#like buddy i know you have nerve endings in there because you fuss if i Gently Hold your tail during bathtime. what gives man

[mamawasatesttube]

having a migraine is fucked up and evil because my dog is conked out on the floor behind my desk chair, wagging his tail in his sleep, and my brain is like "oh actually the Thump Thump noises are too loud and it hurts now." excuse me. brain stop being a bitch he's having happy dreams

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 1.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x reader

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the pain of not knowing is weighing heavily on you as you arrive to your next destination. The people around you prove themselves.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, the italics at the very beginning indicate a scene involving brief attempt at sexual assault. The chapter deals heavily with themes of SA, and its aftermath. Pls take your own triggers into account while reading and feel free to message me for further info 🫶

…

“C‘mon, man, not so much as a test drive?”

Malcolm’s not in his right mind. Finals week pushed him to the brink and beyond. He’s been killing himself proving to his father that he’s worth being taken on at the firm. College is coming to an end and it’s almost time to be a man — as it grows closer, there seem to be more and more voices in his ear telling him what that entails.

Sex. Money. Power. Everything in the world is about sex, but sex is about power. Or whatever Oscar Wilde had said — he had only enrolled in that class for the credits and the added study time with you.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” He brushes the comment off with a wrinkle of his nose, bringing the bottle of whiskey to his mouth, tipping his head and pouring it back.

You’re not a possession — he’s in good enough mind to know that much. His buddy’s test drive metaphor leaves more than a sour taste in his mouth. It also leaves a sickness in his stomach and a venom twisting through his nerves.

The mention of this is already grinding at him, his blood growing hot and his feet growing restless, tapping against the aged wood below them.

“Because she’s such an angel that she won’t even let you lay a finger on her? — Yeah, she sounds like a real prize, Ashworth.” Another guy snorts. Malcolm’s head whips around to face him, his eyes narrowed.

“Has she even let you get to second base or are her tits off limits too?”

“Damn shame that she’s got that pretty mouth and you don’t have a clue what to do with it.”

“She scared that it’s going to hurt or something? — You packing a big one, Mac?”

He pushes himself swiftly up from that stiff leather armchair despite its creaks of complaint. Damn thing is older than he is. The dark liquid swishes in the bottle as he staggers away from his so-called friends. He’s heard enough.

He knows where to find you, pushing through the sea of already drunk co-eds and wrapping an arm securely around your waist, slotting himself into your gossip session with a friend.

You’re so excited to see him, greeting him with a polite kiss to the cheek and leaning into his touch. You’re always so kind to him. He has to lean in close to whisper in your ear, his voice sullen and serious, “Could I talk to you for a minute? — In private.”

It isn’t until he closes the door to one of the guys’ rooms, that he notices exactly how drunk you are. You gasp and wobble and drop down onto the bed, bursting out laughing.

He doesn’t laugh with you. Instead, he brings the bottle of whiskey to his lips and takes a long drink. Lurking in the doorway, watching you.

As the bottle drops back to his side, Malcolm just remembers watching you. He doesn’t remember walking any closer until he’s sat beside you and holding your face in his hands.

“God, Mac — how much have,” You have to pause to hiccup, covering your mouth with your hand, unaware that you’re slurring your words too. “How much have you had to drink? — You reek!”

“Just a bit.” He mumbles, the bottle heavy in his hand as he leans forwards and kisses you. You comply happily at first. Well, you seem happy enough to him, even if he does smell kind of like a distillery.

Maybe the two of you talk more, maybe you don’t. The only thing Malcolm knows is that he has securely rounded the corner into second base before you start to fuss at him. You’ve let him get this far before, what’s the big deal now?

The dress you’re wearing is a flimsy blue satin thing, not particularly festive for the holiday party, patterned with expensive looking shimmering detailing. One of them has slipped off of your shoulder to make room for his hand to slip under the velvet fabric and cup at your breast.

“Stop it — what if someone comes in?” But you’re still kind of giggling with him, grabbing at his shoulders. If you wanted him off of you, you’d say so. You have before.

You’re not that kind of girl. Malcolm scoffs to himself at the idea. Your neck is soft against his lips and your perfume drives him crazy.

“It’s just sex, it’s not a big deal.” He mutters into the crook of your jaw, and the mood flips. He feels you pushing weakly at him, all it does is bunch his sport coat and make it fall back off of his shoulders.

“Sex? — Here?” You’re not making much sense, losing your composure and your ability to form a real sentence at once. Not so classy now.

As Malcolm sits back to shrug his jacket off and looks down at you, your chest halfway exposed and your eyes struggling to track him, he feels a pang of guilt strike him. Slowing himself, his heartbeat is in his ears as he fixes your dress to cover you once more and leans down to kiss at your lips.

“I’ll marry you,” He whispers against your mouth, pleading. “I have a ring. I was going to ask you anyway. Your father loves me, you know he does. You believe me, right, honey?”

You had said yes once before. You were going to let him. After prom night, your senior year; you were going to the same college and your families liked each other. He’d gotten too drunk and screwed it. Couldn’t even get it hard. It seemed to freak you out, after that you’ve barely let him close. Now, you’re seniors again. He just needs you to say yes once more.

“Not here.” Your face wrinkles and turns away from him, maybe it’s just the smell of whiskey but the rejection damn near makes him see white. He remembers how uncoordinated your efforts to shove at his hands were.

The next thing he remembers is Catherine stumbling in looking for you, and you trying to bolt. He had caught you the first time.

You were screaming at him, shoving him, calling him a pig. He was arguing right back at you. He’s always known exactly what to say to make your argument feel paper-thin.

The second time you had run, he had let you go, picking up his half-finished whiskey and pouring it into his mouth. He knew you wouldn’t say a word to your parents, you would be too ashamed.

The last thing that you remember from that night is being downstairs, laughing with your friends, with his arm around your waist.

The drive down to the farmhouse is a little over an hour from Florence, one of the shorter journeys of your trip. No need for stops or bathroom breaks. You had settled into your seat, covered your ears, and turned the volume on the Walkman as loud as it would go.

When you were packing tapes for the trip, you hadn’t once considered to bring Christmas music. Now, you’re wracking your brain trying to remember the song that had been playing. Remember any part of that night at all.

Once she had realized what she had said, Catherine had grown defensive and apologetic. She wouldn’t tell you much. Like she was covering something.

You’ve been staring unseeingly at the Tuscan countryside as it passes you by, Kate Bush as your soundtrack. I should be crying but I just can't let it show.

He wouldn’t hurt you. This is the same man who took you out to his mother’s rose garden and gave you the most stunning Tiffany necklace you’ve ever seen as a gift. The man who hugs you so close against him, and sits through your chick-flicks with you.

Your parents adore him, and it’s their job to protect you. Your father is a wonderful judge of character, and Malcolm won his seal of approval years ago.

All these miles of land whizzing by, outside of this ugly little minivan, are starting to make you sick. You close your eyes and listen to Kate.

Oh, darling, make it go

Make it go away

Your eyes burn under your eyelids, prickling with tears. Even worse, it makes your face burn with furious heat to think of any one of these people seeing you cry. Your stomach is trembling with unease, a static feeling in your fingers and toes is the only thing reminding you that you can feel them at all.

Breathing in shakily, you squeeze your eyes more tightly closed, gritting your teeth to will the tears away.

You just need to remember. You can’t go accusing him of something awful. He’s always been so good to you. He’s your future. You just need to get your bearings, and figure it out. Maybe you had led him on. Given him the wrong idea.

It’s such a short drive, and for once, there doesn’t seem to be any drama that requires his attention. Bradley has let himself get so behind on his work that he spends the duration of the drive with his papers sprawled out across the bench, making annotations and edits.

“Whoa, look at this place!” Zoe gasps, leaning over the seats to get a look at the sprawling driveway, lined with green trees and shrubs, marking the way toward the farmhouse. It’s an incredible building, sprawling and stone, dotted with climbing plants along the walls and planted flowers in the window boxes.

Bradley closes his notebook and looks up finally, then looks across at Pasquale with a small smile.

“Did I ever tell you guys that this is where Pasquale and I met?” Bradley announces to the group, turning around in his seat to face them.

“All the way out here?”

“Yeah. We worked here together one fall.”

Bradley had heard of Alessandro’s work early into his studies. It was Natasha who got him the job here. He arrived in September and left in December, this place gets cold as the months go on. Now, it’s warm and everything is in bloom. It smells sweet and citrusy. Sandro had always sworn that the apricots grown here were the best in the country.

“Then, when Mr. Bradshaw had been accepted for his summer work here with the university, I was the first person he called to be your tour guide.” Pasquale adds with a grin as he pulls up in front of the old house. Bradley hums. Pasquale has always been a good friend to him.

As soon as the engine stops, the heavy wooden front door is thrown open and a tall man with long, dark curls comes jogging out, grinning.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” His accent is thick, but mixed. Not entirely Italian. His cheeks dimple as his grin stretches across his olive toned skin, watching Bradley tear out of the minivan and head for him.

“Sandro,” Bradley grins, grabbing hold of the slightly shorter man by his shoulders and dragging him in for a hug before leaning in close and shaking the man a bit as he chuckles out something in Italian that makes them both laugh. You miss it, barely pulling your headphones off of your ears as you step out of the van.

“I don’t know what that means but I know it was a swear word.” Abigail announces, making Bradley laugh as he turns to her again. She’s not wrong, he had happily just called Alessandro something not too dissimilar to a son of a bitch. Endearingly.

He hooks an arm around Alessandro’s shoulders and turns him coolly towards the group. “Guys, this is Alessandro Gabris. Not quite the man of the house but a hell of a storyteller.”

Alessandro turns his head and whispers something back that can only be as filthy as whatever Bradley had said to him, because it makes them both double over laughing. Their inside joke makes Pasquale laugh along with them. That autumn had been such good fun, the three of them.

Alessandro glances behind him as an older man walks out of the building, wheeling an elderly woman in a wheelchair. He smiles as he gestures to her.

“And this is my mother, Teodora Gabris.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bradley’s lips stretch into a warm grin as he breaks the haphazard formation of the group, unwraps himself from Sandro and steps towards her, crouching in front of her wheelchair, slipping his sunglasses off. The woman’s face changes, brightening with recognition. “Don’t break my heart, Dorie, you remember me too, huh?”

The crinkles beside her eyes deepen as she lifts her hand and rests it against his cheek, tilting her head to examine his face.

“The artist.” She remembers, making Bradley laugh fondly. He’s familiar with her in a way that makes both of their grins broaden as he leans in. He’s far from an artist, and she knows it. But, he has a way with words and a way with women, and that had amused her all of those years ago.

In her youth, Teodora traveled from the Kefalonian countryside to the centre of Paris, where she had trained with oil paints. She’s the real artist.

“How have you been?” He asks.

She just looks around her, gesturing to her little slice of Tuscany, blooming into the July heat, and back to him finally. Bradley nods his head, unable to shake that smile from his face. She has her little slice of heaven already, how could she not be happy?

“You haven’t aged a day.” He tells her, his large hand resting softly against her now frail wrist.

You stare between the two of them. The affection they have for each other, and the joy on her face as she remembers the boy he was. His hand sitting so gently on her skin.

“You have.” She teases, pinching his sunwarmed red cheeks. He laughs, sharing her gaze for a beat before he stands upright once again.

Of the six places that you have visited so far on this trip, Bradley has been greeted warmly by someone who once knew him in every single one of them. Even Natasha, who hates him for his betrayal, finds it in herself to revel in the safety of still being near him.

You don’t remember your interaction with him that night either. He could have done anything. He could have left you there. You can only imagine the look your mother would have given him when he took you home. You weren’t ever even particularly nice to him, you’d talked through his class all through first semester. He took you home and made sure you were safe anyway.

“Hey, are you okay?” Suddenly there’s a hand on your wrist and it feels like scalding water. You pull swiftly away from it and whip your head around to find Abigail leaning towards you, her features creased with concern.

Your cheeks are hot, and wet. Fuck, they’re wet. Quickly, you bring both hands to your face and start wiping hurriedly at your tears. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but blink dumbly at her, your shoes dragging across the dirt below you as you stumble a step back.

As he hears the question, Bradley turns and shoots a glance over his shoulder. His face falls, turning completely to do a double take as he notices your teary face.

“Hey, hey — what’s the matter?” Bradley’s size thirteen converse tennis blancs trample across the dirt and stones, long strides and heavy footfalls. Your stomach churns at the thought of those heavy hands on your skin, of his frame up close and looming over you, of getting stuck between him and the minivan behind you.

He slows as your foot slips back and fumbles for purchase in the dirt, muddying your white sneakers.

Everyone behind him is looking at you now. You’re painfully aware of the twisted up look on your face but it’s the only thing keeping you from sobbing.

Humiliation stings. All of them looking at you like you’re ridiculous. Not being able to remember. Simultaneously wanting to throw yourself into Bradley’s chest and beg him not to touch you.

Bradley lowers his voice just slightly, also well-aware of all of the eyes on you suddenly. “Look at me. What’s the matter?”

Your lip trembles, trying not to look at anyone around you. Your eyes steady on his, your throat thick and your heartbeat thundering.

“Can I talk to you about something?” You croak out.

There’s a study downstairs, just off of the living room. Bradley clicks the door shut behind him, his brows drawing together as your pace away from him.

“Honey…” He says softly, like he’s trying to soothe a cornered animal. You round on him like one, eyes wide. He’s never seen you so spooked. “Talk to me. What happened? — I can’t fix it if—“

“You can’t fix it.” Your voice cracks and gravity grows stronger, forcing you to the ground. Crumpling like a piece of paper, you curl your knees up to your chest, a sob wracking your body.

“Okay, alright,” Bradley breathes out, clicking the lock on the door and following you to the ground. You flinch as his heavy hand comes to rest against the back of your neck, stroking softly over the top of your styled hair. “Let me hear it, it’s no good keeping it to yourself.”

“Please don’t touch me,” You whisper into your knees, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. Your skin crawls, trying to picture Malcolm on top of you, wondering how you couldn’t remember. “Could you… could you just please not.” You decide finally, wiping hurriedly at the damp spots under your eyes.

He doesn’t follow. It was just last night that you were so comfortable in his arms, staring up at him with that electric, trusting look on your face. But he gently takes his hand off of you anyway.

“Is this about that phone call?” Bradley asks gently, suddenly unsure of where to put his hands. His instinct is to hold you.

Light pours in from the tall, wide window to your side. It’s far too warm, and too sunny in here for you to be feeling this awful. It feels like the ground is going to swallow you whole, if the weight in your chest doesn’t take you out first.

“Talk to me, honey. Tell me what happened.” Bradley encourages, bracing his elbows on his knees and lowering his head to try to meet your gaze.

“I think Malcolm — that night that you found me in December, I think— I think that he—“

Bradley’s eyes go round, the concerned frown on his face falling all of a sudden. He stares at you as you sob into your hands. He remembers that night so clearly. From waking up face down in a textbook chapter about Pre-raphaelite attitudes towards monogamy, to squinting to figure out what that figure in the snow was. Seeing you there, barely conscious. Practically deadweight in his arms as he had lifted you.

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

You lift your head to look at him, the colour drained from your skin, eyes pleading.

“Did he tell you this?” Bradley asks you softly.

“No. Catherine said — she said something about finding— fuck, she said something about finding him… on top of me.” Your throat is hoarse and your words are barely coming out as you try to hold back floods of tears. If you let yourself keep crying, it feels like you might not ever stop.

Bradley lifts his hand and pinches at the bridge of his nose. He inhales for six, exhales for seven. Then, he reaches out slowly and rests the tips of his fingers against the outside of your ankle.

“I don’t remember.” You choke out. He looks across at you, thinking of how proudly you had been showing off your engagement ring. No clue what an animal your fiancé was. Your lip trembles. “I don’t remember it.”

His gaze flickers immediately to your hands covering your face as the midday sun catches the rock on your ring finger, glistening in the light. You never would have said yes if you had known.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry,” He whispers, curling his fingers softly around your ankle. It takes everything not to wrap himself around you and shield you from everything outside of these four walls. This dusty old office, sunlight shining across ever single chip and dent in these old floor boards, just you and him.

“If I wasn’t such a mess, then—“

“Hey,” His fingers squeeze softly at your ankle, prompting you to look up at him, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. He gives a soft shake of your head. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass between the two of you. His fingers don’t dare inch from the safety of your ankle, if that’s as much of you as he is allowed to touch, then that’s what he’ll take.

He can’t imagine the fear in not knowing.

You swallow softly and push onto your knees, crawling closer and pushing yourself into his chest. Bradley tucks one arm around your waist, doing his best not to cage you against him as you bury your face into his neck. You can feel him giving you room to retreat.

It’s such a strange thing, not wanting him to touch you but at the same time wanting to be held by him until the rest of the world stops. The thought of his hands on your skin makes you sick, but you want nothing more than to bury your face in the crook of his neck and pretend that none of this is happening. Like he’s not a separate man, not something to fear — just an extension of self, almost.

“It’s not your fault.” He tells you again, running his hand along your back, finally letting his eyes fall shut. Your breathing is jagged and gasping with the sobs, coming out quickly against the skin of his neck. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I should remember. I — I thought I’d know, or… feel… and I don’t remember any of it.”

His stomach knots, his palm resting between your shoulder blades as he cradles you against him.

It wasn’t that long ago that he couldn’t stand the thought of you. He had taken what he had seen of you in his classroom and come to the decision that you were selfish, and spoiled, lazy. He had no idea.

Since then, he has grown to know that you’re none of those things. You’re defensive, sure, he can be too. You’re a product of your upbringing, to an extent. But you’re witty, and smart, and you’re far from selfish. Bradley has seen your curiosity up close for weeks now. Your potential weighs on his mind, it keeps him up at night thinking of the future you’d have if you just had someone tell you that you could.

He hugs you against his chest and turns his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He promises. There’s no way around it, or over it. He couldn’t have stopped it from happening. This isn’t about him or the way that he feels for you. He holds you close, rubbing firm circles across the length of your back for as long as you’ll let him.

“I’m sorry.” You choke out, your face buried into the warmth and familiarity of his neck. “You — You should be out there with everyone. I just need a minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Bradley whispers.

And he doesn’t. He sits there and holds you until he feels your breathing start to get slower and longer against him. Then, he strokes a strand of hair gently off of your face. “You feeling tired?”

“Exhausted.” You whisper.

He nods softly and kisses the top of your head. If he could, he would happily have carried you upstairs and put you to bed himself. Instead, under the watchful eye of the rest of your class, he has to point your directions from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll be upstairs to check on you in a bit. Get some rest.”

And he does come up a bit later. You’re not sure exactly how much later, but it’s dark when the first knock wakes you up.

See, the first knock doesn’t warrant pulling yourself out of this unfamiliar bed. The pillowcase is damp but for now, you seem to have run out of tears. The second knock is more tempting, if only to make the sound stop.

Bradley doesn’t knock a third time. Instead, he takes a quick glance at the empty hall around him and leans in close, “It’s me. Can I come in?”

You already knew it was him, there’s no real need for him to announce himself. Still, you grace him with a tired sound of acknowledgment and force yourself out of the fetal position. The old doorknob creaks and clicks, then the door itself creaks as it opens. It would be pretty difficult to sneak around in a big old house like this one.

“Hey.” Bradley greets you softly, cautiously. You offer him a tight-lipped smile. He brings a hand from behind his back and shows you a plate with roasted potatoes and vegetables — something else that you can’t quite see, a starchy baked dish.

Through no fault of his own, he doesn’t get much of a reaction from you at all. You make no effort to reach for the plate. He crosses the room and sets it down on top of the dresser.

“Brought you some dinner, and uh…” Bradley hasn’t felt sheepish since his second day of basic training, and yet, his eyes are on the floor as he pulls his other hand from behind his back. “I brought you this.”

You watch as he sets the blue fabric in front of you, folded neatly.

“Your shirt?”

He scratches at the back of his neck, walking right on by you to sit against the window ledge. Cool air bristles his nape and makes him sit up a little straighter, letting you catch his eye.

“I don’t know, I thought…” He stares at the blue fabric in your hands and gives his head a soft shake. “I don’t know what I thought, but keep it for tonight.”

He knows what his thought process was, he just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. It sounds selfish now. I thought that since I can’t be with you, maybe a piece of me might help. How ridiculous of him to make himself so important in all of this.

“Here,” He remembers, pushing himself away from the window and taking the plate in his hand again, “Come on, you should eat something, while it’s still hot. It’s good.”

You pull your knees to your chest as he perches himself on the bed beside you, setting the plate down. You settle down, crossing your legs and lifting the plate into your lap, picking up the fork.

He watches, chewing at the inside of his lip as you push the vegetables around the plate.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Stupid for bawling my eyes out like that.” You answer him meekly, spearing the fork through a grilled red pepper, pushing it through some of the juice from the baked dish.

His eyes search across your features.

Neither one of you says anything for a moment as you shake the pepper from your fork and stab it instead through a piece of eggplant.

“You’re not stupid.” He tells you, his brows drawing together as he watches you periodically wound the food on the plate.

“He was clearly unhappy, and I didn’t even notice. My own boyfriend and I didn’t have a clue,” You jam the fork into a particularly stubborn chunk of zucchini and letting the fork clatter to the plate. Bradley stares back at you. “If he was happy then—“

”Don’t defend him to me.” Bradley interrupts you, his voice calm but grave. In a roundabout way, he understands how your thought process has led you here, but he can’t listen.

”No, I’m — I’m not. But it’s my responsibility as his partner—“

”Stop it.” Bradley deadpans. He lowers his head and meets your gaze. His tone suggests that he is growing frustrated but his eyes are another story, soft and warm, honeyed as they search across your face. “You were blacked out drunk. Whatever you think you owe him, it wasn’t his in that moment. You get that, right?”

He’s trying to help. You know that he’s trying to make it better, but it isn’t. Your nape feels hot and your throat feels sore. If he’s right, if that’s really true — if it was never your fault — then where do you go from here?

Your wedding is eighteen days after you fly home. The dress, the centre-pieces, the bridesmaids and the venue — everything is already all set up.

You suck in a soft breath and bury your face in your hands. Bradley lifts his palm and smooths a hand softly over the nape of your neck.

“Look, I just—“

“Can you go?” You breathe out shakily, dropping your hands from your face and meeting his gaze. His mouth hangs open, and you just know that he’s going to keep on talking. “Just go. Please. I want to be alone.”

Finally, he closes his mouth and gives a solemn nod.

“Okay,” He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before standing up from the bed. “I’ll come see you tomorrow morning.”

With him gone, the quiet is worse this time. Out here in the country, there’s nothing but you wracking your brain for answers that just won’t come. At some point, you make yourself eat some of the now cold food Bradley had brought you just to settle the rumbling in your stomach.

Then, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It’s a tall thing with a wooden frame, angled to face the bed. Your fingers reach down and curl into the hem of your nightgown, thinking of the blue Dior dress sitting in your closet at home now. It’s around this length, one of your shorter articles of clothing. You had been so excited to find that dress.

Standing in it that day in the floor, you had felt like Cinderella, right out of the pages of a storybook. Ridiculous.

Quickly, you grab at the hem and tear it off of your body. Almost naked, you examine yourself in the reflection. Something makes you walk forwards and your eyes squint, scrutinizing the flesh before you. Wondering how much of it Malcolm has seen, really.

You wonder which parts of it come to mind, when the two men who have seen your body think about it. The softness of your stomach? The way your breasts sit? — Something different entirely, maybe. Your self-examination is short-lived and exhausting all at once.

