the tension in the room started to become more comfortable as they got into it.

“Your usual business clothes, much like the ones you’re wearing now.” She was about to ask another question when he added, “But underneath you’re wearing a matching black lace bra and panty set, and when I’m taking it off you tell me you wore it for me.”

A chill went down her spine as she remembered what she’d put on this morning. Had he seen somehow? The coincidence had her spooked, but thrilled at the same time. 

“Where are we?” she asked.

“The office,” he answered quickly, obviously already picturing it vividly in his mind. She wasn’t sure if he was making the next part up just to hear what she’d say or if this was really how it went. “That’s usually all I say before she takes over.”

There was a gruffness to his voice that told her he was undoubtedly touching himself, the gentle sounds of the bed moving underneath his shifting hips signifying the same. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in the basement, in the very same office they’d been in only a few days ago, where seven years of flirty comments, longing gazes, and sexual tension permeated the space.

“Okay, but let me know if I’m not doing it right,” she nodded, adjusting herself in her seat while trying to ignore the dull ache in her groin.

“I highly doubt that’s possible,” he murmured.

“But I just need to know one thing before starting,” she stipulated.

She heard the movements stop as he answered, “Of course, what is it?”

“In your fantasies, am I the instigator, or is it you?” she asked softly, biting her lips as she waited for an answer. He was silent for a moment and she could hear his mind whirring with the possibilities that came from both ideas. 

“You.”

She’d imagined both so many times that she would have been ready for either. The implication of his choice was obvious; her speaking as the instigator made it more for her rather than making it sound like she was just pandering to his desires. She hoped he knew that wasn’t what this was.

“Good choice,” she complimented before clearing her throat.

She’d truly never done anything like this before in her life. The only thing comparable was her journal that had seen glimpses of a really good fantasy or a recalled dream. That’s how she’d have to do this - just act like she was reading from her private diary.

“It’s Tuesday morning and you’ve been in a mood all morning,” she began. He chuckled and she immediately felt her cheeks redden. “I told you I hadn’t done this before.”

He stifled his laughter quickly to reassure, “No, no. I’m sorry. I just found it funny that even in a fantasy I’m brooding and morose.”

Comforted that it wasn’t her he was laughing at she smiled and defended herself, “May I continue, Mulhder.” She drew out his name in a more sensuous tone than she’d ever used in his presence before and she heard him agree readily.

“It’s Tuesday morning and I can tell something’s off. I’ve been looking across the desk at you since you came in and I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong and every time I ask, you just say you’re fine.”

As she mentally planned out her fantasy she blushed at the fact she was revealing quite a bit about her secret wants. Too late now. “It takes a few hours of prompting before you make a snide comment about me going out with another man.”

There was an abrupt halt then too, and he spoke up again, “Scully, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t-”

She could hear him getting upset at the idea of her fantasy including another man and she smiled at the meta nature of it all, “Let me finish.”

The sounds started up softly again and she took it as a sign to continue. “When you mention it, I feel indignant. I’d spent the night touching myself to the thought of you and I woke up this morning double checking myself in the mirror and hoping you’d like what you’d see, and the fact you would think I could look at another man pisses me off.” The absolute honestly of the words leaving her mouth burned, her mouth felt like a loaded gun and her face felt like it was on fire. But the honesty was erotic.

Mulder thought so too. At these new words she heard a clear as day moan escape his lips, though it sounded like he tried to silence it. “I ask you what you’re talking about and it becomes clear someone said something stupid to you to get you riled up and it worked. I’m pissed you’d believe it so readily, but when I look at you I can see you’d rolled your sleeves up, your jaw is set, and you look absolutely jealous. Possessive even, and it turns me on instantly. I try to meet your eye with a leveled glance and try to ignore the fact that I can feel myself getting wet.”

He inhaled quickly and his breath comes out trembling. “I want to play with you a little bit, see how much you’re willing to admit you’re jealous, but I don’t think you will. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me now that you’re thinking of some nameless agent and imagining his hands on me. You’re thinking of him touching me, fucking me, making me come, and it pisses you off because you know it should be you. You know that no one could pleasure me better than you could.” Now it was her turn to take a deep, shuddering breath. She was staring at the corner of the wall intently, the depressed line where two surfaces meet, as she spoke. The comfort of not having to face him, yet hearing the effect her words had on him was painfully sexy.

“I ask what you mean and you confirm my suspicions. You overheard some guy make a comment about taking me out and you misconstrued it. But you’re not covering your feelings up at all. You don’t say it’s none of your business, you don’t say I can do whoever I want, you don’t say you don’t care, because you know that would all be a lie.”

She’d unabashedly squeezed her legs together to relieve some friction, but it wasn’t enough. She could hear the now rhythmic shifting of the bed, and with the hope he was too distracted to notice, without moving her arm too much she slid her hand in between her legs and up her skirt. Her knuckles brushed against her damp panties and she sucked in a breath and hoped Mulder didn’t hear it. She quickly tries to mask it as her starting another sentence and resumed her narration. “Even though I’m a little upset with you, I can’t stop focusing on how sexy you look. I stand up abruptly and I can tell you think I’m going to leave and you sit up in your seat. For a moment I think you’re going to try and stop me and the idea sends another wave of arousal rushing through me. But you stay in your seat and watch me like a hawk as I walk around the desk so that I’m right beside you, leaning back against the wood.”

She fingers the elastic on the side of her underwear before pulling it to the side and letting her index and ring finger press onto her swollen clit. Her body jolts once and her head rolls to the side. There’s a slickness to the sound of Mulder’s masturbation now and she knows it’s working. For both of them. “When I ask you if you seriously think I’m going out with someone else and you’re shocked. Before you’d been empathizing with the man, understanding what it’s like to want me and you were just jealous he acted on it. Now I’m making you empathize with me and you know me better than to think I’d be fraternizing with some other guy after how close we’d been getting recently.”

“Scully?” he prompted, his voice strained.

“Hmm?” she replied, not trusting her own.

“Are you touching yourself?”

She froze, her fingers just starting to press into herself as she realized she’d been caught. She was about to apologize before he requested. “Can I see you?”

His words weighed heavy in the room as she contemplated them, both of them eager to see what her next action would be. She took her fingers away, slightly surprised at the amount of wetness coating them as her underwear snapped back into place. She stood up and adjusted the chair so it was facing Mulder, and slightly closer to the bed too. She didn’t risk a look at him in fear of chickening out before she sat down. But as she slid into the chair she had to suppress a moan.

He wasn’t lying on the bed. He was sitting on the edge, his feet planted on the floor as he faced her.

He’d been watching her the entire time.

His cock was wet, thick, and swollen in his hand, which hadn’t stopped its rhythmic pumping. Encouraged by his brazenness, she slipped out of her blazer, leaving herself in her thin blouse, letting it fall to the ground next to her, and rose up slightly just to hitch her skirt over her hips. Then she reclined again, spread her legs, and resumed her prior actions.

She saw Mulder mouth the word ‘fuck’ as his hand sped up, and she had no doubt the look in her eye was anything other than lascivious. “W-where was I?” she asked.

“You were mentioning how close we’ve been getting lately,” he informed.

They locked eyes and smiled at the irony of that statement contrasted with their current situation. “Right. You start apologizing and I can tell you’re relieved, but you also feel bad for jumping to conclusions.” She swirls around her clit proficiently enough to make her gasp and jerk slightly against the chair and she saw Mulder’s eyes hungrily devour the motion. 

“Then what do you say?” he asked, adding a second hand below himself to cup his balls, fondling them with precision.

“I lean down close to you tell you I could never be with anyone else because all I think about is you and how much I want you, fuck,” she gasped as she started feeling the beggining twinges of an orgasm. She was reaching the point of inevitability and she couldn’t help but grind her hips against her hand. 

Scully let her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling, not saying anything as she began swirling her clit more fervently, chasing her climax. “Yeah, that’s it, Scully,” he praised, his voice husky and gruff.

Feeling guilty she was on the brink when this was intended to help Mulder, she forced her head back down to look at him, though her hand’s actions didn’t slow. Her voice was uneven and strained as she tried to talk through her arousal. “Hearing me say that was all you needed and you jump up from your seat and grab me, kissing me like your life depended on it. I’m overwhelmed with feeling your arms around me, the way your tongue feels against mine, and how your hands feel on my body.”

She’d spent the past ten minutes working them up, and with one more sentence, he made her come undone.

“God, I want you.”

Her jaw dropped open as waves of pleasure radiated through her entire body. She screamed his name as her fingers mercilessly worked her clit to draw out her orgasm. Her legs went from being rigid, to squeezing her hand between her thighs, to quivering in quick five second intervals. 

When the orgasm subsided, he was pumping furiously and looked absolutely drunk with pleasure. Even though she’d just come, every cell in her body was on fire and craving more. 

The pretense they were hiding behind, the divulgence of a mutual fantasy, was undeniably sexy, but in this moment it didn’t feel like enough. She’d spent years fantasizing about them over and over again, it would never get old, but she fantasized because she felt they were things that could only happen in a dream.

She didn’t want to fantasize when the reality dangled its potential right in front of her face.

“Mulder,” she whispered, his name tumbling wordlessly from her bitten lips.

“Hm?” he replied, slowing down just ever so slightly. 

“I know you wanted to take it slow, but haven’t we waited long enough?” she questioned, her chest rising and falling as she tried to stabilize her breath.

“Are you sure?” he replied, halting his motion and searching her eyes for the hesitation he’d never find. 

“In your fantasies, am I the instigator, or is it you?”

“You.”

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve and stood up. She locked eyes with him and maintained eye contact as she sauntered over to him and hooked a leg over either side of his hips on the mattress, relieved when his hands came to her thighs to stabilize her before roaming the skin experimentally. The whole time he stared at her with so much reverence she felt like Aphrodite incarnated. 

Regardless of her boldness, the last ten minutes included, and despite the fact she could feel their arousals all but straining to touch the other, the absolute intimacy of this situation was not lost on her. This was really going to happen. She was nestled on Mulder’s lap, so close she could smell his aftershave from this morning and she could feel the warmth of his body head radiating onto her, and she started to feel her heart race with something other than arousal.

She raised her hands up, ignoring the way they were trembling, and cupped his cheeks, taking a moment to stroke her thumb against the skin textured by his five o’clock shadow. Her eyes roamed his face as she let her thumbs dip low enough to stroke his full bottom lip. He surprised her, eliciting a gasp, as he pressed a kiss to the wandering digits.

She looked up to meet his eyes and saw adoration reflected in their depths. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered, the words ripped from her lips without her giving thought to them.

A humbled smile broke out from beneath her thumbs as she felt one of his hands travel up her back to rest on the nape of her neck, his index finger instinctively tracing the scar he didn’t need to see to locate. Her breath hitched at the contact and, in the same breath, she lowered her hands to his shoulders and pressed her mouth against his. 

The timidity that may have been present under other circumstances was far removed as a result of the mutual masturbation session that had just taken place and the suffocating desire that was enshrouding them both. As soon as their lips touched their tongues followed suit and he pulled her tightly against him so that they were flush together.

Her hands started at his shoulders, but they quickly migrated south to roam the expanse of his back, enjoying the curves and contours of his muscles under her touch. Widening her legs, she sank down so that his erection nestled itself into the vee of her thighs, rubbing against the soaked fabric of her panties. He groaned against her lips and bucked upwards in a languid scooping motion that made her gasp.