Turning back around, you spot Bradley’s shirt sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s a soft, heavy cotton, and it smells wholly of him. It slips easily over your shoulders, your fingers working nimbly to fasten the buttons.

You tilt your head, observing the way you look wrapped in his clothes. Then, you look around the room. Without Bradley to occupy your evening, the sudden lack of television or alternate entertainment strikes you.

Stuck with little other option, you grab your walkman from the dresser and head over to your suitcase. Armed with the cassette, wrapped in Bradley’s shirt, you cross the room and settle back into this unfamiliar bed, setting the headphones over your ears. You click open the cartridge and look down at the new tape in your hand.

Written across the front of the plastic in red marker, calligraphy: Our Wedding Tape 1986. It was a parting gift. Something from your future husband to lift your spirits when you were feeling low over here.

You lay back against the pillows, closing your eyes and hitting play. Slowly, the opening chords of The Commodores’ Three Times a Lady start to play in your ears. Your stomach flips, but you inhale, squeeze your eyes tighter and it’s almost better.

It’s soft, and slow — almost like a lullaby. But, your blood is coursing so hot and fast through your veins, it feels more like you’re running a marathon. Hot tears burn behind your eyes once again, reminding you that you haven’t actually run out of them. That they might never really stop.

To touch you, to hold you, to feel you, to need you.

There’s nothing to keep us apart.

You’re once, twice, three times a lady, and I love you. I love you.

As the lyrics pause and piano chords once again fill your ears, you realize that you’re gritting your teeth. You inhale sharply and snatch the headset off of your head, tossing it harshly onto the floor and causing the walkman to bust open. The cassette falls to the floor, but at least the music stops.

You’re breathing like you’re being chased. You wipe hurriedly, wanting the tears off of you, kicking back the covers, wanting everything off of you. As you wipe the salty tears from your jaw, you remember the metal on your finger.

As with the Walkman, you tear it off and throw it. It lands atop the dresser, the light catching the diamond, it sparkles back at you like a wink.

You had been so ridiculously happy on the day that Malcolm had proposed. Surrounded by your friends and family, wearing a beautiful dress, the centre of attention. Ridiculous.

You sink back down and turn onto your side, facing away from the dresser and the winking reminder that sits atop it. Sleep comes for you quickly, taking place of the crying-induced headache and drowning out the faint Commodores chorus lurking in your mind.

You’re awoken by a soft knock on the heavy wooden door. Sunlight is already pouring in through the curtains and something tells you that you missed breakfast. This will be Bradley. You let him knock again. Then, a third time. Eyes still closed, you groan softly and press your face into the pillow as a fourth and fifth knock ring out.

Stubborn asshole. You tear the covers the rest of the way back and push up from the bed, padding across the hardwood floor and pulling the door swiftly open.

Abigail and Zoe stand outside, dressed in tank tops and shorts with bathing suit strings peaking out. Your mouth falls slack as you try to close the door to cover yourself a bit.

“Oh—“ Your eyes widen, lips parting. It’s obvious to the both of them instantly that they aren’t who you were expecting to see. “Sorry, I thought you were Bradley.”

Zoe glances at Abigail, Abigail glances at Zoe, they both look down at the slightly wrinkled blue button up that falls down to your mid thighs. Bradley wore something really similar in Venice.

“We, uh — well, we’re just heading down to the lake. We were going to swim, and get some work done. Sandro gave us some snacks and some lemonade,” Zoe has a real talent for cramming as much information into as short a breath as she can, showing you the contents of the little cotton bag on her shoulder at the same time. She stops finally, allowing herself to smile in her pause. “If you… maybe wanted to come with us.”

You neither retreat or reply. For a second too long, you just look between the two of them, completely wordless.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Abigail answers quickly, she looks at Zoe and they both quickly offer you nods of agreement. “Don’t feel like you have to—“

“No— I-I— yeah. Thanks. That would be cool.” You shift your weight from foot to foot, balancing one one, toeing at the aged floorboards under you. It feels strange, wanting so badly to go with them.

Up until you reached this threshold, you were so certain that you didn’t give a damn about the way they felt about you. Maybe you don’t, really. You sure wouldn’t if you were back home. But here, the feeling of finally being invited is something weightless.

“Cool.” Zoe smiles awkwardly back at you. You wonder if your smile looks half as apologetic as hers does.

Abigail bristles to attention, shrugging her tote closer to her body and reaching down to take Zoe’s hand. “Well, we’ll wait for you downstairs? We can all head out there together.”

They’re wearing swimsuits. You should dig your swimsuit out of your case. Maybe they’ll be upset if you make them wait too long.

“Thanks, I’ll be quick.”

And then you’re walking around the left side of the house and heading across the fields, they’re explaining how wonderful Teodora is, how she told them about a wild swimming spot just over the hill.

They’re curious about you. You were so angry in the beginning, so restless and unhappy. That seems to have faded away now. They still don’t know a single thing about you really, not as much as they would like to.

“Are you feeling better? — Bradley said you weren’t feeling well.” Abigail is tall and dark-skinned, with round glasses and her curly hair usually in two French braids. Today, she’s wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that belonged to her father, and a pair of denim cut-offs.

“It’s not contagious, right?” Zoe adds as she trails alongside you. She’s shorter than Abigail, with dark hair and green eyes. She’s the only sophomore on the trip — you wonder what she had done to impress Bradley enough to let her come.

You shrug your shoulder bag closer to your body and make yourself smile. “Much better. I think I just didn’t drink enough water and I was tired. Just… out of sorts, I guess.”

“It’s good that Bradley was so kind to you about it,” Zoe hums absently, adjusting her thick-rimmed sunglasses. Red runner shorts and complimentary red and white striped adidas sneakers, and long tanned legs. She looks right out of a commercial — but one of the well done ones. Not cheesy or anything. “Called his office once to tell him that I couldn’t take an exam because I was super sick, that fucker didn’t believe me until I dragged myself in there and puked on those old Nikes he used to wear.”

You hum out an amused sound. That makes two of you who have puked on his shoes.

“He feels bad for me because my fiancé’s a jackass.” Maybe it’s a lie, maybe it’s the truth. You believe both sides of it, in part. Bradley does feel bad for you. But he would have held you in his arms yesterday even if he didn’t.

To them, it makes sense. There has been plenty of gossip about you over the last five weeks. Some of it, admittedly, they had engaged in. Everyone is pretty curious about why you’re getting married so young, and equally curious about all the time you’ve been spending with their cool, cocky professor.

Watching you stumble away from the group sobbing yesterday, there had been a few whispered rumours about the cause. Maybe Bradley dumped her because she wouldn’t put out. That one was especially cruel.

To Abigail, someone that heartbroken didn’t deserve to be made fun of. It had looked like your heart had been clean ripped out of your chest. She had whispered to Zoe about it last night in the darkness of their room, from the top bunk, and the two of them had decided to approach you today.

”How long have you two been together?” Abigail toes the line between prying and learning enough about you to potentially calling herself your friend. You probably should mind, but this is standard practice back home — girls who don’t care wanting information they don’t deserve. Something tells you she’s not like that.

”Since high school.” You tell her.

She slows slightly and turns her head to look back at you over her shoulder. You’re looking down at the dirt and grass and wildflowers, setting one white shoe in front of the other, denim shorts and a green blouse, that sad look on your face again. It’s different than the kind of sadness she saw in you yesterday — but it’s a look she has seen on you before.

A kind of acceptance to it, like you’re at peace with the sadness you’ve known.

”People grow a lot after high school.” It’s wonderful that you have managed to stay together. It’s probably time to call it quits. Her sentence seems unfinished and leaves you guessing, but it doesn’t condemn you to her own decision on the matter the way that Bradley’s black and white had.

You look up from the ground and meet her gaze. You smile and nod. People sure do.

Bradley gets caught up in the kitchen with Teodora as he is fixing you a plate of breakfast, guessing at your favourite morning foods. He only really dines with you in the evening.

“Is that for the girl?”

Bradley hums and nods, frowning at the cooked mushrooms. He can’t remember if you love them or hate them. After five dates, he should probably know that. He shouldn’t have been on any dates with you. They’re just mushrooms—

“She left already.” Dorie shrugs without looking up from the morning paper. Bradley’s fingers curl tighter around the plate. He turns slowly, to face her.

“She what?”

”Yes, the girl with the tattoo and the girl with the long legs,” Dorie tells him, glancing up and taking note of the panicked expression on his face. Abi and Zoe. He swallows a bit. They’ll be good to you. “They all went out by the lake to work. They’ll be back in the afternoon.”

The last time he had been here, Bradley had been hopelessly in love with another. He kept a picture of her in his wallet. Pretty little thing with her middle finger pointed right at the lense as she sunbathed topless on a beach in the south.

Teodora won’t pry, but she suspects there might be a new picture in Bradley’s wallet now.

“Oh. Right,” He sets the plate down and stares at it, unsure of what to do with the extra food now. “I… I guess I’ll get started with some work. I’ll be in the sitting room.”

She nods politely at him, he sets the plate in the fridge and leaves to gather his work things. God, he hopes they’ll be good to you. He had been so afraid that Dorie was going to tell him you had jumped on a flight back to the States. He has more time.

He was up practically all night, thinking of that loser’s hands on you. It makes him sick to remember how limp you had been in his arms when he had first picked you up from the snow.

The sitting room in the Gabris estate is sprawling — it’s a real space to entertain. There were a lot of parties here back in the day. Now, there’s a dust sheet over the piano and the nude portrait of Teodora’s lover is gone from above the mantle.

Bradley settles down into an armchair and pulls together his notes, sun pouring through the windows, a fog settling across his thoughts. 3pm. Three PM. That’s when he hears the eruption of laughter, bubbling up and spilling through the house. After that, comes the sound of wet shoes squeaking on the hardwood.

His chin propped against his fist, he cranes his neck as Zoe appears first in the hallway. She spots him and stops like a caught kid, her mouth falling open. Then, you. Then, Abi. All three of you are soaked head to toe, dripping water onto the floors.

You stare back at him dwarfing the patterned armchair, surrounded by papers, peering at you over the top of his reading glasses. He doesn’t say a thing, taking his time in looking the three of you over. Finally, his lips twitch.

”We went swimming.” Zoe breathes out, laughing.

Bradley hums against his hand, his eyes visibly flicker from your bare feet to the soaked clothes clinging to your body, and finally at your face. From behind his fist, a smirk toys at his lips.

He’s so grateful to see you look so mischievous. Anything but the way you were looking at him yesterday.

”I can see that,” He agrees, amusement dripping from his voice. Your smile turns sheepish as you cross your arms in front of your hips and shift your weight from left to right, and back again. “Did you get those pages that I asked you for all done.

”Most of ‘em.” Zoe nods. Eighty-percent still counts as most. Besides, you know that Bradley will listen if you plead your case. He hums again, a sound of understanding this time, and inches his knees further apart as he sits upright.

”Well, I take it that you’ll be a bit late to our study session.” He’s looking right at you with that devilishly handsome smile on his face, and a softness to his eyes that makes you want to pour yourself right into his lap.

“Shit,” You snap out of it, whipping your head around to look for a clock. Bradley glances down at his watch, already fully aware that you’re forty minutes late. He looks back to you, smiling. “I’ll get changed.”

”I’ll be here.” He tells you, looking back down to his work.

You glance down at the puddle you’re leaving on the floor, and then back up at the girls. They watch you blink like you’re remembering that they’re there.

“We’ll come up with you.” Abigail nods for you to go ahead and Zoe slips her palms into yours.

Bradley glances at the exchange over the top of his workbook, her hand in yours. The smile on your face as you peer back at them and head for the stairs. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally exhales.

His next breath in feels a little bit easier.

“So, how long do you usually have to spend with Bradley every afternoon?” Zoe asks, padding up the wooden stairs behind you. They creak with every step, but not enough for you to pretend not to have heard her question.

You shrug your shoulders, trying to at cool about it. Bradley would at cool about it. He doesn’t seem ashamed at all.

“It depends. He gives me different tasks to do. Sometimes we get through them quickly, other times he decides to be an ass about it.” That feels about right.

“Like class work?”

“Yeah,” You glance back over your shoulder as you reach the landing. “I’m not much use to him as a research assistant if I still don’t understand the class material. You know?”

“Right.” Abigail nods along with you.

“Well, I’d better go get dry…” You remember, gesturing to your door. They both nod along, but you don’t move. You hug your shoes and your bag to your chest and try to smile. “Thanks for inviting me today. I appreciate it.”

“Any time. You’re a good time.” Zoe grins, lifting her arm and draping it casually around Abigail’s shoulders.

Your goodbye is a brief nod and a pleased smile, before you turn and head back to your room. You strip out of your clothes and leave them to dry against the open window, then throw on something dry.

Bradley hears your shoes racing down the stairs and closes his book. You grab the archway and swing around the corner into the sitting room.

“Okay — ready.”

He braces his elbows against his knees and gives a small shake of his head, lips quirked. “Not here.”

The two of you walk along the dirt path in the opposite direction to the lake. Up ahead of you is a mile long stretch of trees, behind you is the Gabris’ courtyard. Bradley’s two paces in front with a cigarette dangling from his lips and his books tucked under his arm.

His shorts make his legs look even longer, up high on his thighs and stretched around the muscle. His sneakers still aren’t something a college professor would wear, but you’ve grown to like them. They’re very… him.

His oversized shirts and his white sneakers, and the gold pendant that sits between his collarbones are all parts of him that you have grown to adore. The curls at the nape of his neck and the way his broad shoulders slope down into his waist.

There are plenty of things that you could name.

The smell of tobacco that follows him isn’t one of those things.

“That’s a filthy habit.” You call ahead to him.

Bradley turns his head and looks at you over the top of his gold-rimmed sunglasses, grinning amusedly, “Yeah, I’ve got a couple of those. You might be familiar with a few.”

Your mouth twitches. You almost smile at him, briefly considering that downright awful habit he’s got of delving between your thighs. Then, your face twists into a strictly unamused scowl.

“Did you pick it up when you were in the Navy?” You ask, jogging to keep up with him.

“Kinda.” He answers you, looking down at you briefly before he checks ahead again. It’s not important to mention the cigarettes behind the science building in high school; that was more an act of defiance than an addiction.

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Is this you asking me to?” He replies, crossing over into the tree line, shade pouring over the two of you. You watch as he takes the cigarette between his fingers and flicks ash onto the floor, branches crunching under his feet.

You follow alongside him. “Would you, if I asked you to?”

“Would you put up with me being a lot grumpier?” He asks in return.

“Probably not.”

He huffs out a dry chuckle. Finally, he stubs the cigarette out. You follow him through the woods like his shadow until you reach a clearing. It’s a pleasant mix of sun and shade, a nice place to wait out the glaring afternoon heat. This is routine by now, you sit down beside each other and he tells you what you’re doing, then you each get to it.

He’s working on his book. His face gets real serious when he’s working on his book. Makes him look older, more mature. Almost makes you forget how deviously handsome he looks when he’s grinning at you, when he looks so handsome like this.

You’re translating prose. Poetry about lust and temptation. He would have switched out the curriculum but resources are limited out here, and you don’t say a word about disliking the work he has given you. He’s afraid to ask.

To burst this bubble of blissful ignorance you’ve got going, like yesterday never happened.

”So, Zoe and Abi — did you guys have fun today?” He asks without looking up from his work. That feels like a safe enough question. You’re laying on your stomach and don’t bother to stop working to look at him either.

”Mhm. Zoe’s clothes fell off the branch and got soaked, so we figured we’d all just jump in dressed. Cooled us off on the way home.”

He glances up, smiling softly. “Look at you — walking on the wild side.”

”I know, right?” You scoff.

He looks back down to his work, examining the artwork on the left page.

“So… how are you feeling today?” He asks cautiously. About Malcolm, of course. Bradley has noticed that you aren’t wearing your ring. You’d barely remembered taking it off. It doesn’t feel any different without it. It’s not exactly life-altering. It’s just jewellery.

”Mixed up,” You owe him honesty at least, considering your complicated relationship. You shrug your shoulders weakly and frown at the page. “Confused. Angry.”

He just nods.

She turns her head to look at him. Laying on his side, pretending to organise his notes, his sunglasses masking his expression.

”I don’t want it to change things.”

”How?” Bradley answers a little too quickly for a man pretending to be otherwise occupied. His brows draw together as he meets your gaze through those darkened lenses.

“Between us,” You tell him, resting your cheek against your hand and tilting your head just slightly. Laying in the grass, about a foot away from him. Close enough for him to reach out and trail his fingers from the centre of your back to the nape of your neck, and back again. You smile softly. “I like you, you know?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27@ahoyyharrington @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover

[wayward-sword]

The mug was slammed over the table. Chrom sprawled his arms over the said table, unmoving for a moment before he turned his head to where his drinking buddy was. His face was getting redder and redder due to the intoxication, and he started to slur in his words. "I mean pff... I doht...geet it ... why *hic* was she mad? haaaaa...." head turned back with a light thud sound as he hit his forehead against it. He continues to talk as if he was not making any sense already, now add being muffled. "Shez lookin' lahk I *hic* ME??????? ME!!!!!??? uh...I ... my...? .... I uh, what....?" he turns back to Zechariah. "Huh? Whadida I say?" blinks a couple of time, then he squinted his eyes as if he is trying to remember. "Fff...whatever ... you good... huh..you... *cough* *hic* didn't tell me you got a ......erm... " pointing vaguely at the empty space beside Zech. "twin? two huh.... one and Lay--*hic* cee ...makes a fuss...it's not like *hic* I'm not spendin' *hic* time with her ... huff... nice to meet you" he reaches hand to handshake the emptiness. "listen, buddy.." watch him try to talk to the second zech as if he can't hear them, "his wife--*hic* is scary...*hic* don't miss with her ..." giving him the 'i know it dont ask, look' [drunk ask hoho enjoy the chaos ]

It's not often that he drinks these days. As he gets older – mentally speaking, at least, given that his body didn't seem keen on catching up to his conscious awareness of the passage of time – Zech finds less appeal in alcohol than he did in his younger years. Maybe it's because having a happy family and friends to surround himself with robbed away any pressing dependencies on self-medicating to treat the scars of his heart. Maybe it was simply because he simply lost the taste for it? Inebriation was an entertaining pastime, to be sure, but one in which he finds less and less reason to indulge in.

Social drinking seems to have become the primary instigation for him to engage in alcoholic consumption at all, and it is for this reason that he finds himself situated at a table alongside the Exalt this evening. It would also seem he got an earful from his wife following the exchanging of missives penned in native languages. Poor man. Zech felt a bit sorry for him all things considered. In some ways, Lacie's demeanor and temperament rang with similarities to Sora's, and knowing his own wife's darker moods could only leave him to speculate just how badly Chrom might've received the proverbial "business" in kind.

Zech's learned to pace himself these days. Chrom was evidently upset enough to become quite deep in his cups, but the swordsman seemed contented to nurse each mug methodically. Enough to derive a mild buzz from the intoxication, but not so much that he's ended up the slurring mess that his fellow has been reduced to.

"Chrom... Brother, I'm gonna need you to listen and listen carefully..." Zech leans in, nearing himself to the other man in order to get his full attention. A part of him wonders if he should place a hand upon him in order to ensure that Chrom heeded him. He decides against it, at least for the moment. "Our wives are the easily jealous type, you get that? Can't say I blame 'em... I mean, if I caught anyone else around the camp makin' a pass at my Rose, I'd..."

Oh. That was a mistake. He felt a flicker of anger welling up within him at the notion, and though he tries to push it aside, the realization settles upon him that – come to think of it – their wives got along exceptionally well with one another. Perhaps too well. And maybe, if neither him nor Chrom ever managed to come into their respective lives, and if they had found one another first—

He leans back in his seat, suddenly losing his own composure and slumping where he sits. It's as though whatever vitality he may have had was sapped completely out of his body.

"...Y'know, you got a point. You ever notice how good Rose and Lace get on with each other? Where the hell do they get the nerve to get mad at us for bein' such buddies anyway? And I mean, we can't even say anythin' about it to 'em either, or they'll gang up on us. It's not fair. Not at all."

[thefanciestborrower]

Alright you heathens take these StarVores headcannons and run

First up we got my boy Luke 

Luke is 100% a prey lad no question

Despite that I don’t think he’d ever really been eaten before joining the rebellion aside from a few close calls

First person to actually eat him was Han out of necessity, and while he kinda freaked a bit he doesn’t mind so much anymore 

Probably only has a small handful of folks he’s okay being regularly eaten by

But he generally doesn’t have to worry about being grabbed 

I mean, would you try and eat a Jedi who didn’t wanna be eaten? 

Loves just being small in general tbh

Will perch on shoulders, in hair, sometimes you can even find him chillin in someone’s pocket 

He’s completely at ease around his x-wing buddies at any size and it’s real funny to see him using the force to hop from shoulder to shoulder with them like some sort of game 

Scares the crap out of c-3po every time 

Can and will use this ability to terrorize Han because that’s what friends do 

All in all he’s extremely competent even while all tiny and you don’t really have to worry about him 

When he’s eaten you can bet there’s gonna be a bit of theatrics accompanying it

Lots of playful fighting and laughter, though he settles down rather quickly once he’s swallowed 

He makes for good company and likes to chat while making himself comfy inside 

Unless you just ate 

He does NOT like sharing with food and will let you know 

Whiny Jedi lad 

Next up is Leia! 

She’s also a prey like Luke (cough they get it from Anakin cough) 

But unlike him she’s already used to being eaten long before episode 4

Comes with being an ambassador you know?

For her it’s generally more of a business thing than for fun 

Hidden transportation, easy escape should things go south, that sort of thing 

However I would not recommend just grabbing her either 

She might not be a Jedi but she can and will kick a tooth out should you try anything 

Ask Han

She treats getting eaten and being all small in general as the most normal thing in the world, cause for her it really is 

Likes perching in high out of the reach places just to keep an eye on everyone 

She enjoys shoulder rides as well 

And she’s super good at keeping her balance so you don’t really have to worry about her falling 

She generally won’t put up a fuss about being eaten if it needs to happen, and more often than not she’ll keep working or planning once she’s down 

Every once in a while though she might use it as a way to relax after a long day

And you best feel honored should she choose you for that  

Now for Han 

Poor Han is a pred for sure, and I feel like I gave him the short end of the stick here having to deal with prey Skywalker twins 

Being a smuggler it would shock me if the concept was completely foreign to him 

Not that he’s ever had to eat a person per say, but he’s worked with people who have and he’s certainly had to swallow his fair share of unpleasant things in order to get them past checkpoints and such

But living things had been a hard no for a while 

His first time eating someone was actually Luke’s first time getting eaten too, and it was rough on both of them 

But after that initial time he’s gotten a bit cheeky with it 

He’s grabby 

Tends to just grab people Luke whenever he feels like it and while the kid doesn’t mind, he got an earful after trying it with Leia 

Despite what most people think he actually has a hard time with excessive struggling and as such doesn’t like truly unwilling prey

Luke does it to annoy him 

Much as he isn’t a fan of struggling he’s weak for internal rubs 

Seriously you find the right spot and the man is putty in your hands 

He does have a habit of eating and drinking with people inside so watch out for that 

Usually it’s not on purpose unless whoever he’s got is being a pest 

But he tends to forget that whatever he eats is gonna end up the same place as them

Definitely not above threatening to eat someone if they get on his nerves 

Usually Leia 

But at the end of the day he’s fiercely protective of his friends and if you want them you’re gonna have to go through him 

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Seven Demon Lords’ Pet Human

So I’m quite fond of the idea that the lesser demons see MC as the brothers’ dumb pet human up until MC is revealed to be a five star badass who can control the brothers on a whim. But Himiko isn’t okay with being referred to as anyone’s “pet”, and after a very bad day, she’s going to let the brothers know that.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Genre: Half Crack Half Fluff

Warning: This story features my MC, who uses she/her pronouns, if that makes you uncomfortable no harm no foul, see you next time

“Just their pet human,”

“Aw, they let their cute widdle pet walk around all by herself~.”