He surprised her by hooking his arms under her legs and standing up, bringing her along with him. She let out a huff of aroused amusement at his eagerness before he turned around and laid her down in the middle of the bed, crawling on top of her as soon as she hit the mattress. He took a moment to rid himself of his shirt and she followed suit, unbuttoning her shirt as quickly as she could with her excitement hindering her precision. He saw what she was doing and started at the bottom hem edge of her shirt, unbuttoning simultaneously in the other direction until their hands met in the middle so she could arch her back and rid herself of the garment. She went one step further and lifted her hips so she could shimmy out of her skirt, tossing it off the bed before repositioning her legs against Mulder on either side.

He placed his hands greedily on her sides and ran them up and down her torso and all over her abdomen like he could commit it to memory by touching her enough. His eyes drank her in and she felt his hips roll against hers, pressing arousal to arousal sensuously. “Black lace,” he murmured with an appreciative grin as he used his hands to cup her breasts and tease her nipples through the thin fabric.

“Sometimes when I’m getting dressedI think about what you’d see if if were you undressing me. If you’d like what you saw. I didn’t know how right I was until earlier,” she admitted, arching her back and scooting so she could press herself more firmly against him and undulate her hips to match his movements.

He paused and a thoughtful look passed his face. “You thought of me when you put this on?” he asked.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip as she watched him. He smiled like this was the best news he’d ever received. He moved one hand to the valley of her breasts and teasingly toyed with the clasp. “As much as I love your taste in lingerie,” as he said this he unclipped the middle and it came apart, her breasts shifting out of the confines. Then moving his mouth over where the clasp had been, continued with, “- I want to see all of you.”

She helped him remove the bra, tossing it off the bed before his head descended and he latched his mouth directly onto her nipple, sucking, teasing, and nipping before diverting the attention to the other one. Each flick of his tongue sent a ripple of pleasure down her spine, goosebumps erupting over her skin as she clutched the bedsheets. When he switched his attention from breast to breast, he’d pepper little kisses all across her sternum and whisper half complete statements like “so beautiful” and “can’t believe.”

Through her haze of arousal she remembered what started this all and figured they shouldn’t wait anymore. “M-Mu-lder,” she whimpered, squeezing his hips with her thighs to get his attention.

“Hmm?” he hummed with a nipple still in his mouth, the wetness heightening the pleasure the vibrations caused.

“I want you, now,” she moaned, grabbing at his shoulders to pull him up.

He grunted enthusiastically and lifted himself off her. She missed the contact, but was quickly rewarded with the sight of him shimmying out of his boxers before crawling back on top of her. 

His face was looming over hers as their bodies pressed flush together and it was another moment that broke through the haze of lust. It was as if the moment dawned on them both and they couldn’t help but smile. She lifted a hand up and brushed his hair back as she beamed at him, trying not to ruin the heat of the moment by getting teary eyed. They didn’t have to communicate to know the gravity of this moment, that everything they’d ever done had been leading up to this moment. 

She leaned up and kissed him sweetly on the lips as she reached in between them to find his erection and guide it to her entrance. He hissed at the contact and watched her reaction as she angled her hips to allow his tip to sink in an inch or two.

Mulder’s inside me.

It wasn’t even all the way yet, but the simple fact it was happening excited and thrilled her. Mulder eased himself up into a position where he had more control without ever slipping out of her. “You’ll let me know if I hurt you, right?”

She raised her legs up and hooked them around his back so that he had easier access, wrapping her arms around his neck at the same time. “I know I won’t have to,” she whispered, placing a kiss to his lips before pressing her heel into his back in encouragement.

Slowly, he eased in inch by inch, giving her time to adjust to his size. Her body tensed occasionally at the intrusion and the slight pain from being stretched so much, and, just as she predicted, Mulder took her hitched breath or the tensing of her muscles as a sign to pause until she relaxed again. During the brief intermissions, he’d kiss her mouth or play with her nipples, anything to help ease the dull pain.

But when he was completely in and she was able to move her hips a bit in exploration, the dull pain began turning into pleasure. Pleasure that Mulder had undoubtedly been feeling excruciatingly well this whole time if the sweat on his brow and the look of rapture on his face were any indication.

“I’m good,” she breathed out huskily. “You can move.”

He settled into a better position where he still had control but where their pelvises could have more contact. He began at a slow, languid pace, analyzing her face for any sign of discomfort and using it as a gauge for if he could speed up.

In no time, he was snapping his hips back and forth with his thrusts - the entire bed rocking with the momentum. She’d never felt so full and satisfied in her entire life and for what felt like the first time - sex wasn’t partially performative. Not once did she make a sound just to let Mulder know she was having a good time. No - these moans and whimpers continually falling from her mouth felt like they were being ripped from her. Involuntary reactions to an overflow of overwhelming lust and satisfaction all caused by him.

Mulder’s face was a mask of complete and utter bliss. Not once did his eyes leave her body; they roamed from her face to the way her breasts bounced on her chest to her glistening arousal as he bucked against her. “You’re s-so beau-tiful, Scully,” he praised with struggling breath.

“So are you,” she replied with a quick exhale, smiling at him. Watching his muscles work under his skin as he moved was extremely erotic.

She felt the stirrings of a second orgasm building, but she knew it would be harder in this position. “Mulder, I wanna be on top,” she requested ineloquently.

He smiled at her and let out a full blown chuckle as she squealed at his quick movement. With amazing dexterity, he rolled to the side onto his back while keeping her latched to him with his hands on her hips. In a whirlwind of motion, she was on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, as he laid on his back.

The visual stimulation alone was almost enough to send her over the edge. His engorged and throbbing cock was still buried to the hilt inside of her while he looked up at her in awe. It was empowering and she’d never felt more attractive. 

She adjusted her knees into a better position before she began rocking, lifting herself up and down his shaft without letting him fall out. She threw her head back at the sensation and raised her hands to cup her breasts, playing with the weight and tweaking her nipples to heighten her pleasure. She gasped and jerked when she felt his hands rest on her hips, letting one hand dip lower so his thumb could circle her clit as she rode him.

“Fuck, please,” she gasped, picking up the speed and enjoying the lewd sounds of their sexes joining reverberating off the motel walls. 

Intermittently, she’d stop bouncing in favor of sinking down as much as she could and squirming on his lap, enjoying the way she could feel his whole cock inside her and how his tip pressed against her walls so deeply. Whenever she did this, he’d pick up where she left off and buck his hips upwards, making her bounce slightly on his crotch.

One of the times she did this, he started swirling her clit furiously and she knew she was done for. “Muldermuldermulderpleasedon’tstop,” she rambled as she felt her body climbing the peak of pleasure, excitement building at the prospect of jumping over the edge and falling into the depths of ecstasy. 

He could see it in her face and became relentless, swirling her swollen nub mercilessly as her ground her hips against his, keeping her firmly pressed against him by grabbing her hip with his free hand. “That’s it, Scully. I want to feel you come,” he growled.

Something about the way he said her name, mixed with the overwhelming sensations made her second orgasm roar through her. She all but collapsed on him, desperate for as much contact with him as possible as she shook and gyrated her body to prolong her climax. She could see stars and heard a ringing in her ears from the intensity, and she groaned in pleasure when she felt him start thrusting erratically. There was so much intensity that she felt his hips lifting off the bed before she felt him spill inside her as he cried her name into her hair.

She shakily chuckled as she fell against him, not wanting to break the contact yet, but too spent to have the energy to do anything other than lay on top of him. She rose and fell with his uneven breathing, and her eyes fluttered shut as his hand came up to stroke her back tenderly.

“That was-” he began.

“Better than any fantasyI’ve ever had,” she finished, lifting a hand to rest next to her face on his chest.

“You can say that again,” he laughed, kissing the top of her head.

She was so soothed by his warmth and his fingers making lazy patterns on her skin that she never wanted to move. She distantly felt his breath even out and his cock softening inside of her as she felt sleep start to-

Wait.

She rolled off of him so that she instead lay flush parallel to him, still in his arms, as she took a look down. “Mulder, your erection’s gone,” she exclaimed in relief.

He craned his head to look and relief that he wouldn’t have to go get an operation on his penis shone through his eyes. He turned his neck and placed a kiss to her lips, pulling back only to say, “I have a really good doctor.”

[alexanderlightweight]

Home is You

This is for @alexmanesairstream! Thank you for the prompts, I sort of muddled them both together and then it got a little away from me!  Hope you enjoy it!

Michael was fraught with tension and he scowled at his beer bottle, knowing from the mental buzz that sparked like static electrify across his brain that Isobel was fast losing her patience.

“Look, Michael if it’s making you this worked up just go see him.”

“He clearly doesn’t want to see me.  Do you think it’s payback?”  Michael asked and ran his hands through his hair, trying not to think of all the worst case scenarios and failing.

“What I think clearly doesn’t matter,” Isobel said.  “Seeing as I keep on telling you to just go over to his place and talk to him in person.”

“We’ve been talking.  Talking is all we’ve been doing for a couple months now.  This was supposed to be the first step.  Sort of like a date.”  It felt odd to admit, but it was something that had been building for months.  A relationship built on trust and respect and not just desire.  It was supposed to be the beginning of a relationship that Michael had been craving for over a decade.  It was just like life to give him a taste of what he could have, then rip it away.

If this was Alex once again walking away from him, Michael was going to break and it was going to be explosive.  

“Sort of like a date?”  Isobel asked with little sympathy and then she scoffed, “if it’s only sort of a date then what does it even matter?”

If Michael had just a little less control, then the glass in the room would have shattered.  As it was, her wine glass gave a delicate little hum of warning and Isobel winced before setting the glass down.  “Sorry.  Look, Michael you have to figure this out.  Don’t let this be another misunderstanding or accident.  I realize you’re scared,” he shot her a glare that didn’t even phase her.  “But you both being scared is part of what made this take so long to get here.  Granted you both had different reasons for dragging your feet, but at some point you both need to stop making the same mistakes.”  

“If you’re wrong,” Michael warned, unable to finish voicing what he feared the most.

Isobel rolled her eyes and gave him a tiny mental push, “go Michael.  You don’t want to know what I’m planning if you two don’t manage to work this out by Monday.”  

Michael conceded defeat gracefully -with a grumble and the overexaggerated drag of his boots against Isobel’s floor.

-

Michael hadn’t been to Alex’s cabin very often.  The times he had been there, Valenti or someone else had also been present.  It was both exhilarating and neausiating to be approaching what he knew was Alex’s home and sanctuary by himself.  He wanted this to work.  More than anything, he wanted their relationship to be feasible and healthy and something that wouldn’t shatter as easily as bone.  Max may have been able to heal physical wounds and Isobel could root out mental and emotional ones, but not one out of their motley family could heal him if tonight went wrong.

Of course, it went wrong.

The first thing Michael noticed was that the cabin was lit and smoke was coming from the chimney.  It had been cooling down at night, but Alex would never have a fire going if he’d actually planned on meeting Michael for dinner like he’d promised.  Turning to corner to park and seeing Valenti’s car only made caused his mood to darken and agitation to churn in his stomach.  

From an intellectual point of view, Michael understood that what Alex and Valenti were working on was important, he also knew that a part -though not all- of Alex’s dedication to what was a rather thankless task, was because of him.  From an emotional standpoint, Michael wasn’t so understanding.  Especially if Alex’s reason for standing him up was because he was working with Valenti.  That shit wasn’t acceptable.  

It was with wild energy coursing through him that he unlocked Alex’s door with his powers, barely noticing that the door made a solid thunk as it opened.  The inside of the cabin was surprisingly dark, the only light besides the fireplace was a flickering lamp in the kitchen.

What did surprise him was a loud curse and then the sound of something being knocked over and then a quieter curse.  Valenti stumbled out from Alex’s bedroom looking like he hadn’t slept in days and his shirt soaked, an empty glass in one hand.

“Geurin?”  Valenti asked with what was clearly genuine surprise, “shit sorry.  I must have fallen asleep.  What are you doing here?”

“Trying to figure out where my errant date was,” Michael drawled, “just what kind of shit did you two find this time?”

Valenti blinked twice and then held up a hand, “give me a second before the interrogation, Guerin.  Actually, let me ask a couple questions first.  What time is it?”

“Past ten,” Michael said and watched as Valenti made his way with ease to the kitchen, grabbing a pot of what was clearly cold coffee and filling the glass in his hand.  The doctor didn’t even hesitate to down it before he rinsed it out and filled it with water that he slipped much more slowly.  

“Right, so I’ve been here... shit.  I got here yesterday, to go over something with Alex.  You said you had a date tonight?”  

“He didn’t mention it?”

“He’s ah...” Valenti sighed, “look I need you to trust me as a doctor okay?”  Michael crossed his arms in front of his chest and shifted his weight.  “Right.  Don’t even know why I thought that might work.  I got here yesterday and Alex was a little under the weather.  I convinced him to rest a little bit and he felt bad enough to agree, only when he woke up again his fever was pretty bad.  He’s not holding down medicine or fluids and his fever is high enough that he’s not making any sense.  He mentioned sending you a message and I gave him his phone, but it’s possible he forgot to send it.”  Valenti paused and took another sip of water, “or even type it out.  Like I said, he’s pretty out of it.”

“He’s sick?  Do we need to get him to a hospital?”  Michael asked, immediately alert despite the fact that he hated hospitals.  He hadn’t been around a human he cared about long enough to be there when they were sick.  He would have been, if it were for Alex, but they’d never had that opportunity.  

“I’d really rather not move him.  I gave him an IV earlier to get some fluids in him and he’s been doing better since then.  Honestly, he just needs rest and someone to look after him and help him out.”  Valenti said and he fixed Michael with a very serious look, “I have to get back to my apartment to rest at some point though.  If he’s not doing better I’ll probably have to take him with me and then to the hospital anyway, I can’t leave him here alone like this.”

“I can stay with him.”  The words were out of his mouth before Michael’s brain had finished registering Valenti’s words but he meant them.

“Guerin,” there was a pause, “you and Max and Isobel don’t get sick.  Alex is, he’s going to need a lot of looking after and a lot of help.”  

Valenti gave him and look that Michael didn’t even try to discern, he just shook his head stubbornly, “I can take care of him.”  

-

The list of things to track about Alex’s condition was long but not overly complicated.  The most important thing was to monitor his temperature and keep track of his fluid intake.  Valenti had been very clear that if anything got worse that Michael was to call him immediately, for once Michael didn’t argue.

Alex’s body was flush with heat, his face too pallid and hair soaked with sweat.  His eyes were glazed over with fever and when he met Michael’s gaze there was little recognition for a few minutes.  Then he seemed to collect himself enough to offer a small smile before he buried himself back into his pillow.

-

Taking care of Alex seemed to mostly be entertaining himself while Alex slept.  Michael hadn’t been sure what to do with himself at first; heating broth that Alex couldn’t quite hold down and texting both Valenti and Isobel updates on how Alex was doing.  She’d offered to come over but he’d been firm in telling her that wasn’t necessary.  Now he found himself pressed against Alex’s side, using his tablet for research and waking Alex up when he felt the other man needed it.  They hadn’t talked much, Alex being either too exhausted or too sick to have a serious conversation.

It took a week for Alex to get back on some semblance of a meal plan.  His body rejected most solid foods and Michael knew it was driving him crazy.  It should have been driving them both crazy but Michael, Michael found a strange sense of peace in looking after Alex.  In the fact that Alex was letting him instead of fighting to do everything himself.  

Michael had only left the cabin twice and that was to grab some of his things and make sure the bunker was sealed tight.

Taking care of Alex while he was sick was one of the most intimate things Michael had ever experienced.  Alex was stubborn and proud but even he knew when to lean on someone else and the fact that he hadn’t insisted Michael leave, hadn’t asked for someone else to see him like this.  It made something in Michael hum and settle happily in his chest, his entropy evening out as though Alex’s breathing and heartbeat were a song that soothed his mind.

It was like they were in their own little world.  Valenti had been called to a nearby hospital for an emergency and since Michael wasn’t sure exactly how Alex felt about anyone else at the moment, he didn’t bother letting anyone besides Isobel knowing what was going on.  

-

“So all it took for you to get along with Kyle was me getting sick?”  Alex teased him, cheeks finally showing some color that wasn’t from a fever and Michael rolled his eyes while using his powers to tuck the blanket around Alex.  

“I can tolerate Valenti when he’s useful, if I have to.”  Michael admitted sourly, “this isn’t going to become a common thing, Alex.  I wasn’t going to risk you dying or something and he’s the expert on human illnesses.”

“So what you’re saying,” Alex drawled with a glint of mischief in his eyes that made Michael wary, “is that Kyle has a better understanding of my anatomy than you?”  

“Alex,” Michael said warningly and was greeted with a smirk, “sometimes I wonder if you want me to break his face.”

“Sorry.”  He didn’t sound sorry at all, “but you kind of set yourself up for that one.”  When all Michael did was glower at him, Alex chuckled and reached out a hand to him.  “Thank you for trying to work with him.”

-

Taking care of Alex when he was incoherent and mumbling unintelligible things and barely able to hold a cup without spilling on himself was the easy part.  Taking care of a bed-ridden but coherent Alec was a trial in patience and a test in cunning.

“Guerin, no.”  

“What happened to Michael?”

“Michael is reserved for when you’re not holding a very sharp razor.”  Alex replied and gave the blade a very wary look.  “I’m fine waiting to shave.”

“You’ve been complaining about how being sweaty and not being able to shave is making you feel gross.  I can help with that.”  Michael sat down next to Alex and put the razor back on the tray of grooming supplies he’d gathered.

“I haven’t seen you clean shaven since we were kids.”  Alex raised a brow and looked at him challengingly, “you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“You’ll find I’ve only perfected my technique over the years.”  Michael said and grinned smugly before letting his mouth soften into a much gentler smile.  He raised his hand slowly and cupped Alex’s jaw, “I can tell it’s bothering you sweetheart, if you can, trust me with this.  Okay?”  He made sure his voice and his grip were tender, no demands.  If Alex decided he didn’t want this, Michael would respect that.  Alex watched him, brown eyes dark and gorgeous, brow furrowed in a way that made Michael want to soothe away all of his exhaustion.  

“Alright,” Alex said, pressing his cheek into Michael’s palm.  “I’d appreciate it then.  And Michael,” Alex paused, “I do trust you.  

Michael’s breath caught in his chest and he bit back the biting humor that defensively came to mind.  Even after all this time spent with Alex, there was a lingering fear that nipped at his heels and hid in the shadows of his brain.  

“Let’s put it to the test then, Private.”

-

Alex held himself still.  The moment, the act of Michael shaving him felt fragile.  It was his skin that a blade was pressed against, but he felt as though he were a sniper with Michael in his sights.  

Michael’s hands were calloused and warm, gentle but firm on his face, moving Alex where he needed to go.  The blade a steady and soft pressure.  Each slide of it against his face came with a strange pressure before it disappeared.  Soon enough he realized that Michael was using his powers to delicately maneuver the razor so that Alex was completely safe from even the tiniest and most accidental of cuts.  That devoted attention -on top of Michael’s dedication while he was sick- nearly broke Alex’s already cracked heart.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”  He finally murmured, trying not to startle Michael.

“Alex, not right now.”  Michael said and gave him a stern look, “let me finish this.  I’m almost done.”  

Alex waited until he’d lifted the razor away to wipe it clean and then reached up, tangled his fingers with the hand Michael still had on his jaw.  Tilting his head he pressed a kiss to the now unscarred skin of Michael’s left hand, “you just keep on taking care of me.  I didn’t get to tell you how much I was looking forward to dinner.  To a real date, with you.”  

Michael gave a slow shuddering breath and clenched his eyes shut for a long moment, fingers tightening on Alex’s.  “Alex, why do you... you.  Fuck, you have the absolute worst timing for everything don’t you?”  Michael opened his eyes and Alex swallowed, already having forgotten what he meant to say in reply.  Michael’s eyes were fierce and burning and Alex felt consumed by the intensity.  

“Every time I try to wait for the right time, I hurt us both.  I don’t want to, I can’t keep doing that.  Eventually, I’ll be too late again.  Waiting for you was , Michael.  I don’t want to push you away again, just because I can’t figure out when or how to tell you what I feel or what I want.”  Alex kept his gaze locked on Michael’s.  “So, because I think I need to make it clear.  I wanted that date with you.  I knew what I was going to wear.  I wanted that night to end with a decision.”  

“And what decision would that be?”  Michael asked, voice hoarse but gaze no less relentless.  

“That no matter what, I’ll be there for you.  You’re my family, Michael.”  Michael’s gaze dimmed a little and Alex quickly continued, “but that’s not all I want you to be.  I wanted to tell you at dinner that I wanted more. That I want a relationship with you.  That I still love you.  I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Michael didn’t let him add anything else, just half lunged forward and Alex was dimly aware of the tray hitting the wall.  Pushed out of the way by Michael’s powers and then he was lost.  Pulled away from reality until his world began and ended with the press of Michael’s lips on his own.  Fingers sliding through his hair and tangling with the messy strands and hushed words of “I want that.  I want you,” pressed between gasps of air against his lips.  

He didn’t know how much time had passed before they parted.  Michael pressing one last kiss against his lips before pressing tiny, softer kisses against his cheeks and neck.

It took a long moment for Alex to come down from that euphoria, he was dizzy from the exertion of their kiss and he could do little more than rest a hand on Michael’s head.  By the time Michael stopped lavishing him with affection, Alex was waning and his eyes fluttering in a desperate attempt to stay awake.  

“If that’s all it took to wear you out, then we’re going to need to work on your stamina darling.”  Michael’s teasing was gentle and Alex gave a tired scoff in response.  Whatever energy he’d gained that day was gone and he just wanted to fall asleep with Michael’s comforting heat and weight against him.  “Alex, Alex stay awake just a little longer.”  Alex struggled to open his eyes and was rewarded with a soft, “there we go.  I meant it when I said you have the worst timing, let me just finish this and you can sleep.”  

Michael’s voice, his hands, the words he was speaking and even the scrape of metal from the razor all seemed twined together in something deeply comforting.  

-

Michael stretched out, tearing off his shirt as he headed to the Airstreams shower.  It had been a long but successful day and he was pleased with the amount of work he’d gotten done.  It had been a few months since Alex had missed their date and somehow, during the two weeks that he’d taken off, everyone had decided to have problems that had to be fixed.  While he couldn’t complain about the steady work, it did bite into his time spent both with Alex and in his bunker.  Of the two, Alex was his priority, but he did miss time spent discovering and learning more about who he was and where he was from.  The piece of his ship that Jim Valenti had left Alex, stayed in the bunker under the cabin, a place that Alex and he had been converting to both a lab and a more functional safehouse.  