“The brothers’ new pet looks so delicious…”

Himiko Nanami was not one for demeaning nicknames. She had told Luke over and over again that the reason people kept calling him a chihuahua was because he gave them a reaction, but she just couldn’t follow her own advice. A pet… the brothers’ pet… what complete and utter shit.

She had forged pacts with the seven lords of Hell. She had escaped death more times than she could count. On her first day at RAD, she had gouged out a demon’s eye with her headband for trying to eat her. She had walked Cerberus and survived. Himiko was no dainty little pet.

It was a tragedy that some of the demons that wandered the halls of RAD couldn’t see that. Not all the demons were irredeemable anti-human trash, some were quite sweet. But it only took one weird squishy grape to make Himiko refuse to eat the rest of the bowl. That’s how that saying goes, right?

It was supposed to be a good day, it was a Friday for Christ’s sake! But no, the world at large was conspiring to make Himiko’s forehead vein burst.

First period with Satan went normally for the most part, until the two paired up for an assignment and Himiko decided to give Satan a few pats on the head. A few snickers coming from a few rows behind her drew her attention, and right after Satan left to use the bathroom, that’s when she heard it. The first comment of the day.

“Aww, a pet petting her master, how sweet.”

When Satan returned, Himiko was holding a broken pencil.

To her credit, she didn’t dignify those idiots with a response, but their comment managed to burrow its way into her brain and settle there right when she snapped the pencil.

Second period shouldn’t have been so shitty, Himiko had friends in that class. Friends other than the brothers and the other exchange students, but no. Everything sucks in the Devildom.

Paimon had so sweetly offered to share some of his chips with her when he heard she had skipped breakfast. Himiko was in the middle of happily chowing down when some asshole decided to ruin the cute friendship moment.

“Geez Pai, I thought you’d be more responsible than that~.” A demoness a few rows ahead cooed. “Feeding other people’s pets without asking~.”

Paimon choked on the chip he was chewing on while Himiko gave the demoness a bone chilling glare.

“Sh-she’s not- I’m not-”

“How about you mind your own fucking business?”

The demoness only rolled her eyes and turned back to giggling with her friends. It was truly a shame that at least 60% of all the demon ladies in the school were incredibly mean and/or homicidal, a shame for Himiko because she’s a raging bisexual.

With her appetite lost, Himiko forfeited the rest of the chips to Paimon.

Lunch went by as normal as it could have gone. She sat with the brothers as usual and happily watched their antics. When she left the table to throw her trash away was when all hell broke loose.

“-Pet,”

“-Pet…”

“-Pet.”

“-Pet!”

All those damned whispers reached Himiko’s ears and if she had any less patience she would have pulled her hair out and screamed. When she got back to the table, she spent the rest of her lunch period in silence.

What’s worse was that her next class was with Solomon, and the only seat available was next to him. Great…

“Grouchy today, ms. Nanami?”

“Annoying today, mr. Wizard?”

Solomon let out a quiet and carefree laugh and rested his head on his hand. “Oh Himiko, you know I’m always up for being a little annoying.”

Himiko rolled her eyes and tried to pay attention to the teacher. “Whatever…”

Class went on, but Solomon didn’t let up on his quiet pestering.

“Himiiiiii, tell me what’s wrong, I won’t laugh.”

“Go to hell.”

“Poor choice of words, you’re there with me.”

“I hate you.”

“So mean, I’m just trying to help. Solomon the Wise is known for giving great advice!”

Himiko turned and looked at the immortal sorcerer next to her and saw his pitiful attempt at what looked like puppy dog eyes. She rolled her eyes again and turned back to her work.

“I thought you were known for ordering a baby to be sawed in half.”

“Hey!” Solomon huffed, crossing his arms. “The baby did not get sawed in half. The saner of the two women got to keep the baby, I was being smart.”

“Sure, sure.” Himiko couldn’t hold back a bit of a smile. To her own surprise, Himiko began to weigh the pros and cons of actually telling Solomon what was going on. Hm, on one hand, Solomon was the only other human that might possibly understand what Himiko was dealing with, on the other hand, Solomon was a known shifty bastard and could barely be counted as human at this point. In the end, human solidarity won out.

“Solomon,” Himiko began. “Have you ever gotten called a pet before? Like a demon’s pet..?”

Solomon thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Probably. I’ve been alive too long not to have been called every name under the sometimes lack of sun, but I’ve always been more widely known as someone who makes demons into his pets.”

“Mmm, sure.”

“But fret not Himiko, those closest to you know the truth. You’re no pet.”

Not exactly the heaps of comfort Himiko wanted, but at least Solomon answered truthfully and didn’t say anything that would get on her nerves-

“I don’t know why you’re so upset about that nickname though, you’d look amazing in a collar.”

For what happened to poor Solomon right after he said that, let’s just say a palm reader could read Himiko’s future off Solomon’s face.

In fourth period, Himiko had to hold herself back from bitchslapping someone else who decided it would be a good idea to test her. A quick word of advice to anyone in the Devildom who would like to survive an encounter with Himiko, never, ever, fuck with her headband.

“You fiendish demon!” Luke yapped, trying to help get Himiko’s headband back from the nasty awful no good demon who decided to pluck it off her head and hold it out of reach. “Give that back!”

“N’awwwwww, pet buddies!” The taller demon laughed and dangled the headband a little closer. “So cute! Someone get a picture for Devilgram-”

Luke slammed his foot directly into the demon’s kneecap. The demon practically shrieked and doubled over only to be met with Himiko’s knee in his gut. She daintily plucked the headband from his grasp and quickly pulled Luke out of the room.

“Are you okay?” The moment the two were far enough down the hall, Luke began to fuss over Himiko like a tiny nurse. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No buddy, I’m fine.” Himiko held out her hand for a high five. “Up high,”

Whack!

“Down low,”

Woosh!

“Too slow.”

“Hey!” Luke whined. “No faaaaaiiiiir!”

———————

No one wants their human to be grumpy, especially not the brothers, so when Himiko spent the rest of the time until dinner holed up in her room, they were a tad concerned.

“My human’s all saaaaaaaaad,” Mammon rested his chin on the table and whined. The rest of the brothers sans Asmo were sitting at the table awaiting dinner. “Himiko said she didn’t wanna play the Game of Life, and it’s like, the one game she’s good at…”

“Yeah, she’s been pissy all day.” Belphie added before quietly yawning. “What’d you do, Mammon?”

“Me?!” Mammon sputtered, practically scrambling out of his seat and pointing an accusatory finger at his brothers. “I didn’t do shit! What about you idiots?!”

“Well, let’s look at what we know,” Satan said, waving off Mammon. “During first period we partnered up for a project, I left to use the restroom, then when I came back she looked upset. During lunch when she left, she came back and didn’t speak the rest of the lunch period. Any theories?”

Beel raised his hand, and Satan nodded to him. “Himiko has terrible separation anxiety now, she can’t go too long without us.”

Satan gave Beel a few nods, then turned to the others. “That’s one guess. Anyone else?”

Mammon raised his hand, and Satan promptly ignored him.

“Oi! Pay attention to me!” Mammon stuck his hand in the air and waved harder. “She’s angry because she’s failin’ a class! Every time we’re not distractin’ her, she remembers!”

“I would have heard if she was failing a class.” Lucifer finally piped up from the head of the table, his face was buried in RAD’s newspaper. “You on the other hand, Mammon, are failing three of your four classes this semester.”

Mammon slid back into his seat and scratched the back of his neck. “About thaaaaaat, I need money for uh… for new books n’ pencils n’ shit. That’s why I’m failin’, you’ll lend me money, won’t ya big bro?”

Lucifer didn’t get to respond as Asmo burst into the door of the dining room with a pot of pasta that was almost half his height. “DINNER IS SERVED~!”

As everyone settled in to eat, Himiko finally made her appearance and plopped herself down in her usual seat next to Mammon and helped herself to the pasta with rosé sauce.

“It’s good! It’s good right?” Asmo peppered the group with questions about the food and how good he did. Himiko had to admit, this was damn good pasta. Smooth, creamy, cheesy, all that was missing was garlic bread. In a matter of minutes Himiko had cleared her first bowl and was going in for seconds.

“So Himiko,” Satan said as Himiko continued to shovel pasta into her face at a pace that could rival Beel. “We’ve noticed you’ve been looking a little upset today, care to satiate our curiosity?”

Himiko paused mid bite, which wasn’t doing wonders for her appearance considering she had sauce on the tip of her nose. But still, how sweet of her boys to notice, it made her cold dead little heart swell with love.

“Oh you know, just idiots at school not worth my attention.”

“What have they been saying?” Asmo asked, his voice unusually stiff.

“They’ve been calling me you guys’ pet.” Himiko grumbled. “How ridiculous is that?”

The clattering of forks and the chewing of food halted as the boys went completely silent. Himiko shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she looked around. Had what those demons said been a greater insult to the boys than she-

“Pfff- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Mammon erupted into laughter and the rest of the brothers followed suit.

“G-Geez,” Belphie snickered, feigning wiping a tear from his eye. “Humans are so sensitive.”

“Excuse me?!” Himiko gripped her fork so hard she was sure it would leave indents.

“I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Himi,” Levi said between bouts of cackling. “But you are a teeny tiny little normie human surrounded by well… us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?! That I should just roll over and take it!?” Himiko immediately turned and pointed at Belphie. “Don’t you dare.”

Belphie’s mouth was open to make a comment about Himiko’s poor choice of words, but the pact activated and any words died in his throat. Belphie flipped her off and Himiko returned the gesture.

“Himiko,” Beel was sweet enough to not laugh at Himiko’s predicament. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, people love their pets.”

As sweet as Beel thought his words were being, Himiko really wanted to send him to bed without dinner.

“Yes, yes, Beel’s right.” Satan took a deep breath and collected himself after his laughing fit had finally ceased. “It’s nothing to worry about, Himiko. It shouldn’t be bothering you. Just don’t listen.”

Himiko somehow gripped her fork even tighter as she levelled her ice cold glare at Satan. “Thank you so much for demonsplaining how I should deal with and feel about the very human problem of people seeing me as some toy.”

The venom in her words seemed to snap the rest of the table out of their giggly stupor, and Mammon gave Himiko a few pats on the back.

“Ah don’t worry about it, Himiko. I’ll fight any bastard who says anythin’ like that.” Suddenly realizing he hadn’t been a tsundere for five whole minutes, Mammon went red and snatched his hand away. “Ya know, just because you’d probably use the pact and order me to anyway…”

“I’m not a dere~” Levi began to softly sing, Himiko perked up and grabbed Mammon’s cheek.

“A tsun-tsundere~”

“Not that song again!”

That should have been the end of that whole debacle. Himiko’s decent mood had been restored and all was well! The gang chatted amicably for the rest of dinner. Himiko made sure to heap loads of praise on Asmo for his amazing pasta. She felt a part of her die when she went in for fourths and the spoon scraped the bottom of the pot.

Too bad nothing ever goes smoothly in the Devildom.

Since it was Asmo’s night to cook, it was Himiko’s night to do dishes, so she got up and began to clear the table. As she began to collect the unused knives, Lucifer, not looking up from his newspaper, handed Himiko his plate.

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

Himiko stopped dead in her tracks and her grip on the plate tightened. “Repeat that, Lucifer?”

“Thank you, pet, that’ll be all.”

A tiny smirk spread across Lucifer’s face, which only served to make Himiko’s blood boil. If he thought he could make a joke about that while she was still mad he had another thing coming.

As quick as a flash, she had whipped the plate straight at the ground, shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces, before Lucifer even had a chance to say anything, Himiko was standing in front of him with a frigid glare on her face.

“Lucifer, put your hand flat on the table and spread your fingers. Keep quiet.”

With no choice but to obey, Lucifer slapped his hand down on the dining table, though, the glare he was giving her wasn’t any less murderous. Not caring, Himiko’s gaze remained cold and calculating, she turned to the other brothers, who were rooted in place from sheer shock. “Stay.”

“I’d just like to get something out there to you seven,” Himiko said calmly, holding one of the knives in her right hand and waving it around like it was the most casual thing in the universe. “I, am no one’s pet,”

Himiko turned and slammed the knife right between Lucifer’s middle and index fingers, imbedding it deep in the table.

“Arm candy,”

The second knife was slammed right in between Lucifer’s middle and pointer finger.

“Or accessory.”

The final knife went between his index and pinkie finger. Himiko’s next words were slow and deliberate as she stared the strongest of the brothers directly in the eyes.

“I am your friend, and equal, I won’t accept being anything less, whether it’s a joke, or not. You agreed to those terms the day we made our pact, didn’t we Lucifer? Have you changed your mind?”

It was so quiet you could hear Henry 2.0 swimming around in Levi’s room upstairs. No one dared to breathe as the seconds ticked past.

Finally, Lucifer responded, his voice tinged with exasperation. “No Himiko, I haven’t.”

“Good,” A small triumphant smile appeared on Himiko’s face as she removed the knives from the table and finished up cleaning the table. “That goes for the rest of you boys too, got it?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Mhm.”

“Yes…”

As Himiko walked into the kitchen to do everyone’s dishes, they quietly reminded themselves exactly who they were dealing with. Himiko Nanami was no dainty little human, no no no, she was the one master to rule them all, and by god was she going to make sure no one ever forgot.

——————

AAAAAAAA THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!! I really need to write more stuff with Himiko! Inspiration struck at like… 10 this morning and I just ran with it.

Now on one hand, I can see that people might think that Himiko overreacted to Lucifer’s little joke a tad. Buuuuuuuuuuut she’s gotta shut down that shit early, right? She doesn’t want “pet” to be the next “chihuahua”.

Lucifer’s probably trying to stick his nose back in his newspaper as he wonders whether he’s incredibly enraged or unbelievably turned on.

Hope you all enjoyed! Now back to the regularly scheduled shitposting.

[triplexdoublex]

Dada

Requested by @somasourchi “ Can you do one where Y/n has a baby and she finds Colson talking to the baby at the middle of the night or something like that please??”

Parings: Colson x Reader

Warnigs/Tags: none pure fluff

A/N: Happy Father’s Day! This is an AU Colson’s not famous in this.

You were exhausted and Colson knew it; a single mom working doubles just to make ends meet, what little sleep you got interrupted by your son's teething. He tried to help out as much as he could despite not being the child’s father — his real father had taken off when you told him you were pregnant. Colson had come into your life shortly after you had given birth; an angel with jumper cables when your car had broken down leaving you stranded on the side of the road with a newborn. He's been in both your lives since. He was just a friend at first, staying in contact to see if you had everything you needed, and supplying you when you didn’t. He knew what it was like to be a struggling parent, he had opened up to you about having been there himself. It didn’t take long for the friendship to blossom into something more and Colson to move in with you.

When it was just you and your son, alone in your apartment you were always on edge, sleeping with one eye open, afraid you might sleep through a needing cry if you let yourself fully crash the way your body needed to. And you were right, because that first night, comforted by the safety of Colson’s presence, your body gave in, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep. You didn’t even awaken when your son began to fuss about his teeth. Colson knew how bad you needed this sleep and he was gonna make sure you got it.  Before your son's cries got any louder, Colson quickly and quietly snuck out of bed and into your son's room to soothe him. 

“Whatsamatter, buddy? Your teeth hurt? Come see Colson,” he spoke sweetly, scooping the fussy boy from his crib. He gently swayed him in his arms as he quietly made his way to the kitchen. “Let’s see if your mama has any teethers in here for you,” he said as he opened the freezer. “Aww here we go, a frozen washcloth” Colson handed it to him, and headed back to the baby’s bedroom. “Does that feel better?” He watched as your son gnawed on the cool cloth. “Seems like it,” he smiled at the now content child. “Ya know these were always my daughter Casie’s favorite thing to chew on when she was teething too. Maybe you can meet her one day, she’s a big girl now”. 

With his gums relieved your son started to fall back asleep in Colson’s caring arms. “Alright little guy, let’s get you back in bed.” Colson placed him back in his crib but as Colson turned to make his way to the door he heard your son start to fuss again.

 The boy pulled himself up in his crib and reached out to Colson with grabby hands “Dada” he whined.

Instantly Colson melted and picked the child back up. “Aww buddy, I wish. Maybe one day. But that’s not up to me, that's up to your mama. First I gotta get up the courage to ask her to marry me, but I’m afraid it’s still too soon and I dunno what she’d say—“

“I’d say yes,” you interrupted from the doorway wiping tears from your eyes.

“Oh god, how long have you been standing there?” Colson asked, feeling his face flush with nerves and embarrassment.

“Since you came back with the washcloth, I could hear you guys over the baby monitor and I couldn’t resist sneaking over to watch you with our son.”

“Our son? Really, you mean that? Colson questioned excitedly. 

“Of course I mean it,” you stepped closer, “Just like I meant it when I said I would say ‘yes’. I’d be honored to be Mrs. Baker,” you went on tiptoes to kiss him. “C’mon,” you said reaching out to take your son. “Wanna spend the rest of the night in mama and dada’s bed?” 

“Dada!” the boy repeated, pointing at Colson. Your little family was complete. 

[backtoyuta]

NCT 127: How they would be as coworkers in a shitty office

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

❁ [Taeil] King of the welcome wagon; If it was your first day working in a small dinky business, Taeil will make it his sole responsibility to make the environment as inviting as possible. After all, the business wasn't some glamorous well known company, nor was it an exciting new start up, so Taeil made it his mission to paint the office as pretty as he could before you could decide if the job was too boring to keep. If you ask any of his co-workers they'll tell you nobody put him in charge of welcoming the newbie, but it seemed everybody but you noticed him do a double take at the receptionist's desk where you waited to be shown around. Soft moments included him making you a coffee every time he left to make his own, making a point of clearing a little space in the communal fridge for your lunch and hanging around while trying to maintain a respectful distance in case you had any queries so he could be the first to answer them. If you were low-key dreading your first day, you kinda forget about the nerves quickly because of his kindness and tells you cheerfully "See, we don't bite." Will make sure you have everything you need, down to the last sticky note and ball point pen, and smiles bashfully at you when you go to thank him.

❁ [Johnny] cheesy office romance; It was quite impressive really, the fact that Johnny managed to unlock every single office romance cliche you could think of and he wasn't subtle about it either. Though there was no policy really about dating co-workers, the whole situation was a tiny bit embarrassing given the blatant flirting from the titan walking around in his shirt and tie, always throwing devilish smiles from over the photocopier. Even if his desk was miles away from yours, there would always be an excuse to stroll by your work space to drop off some paperwork personally, or remind you of the meeting happening in the afternoon despite the email reminder going around. Johnny really put his bladder through it since he now took too frequent trips to the water cooler that was so conveniently placed next to your desk. The whole office gagged when you finally agreed to go for drinks after work. The hours were spent buying each other pints and admiring him with his tie loosened and shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing the delicate tattoos that decorated the skin there before calling it a night and letting him kiss you on your porch after walking you home. You kind of became the height of office gossip, which Johnny thrived in, but you couldn't really be mad when you were dating that tall glass of water after all.

❁ [Taeyong] The receptionist with first aid training; Stapling your finger was embarrassing enough, imagine the heat flooding your cheeks when the receptionist appears at your desk clutching the first aid kit, big kind eyes glancing at your finger empathetically. Taeyong was the first face you saw when you walked through the door, that alone making a wonderful first impression, also he was a very diligent worker. He never made a fuss when you asked him to fax something, make a memo or photocopy, and when you had to ring the office because you left your keycard and needed to be let in, he laughed that off with you too while assuring that it happened all the time. On the blasted day you aimed the stapler at your paper but instead caught your finger, Taeyong was the first to perk from behind his desk at your exclamation of "Ow!" and was by your side before you knew it. He apologised profusely at the sting of an anti-bacterial wipe and wrapped your finger gingerly in a plaster, his chair scooted towards you and your knees bumping occasionally. You were pretty sure every female in the office was crushing on him and you were one of many, but you couldn't help the blush when you received a private IM chat asking if you wanted to get coffee after work: "Date? :)" he wrote at the end of the message. You wasted no time typing on your computer a reply, sneaking a glance at his face from behind the desk and exchanging a smile before looking busy once again.

❁ [Yuta] The guy that lowkey terrified you; Yuta was the co-worker that, whether it was on purpose or not, pushed you away with sheer intimidation and sinfully good looks. When you first encountered him in the office you were sure he was a model undercover, and when that was debunked you were sure he must have had a much higher level and higher paying job than you. His presence read corporate, the cologne you sometimes caught a whiff of smelt expensive and you could easily picture him in a big leather chair in a tall glass building barking orders at people. What surprised you was behind the intimidating aura, lay the humility of any of your other co-workers. All it took was one painfully awkward conversation in the break room and with the power of pointless small talk you learnt that his weekend plans didn't involve a modelling side hustle like you expected, but rather being a homebody, watching animated movies and cooking dinner for one instead. When you did finally enter an established relationship with him, expect impulsive moments like being tugged into the copier room so he can press his lips to yours and run his hands through your hair, or intense staring contests when other male co-workers demanded your attention. Overall, he was terrifying, but his redeemable qualities involved making dates after work so you had something to look forward to, buying your favourite cake during office parties and volunteering to do overtime with you so you would always be entertained.

❁ [Doyoung] The manager that scares you shitless; For the position of local branch manager, Doyoung exuded way more power and intimidation than what was probably warranted. Maybe that was why he managed to get the branch performing so well, everybody dreaded being called into his office for "friendly chitchat" after making a small mistake. When you first arrived, you steered as clear from him as possible, only venturing near his office when absolutely needed. What you didn't see was the way he would watch you intently in your little office nook, always appreciating how hard you worked and how cute you looked in your office get-up. You often squirmed at the amount of eye-contact he gave you when he ran meetings and you would glance around to see if anyone else was experiencing the same thing. Nope, just you. When he did call you into his office that one time you were quaking in your shoes. You had already convinced yourself you were fired before you had even reached his office door, but the feeling was replaced soon enough with confusion when he did eventually speak to you. "I just wanted to ask... would you be interested in.... this corporate training program?" He rushed. My god, your boss was just as awkward as the next bumbling guy. It would be a while before he asked you on an official date, dinner for two, also quite a bit of paperwork to fill out with HR, but you would come to realise his icy exterior wasn't all that icy when he wasn't in work-mode.

❁ [Jaehyun] The temp that never left; Jaehyun was fresh from university, now venturing into the world of work but still had the boyish aura that set him apart from the rest of the men in the office. From the way he spoke to you over lunch in the break room you could tell he was full of ambition, but also didn't seem to be in any rush to leave this job any time soon. Jaehyun was the guy who you initially tried not to get too close to, since you were under the impression that he would be leaving after completing the temporary placement and when he left it would hurt like a bitch. However, you could have sworn his placement ended like a month ago, but eventually you learnt that he somehow managed to talk himself into a full-time position. "Oh that, yeah, I guess I just realised I had more reasons to stay." He shrugged as casually as he could when you asked about it. You couldn't deny that you were happy, not when you saw his smiling face in the conference room saving you a seat, hearing his outrageous stories from uni and always being the two to get a little too drunk at corporate parties and being sent home in a taxi of shame. Romance blossomed when you remembered that one drunken kiss in the backseat and you both bonded when your boss gave you the cold shoulder after arriving to work a little more than dishevelled and with a hangover.