Done with his shower, Michael went to grab new clothes and then cursed.  He’d been doing laundry at the cabin and apparently, he’d been forgetting to bring it back with him.  Deciding that if anyone pulled him over they could just deal with it, he put on his dusty and grease smeared jeans and forewent a shirt.  It wasn’t until he went to grab the rest of his dirty laundry that he really looked around the Airstream and he paused, taking in something that should have been obvious.

The Airstream was practically empty.

Oh it still held pieces of him.  It was still very clearly somewhere he had lived, but the longer he looked around the more he realized he didn’t live there anymore.  Somehow, in the days, weeks and now months of being with Alex, he’d only slept at the Airstream when he was too tired to drive home.  Or on the rare occasions when they were in town and he convinced Alex that it was faster to just stop at the Airstream instead of driving to the cabin.  

Michael drove on the side of too fast as he headed back to the cabin.  Alex was in the backyard, his laughter ringing through the air like a siren call when he arrived and Michael followed it.  The beagle pup they’d rescued was darting around, valiantly attempting to chase a soccer ball that outsized her.  Alex turned and smiled at him, looking healthier and happier than ever and Michael understood now what Alex had meant about feeling seventeen again.  Except they weren’t, they were better now.  Stronger, able to take care of each other and he knew that neither of them would ever look away again.  

“Too hot to put a shirt on, Cowboy?”  Alex asked as he met him for a kiss.

“More like I forgot that all my clothes were here,” Michael said evenly and he could feel Alex tensing under his hands, “I’ll have to remember to take some spares over tomorrow.”  

“Just some spares?”  Alex asked, voice tinged with hopefulness that let Michael know they were both on the same page.

“My home’s here,” Michael said and he put his left hand on Alex’s chest, right over his heart.  Alex was the music he needed to survive this planet, to survive the universe.  Whether that was here, in a little cabin in Roswell or on a ship set to explore the universe.  So long as he had Alex, his mind was quiet and life was worth it.  

[3laxx]

Wind Chapter 14

Post fight care

Whaddup suckers!! Back with a new chap! Some self indulgent DJWifi, I hope that's okay with you xD But I really need to get back into writing and these two dorks are actually helping me massively, so, bear with me here xD Anyway! I'm updating, surprisingly so! That was a damn fast year, happy Halloween 2020 and shiz lololol Enjoy!

Ao3 / FF.net

“Oh my god, Nino, I was worried sick!! Where did you go during the fight?!”, he squinted his eyes at Alya’s reaction while Master Fu was busy removing the bandage around the hand that didn’t hold his phone.

“… I, uh-… I ran away, Alya. I was scared.”

“You could’ve just told me that, I would’ve turned around with you!”, she yelled now, making Master Fu smirk silently. The deadpan Nino sent through the silent line was enough to make Alya visibly roll her eyes, “… Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have turned around with you. But I at least would’ve liked to know before you bolted.”

He just sighed, nodding gratefully at Master Fu who now started rolling up the bandage, revealing healed skin.

“I’m sorry, Alya.”, he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to leave you behind like this. The car came flying and I just-… Wanted to get away.”

His own lie made him cringe as it was now his girlfriend’s turn to sigh. He wished he could tell her why he ran away, and he really didn’t want to take the role of a scaredy-cat now, that he had a secret identity to keep. A second life in which he was needed to be courageous. He already saw it coming how the acting would fuck with his head.

But she didn’t seem to catch on, much to his relief. Master Fu had told him about the magic keeping the veil over their secret identity, so nobody could actually tell. Actually, Alya went quiet for a while, giving him the chance to warm up a little by drinking a bit of his tea, while waiting for her to speak up again.

“… Was it because of that panic attack?”, she asked slowly, and immediately made him feel guilty again for leaving her behind like this.

But he had a secret to keep from her now. He had a responsibility now, a second life, and he had to keep it from her at all costs. Not to endanger her or his family. Or his friends’ lives again. Especially Adrien’s life. Hawkmoth couldn’t know another one in the class of his son was a superhero. The connection was too obvious.

“… Nino?”, she tried again and he snapped out of it.

“Y-Yeah. Because of the panic attack.”

Again, silence filled their call and he shared a glance with Master Fu, feeling entirely uncomfortable in his skin. He had to make her believe it had been because of the panic attack, otherwise she wouldn’t get off his tail. Nothing against Alya, but even regarding her loved ones, her reporter curiosity sometimes got the best of her.

“Are you home?”, she asked now and he squirmed under the raw worry in her voice, feeling that she was ready to put on her jacket and go to him.

“Uhm. Yeah. I’m home. Wanna meet?”, Master Fu looked up to him and squinted his eyes, making Nino helplessly shrug.

“I’ll be right there!”, she sounded relieved, so relieved he wanted to cry.

“O-Okay, see you in 15.”, his reply already got swallowed in the final beeping sound, signaling him she had hung up, probably to hurry over to him. With hunched over shoulders he finally met Master Fu’s gaze and gulped, seeing the old man huffing at his rash response.

“You’ll need to hurry, young Nino.”

The boy sighed in exasperation and nodded, trying to get up but finding himself unable to at first. It needed a helping hand from his master and a bit of work to get to his feet, making him groan.

“I’m sorry, Master Fu… But she would’ve been suspicious if I hadn’t been home.”

The old man just nodded at that, completely understanding, but Nino could tell he was not exactly happy about letting his student go that quickly after his first Akuma attack, especially when being in a hurry.

“Yes, I understand. She is worried, she wants to make sure you are fine. But what are you going to tell her about this?”, he gestured to Nino’s blue jaw, making the boy flinch.

“W-Well… I fell over some street barriers? Or some stairs while looking back?”

He thought he could see a slight smirk on the old man’s face before he turned his back to him, to put back the bandage from where he had taken it.

“I see, your lies are about as much believable as Ladybug’s.”

Nino rolled his eyes to that but nodded, humming.

“Yeah, yeah, just laugh about me. Wayzz, Shields up!”, with a flash of green he transformed and groaned at the shield resting on one of his many bruises. The master just sent him a smirk, before pushing a tiny tube into his hand.

“This one will help with the bruising. And tell Chat Noir that you will need to learn how to cushion a fall and absorb a hit. Alright?”

Carapace nodded, waving at Master Fu with the small tube, then he jumped out of the back window, quickly getting onto the roofs and running back home. On his way he passed Alya, who thankfully didn’t look up and was a good ten minutes away from his home still, so he went ahead, transformed back in a hidden doorway, only to “arrive home” for his parents.

Luckily, they didn’t question why he was already back home, since they had heard of the Akuma attack earlier today, and he managed to get to his room relatively quickly, so his mom wouldn’t see his jaw. With a relieved sigh, he closed the door behind him, then he gave Wayzz a small bowl of sunflower seeds which he hid behind some books in his cupboard, as the doorbell already sounded through the apartment. Alya was here.

With a grimace he sat down on his desk chair, pretending to be on the computer, and to be out of direct view from his door, then he waited for his mother to call him and let him reply to just send Alya to his room.

Luckily, just a few seconds later, Alya entered the room without his mother, mindfully closing the door behind her, only then Nino dared to turn around and immediately shush her before she would react loudly.

Alya, being the quick thinker, only lifted her hands to her mouth, then she crossed the room and gingerly took his face between her hands, cupping his jaw so softly he almost didn’t feel it.

“Oh gosh Nino…”, she exhaled, and he already saw her eyes getting a little wet at his condition.

“D-Don’t worry.”, he tried with an apologetic smile, “It’s just a bruise. In two days, it’ll be gone. Just, uh, mom doesn’t know about this and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Alya scrunched her eyebrows together but decided to say nothing as of now, just inspecting his jaw and swallowing back her tears, then she squinted her eyes at him.

“… What happened?”, her voice was dangerous.

“U-Uh, I tripped. When I ran away. It’s okay though, really.”, he tried, not really keeping his voice stable enough for his taste, but for her it seemed to be enough. He gulped inconspicuously as she turned away, running her hands through her hair.

“God, Nino, what am I supposed to do with you?”, she groaned so he not really quickly got up and pouted at her when he grabbed her hips, turning her back to him to catch her eyes.

“Well… Ladybug and Chat Noir can’t exactly keep me from tripping… And, I mean, shouldn’t you be happy you don’t have to worry about a plus one in a fight?”

His attempt at a smile was quickly overshadowed by her devastating deadpan, so he already shrunk together at the scolding he’d get from her, but instead she just deflated, resting her shaking head against his chest and lifting her hands beside it, brushing over his shirt.

“… Just look out where you’re going…”, she pleaded, and he earned her rolling her eyes when he made a joke. “You really wanted to blame me for falling over a couple of stairs just now?”

She gruffly pushed against him but made sure to keep close, still leaning her head against his chest.

“Don’t test it, Lahiffe. Just don’t test it.”

He laughed and kissed her head as she mumbled the same question as before, wondering what she should do with him, then he nudged her forehead.

“You could kiss me?”, he suggested as she leant back to look up to him, already grinning painfully at the little smirk on her lips. She gave up on pretending to still be angry, he felt it, and gave him a tiny peck on the cheek, being well aware of his bruise not to pain him any more than necessary.

“That’ll have to do for now. Let’s get on the bed.”

He suggestively waggled his eyebrows which just earned him a look, then he lied down and offered to cuddle with her, which she accepted in relief.

Softly, Alya’s weight pushed down the mattress beside his hips, then he felt her lying down on her side, resting her head on his shoulder and pulling her legs up, nudging him to rest his legs over hers.

“… That feels way better…”, he admitted, glad to be off his feet for today, and to be in a position that hurt considerably less than the hard mat on Master Fu’s floor.

“And now, the therapy session is a go.”, his girlfriend mumbled in his arms, closing her eyes while she yawned.

“Hm, you didn’t sleep as much. Say, what is keeping you up at night?”

He chuckled at the light pat on his chest that she gave him instead of another push, appreciating her being so soft right now.

“No, I mean, your therapy session. What was that about before the fight? That panic attack you had?”

He huffed and looked up to his ceiling, his eyes wandering over the remains of small plastic stars that he had stuck on the walls and ceiling as a little kid, which could glow in the dark.

“Eh… You know… Old memories.”, he replied vaguely and immediately felt her hand sliding up his chest to the point where Hawkmoth had stabbed him. It annoyed him to push that scar, that memory, back up in their heads and to repeatedly direct the talk to this topic, but he couldn’t help it. It was the perfect cover up for his secret identity and he needed her to believe he was becoming genuinely scared of Akumas now, to absolutely rule out any possibility of him being Carapace.

It was the easiest way, and he had the opportunity of pretending this trauma was the reason for him to stay away from fights.

Well, it wasn’t exactly untrue, he knew that. The panic attack had been real, and it had been based on that event, that much was true. Well, and the responsibility of having to fight his very first Akuma as a real team member and of course the crushing fear he’d felt of now having to be an actual part of the fight. It had been easy, watching and standing by the sidelines, cheering for his childhood heroes back then. And it had still been easy when they had grown up, coming to the mindset of carelessness, where he had the attitude of “Ladybug and Chat Noir will handle it anyway, what’s there to care about”.

It had of course changed when the Miraculous cure had gone missing along with Ladybug, when every damage had started to stay, and when he was suddenly forced to be in a lot more fights than he had felt comfortable with.

The Desertifier incident was a perfect example of that. He had finally felt, for the first time, how stressful it was to be in the middle of a fight, and he had finally understood how bad it had been for Ladybug and Chat Noir these past years, how hard these months alone had been on Chat, actually.

But he had still not been a prime target on the Akuma’s radar.

He had still been a harmless civilian, a wannabe hero, and most importantly, not a threat.

Now, with his suit, his shield and his new powers, he posed a threat in the Akumas’ eyes and he knew, now he was gonna be a target, worth the attention of a fighter, not a bystander.

Of course, this was scary.

Not that he could actually tell Alya that, of course. He’d have to explore the trauma idea more.

“… Does it still hurt sometimes…?”, she suddenly asked, her speech mumbled because her mouth was pressed against his shirt, her face squished against his chest. It was not at all what he had expected, hence he spluttered for an answer before trying to calm his beating heart at the sudden intimacy with which Alya talked to him about this.

She was normally not one to beat around the bush, he had gotten to know her as a very straight-forward girl and he knew she didn’t have a stick up her ass. Insults, slurs, lewd topics, even black or coarse humor wasn’t a problem for her. She wasn’t going to mince matters.

But being open about problems?

Actually, talking about stuff that weighed down on her, or telling people honestly that she didn’t feel good about a thing that happened, that was not her style. It was connected to a lot of effort for her to voice something like that so he naturally was a bit taken aback at her asking him that so openly. Especially since he sensed where the talk would go.

“… I-I mean-… Yeah, sometimes…? Like, when I think back at it, or have a nightmare about it… Or when I’m reminded of something similar… Then it kinda hurts. What about you?”

He gingerly touched her arm resting on his chest, over the multiple little cuts that still visibly stood against her brown skin with a faint, unnatural silver, as if they had just a few weeks ago. They both knew, even if they had healed off completely, that she would forever wear them as a reminder of the Cataclysm bursting through her skin, and he knew they still sometimes flared up, making her flinch, when she was too close to Chat’s magic.

Alya merely nuzzled close as a response to his question, humming in discomfort, making him cuddle her closer and almost pull his hand away from hers, just when he felt her holding onto his fingers.

“… Sometimes…”, she hesitantly spoke up, keeping her face hidden from him, not having to make eye contact. He knew she didn’t like that during the few real talks they had, “… I don’t wanna admit it… But maybe Plagg’s right about them being magical… Maybe I should see him about that again…”

Nino nodded and closed his eyes, to make her feel more at ease with him not pressuring her to look at him.

“… Maybe… Though, he did have the theory that Chat’s Cataclysm in that Observatory pulled out all the remaining magic. Since, it only adds up to destruction, doesn’t stop it.”

Alya huffed and nodded, then she pulled her hand out of his to wrap her arm around him, resting it over his stomach and holding him close.

“… Yeah, maybe… Oh well. Plagg said if I keep away from magic, I’ll be fine either way, so, even if there’s something left inside my body, I’ll be fine.”

With a heavy sigh he nodded at that, then he made eye contact with Wayzz in his bookshelf, pressing his lips together.

“… S-Sure… If you keep away from magic…”

He could only hope Plagg meant the black cat’s destructive magic. But he’d have to ask Master Fu about that.

[backtothestart02]

Mixed Drink - 4/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Back by popular demand - and a guess by one of my lovely readers correctly declaring Barry’s job title in this story - here is chapter 4. I hope you enjoy it, and please share your thoughts!! :D

Tagging @travelattwilight @mspurple23 @andromidagalaxie b/c I think these three ladies are dying for an update the most. lol.

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing. :)

...

Synopsis: AU - Two strangers meet in a bar. One spells danger, the other, desperation. 

...

Chapter 4 -

Iris’ jaw nearly hit the floor when the room beyond the cold metal doors came into view.

“How did you-” She turned to look at Barry, mouth still hanging open, and then promptly shut it. “I thought you were new to the city.”

“I am.”

“Hardly anyone knows about this place. Most people order online and get it delivered to them by UPS. This is like…a warehouse.” She looked around the glittering room. “A very gorgeous, clean, modern warehouse.”

“I may have done some research.”

“When?” she demanded, eyes narrowed.

He held out his bent arm to her.

“Does it matter?”

She told herself that yes, it did matter, a lot. But he was acting so charming and gentlemanly – and hadn’t hinted at sex for the last ten minutes – that she found herself dismissing it for the time being. Especially in a store as dazzling as this one.

Barry smiled smugly, which made her roll her eyes, but still she allowed him to guide her to the formal dress section. She stopped immediately when she got there, and her mouth fell open again. Everything she could see was stunning – absolutely stunning.

“You sure you want to pay for something here?” she blurted out. Because these clothes had to be more expensive than anything she’d ever owned in her life.

This time his smile was tender as he looked at her.

“Absolutely.”

Hesitant to take another step forward, Barry nudged her gently to loosen her up before tugging her in the direction of the most expensive dresses.

“Come on, Iris. It’s on my dime, and I can afford it. Live a little.”

She blew some locks out of her face.

What in the world does this guy do for a living?

A woman stepped forward out of the dressing room along the far wall.

“Mr. Allen,” she greeted warmly, and Iris immediately bristled. She couldn’t figure out why until it hit her moments later that the woman was swaying her hips more than was necessary as she led them to the dresses Barry had apparently picked out ahead of time.

Oh, God. Am I possessive of him already? Jealous, already?

“Here, try this one on,” Barry suggested after the woman had left.

It was a long, form-hugging silk one in a pretty silver color, with straps hanging lightly off the shoulders and a diamond clasp in the center of the top hem of the dress.

“I’ve got a few more when you’re done. We can always look for more if you’re not sure of any of them. Once you’ve gotten a dress you love, we’ll move on to the shoes and shawls. It’ll be a little chilly at the gala tonight with the air conditioning on.”

Shaking her head, she took the dress and headed for the dressing room. She stopped suddenly when a thought occurred to her. She spun halfway around and opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to the punch.

“And jewelry and make-up, and an updo that will make every woman there envious of the goddess on my arm.”

Heat flooded her face, so she turned around and began walking towards the dressing room again to avoid him seeing just how flustered she was by his comments.

Compliments, rather.

“He sure knows how to make a girl blush,” she muttered to herself once behind closed doors.

She took a couple deep breaths and waited till her racing heartbeat slowed back to a normal pace. Then she looked at herself in the center mirror and pressed the dress lightly against her front to see how it might look.

It is pretty, she thought to herself.

She thought too of the look in Barry’s eyes once he saw her in this dress. Lustful, no doubt, but honestly, she was starting to miss that. No man had ever looked at her quite like he had. And he hadn’t even been the one doing the seducing. Nope, that had been all her.

How desperate she must’ve looked, jumping on him like that, caving to her desire so quickly. Her circumstances were pretty dire at the moment. What must he think of her?

The possibilities gnawed at her, making her feel small and insecure, until a knock sounded at the door.

“Yes?” she asked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“You need any help in there?” his sexy voice answered, and she melted on the spot.

“No, I, uh, think I can handle it on my own.”

“You sure?” he teased, drawing the word out. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

She laughed. “No arguing that.”

The knob started to turn on the door, and she promptly stopped it.

“I said I can handle it.”

He sighed loudly.

“Now go sit down. I’ll let you know if I need any ‘help’.”

“Fine,” he said on another sigh and walked over to the chairs by the doorway.

After a couple minutes of struggling to get the dress zipped up, and absolutely refusing to ask Barry for help – because then she’d never get past the first dress – she turned the knob herself and came into view, smirking the second Barry caught sight of her.

He got to his feet, shutting his mouth the second he caught her staring at him in amusement. But damn if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Is this the one?” she asked, turning around to reveal the low cut with the short zipper.

So easy to unzip. She smiled to herself when she faced away.

“It damn well could be,” he admitted, unable to take his eyes off her. Then, somehow, he shook himself out of it. “But you should try on all the dresses,” he said, determined to get a hold of himself. “Before I rip this one off of you,” he said quietly, huskily, hungrily.

Iris could only nod in response. “O-Okay.”

She walked passed him to try on the other dresses, but in the end it was a sparkling bronze number that tied around the back of her neck, enhancing her cleavage and sporting a slit up to the middle of her thigh, that he inwardly begged  for her to like best.

She sighed, faking uncertainty as she looked at herself in the mirror and caught his drooling expression behind her.

“I just…I don’t know…”

“Iris,” he rasped, and she turned around and burst into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, her eyes darkening. “It’s the one.”

…

No sooner had the door opened than Iris found herself drawn to the far side of the room with her hands pressed against the glass.

“I told you it was a good view,” he said, smirking as he shut the door behind them.

He walked over to the closet to hang Iris’ dress beside his tux and placed her other items of choice around them accordingly. Then he joined Iris at the window.

“I’ve never been up here.”

“Really?” he asked, apparently surprised. “Not even for one of your stories?”

She looked over at him, stunned. Though in hindsight she knew she shouldn’t have been. After a moment, she relaxed and raised one eyebrow.

“You did do your homework.”

He shrugged, then his own shoulders relaxed.

Why, she wondered, was he suddenly nervous that he might scare her off?

“Part of the job description,” he said.

Her eyebrows narrowed.

“A job you won’t tell me anything about,” she reminded him.

He tsk’d at her, then let a gentle smile spread across his face.

“A man is more than his job, Iris. Just like you’re more than yours.”

“Is that your way of saying this isn’t a pity date?”

“Who said this was a date?” he teased, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in close.

Her mouth went dry.

He lowered his face, so his nose brushed against hers, and whispered, “Yes,” against her skin.

Iris’ arms snaked up around his neck as she murmured something unintelligible. Then, arching up onto her tiptoes, she kissed him.

It was just three Barry-sized steps to the bed.

…

When they walked into the ballroom at 7 o’clock that night – after an afternoon of room service, massages, and love-making - Barry and Iris were not only dazzled with the room before them, but also with each other.

It was hard for Iris to remember how opposed she’d been to this man only that morning. He was probably fooling her, being the player he’d likely been his whole life, and here she was telling herself that there could be no other girls if she saw none. She’d even deliberately not watched to see if he’d been checking out the retail employee earlier that day. She didn’t want to ask questions she might not like the answers to.

It was a little unbelievable that some free clothes and light wooing on a rooftop had turned sexual attraction into something deeper for her. Then again maybe it was just lust. Or maybe it was curiosity. His ability to keep anything regarding his job a secret for her was gnawing at her investigative journalist tendencies.

How she longed to report something of quality. Unfortunately, her attempt to do so after the third warning not to choose her own assignments had ended up in a suspension and then termination.

She supposed it was foolish and irrational, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to write about something that mattered.

And Patty, sweetheart that she was who would never hurt a fly, finally lost all her patience when she heard of Iris’ newly established unemployment. She sympathized, of course, but when Iris tried to explain the situation and Patty heard nothing but the same-old, same-old, she ordered her to leave. And Iris, shocked to the core that this angel of a human being would do such a thing, went without question. The door slamming behind her as she left nearly scared her to death.

She knew Patty just needed time, and that she would regret her actions. The two women didn’t have much in common, but they were both good, decent people trying to survive the wild world of law enforcement and the search for the truth. Patty’s field just happened to be keener on the serious issues than Iris’ was. Most of the time.