❁ [Jungwoo] Desk buddy; Honestly, who could hate their job when they had a sweet Jungwoo sitting at the desk adjacent to theirs. You kinda scored when your boss appointed you this specific desk because Jungwoo took to you almost embarrassingly quick. It made your heart swell looking at all the little knick knacks on his desk; toys to fiddle with and colourful sticky notes, this was just one part of his persona. You were a little shocked when he offered you a cigarette during the lunch break, kind of exposing a duality you didn't know existed, but nobody could be that wholesome of a person. Monday to Friday 9-5 was filled with Jungwoo ping-ponging back and forth between these traits, any off handed comments he would mutter to you when the boss was giving an announcement or the conversations you would overhear him having with a friend over the phone would remind you he wasn't a total puppy of a human being. However, the way he always offered to share a snack and would flick paper and notes at you playfully was also very much him being himself. You always fluttered a little at the smirk he would throw your way when your manager was talking something boring or ridiculous, it seemed those smirks were only reserved for you. It didn't take long before he became your best friend in the office, if he wasn't in that day you were in the right mind to just call it quits yourself (and vice versa), he was the guy that made the long hours that much more bearable.

❁ [Mark] The bumbling intern; When it came to responsibilities in the work place, you tried to delegate as little of that as possible to Mark the intern. It was cute really, the guy put in 110% effort into his tasks and yet when it came to coffee orders, photocopying or sending out a memo, something nearly always went wrong. You couldn't help but admire his enthusiasm, also that he made an effort to know everybody in the office, including the cleaners. Mark was one of the first people to greet you when you joined, waving around a little notebook of Starbucks orders and a company card to splurge, urging you to write down whatever you wanted. A simple task right? Rookie mistake. Bless him, you would never tell him how his mistake of getting full dairy rather than the soy you requested led to a night on and off the toilet, but that just scratched the surface of his office blunders. Somehow, he never cost the company too much, but there was a reason why the poor boy never got promoted beyond intern. He wasn't deterred though, he'd lean up against your desk while you made idle chit chat and he'd tell you that he liked his job and he didn't aspire to be the best in this business. Where he really proved himself was during company functions, you'll never forget during the annual employee bbq when he asked you your favourite song so he could sing it melodically accompanied skilfully with a guitar. Mark's contributions to the work place were always a little unpredictable, but he kept things interesting and people, including you, genuinely enjoyed having him around.

❁ [Haechan] Probably the reason you get fired; Even in the workplace, Haechan can't deny himself a bit of mischief. He made a stellar first impression by rocking up half an hour late, sending your boss a half arsed apology and plonking down at the desk across the room from yours. To be honest, he kind of annoyed you at first, his attitude came off immature and you didn't appreciate how distracting he was when you had work to do. However, things started to change at some point. Haechan was the guy that convinced you to ditch the office party and sit on the rooftop with him to watch the city lights, the guy that sent out ridiculous memos just to catch you smile and the guy eventually became the reason for you own demise after he started picking you up for breakfast most mornings. When the manager called you in his office after being late the third time in a row, you ducked your head and mumbled something about traffic while hiding a croissant wrapper in your pocket, Haechan covered a laugh with a cough and apologised on behalf of both of you. When you asked him about why he never seemed to give a shit about anything, you learnt that it was because he had a taste for adventure; "Don't tell me you wanna stay and work here forever? Don't you wanna do something more... exciting with your life?" He asked you incredulously, like the answer was obvious. He kinda got you, no, you didn't want to work in a dingy office for the rest of you life. To be honest, when he painted a picture of moving to a big city, or taking a road trip, or just fucking off to the suburbs you didn't hate the sound of that either. When you were both sat there in your manager's office, signing off on a severance package, you weren't even mad. You didn't have time to be, Haechan was already clasping your hand and leading you to his car and laughing about finally being free, tugging his tie from around his neck whilst driving no where in particular- the start of an adventure.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, toy play, forced masturbation, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Again, I’m always grateful to anyone who reads. Take care.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Wayward ho, away we go

💀💀💀

You bent and picked up your phone. The screen protector was cracked and peeling. You lifted it off and checked for any real damage. The stream had ended but it was still operational. You tucked it away as you looked between the bikers and grabbed your jacket.

“Well, thanks for the show,” you headed for the door but found yourself shadowed.

You swung the door out into the cold and that man, Sam, followed you onto the beaten down snow across the sidewalk. He stopped you before you could evade him and cross the street. You turned back and squinted at him.

“You know, I didn’t even get to pay my tab,” you pulled away from him roughly.

“So, do I get a name yet?” he asked.

“You guys are weird,” you grimaced, “no.”

“Come on, I just saved your ass,” he crossed his arms as his breath fogged before him, “I mean, you kinda owe me.”

“Maybe your friends need to learn to control their tempers,” you scoffed and hopped over the snow to cross the street. As you expected, he kept on and as you came to the other side, you turned on him. “Look, dude, you know that whole hard-to-get thing is a myth. I’m not interested.”

He chuckled under his breath and shoved his hands into his coat, “sure,” he smirked, “I can’t let you walk home alone. Not after you go and insult the whole club. Do you really not know the shit that is aimed in your direction right now?”

“Are you talking about yourself or…” you said wryly and spun back to your path, “it’s a small town, I’ll make it home.”

“Oh yeah, it is a small town,” he caught up to you and kept step with you, “you think I don’t already know where you live?”

You ignored him and zipped up your jacket as the cold began to seep in. As he said your name, you stopped short. A chill went through you that wasn’t the winter.

“You’re a creep,” you said.

He laughed again and slung his arm over your shoulder. You tried to wiggle him off but he kept you firmly in place against him. He began to walk, pushing you forward across cracked edges of ice left from diligent shovels.

“Honey, let me tell you something, what I did back there, you’re not just walking away scot-free, you get that? You want me gone? Well, then you can find out what happens without me watching your back,” he said as he squeezed you, “I can go back right now and tell those boys it’s free hunting. You won’t make it past the corner.”

You stiffened and shifted. You were never the brightest, you made dumb decisions, but you knew then this was worse than any before. Your fun time was really a big fucking mistake. How many warnings did you need before you realised how stupid you really were? It wasn’t just a meme, it was like the godfather sent a horse head straight to your door.

“Hmm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you so quiet,” he mused as his arm slipped and his hand went to the small of your back. He turned you down your street and you glanced around at the familiar houses, “listen, you’re probably scared shitless right now? Or should be if you were smart enough to notice the gun on my buddy’s hip? Or the one on mine?”

“Is this how you always get girls?” you croaked through your dry mouth as you closed in on your nan’s house.

“I’m sure other guys like the whole snarky manic pixie dream girl thing you got going on, but I’m not other guys,” he returned as he stopped you just at the end of your grandmother’s walk, “and you didn’t just fuck around with a couple of bikers tonight, you insulted the whole club. In fact, I’m a little pressed about it myself.”

He reached out and slid two fingers into your jacket pocket. He took your phone out and turned it in his hand.

“No more of this,” he put it in his back jean pocket, “not tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll go over the rest of it but… if I see one TikTok or one meme, I’m going to be knocking on that window just above your bed.”

You blanched and peeked over your shoulder. The curtains moved as you caught your nan’s grey hair disappear behind it. You put on that stubborn pout you always got when things didn’t go your way and narrowed your eyes.

“You know this isn’t normal, right?” you whined.

He snickered and puffed out his chest, “this is Birch. This is how things go.” He reached out and ran his thumb over your chin, “you’re young, you’ll learn.” He winked and looked over at your nan’s house and waved with two fingers. “Tell the old lady I say hi,” he grinned, “but I can always tell her tomorrow.”

You scrunched your lips as felt like folding inward. He turned and strode off back down the street, his shadow fading into those cast by the streetlights. You sighed and headed up the walk and pounded your soles up the stairs. You let yourself in but faced another obstacle in your night.

Your nan sucked on a cigarette as she watched you unzip your coat.

“I thought you quit,” you said as you hung your coat on the rack.

“I thought I told you to stay away from the club,” she sniffed.

“Well… I tried,” you lied poorly.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you did,” she flicked the ash into the carpet without concern, “I’m an old lady now, I can’t help you.”

“He’ll go away. He’s just… you know how guys are,” you knelt to undo your boots.

“I do, do you?” she challenged, “I don’t remember many boyfriends gracing my stoop.”

“He’s not--”

“That man will make himself whatever he wants to be,” she gristled, “that’s how they work.”

“Look,” you stood and rubbed your forehead, “I know I fucked up. Can you just--”

“Oh, I won’t just,” she snapped, “let me tell you something, don’t be afraid to grab a man by the balls and twist. It saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Nan--”

“I’m not saying you should, just giving you options,” she puffed out smoke, “but you gotta be smart and make the shot count.”

“I don’t… get it,” you blinked.

“You will know,” she tilted her head, “women got a sixth sense. You’ll find out soon enough.”

💀

Your nan’s words stuck in your head. Your day off was no longer as exciting. You woke with a knot in your stomach and a dull stone behind your eye. You descended to join your grandmother for coffee, restless as you didn’t have your phone to keep you busy. You fidgeted and drank the bitter brew without a hit of sugar or milk.

There was a lingering shade of dread as the wise widow’s words swirled in your head with the strange man’s promise. He said he’d be back, he didn’t say what time, he didn’t say for what, but he said he would. As much as you rolled your eyes at the club, those men proved they had conviction and Sam had shown himself to be persistent.

You ate porridge with cinnamon and fake sugar. Your grandmother’s daily fare. You left her to her crosswords and her ramblings about the daily news. You told her to change the channel and lighten up before you went. She quipped back at you to “smarten up” and for once, you had no rebuttal; she was right, it was only that it was likely too late.

You sat in bed and watched Netflix. You had your laptop but you didn’t dare look at your TikTok as it just reminded you of the night before. It all began to sink in as you felt the thick arm around your neck and heard the rough gristle of the boss’ voice. You only realised then how close you’d been to biting it and it made your skin crawl.

Hours passed and you began to pace and fuss around with random pens and books. Maybe he forgot, maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe it had all been threats to make you stop. Well, it worked and you would delete your TikTok once you got the nerve to open it.

Then you heard the heavy boots on the stairs and the pounding at your door extinguished the hope disguised as doubt. You cringed and stood in one place as you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You crossed your arms and chewed your lip. 

You were very bad at thinking things through. You didn’t consider that you hardly knew this man, though the fact was plain in your mind. You didn’t consider that you’d rarely been alone with a man. You didn’t consider that you knew exactly what his vulgar looks and suave words meant and that your denial could not erase them and all of these things were obvious and unavoidable.

A tapping came at the window beside the door and he waved to you as the blur in your vision cleared. You bit down on the inside of your lip and made yourself cross to the door. He turned the handle as you did and pushed his way past your reticence. He stepped in as you stumbled back.

You were good at acting cool, at being the quirky friend, the goofball, but when it came down to it, you were just clueless. It was better to seem apathetic and not let on how much of a loner you really were. You always wanted to be one of the cool kids but never really were.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he kicked the snow off his boots and it powdered over the mat, “this is a cute little place you have.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m scared, okay? I’ll delete everything and won’t do it again,” you raised your hands defenselessly, “you made your point--”

“Have I?” he sniffed as he let his leather jacket fall down his arms, “because I’ve been thinking all day. How to punish you. You see, these things, you have to be punished. That’s the rules.”

“I…” you backed away from him slowly as he sat in the wicker chair behind the door and unlaced his boots.

“Not my rules, the club’s,” he said flatly, “now, don’t be lookin’ at me like that because if I’d left you with those other boys, you’d be in the rubble of that garage.”

You gulped and hugged yourself as your eyes rounded. His eyes clung to you and he grinned as he stood.

“Well, I know you’re telling the truth at least,” he said, “you’re scared.”

He neared and walked past you. He circled you and slapped your ass. You flinched and he chuckled. You were startled at how quickly he’d disassembled you. You tried to ready yourself mentally all day for his arrival and yet you could never be prepared for that instance.

He strode along the other side of the bed and pulled out the top drawer of your night stand. He shuffled through your things and slammed it. He turned back and went to your dresser and slid out the slender drawer of necklaces and random receipts. He felt around blindly and you heard the familiar roll against the wooden bottom.

“Ah, jackpot,” he pulled out the silicone vibe and spun it between his fingers as you watched him over your shoulder, “I knew a girl once, kept it hidden under her mattress, another had this vase on her desk… but mostly, no one puts much thought into hiding when no one’s looking.”

“What are--”

“Shhhh,” he hushed you as he put his finger against his lips, “it’s a very simple punishment and if I’m being honest, and let’s be clear I’m being very generous here, it’s not much punishment at all.” He took your hand and pushed the vibe against your palm, “you just gotta use that.”

You furrowed your brows as his warm hand closed yours around the silicone and he squeezed. You trembled and he let you go as he winked.

“Chop, chop,” he clapped his hands, “I can always come up with something else.”

You searched his face as he backed up and leaned on your dresser, arms crossed over his thick chest as his biceps bulged through his long sleeves. You peered down at the toy in your hands and traced the subtle curve with your thumb.

“Get comfortable, honey,” he coaxed, “when you finish, we’re done… for tonight.”

You were breathless as you turned away from him. Your head spun and you recounted all your mistakes as they rushed over you. You were so stupid. You couldn’t blame anyone but yourself but that didn’t make it any easier. 

And you couldn’t do it. Even alone, you were always filled with the sense that everyone knew what you were doing with the vibe. That some lurker would hear you and expose your secret. A guilt atoned only in your pleasure.

“Tick, tock,” he chirped as you heard the wood groan against his weight, “you need help?”

“N-no,” you stuttered and dropped the toy on the bed.

You fumbled with your fly for what felt like forever. Your hands were shaking so bad and stopped as you asked yourself what you were doing. What you had to. You had no doubt in his promises. You were learning the hard way like you always did.

You shimmied your jeans down and slid them to your ankles. You got up on the bed and he tutted. 

“Panties,” he snapped his fingers, “don’t be shy.”

You didn’t look at him as you lifted your ass and tugged down your panties. You kept your legs together as you unhooked them from your ankles and shoved them aside. You cleared your throat and reached for the toy as his figure loomed along the top of your vision. You clicked the button and stared at the buzzing vibrator.

“Almost there, honey,” he purred, “I’m starting to think you’re liking this already.”

You sucked in your breath and pushed your legs apart as you closed your eyes. You put your hand on the bed behind you and leaned back as you shoved the toy against your cunt and hissed as it rolled over your clit. You cupped it with your palm and moved it over your bud as the ripples flowed from your core.

You clamped your lips in your usual habit. You held in the moans that threatened and tried to ignore the soft breath of the man in the room. Your whole body was alight with shame and lust fed by the vibrations. You dropped your head forward and winced as you sensed him come closer.

“Oh, honey, look at you just diving right in,” he taunted, “that’s it… you don’t gotta be quiet with me.”

“St-st-stop,” you rasped out, “I can’t--”

“You are,” he slithered, “now keep going. I see you getting close already.”

You squeezed your eyes tight and gripped the toy between two fingers and swirled the tip around your clit. You wanted it to be over and despite yourself, his voice fed your need for release. You hummed between your teeth and arched your back as you rocked your hips against the vibe hungrily.

“Mm mm mm, honey, I don’t think you could handle a man,” he teased.

You gasped and panted as you felt the pressure pulse and you sped up. Your other arm shook and collapsed as you fell onto your back and writhed as you closed your legs around your hand and the toy. You came with a whimper as your body shook and you turned onto your side as the orgasm echoed through you.

“Very good,” he cooed and you felt a dip in the bed. You opened your eyes as he leaned his knee on the edge, “smile for the camera, honey.” You gaped at the lens of your phone and snickered as he lowered it, “now that… I think that might go viral.”

“Wha-- No,” you sat up and reached out as he stepped back and you nearly toppled over the side of the bed.

“Hmm, I might keep it to myself,” he tapped his fingertip against the back of the phone, “I don’t really like to share…” he faced you again and tucked the phone away, “I usually keep my girls to myself.” You blinked and bent your legs as you tried to cover your bottom half. He pushed his chest out and exhaled, “you are mine, right, honey?”

[seijorhi]

Hi, I saw ur post about requests closing soon so I figured I’d give ya another, but it’s okay if ya don’t get to it anytime soon since you have so many!! Can I request Yandere Suga and Daichi with a fem! darling who’s oblivious to them, and they both maintain the image of friends in front of others but they’re actually fighting each other for your love, but then you start dating someone else and they both team up? I 💕 your writing so much, I’m excited to see what you do 😌

Yes of course bby! Hope you like it 💕

Daichi Sawamura x female reader, Sugawara Koushi x female reader

TW implied non-con, slight nsfw, manipulation, abuse of power (kinda), minor violence, mentions of grief

Tug O’ War

You meet Daichi first, on the outskirts of Miyagi thanks to a blown tyre and a dead phone battery. It’s just after nine pm and you’re ready to resign yourself to abandoning your car and hiking the rest of the way when the police cruiser pulls up, and sitting behind the wheel is Officer Daichi. 

Sawamura, he tells you on the drive into town.

“So I take it you’re not from around here?” he asks, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

There’s a small smile adorning his face, but you know he’s just being polite, trying to break the somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Truth be told you don’t mind the quiet. With his radio playing quietly in the background, you’re still trying to sort through your thoughts, prepare yourself for what’s waiting for you when you arrive. 

But that’s not his problem, and you don’t want to be rude, so you shake your head with a faint smile of your own. “I am actually… or I was, I guess. I moved away after high school.”

A lone eyebrow quirks, “Oh yeah? So what brings you back to Miyagi then? Family?”

Fingers twist in your lap.

“… Something like that.” 

Maybe it’s because of the nerves eating away at your stomach, or maybe it’s just been a while since you’ve been back, but the drive to your sister’s house feels like it takes longer than it should. Daichi makes easy conversation the whole drive, and by the time you pull up out front of your old childhood home you find yourself glad of the temporary reprieve. 

“Thank you. For the lift, I mean,” you tell him, standing awkwardly off to the side as he lifts your suitcase out of the trunk and passes it over to you. “I would have been up for one hell of a walk if you hadn’t come along.” 

He grins down at you, laughing not unkindly, “It is kind of my job, but you’re welcome. I could hardly leave you stranded, now could I?”

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can speak a word the front door of the house is thrown open and a tiny figure barrels out onto the front lawn. You have a split second to brace yourself before impact, tiny arms wrapping around your middle, “Auntie!!!” 

A bewildered Daichi watches as you smile (genuinely, perhaps for the first time that night), ruffling the boy’s hair. “Hey buddy, how’s my favourite little man?” 

Glancing up, you spy your sister standing in the open doorway and your smile fades a touch. Your nephew’s already excitedly chattering, blissfully oblivious to the situation - a minor miracle in and of itself - as he eagerly tugs you back up towards the house. 

It’s only when you’re halfway up the driveway that you remember Daichi.

A glance back over your shoulder confirms your suspicion - he’s still standing there, watching the odd display with a slightly confused expression, though to his credit he manages to quickly school his features back into something a touch more befitting an officer of the law when he realises he’s been caught.

“Thank you again, really. I appreciate it. You’re kinda my hero tonight.”

He nods, and it might be a trick of the dim light, but you swear you see his cheeks flush pink, “Anytime.”

Just as he promised, your car is picked up by a local towing company the very next morning before you’re even out of bed. The tyre is replaced without too much fuss, but when you go to pay, the mechanic simply shakes his head and tells you it’s all been taken care of.

You make a mental note to swing by the station and thank Daichi (again) in person.

***

It’s only fitting, you suppose, that you meet Suga a few days later. 

Thursday’s your sister works late, which leaves you to pick your nephew up from school. You’re thankful that they’re already aware of the situation, nobody questions why a veritable stranger is passing through the gates - at least, not after your nephew perks up at the sight of you, shouting your name as he hastily tries to shove his arms through his backpack. In his excitement he almost trips - would have tripped - if not for the silver haired man who catches him before he can stumble, setting him right with a shake of his head.

“Please slow down, Daisuke. You’ll hurt yourself,” he chastises gently. 

Your nephew pouts, and you can’t help but chuckle a little as he ducks his head in shame as you approach. “Hey bud, did you have a good day?”

Hazel eyes regard you curiously as your nephew clings to your legs, nodding before burying his face into your side. 

“You must be Y/N,” the man - Daisuke’s teacher you can only assume - says as he straightens up. 

Considering your nephew had all but screamed it across the courtyard, there’s not really a need to confirm it, but you nod anyway, accepting his hand when he offers it. 

He’s tall and handsome - though maybe handsome’s the wrong word. Pretty, maybe - his features are soft and delicate, with long eyelashes and eyes you could quite easily lose yourself in, truth be told.

“His mother told us you’d be coming by every now and then to pick him up. It’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Sugawara, Daisuke’s teacher.” He pauses, biting his lip for a moment before exhaling quietly. “I’m sorry, by the way, about…”

You’re quick to wave him off, ignoring the painful tug in your chest, “Please, it’s- I-I’m not… It’s fine.” 

It’s very much not. 

Even as you say the words your hand finds its way to Daisuke’s hair, stroking it gently as his grip tightens. You’ve never been good at dealing with grief, your own or anybody else’s, but you can’t stand the platitudes - even those with the best of intentions. 

Sugawara frowns faintly but he doesn’t push you and desperate to change the subject you force a smile on your face, “So, you’re the famous Suga I’ve heard so much about! He absolutely adores you, you know? You’re almost all he talks about at home.”

He laughs, and just like that you feel the tension in the air dissipate. “Oh, is that so? I guess I could say the same about you. I’ve heard nothing but ‘auntie Y/N’ all week.”

Your cheeks heat, and you gaze fondly down at the boy still clinging to your side. “He’s a good kid.”

Daisuke chooses that moment to pipe up, launching into a detailed recount of his day, much to your and Suga’s mutual amusement. 

And neither you nor Daisuke notice that while you’re engrossed in his retelling, Sugawara’s pretty hazel eyes are focused on you, a soft smile playing across his lips. 

Thursday afternoon pick ups quickly morph into Tuesday, Thursday and Friday afternoon pick ups as well as Monday morning drop offs, and you don’t mind one bit. For one, you know that your sister appreciates it more than she lets on and you would do anything to make this even the slightest bit easier for her, and it gives you a bit more time to spend with Daisuke, which you’ve missed more than you care to admit. 

Also because whenever you do stop by to pick him up, Suga - Koushi, as he keeps insisting you call him - makes it his personal mission to strike up a conversation, whether he’s out there supervising the kids or not.

He’s friendly and warm and has a surprising habit of making you laugh at the most unexpected things, and you can’t help but find yourself being reeled in by the silver haired man. It doesn’t hurt that Daisuke thinks he hangs the moon in the sky, but there’s just something about Suga that’s… easy.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t poke or pry. You still have a few friends in Miyagi, but the conversations inevitably end up circling back to what happened and how you’re holding up. You don’t blame them, you know they’re only worried about you, but it’s exhausting. Suga’s a breath of fresh air, and you hadn’t realised how desperate you were for a friend who didn’t know all the grizzly details.

Though being Daisuke’s teacher, he undoubtedly does.

But Suga seems content to pretend, until the day you arrive sniffling, eyes rimmed in red and unable to muster your usual smile.

That’s when the facade breaks, and he takes you back inside the classroom away from all the prying eyes of the other parents and lets you fall apart on his shoulder. You should be mortified, but you suppose that Suga’s probably uniquely equipped at dealing with emotional outbursts, considering he spends his days surrounded by six year olds.