And Iris did feel bad. Patty would soon have to go apartment-hunting too if she couldn’t find another roommate to cover the costs of rent and utilities.

It was just a mess that Iris didn’t want to think about. Which was precisely what she’d gone and done every second since she’d been kicked out. Until Barry walked into her life. With the exception of the morning after hangover she’d endured above the bar at Teddy’s, she’d done little but think of Barry. Whether it was in a negative or positive light, she was still thinking of him. And she was going to continue to do so until at least the next morning when reality sank in again.

It was only Tuesday, though, and Barry had said he was staying in town until the end of the week.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind sharing his hotel room with her during that time?

What? Are you going steady with him now, Iris?

She rolled her eyes, punishing her inner self for her dreams, when Barry interrupted her by whispering the sweetest words into her ears.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the room tonight, Iris.”

Heat spread into her cheeks, but she wasn’t embarrassed. She was happy. She turned to look into his eyes and saw such adoration there she had to blink to make sure it was real. It didn’t go away. His fingers intertwined with hers, and for all intents and purposes, Iris truly felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered in response, and he smiled, lifting her hand to his lips for him to kiss.

She was thinking of other places he’d kissed earlier in the day and the night before, but she put a stop to it quickly. She’d never be able to focus on the task at hand, which was being a professional plus one at his work-related gala. She couldn’t be pulling him away to make out with him in a quiet, abandoned, far away hall. If they got caught, he would be in trouble – It might even end his career.

“Allen!”

They both turned at the sound of Barry’s last name, and Barry’s demeanor immediately changed.

“It’s my boss. Come on.”

His boss?

But she went along anyway, forcing herself to keep up with him in her high, high heels.

“Sir,” Barry greeted, then turned to Iris. “Iris, this is my supervisor, Mr. Draeger.”

“Kevin,” the man corrected, then warmly and firmly shook Iris’ hand. After their hands dropped, he sent a suspicious look Barry’s way. “Where on earth did you find her?” he asked, skeptical.

Barry shrugged, unworried in the slightest. “Where do all men find the women of their dreams?”

She gasped, not registering that they’d met in a dingey bar.

“A little forward for a first date, isn’t it, Bartholomew?” Kevin asked, his voice going low.

Iris felt the tension building and cut in.

“Who says it’s a first date?” she asked.

Kevin glanced at her. “I think I know my employees well enough to-”

“Know who they’re seeing romantically?” she pushed. “Or sexually.”

His eyes widened. “Gutsy girl you’ve got there, Allen.”

“That girl is standing right here,” she interrupted. “And she wants to dance with her man.”

Both men’s jaws were hanging open by this point, but Iris only addressed Barry.

“Shall we?” she asked, and he nodded subtly, not looking back at his boss for a moment as Iris led him onto the dance floor.

“You’re incredible,” he said, pulling her close as they started the waltz.

“I couldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

“He’s my boss.”

“And I’m your date. Remember?”

He smirked, then slowly allowed his hand to lower a few inches down her back. Iris put on a good show, but he’d felt her delicious shivers.

“How could I forget?”

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[callededie]

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦  𝐛𝐨𝐲 .      i  still  don’t  get  it  right  sometimes ,  i  just  don’t  get  it  as  wrong .     /      a  STARSCREECH  playlist     !          now  streaming .

title sequence  :      brothers &  —  the wonder years  (  no closer to heaven )      /      edie will likely never forget that he was the one who was with pendulum when everything went wrong. to a certain extent, he knows it cannot be his fault, but there’s a voice that finds volume on dark nights or lonely mornings that are a bit too quiet. the lyrics ‘ we’re no saviors, if we can’t save our brothers ’ puts the word post deluge into context. he’s more determined than ever to make sure that those around him are safe, and that this new world he’s found doesn’t meet the same fate as the one he was born to.     /     we’re no saviours, if we can’t save our brothers. we’re no saviours, we’re no saviours.  

personal  theme  :      be more kind  —  frank turner  (  be more kind  )      /     while it doesn’t always appear as such due to a calm and patient nature, edie is highly aware of the threats any future might bring, he’s seen a world break and knows how little it takes. his home world was not always at war; he was a hopeful kid with a decent childhood, and then things changed. he wants to help keep earth from the same fate, but the truth is he doesn’t necessarily know how to. that fate was never avoided for his people, so he has no guide or blueprints, he is only trying his best. he thinks perhaps just a little bit of kindness, however, might go a long way.    /     history’s been leaning on me lately, i can feel the future breathing down my neck, and all the thing i thought were true, when i was young, and you were too, turned out to be broken and i don’t know what comes next. in a world that has decided that it’s going to lose its mind, be more kind, my friends, try to be more kind

preparation  [  before  the  battle  ]  :      go get your gun  —  the deer hunter  (  act ii: life and death  )      /     edie is a soldier, and has the mindset of one. he’s good at taking orders and will do what has to be done, and retains faith that it is all for a greater purpose. he feels guilt for those they are unable to save, but truly believes that the exemplar are doing the most good that they can. he’s never truly considered the moral implications of having justice placed in the hands a few  ( albeit a few that are so carefully guided, but not with the true consent of the public ), as all the villains they’ve fought he’s seen as true threats.     /     go get your gun, get your gun, imposing penance one by one, you’ve got a virtue in a vice, it forces fate, you’re taking lives, with all the history to guide, you’ve got passion in those eyes, so aim it straight and true, and to those who’ll die, please try to understand, that for those who die we’ve tried the best we can

realization  [  adjustment  period,  part  i  ]  :      dream boy  —  waterparks  (  fandom  )      /     when the american public loved starscreech, edie felt like he belonged on earth. maybe he struggled with the delicacies of human interaction, but people seemed to care for him anyway. when the exemplar disbanded edie came to realize that the world loved an image that had been constructed for him, and the true version of himself was not one that garnered friends in the way he hoped. people had different expectations of america’s first alien, and those expectations were usually that he was a little more human or a little more alien.     /     build your expectations, saturated and inflated, ‘cause i was born to be your favorite. make me complicated, i’m modern and i’m dated, because i was born to be your favorite. build - a - boy, pick my pieces, overjoyed, never leave your heart destroyed, i’m your boy.

rationalization  [  adjustment  period,  part  ii  ]  :      figuring it out  —  swmrs  (  drive north  )      /     edie still hasn’t completely come to terms with what exemplar is, something to inspire and, more than anything, be a source of palatable nationalism. he wants it so badly to be something, for it’s what he’s hitched his identity to. he spent his time in isolation hoping for a return because it is within the context of exemplar that he understands himself, even if it is “made for mass production.” even if it was because “everybody want[ed] to be somebody” that they cared, at least they did. edie continues to rationalize the team as something great and believes a return is what he needs.    /    we’re just scapegoats all too dumb, body paint and day glow, where do trends go when you’re numb? when everybody wants to be somebody, they all care, and everybody wants to know themselves. we’re too scared, we’re still figuring it out. made for mass production, is it hard when you want more? was i made to function, or create, or just get bored?

promise  made  :      fortress  —  mat kearney  (  crazytalk  )      /     edie was quick to adopt earth, and more specifically america, as his purpose. this song is his promise to his new nation and its people when he arrived. when he arrived in the 70s, he was as hopeful as he was still hurting for the world he had lost, and if he could stop needless war and violence from taking even just one planet, he’ll feel as if he has done something meaningful, what he was unable to do when he was younger. however, america adopted him as much as he did it, and they were what allowed him to become the hero he wanted to be.     /       let me be your fortress, i’ll let you in. hideaway your secrets, i’ll carry them. you’re the one i’ve wanted to defend, if you let me be the hero i’ve never been. let me be the war already won, you can be the nation where i come from. we can be the kingdom yet to come, if you let me be the one.

the alien  :      burning man —  dierks bentley  (  the mountain  )      /     the most human thing about edie is how badly he wants to be, perhaps more human than anyone sees. he’s, at his core, a man who’s trying to find himself and help others. he’s calm and obedient, but he has a passion behind his somewhat robotic exterior. he’s constantly trying to both understand and emulate the human condition, without realizing that his desire to fit in is the most humanizing aspect to him.     /      i still don’t get it right sometimes, but i just don’t get it as wrong. i still go a little bit crazy sometimes, yeah, but now i don’t stay near as long. i’m a little bit steady, but still little bit rolling stone. i’m a little bit heaven, but still a little bit flesh and bone. little found, little don’t know where i am. i’m a little bit holy water, but still a little bit burning man. 

controversy  /  conspiracy  :      made in america —  waterparks  (  double dare  )      /     for the most part, edie has been unaware  ( either actually or by sheer force of will )  of the  “ conspiracy  ”  that the exemplar were only puppets. however, that doesn’t mean that those ideas don’t impact the way people see him. to some the alien’s promise of defense and aid was cheapened by his donning of a skintight colored suit and red cape. even he thought that the team was a bit showy at times; however, to him it was a sacrifice that was made to do real good.      /      counting back down from showtime, and selling you a filtered frame. we, we’re made in america, we’re classic hysteria, we’re culture clashing, hazard smashing, maybe someone’s. we, we’re made in america, we’re fucked and don’t care at all. aesthetically, yeah, we’re so pleasing.

genesis  :      superheroes —  the script  (  no sound without silence  )      /     while it is often not seen, it is what edie experienced on his home planet that made him into a hero. it’s not that heroism is innate in his form, but something he grew to see as necessary after seeing such total destruction.     /      ‘cause he’s strong than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow. when you’ve been fighting for it all your life, you’ve been struggling to make things right, that’s how a superhero learns to fly. everyday, every hour, turn the pain into power.

rejection  [  adjustment  period,  part  iii  ]  :      save myself —  ed sheeran  (  divide  )      /     between being separated from the team and the strange series of attempts at connection after the exemplar was disbanded, edie found him on unsteady ground. it was a choice to keep himself save to isolate. yet, even as he kept himself separate from the world, he hoped a new one would call to him, or  (  even better  )  that he would be recalled to the team, taking up the mantle he had come to wear.      /      and all the ones that love me, they just left me on the shelf, no farewell. so before i save someone else, i’ve got to save myself. but if i don’t, then i’ll go back, to where i’m rescuing a stranger just because they needed saving just like that.

family  :      one of us —  new politics  (  lost in translation  )      /     when the team was together, they were like family to edie. he had traveled across the galaxy and was alone when he came to earth. while he had taken the entirety of the earth under his wing, at least in his mind, living with the members of the exemplar was the time he felt closest to those around him. a new family to make him feel less alone, and ease the lost of his own family, his own people. edie is loyal to the team, almost in excess. he has their backs no matter what.     /      is this your staring role or just a cameo? who are you living for? when can’t take no more, cause when it rains, it pours. i don’t got much, but i got heart and soul. everybody needs a place to call their home, everybody needs someone to call their own, every when you’re lonely, know you’re not along. you’re one of us, one of us, one of us.

isolation  :      over my head  (  cable car  )  —  the fray  (  how to save a life  )      /     there was a small feeling of betrayal that edie felt when he realized he didn’t quite pass among humans in the way he thought he did, wishing that someone would have told him sooner. maybe then he would have been able to learn the intricacies better before he was on his own again.      /      i never knew that everything was falling through, that everyone i knew was waiting on a cue, to turn and run when all i needed was the truth, but that’s how it’s got to be. it’s coming down to nothing more than apathy, i’d rather run the other way than stay and see, the smoke, and who’s still standing when it clears.

return  /  reunion  :      get better —  frank turner  (  positive songs for negative people  )      /     when edie returned to hq, it was with a feeling of hope. he was sure that this was what he needed. any problems that occurred while the team was on hiatus could be fixed. he’s ready to take on whatever the world throws at them with a brave face, and he’ll encourage his teammates to do the same.     /     i got no new tricks, yeah i’m up on bricks, but me, i’m a machine and i was built to last. i took a battering but i’ve got thicker skin and the best people i know looking out for me. i’m trying to get better because i haven’t been my best. try and get better and don’t ever accept less. take a plain black marker and write this on your chest, draw a line underneath all of this unhappiness. come on now, let’s fix this mess. we could get better, because we’re not dead yet.

nostalgia  :      lost in nostalgia —  the maine  (  lovely little lonely  )      /     even though he was never sure he would answer a call that took him from earth, it was the hope that he would hear one that kept edie from focusing too much on the past. he knew he had to keep looking forward, even if that meant looking somewhere else. yet, there were certainly moments when he slipped back into thinking about the good old days, probably more than he would like to admit.      /      don’t you get lost in nostalgia, no, turn something softer and lighter, yeah. don’t you get lost in nostalgia, no. it’s not too late, it’s not too late.

[az-5-elimgarak]

#TeamWillow

Fictober19

Type: Fanfiction

Fandom: Homeland (TV Show)

Prompt #24: Patience... is not something I’m known for

Rating: G, No warnings apply

Characters: Peter Quinn, Willow (seizure response dog)

The story and the tags after the break-line. Lemme know if tagging bugs you. Or if you’d like to be tagged in the future. And thank you. ❤

The first time the mystery object brushes against the bottom of his jeans, it barely registers. Given how easily he gets distracted on an average day, he promptly dismisses it as another one of those sort-of-phantom-but-not-really-because-Andy-says-it-can’t-be sensations his affected side whomps up on occasion.

The truth is, he’s just too tired to look down. Fifteen years of covert operations, life in the shadow of days, weeks, even months of sleepless nights at a time, and he can honestly say he doesn’t remember himself feeling as worn to a frazzle as he does now.

Since he started on Prazosin the nightmares have gradually gone away. Not entirely, of course, but he hasn’t had one render him borderline catatonic in months. He’s been doing better. Not great - he’s not sure it’ll ever be ‘great’, or that it ever was, for that matter - but definitely better. 

It wasn’t until Kim asked him during one of their sessions if his being ‘busy’ - as in ‘How’s it going?’ ‘Um… Busy, I guess’ - was a good thing that he realized, to his utter astonishment, that it was. That amongst hundreds of briefings, debriefings, missions, drinking himself into a near-stupor between missions, he doesn’t remember a single day that was, simply, busy. And that, even though between his job and the neverending succession of therapy, physiotherapy, speech therapy, and every-other-fucking-kind-of-therapy-known-to-man, he sometimes feels thin, like butter scraped over too much bread (to quote Bilbo Baggins),  he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

In fact, right now, following a night shift at the Center and a particularly grueling physiotherapy session, he’s going on thirty six hours without sleep. His brain, fretted and discombobulated on a good day, feels like it’s barely holding structural integrity, let alone that of coherent thought. He’d tried to reschedule the interview, even considered giving it up altogether, but, in his condition, passing on an opportunity like this just wasn’t an option.

He struggles to keep his eyes open, not to mention follow the questions that seem incessant - a slow, systematic torture that’s starting to make the infamous 2003 interrogation in an Iraqi prison look more and more like a walk in the park. 

“...currently involved in any illegal activity? Or were in the last year?”

Now this piques his interest. “Anyone ever answer ‘yes’?”

“I’m sorry, Mr Hayes. I know this is…” A bunch of meaningless, bureaucratic crap? “...tiresome. And may seem redundant.” No shit. “But I’m obligated to ask. And, if you’re hoping to be in the program, you need to answer.”

“I was not,” he concedes. Not in the *last* year. So not *really* a lie.

She’s right, he knows, this woman across the table whose name, for the life of him, he cannot recall. He needs this. In fact, he should’ve applied a lot sooner. Not just because having a seizure response dog may, at last, allow him to hold a legitimate driver’s license. And not just because it didn’t help his rehabilitation process when six months of work to improve the range of motion in his left arm went down the crapper following a nasty seizure-induced fall that shattered his left humerus in two places. But because if he doesn’t, one of these days the neighbor recruited to check on him several times a day will be too late. At which point, ironically, having survived being shot, stabbed, and gassed, he’ll finally meet his demise on the kitchen floor, drowned in his own drool.

“...the program is very intense, and, as such, can be quite demanding. Training takes time. Weeks. Months, in some cases. We can’t promise you quick results. But we guarantee that, provided you put in the due time and patience…”

Patience…  is not something I’m known for.  

Hot on the heels of the thought a wave of anxiety follows. He fucked it up. No, not past simple. He HAS BEEN fuckING it up, for as long as he can remember: every chance he was ever given, every iteration of ‘normal’ he ever had. What if…  

Breathe, Kim’s voice whirs in his head. He swallows, counting to three before gradually letting the air funnel out. Then again. And once more. Until the numbness washes away and he’s prickling all over. You haven’t fucked THIS one up. Yet. So… shuddup and fucking BREATHE. 

“...we highly advise those who eventually qualify make the necessary arrangements allowing them to actively participate in the process. Training an SRD is goal- and need-oriented. We can’t just tell a dog what to do when you have a seizure. And, as you probably know, seizures differ in frequency, type, and intensity. Once the training is complete, your SRD should not only be able to warn you of an upcoming seizure, but also provide assistance, or even call for help if necessary. So, obviously, the training cannot be done unless you’re a full participant for the entire duration of the program…”

There’s that same brushing sensation again. Except, this time it’s not against the sleeve of his jeans but lower, on top of his foot. And it’s not so much brushing as it is… stirring?

He looks down, eyes widening in awe. “Um… Miss…” What *was* her name?

“Yes?

“It’s… There’s a p-p-p…” A sure sign of his brain initiating the shutdown process.

“Problem? Look, I know this all sounds quite overwhelming. But I assure you, if you put in the necessary effort—”

“No. No. There’s a p-p-p…” he motions under the table, unable to stop grinning. “P-p.. small dog.”

With some effort, grabbing the side of the chair with his right hand, he shimmies away from the table. The ball of creamy-gold fluff on top of his sneaker stirs again, sleepily rearranging the tangle of chubby paws around his braced ankle.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Judi! Judi! Why is there… I’m sorry, could you give me a minute? Judi! There’s a puppy in the reception room!”

“That’s alright. I don’t mind,” he tries, reassuringly.

“It’s not that, sir. Judi! I’m so sorry, they’re not supposed to be here. They’re not even house trained yet. Oh my God, did it…?”

Finally, the side door opens and, mumbling apologies, Judi - he presumes - rushes in. 

“Willow! My goodness, how’d you get in here, girl? I’m sorry, she’s a bit of a… here, lemme take her. Excuse me… Sir? Could you…? Your foot?”

“Oh. Sure.”

He moves further backwards. His foot, sliding from under the snuggly weight, causes the puppy to roll over with a soft, startled yelp.

The amusedly exasperated “There you are, you mischievous scamp” is followed by an abrupt “No! No! C’mere! Willow, you...! Oh, for God’s sake… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Sir… do you mind?”

Bending down, he awkwardly reaches with his right hand behind his left ankle where what appears to be the feistiest golden retriever in the history of the breed is engaged in an out-and-out battle of ‘catch-me-if-you-can-bitch’ with her irked-out-of-her-mind keeper. 

“Gotcha,” he smirks, deftly hooking his palm under the plush belly and emerging from under the table with a wriggling jumble of ears and limbs. 

Held in front of his smile-dimpled face, a fierce twinkly-brown stare locked with his steely-blue, Willow lets out the tiniest, most defiant squeal of part-bark, part growl, part something-too-adorable-to-not-have-a-name he’s ever heard. 

“Wow. Consider me scared,” he nods, genuinely impressed, tightening his grip as she wiggles harder, earning a narrow-eyed shake of his head. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

Something in his calm, measured tone renders her still for a moment. Moisture-sleek, pitch black nostrils flare. Once. Twice. And then, he feels her go limp in his palm, paws and earls slacking, head cocking puzzlingly to the side. 

He lowers his voice. “That’s more like it. Now: care to say hello like a proper lady?” 

Slowly, he moves his hand to his face until they’re nose to nose where, following a series of cautious sniffs, his gesture of good will is rewarded with a torrent of slobber so generous and enthusiastic, he’s forced to laughingly gather her to his chest instead. 

“There,” he whispers, cradling her in the stiff, motionless fold of his left elbow and soothingly running his newly freed hand from the top of her head to the tip of her shimmering tail. “It’s nice to meet your acquaintance, Miss Willow. I’m Noah,” he adds. 

And, for the first time since he was handed his new identity papers, the name he thought he'd never get used to folds on his tongue just right.

 ______________________

The woman across the desk blinks rapidly, as if trying to decide whether or not he’s joking, and, in case he’s not, which part of the protocol her job is outlined by should’ve prepared her for this.

“Mr Hayes, I’m sorry. But that’s - what you’re asking -  it’s out of the question. It just… doesn’t work like that. We don’t - we can’t… you don’t just choose an SRD. At this age, we don’t even know if they have the ability. And even if we did, pairing an epilepsy dog with a potential candidate is an intricate process. There are factors that—”

“That what? I mean, how compatible do we have to be? It’s not like I’m asking you for her  bone-marrow.”

She exhales in an attempt to regain her composure. “I realize that, sir. But, nevertheless, there are things to consider. Things that our specialists have been trained to take into consideration. I’m sorry. This is— unprecedented. The candidate can’t just walk in and choose a puppy. Which is why we usually…” shooting an accusatory glance in Judi’s direction, “...don’t even let the candidates see the dogs until one is assigned.”

“Fine. But how about a puppy choosing a candidate?” he quips, pointedly scratching behind the ears of the aforementioned puppy snuggled sleepily in the crook of his neck.

“A pu…? Mr Hayes, you can’t be serious.”

Quinn leans back, tilting his head so as to rest his cheek on top of the plush bundle. “Look. I understand. So, say she doesn’t have the… SRD gene, or whatever makes them qualify. Or we don’t… work together. It’s fine. I mean, it happens, right? Even with the “selection process”, it must happen on occasion. What do you do then?”

Finally back on familiar territory, Christie - it *is* Christie, isn’t it? - nods.

“Sir, we’re a private facility. One of the top in the world, as I’m sure you know. Candidates who choose our services are guaranteed a functioning SRD. Of course, like you say, it’s not an exact science, and some pairings don’t stick. Which is another reason why the selection process should be left to people who are qualified to perform it. But, if the pairing is unsuccessful, we offer a client a chance to repeat the process.”

“Which costs you money.”

“Yes. But that’s far from being our main concern. Like I said, the training program is quite demanding. Doing it twice is not in anyone’s best interest.”

Disregarding her last remark, Quinn presses on. “And the dogs? Those who don’t qualify?”

“Well, they are all purebred, so, we offer them up for sale to individuals or elite breeding houses.”