“He was like my big brother,” you whisper after a while, your voice shattered and raw. “I miss him so much.”

He doesn’t say a word but his grip tightens and he hums quietly, and that’s enough.

***

A week after you get settled, you swing by the local police station with two coffees in hand and timidly ask the uniformed officer sitting at the front desk if Daichi’s around. The man looks at you, looks at the two drinks in your hands and grins a little too widely. 

“Good ol’ Daichi, eh?” he winks, “Yeah, he won’t be back for a while. Can I help you with anything, ma’am?”

Your cheeks burn. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise considering he’s a police officer and all, but it does and you feel like an absolute idiot. Of course you should have checked before coming, but even if you’d had the foresight to do that, it wasn’t like you had his number.

Thankfully the other officer takes pity on you after you explain why you’re actually there, promising to let Daichi know you stopped by, diligently taking down your number to pass along as well. 

True to his word, it’s hours later - well into the afternoon - when your phone lights up with a notification. Several, in fact.

Hey Y/N.

It’s Daichi.

Sawamura.

Srgt. Mokoto said you came to see me today?

Is everything okay??

The corner of your lips quirked up, and you get the sense that Mokoto had likely neglected to tell Daichi the real reason you’d dropped in, probably to make him sweat. 

Hey :)

Yeah everything’s fine.

I brought you coffee as a thank you for the other day! Which I maaay have drank myself when you weren’t there…

But let me make it up to you! I can drop by the station if you’re around on wednesday at all?

The reply comes quickly. 

Absolutely. 10:30 work?

You shoot back a quick reply confirming and toss your phone on the couch with a sigh. 

It buzzes again a moment later, but the text message waiting for you isn’t from Daichi.

So a little birdie tells me you’re back in town. 

***

“You know, you really didn’t have to bring me coffee. I meant what I said, it’s part of my job. My boss would have had my ass if I’d just left you stranded there like that.”

You glance over at him with a wry smile. “Yeah? And paying for my new tyre and the towing, is that part of your job too?”

Daichi’s cheeks flush pink and he almost chokes on his sip of coffee. “Ah.”

‘Ah’ indeed. “So considering I doubt you’re going to let me pay you back-”

He lifts a hand to stop you, shaking his head adamantly, “Not a chance. I know the guy who runs the garage, he owes me a favour. It was nothing, really-”

“Then coffee is the least I can do,” you say with an easy shrug. “But I know you’re busy, and I don’t want to keep you too long-”

Daichi’s hand - warm and rough - reaches out to close around your wrist, stopping you before you can stand.

“Stay,” he says, dark eyes glimmering.

***

You’ve forgotten, having spent the last few years living in the heart of Tokyo, just how small a town this really is. 

You’re standing out by the school gates watching Daisuke run around with his friends when Suga decides to broach the subject. 

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Hmm?” You glance up to find him watching you with that same fond if not mildly exasperated expression on his face. It’s not his fault, not really - you’ve just been a little out of it the past few days. 

Thankfully, Suga doesn’t hold it against you, chuckling. “Tomorrow night - are you free?” he repeats.

Your eyes widen a little, cheeks warming. “Um… well I kinda have a… thing earlier, but I should be free by then. Why?”

A silver eyebrow lifts. “A thing?” he prods.

“Just a thing. Why are you being so nosy all of a sudden?”

Suga laughs again, “Well if you’re not still tied up with your thing, I’m having some friends over for drinks for my birthday. You should come.”

Which is how you find yourself standing nervously out the front of Suga’s apartment, a bottle of wine in hand. 

When you knock, however, the person who opens the door is not the one you’re expecting. Tall, broad shouldered and handsome, out of uniform for the first time since you’d met him-

“D-Daichi?”

The brunette stares, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

“I, uh… I’m- is Suga… Is Sugawara here?” you manage to stutter out, fighting the urge to fidget under his gaze.

His brows furrow, an odd look passing over his eyes, and for one awful moment you think you’ve somehow managed to screw up the address. But before you can embarrass yourself further, a familiar head of silver hair appears behind his shoulder, slapping him on the back.

Relief washes over you. “Suga! Happy birthday!” 

Pushing a still somewhat bewildered Daichi out of the way, Suga’s quick to wrap you up in a warm embrace - which takes you by surprise - with a grin. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your eyes flicker back to Daichi for a split second, and Suga’s follow. He’s more observant than most give him credit for, but even the most oblivious would have a hard time not noticing the blank expression on the brunette’s face - or the way he was still staring at you. “You two… know each other?” he asks, ignoring the teasing and impatient shouts coming from inside the apartment.

Finally, Daichi snaps out of his stupor. “Yeah. We met the night she moved back into town.”

“Which is a polite way of saying that my car basically imploded and he saved me from having to hike all the way back to my sister’s,” you correct, and Daichi huffs in amusement, though he doesn’t disagree. “Suga teaches my nephew,” you tell him, answering the unspoken question written across his face. “I didn’t realise the two of you were friends, though!”

The two share a glance over your shoulder.

“Yep.”

“Small world, I guess.”

You laugh, passing Suga the bottle of wine, allowing Daichi to lead you inside with an innocent hand on your lower back.

There’s a decent few people squashed into Suga’s modest apartment, but somehow you manage to find yourself sitting around his coffee table, Daichi’s arm slung over the back of your seat, Suga sitting opposite you both, discussing - of all things - high school sports.

“Volleyball, huh?”

You can kind of see it. They’re both tall and in great shape - you’re pretty damn certain the muscles Daichi sports aren’t just for show - but it’s more than that. You tilt your head, chewing on your bottom lip. “What school did you say you played for?”

“Karasuno,” Suga says.

It takes a moment for it to click - though you blame that on the drink in your hand that Suga’s dutifully kept topped up - Karasuno… the flightless crows. Ah yes. 

A slow smile creeps across your face. 

“I saw you play once.”

Both men’s eyes widen, “You did?” Suga asks.

“Yep. The guy I was dating at the time, he played too.” You almost laugh when you glance up to find Daichi frowning at your side, an unexpected tightness in Suga’s usually easy going smile, “It’s okay,” you reassure them, ignoring the traitorous flutter in your stomach, “you guys won. It damn near broke his poor heart.” Not that he’d ever admitted as much out loud.

There’s a short silence, then-

“What team?” 

You do laugh at that, “Don’t you think you guys are a little past high school rivalries?”

The ex-captain and setter meet each other’s eyes. Neither speak a word, but something utterly indecipherable passes between them, and when Daichi finally breaks it to glance back at you, there’s a sharp grin plastered across his face.

“Nope.”

You shake your head, feeling like you’ve missed something. 

***

Hours later, fresh from a steamy shower, you stumble into bed and grab your phone from the nightstand. Sure enough, two unread messages are waiting for you.

You looked so damned pretty today. 

Are you gonna let me take you out to dinner now or am I gonna have to get on my hands and knees and beg?

You smile into your pillow, quickly typing out a reply.

I don’t know, you used to be pretty good on your knees.

Your phone lights up a moment later, a familiar ringtone playing out.

***

Life gets busy after that. 

Suga mentions that Daisuke is struggling in class, so you decide to join some of the other parents and volunteer as a ‘class helper’ one afternoon a week. Dai beams whenever you show up, and Suga seems eternally grateful for the extra set of hands - even if it’s just for craft time. 

And just when you think you’ve managed to patch one hole, another appears. Miyagi might be a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo, it’s not immune to the low life creeps that used to hang around your old apartment block in the city - you’re mugged walking back from the store, a bag of groceries for dinner in arm. The guy only hits you once, a blow to the cheek that sends you sprawling to the ground, grabs your bag - the one with your phone and wallet - and runs. 

Your sister almost bursts into tears when she sees the cut on your lip, and it’s guilt more than anything else that swells through you when she spends the next twenty minutes berating you for not being careful enough.

You know she doesn’t mean it, you know she’s just scared. The promise falls from your lips before you can stop it, but it’s worth it you think, when her face relaxes and she pulls you into a tight hug.

But when you drop by the station the next morning, Daichi takes one look at you, and you watch in perfect slow motion as that warm smile freezes and falls. You expect the police report he makes you file, though you don’t really hold that much hope that they’re going to get your phone or wallet back, but not the words that come out of his mouth next.

“Self defence classes? Daichi, I...” you exhale with a huff, “don’t you think that’s a little excessive?”

The dark look in Daichi’s eyes as they flicker across your face tells you otherwise. “What if they had a knife, or a gun?” 

You would have just thrown your bag and run, you weren’t stupid - your purse wasn’t worth your life, but Daichi doesn’t want to hear a word of it. 

“What if your wallet wasn’t all he wanted?” he presses, and you stiffen at the implication. Gentle hands reach across the table to grab yours, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against the back of your palm, “Just you and me, two hours a week, that’s all I’m asking.”

… What now?

“You’re going to teach me?”

“You got somebody better in mind, sweetheart?” he asks with a cocked eyebrow and a wry grin.

It makes sense, you suppose - what with him being a police officer and all. 

And between your one on one sessions with him, volunteering at the school with Suga, making sure that Daisuke got to school on time, that the house was cleaned, there was food in the pantry and your sister wasn’t falling apart, you were running on fumes.

Yet when you come home exhausted and aching from Daichi’s place and catch sight of him, casually leaning against your doorway with a bag of takeout and that damned smirk you’d fallen head over heels in love with all those years ago, you can’t help but grin.

“Hey, baby. You hungry?”

Thank goodness for small mercies.

***

They’re more observant than you give them credit for.

Suga notices the way you gingerly stretch to put away the paint supplies one afternoon.

Daichi catches an eyeful of a bruise on your neck as he hovers over you - the makeup you’d used to hide it having rubbed off with the last manoeuvre.

Suga catches you checking your phone more often, smiling softly to yourself.

Where Daichi used to be able to coax you into staying back for a drink, you were quick to finish up and head home, claiming to be tired and hungry. You don’t take him up on his offer for dinner either. 

But the final nail in the coffin came in the form of a drawing.

“Dai, who’s that?” 

Suga’s crouched by his desk, gazing oddly at the picture your nephew had drawn. The task was simple - draw your family. Daisuke had dutifully done just that; him, his mom, you, and-

“Auntie’s new boyfriend.”

Suga’s eyes snap to yours and you curse your heart for skipping a beat. “I didn’t know you were dating anybody.”

***

Daichi’s fingers tap restlessly on the leather of the steering wheel. 

He was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago but when the call came in, he didn’t really have a choice but to answer it. She’d asked specifically for him after all, and even if she hadn’t, the Sergeant would have tossed the case his way regardless.

Mokoto knew how he felt about you.

Spending an hour and a half sitting in your living room while your sister sobbed wasn’t exactly how he’d planned on spending his afternoon, but he supposed it came with the territory. He knows how to do his job properly, though. Listening, asking the right questions, offering sympathy without promising results - it’s nothing he hasn’t had to do before. 

“Please Daichi, she- she’s all we have left, I… I can’t-”

It didn’t mean he wasn’t aching to leave with every second that passed. 

Of course, it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Through her tears, your sister did manage to give up the name of the guy you were fucking. 

A name he certainly recognised from way back in high school. He knows he’s going to enjoy pursuing that particular lead, but as he pulls his car into the driveway and switches the motor off, Daichi shoves the thought aside.

He has other, far more pressing matters to deal with.

His heart thrums like hummingbird’s as he walks up the pathway, nodding politely at his elderly neighbour as he passes. 

The sight that greets him inside his living room makes the wait worthwhile.

You, on your knees, stripped down to your pretty, lace underwear, arms cuffed behind your back and your plush lips wrapped around his best friend’s cock.

With his long fingers carefully carding through your hair, Suga coos at you between breathless moans, praising you for being such a good girl for him with every roll of his hips. You’re shaking, trembling as silvery tears spill down your cheeks and when he drops his wallet, phone and keys on the bench and kicks off his shoes, your wide, pleading eyes turn to greet him.

Daichi’s cock stirs in his pants, a rush of excitement and something much, much darker and more primal flooding his veins. 

Noticing that he no longer has your full attention, Suga’s eyes follow yours. “You’re late,” he says with a lazy smirk.

Loosening his tie, Daichi huffs out a laugh, “And I see you didn’t bother waiting.”

[aliteama]

Hi!! Can I request Aki having a girlfriend that's also a devil hunter? Reader is like an older sister to Power and Denji and reader is sweet and super loving

✧Fic✧

Hayakawa Aki

✧ Warnings: Slight spoilers, mention of blood

✧ “I have a new addition to your unit, I can only hope you get along.”

Folding over the dark tie and smoothening the white button up Aki appeared from behind you with your jacket in hand, slipping it over your shoulders before pressing a tender kiss to your check and tucking away loose strands of hair. Brushing his bangs to the side you smiled up at him, eyes wide and hopeful to ease his jumbled nerves. With Makimas sudden announcement of a new troublemaker to look over Aki had stayed up all night pacing around your shared apartment and methodically cleaning to distract himself from the dreaded moment.

Standing tall by his side you smiled over at the hunched boy examining your boyfriend, his shirt was messy and hair dirty yet he seemed to feel comfortable even with all the tension in the air. His tired eyes searched Akis face before they slid over to you, his bottom lip getting caught between his teeth before sending you a shy wave. During introductions he seemed to be drowning out the noise, only perking up when he found out he wouldn’t be working with Makima and causing a fuss to show his discontent.

“Hey Sir. Does Makima have a boyfriend?” shuffling through bustling streets Denji trudged behind you, his hand unconsciously grabbing at your jacket as to not get lost in the crowd “Hey, tell me” tugging on you he rolled his eyes at Akis silence before picking up his pace.

“C’mere.”

“Hey!”

Following the two into a dark alley you sighed deeply and pressed a cold hand to your cheek the moment Akis fist met Denjis face, blood spewing out his mouth and trickling onto the pavement. Pulling the boy into a headlock Aki tossed him onto the ground as if he were trash before pulling a cigarette out of a freshly bought packet, “You should quit. If you show up tomorrow I’ll give you another thrashing.” taking a drag he tossed it onto Denjis chest before puckering his lips and letting a glob of spit fall onto him to burn out the cigar.

“Ok Aki you let your steam out now apologize.” Reaching a hand out to help pull Denji to his feet he rushed over to his senior before kneeing him in the crotch, a symphony of coughs leaving Akis lips while laughter left yours.

Jumping back to his feet Aki tried to knock him down once more before Denji extended his leg and sent another hit to his crotch, after roughhousing in that alley for what felt like hours you had finally pulled the battered boys away from each other and threw Aki over your shoulder to escort them back to the offices. 

“A testicle devil attacked his balls.”

“That’s a lie... he made that up..”

“So what do you think y/n? Can you all get along?”

Ignoring the protesting groans, you smiled at Makimas pleased expression, “Most definitely!” 

After a little explanation about Denjis special case the three of you had finally settled back into your apartment, you and Aki eager to change out of the stuffy suits while the excitable boy rummaged around the kitchen and made himself at home while also making a mess of the once clean apartment. Over the next few days it seemed Akis agitation towards Denji only grew, starting with the long baths, falling asleep on the toilet, messy eating, and the mental list went on and on. The built up frustration had finally released when Denji refused to use his devil power on an unsuspecting fiend who had caused the east nerima residence to go on lockdown.

“When I use my devil powers... it looks super painful. Like uuhhh I could’ve ended up a fiend! So I guess... I wanted to give the poor guy a painless death..?”

“Listen up. Fiends are bona fide devils too. A devil hunter shouldn’t sympathize with devils. My entire family was killed by a devil right before my eyes.” Shoving a shaky palm into his face Aki lectured the shocked boy who looked to you for help, his hands placid by his side and eyes gloomy.

“I think it’s nice you’d be friends with fiends Denji”

“Nice..?”

“Yea! But I’m sure you had a different motive”

“Well the truth is, I just didn’t wanna get blood on these dirty magazines”

Flipping through the pile he shuddered under your gaze, gears in his mind turning to pick at the correct words to say, “Your pretty interesting Denji”

“Melons! I know what I want now!”

Laughing at his statement you bent down to help collect the magazines he was gathering, “You want melons?” bringing a hand to his head and ruffling dirty blonde hair he melted into your touch with a dopey grin on his face “I think we’ll be good friends Denji”

“Friends?”

“Hey! Pay attention you idiot!”

With a heavy head he gripped onto your jacket again much to Akis dismay, eyes ghosting over Makimas figure before standing at attention, “I'm pairing you up with a buddy starting today but be careful she's a fiend”

“Hey Hey Hey! Grovel human, names Power!” with a half tucked in shirt and rolled up the loud girl made her way over to you with sharp teeth bared, “Hello Power, did you miss me?”

Shaking her head and bumping dull horns into your cheek she denied your accusation, “Never!” contradicting herself by wrapping around your waist Power brought your hand to her head with gleaming eyes, “Pet me!”

“Stop touching that dirty fiend!” 

“Your just jealous because she's so cute Aki” 

“Jealous? Yea right.”

Straightening out Powers jacket you pushed her hair out of the collar and rolled up the sleeves, “I need you to be good and go on a mission with Denji ok? Then you can come stay with me and Aki!”

“I never agreed to that! We already have one problem at the apartment, we don’t need another one!”

Eating his words sure enough Aki was the one to open the apartment door and prepare dinner for everyone, his eyebrows furrowed while he watched you braid Powers hair at table while Denji buried his face into your side. 

“Do you need help cooking Aki?” rising from your spot you made your way into the kitchen to pick through ingredients, “Power doesn't like vegetables”

Picking up the plates and placing them in front of the waiting teens Aki stepped back behind the counter to serve you, “I don’t care what she likes and doesn’t like.”

“I HATE Vegetables! Begone!”

“I told you dear”

“Don’t throw vegetables!”

Reaching over to swipe at Akis plate he sighed, “It’s like having snotty kids running around” laughing at his statement you shoved a carrot into your mouth before collecting the dishes “I think it’ll be fun with them around!”

“I’m the type who seldom bathes and flushes!”

Rolling over in bed Aki tugged at his hair, it all felt like some terrible nightmare he couldn’t wait to wake up from. The constant screaming and clinging to you agitated him to no end especially that devil Denji who ate up all your attention.

“You're too nice to them, you know.”

“Their not that bad, just a little loud and over excited” 

Pulling you further under the blankets he sighed deeply, fingers searching to find yours before interlacing and bringing your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles, “Your still too nice”

[aethersea]

May I request 41 - First Kiss and 94 - Hair Brushing/Braiding for the Leverage OT3, please? (Also extra bonus points if you give Eliot beads in his hair like in The Ice Man Job, because we didn't get NEARLY enough of that in the show) Thank you!

I cannot believe I wrote this whole thing out and then never published it. I’m so sorry, it’s been at least twenty-four years since you sent in this ask, please accept my humble apologies and also this ficlet.

However, this prompt is just pure fluff, and I hate to tell you this but I am not a fluff writer. I just can’t pull off that unadulterated sweetness. I am in this fandom for the shenanigans, first, last and foremost! So this fic is now a 5+1 of Eliot and Parker trying to seduce Hardison.

1. Parker thinks they need to give him gifts, so she goes through her stash and picks out the largest, fanciest jewel she’s ever stolen. Then she realizes: Hardison likes stories. He spends hours giving their aliases histories and pets and allergies and favorite foods, he can get a whole sordid history of jealousy and betrayal from a single corporate email chain, and Parker knows for a cold fact that he writes little stories with his online friends about being wizards together.

She goes through her stash again and picks out the most cursed thing she’s ever stolen.

It’s a jeweled statuette, almost as tall as her forearm, made of gold and studded with precious and semi-precious stones. Mysterious deaths have befallen five separate owners of this thing. Its base is dented from the time it was used to bludgeon Owner Number Three to death. The tiny rubies it has for eyes follow you across the room.

Parker puts a bow on it and leaves it in Hardison’s room while he’s sleeping. He wakes up to this horrible little statue watching him from his bedside table.

He texts the group chat, Hey did anyone put an evil little gold guy in my bedroom last night? But Parker chickens out and says nothing (drunkenly betting Eliot that she can seduce Hardison is one thing, but admitting that she likes him is something else altogether). Everyone else texts back variations on “nope.” (Except Sophie, who just sends back a string of heart eyes emojis and a wikipedia link. She loves cursed artifacts.) So Hardison puts the statue away in a closet somewhere and figures he’ll deal with it later.

Parker is mildly offended that he put her gift in a closet. She goes into his room the next night and puts it back on the bedside table, where it clearly belongs.

This goes on for a week. Hardison puts the statue in a desk drawer, then in one of the cabinets in the office downstairs, then in the dumpster down the street. Every day he wakes up to those glittering red eyes watching him sleep. He’s asked his internet buddies if anyone knows a good exorcist. Hardison doesn’t really believe in curses, but also? What the fuck. What the fuck.

~

2. Eliot assumes the drunken bet will be forgotten by morning. What kind of world would it be if people always followed through on promises they made while they could barely stay vertical? So he spends the morning nursing his hangover and cleaning his knives. Cleaning guns is no good while hungover—all the snaps and clicks of popping things in and out of place sound like actual gunfire when you’re hungover, it’s a nightmare—but knives are quiet and have no moving parts. Buffing and polishing them is soothingly repetitive work, and every once in a while he can throw one at one of the dartboards on the walls and reassure himself that his reflexes are still sound even after that much tequila.

It’s only when he gets Hardison’s text about the golden statuette that magically appeared in his room overnight that Eliot realizes Parker’s actually going for it. After some internal debate about whether he’s going to stoop to this or not, Eliot decides what the hell and starts making plans.

Eliot agrees that gifts are the way to go, but not stolen gifts. Not things. Anyone can give a thing. Proper wooing is about giving experiences.

Eliot plans for three days. On the fourth day, he and Hardison have their irregularly scheduled monthly coffee date, and Eliot texts him beforehand to say he wants to do it at the brewpub this time. Hardison arrives to find a deceptively simple meal: basic country fare perfected through years of experimentation, made with the best ingredients Eliot can get his hands on. And Eliot, after all, is still a retrieval specialist. There’s very little in the world he can’t get his hands on.

And yet the night ends and somehow he has not gotten his hands on Hardison.

This is just not right. Eliot knows how to deploy a smolder, okay, Tangled reference aside he is damn good at flirting and he knows the looks he’s giving Hardison are clear as day. It’d be one thing if Hardison had turned him down, or if he’d been uneasily unwilling, or even if his eyes had widened slightly in suppressed panic and he’d abruptly found a reason to leave. Eliot can take rejection, bet or no, and he’d have bowed out graciously without a fuss. But this was much, much worse.

Hardison didn’t even notice he was flirting.

He’s going to have to up his game.

~

3. “How do you seduce people?” Parker asks bluntly, turning up at Sophie’s door just past midnight.

Sophie, despite the hour, is utterly delighted by the question.

This goes as well as you would expect.

~

4. Eliot’s taken a lot of dates to sports games. Hardison may prefer sparkly elves with purple lightning magic to a decent MMA fight, but baseball is the American pastime. Eliot gets them perfect seats, hot dogs from the best vendor in the stadium, even chilled beer that he smuggles in without letting it get warm. It’s going to be a perfect game.

And it is. At first. Hardison, it turns out, has a lot of opinions about baseball. What he does not have is an understanding of the rules. They’re not even into the second inning by the time Eliot finally snaps and starts arguing with him about it.

They make it all the way to the fifth inning before Eliot realizes that Hardison’s basing his complaints off the rules of a game from a Star Wars novel.

They’re at the bottom of the eighth before Eliot will speak to him again.

~

5. Eliot and Parker are drunk again. This is not intentional. They didn’t even mean to come to this bar, but the smoothie place with the fried oreos that Eliot had brought Parker here to try was playing such incredibly bad music that they’d ordered the oreos to go and fled. The bar was just the coziest looking place on the block, and of course they’d ordered drinks to avoid being rude––Eliot had entertained himself for a few minutes scouring the menu for something that would pair well with fried oreos and popcorn chicken.

And now they’re drunk. The conversation has, perhaps inevitably, turned to the ongoing bet.

“I tried everything!” Parker wails. “I laughed at every joke, I touched my hair constantly, I got him talking about things he likes.” She thunks her forehead on the bar. “All that happened is now I know the complete history of orcs in western literature.”

“Hardison wouldn’t know flirting if it pinched him on the ass,” Eliot grumbles.

Parker slaps his arm. “No pinching Hardison!”

“I’m not going to—I don’t pinch people!”

Parker’s ignoring him. Eliot pouts and takes another sip of his drink. He’s not entirely sure what this one is––it’s blue and kind of fizzy, that’s all he can say for sure. Parker took over the drinks menu several glasses ago, and she’s been picking them based on what has the most fun name to say. Eliot’s pretty sure the alcohol content’s been doubling with each order.

“Eliot,” Parker slurs, “we need to work together.”

“What?”

Parker lifts her head from the bar and frowns at him, the way she does when she’s figured out the obvious solution and is just waiting for everyone else to get on the same page. It’s adorable. It’s always adorable, but right now her eyes are wide and slightly unfocused from the alcohol and she’s listing sideways a little, almost as if she’s unbalanced, and it is the most adorable thing Eliot has ever seen. Parker’s never unbalanced, but some part of Eliot’s fuzzy brain thinks she’s about to fall on top of him and cannot wait to catch her.

“You can’t seduce Hardison,” Parker points out. Eliot is drunk enough to get offended by this, but too drunk to get out a complaint before she continues, “I can’t seduce Hardison. But if we work together, the two of us can definitely seduce Hardison. Together.”

Eliot stares at her. Then he takes another sip of his fizzy blue drink. Later, when questioned, he will blame his next words on that drink.

“Worth a shot.”

They take Hardison to a movie. They research for three weeks beforehand. They find the best movie theater in town, with the nicest seats, the biggest screens, and concession snacks that Hardison likes, and they buy tickets for the midnight premiere of the superhero movie that Hardison hasn’t shut up about for the past month. Parker even hacks into the theater’s computers in a last-minute fit of nerves and cross-references the credit cards with drivers’ licenses to make sure the people sitting in front of them won’t be too tall.

Parker witnesses a kidnapping in the parking lot while the boys are getting popcorn. They don’t even stay long enough to catch the commercials.

~

+ 1. “Hey Eliot,” Hardison says during movie night, a little over a week later. “Remember the Ice Man Job?”

Eliot groans. “I try not to.”

Hardison throws a piece of popcorn at his face. “Shut up. Remember how you did your hair for that one? With the little—those little beads on, like, a braid?”

Eliot shoots Hardison a suspicious glance. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Teach me how to do that.”

Eliot shoots Hardison another, more deliberate look, this one pointedly directed at Hardison’s complete lack of braidable locks.

Hardison rolls his eyes as if that’s a silly detail to get hung up on and leans forward to dig around in one of the boxes he has under his coffee table. He emerges with a ziplock bag of plastic beads in no time flat and hands it triumphantly to Eliot. Then he yanks a few cushions out from behind Parker, who’s sitting on his other side, and puts them on the floor in front of him. “Sit here?” he asks Parker, patting the cushion pile.

Parker takes a moment to consider being offended at having her cushions stolen, but curiosity gets the better of her and she just plops down between Hardison’s legs, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she goes, and waits.

Hardison lifts her hair with sudden gentleness, drawing it over her shoulders and letting it fall down her back in a golden wave. His fingers brush against her neck. Parker shivers. Eliot is distantly aware that he’s gone perfectly still, focused with a hunter’s intensity on Hardison’s dark, graceful fingers carding through Parker’s hair.

Hardison leans back, hands on his knees, and Eliot breathes again. “Well?” Hardison looks over at Eliot, a tiny smirk of challenge on his lips. “Show me how it’s done.”

Eliot is suddenly, brutally aware of how close they are. Hardison’s couch is obscenely comfortable, which is half the reason movie nights are at Hardison’s in the first place, but it is not large. Their thighs are touching. Hardison leans away, to give Eliot access to Parker’s hair, and he’s still so close that Eliot would barely have to reach out a hand to—

Eliot ruthlessly shoves that thought down into the dark where it belongs. He dealt with this, he dealt with this years ago, and accepting Parker’s stupid bet doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the way Hardison and Parker look at each other. It just means he doesn’t mind losing for a good cause.

So he keeps his tone steady and his fingers brisk as he shows Hardison how to braid the clunky plastic beads into Parker’s hair, and if he flushes with heat when their hands brush each other, well, nobody has to know. He’s been trained to withstand eight different schools of torture. It won’t show on his face. His voice never once falters.

Parker has had no such training. Her lips have parted, and her breathing is shallow. She’s staring glassy-eyed at the TV. Hardison can’t see her face, sitting behind her, but Eliot watches her carefully, worried that they need to call this off. Parker’s not used to intimacy, to closeness that means something, and for all the three of them have spent half their movie nights literally on top of each other, this is something else. This has weight.

Eliot puts a hand on her shoulder, pressing down just enough that Parker startles and cants a glance over at him. Eliot raises his eyebrows in question, and Parker glares back: don’t you fucking dare. Eliot backs off. Hardison, frowning in concentration as he threads a wisp of Parker’s hair through a green bead, graciously pretends he didn’t see the exchange.

Hardison gets the hang of the beading fairly quickly, and Eliot shows him a few different techniques. He’s almost managed to convince himself that nothing is actually happening when Hardison says, conversationally, “You two are really bad at this.”

Eliot glowers his confusion. “At movie night? You started this, if you wanted to actually watch Alien then you shouldn’t have—”

Hardison’s smile is soft, but Eliot decides for his own safety to focus on the laughter at its edge. “No, at this.” And then he slides his hand onto Parker’s neck, caresses her cheek, and isn’t the slightest bit surprised when she gasps.

Parker whips around, and there’s hurt on her face but it dies in the glow of Hardison’s gentle, unteasing smile. Hardison pulls her up with the lightest of touches, and she goes, eyes fixed on his like salvation.

They kiss sweet and slow, and Eliot’s heart twists in his chest and he can’t breathe. He needs to leave now before he shatters in half, but if he moves then they will look at him, and he would rather never breathe again than meet their eyes right now.

Hardison breaks off the kiss, gazing at Parker with something just this side of wonder, and then he does look at Eliot. Eliot flinches. He opens his mouth to…say something, make some joke or hasty excuse and scramble out the door, but Hardison raises a hand to Eliot’s face, slides his long fingers to cup Eliot’s neck, and pulls him forward, as gently as he did Parker.

It’s a chaste kiss, no more than a soft press of lips, because Eliot is too stunned to respond and Hardison doesn’t push. It lasts a long time. A whole era of change happens in the span of that kiss, as everything Eliot thought he knew tears out of place and then settles, gingerly, into a new understanding.

Hardison pulls away, his hand still warm on the back of Eliot’s neck. His smile is pure sunshine. Eliot finds himself smiling back, helpless.

Hardison’s grin turns smug. “And that,” he says, looking between Eliot and Parker, “is how you do it. Y’all are disasters, honestly, I can’t believe two master criminals working together couldn’t manage a single real date—”

Eliot heaves a deep sigh and drags Hardison into a headlock, pinning his arms when he flails. Parker surges to her knees and starts tickling him mercilessly.

They don’t finish the movie.

[summonerscenarios]

Can I ask for a scenario where MC finds and takes care of a stray cat and brings it around with him causing some of the other feline transients(tezcatlipoca, macan, nomad, and sitri) to become jealous because the cat is possessive of MC and is getting attention. On another note thank you for creating this blog, it really is nice for you to continue doing something like this for others to enjoy and i hope you are enjoying it as well. (P.S, agyo probably glares at the cat from behind the couch)

I WAS SO WORRIED THAT I’D LOST THIS BECAUSE I SWEAR I ALMOST COULDN’T FIND IT BUT HERE IT IS!!! Thank you so much for liking my blog I’m having so much fun with it!! And I hope other people are having as much with it as well~! 

-----------

Tezcatlipoca

Honestly, you’re starting to get pretty fed up with how many times Tez tries breaking into your dorm through the window when you’ve got a perfectly good door to use (especially because you gave him a key, dammit). It’s something about ‘stealth’ or ‘a surprise attack’ but it’s seriously starting to grate on your nerves; so when you decide to bring the stray who you’ve been feeding and taking care of for the past few months home with you, you decide that the jaguar can find out about the new arrival the next time he tries to make an ‘impromptu visit’ in the middle of the night.

And sure enough that’s exactly how he gets to meet your cat. Usually the loud declaration he makes as he bursts through your (thankfully open) window is what wakes you up from your slumber, but this time it’s the sound of your cat hissing up a storm as it leaps from your bed to confront the ‘intruder’ while he’s half-way through the window. It’s enough of a surprise to Tez that the therian slides right off of the frame and hits the floor loud enough that you feel bad for the person living on the first floor. However, he’s quick to recover, and by the time you’re out of bed you’re standing between the two trying to get Tez to at least lower his voice before he wakes the neighbors as he glares over your shoulder at the protective feline, the latter of which purrs and rubs against your legs vying for your attention.

That should have been your first sign that things were going to be tense between the two, but you didn’t actually think that Tezcatlipoca would get jealous of your new kitty just because it was a tiny bit attached to you. Little do you know from that point forward what ensues is a full out war between the therian and your cat. Perhaps its due to the fact you’re so doting, or just because you feed it and give it a place to sleep, but your cat is ridiculously attached to you, but Tezcatlipoca isn’t about to let a possessive stray take up the space at his brother’s side that Tez had waiting so long to reclaim - if it’s a battle for you that this little kit wants, then he is more than prepared to show it who your true favorite is. Tez gets increasingly more petty in his attempts to lure your attention away from the cat, and considering that he’s pretty adept with tactics you’d imagine this would be fairly easy but it isn’t.

Tez tries to get a moment alone with you by closing the door behind him before the cat can enter, and not two minutes later it’s pawing at the door and meowing so loud that you hurry over to the door to let it in and warn Tez to check next time. He also attempts to pawn the cat off onto his subordinates for a few hours under the guise of a play-date and to get the cat used to company; and yet that plan backfires spectacularly when you start getting pictures of its ‘playdate’. Group photos of the Luchadores all fawning over your cat and giving it treats alongside videos of them jumping around and letting it leap between them as they perform - it’s clear that the feline has successfully won them over just as it had with you, and you’re soon distracted cooing over the messages much to the therian’s growing frustration.

The lightbulb finally goes off when you catch Tez glaring at the cat when he thinks you’re not looking like he’s trying to convey the words he can’t say to the little feline due to your presence. You’re laying with your back on the floor as the kitty drapes across your chest, hands running through its fur and rubbing its ears as you coo and shower the cat in affection and praises. Your cat is absolutely loving the affection, purring hard enough that it’s practically rumbling as it stretches out and pads at your face with its paws; Tez on the other hand is staring the cat down like it’s going to claw your face off and he’s just waiting for the moment to jump in and intervene. When you tilt your head back to look at him you catch his expression before he notices you’ve spotted him; you ask him what’s got him so miffed, but in the split second it takes for him to look in the opposite direction and insist nothing’s amiss you look between him, the cat, then him, then the cat again.

Then it clicks.

“Tez, you’re not...jealous are you?”

His reaction is just too good - the lack of verbal response makes you lift the cat off of you so that you can safely roll over and look directly at him, taking in the lowered ears and ruffled feathers as he looks away from you. Assuming that he’s just feeling left out with the attention you shuffle over to where he’s sitting and apologize for not giving him some time too in a cooing hum that’s pretty similar to the tone you use when you’re coddling the cat. He goes to complain, but the moment you lean over to start scritching a spot right behind his ears he chokes on the words, expression tensing for the brief moment it takes him to realize what you’re doing to him. 

Tezcatlipoca grumbles about underhanded tactics and how he won’t fall for them so easily even as he tilts his head up with a noise akin to a deep purr when you move your free hand to scratch just under his chin. At the forefront of your affection Tez almost has to laugh in triumph - of course you may lavish the little fluffy kit you’ve taken in with affection and praise, but you’ll always end up pouring your attention back onto him when it really counts. You’re pretty sure you catch his tail flickering languidly out of the corner of your eye as you pet him, but you don’t bring it up when it brushes up against your legs as you shuffle around to get a better angle to fuss him with. If the cat doesn’t try to make too much of a fuss and he keeps receiving your undivided attention like this, then Tez supposes that he can allow this kind of arrangement…

That is until the moment is interrupted when your cat promptly shoves itself between the two of you and turns it’s back to Tez so that you have to pull your hands away to look down at it. And just like that it’s back to square one, with Tez glaring daggers as the feline has the audacity to use his leg as height leverage to nuzzle its way into your arms, effectively regaining your attention as you turn back to fussing the cat - completely oblivious to the pointed stare-down the pair share when you’re not looking.

Macan

Taking in a stray for the first time you’d worried a lot about it wandering off or losing interest if it went outside, and the stories you had heard only heightened the worries you had about owning a cat. Turns out you didn’t have to worry at all, as the feline sticks to your side everywhere you go, even following you to school and sneaking its way into your classes even when you were sure you closed your dorm door - it was a running gag that where you went your new fluffy buddy was sure to follow, and it significantly eased your concerns as you gained a little more confident about taking it out with you. It even came with you when you went out to see friends, dropping by on the Berserker’s guild to catch up with your allies with your fuzzy companion in tow. Granted, it did in fact wander off from time to time, but rarely ever out of your direct line of sight. However, this time when you pull yourself away from a conversation with Andvari about merch revenue to check on your cat who’d been perched on the counter, only to find it missing from its spot and not in direct sight, you begin to panic. The main floor is thankfully empty of most of the visitors, with most people in the arena watching one of the fights and leaving the space mostly clear, but you still end up running circles around the room looking for the cat in question. Eventually, a familiar mewl catches your attention, followed by a sharp hiss and a growl that you recognize and you slide around the corner the moment you hear it.

Then you spot your cat, latched onto the Macan’s snout with both bearing their teeth and you nearly scream as you bolt over to pry the two felines away from each other. It takes a while to separate your cat and Macan, and you’re honestly flabbergasted that your kitty had such a wild reaction when up until this point you’d never had any of these problems before. Macan at least doesn’t seem entirely fussed about the sudden outburst - if anything he seems a bit entertained that your cat had the guts enough to try anything - but you still make a point to make sure his nose is okay, checking for any lasting claw marks as you apologize over and over.

From that point forward, it doesn’t take a genius to piece together that Macan and your kitty don’t entirely get along...well, that’s not exactly true. In the times where you’re doing your own thing and not focusing on the two of them, you notice that your cat has little qualms with sidling up to the bulky tiger therian and lounging all over him, and Macan doesn’t even shrug it off or push it away whenever the furball trots up to him looking for attention. It’s bizarre seeking the two of them actually getting along with each other, though you do have to laugh at how easily Macan’s able to pull your cat away when it starts getting too playful with his tail - it almost makes you wish you had a camera so that you could save these snippets. 

However, those moments only last about as long as it takes for either of them to notice that you’re paying attention; then your cat’s racing me over to your side kicking up a fuss until you relent and give the feline some well deserved pets. You honestly don’t know who’s more attached to you - as when your cat comes to curl up on your lap, meowing and pawing for your attention, chances are Macan’s right there alongside it, leaning up against your back and resting his head atop yours nosing in on whatever you’re doing. It’s cute, but frustrating when this happens right as you’re in the middle of doing something important - and yet you don’t have the heart to get either of the cats to budge.  (not that either of them actually would - you’ve now got two stubborn felines to deal with in your life, hope you’re ready.)

Nomad

Taking in a stray wasn’t your initial plan, but you definitely don’t regret it. You always came across the same cat on your way to and from school, and while you’d only stop for the occasional fuss and to give it some treats if you carried some with you, it didn’t take long before it started travelling with you as you made the walk. And then one day you got back to your home and the cat just...stuck around - and needless to say you just didn’t have the heart at that point to not take the cat in; how could you not? The fluffy feline needed a place to stay, and you were more than happy to have a new roommate in the form of the tiny cat. It takes a lot of trial and error to ease your new pet into its new life, taking your time to get it used to being around some of your friends so that it feels more comfortable coming over - and honestly, things go a lot better than you expected. Your cat warms up to just about everyone you’ve introduced easily, going in for pets or at least giving them a curious sniff before deciding whether it likes them or not; seeing how well it gets along with everybody you’ve introduced so far, you thought it was high time to introduce it to your favorite tiger detective - after all, you’re sure they’d get along just fine, right?

Your way of ‘introducing’ Nomad to your new kitty isn’t so much an introduction as it is you quite literally plopping the cat right into his lap the moment he sits down, looking up at him with an excitable smile and kneeling down beside him as you present the small cat to the exceptionally bigger cat. Your cat and him share a look, and you just about melt watching it purr and nuzzle up against Nomad’s jacket like you’ve seen it do with some of your other friends before - it looks like it’s taken a shine to him, which is honestly incredibly relieving after the initial worry that this introduction wasn't going to go as well as you’d hoped. What makes you even happier is that Nomad doesn’t seem to mind the cat either, leaning a hand down to give the kitty headpats as it preens and purrs under the action.

But then you turn away for a moment to check something on your phone, being pulled away by a message, and in that split second that you shift around to check your cat does a complete 180, just about hitting him square in the chest as it whips around and hops off of his lap to trot over to your side, meowing all the way until you turn around and focus your attention back onto him. What seals the deal is the warning noise that your cat makes as it turns back to face him, slinking into your lap with a pointedly sharp stare before it turns its attention back to you.

It’s not exactly jealousy, per se, because Nomad’s been around the block long enough to not get hung up over you doting over your cat and giving it a lot of your attention - though at the same time he gets pretty embarrassed realizing that what he does get hung up on is the fact that most of your attention is pulled away from him when you are together. When he realizes that’s what’s got him upset, the therian wants to just about kick himself for sounding like a damn kid about it, and he’s not about to go around admitting it out loud, so you’re gonna have to figure that out on your own.

What’s more, Nomad’s fully prepared to just cut his losses and accept that him and the cat just aren’t gonna get along, and he would if it wasn’t for the fact that this same cat was so damn affectionate when you weren’t around. Without fail, whenever you go out to run errands and he’s stuck with the cat it’ll come plodding up to him and flop down into his lap demanding pets and attention. And he falls for it every single time. You can practically see the frustration rolling off of him when you return, and the cat just about claws his head off trying to get to you as soon as possible, leaving Nomad nursing more than a few nicks thanks to the sheer protectiveness the little fluffball possesses when it comes to you.

Sitri

When you’d first brought the stray you’d adopted home it was a learning experience for you. Figuring out what toys to get and what kind of food and bedding to go and buy were just some of the things you needed to get and asap, and you’d been so focused on making sure the little guy was settling in okay and comfy that by the time everything was sorted out you’d pretty much neglected to let everybody know that you were a cat parent now. Once things have calmed down however, you’re eager to show off the fluffy feline to just about everyone and everyone, and who better to show that Sitri? You were planning to meet up with him after school anyways, and you figured if the kitty was going to warm up to anyone, he’d be a pretty good start, right? 

Though perhaps you should have actually let him know that the cat was home when he’d stopped by your dorm room to see if you were ready to go, as while you’re mid-way through tossing a jacket on and grabbing your bag you hear a yelp and Sitri nearly barrels into your back. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but as you spin around you spot your cat dart across the room, and you have to catch the little fluff ball mid-pounce as it aims directly for the poor therian’s tail. Turns out, while you’d been getting ready, the cat had spotted Sitri at the door and had slipped past your feet to investigate the newcomer, only to latch onto Sitri’s tail the moment the flickering had peaked the feline’s interest. A slew of apologies wasn’t how you’d intended to introduce Sitri to your cat, but you really can’t stay mad at the kitty for long when it sticks you with the wide eyes and cuddles into your arms mid-apology, gently butting your jaw with its head.

You just about melt at the action, especially because this is still in the early stages of your cat settling into your home, and the apology quickly filters off into you cooing over the feline as you hold it up for Sitri to see. For a split second Sitri swears that the cat’s glaring at him as it wriggles free and drops back down to your side to curl around your legs, but surely he’s just imagining it, right? Wrong. That cat spends just about every second that he’s there curled protectively right beside you, sticking Sitri with a stare and swatted paw if his shoulder so much as touches yours. It even kicks up a fuss and follows the pair of you out of the door, which ends up with you asking if you can bring it along, which of course he’s not going to say no to. This quickly becomes a regular occurrence, where almost every time the two of you get to hang out your cat comes with you, and it must know it’s damn cute because every time it tags along you and just about everyone else comes over to pet it and give the cat attention.

Sitri absolutely refuses to admit that he’s even a tiny bit jealous of your cat - getting jealous over a cat is super dumb, and Sitri’s not the kind of cool cat who gets hung up watching you fuss and fawn over the cat every single time you’re together...okay, maybe he’s a tiny bit jealous, but it’s not like he’s going to tell you that he is. Instead, he stews with the thoughts for a while, and just kind of puts up with the presence of the cat in favor of hanging out with you, and he’s sure the cat knows because boy does it push the limits of what it can get away with. There was even one instance where Sitri had made the mistake of having his wings out around your cat, and the little ball of fluff just about ripped a few feathers free the moment it caught sight of those bright orange wings. That at least got your attention focused back on him as you’d worried over his wings and checked that he was okay, but Sitri really doesn’t wanna go through something like that just to keep your attention - he’s pretty sure he’d end up losing all of his feathers if he did that.

With that being said this is Sitri, and you’ve known him long enough that you can tell when something’s starting to bug him, and clearly something has been bothering him for a while. You don’t make the connection for a little while, after all while he does get a bit frustrated watching your cat nuzzle into your hands and curl up on your lap, so you’re blissfully unaware. However, after a while you start to realize just how little attention you pay to Sitri when you guys are together, having your attention pulled away by the cat, and you start to think that maybe he’s feeling miffed that you’ve been leaving him out as a result. You can’t say for sure though until you decide to bring the topic up with him, curious to figure out what’s got him so ruffled.

Once you put two and two together he gets notably embarrassed, and you don’t even have to voice your thoughts aloud before Sitri blurts out that he’s 'not jealous!’ automatically jumping in to deny it before you’ve said a word. Seconds later he realizes what he just said and his hands fly to his mouth as though hoping to stuff the words back in but it’s too late. Your jaw drops, but just as quickly you spin around and exclaim “You’re jealous!?”, watching as he flushes. Sitri tries to deny it again, but it’s significantly less convincing when even the tips of his ears are starting to turn pink; soon enough the moment dissolves into you repeating that he’s jealous, sounding more and more amused each time he tries to argue that he swears he’s not. After a while of this though you make sure to assure him that you’re not making fun of him, ruffling his hair as you assure him that as much as you coddle and fuss the fluffy feline you’ll always have time for him - after all you’d be a fool not to remind your friend he’s the number one cool cat, right~? At your words he goes from flustered to groaning at the cheesy remark, but you can tell he’s feeling a bit better about the whole thing, if not still a bit embarrassed over being seen through so easily.