“There you go. I’ll make you a deal. I get Willow, right now—” Christie opens her mouth to protest but he raises a hand to stop her. “Just... hear me out. I get Willow. And, if it doesn’t work out, for whatever reason, I’ll pay for her. And I’ll pay to repeat the program.”

“Sir—”

“I fail to see the downside. I really do.”

“Well, for one, Willow is too young to be trained. Or even tested. It’ll be at least another six weeks.”

Quinn smiles.

It never ceases to strike him with awe how, sometimes, his fretted, disjointed, swiss-cheese of a brain just... snaps back. As if resetting to some kind of safe point, all of the stroke and sarin splintered parts shift and reshuffle, and, suddenly, every word he needs is just where it ought to be.

“Miss, I’ve applied for the program over six months ago, and have been on the waiting list for the past three. I was diagnosed with refractory epilepsy a year ago having tried every combination of anticonvulsants known to modern medicine; and a bunch of experimental ones. I’ve had two, three, sometimes up to five grand-mal seizures a month for almost two years now. I’m pretty damn sure I can wait six weeks.”

 __________________

With Christie excusing herself in order to run the ‘this is highly irregular, sir, it really is, but I’ll see what I can do’ deal by her supervisor, and Judi retreating back to the breeding chambers, the room has grown quiet at last. It’s just the two of them now: Quinn, slumped back in the chair, eyes closed,  and Willow, passed out on his chest, her wispy, feathery breaths tickling the side of his throat.

He feels himself melting away, losing cohesion. He could fall asleep like this, his cheek resting against the velvet of flopped ear, fingers buried deep in the thick of her fur. And, given the bargain he just made, he probably should. 

Whatever it takes, he thinks, his mind skidding down the slope of exhaustion. Whatever it takes. 

Like a pebble skipping across the lake of his memory, he’s suddenly at the Center, chatting with Jessie, last night’s admission: a fourteen-year old turned over to CPS by her case worker following a late night raid the DEA made on her fifth foster home in two years.

“Ok, I can tell you. But it’s like a total spoiler.”

He arched a skeptical brow. “#TeamLannister? A total spoiler?”

“Hey. It’s GoT, alright? Everything’s a spoiler.”

“Fine. Spoil away,” he sighed, tossing her a new set of bed sheets.

She went on to tell him a long, elaborate story of a big battle involving dwarves (or was it just one dwarf), dragons, “dragon-wasting” ballistas, some “BAMF” knight called  - he wants to say James(?) - and, well, a “buttload” of other spoilers of which he understood very little; and remembers even less. Not to mention the fact that he never did get the answer as to what #TeamLannister - printed in block letters across her t-shirt - means.

“Hey, we’re a team now.” He nuzzles the wisp of spikes just above Willow’s ear as she stirs and burrows deeper into his neck. “#TeamQuinn?” A snort. “Ok. #TeamHayes?” A sleepy whimper. “What? #TeamNoah?”

Suddenly, there’s Christie’s voice in his head again. “...provided you put in the due time and patience…”

Patience… is not what I’m known for, he remembers thinking. And he shakes his head, smiling. Not something Peter Quinn was known for. Nor “John”, or “David”, or “Nathan”, or any of them, for that matter. 

Noah Hayes, though? He chuckles. The jury’s still out.

Jolted awake by the bounce of his chest, Willow emerges from under his chin, big, droopy eyes blinking in sleepy daze. 

“Hey you,” he laughs, poking the tip of her nose with the tip of his.

And, as she scrambles higher, curling her head in the crook of his neck with a long, joyful sigh, he just knows: for as long as it takes, wherever this road leads, and whatever the cost - from now on, it’s #TeamWillow.

@valerafan2 @hidingupatreeorsomething @awariasuit @tenar-of-atuan @potter012 @johnlockismyreligion @boisinberryjamarama

[imagine-a-killingharmony]

How (insert five random DR characters) react to their s/o breaking their arm during a killing game, yet they still remain active and useful throughout the whole killing game and survive?

If this were an actual game I’m pretty sure that S/O would be the mvp, completely the mvp yea...?? We’re all screaming at the deathflags but they live what a champ.

Also five random... dr characters... the k gang, this is perfect for the k gang oh my god!!! alright let’s add some of my favorites to write from it, we got Kaede! Kaito! Kiibo! Kokichi! Kirumi! Korekiyo is gonna be held off for now since ya’ said 5 but one of these meetings he’ll be here!

That’s a promise.

-Mod Shuichi

Kiibo

The day they had all found you with an broken arm at the end of the staircase after being pushed by a masked figure, Kiibo found a worry like no other corrupting his systems, it flooded him completely and he had to worry somewhat about the entire ordeal.

He promised that he would not leave your side until you got better, you told him there was no need for that yet he inisisted! Really he thought that you would be slightly incapable of helping throughout the trial or with the usual ordeals that came from being trapped within a killing game...

Yet you did, he was thankful that you had still managed to assist everyone else despite the conditioning you were in. He made sure you had him promise to not overwork yourself!

Whenever you were having issues with anything he always tried to help you to the best of his ability! Which wasn’t much but it was considered useful enough by you, that’s all that he thought mattered.

You were surviving so far despite all you had to face, the hope that shimmered inside you... his inner voices always seemed so surprised at it! Calling all the deathflags you were facing to be quite of large quantity, yet you thrive.

Isn’t that truly amazing? You survive and thrive and continue to fight until you both finally made it out of there together...!

“... S/O!” He offers you his hand, your arm is still in a cast, you chuckle weakly before taking his hand in your own functioning one.

It’s warm despite the robotic skin, the metal that presses against yours, so warm, yet not sizzling hot.

“Let’s go.”

You walk past the rubble into your own hope, that belongs to nobody else, a future that only you and Kiibo choose.

Kaito Momota

When Kaito had found you with a broken arm a sobbing mess within your own dorm room the place you should be safest, after someone had attacked you only being narrowly avoided he felt a side of him he didn’t even know existed until now fear.

He promised to stay by your side from now on even though you kept insisting that wasn’t even necessary considering your arm was placed into a sling, but he continued to tell you it wasn’t of issue!

Kaito was really happy you managed to keep on your A-GAME despite getting attacked! Really that’s his S/O! You even kept training with him, of course you refused to do anything arm related and not easy but still! A-GAME!

Honestly he was anxious at first but after seeing your determination to stay active and not let that dastardly Monokuma get away with this, makes him all riled-up too!

You’ll make it out! Right? No matter what, it’s a promise! Can’t break it now, heh.

He just wishes he could escape with you.

A cough narrowly escapes his lips, he feels blood pour from his mouth onto his hands. You aren’t like him, right? You’ll remain active right? Won’t you?

He roughly yanks the syringe out of his arm, he’ll watch you, he’ll be cheering you on from the stars. He wipes his hand in his newly-formed blood as the entire world goes woozy around him, all of you, so close to the end.

So escape for him, make the impossible possible mkay? You won’t let some pesky injury kill ya’ or make you all weak, unlike him. He trusts ya’.

Finding Kaito’s body only made your determination harden more than it already had, with it you find the courage to find his killer, you make it out alive.

Even if Kaito isn’t there he knows, cuz’ he’s watching from the stars.

He told ya, right?

Kaede Akamatsu

You had accidentally broken your arm in an fatal attempt to stop execution, Monokuma gave you a warning and you didn’t take it despite his headings.

Kaede took place as the one to help you with daily-life, why if she were in this situation she know you would just do the same for her wouldn’t you? She can’t imagine how it is to not be able to use your hand at all, how it would be to be unable to play piano... it sounds horrifying.

But you don’t play piano so this isn’t all that bad, she even tries to lighten the mood sometimes with some slightly dark humored jokes, which strangely always work on you.

She got uneasy on the very thought of your injury, it made you an easy target for the others but you promised you could take them all on...

That made her believe in you, so you made sure that trust was worth it.

You stood together and survived, you even helped with the trials, you kept moving forward, not skipping a beat, a fast-paced rhythm, a sharp rhythm that never disappoints.

She keeps up with you, together you make a powerful cadence of hope arranged to perfection, despite the other voices being more than you, your duet conquers them all.

You escape together, the song reaching it’s finale with a fortissimo crescendo that pierced any other sound that tried to overwhelm it’s tune.

She takes you into her arms never have been prouder the two of you could have left this place together, that you survived despite all the hardships you had to go through with her.

With one final bow the two of you leave the stage, the song having reached it’s end.

Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi Ouma didn’t want to admit it, he refused to admit it in fact, it was quite in fact unacceptable!

You got mixed up in some stupid fight between Angie and Tenko, it’s just sosososososososososo stupid! He wasn’t even there! How could you do this to him?

This was all unexpected too! He didn’t plan for anything like this to happen, he didn’t think those two numbskulled idiots wouldn’t hurt you for any reason, yet they did!

Now he had to replan everything to get the two out of this mess, how could you possibly be useful now with a broken arm...?

Kokichi was proven mistaken rather easily, somehow you kept up with the rest of the group, out of pure sweet determination you kept moving forward.

He doubted you now he almost wants to laugh by the total way his plans flopped yet came back around so easily, oh well.

Since you had gotten a broken arm he had started teasing you much less, of course anytime you note this he would make a stupid joke about how your arm was broken, trying to reaffirm his role as the big bad evil leader!

But really he was afraid for your sake, he gave everyone who looked at you strangely one of his creepy looks, he smirked evilly at anyone who even suggested with your newfound state you could make easy-pickings.

You always promised him that wouldn’t be the case, but even so he felt scared, worried sick, he’s never felt like this for anyone ever before how could you do this to him?

At the end of every promise you always hugged each other, even extended your pinkies out and intertwined them, made an oath.

You kept your promise, you lived, he lived, lived, lived, lived.

When the trial room had become nothing but rubble the two of you stood there, struck by the new light of freedom that escape was just a few steps away.

Kokichi almost cried, you did it, you exceeded all his expectations again, he can’t be happier his heart isn’t shattering in front of him like he planned it would.

“I love you.” His hands wrap around your waist and he lets out a choked sob, his mask finally have been cracked open.

“I love you too.”

Kirumi Tojo

When Kirumi has found your unconscious body with a newfound broken arm she almost let her exterior slip, her walls break, but she kept her cool and went to bandage the wound as swiftly and efficiently as she could so you wouldn’t feel pain when you woke up.

She would stay by your side almost constantly asking if you needed assistance, you often told her it was fine but she persisted to assist you.

With a broken arm your safety usually held quite the problem, you weren’t able to defend yourself completely so it was best you made sure to lock your doors and stay by her side.

She expected you to relax slightly with this issue, it would be hard to deal with, so she had found you kept trying your very best to get out of this place even now.

You kept looking towards the truth, you kept on your feet and made assertions that made the group’s optimistic rise, you kept her sane and lended her a shoulder to cry on.

No words could tell her how happy she was that you kept moving forward, that you spared thought for her sake despite your own conditions.

She... She’s so glad the two of you had survived together, to now.

That you never lost hope, that she fell in love with you.

That you survived together.

“... S/O? Do... Do you mind if I request something of you? I know this is informal of me, as I... am supposed to keep a level head at... all times but I...” She squeezes your hand. “... May you hug me?”

“Of course.” You held her tightly in your grasp, as tightly as you could with a broken arm at least and you felt her shudder under your grasp, she tightly hugged back.

“We made it.” She gently whispers pressing her head against your chest, her grip loosening. She didn’t even bother to keep her dignity as she cried just like a small child would against you.

“Together.”