[lucas-koh]

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XII

Parts 1-11 linked in bio!

Somewhat canon compliant.

Rating: M, mentions of medical misdemeanour, implied sex, language

Song: Do I Wanna Know (Live At The BBC) - Hozier

Word Count: 3367

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Twelve: An Inconvenient Truth

So. Denial hadn’t been working. At this point Suki had to admit to herself her crush on Bryce. She had no clue what to do. She should end it, right? It wouldn’t be fair on him. He hadn’t signed up for this and they’d made it pretty clear they didn’t want this to happen.

Suki hadn’t had feelings for anyone in such a long time that it had never seemed possible to her. She’d never dreamed she’d end up feeling some type of way for Bryce Lahela. The moment she felt that déjà vu she should’ve run for the hills. Maybe in hindsight the whole thing was a mistake, but it was too late now.

She was laying there in his bed, on his chest, wearing his pyjamas. She definitely wasn’t doing herself any favours right at that moment.

She wanted to stay there forever, enveloped in his smell and his warm skin and the light breeze of his breaths on her forehead; the soft cotton of his pyjamas, the dizzying sensation of his arm on her waist.

But god, Bryce really hadn’t bargained for this. She had to get out of there before she drove herself crazy or overstayed her welcome. Or worse, drove him away. Because although it might not have been what was best for her after the revelation, all Suki wanted was to keep Bryce in her life.

“Thank you so much. Again. But I oughta get out of your hair.” She started to lift herself off him, dreaming up reluctance as his arm fell away from her.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. You said you had today off too, right? You must be feeling pretty rough,” he chuckled.

“Thank you for offering but really. I should go home.” Should more than you know. Should for my own sanity. Should because it’s the right thing to do when it was me who fucked up.

Bryce left her to it as she changed out of his pyjamas – slowly, she was hungover as hell – and back into the clothes that were strewn across Bryce’s kitchen.

“I’ll wash your underwear for you,” he offered, as they had been caught in the crossfire of her vomit. She could tell it was a serious offer despite the smug smirk painted on his face.

Stop it! Stop it stop it stop it! “No, you won’t. I have a washing machine at home.”

She collected them from him in a plastic bag, how embarrassing.

Imagine making such a state of yourself? I’m twenty-fucking-eight years old and I drank too much because I was afraid to admit I might have some stupid schoolgirl crush on my fuck buddy? Have you ever seen anything more tragic? And now he’s fucking handing me my sick-soaked underwear in a plastic fucking bag. Like a fucking child. A child who threw up at school and had to go home early and get picked up by their mom. And now I can’t stop fucking cursing myself for putting myself in this position. If there was ever any moment at all that he maybe saw me as more than a fuck, that moment was lost now.

So Suki left, her head spinning and not just because of an asshole of a hangover.

Maybe it was just a temporary baseless infatuation. Maybe Suki shouldn’t have been jumping to such drastic measures…

So that - Suki’s denial and clinging on to the hope that she could find a way to continue this – was how Suki and Bryce ended up continuing to sleep together throughout the month of February. But the longer it went on, the more sure Suki was that this addicting feeling when she thought of him was sticking around. And it wasn’t fair on him.

She kept thinking about it, considering her options, making the excuse that she didn’t want to jump into the wrong decision. So yeah, she kept sleeping with him. And no, there was no way in hell Suki was admitting to Bryce that she was into him.

She’d been afraid to contact him after everything that had happened, the amount of embarrassment she’d caused for herself, but he was the one to reach out first. It surprised Suki that he even wanted anything to do with her after all that.

“How’s your hand?” He’d asked the first time since the incident, picking up her wrist and investigating the healing.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt much any more.” The wound was scarring to scab and itch.

“It’s looking good.”

“I guess I have your skills to thank.”

“How many times have I told you?” He grinned, “I’m a talented guy.”

They’d become comfortable with one another, really comfortable, and the friend part of friend with benefits could no longer be ignored.

Suki’s problem? Bryce was impossible to get a read on. She had absolutely no idea to tell if her newfound feelings were reciprocated, because he was a huge flirt to everyone. And Suki wasn’t one to take risks. So she didn’t say anything, assumed Bryce felt the same as he ever had for her.

She was right, of course, but not in the way she expected.

A few nights into the month Bryce texted:

Scalpel Jockey: *sigh* i should call her😉

Bryce’s text was accompanied by a selfie taken in front of his toilet, wide grin and thumb up. So embarrassing. He’d been right about the blackmail thing, then. He wasn’t going to let the mess I was go.

Santa Fe: you’re not even using the meme right

Scalpel Jockey: well my toilet misses your mouth so be sure to come visit it tomorrow

Santa Fe: you think you’re going to get laid after reminding me of the most embarrassing night of my life?

Over-exaggeration. But it honestly sort of felt that way.

Scalpel Jockey: of course I will😏

Santa Fe: nope

Scalpel Jockey:👀😌🤨

The next day,

Santa Fe: fine. see u soon.

—-

“Owwww somethings digging into my back!” Bryce yelped as he’d rolled away from Suki. He did some odd contortions to reach underneath himself and grab whatever was causing the grievance. “Suki, why the hell is your id badge in my bed?”

“Uh, maybe because you chucked it into the abyss a minute ago.”

He gave her a look with pursed lips. He rolled to his side facing away from Suki.

“Aww, you look so cute in this. All innocent and shit.”

“Give it back.”

“I mean it! Look at that little face,” he cooed, brushing the image with his thumb.

“It’s really not my best picture at all,” she groaned. What was it about ID card images which made them always turn out terrible? And then one is left with said image for potentially years to come.

“Suki, this says your birthday is January 18th? You didn’t say anything?” He turned to face her.

“January was so busy, I wasn’t that fussed.”

“You should’ve said. I would’ve celebrated with you.”

“Birthday sex?” She laughed.

“No, like proper birthday stuff. Whatever you like doing on them. And then maybe some birthday sex,” he added with a smirk.

“Eh. It was fine, I just got takeout.”

Bryce tutted.

“When’s your birthday, then?”

Suddenly he looked bashful and uneasy. “Um. November 27th.”

“Oh my god. You’re an idiot.”

“Nah. I’m a Sagittarius,” he winked.

“I can’t believe you were trying to make me feel guilty for not mentioning my birthday when you didn’t either.”

“We actually spent it together. That day I looked after Tommy. I had a great time.”

“Oh.” He had to stop saying things like that. It was terrible for her heart. “I can’t believe you let me set a random kid on you for your birthday.”

“I said I had a great time didn’t I?”

And god Suki’s stomach was having a party, an anxiety-ridden, nerves-on-fire, doubt-clad, smitten-as-shit party.

—-

In no time at all It was Valentine’s Day. Not that Suki was paying any attention… or that she wanted to spend it with a certain god-like surgeon. She didn’t even need to mention it, the plan was just act like this was any other hookup. February 14th was just a day – the way we ascribe time only exists because of us; and therefore it’s just a normal hookup. Using existentialism to cure crush nerves? Surprisingly works.

Santa Fe: 👃

Scalpel Jockey: sorry sukes i’m sick🤒

Well. That was not what she was expecting.

But wait. What if he was faking? What if he knew it was Valentine’s Day and was worried Suki was trying to make a gesture and had to let her down easy?

Worse, what if he was spending Valentine’s with someone else? After all, they had agreed not to be exclusive. Shit. What if Bryce liked someone else?? She didn’t even think about it before and now she felt a bit sick. He was an insanely attractive guy – chances were even without time to meet people there would be plenty at the hospital falling at his feet. There was no way he hadn’t been asked out for Valentine’s.

Those worries were quelled by another text, a picture of Bryce’s legs in his bed and the TV at the end playing something. There was a small bag full of used tissues.

Bless him, he really is sick.

Suki knew what she had to do.

Clanging about in the kitchen she muscled up some veg-packed soup, a vegetable lasagne, and a vegetable stir-fry. She also blended a fruit smoothie. Then she packed everything into Tupperware and fit a couple of portions of each into an insulated container.

Suki marched over to Bryce’s with the insulated container full of her cooked meals and determination. God, I’m a simp.

When she arrived she knocked hard so that he could hear. It was a couple of minutes before Suki heard footsteps, then they stopped (presumably for Bryce to look through the fish-eye) before Bryce creaked the door open.

“Suki. Didn’t you get my text, I’m sick I can’t-“ his voice was weak and croaky, slightly nasal – and he definitely sounded ill.

“I know. I’m not here for that. I bought you these,” she held up the insulated bag.

“What is it?”

“Food. Meals. Because you’re sick and you can’t cook. It’s just simple immune-boosting stuff,” she held out the bag for him to take.

He sniffed loudly and opened the door wider. “Come in.”

She was going to protest, but for some reason she didn’t. The plan was just to drop the food off, not to come in. But when faced with the opportunity Suki’s legs carried her subconsciously. When Bryce opened the door up for her she could see him closer. Dark bags under his eyes, greasy hair, chapped lips. He was wearing sweatpants (similar to the pair Suki had tucked away in her drawer at home from Christmas), and a cotton t shirt. He looked rough. Somehow, he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever met. And seeing him like this wasn’t off-putting at all, it just made her want to look after him. Be there for him. Why am I willing to do so much for him? Liking people is a bit like giving away your soul, isn’t it?

“You get back into bed and I’ll heat one of these up for you. They should still be mostly warm, anyway.”

“Sukes, I’ll be fine,” he said nasally. The nickname sent Suki’s organs into overdrive. Because here he was at his lowest, referring to Suki with an affectionate moniker and sounding like a melancholic song.

“I kind of owe you, remember?”

Bryce hummed a nod, too tired for much else, and slunk back into his bedroom.

Suki busied herself checking all the Tupperware’s – they were cool enough to go in the freezer by then so she put all bar one away. She heated that one for a few moments and transferred it into a bowl with cutlery, planted that on a tray, and brought it through to Bryce.

He was in bed as Suki had instructed, old reruns of Criminal Minds playing on his TV. He smiled weakly when he saw her enter with the tray of soup.

“Thank you,” he said as she placed the tray on his lap.

“No problem.”

He took a spoon of soup and gulped it down gently. Then he turned to Suki, who was now perched lightly on the edge of his bed facing him.

“I’m not good with… seeming weak,” he said, looking at Suki intensely.

“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s only me. I vomited in your toilet.”

“Exactly,” he muttered, and when Suki was about ask what he meant he carried on, “this soup is amazing.”

They sat in silence with only the sounds of the TV as Bryce worked his way through the bowl of soup. Suki was too nervous to ask what he’d meant.

“Thank you,” he said as he finished the bowl. She took the tray from him and took it back through to the kitchen, washing everything up for him. She returned to Bryce’s room, noting beads of sweat on his forehead. Going into Bryce’s en-suite, Suki found a washcloth and soaked it with some cold water before giving it a squeeze.

When she returned to Bryce’s side she gently dabbed the washcloth over his hot forehead. He looked up at her, vulnerable, exhausted – very un-Bryce. She was ever so gentle as she dabbed the cool cloth over his skin. Then Bryce reached up and held onto her wrist weakly with his hand.

“Why are you doing all this?”

“Like I said, I owe you. I was hard work that night at yours.”

He seemed to accept this answer, and gulped a little as he let go of her wrist. She pulled the cloth from his forehead for a moment.

“I’m still nervous,” he croaked.

“About?”

“You seeing me like this. It’s not exactly sexy.”

Suki’s nosiness was getting the better of her, and she knew now would be a good time to strike since there’d been an opening.

“The whole… weakness thing – that’s why you were weird about the surgery?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” he sighed, looking at Suki as though weighing up his options. He seemed to come to a decision and continued: “I already went through struggles with self doubt. My parents fucked up my whole belief in myself - it’s why I overcompensate now. It’s why I took the surgery thing so hard, I felt myself doubting my abilities. Well it was more like – less that I was actually doubting myself, because I know I’m good, and more that I was worried I would start doubting myself.”

“Yeah, that totally makes sense.” Suki was surprised he was opening up to her like this. She noticed how he mentioned his parents, but she’d let him get there when he was was ready.

“I’m sorry for not telling you at the time.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t owed the story. So what really happened? You got kicked off because of karaoke?”

“Uh, the other surgical interns kind of have it out for me.”

“What?”

“Well… everyone liked me at first. You know, I’m a likeable guy,” he flashed a grin, a ghost of his normal megawatt smile, “but I think once they saw how competent and determined I was that changed fast.”

“Jealousy,” she scoffed, “So that’s why you don’t hang out with them any more?” Suki remembered how he’d avoided them at Halloween.

“Yeah. And there was a group of them spreading shit from the start about me, dangerous rumours that could get me fired. Saying I drink on the job, I have *ahem* sexual relationships with my patients, that I’m a terrible surgeon and only made it here because of my parents money which is...”

“Your parents are well off?”

Bryce’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, uh, people found out about who my parents are too.”

“Who are they?”

“Another time,” he bit his lip as though unsure, concern as he looked into Suki’s face.

“Okay- drinking at work, sex with patients? Where the hell did those come from?”

“Well I keep a few condoms in my locker, for you, that can’t have looked great after the accusations. I don’t know shit about the drinking. I guess it just sounded bad and anyone who has had out it for me just wants me to look incompetent.”

“Those fucking dicks.”

Bryce shrugged. “It shows I’m a major threat,” he gave her a smug grin but his heart wasn’t quite in it. “So all that stuff got relayed back to Dr Emery and the karaoke the night before was apparently the last straw. She didn’t want to take the risk in case it was true and gave my surgery to Ben.”

“Ben, huh?” She asked, a sudden iciness in her tone. Like, Ben ‘you like her?’ Ben? Digging into Bryce’s private life Ben?

“Yeah, he’s another intern - you probably don’t know him.”

Maybe not. But I’m about to.

“I know some Ben’s… what’s his last name?”

“White.”

“Oh no, I don’t know him,” Suki smiled sweetly, dabbing Bryce’s head with the flannel again. She’d gotten the information she needed.

Bryce chuckled weakly. “I told you.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah so, obviously Dr Emery investigated it all after that and realised that none of it was true. But by then I’d lost it anyway. The damage was done, you know? Sorry, I know I sound a bit ‘woe is me’.”

“Not at all. You can talk to me, seriously. Friends – remember? I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” And angrier than I’m letting on.

“I suppose I owe you an apology too. For shutting you down and running away when you tried to ask me about it. I’m just- it’s- I like being That Guy, you know? The one who’s got his shit together. The one who’s the expert surgeon. Who doesn’t let things phase him. Laughs everything off. The one who’s amazing in bed,” he looked at her with a look that was, if Suki didn’t know any better, nervous. God, it’s so weird seeing him like this. But my heart is completely breaking for him.

“If I’m-“ he continued, then seemed to change his mind, “what you need from me wasn’t that, so I didn’t want to mess things up.”

“By being human? You could never,” she smiled as she bought the flannel back to his face, but it was more an excuse to stroke her finger over his cheek comfortingly. Bryce’s eyes seemed to shut involuntarily and he moved into her touch, just letting it be for a while. He was still hot, but had a bit more colour to his face, so Suki felt she had helped at least a little.

Fuck. I like you so much.

This definitely wasn’t helping her whole predicament, because each word he’d said to her, each touch, each look on his face – and she was a puddle on the floor. Overwhelmed with the ache she felt in her chest at the whole situation. That something as ridiculous as jealousy – between people who’s job it was to help others for gods sake – had put Bryce in such a spin. And it seemed to her that losing the surgery was bad for him, but the way that affected his confidence and how he felt he had to be around her – that seemed to have affected him more.

He was too proud.

And she cared for him too much to be okay with seeing him like this.

Suki must’ve been cradling Bryce’s face longer than she’d realised, because he eventually started snoring quietly. His eyebrows now flattened on his face and looking more at peace than he had since she’d arrived. She was careful when removing her hand and placing a pillow up under his head. She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushing against the cool damp area she’d been dabbing. Then she snuck into his bathroom to fill up a glass of water and collect some aspirin, leaving them on his bedside table for him before escaping his apartment.

Suki was on a mission, fuelled by affection and anger.

[sokka-with-his-hair-down]

The Carving of Whalebone and Hearts

Chapter Two

(Link to chapter one at the end)

***************

“He what?”

Zuko fiddled a little bit with his fingers. “He… knows we’re engaged.”

Sokka was pacing around their bedroom, and Zuko knew he wasn’t mad at him, because Zuko went to see his dad from time to time, and Sokka knew this. But he was frustrated. And definitely angry at Ozai.

“Baby,” Sokka said, gently grabbing Zuko’s wrists and holding them to his chest, “what did he say to you?”

Zuko sighed and pursed his lips, looking down guiltily.

“Nothing, really-”

“It’s not nothing, Zuko—!” Sokka caught himself yelling and took a moment to bring his voice down. This wasn’t the time to yell. “It’s not nothing. I know how your father is… so tell me. Please?”

Though reluctant, Zuko seemed to know that Sokka wouldn’t give up on this matter. After all, it was Ozai, the literal worst person currently alive, and he’d almost definitely said something awful to Zuko, Sokka’s fiancé, his one and only-

“Okay.”

Sokka refocused his eyes on Zuko’s. The Fire Lord looked dismayed at whatever he was about to say, but he wasn’t panicking, which was good.

Sokka nodded. “Okay.”

Before Zuko could start, Sokka led him to sit on the edge of the bed with him.

“It was just him trying to provoke me. You know that, right?” Zuko's expression was earnest and Sokka knew his words were true, but he was still so angry.

“I know. Just tell me what he said.”

Zuko shifted. “He said things about you. He insulted your heritage and your tribe, and I shouted at him for it. Because he doesn’t know what in Agni’s name he’s talking about, babe. He called you names and I lost my cool.”

Sokka almost chuckled at the use of the term “babe” thrown in there, but he refrained from it. Just this once.

“I don’t care what he said about me. What did he say about you?”

A slight shake in Zuko’s exhale made Sokka’s heart break a little. “Not much. Just his usual spiel he’s always thrown at me. I’m a disappointment, I’m dishonorable, blah blah blah.”

Sokka huffed in anger. “That pathetic sad sack of a person should never-”

“Sokka, it’s okay. It’s fine. He can’t do anything about it, anyway. I just… need to ignore him. For a while. At least until we’re married.”

Sokka felt himself soften at the prospect of that, being married, being married to Zuko, specifically, but he still couldn’t push away the fury he was experiencing within.

“Okay,” was all Sokka said.

Zuko smiled and looked down at Sokka’s neck, then reached up to stroke a thumb over the little carving he’d made that hung at the base of Sokka’s throat. (And forever would.)

“Okay.”

***************

It really wasn’t okay, but that wasn’t for Zuko to worry about. He should be relaxed, focused on his duty as Fire Lord, be excited about getting married in a couple of weeks. 

Ozai was Sokka’s to worry about right now.

Sokka suspected that, sooner or later, Zuko would find out he went to visit his father. But with how he was feeling right now, it didn’t matter.

If Sokka could firebend, he was positive that his blood wouldn’t just be boiling metaphorically. What a twisted world view Ozai had… it almost saddened Sokka.

Almost.

Sokka made his way down the long corridor leading to Ozai’s cell. Two guards stood watch. Sokka halted and stood before them, bowing his head briefly.

“Who are you, and what is your business today?”

A standard question. Sokka understood.

“I am Ambassador Sokka, here to see my fiancé’s father.”

A look of understanding crossed the guards’ faces.

“Of course. Come right through.”

Sokka offered them a polite smile, but it disappeared the moment he stepped into the steel room.

It smelled awful, to put it simply, and something about it brought back memories of his time at the Boiling Rock. Maybe it was the atmosphere, or the stench, or just his nerves, but something about it was deeply unsettling.

And, of course, someone.

In the cell was Ozai, leaning against the wall, peering dangerously at Sokka like a wild animal.

Approaching the cell, Sokka made definite eye contact and didn’t break it for a second. Ozai was powerless, of course, but he was still Ozai, and that was enough to make Sokka feel threatened.

He hadn’t seen him since the war ended. Seeing him like this felt strange.

“And who are you, exactly?”

The man’s ragged voice came suddenly and eerily.

Sokka stood tall. “We’ve met. Take a guess.”

Ozai peered at Sokka for a long moment, then scowled even deeper. “You’re that hooligan engaged to my son, aren’t you?”

Sokka was reminded of the weight of the necklace on his clavicle. “Yup.”

“I should’ve been able to tell right away,” Ozai mumbled rather loudly, “just the sight of you is enough to unsettle any sane person.”

“Woah there, buddy. A little below the belt, don’t you think?”

“You disgrace the Fire Nation, you dishonor our people. You’re a-”

“Aaand, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Sokka cut him off. “I’m here to remind you that you have no authority. And that you don’t know the first thing about honor, very clearly. And that if you ever insult my people or Zuko’s choice in partners again, you’re gonna wish Aang had ended it that day.”

“How dare you interrupt me!” Ozai shouted, his eyes glinting with something that Sokka had often seen in Azula. Unchecked, raw helplessness turned into madness or mania or some mix of the two. Animalistic, one might describe it. “Just because my idiot son lets you push him around does not mean that you can do the same to me!”

“I think I can do whatever I want,” Sokka didn’t shout, but his voice was still startlingly loud, rivaling Ozai’s volume. “Besides, Zuko actually has my respect, unlike… some people.”

“You’ve been blindsighted.”

“Actually,” Sokka snapped, “I can see everything perfectly clearly. Zuko and I are engaged, you’re in prison, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us from getting married. So again, I’m telling you, you’re on thin ice.”

Ozai made a face that resembled a tiger-snake’s snarl. “You disgust me—your family must be ashamed. I suppose you and my son deserve each other, at least in that sense.”

Sokka shook his head and stood up straight. “I’ll be sure not to save you a seat at the wedding, Ozai.”

An angry shout ripped out from Ozai’s throat, but Sokka didn’t even listen to his words. He’d let his thoughts out. He was done.

***************

“I’m sorry in advance.”

Sokka pulled his leather hair tie out as he said it, placing it on the night and and walking toward the desk, where Zuko sat with a pen and papers.

“What for?”

“For a thing. That I did.”

Zuko lowered his pen and glanced up at his fiancé for a long moment before speaking. “Sokka, is there something you’d like to share with me?”

“I may or may not have gone to see your father in prison.”

Zuko went very still.

Sokka worried for a moment that he’d just made a gargantuan mistake, and that Zuko was about to shout and fuss and panic. Instead, he said:

“Oh.”

Huh.

“Oh?”

“I… why did you do that?”

Sokka put an arm on the desk and leaned into it. “To put your father in his place. Spirits know he needed it.”

Zuko’s face was inexplicably soft. Why was he reacting like this? “That’s… good, I think. What did he say?”

“About what you’d expect.”

Zuko chuckled. Sokka joined.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Sokka lifted his head and looked Zuko in the eye. “I thought you’d be mad at me.”

“I thought I’d be mad, too.”

“So why aren’t you?”

Zuko sighed and shrugged, a tired look on his face. “You can handle yourself. I know that.” He stood up and a smile crept onto his lips. “Besides, I can’t get angry at the guy I’m marrying.”

Sokka gasped. “How dare you call me corny when you say shit like that!”

Zuko grinned, stood up, and pushed Sokka down onto the bed that was across from the desk before brushing off his clothes and standing tall. “It’s late. You should sleep.”

“You mean we should sleep.”

“I have work to do,” Zuko stated, gesturing to the papers scattered on his bedroom desk.

“Zukooooo! Pleeeease?” Sokka did his very best impression of an animal begging for attention.

“Stop that.”

Sokka didn’t stop.

With an aggravated groan but a smile still present, Zuko resigned. “Fine, I’ll go to sleep.”

“Yay!” Sokka cheered like a child would upon getting a new toy. “A momentous occasion! We should throw a banquet, and get the musicians to perform-”

“If you don’t stop right now,” Zuko threatened, “I’m not coming to bed.” (Sokka didn’t believe him. He was already slipping under the covers.)

Sokka, elation not stifled, scooted up to him and offered the biggest grin he had at the ceiling. “You’re gonna love being married to me.”

“Shut up.”

Sokka frowned a little, but when he looked over, Zuko was smiling.

Yeah. Fuck Ozai.

Sokka smiled, too.

****************

Hope you enjoyed! Links below <3

Read on Ao3

Part one on tumblr

[jawsofhakkontranscript]

Where Once We Walked

Side quest: Where Once We Walked

Characters involved: Ameridan (memory)

Inquisitor Ameridan has granted the current Inquisition access to his final memories. Retracing his steps will offer insight into the former Inquisitor's life.

(The dialogue from this quest has been transcribed by u/whiptrip on Dragon Age subreddit, so credit goes to them.)

[1] Memory at the beach.

Ameridan: I dislike being so far from home. Halamshiral needs me. The darkspawn have grown stronger. Some of my brothers would let those creatures destroy Orlais. They think Drakon no better than the Imperium. But if we do not stand with the humans against the darkspawn, we might lose everything we have gained. I will fight this Avvar-dragon for you, Drakon... and then we shall drive back the darkspawn together.

First additional comment:

Cassandra: But he died here... and the elves ignored the Second Blight as it spread across Orlais. So began the animosity that led to the destruction of the Dales.

Dorian: If the elves had helped Orlais during the Second Blight, Orlais might not have turned on them later.

Vivienne: If the elves had not ignored the Second Blight, relations with Orlais might never have soured. Orlais and the Dales might never have gone to war.

Solas: But he never returned... and the elves of the Dales ignored the Second Blight. Less than one hundred years later, that hostility turned to war and the elves lost their homeland again.

Second additional comment:

Blackwall: The Jaws of Hakkon failed to destroy the lowlands, but their dragon did lead to the end of the elves.

Iron Bull: So the ancient Hakkonite asshole didn't destroy the lowlands like they wanted, but they did get the elves.

Varric: (Grunts.) Looks like the Jaws of Hakkon indirectly destroyed the Dales.

Sera: Pride-cookies. Frigging again.

[2] Memory at the Tevinter cavern.

Ameridan: If I must go to the end of Thedas itself for Drakon, I am at least glad to have friends at my side. Telana and Haron have been arguing about Haron using the lyrium to fight demons. Some things never change. Orinna has a new alchemical trick she wants to try. Like pitch or tar, but stronger. A recipe straight from Orzammar. They argue, fuss, and mock each other mercilessly... and I would be lost without them.

Additional comments:

Solas: The more things change...

Cassandra: A dwarf getting on someone's nerves... I can't imagine.

Dorian: Yes, what's that like?

Varric: This Orinna sounds like good people.

Sera: Different and spitting, but still trying. Learn those lessons, now-people.

Vivienne: Every age has those destined for greatness, it seems.

Iron Bull: Sounds like the old Inquisitor could've used someone bigger up front.

Blackwall: Let us hope we fare better than they did.

Cole: They were happy. Then dead, but this is still here.

Memory at the Tevinter ruin.

Ameridan: We have a plan. Haron and Orinna will lead the Avvar elsewhere, so Telana and I can deal with the dragon. My spirit companion believes we can seal the dragon away, even if we cannot kill it. It is less clear whether I can do so without sealing myself in as well... but I have little choice. This beast will wreak devastation across Orlais unless we stop it now.

First additional comment:

Cassandra: No one ever knew. Their heroism was lost to history.

Dorian: He saved all of Orlais from the Avvar, and no one ever knew.

Vivienne: What extraordinary courage. A pity history forgot them.

Varric: It's a damn fine story. Shame nobody found it 'til now.

Second additional comment:

Solas: He did not do it for recognition. He did it because it was necessary.

Blackwall: Heroism shouldn't be about fame. It's about doing what's needed, no matter the cost.

Cole: It doesn't matter that no one remembers. What matters is that they helped.

Sera: People-people don't do things so you know them. Good on him.

[3] Memory at the shrine.

Ameridan: I prepare now for my final battle against this dragon of the Avvar. All is in place. I offer thanks to Ghilan'nain, Halla-Mother, and to Andraste, Maker-Bride. As you were raised up from mortal men to stand with our Creators, our Makers, so raise me up now to defend this world.

First additional comment:

Sera: Ohhhh, he's one of those. Elfy-elves don't like that these days. Or anything.

Cassandra: Inquisitor Ameridan, who helped bring the Inquisition into the Chantry, built a shrine for the Maker and the elven gods.

Vivienne: He prayed to both Andraste and the elven gods? What a quaint idea.

Blackwall: The Inquisitor honored both the Maker and the elven gods.

Iron Bull: He made a shrine for the human gods and the elven ones. You don't see that much these days.

Second additional comment:

Cole: "They're not so different, Drakon. Just another pair of boots to walk the same road." He doesn't see, wants it simple, but I can help him get there. There's room for both.

Varric: Belief is a funny thing. An elven Inquisitor must have had a careful path to walk. (If the Inquisitor is an elf) Still does, I suppose.

Dorian: You had something similar in ancient Tevinter. People kept the holidays but renamed them for the Maker. So instead of celebrating Andoralis at the start of summer, you have Summerday, and it's about the Maker.

Solas: It's a rare mind that has room to honor both beliefs equally.

[4] Memory on the Lady’s Rest island.

Ameridan: Telana, my love. I should not have asked you to come with me, though I know you would not have stayed behind. You are a Dreamer, and this dragon the Avvar have tamed carries a demon inside it. I can see how its presence hurts you. You should be at Halamshiral, reminding our people of our alliance with Drakon. Not here, risking death again with me. Still, in the old tongue, your name, Telanadas, means "nothing is inevitable." I will remember your name and hope.

First additional comment:

Solas: Ameridan was correct. The presence of such a powerful spirit would have caused a Dreamer like Telana immeasurable pain.

Dorian: A Dreamer like Telana would have been sensitive to demons. This spirit of Hakkon would have caused her a great deal of pain.

Vivienne: Dreamers are said to be sensitive to the presence of demons. I imagine this Hakkon demon caused Telana significant pain.

Cassandra: Dreamers are said to be sensitive to demons. A creature like Hakkon would have caused Telana terrible pain.

Second additional comment:

Iron Bull: More pain than watching her husband and all her fighting buddies get killed?

Varric: No more pain than watching everyone she loves die, I imagine.

Cole: Too bright, blinding, breaking, broken. "Get to safety. I will seal us both away. It's not forever. Come back with aid." But her leg was broken. She could only lie down and try to see him one last time.

Sera: It hurt the Inquisitor too. You can tell because he took so long to say "she died."

[stardustryewriting]

A Learning Process (1)

AO3 Link: here

Synopsis: Bakugou isn’t exactly in touch with all of his feelings. Kirishima usually doesn’t mind. At least not, until Bakugou starts to get weird around him. 

Part 2 3 4 5

Observational Learning

Contrary to popular belief, Bakugou didn’t mind his class all that much. He had called them ‘extras’ a lot, when school had begun, but that was mostly because he was really bad at remembering people’s names. All in all, they were a decent bunch, some of them really strong, some of them aiming really high and all of them very determined. He could appreciate that, at least.

What he couldn’t appreciate, however, was their tendency to get involved in all kinds of gossip. Or, to be more exact, how loud they tended to be, when they found a particularly interesting piece of gossip. Getting mixed up in other people’s business was their thing. But being obnoxiously loud about it and basically screaming their findings to each other in the classroom, got him involved too. And he hated being involved in anybody’s business.

People told him - quite often actually - he eluded an aura that made him unapproachable. That he always seems like he was going to snap and scream at someone. That really, people only asked him for help, when every other possible choice was eliminated prior.  Which was mostly bullshit, of course. Kirishima asked for his help all the time, without ever being scared of him. And he only really snapped when people got on his nerves for too long. Or when Deku was involved, which was the same thing really. Deku just got on his nerves a lot faster than other people. Still his ‘aura of unapproachable’ kept him from being involved in most of his classmates shenanigans.

Most, being the key word.

No matter how much he scowled, how much he glared or how annoyed the undertone in his voice got when he told them that ‘No, he did not care at all. He doesn’t give a rats ass about it.’ , none of this helped against Kirishima’s sunshine declaration of ‘They are finally, officially together’. Because, of course Kirishima doesn’t care about Bakugou’s obvious bad mood and his blatant disinterest on the topic. He never did. It was one of the main reasons why they were as good friends as they were. It was also annoying Bakugou to no end, at that moment.

“And who cares?”, he grunted, throwing his shoes up on the table and looking out of the window to drive to point home. And really, it spoke for the general mood in the class right now, that Iida didn’t even try to reprimand him for that. Usually this would be the start of an argument on being proper and respectful. An argument that both Kirishima and Deku would try to keep on the down low, by trying to mediate between the two. But right now, Iida’s attention was all taken by trying to calm the ruckus and getting everyone to sit down, before Aizawa would come in to start homeroom. For once, Bakugou could agree with Iida, even if he would never say it out loud. They were too damn noisy.

“You can’t be serious!”, Kirishima exclaimed and even without looking, Bakugou could tell that there was a big smile on his lips, “Todoroki and Midoriya danced around their feelings forever. This is a big development!”

“It’s two dudes kissing! No need to make a spectacle out of it!”, he retorted, shooting Kirishima a look which he hoped conveyed just how done he was with this. Ever since these two had shown up holding hands that morning, it was the only thing on everyone's mind. And after Todoroki had stated, in a very blunt way that only Todoroki could do, that yes they kissed, the whole class just exploded with euphoria. As if it was their personal accomplishment. Which it wasn’t, Bakugou wouldn’t even call it much of an accomplishment at all. It would have happened eventually, anyways.

“Well it was a long time coming!”, Kirishima argued back like it was his personal mission to make Bakugou see just how important this was, “You could at least be happy for your friends.”

“They’re not my friends!”, Bakugou argued instantly, before Kirishima got some other weird ideas in his head. Hell would be frozen over, before he called Deku his friend. He was just about to tell that to the dumbass next to him, when the classroom door opened, revealing Aizawa.

The man looked way too tired and done for a Tuesday morning, but today Bakugou resonated with that on a deeply personal level. He too wished that this entire week was over already, in hopes the waves of euphoria from the ‘news’ will have died down by next week. Realistically, he knew the chances were slim. He refused to think about that. Aizawa somehow managed to get all of the class to their seats and be quiet with just one look, so really Bakugou was mostly grateful for him that morning.

That gratefulness lasted exactly two minutes, before Aizawa announced another field-trip-turned-training-exercise. At least he had a month to mentally prepare himself for that.

__________________

That fact that he would need to prepare for that field more than just mentally, didn’t hit him until lunch break. And to be fair, he wasn’t really thinking about it then, either. He was actually just about to take a bite out of the Onigiri from his bento (that he had made himself and no, he wouldn’t make one for anyone else, no matter how much they begged), when Kirishima interrupted his peace yet again.

Bakugou couldn’t say he liked that tendency.

“Shit guys, does anyone have bug spray?”, he asked, mouth full with his sandwich, which honestly irked Bakugou even more than the question itself. Had no one ever taught this guy basic table manners? The answer was apparently no, no one ever bothered. Or maybe it just was a thing in their group, because both Kaminari and Sero also had their mouths full, when they exclaimed that no, there was no bug spray to have between them. Which was a stupid thing to be that aggrevated about.

“What do you need bug spray for anyway?”, Bakugou mumbled, after swallowing and he could already feel himself getting annoyed. What a stupid discussion to have over lunch, really.

“The training camp?”, Kaminari stated, his voice getting higher at the end, even though it clearly wasn’t phrased as a question, “I can’t have the mosquitos eat me up again. I swear, I’m just too damn cute.”

“Questionable”, Jirou said, wholly unimpressed by Kaminari getting mad at her and instead just opting to continue eating quietly. When she even got to their table, Bakugou had no idea.

“He is not completely wrong tho”, Kirishima said and Bakugou could see Kaminari in the background puffing out his chest and raising his chin, proudly. As if the idiot had any justification for being proud. He just stated a simple fact. “We do need bug spray for the mosquitos.” Kaminari visibly deflated at that. Bakugou, on the other hand, could feel his anger rising. Did that idiot really think Kirishima would agree that he was cute?

“Just go shopping then”, he said, just wanting to end this damn discussion. It wasn’t even useful, with the answer lying so obviously within reach. They all just liked to make a big fuss out of nothing. Exactly like that same morning.

“Can’t”, came a chorus of answers from all around their table with various excuses. Jirou had study sessions with Yaoyorozu. Kaminari booked the training hall, surprising everyone. Bakugou didn’t really care.

“I have time. Want me to get something for you guys?”, Kirishima volunteered starting what was possibly the worst verbal onslaught happening that day. Which said something, considering the ruckus these idiots had made that morning. Kirishima dealt with it very patiently tho, writing down who needed what. Which proved that Kirishima was way more organised than Bakugou would have given him credit for.

“Do you have anything planned this afternoon?”, Kirishima asked, with a strange undertone to his voice, that Bakugou couldn’t quite place. He could however think of where this question was headed. And he was quick to shut it down.

“I’m not going shopping with you!”

“Aw, c’mon man. This’ll be fun”, Kirishima argued, shooting Bakugou his best open-mouthed smile, presenting all of his teeth. If he thought that would sway Bakugou’s decision, he would need to think again. No way would Bakugou cave that easily.

“Find someone else.” And then to signal that this talk was really, completely over, Bakugou took another bite of his food. Kirishima just winked at him, unbothered by Bakugou being the way he is and instead turned around in his chair to face the table behind them. Oh no.

“Hey, Midoriya”, he shouted, which was unnecessary, because Deku was two arm lengths away at best, “where did you buy that super good bug spray again? You know the one you had for the last training camp.”

“That was Uraraka’s. She bought it at the mall. I don’t know the name of the shop, but I can show it to you. Are you free this afternoon?”, Deku answered, ever the helpful idiot that he was. Well, at least Kirishima found his shopping buddy. And Bakugou could be at peace.

“Sure am, thanks. Meet in front of the store at 3:30? I’ll bring Bakugou.”

No, he sure as hell wouldn’t. Bakugou was quick to voice that.

__________________

The question ‘How the hell did I get talked into this?’ went through Bakugou’s mind approximately a thousand times, between leaving the dorms and arriving at the shopping center. Which was impressive, because the way had only taken them fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes that Kirishima had filled with bright chatter, either blissfully oblivious to Bakugou’s mood or willingly ignoring it. He would regret this for sure. Bakugou would make him regret it. Later. For now, he was content to just listen to Kirishima chatter about anything and everything that came to his mind. It wasn’t the best use of his time, but it wasn’t the worst either. Not that he would ever admit that.

And so, while Kirishima’s chatter became a pleasant buzz in the back of his mind and Bakugou was starting to think about what he would need for their next training camp, he felt himself being more calm than he had been the entire day. Which wasn’t hard, not with the day he had, but it was still nice.

It was promptly taken from him.

Crossing the last traffic light separating them from the shopping center, where Deku was already waiting for them, he saw something. Something that made him want to turn around and go home again. To hell with Kirishima not wanting to go alone, that was no reason why he should subject himself to what will essentially be an afternoon of torture. There was no way Bakugou would just accept this like it was nothing.

Deku brought his fucking boyfriend.

“Midoriya, Todoroki”, Kirishima shouted happily, being way more enthusiastic than he had any right to. He sped up, holding up one of his arms to wave at them, which Deku promptly returned just as enthusiastic. Todoroki gave a way more timid wave and Bakugou decided he wouldn’t bother at all. No need to fake friendliness. Or that he wanted to be there.

“Kirishima, It’s good to see you”, Deku greeted, as if they hadn’t just spent hours at school together and Bakugou felt like punching something again. Why did he always feel to need to use those overly polite yet completely unnecessary phrases? Why couldn’t the idiot just be normal.

“We just saw them at school”, Todoroki pointed out and Bakugou would have nodded to agree with him, but he had his pride. No way he was going to openly agree with Deku’s boyfriend on anything. Even if it was criticizing Deku. So while Deku explained to his socially stunted boyfriend what a polite phrase was, which somehow developed into a discussion about whether or not those were time wasting ( Yes, they are, Bakugou wanted to shout, but that would be admitting to listening in on their conversations.), Bakugou started one last try to get away from all of this before it became even more of a waste of time.

“Hey Kirishima”, he addressed the boy, who looked at Deku and Todoroki with something close to a fond smile, “have fun third-wheeling on their date. I’m going home.” And with that he turned his back, hoping to get out before Kirishima could make an argument against it. A futile hope, really.

“No, come on, Bakugou”, Kirishima said in a voice that sounded an awful lot like begging, so much so, that it made Bakugou stop midstep, “I didn’t know he would bring Todoroki. Please don’t leave me alone, I don’t wanna be a third wheel.”

“And how am I supposed to help that?”

“Simple”, Kirishima, who walked around so he could face him again, smiled at him like he was the fucking sun himself, “You stay here with me, so I don’t feel left out all the time.”

“And why would I do that?”, Bakugou inquired, feeling how he got closer and closer to yelling out his frustrations. It was Kirishima’s stupid idea to go shopping with Deku, so Kirishima should be the one dealing with all of the consequences. By himself. He had no right to involve Bakugou in this.

“Because we’re friends?”, Kirishima argued, but Bakugou could tell by the way he winced at himself, that he wasn’t convinced by his own argument. He shouldn’t be. Since when did friendship mean having to subject himself to the drama that Kirishima essentially brought over himself. Old Bakugou would have laughed at him and went on his way.

But old Bakugou wasn’t really hero material. Old Bakugou also wasn’t Kirishima’s friend.

“Fine”, Bakugou grunted and Kirishima’s lit up immediately, “but you owe me.”

“Sure.” Kirishima smiled easily leading him back to where Deku and Todoroki were waiting for them, obviously finished with whatever they were doing. At least Deku had the decency to look ashamed and apologize for getting off-track (wasting their time, if you asked Bakugou). Kirishima waved the apology away and they finally got started shopping. Bakugou couldn’t shake the feeling that this was gonna be a long afternoon.

__________________

He was right, of course.

Todoroki and Deku continued to flirt incessantly. Bakugou had a burning pain in his eyes from rolling them too much and a new record in fake-gagging. Kirishima always reprimanded him for the last one. The idiots in question seemed painfully oblivious to their flirting, which made it that much more irritating. They promised they would stop everytime and then they just continued. Bakugou was about ready to scream the entire mall down.

Kirishima took it all way too lightly, in his opinion. He smiled at them gleefully and he even had the audacity to defend them, when Bakugou complained. Don’t you think it’s nice to be that in love? No, he didn’t. It’s annoying to be that in love as Kirishima put it. Could you even be in love after not even 24 hours of dating? Fat fucking chance.

“Get me some food, before I blast this entire mall down”, Bakugou grunted out, eying Kirishima dangerously. He wouldn’t actually do it, but if a threat got him some distraction, he wasn’t above using it.

“Sure thing”, Kirishima agreed, asking for preferences, before he went off. Deku accompanied him - not without making heart-eyes at Todoroki and only reluctantly letting go of his hand - and Bakugou didn’t even fight the urge to roll his eyes. Damn nerd being dramatic. Todoroki shot a knowing smile his way that only angered him more.

“What are you smirking about?”, Bakugou asked, very clearly hearing the annoyed undertone in his voice that failed to deter Todoroki. Like it always did.

“I don’t know. I just like the double date.”

“THE WHAT?”, Bakugou screamed, turning several heads towards them, none of which he cared about. What did the half-n-half-bastard just call this? He was sure he must have misheard. That, or Deku’s boyfriend had a very urgent death wish. One that Bakugou wouldn’t mind granting him, right now.

“Double date. Isn’t that what you call it, when two couples spend time with each other?” He had a death wish, Bakugou determined. There was no way he was really that dense. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Deku and Kirishima running towards them. They better be there fast, or there would be a real fight between him and that bastard.

“This is not a double date”, he gritted out, looking at Todoroki, daring him to disagree. Unfortunately, Kirishima was there faster than he expected, Deku on his heels. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

“Guys, what’s wrong, you’re making a scene”, Kirishima whisper-shouted when he arrived looking between them, as if he could get the answer from that. Instead of answering Kirishima - or focusing on his boyfriend like he had the entire goddamn afternoon - Todoroki decided to continue his chat with Bakugou.

"It feels like a double date to me", Todoroki said, ever the blunt one and Bakugou felt himself slowly losing it. Actually, not so slowly.

“What?”, Kirishima questioned, clearly caught off-guard.

“Shoto!”, Deku exclaimed at the same time, cheeks red and trying to get his boyfriend to pay attention to him again. Probably to dissolve the tension building between him and Bakugou. Bakugou for his part was ready to fight the bastard seriously.

“That’s not it at all! Bakugou and I aren’t dating”, Kirishima hurried to explain, putting himself between Bakugou and Todoroki while doing it, “We’re just friends. Nothing more to it.”

And that struck something deep within Bakugou. Something unpleasant, that he already hated, despite experiencing it for the first time. It was weird, nothing out of the ordinary happened - despite Todoroki’s absurd claim of course. Still he could feel his insides twisting, like someone plunged a knife in his gut. Instinctively he looked down to check, but saw nothing but his shirt. Weird.

He heard Deku and Kirishima try to explain the situation to Todoroki, but it was off. As if they were far away, instead of standing right in front of him. He caught a glance of Kirishima awkwardly rubbing his neck, while talking, Bakugou could see his mouth move, but he couldn’t make out the words. Like something was covering his ears. Kirishima smiled and his stomach twisted again.

He felt like he was getting sick.

“I’m out”, he said, not bothering whether or not they could hear him and then he swiftly moved. He needed air, to clear his head. And he needed to investigate their weird feeling in his stomach. That apparently correlated with Kirishima. Which could mean a lot of things.

It could mean anything, he tried to tell himself, while he made his way outside as fast as possible without his explosions accelerating him. He didn’t have the clear head to use them for that purpose right now.

It could mean anything, he told himself, when he heard Kirishima calling after him, a concerned undertone in his voice, that made Bakugou want to turn around. He wanted to snap, that he could take care of himself. He wanted to bathe in the knowledge that Kirishima cared for him.

It could mean anything, he insisted, when he finally made it outside and his feet automatically dragged him to the station. He took a deep breath, that helped exactly zero percent in the quest to clear his head and then he fiddled with his phone. He desperately needed the distraction.  

It could mean anything , he reminded himself later that night, after Kirishima had dropped off his forgotten shopping bags and asked if he felt alright. Bakugou told a half-lie about an upset stomach and Kirishima offered to make tea. Which he declined, because he could take care of himself, thank you very much.

Kirishima had brought up some tea anyways, paired with some bread because it was safer not to risk upsetting his stomach anymore. Then he told Bakugou to just knock on his wall if he needed anything else, like the considerate idiot he was. He gave him a big smile before he left, one which twisted Bakugou’s stomach again, but it was also accompanied by a squeezing feeling in his chest this time. And Bakugou wasn’t an idiot, he knew these signs, when he saw them.

It could mean you have a crush, a traitorous voice in his mind whispered. Bakugou hated himself, for how much he actually considered the possibility.